XXXVI. In Memoriam
(Miranda)
Constant worrying got in the way of my attempts to get any work done.
I sat at my desk in an emotional slump, barely holding myself up physically. Sitting up straight, keeping my pride—the same action, the same sentiment. But this rigidness about me couldn't edge away what went on in my head and in my heart. Chronic worrying, worrying, and worrying was my worst enemy.
This enemy of mine kept me company while the Normandy was on its way to our next destination:
The crash site of its predecessor on the snowy planet Alchera. And the one place where I could go to remember my other enemy, now dead—along with the crewmembers lost during the Collector attack.
This recollection of the past had supersized my concerns in the present. Making them all worse.
At first, I wanted to worry that Shepard would have second-thoughts about us. With this latest chance for her to remember her exes, I jumped to the automatic conclusion that she would begin pining after them. After all, who wouldn't have? Anyone would've fallen into despair over the past, remembering those loves, and what could have been. Yet I had to keep reminding myself that Shepard wasn't just anyone. She had given me her word that she'd moved on. She had given me solid reasons as to why she'd left the past in the past. This visit to the crash site seemed to be more for Joker, Garrus, Tali, and Dr. Chakwas than anything else. Not for her personal sorrows and recollections. So I'd set that aside.
I'd had a productive few hours of work by then.
But I'd disrupted my productivity by making a mistake. The terrible mistake of checking around the ship via the surveillance feeds. And I'd found a small group of the team eating and socializing together in the mess hall: Tali, Garrus, Joker, and Mordin only. Zaeed and Legion had elected not to join them. Jack was still busy brooding down in her section of the Engineering subdeck. And as our strong and solitary leader, Shepard would never be seen socializing like this on the ship—not unless it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. So it was just these four dining at once, laughing in an easy comfort with one another.
They were still together at this moment, having long-since finished their meals. Garrus, Tali, and Joker currently listened to Mordin regale them with a few tales of his storied time with the Salarian Special Tasks Group. Wide-eyed and eager to learn more about how the salarians handled their espionage work, they listened and chimed in with joy and glee. At home in comfort, they practically owned the mess hall.
I continued to watch them.
So insecure, hating myself, I continued to listen to their entertainment.
I continued to fixate on Tali—on how different she was compared to me.
How outgoing she was. How easily she got along with others. How simple it was for her to laugh.
Even once the conversation took a somber turn to the original Normandy, Tali never lost track of what to say. She never became too caught-up in her image, worrying how others would perceive her. She never compromised her personality for the sake of saving face. Genuinely so, she was always herself.
And everyone liked her because of her authenticity. Even Zaeed had a grudging respect toward her.
I had to stop comparing myself to her. Because if this kept up, I'd start worrying about too much else. I knew for a fact that Shepard hadn't invited Tali to her cabin or anything of the sort. By watching these feeds, I'd been able to keep track: at most, Shepard would find Tali in passing somewhere on the ship. They would exchange smiles, and perhaps talk for a bit, before Shepard retreated back to her room to continue resting. They didn't at all seem as if they were on track to run off together—leaving me behind.
Over these past few days since we'd left the Migrant Fleet, I'd had too much time to myself. Time to assume the worst, all because Shepard wasn't here. She'd stayed alone in her room, resting without me.
Yet all this time, I'd continued to worry that Shepard would see something in Tali that I didn't have—
That she would grow bored of me.
That she would decide she couldn't trust me.
That she wouldn't find me as beautiful or remarkable anymore.
Not nearly as perfect anymore, despite my best efforts in concealment.
And that she would change her mind, and in fact dislike me because I was unlikable.
No…it didn't look like that was going to happen.
Shepard honestly intended on keeping her word to me. All of her words. Every single one of them.
I hoped she had taken in my words as well, in the letter I'd written in response to hers.
My black and white thinking wasn't doing me any favors. I needed to keep my own peace.
The realization helped to disperse my nerves, somewhat. Just to make sure, I searched for Shepard throughout the ship with these cameras. I soon found her down on the engineering deck, fluttering my worries a bit, until I remembered that Tali was still busy chatting with the others in the mess hall. So she wasn't the reason behind Shepard's visit to this particular area. Instead, Shepard was on her way down the steps, leading to the subdeck. Down below to that dark, red-lit area where Jack resided, all alone.
Yet Shepard stopped mid-step, the combat boots of her Alliance fatigues making no noise in her pause.
As if sensing my eyes on her, she waited in her conscious questioning.
She couldn't possibly know that I had access to these cameras. For all I knew, she wasn't aware of these surveillance feeds at all. They were primarily for the Illusive Man or myself. No one else.
Nevertheless, Shepard's instincts pricked at her anyway. Picking up on my nosiness.
After a moment of wondering, she continued onward, descending down the rest of the stairs.
I shook off this odd sense that she sensed me, remembering:
I had sent Jack those files about her family. Apparently, her mother and father had divorced some time ago due to the strain on their marriage after such loss. They still communicated on occasion to discuss their scant findings on Jack's whereabouts. The only substantive clue they'd been able to track down was one of Jack's online pseudonyms—Jacqueline Nought, as a clever switching and merging of her alias, Subject Zero, and her name. But they had nothing solid as to where she actually was these days. I wasn't even sure if they knew of her criminal background, or the time she'd spent at the Teltin facility.
Jack had also joined the team chat. She hadn't said a word so far. But everyone seemed glad to have her around. I had a feeling she'd at least read their kind messages, even if she didn't quite trust them yet.
Shepard made it downstairs to the den-like space of the subdeck. She found Jack sitting on the bed lined against the wall, near the calming hum of the machinery. Her omni-tool interface open, her studied eyes trained on the files I'd sent her, Jack almost didn't notice her visitor standing nearby. Only on the off-chance did she spot our captain in her periphery. Somewhat startled, Jack tried to play it off, yet she wouldn't look at Shepard directly. No, there was some sort of hesitation about her for some reason.
To-the-point, Shepard stated, "EDI said you wanted to talk to me. Something on your mind?"
Jack stared off at a random corner of the room. "Yeah. Maybe. You look like you don't wanna be here."
"Still getting used to some things."
Embarrassed, Jack rubbed at her biceps, her shoulders. Her tattoos.
Shepard folded her own arms, adding, "It's going to take time. That's all."
"Look, I'm not like that, okay?" claimed Jack, sounding guilty enough. "I don't even know why I joined the stupid cult in the first place! It's just what I did back then. I jumped around all over the place. Wherever, whenever. I wasn't thinking about the actual shit they believed in. I never cared about any of it."
"They gave you somewhere to belong."
Jack looked as if she hadn't considered such a thing. "I guess they did… They were the first group of people that didn't treat me like I was some cheap thrill. They cared…but it wasn't real. I knew it wasn't."
"And how do you feel now that you're on this team? Is anything different? Or is it the same as before?"
"It's…different. Real different. Everyone's actually—welcoming? I can't believe Cerberus is paying me to be on this team. I'll have my own credits that didn't come from selling some shit I stole. I keep thinking it's a dream. Like I'll wake up and they're gonna screw me over somehow. I'll go back to what I knew."
"That's not going to happen," insisted Shepard. "The team wants you here. You're important to them."
Jack frowned in disbelief, asking, "Why? How am I important? Or is it only because of how strong I am?"
"They know you're used to the worst. This is their chance to show you otherwise. Prove you wrong."
"Are you part of that, too? You seriously care about me, Shepard?"
Put on the spot all of a sudden, Shepard said nothing.
Cynical, Jack snorted. "Right. Guess I shouldn't have asked that. You don't care about anyone—except your girlfriend. What the hell do I matter? It's not like you could have let me die back on that prison ship last week. Or shot me down. Sniped me, ended it all. Except you didn't. So what does it say about you?"
"I ordered my team to bring you back alive. I made sure they succeeded. That's what it says about me."
"What kind of answer is that?!" demanded Jack, bolting to her feet. "I'm trying to have an actual conversation with you, Shepard! You ever think that's why I told you to come down here? Because I wanted to talk to you, maybe? Because you're the one who decided if I got to live or die, and I had my life in your hands? Your girlfriend gave me a reason to turn my shit around. I wanted to tell you about it! You know, get your opinion? Your approval? Now you're acting like a total asshole! For no reason!"
Shepard realized she had clearly hit a nerve. "Jack, what does it matter if you have my approval or not?"
"What do you mean, what does it matter!? It matters, okay? It's a big deal. You're a huge fucking hero, and it's a huge fucking deal! Did you not listen to a word I said? Am I talking to a wall or something?"
"I didn't come down here to have some blown-out, emotional argument with you. I'm not in the mood."
Such raw desperation scratched at Jack's voice—"Then what are you in the mood for, huh? Go on, tell me! This is your ship. Your rules. Fine. I'll play along! Just…tell me what I have to do. What do I have to do to make you stop looking at me like that…?"
In any other situation, with anyone else, Shepard would have likely walked away by now.
Though she had made herself more available for these chats with the team, this discomfort remained.
She had a difficult time accepting her emotional importance in Jack's eyes…as I feared she would do with me. And so I held myself back. Even today. Even now as I watched this silence stretch on and on.
The fact remained that Shepard was now the powerful authority figure in Jack's life.
It was up to her whether or not she would accept the role, or discourage Jack from viewing her this way.
Shepard considered for a moment, before asking, "Have you used the VR training like I ordered you to?"
"For controlling my biotics? Yeah, I did what you said. It's a real bitch. Kind of like running a marathon, but killing virtual dudes with my biotics over and over instead. My scores suck ass. I keep getting tired."
"I noticed."
More relaxed now, Jack sat back down on her bed. "Then why the hell did you ask if you knew already?"
"I wanted to see what you would say."
"You mean if I'd lie to your face."
Shepard shrugged. "Maybe."
"Yeah, okay. You're a real funny-woman, you know that? All that dry humor of yours is making me thirsty." Jack waited for Shepard to react to the punchline. She received no such reaction to her silly pun. "Get it? Your sense of humor is dry. Like I need water. Thirsty? Not the other kind." When Shepard only glanced away, Jack threw her hands in the air. "Oh, come on! I can't even tell corny jokes? You still won't let up? That's how you are? All military, all the time? I call BS. I saw you smiling at Tali earlier!"
"I've also known Tali for almost three years. You and I barely met last week."
"I thought you were dead for two of those years? How does that count?"
Shepard refused to give an answer to that.
Dismayed, Jack relented, "Sorry—that was stupid. We're on our way to the crash site for a reason…"
Joker made his timely, somber announcement, "Hey folks, we're almost at Alchera. I've got a note from the commander—if you want to head down to the crash site, suit up and meet her down in the cargo hold in twenty minutes. We'll take the shuttle down planetside. It's cold as heck out there in the snow, so be sure to bundle up."
Noticing Jack's sudden apprehension, Shepard asked, "Did you want to join us? Or are you staying?"
"I'm invited…? I thought it was just for your old team."
"Not at all. Miranda's coming with us, too. You can if you want to."
"I mean, I remember seeing the news about it. Took a while for the truth to sink in that you were gone. After everything you pulled off…I don't know. I was kinda down about it. You gave me hope, too."
"Then you should come along."
Self-conscious, Jack looked down at her motorcycle vest, her baggy pants, and combat boots. "I don't really have any clothes for the cold. No breather mask, either. I won't have anything until I get paid…"
"We can take care of that for you," promised Shepard. "It won't be a problem."
"Okay… Thanks."
"Hold on."
Shepard used her omni-tool to pull up her messaging interface.
And then, in real-time, I watched as she wrote to me in our private chat room:
[14:11:34] Shepard: Babe, do you know who's coming with us to the Normandy crash site?
[14:11:50] Me: Yes, I do. I have confirmation from Tali, Garrus, Joker, and Dr. Chakwas. Everyone else except for Jack has politely declined. They seemed to assume that this is only for the original team.
[14:12:03] Shepard: I'm down in the Engineering subdeck with Jack now. She agreed to join us. But she doesn't have the right gear for the snow. She pretty much only has the clothes on her back for now.
[14:12:20] Me: That's fine. I figured Jack might want to come along. I've already purchased a snow jacket, a pair of gloves, and a breather mask in her size. If you want, I can take them to her.
[14:12:39] Shepard: You should. Thanks for thinking ahead. I'll leave to go get ready once you get here.
[14:12:53] Me: Of course. But is there any particular reason why you don't want to handle this yourself? I know we didn't exactly have the best introduction to her. Jack seems harmless enough these days.
[14:13:10] Shepard: She reminds me of Ashley.
[14:13:23] Me: Do you mean…if things had reached this point with her violence and anger?
[14:13:50] Shepard: Yes. Sometimes I hear Ash's voice through her words. It hurts a lot. Especially today.
[14:14:23] Me: I see what you mean. You don't have to say anything more about it. I only hope you won't take this out on her. Jack looks up to you a great deal. I'd like you to look out for her instead. She needs to rely on you. We all do. Jack's specific needs are just a little bit different than everyone else's. Try to be gentle with her. Without being too obvious, of course. I'm certain her pride would like to say otherwise.
[14:14:37] Shepard: Yeah, you're right. I'm not that great at this part of the job. I wish I was.
[14:14:46] Me: Maybe another change in perspective is in order. Will you think this over? For me.
[14:15:59] Shepard: Yes, babe. I promise I'll think about it.
[14:16:07] Me: Good. Thank you. I'm on my way to you and Jack now.
I turned the surveillance feed off, and left my desk, heading over to my holo-closet. I retrieved my own breather mask, along with the items that I'd purchased for Jack: a men's bomber jacket, and sturdy winter gloves, both in extra small sizes—and both all-black, to match what she seemed to prefer. This second transparent breather mask was small enough to fit over her mouth and nose. I figured the pants and combat boots she already had would suit the snow just fine. So I took what I had with me, out to the elevator and down to the engineering deck.
The Normandy seemed much quieter than usual today.
As it should have been—considering the occasion.
I found it touching how respectful the rest of the crew were of this time and place.
Heading down the two sets of stairs to the subdeck, I barely heard the sounds of Shepard and Jack speaking together. They sounded decidedly less tense and awkward than before. Discussing the weather, Shepard explained to Jack that it didn't snow in her hometown. Jack sounded fascinated to learn about this trivia, as her own hometown where her mother lived wasn't far from San Diego at all.
Approaching Shepard from behind where she leaned on a nearby table, I did my best not to interrupt her conversation. She heard my heels clicking along this steel flooring nonetheless. As I set everything on the table behind her, Shepard stood at a relaxed sort of attention. Finding me with her eyes. Facing me, as well, while Jack looked on at us in a wide-eyed interest and curiosity. In fact, there was something in Jack's harmless gaze that gave away what she knew. She had likely overheard Shepard with me in the med bay the other morning—arguing, making out, and almost-making-up and all.
Even so, these small details about Shepard changed as she regarded me.
No longer did I sense that same anger and raw mood from her that had made me worry and worry.
There appeared to still be something on her mind. That I couldn't deny. I saw it in her eyes, unknowable.
Yet there was now a constancy for me radiating through her gaze, well past her frustrations. The dark, pervasive atmosphere of blue and red lights dyed her eyes, her skin, and all as pure duality. She looked past whatever else bothered her these days, finding me with this patience instead. This love unspoken.
I couldn't understand the particulars of what went on with her, yet I understood how she made me feel.
Unconditional affections filled Shepard's movements as she kissed the corner of my mouth.
I wasn't sure how or when my face had grown so warm; or even how Shepard had pulled me this close to her by the small of my back, enlarging the emotion of my own gaze on her. I couldn't mind that Jack watched us so closely in this moment. I couldn't care that the Illusive Man probably watched us through his own surveillance feeds. This meaning in Shepard's stare and possessiveness had surpassed all else.
"Shepard…what's this about?"
Inhaling, slowly, as if breathing in the softness of my voice, Shepard murmured, "Nothing. Nothing at all." She stroked my face with her hand, at once tender and decisive. I wasn't sure how, but she seemed to be making up her mind about something now. "Thanks for doing this. I'll see you in a few minutes."
When she left, heading back up the stairs, she took my breath with her. Shepard was a mystery sometimes. Such a wonderful mystery.
Smirking in vagueness, Jack walked over to me.
"Hey, you," she greeted.
"Hello, Jack," I responded. Finding my bearings, I glanced around. "Why did you choose to stay here?"
Jack shrugged. "It's dark, quiet and hard to find. That spells safety to me."
"You don't need to be afraid of us, you know."
"Yeah, I know," she accepted. "Old habits. I'll get it over it." Jack pointed to the clothes sitting on the table. "Those for me?"
"They are," I said, picking up my own breather mask. "Please, take them. They're yours. It's simple enough to program the mask to keep your face heated at the right temperature. You should be fine."
"Thanks…"
While Jack put on her gear, I spotted that small smile on her face. She appeared to enjoy the bundled feeling of wearing this jacket and matching gloves. She also noticed how they fit with her style. I smiled off to the side, glad that she liked everything. There was something about this that I found fulfilling.
Then I remembered: "You know, Jack, you're allowed to ask me for things like this. I may be XO, but that doesn't just mean that I'm Shepard's second-in-command. You can contact me if there's something you require, exactly as I told you in my welcoming email. This is what I'm here for."
Comfortable in her jacket and gloves now, Jack struggled to say, "I get what you mean. This whole thing is still pretty new for me. I told Shepard earlier that I'm basically expecting the worst. Like something'll happen and I'll be back on my own again. I don't want to get too attached. I don't like asking for favors."
"I understand. I only hope that things will improve in time. If there's anything I can do to help you settle in, you're free to let me know. You can email me or send me a private message in the team's chat room. Or simply pay me a visit in my office. It's up to you."
Jack stuffed her hands in her pockets as she sulked, "There is something I wanted to ask, actually…"
"Ask away, then."
"So, I read over that huge report. You know, the one about all the shit that went down before I joined—and two years ago after the Collectors attacked the original ship. The old team went through some serious drama. I have no clue how they made it out of that. There's just one thing that kept jumping out at me. The way you described someone. One of Shepard's exes. The one she killed in the other room upstairs."
Jack was quite perceptive if she'd picked up on this.
"What about her?" I asked.
Such earnestness—"Shepard can barely look at me sometimes… Am I like some blast from the past?"
I had indeed described Ashley as reckless and dangerous. Angry. Unpredictable.
And here was Jack today, worrying that Shepard disliked her for those reminders.
"The two of you aren't entirely similar," I counseled. "You share some traits, yes. But you are your own person. Shepard recognizes this. Just give her some time. She'll come around. None of this is your fault."
"No, I get it. I had to make sure. Thought you might sugarcoat the whole thing. I'm glad you didn't."
"And I'm glad I could answer your concerns. Why don't we head out for now? We shouldn't keep Shepard and the others waiting. If you'd like, we can speak more about this another time."
"Yeah, let's get going."
Breather masks in-hand, we set off for the elevator together.
As we went, Jack glanced at my uniform and asked, "Is that what you're wearing?"
"Yes, it is," I replied. "The cold won't be a problem for me. There's no need to worry."
I wasn't sure if now was the best time to explain Shepard's ability to use her implants with me, for me.
Jack's worries brimmed through her expression anyway. I was glad that she cared, at least.
Down in the cargo hold, we found Shepard already here in her N7 armor. She carried on a light conversation with Dr. Chakwas, also dressed appropriately for the cold. They both said hello to us, waving Jack and me over to the shuttle with them. Even as the Normandy stayed within reach of Alchera's cold, cold chill, this low temperature around us began to filter through to me. Mindful as ever, Shepard held my hand and activated her temperature implants, increasing the heat for both of us.
I felt warmed all over just as Tali, Garrus, and Joker emerged from the elevator together.
The seven of us entered the shuttle together, struggling to make room. Temporary levity: everyone smiled as Shepard settled on having me sit on her lap, saving space that way. But this good mood began to dissipate as we reached the planet's surface—for the first time, for Jack and me, and the second time for everyone else.
And this time, Shepard was alive as that snowy landscape greeted her outside the shuttle's window.
Complete silence wrapped around us in this cold.
Total reflection surrounded us, refracting overhead as the auroras did, coloring the clear blue skies in those green sheens.
Whole emotions blew through us, billowing with this freezing breeze.
We all stood at the exact spot.
That exact spot where the original team had found Shepard's body in the snow, where Liara had been able to lead them.
All the while, the original Normandy's wreckage remained scattered all across the area, staying in vigil.
None of us said a word for what felt like ages.
I stood by Shepard's side as she stared down at this patch of snow. Like staring at her own grave, she kept such a grave sense of gravity about her. That endless pull, I felt from her gloved hand in mine. She didn't need to physically reach out, or say a word—Shepard held all of us together with her mere presence after we had lost her before. On my other side, Jack no doubt felt the beginnings of real unity with us, sharing in this moment, even if she didn't have any direct memories of what had happened here. She and I only had this indirect knowledge, knowing how Tali and Ashley had broken down in such a shaking mess upon finding Shepard's armored corpse. Burned to black from burning out in the atmosphere, her N7 armor had cracked in those specific places—with only her dog tags able to identify her properly, reliably.
On Shepard's other side, Tali leaned on her. Likely remembering the same, all the same. Shepard held her close, remembering memories that didn't exist for her; sympathizing as much as she could this way. Next to Tali were Garrus, Joker, and Dr. Chakwas, respectively, each of them moored in their quieted emotions. Joker kept folding his cap over his head. Possibly still blaming himself for losing the Normandy back then—and for losing Shepard. Shouldering that shame to this day.
I felt all of them remembering the ones they had lost. Saying goodbye.
For all of Tali's defiance, I knew that she missed both of her friends—Liara and Ashley. Differently.
She and the others probably remembered Kaidan as well. Especially since we would see him again soon.
He should have been here with us. That Shepard had chosen to visit this crash site first spoke of her own worries. I sensed her apprehension, now, as to whether she could convince Kaidan to join us at all. He had no love for Cerberus; he wouldn't approve of me at all. And perhaps Shepard had brought us here to find the strength, the reasons to persuade him with. If not the logical reasons, then the emotional ones. Much of our reality today had been altered by her decision to have Kaidan go through with his treatment, instead of bringing him along to Virmire with the team. That ripple effect of choices and consequences would only continue to bend and arc more, influencing the rest of our future together.
I knew that Tali and the others planned on revealing the truth to Kaidan soon—if not directly after we returned to the ship following this trip. Of course he would be horrified to learn of what Ashley had done, more so than anything else. Horizon would no doubt prove to be a litmus test for Shepard's diplomacy.
After a generous amount of time, Garrus went to retrieve the memorial from the shuttle.
This set piece honoring the original Normandy—Shepard decided to place the figure near the remains of the mess hall. Hanging wires, torn and fractured steels, and tables and chairs askew: they all endured the cold here, the weight of this space. And the ghosts from the team's old times cooking and laughing together.
I wondered exactly why Shepard had chosen this spot.
Perhaps she regretted not spending enough time with everyone here in particular.
She continued to avoid such socializing these days. Yet it was clear that she thought of the possibilities.
While everyone took these final moments to reflect, I remembered my own past:
When I'd heard the news about Shepard's death, I was at my apartment on Illium at the time. I'd tried to deny it. I hadn't been able to accept reality. But then the Illusive Man had sent me an email, confirming that the Collectors had indeed attacked the Normandy. They had killed Shepard; taken her from this galaxy far too soon. He'd done his best to give me logic—to assure me that we could bring her back, and that this was only a setback for us. Yet my emotions had kicked in, blinding me to all logic. Blinding me.
In my blindness, I had turned to alcohol. One glass of bourbon after another. Another and another as I moped around the clinical chill of my apartment. I remembered the constant sounds of my short, thick alcohol glass setting down over the other glass of my coffee table, in my living room downstairs; the louder sounds of my alcohol bottles piling up over that surface. Lighter and lighter the sounds became as I emptied the bottles, drinking and consuming. Numbing the pain while the rest of Illium carried on beyond my wide picture windows, as that landscape of a metropolis: buildings rising higher than my spirits ever could, and traffic racing onward through the skies, soaring past my hopes. Trying to drown away my regrets over having lost Shepard; having lost my chance to ever tell her, or show her how I felt, and how much she meant to me. How I needed her. How I loved her…to death.
Drinking and drinking that much, to such excess, blacking out—I should have died.
Somewhere, I'd wanted to die—to join her in death, wherever she was.
I hadn't had the strength to go on. To get to work. To actually do what the Illusive Man had tasked me to do, in bringing her back. To this day, I wasn't sure how I had broken out of that misery. Such a mystery.
I had only spent about a week trying to kill myself with alcohol.
And then I'd stopped. In that mysterious way, I'd pulled myself out of it.
I'd forced myself to sober up—before taking the first transport from Illium to Earth. To San Diego.
History had played out from there.
And now I finally felt as if I could let go of the past. I let go of my worrying and wondering about who and what I was. Though it hurt, still, to think of Ashley and Liara, I could move on. I could move forward, certain in the certainty that I had done what was necessary. There was no taking it back. I found my own strength to accept what had happened without blaming myself anymore.
The source of her own mysterious strength, I sensed in full once Shepard guided me back to the shuttle with everyone else. Her own purpose, renewed: she found her own reasons to press onward. Whatever mood had plagued her over the past few days, Shepard chose to set aside. She walked closer to me, stayed closer to me, and felt closer to me, as if her existence had meshed to mine, unobstructed now.
As ever, there was something still troubling her spirit. Yet she chose to live with it instead of ignoring it.
Shepard gave off this same sense as we returned to the ship, and went to the comm room together.
Helmet removed, she called the Illusive Man for our briefing on Horizon over the QEC.
Cigarette smoke misting through this supergiant's light, the Illusive Man observed us from his chair. That eerie blue of his eyes glowed well past the red blare, the gray haze, and the slick chrome of the surfaces all around him. Self-assured in his knowledge and certainty, he had his eyes trained most on Shepard for some reason. Studying her, watching her, the Illusive Man seemed to be searching for something, hidden past her stern severity. Holding her cards close, as was natural, Shepard remained unreadable, even from him. No amount of time or observation would change this. She stayed hidden in plain sight.
Not entirely invisible—Shepard gripped my hand a little tighter in her stiffness. She refused to budge.
Blowing out another cloud of smoke, the Illusive Man set these odd attempts aside, addressing us both:
"Shepard. Miranda. It's good to see you here together. And not a moment too soon. Horizon—our human colony in the Terminus Systems—just went silent. If it isn't under attack, it soon will be. Has Mordin delivered the countermeasure for the seeker swarms?"
Shepard responded, "He's close. Should only be a matter of time now."
"Let's hope he works well under pressure," said the Illusive Man. "We also can't forget about your former teammate, Kaidan Alenko. The Collectors are going after him to get to you. But it can't be avoided. We need to get down to the colony as soon as possible to investigate what the Collectors are up to—before the Alliance can get in our way. Your orders are to get the situation under control."
"Understood, Sir," I replied. "Send us the coordinates and we'll head straight there."
"I expect this will be a good opportunity to learn more about the Collectors, how they operate. If nothing else, Staff Commander Alenko should prove to be a fine asset—if you're able to recruit him during the mission."
"Joker and the others have mentioned the possibility. They plan on telling him the whole truth ahead of time. I'm not sure if it will help or hurt our chances. Either way, he'll know everything that happened."
"It's probably for the best. This should save you some time. I imagine you have a plan, Commander."
"I know how to handle Kaidan," asserted Shepard. "It won't be a problem. He'll join us."
The Illusive Man nodded in approval. "I appreciate your confidence about this," he praised, smoking once more. "In other news, I'll have a possible reward for you sometime after the mission is finished. It will be up to you whether or not you'll put it to use."
"What kind of reward do you mean?" she asked.
"It involves EDI. I noticed that the team seems to have warmed up to the ship's AI—much sooner than I'd anticipated. So, I have something in mind that should continue that process. And for the sake of building your team even more. Depending on your tolerances, this should be a fine surprise. We'll have to see."
"I'll take your word for it."
"I trust that you will. In the meantime, prepare yourselves for Horizon—and for the worst with Alenko's inevitable resistance to the truth. This is the most warning we've ever had with the Collectors. Good luck."
As our surroundings returned to the Normandy, some of Shepard's stiffness left her body.
But I still continued to worry about her.
Shepard did look troubled, and angry, yet not in an obvious way.
I had to ask her, "What's wrong? You've had a lot on your mind lately. Haven't you?"
"There is a lot on my mind, yes."
"Would you…like to talk about it?"
Shepard glanced at the Cerberus logo on my uniform, once, before saying, "Miranda, we have our mission soon. It's important. I don't want us to get distracted before we touch down. Why don't we skip this whole thing instead? I'll get over myself soon enough. I should get back to my room to recharge."
As she made to leave, I called out to her, "Shepard, wait! Don't do this. I've been miserable all this time without you. I've been constantly worrying about every little thing. Your stubborn silence wasn't helping. I thought we weren't supposed to keep things from one another? Whatever happened to that?"
With her back to me, I couldn't read Shepard's reaction at all.
I only had a feeling that none of it was positive or optimistic or good.
Contemplative, she lowered her head. Thinking for a moment.
And then she muttered, "All you need to know is that I'm choosing to be patient. Nothing else matters. I don't want to get into this. Especially not now, not right before Horizon. Please understand."
Patient for what?
I knew I had to set my emotions aside. For the sake of the mission. But she made this eternally difficult.
Understanding far more, Shepard returned to me.
She gave me pure patience in her stare. And in her touch as she held me in her arms.
The eternity of this difficulty, she eased somewhat with her lips over mine—the way she swayed me without moving, and soothed me without soothing at all. Shepard at least allowed this much. She gave me this much, even though she had made herself clear. She gave me this exception, this bending of her tolerances in more ways than I could've imagined. So many contradictions she bestowed to me, with how she would have, could have given me anything—yet she withheld the only truth I had demanded to know. Only giving me the abstract, the intangible in this emotion in her full, comforting lips: deepened, adoring.
But when she pulled away, leaving to her room as stated, I didn't feel any sort of abandonment. I didn't feel her ignoring me; setting me aside. How she wanted to take me with her, to carry me away—it was only the mission that limited her. Only the mission that stopped her. Only the mission that restricted Shepard's voice, stopping her from giving me all the answers I needed and more. So I forced my own patience to cooperate. As I had no choice. As I had to follow her orders. As I wanted for her, evermore.
Still, I worried about her.
Something absolutely wasn't right with her spirit.
I couldn't help feeling as if I had made a mistake somehow, and she simply wasn't telling me what it was.
A mistake that should have been terrible enough to break us apart.
Whatever it was, Shepard had decided to stand by me anyway. Yet I knew her. She was in the midst of planning; figuring out a way to move forward with this. Whether she would tell me upfront what the problem was or not, her message was clear. She would continue to choose me before anyone, before anything else. Everyone and anyone. That message comforted me as I returned to my own room, even as I continued to fret over her anger, hidden far too well behind her patience for me.