Chapter 21: (In)Convenient Interruptions and Avoided Conversations
Miranda
"Grunt, this is awful," Shepard complained, glaring at the screen of text projected in front of her face while she laid flat on the medical cot.
Grunt snorted, leaning over to see her screen. "You haven't even gotten to the good part," he declared, eyes crawling back to his own datapad. "You'll be at the fighting soon."
"The good part is over!" Shepard exclaimed dramatically. "They fell in love before the end of chapter two. What's the point of still going to war? They should go home. Live their lives."
"He's the Chief. Of course he's going to keep fighting," Grunt stated with a frown. Shepard grumbled something indistinct under her breath. "Mates have nothing to do with it," Grunt continued to assert.
He and Shepard had been having the same circular argument for the better part of a half hour, not nearly as exhausted from this morning's practice as I'd hoped. They'd unfortunately had the time to renew their energy with breakfast while I'd met with Samara after said practice. I'd expected more in the way of practical training from the asari, but the asari had only given some mental exercises to work on to prepare for the meld. Normally, I might be offended, but there were too many other things to worry about than one asari's opinion of my mental capabilities. For example, the delicate insertion of microfibers into the major muscle groups of Shepard's arms and shoulders.
Today was only the first of many procedures to come, having decided to stagger the operations to avoid having Shepard on bedrest. We didn't anticipate problems in the couple days it would take to reach Aeia, a planet that might hold answers for Jacob about his father, but completely benching the commander for non-critical medical reasons wasn't reasonable, much to Shepard's dismay at the thought of multiple surgeries.
Not to mention my own, I thought as I resigned myself to a future filled with these inane conversations. During travel days, squad members with minimal responsibilities like Grunt (and apparently Shepard) had little to do but read books and watch movies as a means to entertain themselves in between squad training sessions. It had never bothered me until I had to listen to it.
"Shepard, I only agreed to leave you conscious during this because you promised to do as I said," I pointed out.
"It's not like I can move my arms; you've got them numbed," Shepard protested.
"You can move your torso, which moves your arms. I suggest you try harder to be still, unless you'd like for me to make a mistake," I said.
Shepard rolled her eyes and smiled, but it was a cheap, brittle expression that left an unsettled feeling lingering in my stomach, which, quite frankly, had worried me from the moment I'd seen her this morning. Dark circles were still present under her eyes—one night of sufficient sleep couldn't do much, after all—and EDI had reported that Shepard had, once again, barely slept the night before after returning to her own cabin. It was to the point where my intervention was necessary, but Chakwas had said Shepard already tried sleeping drugs, once anyway, and refused to take them the next night. The short term solution was out, and longer term solutions were very much limited.
I simply didn't possess an instant cure for stress and nightmares.
"Why isn't Mordin doing this?" Shepard asked. "The microfibers were his project, after all."
I paused and tilted my chin down so I could see her over the surgical magnifying glasses perched on my nose then lifted my instruments away from the microfiber bundles I had been adjusting. Shepard raised an eyebrow as I rolled out my neck and sighed.
"Mordin's original blueprints, yes, but my modifications," I contested with a frown. "Besides, as you so astutely put it, I'm your 'builder person.' Naturally, I am the preferred candidate to operate on you."
The corners of Shepard's lips twisted into what could only be described as a satisfied smirk, and the stretch of it bunched up her cheeks around her eyes in amusement.
"You remember that?"
"You using such a ridiculous phrase? Distinctly," I replied, training my eyes downward again and setting back to work. Shepard's arm twitched under the area I was examining, and I huffed out my displeasure. "Be still. Or next time I'm putting you under."
I glanced up just in time to see a shadow crossing Shepard's face, but she nodded. The mood passed quickly, and shortly Shepard turned back to her conversation with Grunt, whose only reason for being in the medbay was to keep Shepard company, though his effectiveness at keeping her distracted was being proven unsatisfactory. Next time, I vowed, I was locking everyone else out.
"Alright, this is done," I announced, finally setting my tools aside to be sterilized and arching out my back from where I'd been hunched over the table. "It's very important that you're careful for the next day at minimum. Two days is preferred. Absolutely nothing strenuous. If you pull these before your body has time to heal around them, you could displace the cybernetics and lose function of your arms."
"Which you could just fix again anyway," Shepard commented, dropping her head dramatically back against the pillow.
"Not quickly." I frowned at her again. "And that is not the point."
"Yes, yes, fine," Shepard conceded and let her head fall to the side to face me. "I will be on my best behavior."
I nodded and began gathering my materials, focused on returning everything to their appropriate place in the medbay. My neck prickled with the awareness of being watched, and I turned to find it wasn't Shepard, who had turned back to reading the proclaimed awful book, but was instead Grunt, whose electric blue eyes were trained sharply on me before moving to Shepard and back.
"Stay here until you can move all of your fingers and Chakwas can do a pain assessment. I have an appointment with Samara to keep," I said, filling the silence before Grunt could. The krogan had been spending more time with Jack lately, and he had a glint in his eye that I'd learned was a precursor to asking me a question I would find uncomfortable. However, usually, those questions came when he'd already trapped me in my own office, but today the medbay was easy enough for me to vacate.
Unfortunately (or fortunately for everyone present except Grunt) the krogan wasn't given the chance to voice his question. My omni-tool interrupted with an urgent message: the Illusive Man wished to speak to both me and Shepard. I bit the inside of my cheek and looked up at her in apprehension.
"No rest for the wicked?" she joked. She sat up with awkwardly limp arms.
I glared at her until she laid back again. "It can wait. I'll send a message that we'll speak in an hour. You aren't moving until the medication is completely gone and you can feel your limbs to avoid injury," I stated.
"You sure? The Illusive Man doesn't seem the type to wait around. Not that I'm opposed to doing everything in my power to piss him off," Shepard replied with a surprised scrunch of her forehead.
"He'll wait for me," I replied, my tone dismissive and hard as I turned my back on her and stepped out of the room.
Less than an hour and a half later, Shepard and I had been informed of our new, dubiously worthwhile mission to board a Collector Ship when the same icy tone dripped from my mentor's lips as he asked me to stay on the communications.
"Miranda, a word before you go," the Illusive Man said. Different words but the same cadence, same steely inflections. I blinked and wondered how I'd never noticed how...similar we sounded.
The thought should have filled me with pride.
The commander glanced at me but nodded before leaving the small circle and disappearing from the projection. Without her by my side, arms crossed and glaring at my employer, I felt somehow different. I squeezed my hands together, hiding them behind my back.
Me, nervous? In front of the Illusive Man? I scoffed at myself. A ridiculous idea.
Yet not an entirely unfounded one. My newly discovered doubts stung like fresh tattoos across my face, plain as day for any to see. Gaps in my knowledge of Cerberus that I'd dismissed before as necessary secrets had begun to grate against me as deceit. Certainly, the Illusive Man had never given me an assignment that would truly test my morals, even when pragmatism dictated that such operations must exist. He'd always called them 'rogue' cells, not really part of Cerberus, and I'd never thought to (or at least hadn't wanted to) to dig deeper.
It was easier to believe him than to consider how much I must have overlooked for almost two decades.
"You've been quiet," the Illusive Man commented, tapping his cigar against the arm of his chair.
"You receive a report after every mission, same as always," I objected, my voice just as soft as his own.
"Yes, your work is impeccable, of course. I could never doubt that. It's your demeanor that seems changed," he observed.
The slightly detached, but familiar concern filtered through the Illusive Man's hardened countenance, and it was just enough to make my apprehension seem misplaced. The Illusive Man had done a lot for me, and I for him, so why was I facing him like an enemy? I believed in Cerberus, which meant believing in the man who ran it. To lose faith in the Illusive Man was to abandon everything I had worked for, all I had built. My position in Cerberus was the first thing that hadn't been given to me. I'd earned it.
Yet, today, I felt like an imposter standing in that past woman's shoes, with her clear goals and undivided loyalties.
I dug my fingernails into their opposite palms and kept my chin up.
"The commander has a unique way of running her ship. I admit, I may still be adjusting to the lack of boundaries," I answered, quickly enough that my hesitation would be barely noticeable.
The Illusive Man smiled, a reassuring gesture, and my own mouth habitually twitched up in return. "We never expected her to be easy to deal with," he replied. He paused to raise his drink for a sip. "I trust you haven't wavered in our mission?"
"You can always trust me," I confirmed.
"If seventeen years of working with you has taught me one thing, it's that I can always depend on you to get the job done, Miranda. I've been very pleased with your success," he replied, seeming satisfied with my answers and nodding to end the discussion. "I look forward to your next report."
I acknowledged him with a nod and waited for the communications display to lower around me before letting my chin fall.
"It's rude to eavesdrop," I tossed over my shoulder.
"You couldn't have seen me," Shepard said. She stepped up behind me, and her light touch on my still clenched hands reminded me to drop them. I turned to look at her, face carefully unreadable.
"Your footsteps never left the room, Shepard," I noted.
"Lack of boundaries, huh?" she asked.
I released a sigh in a rush of breath. "We should assemble the team. The coordinates the Illusive Man stated are close by."
Shepard opened her mouth like to say more then closed it, the crease between her eyes deepening.
"EDI?" Shepard asked finally.
"Calling all ground team members to debriefing. Remaining crew will be mustered to battle stations. Permission to change the course of the Normandy to the coordinates provided?" EDI asked.
"Granted," Shepard replied, strolling up to the head of the oval table to wait for the team to arrive.
"Acknowledged. Changing course."
The first to arrive were, naturally, Jacob and Mordin from the adjoining armory and lab, both with concerned frowns etching lines into their faces, Jacob more so than Mordin. My fellow Cerberus teammate was likely worried about a change in schedule; he'd always worn his emotions out for everyone to see, and now was no exception.
Garrus trailed in next followed closely by almost everyone else who'd managed to fit in the elevator together. Grunt, naturally, appeared a few minutes behind. I didn't see Kasumi, but EDI was under orders to announce if the elusive woman actually didn't show up, so I assumed she was cloaked in the room somewhere. Quite frankly, I worried that without EDI to keep tabs on her, she'd be left behind on some planet with the rest of us none the wiser. Kasumi loved her tactical cloak entirely too much.
"You not read your own memos, Princess?" Jack demanded, stomping into the room. No, but it's surprising that you read them. "Today's supposed to be a free day. As in, no-hauling-my-ass-to-a-fucking-meeting free day."
It was fruitless to point out that it was, in fact, Shepard that technically called the meeting, but Jack enjoyed blaming me for everything instead. I clenched my jaw and let it be.
"We got a surprise mission, Jack. Calm down and I might let you shoot some things today," Shepard replied, her hip leaning casually against the table as she managed the conversation.
Jack scowled and crossed her arms but, thankfully, kept her foul mouth shut.
"Alright, we got a tip that a turian patrol managed to disable a Collector Ship. We've redirected to its location in the hopes of finding something useful aboard. No doubt there will be data that could prove valuable to our mission," Shepard reported.
Garrus wheezed out a cough, thumping a fist against his chest. "Commander, I'm as proud of our military as the next turian, but there's no way a single turian patrol managed to take out one of those ships."
"This tip came from Cerberus? It screams 'trap,'" Tali added, planting a hand on her hip.
"I agree, but regardless of Cerberus' morals, they still have every reason to see us succeed. What reason could the Illusive Man have to send us faulty information?" Shepard replied. Her fingers tapped against the table slowly. "Miranda?"
I felt more than saw every head turn in my direction. There was something of a challenge in Shepard's green eyes as she locked gazes with me. I stared right back, irritation rasping at the inside of my chest.
"It wouldn't be the first time the Illusive Man has sent out a team without all the information," I admitted, earning a surprised look from Jacob. "It isn't an unusual practice to withhold information with the intention to make our reactions non-fabricated during the mission, to make the enemy believe we've been fooled by their trap. I've done it myself."
"Except I knew he was lying the moment he said 'turian patrol.' The Illusive Man can't possibly believe I'm this stupid or he wouldn't have bothered to rebuild me, right?" Shepard replied, sarcastically rolling her eyes. I didn't comment. "Either way, I suppose the potential for information is too good to pass up. But when we dock with the ship, I'm not taking the entire team."
"More for me," Grunt agreed, bumping his fists against each other with a nod of his head.
"Pardon my disagreement, Commander, but wouldn't it be more prudent to have more fire power going against such an unknown?" Samara cut in.
"Maybe, but if this is a trap laid by the Collectors, the smartest thing for them to do once we've entered the ship is to flank us and cut off our exit. A team will stay with the shuttle and cover our backs," Shepard explained. And minimize the risk of losing the entire team if we aren't all huddled together, I mentally added.
"An excellent plan, Commander. It will work well with you leading us remotely," I said.
Shepard's face contorted into something surprised and twisted with disbelief. "Remotely? Not happening," she snorted.
"Did you forget that you had surgery this morning? We're lucky I had the foresight to stagger the operations or you wouldn't even be out of bed," I asserted. "The risk of you losing function of your arms in the middle of a battle is too high."
"If it were one of us–" Shepard's nostrils flared– "you'd never let us go, Shepard," Tali added, almost begrudgingly backing me up.
"Then I'll take up the rear. But I'm not sending my people on something this dangerous and staying behind," Shepard insisted. "Surgery be damned."
I pressed my lips together and conceded with a rough, "Understood, Commander."
When she turned to me again, her face was softer. "Good. Miranda, you'll be with the second team, ready to assist if we need it," Shepard stated.
My whole body went still as I processed that now she was trying to leave me behind, a complete reversal of my earlier intentions. Jack grinned at me from the side, and I stared coldly back at Shepard.
"Grunt and Tali will be staying as well, under Operative Lawson's authority," Shepard continued.
"You're kidding," Tali said flatly. "What if you need something hacked? Technical expertise?"
Shepard shrugged. "Kasumi has handled most of the hacking so far. Not to mention I've got access to an AI through my omni-tool."
Luminescent eyes blinked behind Tali's purple visor. "Way to trivialize all of my contributions to this team, Shepard," the quarian replied.
"You'll be more useful helping Miranda breach security doors if a trap is sprung. If anything, it's a compliment to your skills that you're the only tech expert I'm leaving behind," Shepard flattered as Tali crossed her arms.
"Three people isn't much of a team, Commander," I put in.
Shepard's face lit up with a smirk as she and Garrus exchanged a look. "Only three of us fought the last battle with Saren on the Citadel. I have faith in you, Operative Lawson."
Faith. I scowled to myself. What a fickle thing that was.
XXX
Garrus
If it weren't for my faith in Shepard, my ass would be planted firmly in the mess hall of the Normandy instead of walking into into the belly of the Collector Ship. Hell, if I hadn't had that spark of wild hope in Shepard back at the very beginning, I'd still be in my comfortable job at C-Sec. Maybe my father would have even convinced me to calm down, stop pushing the rules so hard. I wouldn't have stopped Saren with Shepard or ended up on Omega with my team.
Ten good men might still be alive.
My finger brushed against Sidonis' name etched into my rifle, tapping against it as I thought. I'd received an email from Aria T'Loak offering me information on his whereabouts. In exchange for a favor, of course. But Aria wasn't the most trustworthy of allies, and I already knew Sidonis was last on the Citadel, so her information could be dated anyway. Was I curious enough to take the risk?
Really just depends on the favor, I suppose, I answered myself.
That is, until I stood peering about the graveyard of tens of thousands of humans, some of their bodies carelessly discarded in piles that we carefully skirted around as we trudged deeper into the Collector Ship. Then Sidonis' sins seemed further away, less worthy of my attention in comparison. I still brushed my finger over the name again.
"Stay wary, Garrus," Shepard ordered, her voice a hiss over the helmet communicators.
The commander was in the middle, ready to fall back as promised, and the reversal in positions put me on edge. Jack had replaced her on point in our formation, her biotics and fighting style a rough equivalent to Shepard's, but Jack—after many agonizing reminders on Miranda's part—had learned to fight with Miranda's group. The main three—two? Tali had been arguing against her appointment to Miranda's team—members of Team Black were now behind us, and Jack crowded my shoulder terribly. Accustomed to the large krogan battering ram, if I were to guess.
Samara and Thane were also newcomers to our formation, but they flowed in well to positions that were already open. Thane with his rifle dragged to the far back, pushing Zaeed out of his place and into a more natural post at the far side where he could get better range on his grenades but still use his sniper rifle. Samara, in addition, had been trained in the ways of asari commandos, inclined towards small team tactics, making her an extreme asset to our mission. She took up her place in the very center of the group, ready to manipulate the battlefield and provide biotic assistance the moment we entered combat.
"Perhaps I should be leading, Vakarian" Tali opined on the comms, still irritated at being left with the second squad. "Ladies first, as they say."
"They also say experience before beauty, Tali," I countered, and the comms crackled with silence.
Jack knocked her elbow roughly against mine with a snort. "Smooth."
"Focus," Shepard snapped again, and I looked back to see her prowling forward only to halt and force her steps to hold her back, like a captive nathak testing its chain. I shook my head with a start. This mission was too fragile to let my wandering thoughts get the better of me.
"Hold," Shepard ordered, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Mordin stopped by one of the piles of bodies, looking between them and the empty pods they were abducted in. "What is it, Mordin?" she asked.
The salarian held a hand up to his chin. "Illogical to abduct humans just to kill them here. Experiments?"
"It makes sense," Miranda added in over the comms. She, Tali, and Grunt watched our movements through the helmet cameras. "A control group would be discarded at the end of the experiment."
"And the rest of the colonists?" Shepard asked. "We haven't exactly seen a holding area for live humans. Plus it's too quiet. A group as large as all the people they've taken would be making more noise, even in a ship as big as this."
"Unless they kept them in those pods," Miranda commented. "But if that's the case, they still must not be keeping them alive for long. There's no sign of a life support system in the pods."
"That makes it unlikely the colonists from Horizon are still alive here," I concluded, saying what I assumed the rest of them were thinking. "Or they transferred them off the ship to somewhere else."
Shepard nodded grimly. "EDI, how far until that access node you mentioned?"
"It is not much further, Commander," EDI replied.
Shepard waved us onward, and I paced forward cautiously, sweeping the corridor through the scope of the new M-98 Widow I'd found in a weapons locker near some twisted, Collector version of a laboratory that revealed the Collectors were actually the long-dead Prothean species. Shepard seemed to care very little about the revelation but had brightened at the discovery of a M-300 Claymore nestled at the bottom of the same weapons locker. That is, until Miranda strictly prohibited its use, reminding Shepard that her newest implants would rip at the kickback.
Shepard's mood darkened further at the news that we were on the same ship that destroyed the original Normandy.
"I still think it would be a good idea to do some damage while we're in here," Tali said. "I've got a nasty little virus that could wreak havoc on their systems for at least a week."
"Need I remind you that we aren't supposed to be here." Miranda's hiss came across the comms as well. "Drawing attention to ourselves before we get the information we need is unwise."
"So we do it after we get what we want," Tali snapped back. "This is why I should have been with the other team."
"I'm sure the Cerberus AI is perfectly capable of planting a simple virus without your help," Miranda replied.
The feed from Miranda and Tali suddenly clicked off, but muffled, angry voices could still be heard echoing over Grunt's feed as he stood nearby. I glanced over at Shepard, but she shrugged.
"They'll work it out," she dismissed, pointing for me to continue.
The hallway opened into a massive chamber, every inch of the walls studded with the pods that had been used on the colonists. My stomach dropped.
"That must be the control panel EDI told us about," Shepard said. She pushed out of the group and took up in front of it, activating her omni-tool.
"Shepard," I breathed. "This many pods...They must be planning to go after Earth."
Because her visor was untinted for the indoor setting, I could see the cold look Shepard shot me over her shoulder before turning her attention back to her omni-tool. Her back was stiff.
"Collectors took tens of thousands of humans from remote colonies with no indication of stopping, Garrus. Where did you think this was going?" she pointed out scathingly.
I let her irritability roll off me, even as I bristled at her tone. Shepard was stressed; we were all stressed, but if the shadows under her eyes were any indicator, she had the worst of it. Shepard needed someone to snap at, so it might as well be me. Shepard's temper was an old friend, even if she used to be better at hiding it.
She stopped what she was doing and came close while shutting off her comm feed. She spoke through her external helmet speaker only, turned as low as it would go. "We're far enough in now, and the prize is dangling in front of us. If they're going to spring a trap, it's going to be now."
Shepard clasped my shoulder as I nodded and readied my gun. At the commander's signal, the team formed up in a circle around the control panel, with Shepard at the center.
"Connecting EDI now," Shepard muttered.
The lights on the display lit up with a flash, and EDI announced, "Data mine in prog–"
A warning tone played, and then the comms were swamped with the crackling of white noise. A few seconds later, I heard a click, and the noise was gone.
"Power surge, but we're back up. Shepard, that was directed at the Normandy. I think it's time to go," Joker warned. "EDI can download while you make your way back."
"Roger that, Lieutenant," Shepard acknowledged. "Everyone: move–"
The platform shuddered under our feet, and I looked to Shepard with wide eyes.
"Shit."
The platform surged upwards, knocking me to my knees. The rest of the team fell around me, and we clung to the texturized metal grating until it stopped with a jerk and stabilized mid-air. A green hand appeared before me, and Thane helped me to my feet. I dropped again not a second later as a bullet smashed against my shield.
"Into cover!" Shepard ordered, and all nine of us scrambled behind the short outcrop that held the control panel.
More platforms rose around us carrying the Collectors that had waited to make their appearance. The next minutes passed in a blur of action, our team pinned in a surrounded assault that we scurried to return. The scarce cover only protected one side, so we shuffled into a five person semi-circle, containing the remaining four in the center to rotate out when someone's kinetic shield and barriers (provided by Shepard and Samara) had depleted.
"EDI what the hell are you doing? Get us out of here!" Shepard roared.
"Download complete. I need you to manually reestablish the connection to the platform, Shepard."
Shepard sprang to her feet, slamming her left hand down onto the controls. Within seconds, the platform began rising again, and Shepard slumped down to the ground with a sigh, even as EDI relayed that she'd found the falsified turian signal in the data of the ship. She also confirmed that the Illusive Man would have known it was false, and that this was, indeed, a trap. As if we really needed the confirmation. I patted Jacob's shoulder in relief, the nearest teammate to me and also the one that had taken several bullets against his armor on my behalf.
"Team Black, what's your status?" Shepard called over the comms.
There was a hiss as Grunt's feed activated. "Commander...husks," he huffed out.
"...overwhelmed…" Tali's voice added, going silent again except for the distinct, dull moans of rabid husks. "No, Miranda!"
A high pitched scream sounded in the background, and Shepard bounded from the platform the moment EDI set it back down where we'd started, charging forward and apparently forgetting that she was supposed to lead from the back.
"Double time, people!" Shepard ordered.
"Seconded!" Joker chimed in from the Normandy's cockpit. "The Collector ship is powering up. We need to get out of here and fast!"
With more room to move and dodge, the nine of us slaughtered the lines of Collectors that attempted to stop us, weaving in and around each other just like we'd reinforced in practice. Even another Praetorian like the one we'd encountered on Horizon wasn't enough to slow us down, as myself, Jacob, Jack, and Zaeed all pulled out the heavy weapons we'd equipped as a precaution and sent the bastard down in a hail of rockets.
However, my bravado shattered when a herd of scions arrived and scattered our formation in a single wave of three well-placed shockwaves. I took a hit straight to the chest and sailed across the room, crunching against the wall before dropping straight onto my knees. My vision flickered in bright pain.
"Commander!" Samara's alto voice cut through the popping of bullets, and I jerked my chin up to see a scion dangling Shepard by an arm, her body hanging awkwardly limp from it. Shepard balled a warp in her free, left hand and slammed it forward into the creature's armor, and though it staggered, it was barely phased. I couldn't get a clear shot without potentially hitting Shepard, and the rest of the team was occupied with the two other scions.
Crackling yellow energy lit up around the scion holding Shepard until it shone out of the its eyes.
"We are Harbinger," the scion taunted in a deep, mechanical tone, and I froze. Reaper. "You cannot escape your destiny, Shepard. Why do you resist?"
"Because fuck you, that's why," Shepard retorted, struggling against its grip. The scion's fist tightened, and Shepard gasped.
"Pain is an illusion. Join us, and we could show you."
"The shotgun, Shepard!" Miranda yelled weakly over the comms. "It should be powerful enough to go through."
Shepard's free arm fumbled for the Claymore she'd strapped to her back earlier, gritting out, "Make up your mind, why don't you!?"
Shepard whipped the heavy gun upwards and shoved the nozzle into the head protruding from the scion's right shoulder. She squeezed the trigger, and the blast tore through the scion's head and ripped open a hole straight through the sac on its back. The scion dropped her as it thudded to the ground, Shepard landing on her back next to it with a yelp of pain.
Shepard stared at her limp arms in horror as I raced over to her, grabbing under her armpits and dragging her into cover while the other two scions were still being distracted by the rest of the team. I leaned over the short wall to see Kasumi moving with a slight limp, but Jacob stepped forward to defend her weakened side until the two of them made it behind a pillar. The five others looked otherwise uninjured, if a bit worn from the fighting.
"I can't move either of my arms," Shepard groaned. She stayed slumped where I put her, but her breathing sounded labored and much too fast. "Ouch."
"Team Black, report your status," I said over the comms, darting out to grab the shotgun Shepard dropped before huddling back in safety with Shepard.
"We're fine," Miranda announced. "Shepard?"
"Wallowing in a deep pit of regret," Shepard replied. "But still alive. Make your way towards us; it's getting heavy over here."
The unmistakable thump of biotics sounded from across the room, followed by Grunt's uninhibited chuckling as three husks went flying over our heads.
"Already here," Miranda replied.
Grunt went charging straight in, bumping a quick fist with Jack before they started forward together in a renewed assault. Tali was waved over by Mordin, who began motioning excitedly to his omni-tool, and Miranda slid in with me and Shepard. I noticed a worrying amount of red blood painted down in drips along the right upper chest and shoulder of her armor, but if she was hurt, she didn't show it.
"Are you okay?" Shepard asked, eyes stopping at the same place mine had: the blood on her armor.
Miranda only nodded while casting a critical eye at Shepard's arms. "Naturally," she grumbled.
"You said to use the shotgun!" Shepard protested.
"You also said you were going to lead from the back," Miranda countered. "And instead, let a scion almost rip your arm completely off."
"I think we've got bigger problems at the moment," I interrupted, gesturing to the two scions still pounding out shockwaves whenever one of our team went too far out of cover.
"Shepard, we have an idea," Tali interrupted over the comms. "Mordin uploaded a copy of his neural shock program to my omni-tool. He thinks a direct neural shock to the sac on their backs will kill them, like stopping a heart, if one of us can get close enough."
"Samara, can you hold a strong stasis on one of them?" Shepard asked.
"Yes," the asari answered with confidence, pushing herself up and readying her hands.
"Take the right," Shepard ordered. "Miranda, put a stasis on the left one, and Tali and Mordin you take them out as fast as you can. If it doesn't work, they'll put another stasis so you two can get back to cover. Go!"
Samara reacted instantly, blue energy flowing from both hands, and Miranda did the same. Tali and Mordin vaulted out of cover together before splitting in different directions to approach their two quarries. Mordin reached his scion first and placed his omni-tool against the sac just as Samara dropped the stasis so the shock could get through. Red light filled the room with a flash, and the scion tumbled down. Tali repeated the feat with the last scion, and as it hit the ground, all twelve of us stood in relief.
Grunt looked at Shepard's arms with a shake of his head as the team gathered together. "'First lesson outside of the tank: when dealing with a biotic, always pin their arms,'" Grunt said, voicing the strange phrase like it was something he'd memorized.
"He's right, Shepard," Miranda seconded. She was turned away and didn't see the happy smile that lit up Grunt's face, but I did. Her voice lowered, like she was trying to keep her next words from the team. "You're incredibly vulnerable now. No arms to activate most of your biotic attacks and no weapon."
"Then it's a good thing we're almost off this ship," Shepard replied, standing with a little help from Miranda. "Let's move; we're almost out of time."
We ran, all twelve of us, our armored boots beating like discordant drums against the strange material of the Collector ship floor. There was a last wave of husks on the final hallway, but the five remaining biotics swept them easily out of our way. We piled into the shuttle, pleased smiles slipping onto several faces, and the shuttle pilot shot us towards the Normandy and safety.
Joker activated the mass effect core and shot the ship away the moment the cargo bay doors closed and the shuttle was landed. There was a collective sigh of relief.
"Good work today team," Shepard said, waiting for the shuttle door to slide open and hoping down. "Everyone one of you is to report to the medbay for a check-up. No exceptions. Then take the rest of the…" her voice sputtered out into a hiss when Miranda pulled her helmet off. "...night off. Dismissed."
"What happened?" she demanded, looking at the blood coating Miranda's skin from her ear all the way down to the top of her armor. It pooled around a large bite mark just below her jaw, the vibrant red shining dull through a hardened application of medi-gel.
"She was protecting me," Tali admitted, arriving at my right shoulder and brushing against it briefly with her own. I let myself drift closer to her, glad the quarian was uninjured after what we'd heard on the comms.
"The husks are getting smarter," Miranda stated. "One managed to pull my helmet off while I was distracted with another."
I remembered the scream from earlier, and I shuddered.
"You should hurry to Chakwas," Tali said, her hands wringing in front of her.
Miranda nodded and looked to Shepard to follow her up with a pointed glare to Shepard's dangling arms. Miranda paused with a glance back over her shoulder. "Don't worry; I heal fast," she strangely assured Tali before turning and continuing her march off. I heard her launch into chastising Shepard before they'd even made it a few steps.
"I guess you two worked things out, huh?" I asked Tali.
"Can it, Vakarian," Tali snapped, but then her voice softened. "I can see how she won you all over, that bosh'tet. She really saved me today." She paused. "For a second, I was scared she was dead. Then she got right back up and offered me a suit patch."
Tali shook her head.
"She really does heal fast," I said, fumbling for the right response.
Tali stared at me, luminescent eyes blinking slowly behind her visor. "I should have been paying better attention. But I was distracted. I received some...bad news this morning."
"I, uh, had something similar today too. Did you want to talk…?" I offered, cringing as I awkwardly trailed off.
"Not today," she declined. "I would take a drink though."
I smiled. "I've got just the thing."
XXX
Miranda
The bite to my neck had been cleaned and sealed with more precious medi-gel by Chakwas after more traditional stitches were decided to be a poor substitute. The wound was too close to important arteries in my neck. However, after several hours, it was already starting to close up on its own, though the area itched enough to be irritating.
I covered the wound with my hand, hoping the coolness of my palms would seep through the medi-gel and relieve the discomfort, but all it did was remind me of lying on the ground, dizzy and nauseous, while Tali scurried for the medi-gel, panicked and asking me questions rapidly. And when I'd felt the mission was at its worst, I'd found my helmet and put it on once more only to see Shepard in the grip of a scion.
I'd thought, just for a moment, that that was going to be it: that was how Shepard would die for the second time, and I was too far away to stop it. All my anger at her stupidity, all my frustration, was all muffled by the one blinding, terrifying thought: that Shepard was going to be gone.
The months of learning to work together, the agonizing patience I'd retrieved every time Shepard had growled out an angry comment towards me, and the very fragile, fleeting something that was in her eyes now when she looked at me, all of those would have simply become memories, pulled out when I'd long for what could have been if she'd lived. Not just because of the impending Reaper threat, but because I now believed Shepard as a person would be a loss. I would miss her. The idea was enough to petrify me into place, even now when I knew Shepard was safely upstairs.
It was a good thing I didn't really need to move. I'd wandered down to the cargo bay and stood in the cleared area we used for the fighting simulations, and the program displayed one background that we had never used—or rather, I didn't think Shepard knew it existed, tucked amongst the thousands of other locations on offer—the projection of Lazarus Station.
White walls flickered up around me until I was standing in the operation theater, its pristine interior unmarred by bodies and bullet holes unlike the last time I'd seen it. My hand hovered above the table, remembering how it felt under my fingertips, back when bringing a dead person back to life seemed like the biggest obstacle in the universe.
"I had to ask EDI just to find you. What are you doing down here?" Jacob interrupted, entering the boundaries of the simulation and staring around the holographic room.
"You were looking for me?" I asked unnecessarily without turning.
Jacob came up on my right shoulder. "Yes, I had...a favor to ask of you."
"That sounds ominous," I replied, stepping away from the operating table and flicking my eyes towards him.
Jacob smiled easily, shaking his head. "Don't worry. It's nothing you can't handle. Shepard won't be fit for duty by the time we reach Aeia. But since it should just be a simple recon mission, she said we could still make the stop, and I would just pick my own team."
I nodded. Only the cybernetics in one arm had been salvageable, having been simply yanked out of place, but in her right arm, they'd been semi-crushed by the microfibers that had detached, the manner in which they wrapped around the cybernetic bundle strangling the sensitive technology when the scion had swung her about. We needed two days for a replacement to get to a port where we could stop to retrieve it.
"I was included in the decision. What of it?" I asked.
"I want you there," Jacob stated simply. "All those stories I told you about my father...It wouldn't feel the same without you there to hear the ending. Or I what I hope will be an ending, anyway."
"Of course I'll come," I agreed, folding my hands behind my back. I felt Jacob's eyes still on me; no doubt he wanted more—a sign of gratitude, perhaps—but I didn't know what else to tell him. I would be there for him, and I would be just as uncomfortable sharing in his pain as I was when he initially opened up about his wayward parent. Yet, I would handle it. Because he asked, and because in some ways, abandoning him after all our history together would feel like breaking a promise.
Then again, my promises were meaning less and less these days.
Jacob's hand settled warm on my shoulder. "Would you like to talk about it?"
"Talk about what?" I replied.
"Miranda," he said, exasperation coloring his tone so sharply that I turned to look at him. "We've known each other for years, and you're not nearly as mysterious as you like to think you are." He flashed a crooked smile as his eyes ran around the holographic room again. "You said you did your best thinking in here."
That was the thing about Jacob: at times he was frighteningly obtuse and at others, he would manage to cut right to the heart of my problem with a few words. It frustrated me just as much now as it had back when we'd been in a romantic relationship.
"The problems back then were easier to solve," I replied, steadfastly looking away.
Jacob gave a disbelieving chuckle and reached for my hand. "Only you would call the Lazarus Project easy."
I stared at our two hands together without answering as he ran a thumb over my knuckles. It wasn't unpleasant, but I usually avoided his public displays of affection. Now, especially so. I waited a few seconds, to not offend him, before retrieving my hand from his grasp.
"You're conflicted," he stated, and I raised an eyebrow at him until he clarified, "You outright admitted that the Illusive Man was lying to Shepard this morning. I've never seen you do that before. Non-denial denial, maybe; you always were good with your words. But taking a side that wasn't the Illusive Man's? Never."
"You must be so pleased," I snapped. "You never did trust him."
Jacob had the audacity to roll his eyes at me, and I took a step back, crossing my arms.
"Everyone gets their faith shaken sometimes, Miranda. You're no different," Jacob said. That word again: faith. None of this was supposed to be about faith. Cerberus was supposed to be working to a higher purpose: the advancement of humanity. It was only logical to align myself with an organization that shared my goals. So talking about shaken feelings that shouldn't have existed in the first place was certainly not going to make me feel better.
I began to wonder why I was even entertaining this conversation.
"Honestly?" Jacob continued. "For the longest time, I thought the Illusive Man confided everything in you. That you knew all about the more nefarious operations but were good at keeping to the company line."
I set my jaw. "You must have thought me a horrible person," I replied. Jacob's hand went to my shoulder again. "And yet you let me convince you to join Cerberus anyway. I don't understand."
"No, you convinced me that some parts of Cerberus could be good or, at least, some of Cerberus' people. And at least I could actually do something, unlike with the Alliance," Jacob stated, looking at me squarely. He hesitated, chewing just barely on his lip. "That doesn't mean I didn't like the idea of Cerberus. It could be a good one...in different hands."
Both my eyebrows shot up, uncertain whether the soldier was implying what I thought he was (or perhaps just unwilling to admit that I knew exactly what he was thinking). Then I heard the signature ding of the elevator, and I simultaneously ended the simulation program and stepped away so that Jacob's hand fell away.
"Miss Lawson?" A head of distinctive ginger hair bobbed just above the top of a pallet of stacked crates, followed quickly by Kelly Chambers herself. She stopped at the sight of us. "Oh, EDI didn't say Operative Taylor was with you."
"I'm popular today," I mused with a disgruntled narrowing of my eyes. "What can I do for you, Miss Chambers?"
"There's a–" Her eyes went to Jacob– "sensitive matter I wish to discuss with you," Kelly stated.
"I was just leaving," Jacob offered, stopping just at my shoulder and leaning close to whisper in my ear, "For the record, I never thought you were a horrible person."
I watched him walk all the way to the elevator, my shoulders still stiff with surprise, then turned back to the yeoman.
"You were saying?" I asked once he was gone.
"It's about Shepard." My back straightened. "I believe I have a suitable solution to her sleeping problem," Kelly began. "However, the commander is refusing to even consider the idea."
It was interesting that Kelly felt confident enough in her idea to apparently go around Shepard's refusal to me. She also seemed to have forgotten that Shepard ranked above me on this ship.
"And this idea is…?" I trailed off, waiting.
Kelly bit her lip. "Well, I was doing my usual psych evaluation for the commander, and I decided to incorporate the results of the sleep study you've asked EDI to conduct. She's even used previous recordings to analyze Shepard's sleep from before you ordered the study. The data showed something interesting," Kelly explained. I knew I was already sneering at the woman, but I couldn't seem to get my face to stop, not when Kelly was so obviously walking into territory that I didn't want her anywhere near. "The two times Shepard has been asleep in your presence, she's slept the entire night through."
Which, naturally, I already knew. "Your point. Do get to it," I snapped.
"You should sleep with Commander Shepard," Kelly answered.
I stared at her. "Now's not the moment for joking, Miss Chambers," I said scathingly. "If you don't have a serious solution for this problem, I'd suggest you don't waste my time."
"I'm not joking," Kelly replied, calmer than I expected from her. "Shepard's nightmares are a result of extreme emotional distress, distress which she refuses to fully speak to me about. She needs a counselor or another professional to learn to cope with these issues, but her sleep study clearly shows that we don't have that kind of time, even if she were willing to talk about it. In the meantime, a more immediate solution..."
"And how exactly do you think my physical presence in her bed solves her emotional problems?" I asked.
Kelly's lips thinned. "It's unorthodox; I understand. Shepard was...reluctant to answer why she thought she slept better with you there. But her subconscious mind obviously draws comfort from not sleeping alone, and the results don't lie."
"Except if Shepard refused this option, then the matter is already settled," I replied slowly, frowning at her.
"But she only said no because she felt it would be sexual harassment to pressure you into this kind of arrangement," Kelly explained.
"And you obviously disagree," I commented wryly, watching her closely as her jaw set with determination.
"Forgive me, but Shepard wrongfully took the choice away from you. There is nothing wrong with the situation if you agree to it," Kelly insisted.
Nothing wrong? I remembered rumpled hair and sleepy eyes; I still shivered at the memory of Shepard's body pressed into mine and the way the tip of her nose burrowed into my neck. I wanted that back, wanted it so badly that agreeing to this offer should have been an easy decision.
Except none of it was real. Shepard didn't care for me; she no doubt rekindled things with Liara back on Illium. The thought of spending every night and every morning with that kind of temptation, that I might lose my control and be rejected...
"I will consider what you've said," I choked out, swallowing hard.
Kelly nodded but then cocked her head to the side. "I'm sorry for going behind her back to do this. And you can say no. I just didn't think the option should be ignored, not when there's a possibility for it to help."
To help Shepard, of course. Not that I blamed her. Helping Shepard is what we were all here for.
Kelly joined me in the elevator, and we rode to the third deck together in silence, separating as she continued on to the second deck. I stepped out and walked straight to the coffee maker out of habit, retrieving a cup from the overhead cabinet. My favorite one was hidden, shuffled purposefully to the back, and was the only one available without a Cerberus logo on its side. It was the smallest oversight, a flaw in the cup's manufacturing, but it made it unique amongst the others.
It was also the same cup Shepard used to bring me coffee. Not a coincidence, surely.
Everything had begun to revolve around Shepard—my responsibility, my creation, my...friend. If she wasn't sleeping, the solution must come from me, preferably without involving myself in her bed.
This was no different than the dozens of setbacks I'd encountered before while building her, no different than using cybernetics when nerve implantation wouldn't take. Yes, the cybernetics would need to be replaced eventually—today, certainly, there were unfortunate side effects of their use—but they did allow for performance, which was what we needed.
I set my cup down with a jolt. Shepard willingly participating in counseling, I realized, was like attempting to use healthy, lab-grown nerve tissue: it was the best, long-term solution. However, when a long-term solution doesn't work, a suitable alternative is needed—just like the cybernetics. Personal feelings aside, I was the cybernetics in this new setback. The issue would be to get Shepard to understand that.
I would need to use a different analogy.
I poured my coffee finally and threw a few of Shepard's favorite pastries into the toaster before gathering it all onto a tray and stepping into the elevator again. The machine arrived at the top deck, the doors sliding to darkness only broken by the dim light of the Commander's door control. I pressed my fingers against it, and the metal plates slid apart with a whirr.
I looked around in confusion, not seeing Shepard anywhere until the silence was broken with a low curse.
"What are you doing up here?" Shepard demanded, attempting to scramble up from where she'd been sprawled on the floor but only managing to partially prop herself up against the foot of the fish tank.
Her righteous anger was further tarnished by the fact that her nonfunctioning arm was pinned to her side by a crooked sports bra, her upper arm only partially through the opening. Which meant she was also half-naked, and it was understandably distracting. And adorable, considering her predicament. Not that I was in any way entertaining such observations because I was here in a strictly professional capacity.
I bit the inside of my cheek and set the tray I carried down on her desk. "Need a hand?"
Shepard stared at me for a moment longer, then down to her limp arm. "Good to know you have a sense of humor," she deadpanned.
"I have my moments," I demurred shortly. "The offer was serious, however."
When she nodded, emerald eyes following my movements warily, I stepped forward and began to pull the stretchy material of the sports bra away from her body until the two of us could maneuver her arm through the proper opening. I leaned in to smooth out the material in the back before extracting my hands, the tips of my fingers tingling even with my gloves.
Shepard positioned her arm in her lap as I retrieved her shirt. "You know you don't have to do shit like this. This isn't a normal mission, but that doesn't mean this is in your job description."
"My orders are to ensure that you succeed," I said levelly. I kneeled down again to help Shepard ease the thin t-shirt over her arms and then her head. "The 'at any cost' was implied."
Shepard smiled, just a brief quirk of her lips at the statement while she straightened the shirt along her torso. "Yes, but I imagine you thought that only applied to our veritable suicide mission, not caretaking."
I hummed noncommittally, wrinkling my nose at the memory of various bodily fluids I'd dealt with over two years of operating on her. Not to mention the sponge baths and awkward teeth brushing. Cerberus had hired assistants to do those sorts of things, but some days her condition had felt too fragile to trust anyone else in the room. Helping Shepard get dressed didn't even rank against some of the more uncomfortable things I'd done for her.
I took too long to respond, caught up in my thoughts, until I looked down and realized I was still crouched over her, staring. I could see the shiver that rippled across her skin, the chill in the air leaving the tiny hairs standing up along her arms as her green eyes sparkled with the low glow of the aquarium light.
If I were a foolish woman, it might have been the perfect moment to kiss her. I longed to trace my fingers along her collarbone, then tangle them into her hair, and I wondered when, when these feelings had gotten so completely out of hand. But the way Shepard looked at me sometimes—the way she was looking at me just now—made me think that maybe she felt something too, that she might let me. Shepard caught her bottom lip with her teeth, and for a few seconds, I honestly considered.
But I was not a foolish woman. I was not going to pursue a woman who wasn't available, and I definitely wasn't going to jeopardize our mission because I couldn't control my feelings. I pushed straight to my feet, moving to retrieve the pastries I'd set aside moments ago.
"Here," I said, holding them towards her. "I thought you might need it after today."
Shepard plucked one of the pastries from the plate and held it up to the light. Her eyes flickered over to me, face unreadable.
"You do realize these are burned. Like really burned," Shepard stated. She brought the pastry to her face and sniffed experimentally.
"Cooking isn't one of my strong suits," I replied.
"It's not even cooking. The toaster literally does all the work for you. How did you even…"
"You don't have to eat it," I interrupted.
I held out a hand for her to give it back, but Shepard sunk a defiant bite into the pastry.
"No take-backs on gifts," came her muffled declaration around a mouthful. She grinned cheekily after swallowing the bite and added, "So what did you come up here for Miranda? I'm sure EDI didn't alert you just because I couldn't get a shirt on."
"I did attempt to contact you, Operative Lawson," EDI announced. "However, the Commander gave me explicit orders not to."
Shepard scowled at the image of EDI that popped up next to the fish tank. "That's fine, EDI," I replied. "And I came up here at Miss Chambers' request, actually."
Shepard stiffened, the muscles of her shoulders going visibly taut. "I ordered her not to go to you with that," Shepard growled. "Ordered her."
"Insubordination can be dealt with. It does not, however, make her conclusions less valid."
"Miranda, she suggested you sleep up here. In my bed. With me," Shepard sputtered. "I'm not going to ask you to do that. I'm in a position of power over you, and that makes it wildly inappropriate."
"It's necessary," I challenged.
Shepard's eyebrows pulled down sharply as her mouth scrunched up. "I'd never make you do something you're uncomfortable with. Not something like this."
"And yet, I had every opportunity to ignore the suggestion," I replied.
Shepard turned away and stopped at her desk, running a finger along the wing of a partially smashed ship model. With a start, I realized it was the Normandy SR-1, picked up as a gift from Garrus during one of our stops.
"If it's my presence you find offensive, an alternative can be arranged," I offered, my stomach sinking when she was silent, and I kept the distance between us by sinking onto the edge of the bed instead of approaching the desk. "Perhaps it's just a reaction to having a physical presence next to you. In that case, I'm sure Tali or even Garrus would be willing to assist. You trust them."
"No," Shepard objected sharply. "It has to be you. Wait, I mean…" She made a noise of disgust in her throat. "The entire situation is ridiculous. I'm not a child in need of a nightlight. I shouldn't need someone else just to stay asleep."
I understood the sentiment: that voice that said the only person you could depend on was yourself. It was the same mentality that the Illusive Man had chastised me for more times than I could count. Humanity has always been stronger together, he would say. However, I doubted Shepard would appreciate advice originating from the Illusive Man.
I crossed my legs and folded my hands on my knees. "Do you have a better suggestion?"
She was silent, steadfastly facing the wall instead of me, until the wing of the ship model cracked even further under her fingers. Then she turned, biting her lip. "Is it possible to erase memories?"
"Erase…?" I trailed off, shocked at idea.
Yes. The answer was yes. More importantly, it was possible for me to erase her memories right now on this ship should Shepard truly wish it. But it would also be going against everything I'd worked for in her reconstruction: Shepard without her memories wasn't Commander Shepard.
"No more secrets...I want to trust you, Lawson," Shepard's words came trickling back to me, extinguishing the lie on my tongue.
"Specific memories, mind you. I'd like to keep most of them," Shepard continued, and my held breath rushed out in a sigh before I swallowed hard in relief. "I know you could figure something out if you wanted to, Miranda."
"In theory...yes. The odds of success, however, would be low against the very high risk of destroying all of your memories by accident. The asari have been successful in using their melding abilities to pinpoint memories, but as far as I know, it's not widely done," I answered. I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat, but it didn't help the swirling discomfort still present in my stomach. I didn't want to destroy Shepard.
The bed dipped down as Shepard joined me on its edge, near enough that it sent me sliding closer to her.
"Damn it," Shepard muttered. Her fingers played in the fabric of her pants. "Everything I've done, but I can't will away some stupid nightmares? I feel like I'm moving through a fog; I'm so tired. But this isn't something I know how to fight."
My gloved fingers covered hers before I fully thought through the action. "You fight it with help," I answered. "Besides, this doesn't have to be anything more than what it is: a work arrangement."
Shepard furrowed her eyebrows. "But it's every night, Miranda. You might as well move up here."
She looked uncomfortable at the idea, fingers twitching under mine.
"I'll only be up here to sleep," I corrected. "We both require our space, and if it's all the same to you, Commander, I'd prefer the crew not know. EDI can help me slip from my room to the elevator unseen."
"Boundaries, right?" Shepard asked, referring to the earlier debriefing.
"Boundaries," I agreed.
Shepard laced our fingers together and squeezed, offering a wan smile. "Then, I guess I don't have any other objections. Or options, really," she said. "But thank you for doing this."
"Like I said, I'm here to make sure you succeed, Shepard," I replied, pulling my hand away reluctantly and standing up.
I could have made my way down to my room on the lower deck to get dressed and ready for bed, then waited for EDI to tell me when the mess was empty so I could get to the elevator. But with how empty my own closet was, surely Shepard had something of mine in her own.
I found all of the clothing Shepard had 'borrowed' from me neatly hung and organized on the left side of her closet. I rolled my eyes and grabbed a shirt and my favorite sweatpants that had gone missing last week, ignoring the crooked smirk that was drawn across Shepard's face while she watched.
"Why do you take my things?" I found myself asking, holding the clothing against my chest as I turned.
Shepard looked surprised but then shrugged with a frown. "Force of habit, I suppose."
"Habit? I find it hard to believe the Alliance would allow such a thing in one of their officers," I replied, and Shepard snorted, flopping down onto the bed.
"It's called privilege," Shepard answered.
"What?" I asked.
"Privilege," Shepard repeated slowly, as if I hadn't heard her, and I narrowed my eyes. "My father was a war hero, my mother is a respected captain, and she is also a personal friend of Admiral Hackett and several nasty politicians. She may not have cared about me very much, but she did care about her reputation. She pulled every string in the book to make sure none of my nasty habits ever reached the light of day."
"Oh," I said, reading between the lines. "You did it to get back at her."
Shepard hummed noncommittally but otherwise was silent.
"I do know a thing or two about rough parental relationships," I continued, and Shepard nodded with a grimace. "Why only me?"
Shepard laughed, teeth flashing until she bit her lip. "You were the most fun?" she tried. "And really the only one I could afford to piss off. It's not like you were going to leave–" the way her voice broke slightly on the word made something clench hard in my chest– "because, at the beginning, that would have been giving me exactly what I wanted."
"And we wouldn't want that, would we?" I replied. I didn't entirely understand, especially why she had only targeted me. After all, if she wanted someone who wouldn't leave, she had Garrus or Tali on the ship as well. But then Shepard laughed again, and my own mouth curved up in response, and suddenly, it didn't matter.
I held up the clothes in my hands to indicate I was going to change and slipped into the bathroom. When I emerged, Shepard was already on the right side of the bed, the covers tucked in around her. I walked to the left side, steps more confident than I felt, and my fingers fumbled slightly as I pulled the blankets back.
We glanced at each other once I was settled, silence stretching awkwardly between us, but eventually, I rolled to my side and closed my eyes, my nose filled with the sweet smell that clung to the borrowed pillow. Shepard clicked off the light and huddled down into the covers next to me, and I smiled at the barest moan of happiness she released as her head hit the pillow.
I drifted off faster than I imagined I would, only slogging my way back to consciousness when I felt fingers brushing the hair away from my face. Shepard's fingers touched lightly against the wound on my neck before the backs of them swept against my cheek in a caress before retreating to her sigh.
I let the moment pass, dismissing any thoughts of letting her know I was awake, but I did smile when she shifted ever so slightly to my side of the bed, a strange, fluttering happiness following me all the way into my dreams.
Um, sorry? This took a ridiculously long time. I started a new job and had trouble managing my time. So first off, I really enjoyed writing Miranda and TIM's relationship. Yes, he's fucking awful, no one is disputing that. However, she's worked with him for most of her adult life at this point; there's no way she's not going to have second thoughts about all the doubts creeping up on her now. I would love to hear what all of you are thinking about that part.
Also, I recognize that a lot of people don't like Jacob Taylor. I can just hear the screaming already that I gave him a long conversation. But this is a dude that Miranda fucking Lawson thought was worth her time to date; so I just don't believe the bland awful character that Bioware wrote for him. And that weird flirting that they made Femshep do around him, even when you weren't romantically involved. *shudder* So I'm trying to give Miranda's past history with him its full weight, is what I'm saying.
I spent a reallllly long time debating on whether Miranda helping Shepard with her sleeping issues was a good idea. So I hope I crafted the reasoning in a way that's believable. (Also, the two ladies trapped in a bed together night after night? 10/10 would recommend).
Also, how interested would everyone be in adding Tali/Garrus to this fic?
I'd love to hear what everyone thinks! There's still several chapters to come, but I think we're definitely over the halfway mark now (not all missions will be fully written out, kind of like Kasumi's). Thanks for everyone who fav's follows, or reviews! Those notifications make all the effort worthwhile, so THANK YOU.