Requiem of the Goddess

by Yoshiyuki Ly

Goddess of mind, goddess of heart - closed-off without consent, She cannot flourish; unlocked to the universe in trust and control, She protects from all outside influences. Only one sits atop the throne of Shepard's subjectivity. Ashley/FemShep, Liara/FemShep. Miranda/FemShep, Aria/FemShep. Power plays, intense loves. Renegon Infiltrator FemShep. Spans the Mass Effect Trilogy.

32. Dark Star

"You Are Here" by Jhené Aiko

XXXII. Dark Star

(Shepard)

Entranced in this trance of mine, staring at the entrance to my room, I stayed sprawled out on my bed.

Entryways as beginnings—how wonderful it would've been for Miranda to come in here in my private cabin. Even though she didn't have permission. Even though I kept withholding that permission, obliquely, in other ways. Still staying quiet. Still not quite telling her how I felt; how I didn't feel. Curling up enough to fold my arms, glossing over this bareness, sleeveless of this tank of mine, feeling entirely fragile. As if all I had to do was shift my sweats the wrong way and I would feel the friction itself as excess heat against my skin. Too sensitive. Too aware. Hyper-awareness of my skin, so cold without her.

Sultry heat thrummed through my ears. Keeping my headphones on, my music on. Trying to think my way out of this had gone nowhere. Feeling through this with someone else's words, drifting through these atmospheres, I could relate to it all. Mirroring, reinforcing, validating. I needed someone else to speak on these same anxieties, of hoping that this fixation of mine wouldn't leave me heartbroken.

Blacklight of my room, bluer lights from my aquarium lighting more: I had stared out at this half-dark space for what felt like days. Days it had been since picking up Garrus, giving him this time to get settled in. Mere hours more now until we arrived at the Citadel to speak with the Council. I had vague plans to scope out the stores down in the Wards, to pick up some star charts or whatever else. Getting caught up on the current year. Trying to find my place in the galaxy again after I had seemingly lost myself now.

Miranda's mirages in my mind felt entirely real.

As if I could have reached out and held her body in my hands, finally feeling her all the way. Those teases I'd had of her in that nightdress of hers, they weren't enough. Shallow and vain and all, I latched onto Miranda's beauty as a mark of my own meaning. That shape of Miranda in this perfect imperfection, of all her hesitations and worries and anxieties and insecurities, outlining her more—no one else could have existed in such a beautiful space, marred by the same life experiences, and turned out as indelible as she had grown to be for me. More beautiful because I beheld her; more irresistible because I'd held her; more worthy of my persistent obsessions because she would never give up on us.

No matter what I did, I knew that she would always be there. And so I had lost my way. Starting over.

Never quite on even footing with her, I didn't know where I was. What to say to her. How to act.

Staying here in bed, lying here, away from her, was all I could do.

Distracted at best, unfocused at worst—I worried about how things would go during this mission. I'd already had to improvise too much the other day with Garrus, with getting him out of his hideout. I almost didn't trust myself to make the best choices now. I was too focused on being around Miranda; getting away from Miranda; protecting Miranda from anyone attacking her. Always prioritizing her.

Running my trembling hands through my hair, I had to face this possible reality:

The reality that I probably liked Miranda too much.

Already.

Because I couldn't stop thinking about going down to find her. I knew she was in her office. I knew she was busy with work right at this moment.

Knowing her more, I wanted to go down on her. I wanted to know if she liked it from me. I wanted to see if she would stop caring about the mess and let me do this for her. I needed Miranda to be a fucking mess over me. I needed to be on top of her still, learning her body and her sounds and what she liked, what turned her on, and how to own her. Anything to please her. Anything to be that deep inside of her.

Anything to help me get my power back. Some of it. Any of it. A single shred.

I needed her to go weak for me. I needed to hear her, exactly like that. I needed to give her whatever she needed to be that, to live that, to breathe that—for me and only me.

Even in this burst of imagination, craving this sex with her, I had to rein myself in.

Drugged as I was by this thought of her gripping my back like that, I had to stop inhaling this imagery.

I had to, even with these echoes of my name by her voice, begging me to stay in this moving image. Beseeching me to indulge in this sweeping feeling in my stomach, warmed and heated and aroused in this endless vision. Begging more for me to remember my promises; to be everything for her, honorably.

Trying to focus on something else, anything else, I pulled up the dossiers for the team. After we were done on the Citadel, it would be time to go recruit someone else. Tali had let me know that she would be ready in a couple of more days. So, until then, I figured we could pick up one more person. For some reason, this Subject Zero person kept standing out to me. For both good reasons and bad ones. They were a powerful biotic vanguard—and a violent criminal with a past I didn't agree with at all. These old ties to white supremacist cults back on Earth had me wary. But I knew that plenty of people only joined cults like these for a sense of belonging. Not necessarily to align themselves with those extreme ideals.

Jack sounded the same.

Needing somewhere to belong after such a rough childhood. Lonely and lost. Never wanting to admit it.

So, in that sense, I sympathized.

I decided we would go pick up Jack tomorrow from the prison ship, Purgatory.

I just hoped that I wouldn't regret this choice.

Besides, the only other person who sounded useful was the krogan scientist, Okeer, to help Mordin out. But, like with Omega, the situation had changed after all this time. He was apparently dead now. We had waited too long to go get him from his lab on Korlus. So we'd have to move on without him.

Right when I thought I might've had a handle on things, my omni-tool went off with an email alert.

This message threw me back into my feelings all over again:

From: Miranda – Recordings.

Shepard,

I've attached one of my scenes with Jacob. One of many. This one is rather tame. Safe. It's a fine start.

Separate from that, I needed to write to you anyway. You've been rather distant—again—since we left Omega behind. I wish you would tell me if I made a mistake the other night. Was I too forward? It's difficult to tell. Whether I'm direct or I give you your space, it seems that your mood won't change. I understand that we're supposed to be taking our time together. That is the standard I set for us. Yet I can't help but feel that you're keeping a lot from me. I wish you would tell me how you actually feel.

I suppose I'll just have to follow your lead on this. If we're to be detached for the time being, then that is what we will be. Waxing poetic about our feelings doesn't seem to be our strong suit. Nonetheless, I wanted to give you something to hold onto. I had to try, at least. So please hear me out.

You are always on my mind, Shepard. No matter what I'm doing. No matter how I'm feeling, you are there. You're here with me. These days, I often think about having you in my arms. Holding your head close to my chest. Nurturing you this way. Letting you know that everything will be all right. As much as I might say the words to you, for you to hear them, I need to give you this act. I need to know that you're doing well. I need to make certain that you're safe and sound. It's such a visceral feeling for me. We've hinted around this before. Perhaps we'll keep hinting about this until we finally act on it. Vaguely.

I brought you back. You are in my image, in a way. I want to take care of you, just as you take care of me. I long for you to know me completely, as only you can, in my image. You can assume why I'm like this. There are certain things I simply couldn't escape from my upbringing. Yet it's brought us together.

Regardless of whosoever's gaze I was originally intended for, I only wish to be beheld by you. However you regard me, I hope that I'm up to your standards. I want to be perfect enough for you. I want to be reliable enough for you. I want to come alive under your gaze, every day, as I did when we first met.

I need to be locked to you. Someday. Completely. Whenever you're ready to take that next step.

-Miranda

.

To: Miranda – Re: Recordings.

Miranda,

Thanks for the scene. I'll watch it after I send this reply to you.

You're right that I'm not telling you everything. You know enough about me by now. I have to figure this out on my own. I'm not the best at talking about my feelings. I appreciate you telling me about all of this.

I don't want you to stop. I need to know what you need. It's turning into a craving of mine.

I guess, maybe, I might be kind of shy around you. I'm really distancing myself from the possibility. I know I don't look any different. I always have this seriousness about me. I don't want you to worry about my moods, though. If you need me for anything, I would still drop whatever I'm doing to tend to you. Because I get it. I can assume why you're like this. You already know why I want these longings from you. Your expectations. As perfect as you are, you did remake me in your image. You have certain privileges.

You're giving me what I never had before. Exactly what I've always needed. I'll forever be grateful for that. I'm only going through some growing pains right now, that's all. You're not doing anything wrong. I just need some time. As soon as I'm ready, I'll ask you to be mine. That won't ever change. I promise you.

I can make this promise because of how this feels. You already showed me who you are when you earned my loyalty. When you saved me. I believed you the first time. You know me; you believe me. We're good.

-Shepard

.

Even though Miranda didn't respond to me, she still read my message right away—I saw that identifier under the body of my email. Showing the exact hour, the exact minute, the exact second when she'd laid eyes on my words. Mere seconds after I'd sent it out. Immediately, slowed only by the natural quickness her hand needed to interact with her omni-tool in time. I hoped she would get my reference toward the end of my message.

Another saying I liked to follow, following my first impressions of others, and how I wanted to know who they were at their worst:

When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.

No filters whatsoever—Miranda had done nothing but show me exactly the woman she was, constantly.

Even in her eagerness to read my email in an instant, I found her character brimming for me, always.

Miranda's quiet, reserved obsessions for me kept this trance of mine going.

Stronger and harder: I opened the attachment she sent, with this feeling she gave me.

As I pressed play on this recording—dated in January of last year—I saw the very beginnings of the feeling she had given to Jacob, too.

Low near the floor of this clean, sterile bedroom on Lazarus Station, the view of this camera angle was off-center. Artistic, in a way. Purposeful. Capturing Jacob near the upper-right of the screen as he knelt upon the floor. Muscled, shirtless, the luster of his skin shined in the bright white of this room. Bulging already from beneath the taut tightness of his black boxer briefs. Blindfolded, I could only see the anxious smirk by his thick lips, his face apparently handsome enough from what was visible. Military-shortness of his cropped hair, he kept his head down. Wrists tied behind his back, presumably. Waiting.

Waiting with his back to the door, red lock aglow.

Waiting for his Mistress to show up.

When Miranda did enter the room, her heeled boots announced her arrival more so than the shifting sounds of the door. But not from her Domme outfit. She only had on her Cerberus uniform, the black and midnight blue of her leather the same as the one she wore today. Probably to avoid detection out in the halls with the rest of their Cerberus staff, coworkers, and colleagues. Jacob smirked more as he heard her arrival; listened to her go off to the side of the room, out of the camera's view. Breathing harder, he seemed to pick up on the sounds of Miranda using the holo-closet to change into her desired outfit.

Then, the lights dimmed.

Graying to dark, the room mellowed out just enough. Just enough to still let me see Jacob's form. Just enough to make the shine of Miranda's stretch leather stand out more once she re-entered the frame.

Taller, thinner stiletto heels lengthened her legs, her stride, thigh-highs rising supreme.

Teases of her thighs thickened at the top of those highs, fit and formed, fair skin illuminated in the dark.

Taut and tight, this corset clutched her torso and boosted her breasts, propped and primed in her allure. The shine of that hard black material shone on in subtlety, never outshining her face. The absolute craft of her beauty, scowling in seriousness. The metal of her eyes, blued and imbued in steel and composure. The dark of her hair sleek and slick, down past her bare shoulders, shaped in slender strength and ability.

Crossing over to Jacob, Miranda moved in such patience and calculation. Staring him down from behind.

Blindfolded, facing forward and all, Jacob's skin pebbled all the more as he sensed her iced observations.

"How quaint," sneered Miranda. "I haven't said a word yet, and here you are. Shivering with anticipation. Your imagination must be getting the better of you." She grabbed the curve of his skull, manicured nails latching onto the crop of his haircut. Jacob groaned deep in his throat, rolling with the motion of Miranda moving his head. "Then again, I'd rather you have an active imagination. I'd hate to think that you're just that simple. Able to get aroused by anything. You're still getting ahead of yourself."

Jacob chuckled. "I could be, yeah."

"I don't remember saying you could speak."

"I don't remember you saying I couldn't—"

Miranda pushed his head forward, hard enough to make him lean forward. "You're going to regret this, Jacob. I recommend stopping while you're ahead." When Jacob only chuckled again, Miranda made a point: making him bend more, she lodged her heel around his neck, forcing him down to the floor. "I don't appreciate this. At all. You know I don't, and you continue to do it anyway." Putting more pressure, she made Jacob grunt out in a pleasured pain, his tied hands flexing just over his back. "I didn't come here to have you waste my time with your childish games. If all you wanted were punishments, you could have told me ahead of time." Measured and precise, she specified: "You may speak now. To respond."

Struggling beneath the might of her boot, Jacob ground out, "You know me, Ma'am… Always pushing my luck with you. Needing to see what I can get away with… Besides, it's not a punishment if I want it!"

"That's what you think."

Whipping her hand out off to the side, Miranda's arm glowed a biotic blue and white, dark energy coalescing around her clawed fingers.

Lashing out from her palm, a biotic whip appeared, thin, flexible, and elongated; shaped as a traditional leather tail whip. Black leather replaced with biotic blue, she nonetheless wielded the whip all the same.

Tail whipping out over the floor in warning, that biotic cracking sound shook Jacob in place. Still suffering beneath Miranda's boot, beneath Miranda's powerful stance, he could only listen. Listening as she wrapped the whip around her wrist a few times. More tightness, more control. Miranda then brought the whip down again, cracking it near Jacob's head. Cracking his own control, more. Making him let out the tightest of hisses from the suddenness, the shock of it all. Yet the skin over his back continued to pebble more, the shivering from his anticipation growing and growing—as much as he did, in between, bent over and bulging more beneath his boxer briefs, harder and thicker by the second.

"Go on, Jacob," incited Miranda, sneering more. "Tell me why I should bother. Why I should give you what you want. What you so desperately crave. So much so that you would attempt to manipulate me into hurting you like this."

Blowing out his breaths, over and over, as if physically working out, Jacob responded, "Because we both need this. You know we do… You've been way too caught up in your stress these days. Over the project. Over the commander, your feelings for her… You can't deny it—"

Miranda cracked the whip over his ass, hard, exploding his words into screams.

"Don't you dare make this about me. That isn't what I asked for."

She gave Jacob a moment to compose himself. To stop screaming. To breathe, even with her boot on his neck. When it looked like he was okay again, she emphasized:

"Answer me properly this time."

This time, Jacob complied. "Ma'am, you're beautiful. You're irresistible. I want to know that I can take it from you. That I'm enough of a man to deal with whatever you dish out. I need…to be strong enough."

Miranda didn't seem to believe him. "And if that's true, you could have been more upfront. Before."

Back to the games: "C'mon, and miss out on this chance? I gotta make you work for it first."

"As I suspected. What a foolish little boy you are. You never know when to stop."

For the rest of the recording, Miranda spent most of the time denying Jacob what he wanted. Not once did she give in and whip him again and again as he craved. She made him beg for it. She took her boot off from his neck and made him worship her instead: kissing that black, down at the tip and up to the heights of her highs. Not letting him go any further than that to reach her skin. Never untying his wrists to let him touch her, either. Constantly breaking him into submission, deeper and deeper as the hour passed.

Never giving in—Miranda never took her stress out on Jacob, either. Her restraint acted as a release in and of itself. Holding herself back when she could have unleashed her anger on him, going overboard in that cold, cold sadism of hers: this appeared to calm her enough. Restoring enough of her vitality. That exchange validated Jacob's feeling of security with her. He submitted to her more, obedience growing.

By the time the recording was over—their aftercare edited out—I didn't know where I was anymore.

This burning afterimage of Miranda's body in that outfit, it remained in my mind. Heating over my eyes. Repeating itself whenever I blinked, as hot as the sun against my eyelids. Her attitude throughout that entire scene heated everything more, searing right down between me. I kept on twisting what I just saw.

I wanted Miranda in that same corset, those same boots, twisting her dynamic.

I wanted Miranda underneath me in that same coldness, twisting it around.

I wanted to fuck her exactly like that, twisting her body beneath me.

I needed her to wrap those boots around my waist while I fucking railed her, finally claiming her myself.

Thoughtless and crass, I changed into the strap-on I wanted. Contradicting this filth in my mind, I escaped into the shower. Rinsing off what I couldn't clean away, pointless, this point stayed firm in my hand the whole time I spent thinking about Miranda, getting off to her. Jacking off in this rush, this heated friction, misting more in the heat of this water beating down on me. Beating off to the way I needed to ram into her, fucking her out of control. Ripping her control away. Tearing her composure down. Clawing her coldness into a hot, whimpering helplessness instead, screaming out my name.

As much as I forced myself to stay against the wall of this shower stall, I imagined Miranda here.

Right in front of me.

Holding her thighs up and open, gripping her for leverage; thrusting in and out, nonstop as she wanted.

Grunting out over her skin, her neck—doubling this echo of Miranda's voice in my head, how I kept imagining her shouting for more, begging for it. Panting for it. Pushing me for it, engorged of me.

Somehow, my hand was enough of an illusion: pretending to be her, pulling me in. Sucking me in. Absorbing me in wetness and in heat. Never letting me go. All wrapped up in my palm, my fingers as Miranda herself, inside of her, completely. Twisting my dominance into full-on subservience, pleasing.

These mirages of her sounds were enough to get me off—how many times, I didn't know. I'd lost track.

Even once I stepped out, straightening my hair again, I wanted to go back in. I wanted to keep going. I wanted Miranda to want me, just like that, and to act on it. But it was too soon. Way too soon for any of that. Way too early for me to tear her walls down, goading that submissiveness out of her. So weak.

Absent-minded, I put on my Alliance fatigues without remembering to take this strap off.

Leaving it on as a reminder of my needs. My needs that I couldn't do anything else about. Not yet.

By the time I returned to my room, I still didn't know what to do with myself.

An unexpected email nearly threw me off more:

From: Aria – Omega.

Shepard,

I'm almost disappointed. You didn't come pay me another visit like you said you would. Then again, maybe I should be grateful. You found what you needed. I heard about Archangel. Unfortunately, I wouldn't have had much information for you. Beyond telling you to follow the mercs, that is. Sounds like they were too cowardly to take me out themselves. I'm dealing with this new problem. More effectively.

You could say I'm surprised. Surprised that I'm disappointed. Almost disappointed. You found me during an awkward, vulnerable time. Not only did you succeed in helping me, you also revealed the flaws in my own system. Clearly, I'm not the best at asking anyone for help. Least of all when I need it most. I could tell that you didn't appreciate this about me. As noble as you are, you've given me a lot to think about.

Why am I telling you any of this? Well, I figured you deserved to know. It's not every day that I run into someone like you. That scowl of yours has been on my mind. For the record, I don't care whose hand you were holding while you came to see me. You could say I've discovered a new hobby with your photos and vids over the extranet. I can see how you used to make a living like this. You were an excellent model.

You and I will talk again. Differently, next time. I'm sure of it.

I owe you.

-Aria

I caught the real meaning behind all of this. Behind her words. Her choices. Her intent in flirting with me.

As fine as Aria was—powerful, sexy, authoritative—I knew better than to reciprocate. I replied to her without acknowledging anything.

Miranda would lose her mind if she ever found out what Aria was up to.

EDI spoke to me, "Shepard, Garrus would like to speak with you. He is currently at the main battery."

"Thanks, EDI," I replied.

By now, I knew that Garrus was aware of the whole story, just as Mordin and Zaeed knew by now, too—everything from the past, from after I had died, and the truth of what had happened in San Diego back then. Along with how I'd dealt with the problem more recently. I had done my best to not speak with Garrus prematurely, before he was ready. The two of us had never been all that close before. But these days, seeing how much he leaned on my leadership, I couldn't help regretting how distant we were. So I headed downstairs to the crew deck, to the main battery with these feelings of mine, needing to be the best leader that I could—better—for Garrus' sake.

---

When I arrived to Garrus' new work station at the Normandy's main guns, I found him at the console right by the door. Working on these calibrations had kept him focused over the past few days. He'd discarded that Blue Suns disguise in favor of another copy of his same blue and black armor I'd found him in before. Seemingly back to normal, Garrus had been pretty productive in here based on the reports he'd sent over to me. Even more productive than he had been back on the SR-1. Throwing himself into his work. More so after learning the truth behind everything that had gone down before.

Now that I was here, he slowed down. He stopped working.

Placing his hands along the edges of the console, Garrus leaned his weight there. Head bowed. Thinking.

"Garrus," I said, standing just off to the side. "EDI let me know you wanted to talk. You doing okay?"

His voice rang hollow: "Honestly? I'm not so sure about that. Either way, I'm glad you stopped by."

Glancing at the Normandy's equipment, I tried making small talk, "How are you liking the new guns?"

"They definitely pack a punch," he noted. "These torpedoes can shred just about anything. Though I wouldn't mind upgrading to the Thanix cannons when we get a chance. They're a turian design. Based on Sovereign's beams. We'd essentially have a mini-Reaper mounted to the Normandy's main hull."

"Sure, we can do that. Send me a copy of the schematics and I'll put in an order for the upgrade."

"Will do. Thanks, Commander."

Silence again.

Contemplation, again.

I looked around the room once again. Finding a bench on the nearby wall. I could have sat down there.

Instead, I leaned against the wall nearest to the door. The long length of the Normandy's targeting systems funneled out in front of me, in front of Garrus, extending on and on. Not so roomy, we only had so many places to stand. So many places to avoid one another. Briefly avoiding the truth, until now:

"Garrus, if there's anything you wanted to tell me—now's the time. I'm here. What's on your mind?"

"Well, I think I'm ready to face the obvious," he chanced. "I was out there on Omega for two reasons. One, I was running away from my anger. Hatred. How I couldn't stand Ashley for what she had done. Even though I had no proof at the time. None of us did. A lot of it felt like blind speculation. It frustrated me. I wanted to confront her. I wanted to make her pay. For betraying Liara. For betraying you. For betraying us all and having the nerve to lie about it. The others kept telling me not to. I ended up drifting away from them. Resenting them for holding me back, even though their reasons made perfect sense. I wasn't thinking about sense anymore. That led me to heading my own squad of vigilantes. For a time."

"Were you trying to make up for that injustice? With Ash."

"Yeah," said Garrus, as if the idea had never occurred to him before. "Yeah…I guess I was."

"What gave you the idea in the first place? How'd you get started with everything?"

"I'd heard stories about how bad the crime was out on Omega. How it seemed like no one really cared about the citizens. Not even Aria. After I dropped my training to become a Spectre, I took the first flight out to the Terminus Systems and landed on the space station. I didn't have a plan at first. I was just…wandering around. Observing the markets, usually. Listening to the constant news stories about you, about your legacy. Wishing I could see you one more time. That's when I ran into another turian. She recognized me from your team. We hit it off and started talking about crime and reform. That's when she pitched the idea about starting a group of our own to get back at Omega's lawless mercs."

A female turian?

I wondered for a moment if this was that same woman who'd stalked us on Omega the other day.

That would've been…an interesting coincidence.

I asked instead, "What was her name?"

"Nyreen," recalled Garrus. "Nyreen Kandros… She runs the Talons, a local merc gang protecting Omega from the worst types of domestic crimes. A lot of them run undercover as part of the station's militia police. Mostly to keep an eye on whatever Aria's up to. But the Talons were bottlenecked, in a way. They couldn't act openly against the other merc groups, or Aria herself, or they risked getting wiped out. So, Nyreen figured we could have our own little anonymous offshoot. Handle the bigger jobs that way…"

I noticed how Garrus' tone had changed, in discussing Nyreen. How he seemed almost—timid.

I wondered, "Were you and Nyreen ever involved together?"

Mandibles twitching, Garrus replied, "…I wanted to be with her. Never told her that. I think she knew."

"Why? What was the problem?"

"I wouldn't say there was a problem," he emphasized. "She and I got along great. We were both idealists. Always wanting to help out the little people. The ones who got left behind. We were also bad turians, bucking our rule-following society to bend the rules, and bring justice to Omega. And she was a beauty… Plus, she was—older than me. More experienced. I never let that get in the way of things. Didn't take long for me to realize I was attracted to her. I asked her out on a date. We went for drinks."

"Did she know it was a date? Like that?"

"I don't know… We were both lonely at the time. Ended up drunk. We kissed. Made out. I liked it a lot."

This sounded oddly promising anyway. "And then…?"

"And then…she sobered up. Apologized. Confessed that that was the first time she had kissed a man."

"Oh."

Garrus sighed. "I tried to be a good sport about it. She could tell I was heartbroken. We…cooled off after that. Went our separate ways. It was too awkward for us to stick around. Didn't help that she also confessed about her last girlfriend. Her longest relationship. The one she's still hung-up on to this day."

"Don't tell me… Was it Aria?"

"Sure was," he confirmed.

"Small world."

"You can say that again. It wouldn't have bothered me that much if Nyreen hadn't pushed me into making that team of ours. The more I looked back on it, the more it seemed like she had an agenda. To get back at Aria somehow. Maybe not as a scorned lover. Clash of governing ideals. She hated that Aria wasn't doing enough for the citizens. I'm not clear on what her endgame was. There was something."

I'd have to keep this in mind the next time I spoke with Aria, then.

Garrus continued on, "Anyway, after all that, I partnered up with someone else instead, to help me lead the group. One of my team leaders, Sidonis, fit the bill at the time. Another turian, again. There were about a dozen of us. We did good work, sabotaging illegal merc operations and taking out the most corrupt gang leads. For Nyreen's sake, I never stepped on Aria's toes. Not directly. Didn't want to fall into that trap. But Sidonis wanted us to take Aria out, make a name for ourselves. Gain notoriety. Safe to say we disagreed. I should have known he'd betray me by then. I was too distracted to see the signs…"

Repeating old trauma. Betrayals. No wonder. "What happened after that?"

"Sidonis led me away from our hideout. Then, while I was gone, he ordered a hit on everyone left behind. This happened right as the plague started getting worse. I had no choice but to go into hiding, to keep from getting sick. The whole time I was underground, I stewed over the betrayal. Hating Sidonis for stabbing me in the back the way he did. He started spreading rumors that I planned on assassinating Aria for her terrible handling of the plague. That's when I found the Blood Pack, Blue Suns, and Eclipse knocking down my door. I was isolated."

"In that case, did you plan on killing her anyway? Did I interrupt you?"

"I considered it. I really did. But I couldn't go through with it. Figured I'd die out there holding my ground. While I sniped from my vantage point, I kept wondering about everything that had led me up to that moment. Everything that had gone wrong. I imagined you scolding me over it. Then you found me."

Maybe the Illusive Man was right about me being some kind of archangel.

First for Miranda, then Garrus. Probably for other people, too.

I remembered, "You said you were out there on Omega for two reasons. What was the second one?"

Garrus finally looked at me in-earnest and said, "I was trying to find you, Commander. Doing what I thought might make you proud. Living in your footsteps. Needing you to actually…notice me, I guess."

All those times I'd sensed Garrus longing for my friendship before—at last, they caught up with me now.

I could have questioned his judgment. Grilling him on why he thought I'd approve of that old life of his.

In his apprehension, Garrus wanted to look away from me. Fearing that scolding he'd imagined earlier.

As lost as he still was, I felt him continuing to lean on me. On my leadership. Needing me in this way.

So all I said was, "Garrus, I'm proud of you. I notice you. I see you. I appreciate having you here again."

Shutting his eyes, looking away: Garrus breathed harder, once, as he took in my words. Truly, as if he'd needed to hear them for years. For longer than he'd known me, even. Whoever else he'd needed to hear them from—his hardline father, his previous superiors—they didn't seem to matter anymore. Only I did. Only my opinion got through to him. I wasn't sure why I was so important to him. This important.

Important enough to make him emotional like this.

Garrus composed himself anyway, muttering, "Thanks, Shepard. It means a lot to hear that from you."

"You bet," I replied. "Think you'll be okay from here on out? Or do you still need to talk?"

"I'll get my head back on soon enough. I just need some time, that's all. Helps that we're almost at the Citadel. I could do with a little R&R. After we talk to the Council, that is. Get your Spectre status reinstated. It'll be good to see Anderson again."

"Agreed. I'm sure we can all find something to do afterward. Hang out somewhere. I'll keep an eye out."

Right as I was about to leave, I stopped.

Garrus seemed to want to say something else. One last thing. Needing one final reassurance.

Facing the door, I asked him, "What is it?"

Pained, Garrus wanted to know, "Is it all right—that I still miss Liara? I mean, after everything…"

"Yes, it is. I miss her, too."

"Okay… That helps to know. I can stop feeling guilty about it. I'll see you a little later on, then."

"Sure thing. See you in a bit, Garrus."

Once I left the main battery, heading back to the mess hall, I figured I'd make the rounds. Speak to everyone on the team so far. Just to see how they were doing. Something I'd never done back on the SR-1—aside from the night right before Ilos, to check on the team individually. I supposed there was no harm in doing that more often. Making it a regular thing instead of only doing it once every blue moon.

This was something I needed to get better at, anyway. Miranda had stressed how important it was.

I made my way to the med bay first, passing through to get to the AI Core, where Legion was. Dr. Chakwas wasn't in here at her desk. She must have been busy reading in her room.

Within the dark red of the core, blues cooling from EDI's hardware all around, I found Legion in its usual spot at the end of the room. Standing there, completely still. Busy with something beyond my reach, beyond my perception, yet still appearing to wait in motionlessness. It found me with a distinct awareness, as if coming back to life.

"Shepard-Commander," greeted Legion.

"Hey, Legion," I said. "Just checking up on you before we get to the Citadel. How's everything going?"

A bit confused, it responded, "Everything…is going well. We thank you for your inquiry."

I recalled, "You know, ever since we picked up Mordin, I've noticed something going on with you."

Legion tilted its head to one side. "Please specify."

"I'm sensing some tension between you and Miranda. Or am I wrong about that?"

"Tension. Disparities. Operator Lawson disagrees with our methods of questioning and discovery."

I translated, "Are you trying to get to know her better, and it's not landing well on her end?"

"Correct. Operator Lawson accused this platform of 'overanalyzing' her. We do not comprehend."

I smiled over the irony of it all. "Legion, I don't think interrogating Miranda about her thoughts and feelings is the best approach. Yeah, she does it to other people all the time. Especially me. It's not something that sits well with her. If you really want to know her, you should try being her friend first."

Legion admitted, "Proposing a friendship seems…unreliable. She is likely to decline our attempts."

"Well, why do you want to be her friend in the first place? Is it because the two of you are colleagues?"

"Operator Lawson's intellect and capabilities greatly exceed that of other organics. We understand her creation was intended to emulate an unattainable perfection. Geth also seek out perfection in our own ways. Our consensus with one another is a collective attempt to achieve this concept. The heretics have chosen one path to reach this goal by aligning themselves with the Old Machines. We have chosen another."

That made sense. "Is that the only reason?"

Gentle, Legion said, "You care for her."

"Yeah…I do."

"That reasoning is sufficient."

Even so, Legion still seemed out of its depth on this issue.

Before an awkward moment could pass, EDI's blue form appeared nearby. She asked, "May I interject?"

"Sure, EDI," I allowed. "What are you thinking?"

EDI shared, "I have also speculated on a possible friendship with Miranda. However, I concluded that this would be impossible. Her isolationist habits have made such possibilities quite inaccessible. I am uncertain if my observations have helped or hindered my chances at getting to know her better. On a more personal level, that is. It appears she merely views me as the Normandy's AI. Not as a person."

Legion expressed, "We have made similar observations. It is…demoralizing. Discouraging."

I wondered if Miranda had any idea she'd attracted this kind of synthetic attention from EDI and Legion.

I had to know, "Well, EDI, have you tried being Miranda's friend at all?"

"I have not," replied EDI, sounding kind of sad. "I considered sending her an anonymous gift. Perhaps a digital collection of classical music, or other unearthed copies of your fashion magazines. However, I determined that this would be ineffective. Aside from your forays during Valentine's Day, Miranda has accumulated too many negative experiences with gift-giving. I felt this would have been insensitive."

The two of them seemed pretty stumped on this issue.

So I suggested, "You know, maybe you're both overthinking this. Give Miranda some time. She'll come around. You don't necessarily have to do anything. If you bother her too much, you'll just turn her off."

Legion pondered, "If we do not take action, how will Operator Lawson know of our intentions?"

"Be there for her. That's all. She'll notice after a while. Then the three of you can have a real talk."

EDI approved, "That is a sound observation, Shepard. Thank you."

"Yes," agreed Legion. "We will change our priorities accordingly. We appreciate your assistance."

"All right. I'll leave you to it. I'll catch up with you both later."

"Understood," replied EDI.

"Acknowledged," said Legion.

As I left the AI Core, I got the distinct sense that Legion and EDI continued communicating with each other. Electronically, I guessed. It was probably more convenient for them to speak that way. I thought it was sweet that they cared so much. Considering other organics were way too intimidated by Miranda to be her friend, this was a nice change of pace. I could only hope that things worked out well for all of them.

Taking a chance, I headed over to Miranda's office next. Even though I knew she was busy with work, doing her best to finish everything before we reached the Citadel. I at least wanted to say hello to her.

At least that much, considering how crazy she'd made me earlier.

Not that I regretted it or anything…

Far from it.

My heart started hammering nonetheless as I entered her door, unlocked as it was. Unlocked as I was.

Stunning as ever in her poised unconcern, Miranda sat behind her desk, typing at her terminal. Busy working, as I'd suspected. Busy keeping her cool. But not so busy that she would send me right back off as soon as I'd arrived. She maintained her professionalism; her distance that she had mentioned in her email. Having judged that this was best. Having decided that this was the best way to stay controlled.

Even so, those roses I'd given her continued to populate the room in this scent, heady in their allure.

Constant reminders of contradictions.

"Commander," noted Miranda, glancing at me. Even-toned. Indifferent. "What can I do for you?"

I kept the eagerness out of my voice. Eager to see her, hear her. "Do you have a minute, Miranda?"

"There's a lot of work to do, Shepard. I'm nearly caught up with this. But it's nothing too involved…"

Miranda trailed off once she noticed something.

Something about me.

Something I had forgotten to take off.

Something I couldn't control around her. Not for long. Not at all.

Unable to hide this growing size between me, beneath my casual Alliance blues, I said nothing. No point in hiding this. It was way too late for that. Even as my face heated, I placed my wrists behind my back. Setting my shoulders back. Back straight. Setting my jaw; staying this way. Heating more from her stare.

Brow raised in a quiet intrigue, Miranda barely contained her smirk. Fully amused. Fully regaled by me.

Such a dark curiosity tinted her tone this time: "It seems you forgot to remove something, Commander… Did the thought slip your mind before you left your room?"

Unable to answer her, I kept on staring ahead.

Military-still.

Harder and harder—showing more and more, despite myself.

Her attention on me. Her accent. Her acute breaths between her words, her sentences, soft and easy:

Everything about her had me going in place.

Intrigued even more, Miranda said, "I must say, this is quite the surprise. But a welcome one, to be sure. You've given me an idea, actually. I'd like to make a request. If that's all right."

Stone-faced, serious, remembering my control—I asked her, "What request did you have in mind?"

"I'd like you to wear this for me more often. Not during missions, of course, since it would be…distracting. But I do enjoy this preview into your desires. There's no ambiguity whatsoever. No room for interpretation. It's right there, plain for me to see. Almost like a little shortcut. Well…" She laughed softly. "Certainly not little. Not in the slightest. I approve. You know I do."

Maintaining my stiffness—in every sense of the words—I responded, "All right. If that's what you want."

Miranda glanced down between me again. She adjusted her hands. She licked her lips.

Her gaze, her hands, her lips: she already knew where I needed them. Right this second.

"Yes," she breathed out. "That is what I want. I'm glad to hear you acknowledge it. Just like this."

Miranda could have made this a lot worse for me.

She could have stood up and come over here. Touched me. Teased me. Pulling me under her control.

Even in her distant sort of teasing as she sat there, I couldn't help noticing the loveliness of her charm.

Her restraint spoke volumes, after all.

So I made her an offer, "Listen, why don't we continue this on the Citadel? I already told Garrus we could all go somewhere together after our meeting with the Council. I'd like to take you out again."

Smiling now, eyes sparkling in devotion—Miranda replied, "And I'd like that. Very much so. Thank you."

Somewhere far beneath the surface, I kept on hoping that she really was who she said she was. Who she had shown me so far over this month and more we had known each other. So much time flying by quickly, already.

Because if she wasn't…

Hardened as ever, I said, "I'll let you work."

Oblivious to my hoping, Miranda gave me her mischief, so sexy in subtlety: "Of course, Commander."

---

Heading up the elevator to the command deck, I used the brief time to cool off; to get back to my baseline. I knew I was tripping over Miranda. In a lot of ways. Too many ways. This new start with her still had me off-balance. All of this almost seemed too good to be true. Living in her vision like this, needing her like this; hoping like this, that she wouldn't destroy me someday, somehow. She could have.

That coldness she had given to Jacob jumped to the forefront of my mind, sobering me.

Sobering, scaring.

Scarring me with the possibility that Miranda might choose to be like that with me at any time.

As sensitive as I could be, I worried too much about her hurting me—freezing me with that frost of hers.

I pushed down the last of these vulnerabilities as I reached the armory, finding Zaeed here. He stood in front of the terminal near one of the windows, hard at work. Once he spotted my approach, he stopped what he was doing, turning to face me properly.

"What's this?" teased Zaeed, arms folded. "Here to pay me a visit, are you?"

"Just checking in," I told him. "Seeing how you're doing. You settling in all right?"

"Sure am. Got myself a nice room down in the crew's quarters. Being a junior officer on a military frigate's not so bad. Wouldn't have minded staying in that starboard cargo space instead. Looked pretty roomy in there. Could've had more space to set out all my guns. Oh well."

Not wanting the reminder, I stated, "It's sealed off for good, Zaeed. I take it you know why by now."

Zaeed looked proud of himself—and of me. "You're goddamn right I do. It was a hell of a ride, reading that report Lawson sent over. Especially since she was involved with the whole thing. Her coming clean to your old team and making that switch right under the girl's nose? And you killed your girlfriend for being a terrible fucking liar. Executed her in that room. Brutal. No mercy. Now you and Lawson got your thing going together instead. I think it's brilliant!"

"Almost sounds like you respect Miranda more because of it. I noticed you stopped arguing with her."

"What, me and Lawson? Sure, I respect her all right. She's as stuck-up as they come, but I get her angle. Trying not to let her get under my skin. I'm old enough to be her goddamned father. Besides, if it wasn't obvious, I'm not used to being on a team. Not ones like this where the leader expects us all to get along. If I ever worked with anyone, it was a free-for-all. They did their thing and I did mine. Real cooperation wasn't important."

"Even when you were part of the Blue Suns? I know you helped found the group twenty years ago."

"Yeah, that's right," sneered Zaeed. "Me and Vido Santiago. The two of us made a great team. He handled the books; I handled the men. We disagreed once he wanted to start bringing batarians in to fill our ranks. Cheap labor, he said. Told him I didn't want any fucking terrorists with us. He wasn't having any of it. Made sure I got this nice little injury with my eye after that. Haven't seen him since then."

"I take it you're out for revenge with this contract of yours."

"Revenge… You could say that. Sounds almost too simple when you put it that way."

In his sudden reticence, I caught the real reasons behind Zaeed's aversions to teams. To getting along with other people. To understanding other beings. And yet here he was, serving with me anyway.

Whether he realized it or not, Zaeed had placed his trust in me—to not repeat the past.

Repeating the past, for both of us:

Having another soldier working in my armory. Putting their trust in me like this.

Zaeed noticed. "Looks like we've both got some demons in our past. Ain't that right, Shepard?"

"You've clearly done your research on me," I noticed, too. "Beyond reading that report, I mean."

"'Course I have. You're the one who put humanity on the map. I gotta say, your background's pretty unique. Stands out from almost everyone I've ever met. Tough kid from Earth's streets grows up to be the first human Spectre, powerful enough to take down a goddamn Reaper. Now you're leading this band of ours to take out the Collectors. Not something you hear about every day, that's for sure."

"If I'm honest, Zaeed, I'm surprised you respect me already. Regardless of what I've accomplished."

"Why, because I'm practically an old man compared to you?"

"No, not that," I insisted. "It's your personality. And mine. I figured we'd end up clashing."

"I get it," he agreed. "You're not one to put up with anyone's bullshit. Neither am I. Thing is, you're not full of shit, and I'm not, either. You've got plenty of clout for me to remember. I'll stay in line. And if I don't, you'll find some kinda creative way to make me pay. That's what I expect from you."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Damn right. I wouldn't worry too much. We've got the whole mission ahead of us. Plenty of time to get to know each other better."

"Then I'll let you get back to your duties," I allowed. "We should reach the Citadel in about twenty minutes or so. I hope you're up for a little shore leave."

Zaeed nodded in approval. "Yeah, sounds good. I'll finish up what I've got now. I'll see you then."

"See you soon, Zaeed."

Leaving him to his work in the armory, I went across the hall, past the comm room to the well-lit lab.

I found Mordin working behind the center table. Facing me, his back to the window. He had a few of those bug-like seeker swarm samples buzzing around in a container, testing a few different neutralization techniques that way. Multitasking, he continued working as he addressed me:

"There you are, Shepard," said Mordin, a bit subdued. "Have been meaning to speak with you. Forgot to ask EDI to let you know. Caught up between ongoing sample testing and pervasive thoughts."

"You, Garrus, and Zaeed all read about what happened."

Eyes closed, Mordin inhaled deeply. Contemplative. "Hmm, yes," he confirmed. "Do not think badly of you. Difficult decision. Some intrigue, as well, in joining team after moving fiasco. Drama, emotion, passion. Understand why galaxy learned different story—public story. Would have ruined Williams legacy once more. Meaningful display of compassion for family of deceased. Have been withdrawn, thinking about your actions. Her actions. Miranda as well. Hers most thought-provoking. Clear she has strong feelings for you. Stronger, now, in face of decisions she made for your sake. Great respect."

I wondered, "Have you told Miranda that?"

Mordin looked appalled. "What? No! Scandalous suggestion, Shepard. Would never dream of discussing such personal matters with her. Have not known her for very long, but Miranda is adamant about maintaining professional hierarchy aboard Normandy. Strict protocol. She is executive officer. Second-in-command. Cannot broach subject with her as science officer, junior officer! Too many unknowns…"

"And yet you're telling me about all of this," I pointed out. "Besides, I thought the two of you got along just fine when you first met. You had plenty to talk about while you waited for me to handle that cure."

"Contradictory nature, indeed," he accepted, with some consternation. "Suppose your open policy of discussion is—comforting. Feel closer to you as captain, commander. Beginnings of mutual friendship, perhaps. Vague beginnings. Aware of your tendencies to keep to yourself. No judgment. Time will tell."

"I think that's fair. We can keep talking. I don't mind."

Mordin smiled, relieved. "Good to see continuation of open policy. Thank you, Shepard."

"Well, what else have you been thinking about? With everything from the report you read over."

"Inevitable links to own work. Dubious morality as doctor, geneticist. Began second-guessing motives, justifications. Old wounds reopening. Was unsure how to process change. Unexpected."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Is there something specific from your work in the past?"

Mordin kept his emotions out: "Did some work with krogan genophage. Salarian Special Tasks Group. Noticed krogan adapting to previous strand. Needed to modify, adjust for changing variables. Genophage modification project. Prevented krogan population from exploding once more. Status quo."

"Status quo sounds about right. And this sounds like a heavy topic. No wonder it's been on your mind."

"Yes, not pleasant conversation to have… Not as first conversation in lab. Can discuss in detail later on."

Joker made an announcement over the intercom: "Hey folks, gonna be pulling into the Citadel in the next ten minutes! You gotta love seeing all that taxpayer money at work. I know I sure do."

Mordin seemed puzzled. "Still not used to Joker's—jokes. Social translation not always obvious."

"He'll end up growing on you," I reassured. "I wouldn't worry about it."

"Of course! Will take your word for it. For now, should get back to work. Need to finish current task before arrival at Citadel. Won't take long. Appreciate talk."

"All right, Mordin. It was good talking with you, too. I'll see you soon."

Since we only had a few minutes left, I went back to my room anyway…to get changed. Changing out of this toy—saving Miranda's amusement with it for later. In private. Alone. Changing into my stealth suit, and gearing up with my weapons. Not that I expected to run into trouble on the Citadel. Considering what happened the last time I was there two years ago, I only wanted to be prepared. Just in case.

By the time I made my way to the bridge, I found Garrus over at the helm with Joker already.

I approached them—and the glowing violet hues from the nebula surrounding the Citadel, those brights shining through the open windows, beckoning me closer.

Joker spoke to Garrus, "Well hey there, stranger! Haven't seen you since you first joined up. Glad you're not, uh, dead or anything. I was about to start worrying, you know. Like, really worrying. It was bad."

Garrus struggled to keep it light: "No, I haven't died yet… It's going take a lot more to get rid of me."

"Yeah, after you fended off all those mercs from your old hideout on Omega? Sounds about right…"

Their brief conversation could have ended on an awkward note, right there—if Joker and Garrus hadn't noticed me in that moment. They both looked to me as I stood nearby. I acknowledged them, one at a time, making sure they were all right. Making sure they noticed that I noticed them. In their own ways, Garrus and Joker brightened a bit, finding that I cared. They didn't need to say anything to me directly. They just watched as I went back to staring out the windows, watching as we approached the Citadel: that partially-open station of a star aglow from within the nebula. Perfect galactic ingenuity, in beauty.

Joker and Garrus continued talking, much easier than before. Seeming contented to have me around.

As they talked, I heard the approaching sounds from Miranda, Zaeed, Legion, and Mordin crossing the bridge, the four of them speaking together. Or rather, Zaeed making brash conversation while Miranda rebuffed him, with Mordin and Legion unsure of how to respond. Zaeed appeared unbothered by Miranda's attitude now, openly laughing at how cagey she was. And Miranda scoffed right back at him, chastising his attempts to make light of this. But it didn't seem to be a big deal. Different personalities.

As I gazed out at this perfection, I almost felt overwhelmed by the one standing next to me now. Miranda had reached my side. Ignoring everyone else. Staring at the sights with me, right by me. The way these lights lit up her skin, her eyes—she had me mesmerized. I held her hand with this feeling; smiled down at her with this sentiment, growing. Expanding well past the actual space in my chest.

More beautiful than all, Miranda returned my smile. Securing my hand over hers. Not caring that the others stared at us, or not minding either way. I had her attention, and she had mine, adding to this new-nostalgia. Uplifting. Hopeful. Changing the landscape of what I believed was possible, emotionally.

---

Within the picturesque sanctuary of the Citadel Tower, I met with the Council at their coveted spot, just before the towering window with the outside view of the nebula. Anderson and the turian, asari, and salarian councilors all stood at their panels, facing me, with my team behind me as we held this meeting. Antechambers fanning outward from this space, stairs rising to this occasion, I could never forget this eternal autumn's ambiance. Cherry trees undisturbed from the last time I had been here—gardens tended to and political life running uninterrupted, everything looked perfectly fine compared to before.

Anderson led the meeting for us: "It's good to have you back, Commander. While you were gone, we made sure to continue our efforts in preparing for the Reapers' arrival. This was the least we could do to honor your legacy. We would have then given the intel to relevant militaries, with Lieutenant Williams likely leading the rest of your team in your absence… But that clearly won't be the case anymore. Now that you're with us again, we should be able to proceed with our original plans."

The salarian councilor detailed, "The galaxy's best scientists are still hard at work with their research into Sovereign's remains. In particular, the Salarian Special Tasks Group has discovered a possible breakthrough with the origins behind these mysterious backdoors with capital-class Reaper ships. They have forwarded their findings to the Systems Alliance, whose scientists should have more information for us within the coming months."

The turian councilor continued, "In addition, the Turian Hierarchy has worked hand-in-hand with the Alliance on a possible plan of attack against the Reapers. We believe there may be a way for you to launch coordinated strikes on certain ships, in order to weaken the rest of the units within any given system. It is akin to taking one major player down to effectively lower the morale of any remaining troops, leaving them more vulnerable to defeat by the rest of our galaxy's fleets. Alliance Command will have more details to share with you as we approach the war."

Grim, the asari councilor shared, "Asari High Command has recently shared troubling, but pertinent news for me to pass onto you and your team, Commander. Due to the nature of this classified information, I'm unable to share our methods of discovery. However, our matriarchs appear to have an accurate estimation of when the Reapers will arrive. Relatively speaking, we do not have much time."

Already…? "Lay it on me, Councilor. How much time do we have?"

She regretted having to tell me, "By the end of the solar year."

Gloomy, Anderson added, "We're putting their estimates around November or December. Give or take."

Behind me, the team fell into a more weighted silence.

That wasn't much time at all.

We had maybe eight or nine months before the Reapers would be at our doorstep. Before I'd have to step up again and repeat the impossible that I'd achieved before. Under such different circumstances.

"Understood," I accepted. "And there's nothing we can do to stop them? Or delay them."

The salarian councilor said, "Unfortunately not. Rest assured, we have vastly improved our planetary defense systems on each of the Council homeworlds: Earth, Sur'Kesh, Palaven, and Thessia. Though we have been unable to secure the same preparations for other worlds of non-Council species. Doing so would likely invite panic, suspicion. We have thus far maintained to the public that war is not imminent. This leaves the hanar and drell homeworld Kahje, the volus homeworld Irune, the batarian homeworld Khar'shan, the elcor homeworld Dekuuna, and the krogan homeworld Tuchanka open to the worst… Sadly, the nomadic quarians among the Migrant Fleet will have to make due with what they have."

I told them, "You know the public's going to hate this as soon as they find out. Playing favorites like that. I get why you're not saying anything. But you have to see what kind of outrage is coming your way."

The asari councilor insisted, "We do understand. To that end, we have dedicated large swaths of the Wards as refugee safe zones. Had we not been prepared, we would have only had space for refugees within the Citadel docks. As soon as the Reapers arrive in any Milky Way systems, we will arrange for free and safe transport for any and all refugees to seek shelter here on the station. The public and the media will call us out for our apparent clairvoyance. Yet this is the only compromise we can allow."

Anderson added, "That's not all we've done. Thanks to the Illusive Man and Miranda Lawson, the Alliance and Cerberus have formed a wartime pact to prepare for and fight against the Reapers. Cerberus has already begun devoting resources toward improving Alliance soldiers and ships in an ethical manner. We know that Cerberus discovered these improvements using unethical methods. But the Alliance has been careful to vet all proposed technology: we've adapted everything in a manner compliant with galactic law. No genetically-enhanced supersoldiers—just improvements across the board for our soldiers for the war. Since no one else knows about the Reapers at the moment, they're being implemented as part of a new standard procedure in the military. Strictly need-to-know."

The turian councilor explained, "Commander, we can't understate the importance of our negotiations with Cerberus in your absence. Not only did they bring the truth to us—uncensored—they also brought you back. In exchange for their information, resources, and their efforts in restoring you as you were before, we extended an offer of clemency. In particular, we have given your teammate Miranda Lawson full galactic immunity for any and all crimes committed while working with Cerberus. She has already given her word that she will aid you in the fight against the Collectors and the Reapers, remaining by your side. So from now on, Miss Lawson may go wherever she pleases with impunity. This includes any and all Alliance bases, stations, and headquarters. Given her trustworthiness, she has earned this."

Caught off-guard from this surprise, I turned to look at Miranda not too far behind me. She had her head bowed, taking in this moment. Even though she wouldn't look at me, I didn't mind. I found her humility.

Anderson concluded everything: "Commander, the Council thanks you for bringing about these new alliances and discoveries. You're already uniting the galaxy again, just as you did years ago. To that end, we've officially reinstated your Spectre status. May you continue to be a friend to the Council, our protector. And may you continue to be a protector to all in the galaxy who deserve you. We wish you and your team luck in your mission against the Collectors. This meeting of the Council is adjourned."

After everyone dispersed, Anderson invited me over to speak with him off to the side. The rest of my team went off across the way, sitting down on the benches by the cherry trees. Being alone with Anderson like this, even with the team in full-view, I could see how the stress of the past two years had gotten to him, changed him. Less light in his eyes, but he was still fundamentally the same. Just…older.

He spoke to me all the same, "You're a sight for sore eyes, Shepard. I'm glad we were able to get through the meeting. The other councilors were anxious to go over those details with you. And I needed to see you for myself. In-person."

I shook his hand. "It's good to see you again, Anderson. Even with everything going on."

"The feeling's mutual," replied Anderson, giving a weak smile. "I've wanted to share with you—I had a sense that something wasn't right. After we lost you. There was a lot that didn't quite add up. When we lost your remains, I kept coming back to that incident over the years. Wondering if I had it right about what happened. Then came along the Illusive Man. I'm still in a bit of shock over it. Hackett is, too."

"You're positive about working with Cerberus on this level? I wasn't expecting all of that."

"Cerberus isn't exactly on the up-and-up. I won't deny that. If it were just the Illusive Man, I wouldn't have taken his claims all that seriously. It's Miss Lawson I had a difficult time saying no to. I don't get the impression that she's fully aligned with Cerberus' shady reputation. If you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do know," I shared. "What are your thoughts on this?"

"Honestly, your teammate seems almost too principled and pure for the organization as a whole. I can expect her to perhaps take measures that are outside the norm; ones that may look bad on the surface. But it would always be for the best reasons. The right reasons. She isn't afraid to take those steps."

I breathed a little easier, relieved that he felt the same.

Anderson had a knowing glint in his eye as he said, "Shepard—if you want my advice… From what I gathered during those negotiations, and just now during the meeting, I can see that Miss Lawson is your equal. Seems impossible. That's the honest feeling I get from her. She wants what's best for you. She wants to make sure you succeed. And she's reliable. I have no issues trusting her as long as you do."

"I trust her… It's Cerberus that I'm not fully on-board with. I don't think I ever will be."

He caught how and why I was so torn about this. "I understand. Just know, if Cerberus is trying to pull a fast one on us, I don't think your teammate is involved. You would know if she had a hand in this. For now, I'd say to keep following your instincts. Do whatever you feel is best. If we need to drop the Illusive Man for whatever reason, I'm confident that we'd at least have Lawson on our side regardless. I can't see her stabbing you in the back. Not after all she's done. So perhaps it's something to think about."

"It helps to hear that, Sir. I'll think it over."

Anderson smiled, supportive. "Good. That's all I can ask for."

As we spent a while longer talking, I felt Miranda looking over at us. Over at me. Needing to keep me in her sights; needing to know that I was all right. Even as she swatted away Zaeed's attempts to pull her attention back to the group, Miranda maintained her vigil over me. All with that same purity, that same honesty of spirit that found me the first time I'd laid eyes on her. With this reminder, I felt grounded once again, stronger than before—the earth reinforced itself beneath my feet, fortifying me entirely.

---

After leaving the Citadel Tower with the team, we headed down to the Zakera Wards together. I browsed the stores for those star charts I wanted, plus some other upgrades, and had everything I purchased sent to the Normandy. The whole time, I listened to people discuss everyday topics. The new Blasto movie starring some hanar, the latest biotic amps available, customers haggling over prices…and no one talking about any sort of war, or invasion, contrary to the meeting I'd just had with the Council earlier.

Holding Miranda's hand as I took all of this in, I found the real reasons why the Council didn't want to alarm anyone. I guessed if I were a regular person, I wouldn't want to freak out about some war I had no control over, looming overhead.

Knowing that everything would change toward the end of the year, I started considering more:

I only had so much time to make the most of things with Miranda, with what we had.

Yeah, she would still be with me after we dealt with the Collectors, and once the Reapers arrived in force. She would still be on the team. She would still be in my life, no matter what happened with us romantically. But this ticking clock suddenly broadened my horizons; shifted my perspective, yet again.

Easygoing, Garrus got my attention as we passed by another shop. "Hey, Shepard. These look cool."

On display along the counters were a bunch of different model ships, each from the Migrant Fleet. Not all fifty-thousand of them—but I recognized quite a few of these, like the Rayya and the Neema. The ships were apparently on sale for dirt cheap. Everyone else walked right by them; even the shop owner seemed disinterested in the collection, as if just waiting for a chance to get rid of it. I frowned over the reality that no one really valued the quarians, their ships, or their nomadic way of life, essentially existing as vagrant hustlers out among the stars. It was like everyone blamed them, or their ancestors, really, for getting chased away from their homeworld Rannoch by the geth after the Morning War. Even the Council barely gave a damn that the Flotilla would basically be on their own once the Reapers reached the Milky Way.

I went ahead and bought the collection for myself, sending everything back to my room on the ship.

Miranda smiled over my choice.

As we left the store, I was a little distracted by her smile. Holding her hand like this, I was about to lean over to her. To say something. To break this unofficial silence between us. I was so focused on her that I didn't notice the short-haired human woman in a blue dress nearby, suddenly deciding to accost me:

This stranger had a camera hovering behind her—she turned the light on, blaring in my direction.

This reporter, or whoever, got in my space and said, loudly, "Commander Shepard? Commander Shepard! Khalisah bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News. The people want to hear your story, Shepard! I unfortunately wasn't able to interview you two years ago, when you first became a Spectre. I'd like to make up for that now. Do you have a minute?"

Glaring at her, I fought back, "What the hell is this? No, I don't have a minute! Get out of my way!"

"I just want to give your story its due," she claimed, glancing down at Miranda's hand in mine. "Oh, my. Now this is what I was looking for! Sources say you were dead for two years. But now you've returned—with an incredibly beautiful woman on your arm. And she works for Cerberus?! Well, isn't this interesting?" This Khalisah made the fatal mistake of getting in Miranda's face this time, probing her—"Are you and the commander newly involved after Lieutenant Williams was killed-in-action? Jumping into a new love affair so quickly doesn't seem like something Shepard would do—"

I physically placed myself between Miranda and this messy reporter, warning—"You need to stop."

Khalisah kept on going, "But Commander, the people deserve answers! Reports claim that you didn't attend your previous partner's funeral. Isn't it strange that you weren't present? Were you truly dead all along? Or did you fake your death to run off and elope with this stunning femme fatale instead? Clearly, if you did, no one would blame you. This new mistress of yours has certain…assets that are more wonderful than any normal woman. I'm willing to bet the two of you have quite the active sex life."

Offended beyond reason, Miranda scoffed behind me. Humiliated. Objectified. Obviously hating this.

Iron-tight, I balled my fist.

Instead of acting out, I made myself clear: "Don't you dare assume anything about my private life. I won't let you disrespect the woman I'm with. Now get out of my face before I make you regret it."

Testing me for her fucking clicks and ratings, Khalisah smirked. "You'll make me regret it, will you? You sound pretty protective of her. Then again, you should be. Is that a threat, Commander—?"

"I've had enough of your disingenuous assertions."

I pulled out my sidearm and shot her stupid camera.

Khalisah screamed in shock and dismay over losing her precious footage; the surrounding civilians screamed louder in a sudden panic from the gunfire. They all scattered off in every direction, running away.

I held Miranda's hand again, ordering the team, "Come on. Let's get out of here."

Zaeed chuckled. "Well, that takes care of that."

"Indeed," noted Mordin. "Effective methods. Shame about loss of equipment. Looked valuable."

Garrus shook his head. "She's a real piece of work. Not sure how you kept so calm. I would've lost it."

Miranda snarled, "She's lucky that's all Shepard did. I could've made things worse."

Legion inquired, "Would physical violence have been a suitable reaction?"

"More than suitable, Legion. It's what she deserved. Either way, she won't be able to spread her trashy gossip over the extranet. I suppose that's enough for now."

We escaped into the Dark Star lounge nearby, just to get away from the area, from the incident.

The downtempo music thudding through from the entrance had caught my attention, anyway. I ended up following those low sounds, finding the inside of the lounge with a chill, laid-back vibe going. No one in here appeared to have noticed what went on with that reporter minutes ago. Static red lights at the center bar, and shifting blues, golds, and greens everywhere else down here on the first floor; the tables spread out along the perimeter, and the dance floor off in a corner all looked decent enough.

Everyone else decided this was a good place to hang out. Garrus, Mordin, Zaeed, and Legion went off to the bar together. Miranda went on ahead to join them, knowing I would follow her afterward. She seemed like she had a lot on her mind. Probably the same as me—on top of the recent rage and embarrassment from dealing with that Khalisah character. Even as she sat down along one of the barstools with the others, I watched those thoughts pass through her eyes. Naturally worrying about every little thing. Maybe wishing we'd had more time to just live first—without this war getting in the way of things.

Curling into herself, Miranda could have disappeared like that.

If only these lights had stopped shining in color, illuminating everything about her. Brightening in tints.

As much as my body had absorbed this pulsing music, I still wanted her. I still wanted to be in her. I didn't want her to spend another minute believing that we needed to maintain some kind of distance.

I went over to Miranda at the bar.

Right as I did, Zaeed noticed her. Spotting how much weighed on her mind.

Having already ordered himself a beer, he tried to lighten the mood: "Don't tell me you're still pissed about that whole thing earlier. Forget about it, will you? C'mon, have a drink!"

Miranda questioned him, "Is that always how you resolve your problems? By drinking?"

Zaeed laughed. "No, but it does a hell of a lot to loosen me up. Might do the same for you."

"I'll drink when I feel like it. Not when you tell me to."

"All right, all right. There's no telling Miss Lawson what to do. You do what you want, when you want."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Your sarcasm aside, I have to say that you are correct. For once."

"Know what?" considered Zaeed. "I think that tabloid reporter was onto something. You've been around, haven't you?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

"You seem experienced, is what I'm trying to say! You ever run a business selling that sass of yours? I bet you'd make a killing. Then again, you already have, haven't you? Pretty sure I've got a buddy or two who might know you from somewhere…"

Curious all of a sudden, Mordin and Garrus glanced over at them. Trying to find out more.

Legion gave no reaction, continuing to stand nearby. Observing everyone as usual.

"Don't be absurd," snapped Miranda. Obviously saving face now. "I haven't the faintest idea as to what you're talking about. And frankly, I don't care to know. You can keep your observations to yourself."

"Uh-huh," allowed Zaeed, disbelieving. "If you say so…"

Reaching Miranda's side, I murmured in her ear, "Hey."

She let out an irritated sigh. "He never knows when to shut the hell up."

Watching as Zaeed chatted with the others, I mentioned, "I think he likes you."

Miranda didn't mean to laugh at that. "Shepard, please," she dismissed. "The man is old enough to be my father. I'm sure he knows this by now. Besides, you're only trying to rile me up." She calmed down a bit once I ordered her a drink: a glass of that Pinot Noir red wine we'd shared on our first date. The turian bartender was quick to prepare the glass, setting it over the bar in front of her. "Thank you… I was in the mood for this. Sadly, they don't make the cocktail that I prefer having. Perfection. It's rather rare."

"You would like that one," I figured. "Is it because of the strawberry flavor?"

Thoughtful, elegant, Miranda sipped her wine. "Yes, I do enjoy it," she supplied. "Overall, it's the mix of the ingredients. How everything comes together in such a natural way. It's…a perfect fit, I suppose."

Leaning over the bar, I made sure to stay near her. Perfectly close to her ear. Perfectly proximal to this heat radiating off from her, hotter as I breathed over her skin. Perfectly trained on the way she couldn't look at me, staring down at the red of her wine. Reddening more as Legion, Zaeed, Mordin, and Garrus kept on glancing over here, clearly noticing what went on with us. And over her neck, her edges, the softest, shortest, gentlest of her strands of hair stood up on-end, lifting more from my breaths here.

If Miranda only knew what I really wanted with her: she wouldn't have been able to sit still at all.

"Perfect—just like you are."

Self-conscious with the rest of the team staring at us, all she could say was, "Shepard…"

I glossed my hand along her lower back, appreciating this curve about her. "Something on your mind?"

Miranda murmured, "You're doing this on purpose. Aren't you?"

"I'm not," I claimed, touching her face instead. "I enjoy looking at you. Admiring you. Is that so wrong?"

When she wouldn't say anything, I settled my hand just under her jaw. Lifting her head enough. Exactly enough to keep Miranda from seeming too insecure with everyone's eyes on us, even as they continued talking among themselves. Not only the team—quite a few other people spread out within the lounge had their attention focused on us. Recognizing me. Learning who Miranda was to me by proxy. Seeing how and why I kept this steam in my stare, unable to look away from her. Not that I minded. She did.

So I said to her, "Miranda. Do you want to go sit down somewhere with me?"

Relaxing some more, she asked in a soft voice, "Just the two of us?"

"Just the two of us. Alone."

Miranda glanced around at the tables everywhere. "They're all full. This place is packed today."

I pointed upstairs.

And she pointed out to me, "I don't think anyone's allowed up there, you know. It's always deserted."

I offered her my hand anyway.

Pleased by me, Miranda settled her hand along my palm. Letting me help her stand up from the barstool. Letting me guide her toward the back of the lounge, past the dance floor. Over to where this door was, leading elsewhere. A few C-Sec officers stood watch by the stairs that presumably led to the second floor. Realizing who I was, they went ahead and let Miranda and me pass by. No questions asked. Even though, as Miranda had said, no one should have been allowed up here. The C-Sec officers were kind enough to make this exception for us.

Miranda seemed satisfied, too.

Up the stairs, we found another door. I guided Miranda through first, the two of us returning to the chill, pulsing beats of the lounge's music—this time, raised up above the main floor. Past the handrails, we had a fine view of everyone downstairs at the bar, sitting at the tables, or dancing. Mordin, Legion, Garrus, and Zaeed didn't seem to notice us up here, still busy talking together as they were. I figured they wouldn't think to look up here. So the two of us could have our privacy, relatively speaking.

Off in the corner, we found a leather couch to sit on. Secluded, comfortable.

I waited for Miranda to take her seat first, before sitting right by her. She let me keep my arm around her shoulder. Holding her close like this. Basking in this feeling that she enjoyed being here with me; that she liked relaxing against me; that she needed me like this. She didn't have to say a word. I knew.

I had to ask, "You've been here before? Sounds like you have."

"Mmm, yes," replied Miranda. "I've stopped by a few times. Flux and Chora's Den are still under reconstruction. They're clearly not a priority. This place is rather soothing. I like it."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said.

"Well, since we're alone now…is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

"Playing twenty questions, are we?"

"Not necessarily, no," she mused. "I can assume what your reaction was to the recording I sent you. We don't need to discuss it. I was only wondering if there was something else you wanted to know."

Yeah, our brief talk in her office earlier had spelled out those assumptions for her.

On a related tangent, I touched the collar over her neck, asking, "What is this for?"

Light and easy, Miranda simply said, "What do you think it's for?" as if to suggest the obvious.

I knew she could feel my heart quickening beneath her ear. "Did you…decide that you belong to me?"

"A long time ago, yes."

"Why?"

"Because you're my favorite person, Commander."

…

Miranda laughed softly. Picking up on the rest of my reactions.

She knew to use my rank like that on purpose.

Her choice of words, though…I was pretty sure I knew what she meant. Exactly what she meant.

As she said that, refined accent and all, the power of her presence drew me in more. This crystalline shine of her eyes in this lighting, catching the golds the most, effervescent. The irresistible contrast of that light color of her gaze with the dark of her hair, making the steel of her blues stand out even more. I felt myself getting caught up in the honor of this opportunity, knowing that Miranda wanted me like this—in all of her superiority and sophistication. Her striking confidence. Knowing how she wanted, needed me.

Self-possessed in her comfort here in my hold, she gazed down at everyone below us. Enjoying me most.

Even the soft, contented sigh she let out had me needing her more.

No one could compare to her.

No one was even in the same stratosphere as she was, as far as I knew.

Miranda noticed. "Surely you have more questions to ask. Don't you?"

"…what do you find most attractive about me?"

"Aside from your stunning looks, and your smooth charm? Hmm. I'd say it's your penchant for planning, for getting what you want at any cost. Your ruthlessness. Your principles. The two of these combined—they define you in a powerful, exceptional way. Your presence before me is as an empire, and I want nothing more than to rule over you myself. With your permission, of course… Your dominance and respect define the essence of how unique you are. How very—Machiavellian you are. I find it inspiring."

Completely high on her now, I had to know, "Then why didn't you come after me before? If you knew about me all this time… Why'd you skip the chance to contact me first? Why did you wait for me?"

"You wouldn't have approved of Cerberus. I wouldn't have been able to keep that a secret from you."

I guessed not…

"Well, even now, you usually wait for me to make the first move. It's like you enjoy that. How come?"

Shifting up, Miranda gave me such an intense, alluring look.

The depth in her stare reached through to me—all the way through me, deep down into me.

This slightly higher pitch of her voice, gossamer-smooth and effeminate, entranced me all over again: "Because I want you to desire me. I want to feel desired by you. Sometimes, if I make the first move, then it isn't the same. I don't want to rush you, either. So if you want me, you'll act like it. It's as simple as that. Things aren't usually simple with me. But…let's just say you're quite an exception to many of my rules."

I understood.

Miranda's entire sex life before me had been…clinical. With clients, strangers. Transactional. No emotions involved. No thrill of the chase, or courtships. No relationships.

She didn't have to keep treating sex like an operation or a project anymore. Not with me.

As high as I was with her still staring at me like this, I tried to doubt. I tried to resist Miranda getting in my head like this. I was supposed to be in charge here. But I really liked what she had given me so far. And she knew everything about me. Here she was, speaking from a place of total and complete understanding. Maybe even beyond what I could see about myself in this exact moment.

Her own Machiavellianism in needing me: it was dark, sexy, attractive, compelling…

Seeing this look in my eyes, Miranda smiled a little. Laughing softly again—intrigued, pleased.

"You already know I'm eager for more," she whispered, stroking my face. "I've told you what I want. What I'm ready for. Whenever you're prepared to take that next step, you'll let me know. Until then…"

Straddling me all the way, Miranda mounted me, clutching her thighs around me. Automatic, I gripped her waist, her back, pulling her into me, more. Red wine still lingering over her lips, her taste, her eagerness reminded me of our first kiss all over again. Throwing me back into that loop, of spinning in place in this twisting hurricane, emotions blowing hot and hotter like this. Humid, damp, tropical—Miranda's breaths in my mouth shaped themselves as her smirk, goading me. Encouraging me with these gentle sounds of hers; submitting to me as much as she ordered me without words to pull her closer, to grope her harder, to own her and desire her and claim her with more conviction, stronger.

And I did. I did, and I did, getting lost in her, losing my way in her, obsessed with her: in this shape of her body rounded and tightened beneath the leather of her uniform. Clear, superior perfection as a woman.

Miranda cascaded into me, feeling desired.

Smiling in satisfaction now, she smoothed her lips across from mine, over my face, and right to my ear.

Breathing here, Miranda's whispers husked through me, sultry as that tropical heat: "Tell me, Shepard… I want to know the truth. If your exes were still around—both of them, either one of them—would you have been able to resist me? If I came after you. If I made myself clear. If I made it plain that I wouldn't be the other woman."

Psychedelic lights from Dark Star marveling behind her as blues and golds, I muttered my drugged response, "No… I wouldn't have been able to resist you. Not at all. No one can compare to you. You're such a queen."

Ego fully stroked by me, she let out such a sound of satisfaction. Rewarding my need to please her.

"Would you have decided to leave them for me?"

"Yes…"

Closer, Miranda sent me on another trip: "Yes, what?"

Suggesting this way that she wanted a title.

I drew a blank.

Tripping on out of myself even as I sat still beneath her power, her majesty.

She went on, "I enjoy it when you call me by my name. And I'm certainly not looking to be your Mistress. I'm sure we've established that you're the service top between us." Testing my control, Miranda smoothed her hands down to my chest, hedging her weight there. Using me as her support. "But, for this, I want you to recall what you called them. In the past. I know you remember. I want you to call me the same." Of course I remembered… But why? "As for my reasons: well, I'm here, and they aren't. It's a fine reminder. I know that it's dark. Morbid. But I'd like you to do this for me, whether we're alone or not." Soft and supple, she clasped her lips over the corner of my mouth, gently impassioned. "Could you?"

Whatever she wanted; whatever she needed—"Yes, babe… Of course."

"Mmm, I do love your manners as well. You're polite. And such a gentleman. Even while you're bursting at the seams for me."

"I have to be," I justified. "You deserve it. You deserve everything from me. You know that, don't you?"

Miranda did know it—she smiled over my skin as she knew it—yet she still had to tell me: "Shepard. I should warn you first… If you truly decide to make me yours, it won't be a one-sided affair with you doing all the work. As I've already shown, I can lose control with you, too. I may overwhelm you. And I don't say this lightly. Not at all. I only want what's best for you—and I settle for nothing but the best."

"Do you—have doubts about us?"

"None," she promised. "I only want you to think carefully about how you want to move forward with me. I'm not like the women you're used to; and I'm not what you'd ever expect. I'm not entirely secure with myself, and I don't have everything figured out…but something tells me you're up for this ride regardless. As long as you have my honesty. So long as I have yours as well, you won't have to worry about me breaking your heart. Just in case you have any doubts instead—I want you to keep my words in mind. This is my eternal promise to you."