It was time. The Reaper IFF was installed, the Normandy crew was gone, and they were on the way to the Omega 4 relay.
It almost didn't feel real. After all this time talking about their final assault, their impending doom, their suicide mission, now it was actually here. And Miranda felt numb.
She wasn't ready. She'd done everything in her power to prepare to die, logically: settle her debts, make sure her sister was safe, confess to Shepard. But now that she'd done those things, her desire to live had only grown stronger. She supposed it made for good motivation.
That wasn't the reason she'd volunteered to lead the second fire team into the Collector base. Well—not the only reason. She'd done it because it was her duty, and she felt confident in her ability to protect the rest of the squad. But also, she was willing to admit, she'd done it because she wanted Shepard to be proud of her. She wanted to earn the way the commander looked at her, all gentle and warm.
Shepard would tell her that that was silly, but Miranda hadn't survived this long by looking pretty. She'd done it by being useful. And this right here was what she was meant to do—her ultimate use.
But now that she was here, she was afraid she wouldn't even get the chance to fulfill it. Jack challenged her in front of everybody, of course, and Jacob and Garrus presented themselves as suitable candidates for the role, too. And in her head, Miranda knew they'd do just as good a job as she. But in her heart—
Shepard met her eye across the conference table like she could tell exactly what she was thinking. Miranda held her gaze, feeling raw. No one had ever known her as well as Shepard. No one had ever understood her in a single glance, except her.
"Miranda," the commander said without a moment's hesitation, "you're in charge of the second fire team."
Jack's grumbled complaint was background noise in relation to the rush of relief and satisfaction that washed over Miranda. It didn't matter what anyone else thought. She had a chance. A chance to make a difference in this crazy stunt they were about to pull. And a chance to prove herself to the woman she cared about.
Miranda straightened her spine to attention and, for the first and only time in her life, saluted her commanding officer. "I won't let you down, Shepard," in as steady a voice she could manage.
Shepard looked at her as if she wanted to say more. She could say so much with the furrow of her brows, the hard line of her jaw, but in moments like these it simply wasn't enough. It didn't matter; they had no time for more. The commander gave her only a sharp nod in response, and for now it would suffice.
Miranda would make sure they had time for more later.
…
