Miranda performed admirably. The whole squad did, in fact. Shepard had taken the time throughout their travels to spend time with each of them, to get to know them, to lend them a hand wherever they needed it. At first it had seemed like a waste of time to Miranda. They had not assembled a team to make friends; they had done it to save humanity, and the clock was always ticking.
Now, though, she was grateful. They were no longer a team, but a—a sort of family. Dysfunctional as hell, dangerous, and maybe even doomed, but a family nonetheless. They watched each other's backs, and Miranda could honestly say that she wouldn't have made it through the Collectors' base without them. She understood now why the Illusive Man had wanted Shepard exactly as she used to be. Not just for Shepard herself, but for the effect she had on the people around her.
Reconvening behind a massive closed door offered the whole team a momentary breath of relief. Miranda paced to the fringes of the crowd to check her pistol while Shepard delegated roles once again. She was only half-listening, since she already knew who the commander was going to choose.
Or, so she thought.
Until, "Jacob," the commander's voice rang out, strong as ever, over their heads. "You'll lead the second fire team this time."
Wait. Miranda stopped in her tracks.
Jacob? Why Jacob? Hadn't Miranda proven herself capable of leadership during the last leg of the mission, if not all their many missions before? Hadn't she done a good job? Wasn't Shepard satisfied?
Annoyed and insecure, Miranda pulled the commander aside while everyone else was occupied with their preparations. "Shepard, I could do it," she hissed once they were out of earshot. The last thing she wanted was to challenge Shepard's authority in front of everyone, especially now. "It worked out well enough last time."
"I know," Shepard replied, low and rough and something else entirely. Her eyes on Miranda's seemed to bore straight into her soul. And—oh. A memory of the other night flashed through her head, and she swallowed dry as the commander leaned in close. "I want you by my side for this," Shepard whispered near her ear, and Miranda heard the words she left unspoken: for the end. "I know it's selfish. I know this is exactly what you wanted to avoid. But I—" The redhead broke off, shaking her head helplessly.
Miranda understood. Even the great Commander Shepard was just a woman, underneath all that armor.
"I know," she replied shakily, because she did. This sort of emotional decision-making was exactly what she'd wanted to prevent by remaining detached, but at the same time, if she had to walk into hell, she wanted Shepard by her side for it. And she knew the feeling went both ways.
Shepard met her eyes, and the look that passed between them said everything they were afraid to voice aloud. Miranda nodded, and the commander nodded back. For now, it was enough.
"All right. Let's move out."
…
