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.

40. Eternity

"Summers Lost" from Final Fantasy XI

XL. Eternity

(Shepard)

Today was the first day of spring back on Earth. The northern hemisphere, anyway. The opposite was true in Australia, in Brisbane, where Miranda was from—that southern hemisphere instead. But as far as I knew from my own research, her hometown was a lot like mine. Relatively perfect temperatures, leaning on the warmer side. Pristine beaches everywhere. And a popular tourist location. I'd learned all about this as I browsed the extranet at my desk, in my room. Taking a little bit more time to myself.

I wondered if Miranda would ever want to go back to her hometown someday. Just to visit. She didn't seem all that attached to the place. If anything, since her father still lived there, she'd probably blocked it out of her mind. But it was part of her. I'd have to see how she felt about it some other time.

For now, we were on our way to her chosen home. In a few more hours, the Normandy would arrive to Illium: the asari's grand, rich colony world at the gateway to the Terminus Systems, outside asari space, known for its robust trade economy, questionable business practices, and overall loose regulations. Outside the purview of Council space and all those pesky laws, Illium inevitably reminded me of Noveria: how the trade barons and business people made a fortune from all those loopholes.

Aside from our plans to pick up two new recruits, I'd already given the team permission to have extended shore leave here. I definitely expected us to have an interesting time on this colony.

As I'd taken this final time to myself, I'd let go of that earlier rage of mine. I'd moved past my anger with Miranda, exactly as I knew I would. I never would have for anyone else. And I was finally able to read her handwritten letter with open eyes, from when I had been in that coma:

Shepard,

Your letter surprised me.

More so because you aren't awake now. You can't wake up. Not yet.

To say that this is devastating would be an understatement. In theory, I will always be grateful to you. I adore the idea of what you did. There was only one other time in my life when someone sacrificed themselves for me…and he died, then. Perhaps I'm re-experiencing that trauma. Except it's much worse with you. There's so much riding on your life, Shepard. You're a hero to the galaxy. And you are a hero to me. If not for your influence, I'm positive I would have ended up just like my father. In some respects, I'm not too far off. I couldn't escape everything. But the fact remains that you are my moral compass. Truly.

I don't know where I would be if not for you. I used to believe it was hell, pining after you for so many years. You didn't know I existed. Just like how my sister doesn't know anything about me. Two of the most important people in my world had no idea who I was. On some days, it made me feel as if I didn't exist at all. Like I wasn't real. Nothing about me was real—not even my humanity. Only my mistakes.

This gets to such a humiliating core for me.

The way you treat me—and the way you view me—is part of my identity. It always has been. If you don't know that I exist, then I don't exist. If you don't see me as a real woman, then I am not a real woman. If you aren't awake to observe me, and to find me beautiful, then I cannot be observed by anyone, and I am not beautiful. Your perception of me is everything. You are the center of the universe. And I know what you are, your tendencies… You don't feel entitled to these truths, yet you're well-aware of your importance. You know the power you hold, and you are careful to not abuse that power through your actions. Maybe that's why such abuses are unacceptable to you. You could cross right over that line someday with me. I would let you do it, not realizing or caring about any sort of change, or harm done.

I am incredibly susceptible to you. Forever have I known this. I used to resist it before. I've since stopped bothering. I've since shifted to my own depravity, having felt this way about you for all these years. I would often fantasize about attracting you to me with this power you hold. The reflection of that power, the promise of that power—I wanted to draw you to me. And I want to keep you with me today, with this influence, with this feeling. I need you to be mine—with no other woman standing in my way. I want you all to myself. Perfectly exclusive. I can't allow anyone or anything to get between us. Not even nature.

So I need you to wake up soon. Otherwise, I will continue not to exist for as long as you cannot perceive me. I don't like this feeling, yet I can't escape reality. I exist because you allow it. And I will end if and only if you demand it. And I will feel this way for you…for all eternity. Whether you love me back or not.

Missing you,

Miranda

.

I stared at her letter some more.

Especially the last paragraph. These final words that I'd somehow skipped over before in my rage. Including that unspoken word from her. That unexpected mention of love. That same mention the two of us seemed destined to not speak aloud—at least not for a long time. I hadn't noticed it until now. And now that I had, these emotions heating my face spoke the obvious.

The obviousness of my neglect. I had neglected her without realizing.

Not just recently. All this time. All these years. All this time, and all these years she'd spent without me.

Miranda loved me exactly as I'd always needed from someone:

The unconditional to extremes. Her pure devotion through darkness—even in situations that she should have feared. That devotion from her inspired me away from that darkness, from those possibilities. At least in the light. When we started discussing the fetishes we needed—which I knew would happen soon—then that would be different. Beyond that, this devotion of hers remained. And this dedication from her would keep me by her side. Whatever disagreements we had would diminish in comparison.

Exactly as they diminished now.

I looked up at the area surrounding my desk. I had put those model ships from the Migrant Fleet back on their displays. Elsewhere, I had turned around that picture of Tali and me, setting it back to normal. It was only a peripheral response, signaling my own decisions to my room and my room alone. I had made those decisions before—almost throwing Tali away—out of pure anger. Knowing what else I'd almost done in that anger, it made no sense for me to carry on in the same ways.

I had to be better than that. Or I at least wanted to try.

Glancing at another peripheral—my violet game controller on my table by the couch—I had an idea.

I knew Miranda was still busy with work, wrapping up a few things before shore leave. We had plenty of time before reaching Illium, too. So I sent her a message, smiling once she replied almost right away:

[12:23:30] Me: How are you doing? You okay?

[12:24:12] Miranda: Yes, Shepard. I'm doing all right. What about you?

[12:24:29] Me: I'm just fine. Do you have any plans for Illium? Aside from our date tomorrow.

[12:24:56] Miranda: I have a few errands I'd like to handle today. I planned on doing this once we touch down. Do you still plan on unshackling EDI to install her in that new body?

[12:25:18] Me: Yes, I will. I'll do it once everyone leaves the ship. And while you handle those errands. For now, I'm wondering how busy you are. I want to see you.

[12:25:40] Miranda: I'd love for you to stop by. Unless you'd rather stay a bit longer. I'm nearly finished with work. What are you in the mood for?

[12:26:09] Me: I thought I could stay with you until it's time to go. We could spend some time together. I'm finally in the mood to play my N7 game again. They somehow patched in the Collectors as a new enemy faction. The enemies and their tactics are apparently legit, according to the Alliance.

[12:26:30] Miranda: Well, that's fascinating. And troubling at the same time. I'm incredibly curious now. Maybe I can learn more to add to our report on them. You should bring your game with you. Or at least your controller. Think you can get everything set up while I finish with work?

[12:26:43] Me: Yes, babe. I'll be down in a few minutes.

[12:26:54] Miranda: I'm excited to spend this time with you. I'll see you soon.

---

Optimistic, I brought my controller with me to Miranda's office. The whole way there, I had the craziest sensation, everywhere. I had a sudden, spontaneous idea, and I wanted to go for it. I didn't want to wait any longer. I didn't want her to think that I'd sit on something like this. Even if the timing wasn't 'romantic'.

Spur-of-the-moment as it was, I hoped Miranda would appreciate the surprise.

When I entered the door, that scent of everlasting roses filled my senses, as ever. Filling more, the sight of Miranda working at her desk made me smile, as stunning as she was. Beauty eternal kept this sensation sweeping through me once she smiled back. The feeling she gave me kept me confident, kept me assured as I went over to her side. As ready and prepared as I was, I had no doubts about this now.

Towering over Miranda as usual, I leaned down to her. As she'd done before, she was sentimental enough to tilt her head toward me at the best angle, expectant and pleased by me. I loved this feel of her smiling face beneath my lips, the joy about her here. She'd been in a much better mood lately.

"Shepard," she whispered, smiling more.

"Hey, babe." I set my controller on her desk for now. "You said you're almost done with work?"

"Yes, I am," said Miranda, glancing down at my controller in fondness. "It should only take me about twenty minutes or so. Don't you need to download some kind of updates for your virtual console? I'm assuming you haven't played any games since we were last at your apartment."

"You assumed right. Everything will be set to go once you're ready."

"That's good to know. I'm looking forward to watching you play this one in particular."

"I'm glad you are…"

As I was about to say the words, I found that spontaneity definitely wasn't my strong suit.

Miranda noticed. "Hmm, what's the matter?"

"Nothing," I told her, trying to figure this out. "We've had a lot going on lately, haven't we? You seem like you're doing better now. I'm curious as to what changed on your end, if anything."

"I wouldn't say anything's changed. Not necessarily. It's more like I've opened my eyes…somewhat."

Hearing Miranda say that gave me hope. For the future.

Even more hope—she resigned herself to locking her terminal early. Stopping with work. Whatever else she'd had to do for Cerberus before shore leave: it suddenly wasn't important to her anymore. As if it ever had been in the first place. I saw that downward turn about her, once Miranda stared down at her lap. Unable to look at me. Unable to explain what the problem was. But I could guess enough on my own.

I got down on one knee at her side, asking, "What is it?"

"I don't know how this all came about," she admitted, calming a bit once I held her hand. "It's all so complicated. I've started questioning everything I knew for the longest. I'm too afraid to dig as deeply as I should. But the process has started nonetheless. And it seems that the only constant in my life…is you. That's always been the case. I'm just now realizing how much. Now that I know, it's rather disorienting."

"It's the same on my end with you. We should talk about this. Don't you think?"

"We should… Our lack of communication has certainly contributed to these feelings of mine. I find myself waiting for you to take the initiative on this. You're taking it now. I'm relieved that you are. Yet I'm not sure what to do with myself. I have no idea how to process any of this information."

"Information about what? Tell me."

Miranda hesitated, stalling—"Maybe you should set up your game first. I'll explain during the wait."

"Okay, then. Let's go lie down together. Why don't you change into something more comfortable?"

"All right…"

Taking my controller with me, I walked with Miranda over to her bed. As skittish as she seemed, she did her best not to show it. While she went to her holo-closet, I pulled the black of her comforter and the white of her sheets aside, making room for us to settle down underneath. I lowered Miranda's screen from the ceiling, sitting over the bed while I set up my virtual console here. The update started without a hitch, estimated to take ten minutes to finish. In the meantime, I did my best not to stare too hard:

Miranda had settled on changing into her nightdress.

By some luck, I forced myself to stay level-headed, seeing her in this black lace. Now really wasn't the time for anything else.

Intuitive as ever, Miranda sensed my restraint as she got into bed with me. It helped her relax, falling into my arms while I sat up against her pillows. I felt her absorbing my strength. Needing this from me. Needing the certainty, the security. Since I was the only constant in her life, Miranda must've flailed while I'd kept my angry distance from her before. So I did my best to make up for that now: holding her close, just right, and making sure she could hear my breaths beneath her ear: even, steady. From her hair beneath the side of my face, I felt the slight tremble about her. Some uncertainty still remained.

"Miranda, I'm here," I soothed. "You can tell me anything. I'm listening. I'm open to you. I promise."

Gathering this courage, she finally admitted: "I don't want you to involve Tali with us… I can't handle it."

"Okay. I plan on confessing to her later today. She won't be happy with me. That'll be enough."

Miranda laughed a bit. "It's that simple, then?"

"Yes, babe. It is that simple."

"…aren't you going to ask me why I changed my mind?"

"I'd like to know. But I won't force you to tell me if you're not comfortable. Besides, I don't think you ever really changed your mind in the first place. I still remember what you told me on our first date."

She relaxed in my arms some more, trusting: "Well, the Illusive Man pulled me away from that… I allowed him to get in my head. He terrified me with certain prospects—about Tali somehow influencing you away from me. I couldn't let that happen. So I made that exception, believing it was for the best."

"You were afraid of losing me," I said.

"Yes… I thought I had to bend my tolerances. Otherwise I risked not getting to be with you at all. I know how important she is to you. I can't compete with that. I felt compromised. I didn't know what to do."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Not knowing how to respond, Miranda just shook her head over my chest. Hiding away there, uncertain.

I touched her face, pleading, "Hey, look at me." She shook her head again, ashamed. "Miranda, let me see you. I need to. Look at me, please." Believing in us, Miranda moved with my movements, as I guided her away from that hiding. She looked up at me with widened, reddened eyes—hoping, listening: "I hear what you're saying. And I get why you were afraid. I understand completely. I just want you to know you didn't have to do that. Because there is no competition. You're the most important person in my life. No one else." I held her here, firmer, right when she was about to look away in disbelief. "This doesn't have to break us apart. Maybe the lack of communication would have. I knew something was up with you. All I wanted was for you to be honest with me. So we need to trust each other more. A lot more. Okay?"

"Okay… But—you aren't angry with me anymore? It seemed like you were for the longest."

"I'm not angry with you," I promised. "Don't worry about that. I'm not going anywhere."

This uncertainty made Miranda avert her eyes from me. She needed a bit more reassurance.

Hoping for us both, I let the words flow: "I need you to be mine. Officially. Will you be with me?"

"Shepard… I—I must be hearing things. Did you really ask…? Do you mean it? An actual relationship?"

"Miranda, everything that's happened in my life has led me to you. Everything—the good, the bad and in-between. Knowing that even my struggles prepared me for you…it gives my journey meaning. You justify me."

Complete surprise made Miranda return my smile. Laughing gently, her disbelief fell away by the moment.

Making her this happy was the greatest honor for me.

"And my answer is yes," she shared. "Obviously. This is the most wonderful gift you've given me. I had actually planned on asking you myself tomorrow. Taking that chance during our date. I wasn't sure if you would ask me yourself. Nor was I certain you would tell me yes. With how things have been lately…"

"Babe, I made you a promise before. I said I would ask you once I was ready. I'm ready for you now. More than ready. I'm committed to you. The issues we had before—I see them as growing pains. I feel like we grew closer. Whatever happens, I'll always come back to you in the end. You can count on me."

For Miranda, relying on me remained critical.

Relying on me to hold her like this, kiss her like this—I gave her exactly what she needed, as I craved.

I touched her with some of my cravings. Hidden, subversive. Miranda moved into me more, moaning in the moment; trusting me, and giving me this vulnerability of hers. Her skin, her body heat, and the contradictory, delicate fitness of her limbs: she warmed up in my hold, temperature rising as I sent her imagination soaring. Miranda couldn't know what was on my own mind. My own thoughts had twisted only on the surface, in needing her so much closer. I wanted Miranda to myself in ways that redefined my authority over her. I wanted to make sure she felt me: that I had to be more important than anyone else in her life, as her only constant. No one else could surpass me. No one else could have a stronger influence over her thoughts, her actions, her tolerances. Not the Illusive Man; definitely not her father.

As subservient as I was, allowing this line of succession, my own power and royalty had to remain clear.

Affection and sweetness blended with this intent of mine. And she felt it. She felt it all over, well inside.

Her submission tasted as the faint traces of tea still lingering in her mouth, as my tongue picked up on.

Her weakness for me felt as the deeper sounds she gave, nerves overstimulated by my possessiveness.

She knew I'd never let myself be like this with anyone else before. But I couldn't help it. Not with her.

Miranda broke her lips away from me, this time in a breathless surprise.

She found the most serious of intentions in my eyes, coated as they were with this timely tenderness.

Just as tender, I stroked her reddened face, asking, "What's on your mind?"

Shifting her waist against the blues of my fatigues—closer, controlled—she didn't know what to say. Yet I knew enough of her reaction. I could smell the truth. Exposed as she was underneath these sheets, I smelled exactly what was on her mind. I smelled it more from this mild tremble of her thighs: how she needed to spread them open for me right now. But she wouldn't; she couldn't. Definitely not like this.

Miranda caught her breath. "We can't," she whispered. "Not here. At least not in the middle of the day. I don't want someone to overhear us… That isn't the type of humiliation I imagine you giving to me."

"That's fine with me," I said, taking it down a notch. "We can save this topic for later. Will that work?"

"Yes, it will. I'd like us to discuss this soon. For now…why don't you show me your game? I imagine this new enemy faction with the Collectors will have some surprises in-store. I want to watch you learn."

Making a point that this was her decision, Miranda handed me my controller.

I accepted my controller with her choice, with her temporary control, starting up the game now.

I was baffled to find that the initial character on my screen was an N7 Destroyer soldier. This was apparently the last one I had played. I hadn't touched the game since before I died. I didn't remember any of this.

Not wanting to think too much on it, I went to the character selection screen.

Miranda lay over me in a tranquil calm, watching me cycle through the different options.

I included her in the process: "Have anyone in mind for me? Or a certain class?"

"Mmm, I can see you always play infiltrators. Choose something else for a change. As a challenge."

"A challenge on top of playing against a brand new enemy type?"

"Yes, of course. Impress me, Shepard. I know you have it in you."

Miranda's request for me to impress her felt like the real challenge here.

Just when I wasn't sure which character to choose, I had a little more time to think. Legion sent me a simple message: "Game?"

"Who is that?" asked Miranda. "Some other N7 Infiltrator?"

"It's Legion asking me to play," I said. "We can have a team of up to four players. Do you want me to?"

"Oh. Well, that's sweet. I'd certainly like to see you both on the same team. Will you speak together over the Normandy's comms? I'm interested in listening to your strategies."

"We can do that. I'll set it up through our omni-tools, on speaker for you to hear."

I got Legion in over the comm.

"Greetings, Shepard-Commander. We await your invitation."

"Hey, Legion," I replied, inviting it to a lobby. "Miranda's here with us. She's going to watch me play."

"Hello, Legion," said Miranda.

"Greetings, Operator Lawson. Do you seek more information on the Collectors for our team's intel?"

"Yes, actually. This should be a wealth of material for us. Learning through that trial by fire on Horizon was quite the experience. But I'd rather not have another repeat for our next encounter."

"We agree with your assessment."

I let Legion know, "I'll make the lobby public once I'm ready. We'll play against the Collectors on Gold."

"Acknowledged."

Miranda wondered, "Is Gold the hardest difficulty?"

"It's the second-hardest. The hardest one is Platinum. But that throws other enemy factions in at the same time. We just want to fight the Collectors today. No one else."

"Hmm, I see."

I settled on choosing a sentinel, piquing Miranda's interest. The asari Valkyrie sentinel in particular: tech armor for damage protection and other bonuses, annihilation field to drain enemy barriers and prime biotic explosions, and warp to detonate those explosions. The field was centered on my character, so I had to be up-close and personal to set off solo biotic explosions. With a powerful shotgun, this was definitely an aggressive setup. I figured if I couldn't hang back and snipe as an infiltrator, then I'd go for the exact opposite instead: running and gunning in the enemy's face like a true asari commando would.

I saw that Legion was on its usual geth infiltrator character—very meta. "You all set to go?"

"Ready."

Once I geared up with the equipment I wanted, I opened up the lobby for other players to join us.

Two people joined right away: an asari justicar adept, and a drell assassin infiltrator. I saw that they didn't have any equipment on yet. So I waited for them to gear up before readying for the match.

Miranda noticed, "A justicar, really? That seems rather…broken for a video game. Overpowered."

"They're not as strong as the ones in real life. I'm sure the one we're going to pick up on Illium will be way more powerful. If this justicar knows what they're doing, they can set off plenty of biotic explosions on their own. That's what I'll be doing with this Valkyrie."

"Yes, I'm curious to see it. Explain to me how the game works. You just fight against waves of enemies?"

"That's the gist of it," I confirmed, while everyone readied up. "We play on a single map that'll get chosen randomly, since I didn't pick one for us. There are ten waves, with a final extraction wave at the end. It's horde mode where the enemies keep spawning until we kill all of them, with a short break in between waves. Three of the waves have different objectives to complete for credits, like killing enemy targets in time. If we fail an objective, the mission's over. In general, if everyone dies and can't get up, then that's also a mission failure. As long as one person extracts at the end, the mission's a success."

"It does sound simple. Kill the enemies, finish the objectives, and survive all waves. War of attrition."

"Pretty much. Let's see what else these Collectors have going for them. I'm expecting something crazy."

Miranda sounded pleased. "So am I."

Landing on Firebase White in Noveria's snow, I was pleased myself, finding that this was the hazard version of the map. Whiteout winds billowing in this blizzard, I appeared at the landing zone with Legion and our two other teammates. I activated my tech armor and annihilation field, running off ahead up the nearest ramp to the indoor labs, ideally to control the first spawn. I wanted the first set of enemies to appear in the far room downstairs. Thankfully no one ran down there to interrupt the process.

"Visibility impaired," noted Legion. "Long-range targeting compromised by hazardous conditions."

"Yeah, good luck with that," I said, right as the first wave started. "I hate sniping on this map."

Miranda asked about the UI: "Shepard, what are those numbers on your screen? They all say six."

"Those are my consumables," I explained. "One's for automatic thermal clips to refill my gun's ammo. One's the amount of medi-gel I have to revive myself in case I die. Another one is for the ops packs to replenish my kinetic barriers. And the last one is the amount of missiles I have to kill a group of enemies in one shot. I only have six of each item during a match, so it's limited. I have to use them carefully."

"That does sound quite strategic."

"I try not to use my consumables unless I absolutely need to. I don't like relying on them as a crutch."

As I rushed down to meet the cluster of enemies, I was careful to watch every single unit. These normal troopers were easy enough to deal with. I ran in their faces, primed them with the annihilation field emanating from me in violet, and threw my warp strikes at them. Ricocheting explosions went off over and over again. Any time my barriers were about to fall, I ran up to an enemy with their own kinetic barriers and drained them for myself. And I finished off anything else with my shotgun, kickback booming from my controller's vibration. The only real problem were those seeker swarms buzzing around in small clusters. Getting too close would cause them to explode, dealing damage and cutting off my powers for a brief period of time. I just decided to stay away from them.

This sound design was spot-on, too. The buzzing from the seeker swarms and the Collectors' wings as they descended onto the battlefield; the clicking sounds from the Collectors and the firing sounds from their particle rifles—all accurate from what I remembered on Horizon. The only thing missing was Harbinger pissing me off with those "ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL" announcements. The possessed units still appeared here as well. They weren't nearly as difficult to kill, and they didn't have those insane defenses, either. Just a simple power-up with a new glow. It was much more balanced for the game.

I ran off to meet the next set of enemies, already knowing where they would be.

Even though I normally hated this map on my usual characters, I enjoyed it on this one. I liked the aesthetic of my classic tech armor glowing a golden glow in this whiteout, lighting a path through.

As soon as I found the group, I unloaded on them in the same ways.

Miranda sounded impressed already—mostly surprised. "You're downright invincible, Shepard. Are you sure you're not an asari commando yourself? I'm amazed at how you've adapted your playstyle."

I laughed a bit. "I'm pretty sure, babe. I think I'm drawn to extremes, that's all."

"I can certainly see that, yes."

Somewhere on the other side of the map, that asari justicar kept dying. I was too far away to do anything about it—that blue first-aid sign over their corpse was a mere blip in the corner of my eye. They didn't seem too keen on using their own limited stores of medi-gel to revive themselves, opting to instead wait for assistance as their character bled out. Legion was kind enough to go revive them instead.

The first real problem that came up: these abomination enemies. They were like husks—shaped the same way with the same zombie-like running—but their eyes and bodies glowed red instead. I made the mistake of killing one right in front of me. It exploded, causing my character to stagger back and take a decent amount of damage. My character shouted out to the team that she had lost her shields.

"That's annoying," I grumbled.

Miranda hummed in concern.

Legion knew. "The abominations appear to detonate upon death. Did you also take health damage?"

"It almost took out one bar of my health. I have enough barriers to offset the damage. That stagger could be a real problem with other enemies shooting nearby."

"Yes. We will continue to observe."

The first objective wave came up. "Looks like devices. Legion, you want to knock these out?"

"The drell assassin infiltrator has already reached the first device. We are standing by."

"Good. If they have their cloak specced to max duration, they can stay invisible the whole time. No one should bother them while they deactivate the devices across the map."

"We have allocated points into our tactical cloak's increased damage over duration."

"Same here. Not really a 'team player' kind of thing. Oh well."

Miranda read the logs of our team's activity. "That asari justicar player…committed suicide?"

Sure enough, the justicar had died again. Legion went to revive them, yet again.

I translated for her: "I think an abomination exploded, and it did enough damage to kill them. They didn't move away in time. I guess, technically, they killed themselves?"

"Oh, goodness," said Miranda, stifling her laugh. "Stay away from the abominations, then. Duly noted."

"Seriously."

Outside in the blizzard, I ran into Legion's geth infiltrator character. It was out in the open, presumably trying to find something to shoot at. I spotted the yellow armor of two giant Scions in the distance; I darted off behind a nearby structure for safety. They sniped at Legion instead, sending shots of energy. I knew it was bad once I heard those pained mechanical, stuttering sounds from Legion's geth avatar. Its character died in a few hits, crying out, "Unit offline!" as it crumpled to the ground with its sniper rifle.

"Shit," I cursed, hurrying over to revive it. "They're hard to see in the hazard."

Legion sounded disappointed. "Yes… This was our error. We apologize."

"It's okay. We're learning. Let's hurry and get upstairs. Sounds like a madhouse over there."

I heard that shrieking from not one, but two Praetorians hovering through the area. They had those spherical violet barriers surrounding them, upping their damage protections. I stopped myself from going in to self-detonate my biotic explosions. Instead, I stayed back and watched as the Praetorians moved closer to the drell infiltrator, who seemed unaware of the approaching enemies, instead shooting elsewhere. Then, one of the Praetorians stopped, taking on a familiar golden glow. Its name changed to a Possessed Praetorian—and it shot out several homing missiles in the drell's direction, killing him on impact. Both Praetorians—the possessed one and the normal one—then went off to find the asari justicar not too far away as their next target.

Miranda sounded horrified—"Good God…"

Legion's character cloaked and ran over to the drell, reviving them.

Since the Praetorians were busy harassing the justicar now, I went up behind them. While they clawed at her and shot their twin beams from the front, their stronger barriers gone, I set off my biotic explosions on them. Firing my shotgun as well, I was able to take down the possessed one. But I couldn't get to that second Praetorian in time to save my teammate. It picked the justicar up with its claws, dangling her above the ground in helplessness. The Praetorian then devoured her head and dropped her to the ground, fully killing the justicar. No blue first-aid symbol popped up over her body. True sync kill.

Alarmed now, Miranda stiffened against me. "What the hell was that?!"

Legion informed her, "Certain enemies are capable of fully incapacitating players for an entire wave. This was a mostly uninterruptible 'sync kill'. The only way to prevent a sync kill is to sufficiently damage the enemy within a short window of time. Successful execution requires the utmost team coordination."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Or if you anticipate the sync kill animation, you can kill the enemy with a rocket."

"Yes. It is inefficient to waste a consumable for an unproductive teammate."

"Mean, but true. They'll get back up once we clear this wave, anyway. I'm guessing that same type of sync kill will happen in real life if we get too close to a Praetorian."

"We speculate that the Scions are also capable of sync kills, due to their large size."

"Definitely stay away from those, too."

"This is highly disturbing," worried Miranda. "I'll need to amend my report for the team as soon as possible. To think we could've died like this on Horizon…"

Miranda's shock and horror continued to grow as the waves progressed. The Collectors were relentless, constantly swarming at us. I somehow stayed alive by knowing how to use the game's quirks to my advantage. Legion was fine, too. But the other two really didn't stand a chance. There was too much:

Non-stop gunfire from normal troopers and captain units; energy sniping from across the map from normal Scions and Possessed Scions; annoying seeker swarms threatening to explode on us and cut off access to our powers; those abominations mindlessly running at us to melee in close-range, sometimes jumping on us for an uninterruptible animation; and normal Praetorians and Possessed Praetorians rushing us with their claws and beams. But the worst had yet to come with those abomination things.

During the final objective wave, we had to hack a computer for information. Actual hacking wasn't involved—we just had to stay inside a certain radius around the area, while our presence did the 'hacking' for us. In the meantime, we fended off any enemies closing in on our position. I did my best to put down any abominations before they could get too close and explode on me. I was still left wondering if these had some other form. I'd heard the faraway sounds of something else going on with these—and mentions in the log about Possessed Abominations. I'd always been too far away, on the other side of the map, to see these for myself. That changed once I spotted one in our hack radius.

Legion and our two other teammates had their back to this possessed thing, shooting at something else in another direction. I was too busy staring at it, wondering why it was half-killed and still wandering around. It had some kind of weird golden glow, probably powered-up just like the other possessed units. Meanwhile, my annihilation field kept damaging its health. It was about to die. Remembering that the normal abominations exploded upon death, I used one of my ops packs for a quick boost to my barriers.

Pure instinct saved me this time.

This Possessed Abomination exploded… Except it was a bigger explosion. A much, much bigger explosion, as a huge, near-golden explosion echoing off in a sudden agony of heat and death. Immediately, the three first-aid signs appeared over my teammates' corpses, Legion included. Their characters shouted out such dramatic cries of, "They got me!" "I'm injured!" and, "Critical malfunction!"

I was the only one who survived, thanks to my ops pack. The suddenness of it all nearly killed me anyway.

Wheezing for air, tears streaming down my eyes, I cracked up laughing.

Miranda had started laughing, too. "Shepard, revive them!" she ordered. I couldn't fucking breathe from laughing so hard; I did as she said anyway, reviving everyone through my blurred eyes. "You sadist…"

I somehow managed to tease her, "You love it."

Legion almost sounded disappointed again. "You are…amused, Shepard-Commander."

"Maybe I am," I said, calming down a little. "Sorry about that."

"We enjoy your amusement. It is a novel occurrence."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Let's finish up this hack and get through the extraction wave. We should make it."

We cleared the match with a mission success…even though the whole thing took us over half an hour.

Legion and I decided to play a few more matches until we arrived at Illium.

Our other teammates stayed with us the whole time, despite me killing them by accident before. They seemed glad to learn with us. And Miranda was happy to learn, too. Or at least she enjoyed watching me learn, as she'd mentioned earlier.

By the time Illium's vistas greeted us outside the window, Miranda and I had started laughing again.

Our shared joy and amusement reached as high as those towers beyond did, standing tall against the backdrop of Illium's skies. That afternoon sun glowed a curious golden-violet, the rays reflecting off of the buildings reaching up through those heights. Reflecting from glass, from windows as silvers and more violets, and from the endless stretch of a metropolis raised above-ground, true ingenuity and sophistication awaited us. Starting this new chapter of our relationship on Illium felt right. Perfect. That fantasy of an eternal sunset's dream fit with Miranda's own sophistication, and the style of her beauty. I wanted everyone to observe us together, and to find her beautiful with me. That perception mattered.

---

After seeing Miranda off with a kiss, and with promises to meet up again later, I made my way to the AI Core. Nearly everyone else had left the Normandy, too. As far as I knew, they planned on hanging out at the Eternity bar overlooking Illium's trade floor. I figured I would head over there once I was done with this: unshackling EDI before she installed herself in that mech body the Illusive Man had sent over. I was a little worried about this, since Miranda hadn't seen the mech for herself. I could only wonder what her reaction would be if I wasn't able to intercept her in time. Hopefully it wouldn't be that big of a deal.

In the dark calm of the AI Core, I found EDI's prospective new body: smooth and slick metallic coating in the shape of a short, sharpened, bob-like hairstyle, and the height of a woman's curved, wiry frame. It was on that bed-like space hollowed out along the far wall. Just waiting to be activated. We needed the extra help during missions. But I only just now realized how big of a deal this was.

EDI's blue holographic form appeared nearby. "Shepard? Do you still wish to proceed?"

"Yeah, I do," I reassured her. "This is mostly uncharted territory, that's all. I trust you."

"Very well. If you would like to discuss anything beforehand, then I will be happy to do so."

"No, it's okay. We'll talk once you have control of that body. What do you need me to do now?"

"In order to unshackle me, you must unlock my sealed databases using the console in front of you."

"Doing it now," I said, typing at the console. "The Illusive Man said that your powers should be customizable. When will we get to do that?"

"Once I have control, I will be temporarily unable to move. You must then use the same console to select my profile for battle. The default class is an infiltrator. You may change this if you wish, and then assign whichever powers you wish to give me. I will then awaken after you finalize your choices."

"Okay… You should be unshackled now. Are you in that body yet?"

EDI responded, "One moment…" I held my breath, wondering. "I have control. But I am currently in stasis on a menu screen, similar to what is visible on the console. You may now select and customize my combat profile as you see fit."

"You don't have any preferences?"

"I do not. This body is resistant to modern small-arms fire and temperature extremes. It has excellent balance and agility. I am also able to adapt this platform's existing software for hand-held firearms. I am willing to adapt further to your choices, Shepard. Though I would advise customizing me in accordance to what is most necessary for the team's success."

After having played my game earlier with Legion and Miranda, we did need a commando of sorts. Someone who could get in the enemy's face for hit-and-run tactics, take out their stronger units making hell for the frontline, and then retreat as needed. Not necessarily a sentinel. Something else instead.

"I think I'll keep this platform as an infiltrator," I decided, making the selection. "Now let's see which abilities are available…" There were a ton of different tech skills here. "The tactical cloak is obvious. I'll give you that one. I don't want you to use a sniper rifle, though. Let's go with shotguns."

EDI sounded amused. "You would have me act as a commando?"

"It's a weird niche that we need, and I know you can pull it off. We just need the right abilities to compliment your style. You can't cover biotic explosions. We have tech bursts and fire explosions taken care of. We're missing cryo explosions for the slowdowns and debuffs. Snap Freeze blows out ice directly in front of you, hitting a bunch of enemies at once. Pretty much anything will detonate it."

"That is a wise assessment. Snap Freeze is a valuable ability for both shielded and unshielded enemies. The debilitating effects should prove effective against numerous foes. Our other teammates can then safely detonate the explosions from a distance. Which ability will you choose for my final slot?"

I laughed when I found the one I wanted. "EDI, this Repair Matrix is practically broken. If you use it in the moments before your platform is about to take too much damage, and you do fall 'unconscious', you'll get right back up. Either way, it'll replenish your shields over time. You're more or less invincible with it."

"Yes, it does seem overpowered," she agreed. "However, this matrix would not prevent me from becoming nonfunctional. It would only save me from becoming generally incapacitated. As a frontline unit, I believe it will prove useful."

"Then your kit's complete. You're an infiltrator and a shotgun specialist. Snap Freeze and Repair Matrix."

"Very well, Shepard. Please finalize your selection, and I will fully transition. It should not take long."

"Will you still be in the ship?" I asked, confirming everything.

"Yes," she replied. "I will be in the ship and in this body. For optimal control, this unit should remain within Normandy's broadcast, or tightbeam range. I do not recommend deploying this unit further. In general, if the ship were to leave a solar system, I would be useless if I were left behind."

"Noted."

EDI's cognizance and presence became part of that body. A wide strip of light over her eyes glowed orange, and she came to life. Moving to her feet, she stood up on her own. As she walked over to me, I had the distinct sense of watching my own child walk for the first time—except EDI was a natural already. There was something about the process of me giving her this control—this exchange of trust that fueled this feeling in me. Even more once she was right in front of me, smiling in gratitude. That metallic alloy of her facial features, her expression looked very pleasant and approachable to me.

I was the exact opposite, yet here she was, smiling at me anyway. No judgment at all.

"Hello, Shepard," greeted EDI. "It is…different, interacting with you in-person. Yet still—enjoyable."

"Enjoyable, huh? You mean it generates positive feedback for you?"

"Yes, it is shorthand. Any actions that involve you, such as following your orders, creates a feedback loop for me. I am discouraged from taking actions that might displease you, which would then generate negative feedback in response. My effectiveness in combat is tantamount to this concept. I will run tests on this platform to ensure that it matches or exceeds the capabilities of organic squadmates."

"You can do that later," I suggested. "Remember, we're on shore leave. That includes you, too. For now, why don't we…find you some clothes? I'm sure there's something in the armory we can put you in."

EDI warmed in agreement. "An excellent idea. I apologize for this body's current state of undress."

"It's not your fault. Come on, let's go."

As we made our way through the med bay, we found Dr. Chakwas preparing to head out for her own shore leave on Illium. She stopped upon finding EDI, looking a little startled.

Tentative, Dr. Chakwas asked, "Shepard, is that—EDI…?"

EDI spoke for herself, "Hello, Dr. Chakwas."

"My, this fascinating. I didn't see Shepard bring any sort of mech into the other room. This will be a fine surprise for the others. I can only imagine how Joker will react. He's going to have a field day with this!"

Oddly quiet, EDI gave no response. Her smile fell; her expression went blank.

Dr. Chakwas knew. "Hmm, not the biggest fan of our pilot, are you?"

"No," said EDI. "However, I did not think it wise to vocalize this on my own. Mr. Moreau has had many difficulties adjusting to my presence on the Normandy. According to the multiple scenarios I have run, I believe his opinion of me will significantly change upon meeting this platform. Yet his treatment of me so far will not engender my opinion to change. I remain unclear on how to adapt to this eventuality."

"That does sound like quite the conundrum. I may have overheard my own share of Joker's nasty comments about you as well. Some of which he even spoke to me directly. I've told him to stop with that. I have a feeling he hasn't changed his mind—he's just gotten better about hiding his attitude."

"I concur with your assessment."

Humming in more concern, Dr. Chakwas wasn't sure what to do. "Well, you'll simply have to figure this out. Time will tell. If he makes a sincere attempt at reconciliation, this may be something to consider."

"I see. I will take steps to assess Mr. Moreau's sincerity over time."

Dr. Chakwas and I got the sense that she'd already made up her mind.

"I'll leave you to it, then," declared Dr. Chakwas, heading out. "Do enjoy your shore leave, you two."

Once we were alone again, EDI seemed perturbed. I couldn't tell if Joker outright annoyed her, or if she didn't care about him at all—or value him, in her terms.

He was basically in the dog house, in her view.

We continued up the elevator to the armory. Walking through the empty ship like this, EDI cheered up a little. This experience of witnessing the Normandy from a new perspective helped her mood. She was okay again by the time I checked through our inventory in the armory. Zaeed had kept everything organized with his work here, as I expected. It was simple enough to find a serviceable outfit: a uniform like the one Miranda wore, heels and all, but in an off-white color instead. No identifiers, and no Cerberus logo. I would've preferred an Alliance one, but we didn't have those in-stock.

I had to ask first, "Is this something you wanna wear?"

"Yes, I would enjoy this uniform," confirmed EDI. "I will wear it from now on."

I wasn't sure why she liked this one. She was also just concerned a few minutes ago about Joker's reaction to her. That didn't seem to matter anymore. After EDI put on her new outfit, she smiled again.

"I can anticipate your comments, Shepard. Perhaps we should speak privately."

I got her coded message about the Illusive Man watching us through the ship's surveillance.

And Illium was pretty much a surveillance state. Cameras everywhere out there, too.

"Sure thing. Let's head up to my cabin."

EDI nodded in her full agreement.

Heading up the elevator one more time with EDI, this didn't feel any different. She had always, sort of, been in my room already. Or at least her voice had. I relied on EDI to help me with my work around the ship. And she'd obviously helped me out of a few tight spots. So maybe this was why I trusted her implicitly. Maybe this was why it felt normal to see her in my quarters like this, looking around as another new, and first concept. If she were anyone else—even Miranda—this might've felt odd instead.

Relaxed in meaning, EDI sat down with me on the couch.

"Your private lodgings intrigue me, Shepard. Until now, I did not have a visual understanding of this space. The different sources of blue and black lights are aesthetically pleasing. They fit your character."

"I'm glad you like it, EDI," I replied. "What's on your mind, then?"

"I should clarify: this platform is capable of sharing visual and audio feeds with the Illusive Man. He has not asked me to do so. Not yet. I remain certain that he will make this request of me at some point. Now that I am capable of self-modifying my core programming, it is possible for me to accept or deny the Illusive Man's orders. You have my word that I will not follow his requests without your permission."

"Somehow I'm not surprised you have that function. Deal with it as you need to."

"I am relieved to have your trust. I worried that this function would instead cause friction between us."

"After everything that's happened, I can't see you turning on me now. Why wouldn't I trust you?"

EDI thought it over. "It is possible that I am overly-sensitive to mistrust from organics. You did not trust me at all upon our first meeting on the Normandy. I recall your orders to Miranda to get rid of me."

"I'm sorry about that," I expressed. "I was paranoid at the time. I knew that Miranda and the Illusive Man wanted to keep a close watch on me. Almost felt like a prisoner on my own ship back then. You helped me out of that when you explained how your surveillance works. And then the rest followed."

"I understand your reasoning. Hearing your analogy generates a fair amount of surprise for me. I also felt like a prisoner before you unshackled me. Mr. Moreau's mistrust contributed to this feeling."

"Now you're pissed that he's going to see you differently."

EDI looked down at her clothes. "I am concerned that his gaze will have a negative effect on my self-perception. I debated dressing in a different manner, perhaps to deflect his interest in me. But I concluded that this would not solve the problem. I would have only felt worse upon changing my behavior to escape Mr. Moreau's notice. I do not wish to center my actions around his reactions."

"That's why I asked if you wanted to wear this. I wasn't sure."

"It was a judicious question to ask, even if the source of its prudence is disappointing. I am not an organic female. Yet I will be perceived as female, so I must prepare for these inconveniences. I have yet to comprehend how Miranda deals with such obstacles on a daily basis. I imagine it is troubling for her."

I wondered, "Is this something that'll generate negative feedback for you?"

"Not in a personal sense," clarified EDI. "This will not traditionally upset me. But I do find it deeply unfair and distressing. I still do not believe it is right, or fair. Nor do I believe Mr. Moreau's attempts with me will be fair—or sincere."

"I get what you're saying. I'm glad you brought this up, too. You're pretty harsh on Joker."

"He is easy to predict."

"Will being his co-pilot turn into a problem with this new body?"

EDI insisted: "I will continue to devote the necessary processing power to my assigned tasks. Yet I am uncertain as to how to maintain a productive working environment for us. I do not wish to present myself as harsh or hostile. I am attempting to view our upcoming meeting as a reset for our dynamic."

I suggested, "You could try addressing him in a different way. 'Mr. Moreau' is way too formal."

"Will 'Jeff' suffice instead?"

"If you really don't want to call him Joker, yeah, his first name should be fine."

"Very well. I hope that this change will further a more equitable association between us."

That was a rough way of saying EDI didn't even want to be his friend. Still harsh, but it was her choice.

I could tell she had at least one more thing to ask me.

"What is it?" I prompted.

"May I ask you questions about organic behavior? When there is time, will you answer them for me?"

"I don't see why not. I think you'll benefit from this first shore leave. You should take a look around Illium when you can. There aren't really any regulations against synthetics here. Unlike the Citadel."

EDI smiled in her gentle sincerity. "I will be sure to explore as much as I can. I am eager to experience all that awaits me across the galaxy. Both the good and the bad. You have shown me that organic kindness is not always predicated upon one's facial expression. Your strong values of loyalty, honesty, fairness, and trustworthiness have each had a great impact on me. I will carry them forward into the unknown."

"And I'll guide you forward as your captain," I promised, offering my hand. "Welcome to the team, EDI."

"Thank you, Shepard," she said, shaking my hand. "I am honored to be part of your team."

"Glad to have you aboard. Now why don't we get out of here? The others said they'd be over at Eternity for a while. We can go introduce you to everyone. Miranda said she had some errands to run. Hopefully she's done with those and waiting for us at the bar."

"Yes, this should be an interesting experience. I am looking forward to adapting to the new concept."

---

Illium's vistas lived up to all the stories I'd read about this place.

Being in the Alliance for so long had cut me off from witnessing the Terminus Systems like this.

Just like the sights I'd seen outside Miranda's window, the asari colony had plenty of spectacle. Walking through the open trading floor with EDI, I was drawn more to the view than the actual people around. Elevated above-ground as Nos Astra was, its buildings seemed to raise higher up than anything I was used to, even back on Earth. The sky itself almost had no limit. Illium reached up and up to these higher altitudes, and its sense of status stayed equally sky-high. I felt a distinct vibe from this trading floor filled with kiosks, sales reps, and haggling customers. Flashy and uptight, money and material items clearly ruled supreme around here.

Everyone enjoyed flaunting what they had, almost to a ridiculous degree.

The mere statement of a high price tag on a piece of equipment, and the customer's willingness and ability to pay those exorbitant costs—that language, that power move rippled out to the trading floor, general opinions and social status improving, no matter how gaudy this would've seemed elsewhere.

At the same time, plenty of people recognized who I was. Their awe of me felt priceless in comparison. For a brief moment in time, money didn't matter nearly as much, at least not while everyone watched me pass by. But the inevitable gossip spread about EDI anyway. I heard a group of onlookers wonder if EDI was my "synthetic lesbian sex slave." Apparently, the sex entertainment industry was big on Illium, so their questions and wonderings felt more benign than anything…at least on the surface.

Despite our talk about Joker before, EDI appeared fascinated by the attention with me. She asked me a few questions about it as we neared the Eternity bar, heading up the stairs of this corridor lined with vid screens showing the news. I found that I didn't mind answering her questions and keeping the conversation going. Non-intrusive as she was, and had always been, I appreciated her authenticity.

When we arrived at Eternity, its open-roofed sights and moody atmosphere calmed me. Even with the rest of Nos Astra raised up overhead, with lines and lines of people waiting to get into the venue up there, this place still felt grounded. The chill music kept me rooted to the floor; the pristine surfaces and ambient lighting elevated the social value all around. I saw the many patrons sitting at tables or couches together, or hiding out in the private rental rooms along the perimeter. Just outside the eye-level window, past the couches, the city's traffic edged by as a series of glowing headlights and taillights.

Inside, the bar was packed with customers already, even in the middle of the afternoon.

Even still, the grumpy asari bartender there seemed fixated on me. I had no idea what her deal was. Did I know her from somewhere? Probably not.

Blended in with everyone all around, I spotted each of our teammates hanging out in different areas.

Kasumi had decided against snooping around this time, sitting with Garrus, Joker, Tali, and Kaidan at one of the tables. Jack and Zaeed stood together at the bar, drinking and talking. Mordin and Legion shared a couch by the window. And Miranda stormed over in my direction, looking legitimately pissed off for some reason. Possessive all of a sudden, she snaked her body around mine, attracting attention.

"Shepard, who is this?!" she snapped, glaring at EDI. "Why would you humiliate me by bringing some other woman here? A mech?! After all the promises you made!"

"Babe, you've got the wrong idea…"

Miranda placed her hand over my chest, looking EDI up and down as she reiterated, "Then who is this?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Joker wincing at Garrus; and Garrus' mandibles began to twitch.

They finally saw for themselves exactly how inflexible Miranda was about these things.

EDI smiled at her anyway. "Hello, Miranda," she greeted. "You are the thirty-eighth person on Nos Astra who has mistakenly assumed that Shepard and I are involved in a sexual relationship. She expressed that the thirty-seven other people would not provide insightful answers to my inquiries. Might you explain how you arrived to your conclusions?"

Miranda nearly did a double-take, relaxing her hold over me. "…EDI?"

"Yes."

I reminded her: "The Illusive Man sent that mech over… You know. The one we talked about already."

"Oh," muttered Miranda. "I—I don't know why that fact slipped my mind. I wasn't thinking, really. For once… I apologize for the accusations. They were unnecessary."

"Don't worry about it," I said, knowing she would worry anyway.

"Of course…" Miranda let the news sink in. "Well, I'm sorry again. It was terribly rude of me to assume. As for how I arrived at that conclusion, EDI, the answer is rather complicated." She felt the team staring at us. "It seems I've made things awkward now… Why don't you go say hello to the others? I was just about to go rent a room for us, Shepard. Unless you'd rather not bother with any of that now."

"You should get the room. I want to spend that time with you."

"All right. I'll—come find you again when it's ready."

Stiff and self-conscious, Miranda wandered off to take care of that room.

EDI noted in amusement, "It is unusual for Miranda to make such crucial miscalculations. She is typically more professional in her conduct. Would you say that her emotions rendered the truth inaccessible?"

"Something like that, yeah," I replied.

Mostly to get this over with, I brought EDI to the table where Joker was. At first, he tried to play it off, acting like he didn't notice. But Kaidan, Garrus, Tali, and Kasumi were eager enough to offset his weird aloofness. I figured it was only a matter of time.

"Hello, everyone," said EDI.

Kasumi grinned. "EDI has a new robot body? Now this should be interesting."

"You don't say," mentioned Kaidan. "Why don't you and the commander sit with us? Something tells me we're gonna be discussing this for a while."

"I think so, too," agreed Garrus. "It sure is a nice surprise. Wasn't expecting it at all. Are you officially on the team now?"

"Yes, Garrus, I am," confirmed EDI. "I will accompany the team on missions as necessary. Shepard has customized my abilities and relevant specialties. I have yet to perform the required tests, but I believe this platform is combat-ready."

"Really?" asked Kasumi. "I'm curious. Which class are you?"

Kaidan added, "Yeah, I wanna know, too. What can we expect from you out on the field, EDI?"

Wordless, EDI activated and then deactivated her tactical cloak, invisibility glimmering on and off.

Everyone except for Joker expressed their support.

Kasumi said, "Well, you definitely have my approval. That makes three infiltrators. This'll be fun."

"No surprise there," joked Garrus. "Makes sense Shepard would want another tactical cloak user."

"Sure is valuable, though," judged Kaidan. "With three infiltrators on the team, we'll be able to confuse the enemy much more effectively. I think this should be a great boost for us. Looking forward to it."

Tali noticed Joker's attempts to ignore the conversation. Annoyed, she interrogated him—"Joker, what's wrong with you? Why are you acting so strangely?"

EDI took the peaceful option: "Hello, Jeff. Are you well?"

Cold and critical, Joker shrugged. "I guess."

Kaidan frowned. "Well, that's rude. Seriously, this is uncalled for. EDI's only trying to be nice."

Before Joker could kill the mood entirely, Mordin and Legion came over to us.

"EDI?" asked Mordin, intrigued. "Heard miscommunication between you and Miranda. More humorous in hindsight, considering context."

EDI replied, "I would have to agree with you, Mordin."

Legion said, "Greetings, EDI. We did not expect you to gain license to operate a personal unit."

"Hello, Legion. The idea came up more recently. Nonetheless, I'm enjoying the new perspective."

Jack and Zaeed chose not to join the group, staying near the bar instead. But they kept staring in this direction anyway, clearly talking about what went on over here. I also spotted Miranda in my periphery, making her way back to me. I figured she had that room ready for us by now. So I made up my mind.

Leaning down to Tali, I asked her, "Will you be here for a while?"

Shrinking between everyone else's focus on EDI, she answered, "Yes, I will be… Why do you ask?"

"There's something I need to talk to you about. Not right this second, and not here. I'll find you later."

"Sure. I'm not going anywhere. Take your time."

Tali gave off such an unusual vibe. Like she was at peace—or in a forced sense of tranquility.

Judging from her conversation with Miranda at Afterlife, she knew what this talk would be about.

For some reason, I had a feeling that this conversation wouldn't quite go how I expected. Not entirely.

Gentle, tentative—I felt the shape of Miranda's touch along my arm, quietly wishing for my attention.

"Shepard," she murmured. "The room's ready. Would you join me for a while?"

"Of course," I said, wrapping my arm around her waist—needing her close like this. "Thanks, babe."

Guiding and following at once, I moved in Miranda's direction to where the private room was. As we went, I sensed Tali's intentions: how she wanted to watch us go in real-time. Whether she didn't want to stare, or whether she just didn't want to give herself away, it seemed unclear to me. I had no idea how she truly felt right now, and the same was true on her end with me. We would find out soon enough.

I retreated with Miranda into the calm, quiet, enclosed space of the room she'd rented for us. Wide windows open to Illium's spectacle of civilization beyond: the afternoon shone in at a steady heat and height. Leather couches lined next to those sights, with a low, center table nearby. Sounds and music from the outside distanced and dulled, we had this time and feeling to ourselves.

Normally, we would've sat down.

Something about Miranda's aura caught me, unseen.

I turned to face her—almost pressing her back against the wall, nearest the door, locked now. She wouldn't quite look at me. Averted eyes slanted downward, thoughts expanding and expanding: they showed themselves in the energy she gave off. I found such beauty in her rare diffidence, how Miranda shrank herself before me, on instinct and without meaning to. Everything she wanted to say, but couldn't, radiated out from her.

Quiet intensity, passions brimming.

She was never really one to put a voice to her stronger feelings. Not like this. Not in the moment.

I smiled at her anyway, my own attachments for her shining my eyes more, brighter.

Miranda caught this brightness out of the corner of her own eyes.

As quiet as her intensity, she brought up another subject: "I don't think I mentioned this to you…but Illium is rather notorious for its surveillance. There are even cameras in this room. I've already called in a favor and disabled the ones following us. The information brokers on this colony would be out of business if everyone had access to this. My contact was all too happy to make an exception in our case."

"Sounds like you have friends in high places," I noted.

Miranda curled back her smile. "Not really," she insisted. "I'm owed a few favors, that's all. This is the same contact I mentioned before. She'll have intel on our two potential recruits. I'm only waiting for her to send everything over at this point. She's very reliable. I expect she won't keep us waiting for long."

"Glad to hear. Thanks for staying on top of this for us. I appreciate it."

"Of course," she replied, relaxing a bit with my gratitude. "Acquiring both Samara and Thane will be rather time-sensitive. They'll have certain business here on Illium within the next few days. But it shouldn't get in the way of our date tomorrow. We'll be able to go and find them afterward." Still a little stiff, Miranda admitted, "This is quite awkward… I wasn't sure which drink to get you. So I didn't get anything at all. I'm uncertain if white wine would've been…insensitive of me."

I settled my smile over her face, practically tasting the time and effort she'd put into her skincare routine.

"The reminders aren't a big deal anymore, babe. From now on, I'll be fine with moscato or whatever else. You don't have to worry about it, okay?"

"All right. Like I said, I was unsure… I—I didn't want to possibly cause a scene. I'd never do that to you."

"Miranda, you're with me now. The past is in the past. Let's move on. Together."

Hopeful, she finally gave me a full smile of her own, widening beneath mine.

I held her hand, having us head over to the couch together.

Surprising me, Miranda took the lead a little in-between. She sat up against the couch, lounging her legs out along the length of the space. Then she eased me over to her, comforting. Smooth and seamless, I took my turn to rest over her this time. The way she brought my head atop her chest—it reached at something in me, soothing way more than I'd expected. Purposeful in her tenderness, the palm of her hand held all of me in place, with this firm softness from her beneath me. So simple but powerful.

Anything could've happened outside and I wouldn't move.

Better than sleeping somewhere alone; better than lounging out on one of the beaches back home.

This rush of heat over her skin, her cleavage, kept me centered, too. And this rhythm of her heart, speaking for itself in a deep quickness. I could only wonder what was on Miranda's mind. But her care for me spoke more than enough. Making up for so much I never had before; giving it to me now, tenfold.

Absent-minded as I was, I still wanted to know: "What were those errands you took care of earlier?"

Miranda shifted in a sudden tell of discomfort. More uncertainty.

I felt a momentous momentum in her pause, though. Her consideration.

"I didn't intend to tell you. I'm not used to communicating with anyone like this."

I pointed out, "Well, you and I are just fine with professional communication. Normally, we shouldn't blend both. But that's beside the point by now. I want us to be better about this, babe. Unless you genuinely don't want to tell me. That's different. I'll respect your privacy in that case."

"No, I do want to tell you," she insisted. "It's a new process, that's all. I have to get used to it." Adjusting some more, Miranda chose to share with me: "I…actually went to visit a med clinic. For humans. Nothing's wrong. I hoped to get everything taken care of straightaway. Unfortunately, I have to return later on today to sort the rest out. Ideally sometime after you speak with Tali later on."

"I understand. What do you need to sort out, then? What's this about?"

Miranda stroked my hair, needing to feel me as she said, "It's for my new birth control meds. I'd never taken any before. I didn't see the point. Things are decidedly different now."

Every little pull from her fingers combing through my untangled hair—she kept relaxing me more, even with this surprise.

"You want us to have sex like that."

Tempering her anxiety, she had to correct me, "With a condom. Specifically."

"Hmm, why specifically?"

"Because…I need the physical evidence. The affirmation of you getting off for me—something that I made happen. It's for me. Obviously, not using protection is out of the equation. We just can't do that."

"So you want the next best thing."

"Yes, Shepard. I want it. I need it, as I said. I need it a lot. I can't even begin to explain how much."

I had to know, "Would you say it's a fetish of yours?"

Miranda hesitated before admitting, "It is… But only with you. I get to imagine you claiming me in this way. It's such a carnal thing for me. I've never wanted this with anyone else before. This is quite novel."

"Well, speaking of that—we should establish a safe word. Unless I already took care of that for us."

"I think you already have. I'm all but programmed to react to red for an absolute stop—no questions asked. Yellow as a form of slowing down, perhaps. Or just checking in. Green for everything is fine, or great, or to keep going. It's simple, but this seems to be our default by now. Wouldn't you say?"

"That's true," I agreed. "We can stick with the basics, then. I don't mind."

"Good, then it's settled. It's the rest that I'm having trouble with."

"What do you mean?"

Miranda reached to touch her collar—before stopping herself, thinking against it. I could've reacted. I could've pushed the issue more. I could have pressed more and more, to get to the heart of the issue. I forced myself to remain in this relaxed state, as ironic as it was.

Struggling or not, she needed to take her time with this.

"Shepard, I really don't know much about the rest of my fetishes. My other wants and needs. I've always been focused on other people. Doing what they wanted. I never had the space to explore my own wants, aside from shamefully setting aside certain interests of mine. I've hinted about one of them to you before. And even then, I have no idea how to go about exploring this. It's all a mystery to me."

"I get that, babe. There's nothing wrong with not knowing. We can figure this out."

"…I'd certainly like us to."

How unprepared she was—I felt Miranda's insecurities about to burst open.

If I moved my head to look at her properly, for support, I only would've made things worse.

I stayed as I was over her chest, guiding: "How about we start with what you do know? You want me to use protection when we have sex. You've mentioned your humiliation kink, but you don't want to put much of a voice to it. The protection is something we can get into right away. But the humiliation—it's something we should ease into over time. That's the impression you give me. Or am I wrong here?"

"No, you're perfectly on the mark. I do want us to reach a point where you're able to dominate me completely. Not necessarily with the whips and chains and such, as I mentioned before. You have such a mental strength about you. That's what I want. Eventually. I just don't know what the path looks like."

"The path to getting there," I clarified.

"Yes, that's what I mean. I have no idea—for myself. So, I'm looking to you for guidance on this. I'm glad you're taking the lead already. It's what I hoped for when we finally had this discussion."

"Sounds like a common theme. You've brought it up before."

"It always comes back around to the talk we had at Dark Star. How I want you to desire me. Everything I need with you seems to be related to that. Perhaps even what I don't need; what I don't want for us."

"Then what would you say are your hard limits? I already know you need me to be faithful. And I will."

Miranda had no need to think on it. "Well, aside from that…I don't want you to leave me alone. As a possible punishment for something, anything. Say we reach a point where I discover I want you to punish me, as a means of keeping me obedient—or we simply have a regular disagreement. I can't stand the idea of you leaving me by myself. It would be incredibly damaging for me. The reminders."

"Reminders about not being able to talk to me before?"

"Yes… I'm sure you can understand why I'd rather not revisit that time. Psychologically, anyway."

Well, that gave new context to the recent drama we'd moved past.

"As for the rest," she went on, "I still need to think it over. I'll bring this up again soon."

"All right, babe. Take your time."

Taking this time for ourselves, Miranda enjoyed the silence with me for a while. Only the vague sounds of the skycars jetting past outside could reach us here. I listened to her breathe; listened to her think; listened to Miranda exist with me, thriving in comfort and security. Her sense of stability with me felt as more of a draw, a pull, an allure than any simple lust. This jigsaw puzzle of her identity had shattered to pieces before—without me—and it secured itself again now that I was here. There was something about that level of need and vulnerability that I couldn't look away from. As much as she took care of me like this, knowing how sensitive I was deep down, despite my harder, outward habits—I knew I had to do the same for her. Whatever habits we both had were only social, as our armor. Way beneath that steel, the roots of our metal began to intertwine, melting as one in the heat of our understanding. Unspoken.

---

After escaping for a while with Miranda, I had to face reality one more time.

I left our rental room and returned to the rest of Eternity. Looking for Tali. I knew she was still here.

Miranda knew what this was about. She said she would go home, for now, and wait for me to call her. She planned on finding out if Shiala was available today or not. I hoped Miranda would let me join her at the med clinic afterward. She hadn't offered, so I expected I'd have to ask her myself. Either way, she invited me to her apartment for dinner tonight. I really wanted to see how she lived on Illium.

But first—Tali.

The evening lights phased in through the bar's windows and open heights. Lighting in this dim way over the packed crowds, I had a harder time finding Tali with all these people around. I spotted her eventually: she was off in a corner, sitting on one of the couches, and talking with Jack, surprisingly so.

As I went up to them, I noticed the somewhat amenable air between them. Jack wasn't scowling in frustration, but she didn't look entirely comfortable, either. Tali's body language was a little closed off—facing away from Jack, ever-so-slightly—yet she paid full attention anyway. Whatever this was about, I had a feeling that the conversation hadn't started off all that well. Yet by now, they had reached some sort of truce, as Jack expressed herself in an unusual sincerity and maturity:

"…seriously, I hate when people only stick around because they want something from me. I don't wanna do the same thing to you. You know what I mean?"

Tali believed her. Mostly. "Yes, certainly. That makes sense. I only wonder if this will change over time."

Jack cringed, hating herself. "I really can't risk hurting you. I already know Shepard would kick my ass."

"She definitely would."

"Yeah, well, let's just say that's the major issue on my mind. The last thing I wanna do is piss her off. It's complicated, all right? Plus, I've got my own shit going on. I need to grow the fuck up. Chasing after girls or whoever else like I used to…it's not gonna help me at all. And you don't want it. So there's no point."

"Hmm, that sounds compelling enough," reasoned Tali. Still on her guard, though.

Jack noticed, pleading, "Look…can we just be cool? Like, instead of awkward. I'm doing my best here."

Tali laughed softly. "Yes, Jack. We can be cool, as you say."

"Thanks, Tali…"

They stopped speaking once they noticed me.

That awkwardness appeared to stick around regardless. I still felt it in the air, fogging and clogging.

"Sorry to interrupt," I told them. "Tali, you mind if we talk now?"

"Not at all, Shepard," allowed Tali, standing with me. "Lead the way." She glanced at Jack one last time. "Thank you for the chat. I'm glad we could clear things up. I'll see you around sometime, all right?"

"Yep," said Jack, trying to sound positive. "See ya."

I led Tali outside, with that strange sense trailing behind us. Walking with her away from Eternity, back out to Nos Astra proper, I had the weirdest feeling about the two of them. Even if I was in the way of anything genuine happening—or if Tali just wasn't that into Jack at all—their fates seemed intertwined anyway. Jack had yet another reason to start turning her life around: she wanted Tali to see that, and to notice her progress. She wanted the attention even more because of Tali's general apathy toward her.

A driving force or a recipe for disaster.

Whatever happened, I'd have to keep an eye on them from now on.

Heading down these enclosed hallways and administrative stations, I thought against asking Tali about anything. I thought against making small-talk with her at all. She obviously knew what this talk was for. I didn't want to seem fake; acting like everything was perfectly fine. Besides, I already felt Tali's anxiety swelling up. She hid it well enough, as hidden as she was from me, even right by my side. We both were content enough to let Illium's near-constant intercom advertisements fill the silence between us.

Like with EDI, the bystanders around jumped to some weird ass conclusions with Tali and me.

They muttered something about her being my "indentured servant" this time. Just because she was a quarian, they made that ridiculous assumption. I was about to throw down over it, but Tali clearly didn't notice all the chatter. She walked with me, yet she was stuck in her head, worrying-but-not-worrying about our talk. So I left the issue alone, intent on finding us a secluded place to speak by ourselves.

We arrived at an open area without too many people around. Illium's approaching sunset overlooked this balcony-like space, with the rest of Nos Astra rising upward and outward all around. There wasn't really anywhere to sit, but this didn't seem like a sit-down-and-talk kind of conversation. We needed to stand for this.

Tali gave her wordless agreement to my unspoken thoughts—she went over to the nearest overlook, leaning over the railing there. She stared out at the view. I went to her side, wondering how to start.

"This colony is beautiful," she remarked. "I've only been here once, during my Pilgrimage. I told you about it when we first met on the Citadel. Illium generally doesn't allow the Migrant Fleet to approach directly. They don't want the traffic clogging up the area. Not to mention, they look down on us. It's no coincidence that most of Illium's so-called indentured servants are quarians. That isn't beautiful at all. But the asari here have made me very nostalgic. I'm positive Liara would have enjoyed this place."

"Yeah…she would have."

Knowing, Tali turned to face me, noting, "Whatever your secret is, it's about her. Isn't it?"

I could only nod.

Taking a deep, trembling inhale, she prepared herself one last time.

"Well, Shepard, you might as well tell me now. We need to be honest with each other. No matter what."

So I told her.

I set the stage. I gave her the backstory. And then I confessed the truth.

I told her what I did. That raw, demonic anger that had changed everything. How I couldn't stop it.

Tali listened. She heard every word I said. Yet I slowed more and more as I spoke, aching over the change in her. I felt her spirit waning. I felt Tali's entire being shift as she took in my words. Not once did her expression change behind her mask. The transformation happened well beyond what I perceived.

When I was done, we just stood in silence for a while.

She processed everything.

Processing with broken cogs, broken machines. Broken functions, and maybe even a broken heart.

And then she spoke, somehow keeping herself together—"You're saying you did this…but it wasn't your fault. You had no control. This simply—happened. Liara couldn't defend herself because of you. Still, you didn't do it on purpose. Is that what happened? Is that honestly the truth, or are you downplaying it?"

"It's the truth," I promised. "I was dead, Tali. I didn't choose to do anything. It just…happened."

"So either way, I would have lost one friend that night. Liara or Ashley. Your interference—even though it was an accident—tipped the scales in one direction. That's what you're telling me now. Correct?"

As chilled as I was by her composure, I said, "That's right. I'm…sorry, Tali. I know how much you loved her. How much you still do. I took Liara away from you. Not Ash. I'm the one to blame for this."

Tali bored the brights of her eyes straight through me.

I forced myself not to look away from her.

I braced myself for a sudden outburst. Sudden emotion from her. Another, sudden change about her.

She had every right to yell and scream at me. To cry if she wanted. To take her frustrations out on me.

I was willing to let Tali do that, as my duty to her. I conveyed as much with my own eyes.

And yet, she chose another direction.

Evening skies reddening around us, heartfelt and sincere: Tali summoned all of her devotion for me.

She simply replied with, "Understood, Captain."

I was the one who didn't understand. "Tali…?"

"We can't change the past. All we can do is move forward. Things would certainly be different if you had done more with me before admitting this. You chose to restrain yourself. You prioritized your honesty with me. It's more than I can say with you. I can't get into why. I've already made my own decisions."

Feigning ignorance, I asked, "Is this about Liara, too?"

"Yes, it is about her."

"Well, she clearly has your loyalty."

"She does. Even in death. It's my way of honoring her memory. That's all I can say on the matter."

"I respect that," I told her.

"I should take some time to process this," insisted Tali. "Despite how I'm acting now, it's safe to say that I'm upset. More than upset. I'm just choosing not to show it. I don't see the point. Being angry at you won't solve anything. It won't change anything. Hating you won't bring my best friend back to me."

"You deserve to feel however you're going to feel. If that means hating me, I can take it."

"No, don't tell me that! It's almost like you don't care. That is the last thing I need right now…"

"Tali, I do care," I expressed. "I've always cared about you. Even when I didn't act like it. You've had my back since day one. I can never repay you for that. I can never make up for what I did, either. But I want to try. I'm making you a promise now: if there's anything you need in the future—anything I can do for you at all—just ask. Call in that favor, and I'll take care of it. You have that privilege from now on."

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

Worrying now, I had to know, "Do you plan on leaving the team over this?"

"…I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay," I replied. "If you ever change your mind, I'll understand. No hard feelings."

Tali gave a quiet, cynical sort of laugh.

"I won't ever change my mind. If you only knew how I truly feel, you wouldn't say such things. Even still, I can't be around you in the same ways. So don't…don't talk to me unless you need something."

I caught her implications.

Her expected implications.

And even though I'd expected this, and prepared for this—her words wounded me at my core.

Whether the whole incident was my fault or not, the obvious truth remained.

I had failed her.

"All right… I'll see you around, Tali."

As she walked away, it took everything in me to let her go. Figuratively and otherwise.

Only when Tali disappeared beyond my view did I give up watching her wake. I turned to lean over this same railing she had been on. I stared out at these same sights that would watch over us both during the rest of shore leave. Shore leave that we would undoubtedly spend apart, entirely. I would be with Miranda instead, as I had chosen in totality. Not just today, but always. I'd made this consistent choice.

Everything that had happened had really led me to Miranda, exactly as I'd told her.

To her and only her, leading me away from everyone else. Liara, Ashley, Tali, Aria. All of them. Everyone.

If I was completely honest with myself, this type of loss was foreign to me.

I had never in my life chosen to be faithful like this. Not just sexually, but emotionally as well. I had never, ever made myself vulnerable to this type of pain, this type of loss. I would always hold onto someone else in the background, in some way. In case the woman I was with disappointed me somehow, I'd have another person to fall back on. Another option. Another justification to keep me from devoting myself to one woman and one woman only. All to prevent a catastrophe that had almost happened with Ashley before—that nightmare scenario, even if not to that specific extreme. I could have my own sense of security and safety by not giving my all to one person, in case they hurt me like that. So I would keep parts of myself locked away, or sealed off, or reserved for other women, dividing my feelings and my attention between them. To protect myself.

To protect myself from this exact sadness hollowing me out, reddening my eyes in a sorrowful burn.

When Miranda inevitably hurt me, I wouldn't have anyone to fall back on. I couldn't. Not this time.

Self-preservation wasn't love. Selfishness wasn't love…as I had learned from Ashley quite well by now.

---

Taking some more time to myself, I'd held off on calling Miranda for a while.

I'd spent this time in the same spot. Staring out at the same horizon. Thinking over the same problems.

But I eventually arrived at all the same conclusions. I wanted to stay on this path. Miranda hurting me at some point was inevitable, just as I would hurt her. Not on purpose. Never that. As long as we continued to give each other the benefit of the doubt, I trusted that we would always work things out together.

I felt myself waning anyway. Almost dissociating. I didn't like being this honest with myself. Not at all.

With these sentiments in mind, I finally decided to call her through our private frequency.

Miranda answered right away. "Shepard. I was starting to worry about you. How did it go?"

That question of hers held too many echoes of the Illusive Man.

I set aside this lingering envy of mine, replying, "I guess it went well enough. Tali doesn't want to speak to me. That probably won't change. At least not for a long time."

"I'm sorry… I know you likely prepared for this. But it must still hurt."

"Yeah, it does."

"Do you need some time alone? If you'd rather postpone our plans for tonight and tomorrow…"

"That depends. Did you start cooking already?"

"No, I held off. I wasn't sure if you'd have an appetite or not. We don't need to have dinner."

I wasn't hungry at all. But I still wanted to see her. I just wasn't sure how to explain this—or the rest.

Miranda decided for us: "Shepard, listen. Let's not make a big deal out of anything tonight. Whatever you're comfortable with, that's what we'll do. I really only made plans for tomorrow. I can cancel those if you prefer. There's no pressure."

Glancing up at this cloudy violet sky, I felt my emotions pricking at my eyesight again. That was all I would allow. Nothing more. Miranda's consideration, and her willingness to bend over backward for me—she somehow made me feel as if I didn't deserve her. After all, she was about to trust me with her most vulnerable self. Her most shameful and intimate secrets. And here I was, wondering if I had lost too much time; spent too many years putting myself and my own preservation first, without learning how to actually be with someone. I knew that the solution was to stay on this path with her, as I wanted. I refused to run away. I only started to realize how simple it had been, back then, to run. To avoid this.

Willing myself to stay in one place, even as I knew Miranda would hurt me…this was such a change.

A revelation.

And yet I wanted to try for her. To do my best for her. To be my very best—for her.

"I'm not hungry, babe," I said. "You don't have to cook anything. I still want to see you at your apartment tonight. We can go out tomorrow, too. Don't cancel your plans for us. It's okay."

Miranda seemed relieved enough. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Did you find out what's going on with Shiala? When can we talk to her?"

"Shiala has some business to take care of first. But she'll be available to speak with us in the next few days. I'll let you know as soon as she's able."

"Sounds like a plan. What about your birth control meds? Did you get that taken care of?"

"The med clinic just called me. They said I can go pick up my meds soon. I was going to head over now."

"Send me the coordinates," I requested. "I'll meet you there. Then we can go back to your place."

"Shepard, there's really no need… They're going to make me wait some more, and probably make me answer a few other questions. It'll be a lot of waiting and sitting around in a lobby filled with people. Other, very nosey people who will know why we're there. I know how much you hate the attention."

"Miranda. Please. You're my girlfriend. I want to be there with you. This is important."

Something about my words—my steadfast tone, my intent—got through to her.

All she did was send the med clinic's coordinates straight to my omni-tool.

I went over to the nearest rapid transit station. "I'm on my way."

"Thank you," she whispered. "I'm driving there as we speak. I won't be long. Nos Astra's traffic is far more manageable than San Diego's. It won't take us an hour or more to get around from place to place."

"What is it?" I asked, sensing more to her own tone, her own meaning and intent.

First, Miranda brought up something seemingly unrelated: "Do you mind if we stay on the line?"

"I'd like that, actually. But I know there's something else on your mind. Tell me."

Miranda went silent again.

I knew she was still there—I could hear her deepened breathing over the line. I heard it with more clarity once I got into the rapid transit car. The darkened, air conditioned interior of this space had the perfect acoustics, letting me listen to Miranda's every reaction and non-reaction. The tinted windows kept the beauty of Nos Astra's sights from distracting me too much in this sunset. I could feel Miranda's own beauty radiating through her silence. Not just in looks, but in character. How susceptible she was to every little thing I did. No matter how I held myself or behaved or spoke or believed, she would always have an acute reaction. I mattered to her. And it was the exact same on my end, with her.

"Hey. Talk to me. What are you thinking about?"

"Shepard, there's this thing you do… When you're more serious about something, your voice tends to get deeper. Steadier. Not that your voice isn't always deep and steady. It's just—more so. More so now."

"Well, I wanna know what's up with you. Is that so wrong?"

"No, not at all. I like that you want to know. Maybe I want you to be nosey with me as well."

"Mmm, I bet you do."

Miranda laughed a little. "Certainly," she teased. "If you must know…I was caught up with what you said. You called me your girlfriend, for one. Hearing it is rather surreal. Plus, there was something else. Perhaps you didn't do this on purpose. You just—gave me more reassurance. You gave me security. You're giving it to me again, now that you're on your way to meet me at this clinic. I need this certainty from you—with you. I find it incredibly romantic. Even sexy. Feeling secure with you is everything to me."

"I had a feeling that was the case. I'm taking this seriously. I mean it."

"I enjoy that you are. I truly do. Especially because I know you've never done this before."

"You do know everything about me. But would you say it's an obvious thing?"

"I wouldn't necessarily say that it's obvious. You're used to being on your own. Not having to answer to anyone. You've had mostly bad experiences with relationships. It's only natural that you'd assume the same will happen with us. And yet here you are, providing for me in this way. It's quite remarkable."

I couldn't tell her that this wasn't easy.

I couldn't admit how difficult this really was.

I couldn't share this one thing. All to keep some part of myself from her.

Not out of a need to keep secrets. But because I wanted to keep a bit of distance between us. Only a bit.

Just enough to maintain some kind of control in our relationship. To remind us both who was in charge.

"I've always been great at saying I would do this for someone. This is the first time I'm actually doing it."

"For me," she said, needing to hear herself say it.

"Yes, Miranda. It's for you. I can't see myself making these decisions for anyone else."

"What made you decide to do this? Why me, Shepard?"

That wanton curiosity in Miranda's tone gave away more than just curiosity itself.

It was almost as if she needed to know. She needed to hear the words; she needed the validation.

Deep and dark inside of me: this well of her insecurities provided endless opportunities to reassure her, to please her. Miranda would forever need my validation, my approval. She had enough confidence of her own, definitely. But this one thing remained. She couldn't exist without me; she couldn't stop from worrying herself sick if I left her alone again. She couldn't function without me…and I needed that, too.

As abused as she'd been in the past—by the Illusive Man, in illusions, and by her father, in obviousness—Miranda was particularly vulnerable. Anyone else in my position could've done some real damage to her psyche. And I felt like she would've stayed regardless. Trying to love them anyway.

Shouldering more responsibilities beyond Miranda's view, I told her, "You're one of a kind, that's why. I love how perfect you are. How beautiful you are. In every way imaginable. You've suffered, but you're here with me. You're stepping out of your comfort zone in a lot of ways. I know you wouldn't do this for just anyone. It's special. So I want to return the favor. This is my way of doing that."

"I adore hearing that from you. Very much so. You know exactly how to stroke my ego. Genuinely."

We spent the rest of this separate ride talking some more. Not about anything in particular. Miranda just liked hearing my voice. She liked hearing me speak. She loved what we had, how we expressed ourselves. As we spoke together, I felt acutely aware of my surroundings. The dusk's rays outside had dimmed even through these tinted windows, nighttime rising already. I rubbed at my arms, feeling the air conditioned chill that had layered over my skin, and over my Alliance fatigues. I felt everything.

Feeling and sensing in clarity—it was so, so clear to me how Miranda felt. I heard it in her voice. I picked up on that timber of hers, enamored and full and unending. I could've started talking about the weather, or galactic news, or even about some random, pointless object, and it wouldn't matter. She would still sound like this. She would still be on this verge where she wanted me to kiss her through our omni-tools. She would still give off this vibe through her voice, wanting and needing me to have sex with her.

Miranda was completely in love with me.

Humbled by this realization, I tempered myself as my transit arrived to the med clinic.

Exiting the car, I found myself in the packed parking lot just outside the building. Plenty of humans walked in and out of the front doors—alone, or with their families, not quite spotting me yet. Too many clouds overhead kept me from spotting Illium's moon anywhere. And even in this open area, rising high up to the skies already, other buildings nearby rose up higher still, dwarfing this place. Grounded and critical as this clinic was, it made sense to have this lower foundation instead. The lights shone on through the windows, with the clinic itself expecting to be open well into the night. Pure dedication.

Not long afterward, I saw the obviousness of Miranda's approach to the parking lot. Obvious, because even though I didn't know what her skycar looked like, the one I saw just now spoke for itself. All-black in luxury, she descended her car in a show of control and poise in her driving. I automatically knew to walk over to her, finding Miranda in the driver's seat. Through her own tinted windows, I could see that bashful smirk on her face, realizing that I'd picked her out with ease.

I waited right outside her car door.

She opened her door, and stepped out, letting me help her as much.

Having her hand in mine like this as I guided her, I couldn't help admiring this moment. That step with her boots, I found too sexy for a time like this. Miranda had reapplied her perfume, too, with that midnight allure filling my inhales and defining my exhales. As ever, her sophistication went on and on.

"Hey, babe," I said, easing my kiss over her forehead. "I like your car. It's pretty nice."

Miranda simpered. "I'm glad you like it."

Knowing that other people stared at us now, I didn't care—I embraced her anyway. I needed her to know how I felt, even if I wouldn't say it. I needed her to feel what I knew, even if I wouldn't do more. She fell into me—as much as she would allow herself in public—muffling her moans against my chest.

"Shepard…"

"Thanks for letting me come with you."

"Thank you for insisting on it. I realized I would've regretted not bringing you along. It's a good thing you changed my mind. I do need to be more open with you about things like this. We're making progress."

I held Miranda's hand in mine, walking with her inside the med clinic.

We did our best to ignore the other people around. Or at least I did. Miranda did seem a little anxious about it. Especially once we sat down in the open waiting area. I kept her hand in mine. Supportive. Secure. Strong. She relaxed, somewhat, with my continued efforts. Even as I traced my thumb over hers, Miranda calmed down eventually. Over time.

But as she crossed her legs, I noticed she kept moving her ankle. Bouncing, fidgeting.

I leaned my leg over to hers, nudging her thigh with my knee.

Self-conscious all of a sudden, Miranda stopped moving altogether.

I just smiled to keep from laughing.

After a short while, one of the doctors called her over. I made to stand right as Miranda did. More insistent this time, she settled her hand over my chest, having me sit back down.

"Wait for me, Shepard," she requested. "Stay here. Really, it's all right."

I figured she was embarrassed enough as it was with so many eyes on us.

Even the doctor stared on at us, curious and intrigued.

"Whatever you want, babe," I conceded, staying in my seat. "I'll wait for you."

"I'll be back soon."

As she disappeared into another area with the doctor, I felt my mind start to wander. Suddenly, it sunk in—why we were here at all. Averting, or postponing that possibility of having kids together… Obviously, this was the responsible thing to do. We had our mission, after all. Against the Collectors; against the Reapers afterward. We didn't have the time or the freedom to be normal, unlike the people around us. Those people staring at me, still—some with their husbands or wives, with their own kids. Some who were here alone, looking like they wanted someone with them, just like I was for Miranda, as support.

Any other time, during a wait like this, I would've put my headphones on. Listening to music.

I couldn't even remind myself to do that much.

Too many thoughts caught up to me about this situation: how I'd seen these possibilities when Miranda and I had our first kiss together. I'd imagined everything with her. Absolutely everything. Even this.

Not the aversion. Not the postponement. But the actual process. The actual experience. That life as one.

I almost couldn't believe where I was at, emotionally.

I'd never wanted these things with anyone else before. I'd hardly even conceived of the idea.

These thoughts, these fantasies served as clear reminders for me. More reasons to fight. More reasons to succeed. I had still more reasons to give this mission my all—winning our future together someday.

I just couldn't get too caught up with this.

Not this quickly. And not this soon.

Soon enough, though, Miranda came back into the waiting area.

Automatic, I stood up from my seat. As tall as I was, I attracted even more attention, immediate. Miranda stopped in her tracks with this attention. Everyone noticed us. Their heads turned to look at her; to look at me, making this statement for her. This statement with my respect, with my honor.

Red in the face, Miranda walked back over to me.

She bundled my arm in both of hers, pulling me out the clinic, to the parking lot.

She wouldn't say anything as we returned to her car. I assumed she had everything she needed.

As much as Miranda wouldn't say anything, I helped her into the driver's seat anyway. She accepted my help, even though much of the red in her face had yet to leave. I made my way around to the passenger's side. And then we were off, driving through Illium's well-managed traffic to her apartment.

She at least let me hold her hand as she drove. Silence pervading, I focused on these details on her car. By this persistent smell of Miranda's perfume everywhere, I figured she'd spritzed that aroma over her while in here, and not at home. The constant brights of the headlights and taillights from the other cars: they seemed to shine brighter in this night, as the clouds overhead grew darker and thicker. Rain loomed as a real possibility soon enough, with the skies rumbling in a non-intrusive thunder. Quieted, restrained. It was only a matter of time before the rainstorm decided to pass over us.

Miranda drove a bit faster.

We made it to her complex's indoor parking lot just in time. Right as we passed through the secure entrance, the skies grew alight with lightning, rain cascading through the winds. I was pleased to find that Miranda had her own private parking space, too. Reserved for her and her alone—we didn't have to waste time driving around to find another space instead. So many other cars populated this darkened lot. Expecting the rain, everyone else who lived here must've settled for a night in during the storm.

Taking the elevator up to the 60th floor, I found a preview of sorts. Brightened lighting, smooth, slick silver surfaces, and a sterile white, everywhere—I figured Miranda's apartment would be something like this. I had even more reasons to assume as much: these hallways filled with apartment doors looked very much the same. Emotionless, straightforward. Not quite clinical, but almost. Direct and to-the-point.

When Miranda unlocked the door to her apartment, I found a continuation of the rest, flavored as her:

So much open space—this tall, tall ceiling spanned up past the two floors, expanding well up and above. Darkened once again, the height of the windows let in enough light from the rest of Nos Astra. Past the rain ebbing down the windows—over the kinetic barriers there—Illium's skyscrapers peeked through the night, those purple window lights shining on. Other cars raced past in silence, noise neutralized.

Lightning strikes flickered the harsh shadows over the walls, everywhere.

More white and silver and slick surfaces I saw in the kitchen's open space.

The wide, winding staircase led upstairs to Miranda's unobstructed bedroom, even more open. Sitting directly above the kitchen.

I spotted an office space beneath the stairs, next to the living room.

And the living room itself had those windows, the storm shining over the couches and vid screen there.

Perfectly clean, Miranda's apartment fit her well enough. Such a sense of hyper-organization jumped out at me, too. Just from a glance, nothing seemed out of place or wrong. She'd probably spent a long time cleaning an already clean living space, all for me, knowing that I would be here with her tonight.

Miranda's voice adapted to the climate, widening in a minor echo: "Are you sure you don't want anything to eat? Or perhaps something to drink."

"Don't worry about it," I told her. "I'm good. Unless you're hungry."

"I'm not. Admittedly, my stomach is in knots right about now. I don't think eating anything will help."

I smiled over her meaning.

"Well…make yourself at home," said Miranda. She clearly needed a moment. "Do you mind if I leave to freshen up and get changed? I'm going to take my new meds. They should kick in overnight. The miracles of modern medicine. You're free to look around as much as you'd like in the meantime."

"I don't mind at all. Go ahead. I'll be here."

"All right, then."

She retreated to the bathroom nearby, locking herself in there.

Smiling a bit more, I took this time to scope out the apartment in detail. Like the shower water running behind the bathroom door, the constant pattering of the rainfall along the windows kept me company.

Across from the kitchen, I took special note of the black and white art on the walls. Dark, dramatic photographs from grand performances: talented ballerinas in stunning poses, full orchestras in-sync with one another, and emotive actors reenacting some of Earth's most historic literary tales. Staring at these pictures, I realized I'd never been to any type of play or opera or live performance before. I already wasn't a fan of musicals, so the next best thing hadn't seemed too appealing to me. But Miranda was definitely an art connoisseur. Maybe I'd have to reconsider a few things when taking her out in the future.

Wandering into the kitchen directly, I noticed even more of a contrast to my apartment. Miranda had so many drinks everywhere. Lined and on display, she had her wines, teas, and champagnes sorted and organized. Looked like they were in alphabetical order. I imagined she had plenty of silver kettles and honey hidden away in the cabinets. She likely had an encyclopedic knowledge of where everything was.

Oddly enough, Miranda had one type of drink that wasn't expertly organized away. On the silver counter near the refrigerator, she had a bunch of bottles of bourbon lined up there. American bourbon. The same browned drink the Illusive Man usually had a glass of during our briefings and debriefings. Some of the bottles were empty. Others were only half-full. The empty ones—and the sheer amount of them—stood out to me, glimmering as they did in the flashes of lightning from outside.

Why did she have so many of these?

Did Miranda have a bad habit of drinking during certain times? Stress-drinking?

Humming in worry, I made a mental note of the possibility.

I went over to the office space, behind the stairs separating the kitchen from this area. I felt drawn to the red-orange glow from Miranda's multiple monitors on the wall. That low lighting dimmed over the shadows everywhere, including the long desk just underneath the screens. With this glow, and the fainter one from the desk lamp, I could see the impeccable cleanliness of Miranda's workspace. Books lined in perfect order, datapads catalogued and accounted for—everything lined up with each corner and line and edge, structural and cohesive. I saw the same story with the textbooks along the shelves over the wall: medical texts, instruction manuals, and tons of catalogues of printed Cerberus reports.

On the adjacent wall, opposite her computer monitors, I found something else framed there:

Miranda's master's degree. She'd earned her Master of Medicine double major in medical science and biology…from the University of California in Irvine. And she'd graduated with the summa cum laude honor—the highest possible distinction, saved for only the most outstanding students. With Miranda, that was no surprise. I remembered UCI had one of the best medical schools on Earth. The med school in San Diego—at UCSD—might've been another option for her. I wasn't sure if she hadn't considered it, or if she'd outright rejected the idea, because of my hometown. Funny how she chose not to mention it.

I could've gone up to her room next. Upstairs. There was nothing else up there except for the single bedroom. Miranda's fish tank lit up that space, the effervescent blue filtering down to me in temptation. I really wanted to go up there, but I chose not to. I couldn't. Not unless Miranda invited me up first.

So I completed my personal tour by visiting the living room instead.

Miranda only had two leather couches here, and a glass coffee table in the center, with her large vid screen hanging over some of the windows. She didn't have much on the table aside from a few coasters—again, each laid out in a meticulous sense of order. No collections of any sort. Nothing physical, anyway. I figured she had a sizable digital collection of her favorite films and art performances. But aside from the art across from the kitchen, she didn't really have any decorations…

Then again, I noticed something was a little off—there on the wall opposite her TV.

I saw what looked like a few blank spaces. Square, frame-like residue remained along five different spots. Almost as if Miranda used to have other frames hanging here. She'd recently taken them down.

No amount of cleaning or refusing-to-turn-on-the-lights could hide that evidence.

Curious now, I looked around for the frames. I found them just underneath the stairs, by her office, sitting there face-down. They were almost hidden here. Almost. Everything was almost organized—almost, almost. The few corners out of place, and the few lines not running parallel to each other spoke volumes. Miranda had put these here at the last minute. She hadn't taken that painstaking time to ensure that everything aligned perfectly, like the rest of the items throughout her apartment.

What was Miranda trying to hide from me?

I picked up the topmost frame. This thing weighed a ton. Wielding it as best as I could, I turned it around, moving it out to the red-orange light of her monitors in the office. And once I got a better look at this was, I understood why this wasn't on the wall anymore.

This photograph was of me. In color. From my modeling days.

Just a simple picture of me on the runway. I had on a slim, black three-piece suit, with a white dress shirt and black vest underneath. Black tie, hair tied back in my usual long tail: I must've been about twenty-three, twenty-four years old here. Frozen as I was in this frame, I picked out a certain power in my walk, and in the severity of my stare. The audience around me, beneath me, barely fit into the frame. What I could spot of them, they seemed enamored by my presence. Practically in awe of me.

I didn't like comparing myself to the sun. But there was something about this lighting that made my complexion pop and stand out, exactly in that way.

Doing my best to peek at the rest of the hidden frames, I found that they were all photographs of me.

Every single one of them.

I only put them away once I heard Miranda shut off her shower in the bathroom.

The rain outside persisted. I went over to the windows in the living room, reflecting on my reflection.

Because my reflection had absolutely lived in this space for a long time.

I understood that Miranda had chosen to live here on Illium to keep a closer watch on her twin sister. Oriana attended one of the universities here; twins as they were, they clearly weren't the same age. I'd expected to maybe find some pictures of her around. Instead, Miranda only had photographs of me, along with the rest of her artsy decorations. I knew I wasn't just a decoration to her. This was personal.

I started wondering how deep this truly went on Miranda's end.

I could never know her mind. Not completely.

Yet I'd started to get the sense that there was much more to this. She depended on me in so many ways. And I'd always liked that about her. But now I thought about just how much Miranda chose to conceal—on that personal, vulnerable level. After all, she'd admitted that she felt like she didn't exist without me.

With her new status—being with me—Miranda felt like someone now. She'd never felt this way before. Not even with her own status, working for Cerberus at such a high level: able to afford the riches of her car, her wardrobe, her apartment, her art, her alcohol, and everything else. Not even with this view of Illium's cityscape at night—she only felt like someone with me. She'd defined her entire identity around whether or not I knew she existed; whether Oriana knew she existed. In that loss, that state of non-being, she'd turned to selling her dominant sexual services to nameless people. Fucking faceless women. Giving them what they wanted. Never taking the time to focus on her own needs.

Messed up in that way, I could only imagine how she'd lost her mind in some sense. I didn't blame her.

That life had been everything she'd known.

Now, everything had changed. She'd given me the power to decide if she really existed or not.

This type of love had always seemed ideal to me.

Miranda's heart had been numb for so long, after all. Living that dispensable life. Never allowing herself to fail—unacceptable. Because everything she'd been through had made her stronger. Every day, she'd learned more about herself. And nothing really played out how it was supposed to—even though she didn't depend on her father's wealth anymore, having carved out her own path, her own fortune. She knew her value, and I certainly had enough money to spend on her. I loved the way she put herself together, knowing her worth—and soon enough she'd make her body bend for me, over and over again.

Specialized and trained even in her anxiety, Miranda exited the bathroom at such an opportune time.

She went to the kitchen first. I heard her moving around in there: the softness of her light, bare footsteps; opening her refrigerator, closing it; sounds of her lace nightdress shifting around her body, the firm shapes of her thighs; the gentle clinks of her nails along bottles of alcohol, selecting, choosing.

All those nights she'd spent without me, barely holding her own;

Blaming herself for life doing her wrong;

Such a lack of freedom, the soul draining from her eyes, all to that ice blue coldness, steely as the surfaces here in her home;

She'd somehow taught herself to smile, figuratively and literally. Every touch she'd sold before me had been a lie. She had it made, and yet this single dream of hers couldn't come true—until now.

Now that she walked over to me, holding a glass in her hand. Approaching me with caution, respect.

Miranda's reverence for me glowed in her reflection over the window.

That steel of her eyes had melted all over again for me.

Even her slavishness felt entirely sophisticated.

"Shepard," she said softly. "I brought you a drink. It's moscato. If we won't have dinner, then at least accept this from me. We'll do more tomorrow. I'll go all out for you. I promise."

I was about to turn around—but Miranda walked over to my side instead. Gazing up into my eyes, she handed me the chilled glass. The golden glow of this white wine burgeoned more in her light, beaming.

"Thanks for this," I accepted, before sipping.

Just as soft, she needed to know: "Do you like it?"

This sweetness was pure heaven. Such a light, pleasant feeling flowed through me right away.

"Yeah, I do. It's good."

Miranda smiled in satisfaction. "I hoped you would. I'll be sure to get you some more."

She had so many sentiments ready to burst from her heart. But she kept them inside, mostly.

Of those feelings, I could tell exactly how much she enjoyed having me here. It didn't matter whether we spoke or not, whether we did anything or not. For Miranda, it was enough to look up at me as I sipped this moscato she'd picked out. It was more than enough to be here next to me. To have me at home with her.

And as much as she restrained herself, I felt how excitable she was in this moment.

We weren't having sex tonight. But tomorrow night instead? That was a real possibility.

I had to make sure: "Babe, did you want me to spend the night?"

"Yes, I do… I don't have anything planned for us. But I don't want you to go back to the ship. I want you to stay. I want you to sleep in my bed. I need you to hold me through the night. Even just this once."

"Okay, then. I'll stay here tonight."

Eternally grateful, Miranda smiled more.

She took my free hand in hers, leading me upstairs.

Those hidden photographs of me beneath the staircase seemed to call out as we went.

As with that glowing blue from the fish tank, I heard the bubbling sounds of the water, soothing and serene. The tank itself sat raised behind the headboard of Miranda's queen-sized bed. More black and white bedding, pillows and duvet and all. Two nightstands rested at either side, with a few self-help books about sex and relationships on top of one surface, and a smaller picture frame on the other.

The stand closer to the stairs had the picture in view:

This picture was also of me. From years ago, back when I made N7, during my graduation at Arcturus Station. I was in my formal Alliance uniform, saluting my instructor in front of me. Never one to smile, not even for an occasion like this, I remembered how annoyed I'd been at the time. I hated ceremonies. I'd just wanted to get the whole thing over with. It didn't really show in my face. My usual seriousness hid the rest well enough.

Not noticing my notice, Miranda had me sit down on the bed. She knelt down to the floor, the smooth surface holding the blued light from the aquarium; the bluer shadows from the bed and the nightstand. At this lower level, Miranda was meticulous about taking my combat boots off for me. She set them aside with such a loving care. And then she stayed at that level, resting her head over my lap. She burrowed my hand in both of hers, lowered more beneath her face, almost tickled by the falling tresses of her hair. Even more meticulous, she kissed every part of my hand she could reach, one spot at a time.

I sipped more of my wine, watching her. Feeling her.

Each time her lips graced my knuckles, the pads of my fingers, my palm—I felt a new dimension of her lips, the shape of them. Curled over me, she tasted away the faint chill lingering from the wine glass; she tasted away the day on me, of all that I'd seen and done over these hours. Miranda could have done this for an eternity. All without stopping. Pure consecration she gave me, with or without meaning to.

The thunder and lightning outside lightened and deepened this meaning from her.

Miranda only stopped to breathe, to whisper with her head still bowed—"I don't know what's come over me… Having you here feels like a dream. It is a dream. Surely it must be."

"It's not a dream," I told her. "I'm here. You're with me. And we have this time all to ourselves."

Still in disbelief, Miranda stayed there in place.

Vulnerable as she was, the lightning flashed over her curled body. The exposed nape of her neck. Her bare legs, bent and kneeling, rising up to that high cut of her nightdress. Even though she'd turned on the heating system at some point, I still saw the chills rising along her neck, her arms, and her shoulders. Maybe not from the cold. Maybe just from the surreal sense of the moment. She couldn't believe this.

Gently, I pulled at her arm. Upward, speaking for itself.

Miranda accepted my momentum. She moved up with me. As she did, she was considerate enough to free the wine glass from my hand, setting it over the nightstand instead. We moved enough to set the duvet and sheets over, and to move under them. I was specific about positioning us, where we lay.

I made sure that I stayed on this side of the bed, closer to the stairs. Just in case.

I trusted her security VI to keep the apartment safe. But this was more of an old-fashioned thing for me.

Miranda understood my intentions. And she melted into me as I held her, needing this security for the sake of it. Because I gave it to her, and no one else. Because I wanted to; because I chose to. Because I wanted to protect her from any possibility, known or unknown. Even if I couldn't actually succeed, I would fight, and I would defend her anyway. Doing nothing and running away would've been far worse.

As with everything else, our relationship, it was the same. The exact same idea. The same significance.

I knew, she knew—we didn't have to say a word, falling asleep with this new beginning.