Chapter 24: We Don't Need Luck
Miranda
Just a bit further. You can do this. Keep going.
At that point, it was hard to tell whether the voice floating in my head was Samara or simply my own encouraging me to continue to put one foot in front of the others as I sprinted on the treadmill. Sweat trickled down my back and stung my eyes when beads dropped from my forehead. I could taste the salt on my lips.
I looked longingly at the rest of the team performing simple drills in the combat simulator.
Keep going.
That time the voice was definitely Samara's. I glared at her and instantly regretted the waste of energy involved with lifting my chin, but I at least saw that Samara's face was twisted with my discomfort as I continued into my tenth mile. It was only fair, after all, yet she only had to bear the pain, push it out of her mind. I had to force my body into still moving forward.
It had been a bloody long time since I'd run this much.
I heard about your spectacle on Pragia. That you were able to control reave even in anger speaks well of you.
There was a flash of a memory in my head, a strong one, slipping through the connection between Samara and myself before she had a chance to control it. A young asari—very young, teenager kind of young, the memory supplied—played with model spaceships, the bodies bobbing in the air with the lift of her biotics. Morinth, the name came to me. Morinth scowled when another child ran up and grabbed a plane with a squeal of glee, darting away quickly with her prize. Then the child screamed for an altogether different reason as she dropped to the ground in pain, red-violet ribbons constricting around her body.
Samara's hand felt as if it were my own when, suddenly, we were across the yard, grabbing Morinth by the arm and hauling her away from the other child. Her sister. I shivered at the satisfaction in Morinth's eyes when she looked up at me, at Samara, at her own mother.
The memory was ripped away from me, and my feet stumbled against each other on the treadmill for a few seconds before I regained my rhythm, now uncomfortable for an entirely different reason. Samara looked back at me steadily, and I pushed onward, complying with our unspoken agreement to not address knowledge we gained by accident over the meld. I was certainly grateful for the discretion given that I'd slipped up far more than Samara in our few training sessions, not as used to guarding my mind as she was.
Now, Samara ordered from in front of me. Attack.
I gathered my biotics and flung an arm out, the same red-violet ribbons that had been in Samara's memory springing out in the direction I pointed. I felt for her blood vessels, starting with her arms as we'd practiced, while continuing to move my feet. It was just the slight tingling at first, and I didn't push it as I moved my biotics to encompass her legs as well.
My legs faltered on the treadmill as my attention strayed away from them, and I reacted by lashing out with the biotics I already had engaged. Samara gave a yelp of pain, and white hot flames engulfed my body as it careened over the meld. My chin hit the treadmill display before the still moving belt flung me off the machine and into the wall behind me.
I groaned, tasting blood in my mouth and steel on my tongue where my face pressed to the floor.
"Watching that never gets old," Jack quipped from across the room with a grin as I slowly pushed my torso upright with palms raw from the impact.
The training program simulated the sound of a gun firing, then blared the alarm of a team member down. An 'X' appeared over Jack's name on the display.
"One less to worry about!" Garrus called, his head poking up from a balcony (which was really a holographic balcony projected on some stacked cargo). "Stop getting distracted, Jack."
"I don't blame her. Such a lovely distraction," Kasumi purred, eyes dragging across me, and I realized that my skid across the floor had twisted my training tank up to my chest, exposing the bottom of my sports bra and the entire expanse of my sweat-covered stomach. I yanked the material down with a scowl.
"Fucking Christ," Zaeed exclaimed, docking his gun upright against his shoulder. "Is every woman on this ship gay?"
"If by gay you mean that none of us are going to fuck your ugly ass, then yes," Jack sneered.
Zaeed roared with laugher just as Shepard snapped, "Focus, you three. We aren't done yet."
Shepard strode over after they returned to the drill, offering a hand to help me off the floor. I stared at the strong, slender fingers of her proffered hand for a moment too long, and Shepard dropped it back to her side, eyebrows furrowing.
She looked between Samara and myself in confusion as Samara cleared her throat louder than necessary, which, admittedly, I deserved since I'd been accidentally assaulting her over our meld all morning. All because Shepard had gravitated to my side of the bed for the first time since we'd formally agreed on our arrangement a week ago, and I'd woken with her breath in my hair and her leg thrown over mine. She'd curled around me so her chin nuzzled into the back of my shoulder, and just the memory of that warmth, that pure pleasure of waking up to Shepard kept popping up at the most inopportune times, dragging at my concentration.
Like now. I looked to my right, and bloody hell, Samara was smiling at me because of course the one thing I hadn't perfected yet was keeping my thoughts shielded. Bloody asari and their melds. Shepard just stared at the two of us.
I raised my arm this time, flicking my wrist in a quick circle to indicate I was ready for her to help me up now. Shepard smirked in amusement at the motion before taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. Her touch lingered on my forearm before stepping away, igniting a responding flutter of warm that spread to my chest.
Shepard ordered everyone back to their positions as I righted myself and let her go, but not without a last parting glance for me, something strange and indecipherable flickering in her eyes.
"Come," Samara ordered, sinking into a seated position as her biotics lifted her up. "We'll finish with meditation."
I hastened to follow her, sighing in relief when she broke the meld and released my mind to my own thoughts. I floated over to 'sit' across from Samara, but my biotics wavered when a large weight dropped to the ground next to me. The impact shuddered across the cargo bay.
"Grunt," I said, arching an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"
"I'm meditating," he stated sagely, shutting his eyes pointedly.
"Likely the first krogan ever to do so," I commented dryly.
Grunt cracked one eye open to glare at me before shutting it again in a huff. He fidgeted in place, looking uncomfortable in his attempts to mediate.
"Shepard said I needed to cool off," Grunt explained gruffly.
"Ah," I accepted.
The krogan had been exceptionally irritated as of late, and I could find no medical reason for it. His change in attitude was the reason we were currently hurtling through space to Tuchanka, though officially it was because I'd moved Mordin's request—which was conveniently on the krogan homeworld—to the top of the list. I could ask the krogan about Grunt's condition while Shepard helped Mordin find a missing assistant of his.
"Concentrate," Samara scolded us. "The point of the exercise is control."
"I have excellent control," I retorted. Wasn't that the very reason Samara had agreed to teach me?
"Your focus is too selective," Samara explained. She waved to the room at large. Simulated explosions sounded around us as the rest of the team continued their imagined assault, the air filled with heavy breathing mixed with the horrid rasping of Reaper husks. "I have no doubt that I could place a computer in front of you here and you would write your reports without a single glance about you. You have a single minded focus that is impressive, and typically that focus is helpful when learning reave."
I raised an eyebrow. "But?"
Samara gave a small smile. "You have yet to effect a reave on the whole body without losing intensity in one of its parts. You must learn to focus on everything, while also not focusing on one thing too much. It is difficult for you."
I bristled. "It is not difficult; it is simply new."
"You forget I have melded with you," Samara countered with a slight sigh. She closed her eyes again, falling back into the meditation. "It is not so easy to lie to me as it is to lie to yourself."
I looked to see Grunt grinning at me, shrugging when I frowned, and I slammed my eyes closed again, determined to focus the way Samara instructed. Still, same as earlier, I found my attention snagged by the movement of Grunt's armor when he fidgeted or by heavy wallop of biotics as Jack slung her powers around the room, and I had to push my brain to take in everything once more. Feet slapping against the metal floor, Jacob rolling into cover, the slight tinkling noise Kasumi's tactical cloak made when it engaged, Grunt's armor: I was supposed to hold them all in my mind at once.
I gritted my teeth when I inevitably lost track, huffing through my nose.
"Meditation does not require so much energy," Samara said, serenely.
"It does for me," I rejoined, frustrated.
Samara laughed: a small, soft noise. "You do not know how to relax. It is the same in battle."
"I hardly see why I should be relaxed when I'm being shot at," I replied.
"No, but you should learn to be calm," Samara answered. "Otherwise…"
I felt an omni-blade press at my throat, and I gasped in surprise, eyes flying open. Samara's voice was at my ear.
"...you miss the obvious."
Damn it, I swore as Samara floated away, hovering back in front of me again. Her eyes were still closed, but a small smile graced her features. I scowled at her.
"Jack is not the only one easily distracted today," Samara stated eventually. "It is unlike you."
Was I? Well, it wasn't every day we were told that Cerberus had tracked down a useable IFF, or so the Illusive Man believed. Once we had that, we would be able to proceed to our final goal: attacking the Collector Base and completing—or failing—our mission. However, Shepard's announcement that we were getting so close to the end, well, prompted several requests from team members.
We'd just spent two days docked on the Citadel: for last upgrades to the Normandy and for Thane's request to handle a personal matter. The drell had asked for the stop but refused any help. That is, until Shepard had been called down to the precinct to bail him out of a jail cell. Yet, Thane had arrived back on the ship before push off, and I gathered by his calm that his business had otherwise gone well.
I didn't pry any further, had no real need to. He'd helped me escape from a bloody trunk, so if he wished to mysteriously disappear for two days on 'business' he was welcome to. Besides, I would find out the truth in Shepard's report. When she decided to send it.
Tali had officially requested a stop by the Flotilla. The quarian had been on edge for days, snapping at simple comments, so presumably whatever business she had there was important. Then there was Mordin asking for us to rescue his assistant who'd been kidnapped by krogan, and finding a diagnosis for Grunt while we were on the planet. Even Samara had mentioned that she had a matter to discuss.
So, yes, naturally, work had been distracting.
Samara gave me a knowing look when my gaze also drifted over to Shepard because, admittedly, the commander was also part of my distraction, something the asari matron had seen first-hand through my thoughts. I'd been almost relieved by the long list of things to be done before retrieving the Reaper IFF, that we still had more time, when I should have been irritated that personal requests were keeping us from our final goal.
However, I simply couldn't find it in myself to be irritated, not when I longed for more mornings like the one I'd woken to today, with Shepard sleeping peacefully with me, her body folded around mine. She'd kept her distance every other night—it was a professional arrangement, after all—so I wasn't sure what had changed, only that I didn't mind it at all.
It was confusing: how my body betrayed me around her. Sex was one thing, easy even. The last time I'd woken up to her draped across me, I'd definitely wanted to have sex with her. It was the number one thing on my mind: thoughts of kissing my way down and waking her with my mouth. I bit my lip at the idea before shaking my head. But this morning, this morning had been different. It wasn't sexual. It was...safe, soothing, and I'd wanted to stay even as I'd scrambled out of the bed so Shepard wouldn't know.
I sighed as the ship shuddered underneath us.
"We've reached Tuchanka," Joker announced over the ship's speakers. "It's...just as ugly from orbit."
Grunt snorted, and Shepard called a halt to the practice. Samara and I dropped to our feet and joined the group that gathered around Shepard for orders.
"Food first, then gear up. Biotics eat a double," Shepard ordered. Her eyes flickered to me. "No exceptions."
Shepard waited as Grunt and Jack jostled their way onto the first elevator up with Zaeed, Mordin, and Thane while Garrus, Tali, and Samara waited for the next one. Kasumi was already out of sight, and Jacob marched off to use a ladder instead of waiting for the elevator.
"I have a bad feeling about today," Shepard muttered, squeezing my shoulder as we joined the three waiting for the elevator.
"No offense to the krogan, but I think everyone gets a bad feeling about landing on Tuchanka," Garrus quipped from the front.
"I'm certain everything will be fine, Commander," I added.
"Well, if you're certain," Shepard replied, one corner of her mouth curling up. "I guess there's nothing to worry about."
XXXX
Garrus
Tali shuffled out from under the truck, poking an arm out just enough to wave for my attention.
"Could you hand me the–?"
I held the wrench out that Tali was looking for, and she patted my foot, the only part she could reach from her position, in thanks.
"Read my mind," she said, scooting back under.
I smiled at the gesture and wondered if she was smiling too, her face blocked not only by the shuttle but by the ever present visor of her environmental suit. I settled myself back against the large tire of the tomkah truck and wiped in futile frustration at the dust settling on my armor before returning to staring blankly at the shattered concrete of the wall in front of me. Metal clicks and squeals emanating from the underside of the truck provided the soundtrack for my thoughts.
Krogan looked at me, a turian, with suspicion as they walked by. A varren had even taken a snap at me earlier. Which was uncalled for, really. At least Wrex, now the Urdnot clan leader here on Tuchanka, had been warm enough when he'd greeted us.
"How do you even know how to fix this?" I inquired, rolling my head to watch Tali's feet wave back and forth as she worked.
"I'm a quarian. Don't you know? If it's mechanical and useful, we can figure out how to work it," she quipped.
I rolled my eyes even though she couldn't see. "Yes, but that krogan mechanic seemed perfectly capable."
"He wanted us to find another combustion manifold," Tali scoffed, her words muffled under the vehicle. "It's not like there's an unlimited number of trucks, and there's no time to go searching through scrap metal. I refuse to risk flying a Cerberus shuttle on this planet with trigger-happy krogan."
"Not to mention Shepard looked at you and said 'fix it.' Spirits forbid you ever admit you can't fix something," I replied.
Tali used her feet to drag herself forward, the wheeled board she lay upon crunching with the gravel. Her head poked out from the underside.
"I can fix this. You wait," Tali declared.
"You remember I did all of the work on the old Normandy's Mako? I could give you a hand?" I offered.
Tali was already back under the truck when she answered, "I do not need your help, Garrus." Rusted metal screamed at her manipulations, and then she continued, "But thank you for the offer."
I cracked a smile, shaking my head fondly. "Alright then. Let me know when you're done."
My head shot up at the sound of others approaching.
"I would like to go on record as being completely opposed to this idea," Shepard's growl echoed around the corner, followed by the woman herself with Miranda at her right elbow.
"Grunt made the decision," Miranda stated. She jerked to a stop as Shepard stopped walking and whirled to face her. Shepard's eyes flashed.
"You volunteered yourself, and Grunt adores you. Of course he named you as his krantt," Shepard seethed.
I stayed still and heard Tali stop her work on the truck, both of us eavesdropping intently while we were still unnoticed by the commander and her XO. We'd discovered Grunt's irritable behavior had been facilitated by a form of krogan puberty, not an illness, and now, he was preparing to undergo his Rite of Passage. Krogan were allowed to bring their krantt, otherwise known as trusted allies, into battle with them, and while the number of allies allowed wasn't specified, the unspoken rule was to only bring two. Young krogan weren't expected to have developed a large krantt yet.
The only issue being that Grunt hadn't chosen Shepard as part of his krantt.
"I doubt there's anything this Rite could throw at us that Grunt, Jack, and I can't handle. It will be fine," Miranda said.
"That's not the point. Damn it." Shepard blew a long breath out. "I wouldn't have chosen Jack. She's hardly spoken to you since Pragia. Who knows if she'll have your back in there," Shepard argued.
Miranda was silent for a long moment, the tension between the two of them visible even at a distance. "So what are you suggesting?" Miranda asked, her voice so low I had to strain to hear the words at all. "If you have an alternative, I'd love to hear it."
"Ask Grunt if he'll reconsider," Shepard answered.
Miranda's lips twitched. "By all means, if you don't believe we can do this, feel free to ask Grunt yourself," she replied coldly.
"Ouch," I whispered to Tali as Shepard flinched in response to Miranda's words.
"Shepard walked right into that one," Tali replied with a shake of her head as she rolled back under the vehicle. "It's actually kind of painful to watch."
Their conversation was cut short when Wrex barreled around the corner, followed by Grunt, who was so eager he was practically bouncing.
"It's almost time to drive out to the proving grounds," Wrex informed them. His sharp eyes found Tali and me over Shepard's shoulder.
My eyes widened as Shepard turned and followed his gaze to see Tali and me, a grimace stretching across her face as she realized we were within earshot. Tali rolled out from the underside of the truck to hop to her feet and lead the way over to the rest of the group.
"Fixed it," Tali announced as we joined them.
"Grunt," Shepard tried one last time, with barely an acknowledgement to Tali. "I don't understand why you don't want me with you. Am I not your commander?"
Grunt was silent for a moment. He nodded. "This is my Rite. My…test. And you are not meant to be a follower. You are a leader."
"Shepard," I inserted, grabbing her attention when it looked like she was ready to argue again. How much her influence had begun to affect others was not something Shepard fully realized, but I knew what it felt like. Viscerally. "It will mean more if your name is unattached to his accomplishment."
It was like I'd physically slapped her, she recoiled so sharply, but Miranda was already prepared at her side, moving with the same kind of supportive intuition that she showed on the battlefield, like with a well-placed barrier to soften the blow.
"Grunt wants to lead his own Rite. I hardly see why that would be insulting," Miranda interjected. Right, so perhaps she didn't soften the blow, but she did deflect it. Little difference, really.
"And how is it any different by having you on the team? He's been on Team Black with you as his leader," Shepard pointed out.
"Enough!" Grunt interrupted, straightening into his full height. "This is my decision."
His decision, his choice. Shepard stilled at the words, maybe feeling the same weight I was, the weight of Shepard saying, "I won't make this decision for you" less than a week ago. She exhaled through her nose and set her mouth. Then her hand darted out and hooked onto the lip of Grunt's chest plate, and Shepard yanked him down so close to her face that the krogan let out a low grumble of a growl.
"Second lesson outside of the tank," Shepard growled right back. "Your team is always more important than you." She leaned in even closer, letting her voice drop lower, but that didn't matter because we'd all gone so quiet in anticipation that I could hear the creaking exhale of Tali's suit. "Keep them alive, Grunt."
"I will," Grunt swore.
"Then good luck," Shepard finished, taking a step back, though she didn't look any happier than before.
"We don't need luck," Grunt declared, slamming his fists together.
Wrex laughed, breaking the slight tension. "Shepard does. The family of the whelp buys the first round during the festivities. Get your credit chit ready, Shepard."
"Curse this day into a black hole," Shepard murmured under her breath, waving her hand forward at the rest of us and stalking off to hop in the truck.
XXXX
The truck dropped us off at a large arena, the buildings broken and dilapidated, crumbling into the ground. But the majority of the ring was still standing, and an imposing tower still stood tall at the far end. Wrex led Shepard and the rest of us to the side of this tower where stone steps took us into a large seating area, faced out to the arena.
The whole ground crew had come to watch, even Samara and Thane, who'd seemed more comfortable on the ship than the harsh surface of Tuchanka. Zaeed sat a ways away with a krogan he'd befriended over alcohol, and Mordin hovered close to Shepard and, by extension, myself and Tali. For good reason, at least: the krogan surrounding us watched him like a hawk. Samara, Thane, and Kasumi made themselves comfortable on the other side of Tali. The thrum of excitement pulsed through us all, all but Jacob, who stared down at the area with a pinched look on his face from the back of the group.
Krogan filtered in in large crowds every single one decked out in full armor, guns gleaming in the sunlight on every hip and shoulder. Shepard drummed her fingers against the casing of the helmet in her lap, and I eyed the aging shield generator set up in front of the seats, the hum of it interrupted by a spontaneous pop every few seconds.
"The shield will hold," Wrex said gruffly, noting where my attention had gone. "We have our gear for the end. Have to go wrangle...some things." He paused and cocked his head to the side, grinning. "Usually. Not during my Rite though."
"Yes, we know, Wrex. You're the best krogan to ever krogan. We get it," Shepard quipped, rolling her eyes.
Wrex pointed a finger at her. "And don't you forget it. Just because you have some tank-bred hot shot now doesn't mean you'll ever replace me."
"Shut up. No one is being replaced. You were busy. Now tell me what the fuck is going to happen in this Rite. Why won't anyone talk about it?" Shepard demanded.
"It's not a trial if you know what's going to happen. You only get to watch the Rite after you've completed you own. Or, well, unless you aren't a krogan and you promise to keep your big mouth shut," Wrex grunted. He narrowed his eyes at Tali.
"Hey!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms. "I have no idea why everyone thinks I can't keep a secret."
"So that time you told everyone on the ship that I only had 3 testicles? That was you keeping a secret?" Wrex growled.
Tali had the decency to dip her head in shame. "I only told Garrus…"
Now it was my turn to scowl at Tali when Wrex's glare redirected to me. I held my hands in front of me to signal my surrender, and luckily, I was saved by the screeching of a microphone clicking on. A krogan I recognized as the shaman we'd spoken to earlier about Grunt stepped forward, holding his omni-tool at face height.
"Krogan and guests, it is time for the Rite to begin. We have gathered here to test the mettle of the one known as Grunt. Should he survive, he will be known to us as Urdnot Grunt," the shaman began. "There are three rounds, and you must adapt to each to prove you are worthy. If you are ready, we will begin."
Grunt let out a roar to show he was prepared, while Miranda simply loosed her gun from her hip, looking bored. Which was really just her usual face when she was forced to deal with other people, not to mention a large crowd. Jack grinned maniacally and hoisted her shotgun in the air, her yell mixing with Grunt's roar.
"Very well. All that's left is for you to–"
He paused and the krogan in the crowd stood as one, slamming their feet into the stone four times as they roared as one:
"Hit. The. Key. Stone!"
Grunt punched the keystone with gusto, and a voice played out over the intercom.
"First, the krogan conquered Tuchanka...and mastered a natural world only we are fit to hold!"
Growling came from a far corner, and we watched as a large pack of varren spilled from an enormous tunnel built into the side of the arena. The three moved forward as one, not bothering with cover when faced with a foe that fought only with tooth and claw. Grunt took the lead barreling through and scattering the beasts out of their loose formation, followed by a biotic shockwave courtesy of Jack. One varren made a lucky lunge onto the krogan's back but was unceremoniously yanked off with a pull from Miranda.
Jack shot the same varren full out of the arena with a swing of her arm and a burst of power. I could imagine the scowl Miranda's helmet hid.
Shepard turned to me, disbelief written over her face, before rolling her eyes fondly. "She's fucking showing off. In the middle of a fight," she groused.
Jack's little display had dissolved into the two biotics trying to outdo the other, turning the Rite into a temporary game of biotic ball. Grunt assisted enthusiastically, grappling the varren by their back legs and tossing them into the air for Miranda or Jack to slam them for a home run. They looked like they were having...fun together. Jack even clasped Miranda by the shoulder when she got a particularly good hit, that is, until she remembered herself and removed the hand awkwardly.
Wrex squinted down at the arena. "Where'd you even get that one?" he asked, pointing a giant finger down.
"Jack? The one with the tattoos?" Wrex nodded. "Prison," Shepard answered with a shrug.
"Don't know why I asked, honestly," he replied, with a shake of his head.
The second round began as Grunt, Miranda, and Jack regrouped, once again letting Grunt slam a fist into the keystone to start. This wave consisted of fire-breathing klixen, and the team fought more seriously than they had with the varren.
"And that one?" Wrex continued.
Shepard cracked a smile. "Miranda came with the ship." She also jammed a thumb over her shoulder at Jacob, looking mildly annoyed. "So did that one. They're like a package deal."
"What does that mean?" I interrupted, my brow plates pulling down.
Shepard cocked her own eyebrow. "It means I can't think of any reasons why he's here besides that Miranda wanted him and he happened to survive Lazarus Station."
"He's sitting right there, Shepard," Tali mentioned, her tone almost embarrassed.
Jacob's response was distracted, his eyes never leaving the area and the three figures fighting within. He waved Tali off. "She's not wrong."
"See?" Shepard declared.
"Real sensitive," I scoffed, narrowing my eyes.
However, Wrex chose that moment to lean in alarmingly close and breathe in deep, just centimeters from Shepard's face. She flinched back and pushed at his head with an armored hand, face contorted in repulsion.
"Sniffing people is rude in human culture, Wrex," Shepard lectured. She crossed her arms. "You should know that by now."
Wrex chuckled, no remorse in sight. "I know something at least," he replied cryptically. He looked Shepard straight in the eyes. "Really Shepard? Cerberus?"
Shepard looked taken aback by the switch in topics. "Yeah, Wrex, Cerberus. I needed the resources, and the Alliance wasn't doing anything about the missing colonists," she answered slowly.
"I didn't mean that," he scoffed. He jerked his chin at the arena. "The girl. I can smell her on you."
Shepard's face went blank but then slowly flushed into a deep shade of red that went all the way down her neck and disappeared into her armor. She struggled to come up with an answer.
"We're in close quarters," I swooped in with the save, "and Miranda is the XO. They do a lot of planning together."
Relief spilled across Shepard's face, but Wrex didn't seem convinced.
"The same way she and Liara used to do a lot of 'research' together?" he asked wryly. I didn't have a reply for that, and if anything, Shepard's face managed to turn even redder. "I don't care about your personal life, Shepard. Just remember what Cerberus has done."
"I haven't forgotten." Her face darkened. "But not my crew," Shepard defended. The reply was swift and decisive, and I was surprised at the absence of hesitation in her voice as she jumped to their defense. "They're my people now, Wrex."
The large krogan sucked in a deep breath and nodded on the exhale. Then he clasped his hands together on the realization that the third round of the Rite was about to begin.
"This is going to be good!" he exclaimed.
A giant thresher maw exploded from the ground just outside the arena walls, and the blood drained from Shepard's face. The monster screeched and lobbed acid at our team, sending them scrambling for cover, Miranda separated from the rest.
Shepard turned to me, her face hard.
"I told you I had a bad feeling about today."
Concrete went flying as the thresher maw discovered it could, in fact, break through the arena floor.
XXXX
Miranda
I was starting to really dislike enclosed spaces.
I choked on the concrete dust clouding the air, lungs struggling to fill as I put every ounce of strength I had into holding the large slab of concrete from crushing me. My biotics were already flickering and shuddering with the effort.
I could hear Grunt straining to pull at the weight from above, but it didn't lift even an inch. I wasn't sure where Jack was, but the numbers under her name on my HUD were low, bleak even. Hopefully, she was keeping her head down. She wasn't equipped for a one woman assault on a thresher maw.
Never thought I'd see the day when I was worrying about Jack.
"Miranda, I can't lift this," Grunt growled over the comms.
"Cheerleader, stop fucking around," Jack snapped. Well, I definitely wasn't worrying about her anymore. "Use the drugs and move your ass. I'm tired of playing worm target."
She meant the Minagen X3 that Shepard had now insisted we carry on missions. It would be useful, of course, if the vial weren't currently in with my other medical supplies, safely tucked away in an armor compartment. I would have to drop at least one arm to try and reach for it, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to hold the concrete without both arms directing my biotics. My biceps quavered to make their point.
"I can't reach it. Jack..." I paused. A bead of blood rolled down my top lip and into my mouth, and I tasted the sharp tang of blood with frustrated understanding: I'd already hit the first stage of biotic exhaustion. "Jack, I need your help."
Her only answer was silence, and for a moment, while my tongue felt grit on my teeth and tasted cement and blood on my lips, I considered that perhaps Shepard had been right. Maybe it had been foolish to think Jack would 'have my back,' even after my apology. Perhaps especially because of my apology. But I'd felt confident because nothing had changed in practice. Jack occasionally fought my orders, because that's what Jack does, but she hadn't left. She hadn't left, and I'd half expected her to, now that it seemed fairly obvious Cerberus and I were not seeing eye to eye, now that no one would hunt her down.
It was absolutely irrational for her to stay, and yet here she was, listening to me ask her for help for the first time (and might I add last time if I had anything to say about it) instead of running away to do...whatever it was she was doing before prison.
Strange, to say the least.
Bright light stung my eyes as biotics joined my own and finally lifted the concrete slab the last meter it needed to be flung to the side. Jack offered a hand, managing somehow to make even that gesture seem begrudging.
"You're welcome," Jack muttered, reaching down and grabbing my arm when I didn't take her offered hand. My shoulders protested the movement after finally getting to relax. We stumbled together into the nearest cover, dodging a spray of acid that bubbled into the ground a few paces behind us. Grunt slid in after us, and his weight caused the low wall to shake.
"Thanks," I acknowledged, and Jack stared at me flatly.
"Don't mention it," she answered. I had a feeling she meant that literally. "Now what are we going to do about that?" She jabbed her chin in the thresher maw's direction as if either of us needed help figuring out what she was referring to. "I say we just let the timer run out. It's almost there. The thing said to survive, and that's what we're doing."
"We can kill it," Grunt insisted. "We still have time left."
Jack grabbed Grunt by his armor like Shepard had done earlier, but the krogan didn't give to Jack's pull. "I didn't say yes to this just to get our asses kicked," Jack sneered.
Grunt pried her fingers from his armor with comic ease, dropping her arms back to her side with a scowl. The thresher maw spit more acid at our wall, and I coughed at the fumes wafting up from the melting concrete.
"If my krantt won't follow–" Grunt growled at the ground.
"No," I said vehemently, already cursing myself as Garrus' words came bubbling up, making me stupid and sentimental. "Jack, we're teammates, and that means–" that when one of us gets sent back to the ship in shame, we don't go alone– "helping each other. It means saving my sister or blowing up a secret Cerberus facility. And today it means killing that bloody thresher maw."
"Well, unless that big bubbly butt is hiding a rocket launcher, I'm not sure how we're going to kill that oversized worm. Because bringing heavy weapons is cheating," Jack sneered with a snort. "Says the people who nuked each other into oblivion."
"We don't need a rocket launcher," Grunt argued.
The two of them dissolved into squabbling, but I'd stopped truly listening right after Jack said 'oversized worm.' Because worm. The thresher maw worked just like a worm. It moved like a worm, and worms had closed circulatory systems. More importantly, worms had simple closed circulatory systems.
"I can use reave," I said suddenly.
"And we're all thrilled about your new skill, Cheerleader, but try to keep up with the conversation," Jack snapped.
I rolled my eyes and glared at her with a new lift to my chin. "No, I can reave the thresher maw. Keep it still long enough for you and Grunt to get in close enough to actually do some damage," I replied. "I'm too far to do it from here though."
"We could throw you," Grunt offered.
My jaw shut with a snap.
"You're...serious?" I clarified, eyes wide.
"Jack practiced it with Shepard. Wanted to see if it would work," Grunt said.
I turned to Jack, who looked unusually skeptical in the face of an offer to literally throw me at a thresher maw. "So it worked? With Shepard? Without injuring her?" I asked.
"Yeah...across a short distance," Jack stated.
"But you could do it," I confirmed.
Jack narrowed her eyes at me. "Yeah, across a short distance." She pointed over her shoulder at the thresher maw. "That's not a short distance."
"Did Shepard ever try using her biotics to charge forward after Jack threw her? To get more distance?" I inquired.
Grunt looked at Jack then shrugged. "Never had enough room to try it."
I snuck a peek at the thresher maw, part of its body swaying back and forth above the surface while it waited for us to make another appearance, and shook my head in awe that I was actually considering this. This was insane.
"Look, much as I would usually enjoy flinging you into danger, this is crazy. I seem to remember you flying off a treadmill this morning during your reave practice. You can't–" Jack protested.
"I most certainly can," I countered. "Look, all you have to do is give me the boost, and I'll use my biotics to drop when I need. The only thing we're looking to do here is get me closer without being dissolved into acid, not throwing me straight at the thing. Can you do that?"
"Can you follow through?" Jack taunted.
"Well," I paused and offered an almost feral grin, "I do enjoy proving others wrong."
Jack actually laughed. "Fine. I did say I'd smear the walls with you," she said, and her biotics lit up around her. She let them flow down her arm to envelop me, the feel of it like cold, electric fingertips ghosting over my body. I shivered, and she smiled. "It's not quite the same, but I guess this'll have to do."
She cocked her arm back and threw me forward.
XXXX
Perhaps I should have thought longer on how viable a plan was if it involved biotically launching myself towards a large beast.
Viable enough for me to still be alive, it seemed.
"What?" I murmured, struggling to lift my arm so I could nestle my face into my elbows and block out the unnaturally bright light glaring down on me. "Why?"
A low chuckle sounded nearby. "Samara requested the sunlamps. She's apparently been doing research into the benefits of sunlight for humans. Something about your response to sunlight in a meld? She wouldn't say much more without breaching your privacy," Dr. Chakwas explained, stepping over to the medbay cot. I blinked at her through the smallest slit I created between my arms. "In any event, Samara seemed to think the sunlight would make you feel better." The doctor shrugged, an ungraceful movement for her. "It's not harmful so I allowed it while you're recovering."
"Did she also request sunscreen?" I grumbled into my arms. "My skin doesn't look like this because I tan well."
Another laugh.
"No need. It's only been a few minutes. Enough to placate her. I'll pack them away in a moment," Chakwas answered.
I paused, actually enjoying the heat on my skin. "Leave them a little longer. It's...nice," I said eventually. And it was: the sunlight and the fact that Samara had remembered how much I liked it. There had been an abundance of sunlight where I'd grown up. On the rare occasion I was allowed outside and left to my own devices, the sun had been my favorite part.
I turned my head to the side and was jolted out of my lazy musings by the sight of Jack in the nearby bed, a bandage covering most of her torso and another on her head. I bolt up and hissed at the twinge in my own leg.
"You'd do well to leave that alone," Chakwas said unnecessarily, nodding to my leg.
"Is she…?"
"Jack is fine. She experienced a few unfortunate encounters with the thresher maw's acid, as did you. Your body, however, is much faster at dealing with your injuries than hers. I'm keeping her sedated while the medicine does its work," the doctor informed me.
"And Grunt?" I asked.
Chakwas looked over my bed to the door, where the young krogan had just exited the elevator and was marching animatedly towards the medbay, before stating, "Is right here."
"Miranda!" Grunt called, excited, as he burst through the doorway, barely getting his shoulders through as the door slid open too slowly for him. He stopped by my bed, dropping to one knee so we'd be at eye level. "They said I had to wait until you woke up to tell you."
I raised an eyebrow. "Tell me what?"
"I am Urdnot Grunt," he exclaimed. The joy radiating from him managed to pull even my lips into a small smile as he thudded a fist against his chest.
"Congratulations," I said, one word colored with all my relief and gratitude that we'd succeeded.
"Urdnot Wrex asked me to choose a battlemaster," he confided.
"Of course," I replied.
The krogan's hands twisted at the edge of the bed, and a beat of silence passed between us. When I gave no other response, Grunt almost seemed disappointed. I chose not to guess what.
"I asked if I could have two," he said, and my breath caught, sending my treacherous heart fluttering against my ribcage. It overpowered even my initial affront at the idea he might chose me over the commander. Because certainly that wouldn't end well. Still, the thought that Grunt had tried to consider me...Well, in the past, I would have been dismissive, assured him in no uncertain terms that it was a horrible idea and that he meant nothing to me outside of our professional acquaintance. Now, however, while I caught the large krogan's uncertain gaze, I couldn't bring myself to do anything of the sort. If nothing else, I was actually somewhat flattered.
"You did," I responded flatly.
He nodded, but then the motion turned into a shake. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" I asked when my breath came back in. "Shepard is the best battlemaster for someone of your exceptional skills. You chose well."
Grunt grunted a laugh, his wide mouth curling into something that looked unusually shy on a krogan.
"Shepard is my battlemaster," he affirmed. He bumped his fist gently against my shoulder. "She has only one match."
My heart squeezed, and I bit out a soft curse—damn it—while I turned to the side. Grunt pretended to be interested in the wall, and I tried to recompose myself. All because of a juvenile krogan that, like too many others on this bloody ship, had managed to worm his way into my affections.
Speaking of which…
"Where's Shepard?" I asked.
"She's–" Grunt started to answer.
"–had some business to finish up on Tuchanka," Chakwas interrupted smoothly. She gave a meaningful glance at Grunt that might have been more effective had I not had a clear view of it.
Grunt gave the doctor a glare and finished, "–really pissed off at you. And me. She barely said two words outside of 'you're welcome' after I chose her as my battlemaster."
"Our mission was successful," I argued. "She should be pleased."
"You let your teammate throw you at a thresher maw. A beast Shepard has a notoriously bad history with," Chakwas drawled flatly. "She was positively thrilled."
There was a beat of silence.
"Well, I can see where Shepard got her sarcasm," I noted.
Chakwas laughed, a hearty sound. "That would be because you haven't met her real mother. Hannah would keep even you on your toes," the doctor replied. She sounded casual enough, but something about the way her voice hooked on the word real sent a pang of sympathy through me. I searched for the right response, but my silence stretched too long, and the moment passed, the doctor shrugging it off as she rummaged through a drawer. She retrieved a bottle of clear liquid.
"I'm going to flush your wound once more." She indicated the bottle in her hand. "To neutralize any remaining acid. Just to be sure. And you'll rest in medbay tonight." I lifted up on my elbows to protest, but a firm hand on my chest pushed me back down. "Again, just to be sure. You can get back to work tomorrow."
"Honestly," I grumbled, pushing back the blanket that stretched over me so she could get to my leg.
"I can give you a mild sedative to help you through the night, if you wish," Chakwas offered.
I stared up at the blank ceiling of the medbay and thought of an evening with no working, like relaxing the way Shepard had bullied me into, that afternoon after we returned from Pragia. But this time there would be no Shepard beside me, no fingers trailing through my hair or a rough chuckle every time I sighed. Just the beeping of machines and the disorienting smell of antiseptic.
"Might as well," I accepted.
There was the clinking of syringes as Chakwas rummaged through another drawer, a pause by my IV, and then the room faded out.
XXXX
"Did you have to sedate her?" Shepard asked, her voice echoing down to me like through a tunnel. I felt the warmth of her hand cover mine.
"I didn't give her much. Just enough to keep her down until her body naturally sleeps through the night."
"She hasn't had a great time with sedatives lately, doc," Shepard murmured.
Chakwas was silent for a moment.
"I offered, and she agreed," Chakwas replied. "She needed the uninterrupted rest, anyway."
Shepard sighed. "I know. Just...after that business with her father...and, I mean, you've seen how twitchy she gets when she's a patient."
Discomfort settled in my stomach at her assessment. I'd thought I'd been more subtle.
"Which may be why she agreed to the sedative." Chakwas paused. "Miss Lawson really is perfectly fine."
"Yeah. I know." Shepard hummed, her thumb making circles on the back of my hand. "I'm gonna stay a moment longer. I'll close up, if you'd like to go to sleep," Shepard offered.
"Thank you." I heard Chakwas' steps get closer and the brush of cloth. A hug? "It's nice, being on the same ship again. Goodnight, Evelyn," she said. She breathed the name out in a whisper, and I felt Shepard's hand tighten over mine.
"Night," Shepard muttered.
Chakwas' footsteps receded from the room, and the room sunk into silence save for the quiet beeping of machines and faint breathing. It was harder for me to keep my small bit of awareness instead of slipping back into dreams, but Shepard's voice pulled me from the edge.
"I wonder how many nights you sat like this when our positions were reversed," Shepard murmured. She interlaced our fingers. "Well, it's not really a wonder. I know. I think. Or maybe they're just dreams. But they feel real." Her words jolted me into more consciousness, until I had to will my heartbeat to slow to keep the monitors from registering a change in my pulse.
"You were holding my hand the first time I woke up. You did that a lot. The touching, I mean, especially when you were muttering to yourself. And you used to sleep at my bedside. One time you used my stomach as a pillow, and it was the most exciting thing to happen to me all week." She laughed, and if I opened my eyes I felt sure she'd be shaking her head in that way she did. "You talked to me. All the time, about everything. Mostly the science of rebuilding me, and I had no idea what you were talking about. But it kept me from going crazy. You even read me a book once. Granted, it was a god-awful book, and I hated it. But I appreciated the sentiment."
She sighed into the quiet room.
"Only thing is, I'm not entirely sure that's not just my head making up things. Was any of that real?" she whispered.
Her fingers brushed against my skin as she reached forward to push my hair off my face, and it was that, the soft affection, that caught the breath in my throat and sent something twisting in my chest. Something that felt nothing like friendship and a whole lot like waking up in her arms with our legs twined together, like the tip of her nose nuzzling into my neck and her hand splayed over my hip.
"Miranda, I know you're awake. The least you can do is answer me," Shepard murmured.
I blinked my eyes open slowly to see the amusement twisting Shepard's mouth in the dim lighting.
"Heart monitor?" I asked ruefully.
She nodded. "It's about time it betrayed you instead of me," she replied. We listened to the heart monitor beep quietly in the background until she prodded, "You haven't answered my question."
"I'm not sure why it matters. I obviously thought you wouldn't remember any of it," I replied faintly, then sighed, "I'm sorry about the book."
Shepard's face softened with the answer, and she brushed a thumb over my knuckles.
"It matters. More than you know," she murmured.
I did my best to roll more on my side without putting pressure on my leg and propped myself up on the pillows to look at her.
"Is there...a reason you're bringing this up now?" I asked.
Shepard looked surprised at the question and dropped my hand, leaning back in her chair. "I was trying to sleep, and...I don't know. I was just thinking about it, I guess."
"That desperate?" I teased, feeling bold with the darkness wrapped around us and the warmth I could see in her eyes. I shouldn't be pleased that she had trouble sleeping without me, but that didn't mean I wasn't.
"Desperate enough to overlook how angry I am?" she retorted. She sighed and pushed a hand through her hair. "I wish it were that easy. Miranda, as your commanding officer, I have to say that the stunt you pulled today was reckless and irresponsible. And I'm just...just so…"
I set my jaw, the reprimand leaching some of the warmth from me. "You would have done the same thing," I pointed out.
Shepard's eyes flicked up to the ceiling, like she was asking some entity for help, before she returned her gaze to me with an ever-deepening frown. "Maybe, but Miranda if something happens to you, there's no you to fix you. I'm supposed to take stupid risks so you people don't have to. Damn it, when Jack lifted you up, and I realized what she was about to do...I was terrified."
Her words took on a feverish pitch as she balled her fist into my blanket, squeezing tight. Then she sighed again, dropping her head.
"I promised myself I wouldn't yell at you," she muttered, shaking her head. Her eyes flicked up to me, and her mouth twisted into a wry grin. She huffed out a breath. "And I'll admit, it was also really impressive. You've been practicing reave for how long and you managed it on a thresher maw? I mean if I look past how scared I was and how reckless you were being, I'm also stupidly proud of you."
"Proud of me?" I repeated slowly, the words foreign in my mouth.
Shepard blinked before answering, "You were incredible. How could I not be?"
It was suddenly just that little bit harder to breathe when she was looking at me like that, emerald eyes gleaming and mouth tipped up in the barest hint of a smile. The fact that we were even here, that Shepard had gone from hating me to admitting she was proud of me, well, that was something I never expected to happen. Just like I never expected the squeeze of her fingers to set my heart racing or her smile and the way it scrunched the freckles over her nose to actually make my chest hurt with longing.
I may have rebuilt Commander Shepard, but I never expected her.
I kissed her, catching her tiny gasp of surprise against my lips and tugging her towards me with a hand wrapped into the front of her shirt. My other hand found the side of her neck, and I could feel her pulse flutter, frantic and intoxicating, under my fingertips. Shepard was soft and warm, and I wanted with a fierceness that I wasn't prepared for.
My heart began a slowly panicking thump in my chest when the minute stretched and she hadn't responded, but then Shepard parted her lips and kissed back with an intensity that had me gasping for breath. Her arms wrapped around me, and her hands slid up my back until they were curled up between my shoulder blades, pressing me to her with a desperation I could feel with every press of her lips. She kissed me once, twice, a third time, her hands lowering me to the bed as she kissed down my neck, and she sucked, hard, until I moaned into the quiet room.
Shepard's head snapped up, looking over at Jack in the other bed, before landing back on me.
"She's sedated," I said, my voice rough and embarrassingly needy.
"Right," she murmured. She dipped down and pressed her lips to mine, gentle and sweet, before pulling away again. "Maybe we should go upstairs."
"I'm supposed to stay for observation," I reminded, though it was difficult to focus with the way her eyes stayed focused on my mouth, her gaze hot with a hunger that had me biting my lower lip.
"I've monitored you before," she said.
"Somehow I think Chakwas only approved that because you weren't at risk for injuring me further," I mused.
Shepard looked confused, but then I raised an eyebrow, and my words seemed to click. Shepard's cheeks flushed, a deep color spreading across her skin that was visible even in the low light.
"And if I just meant that I don't want to go to sleep without you?"
I scoffed gently. "Want or can't?"
"Both?" she answered, her eyes softening. She rested her hand against my cheek so softly that it made me ache, and when she spoke again, it was in a whisper, "I think I was addicted to you the first time I woke up next to you."
"Oh," I said softly, and I wanted to ask what the bloody hell that meant, what the bloody hell this was, even though I was the one who'd acted first. I hesitated. Whatever this was with Shepard had only just bloomed with a few short kisses and had nothing at all resembling roots to keep it from slipping through my fingers, so I certainly couldn't ask about it. Not now, anyway. And then I was in a crisis of another kind, trying to figure out why I was worried about roots, when I'd never wanted anything of the sort.
This woman will be the death of me.
The thin blankets covering me on the medical cot were pulled back, and then Shepard climbed onto the tiny bed with me, turning on her side and scooting impossibly close in order to fit. She threw her arm over my waist.
"What are you doing?"
She raised her head from where she was settling it on my chest. "Sleeping," she said. "I thought that was part of our arrangement."
I looked around at the medbay and its windows and warned, "Shepard…"
"I'll slip out in the morning; don't worry," she replied with a small smile. She pressed a kiss over my heart and sent it galloping wildly. "Your secret is safe with me."
I rolled my eyes and let my cheek rest on the top of her head.
"And what secret would that be?" I hummed.
She chuckled against my skin, and my chest warmed where she nuzzled her nose into it.
"That you do like me," Shepard answered.
My reply, when it came, was perhaps too serious for the moment, but was nonetheless the most honest thing I'd ever said to her.
"I'm not sure I ever had a choice in the matter."
It's been a while and for that I'm sorry. This chapter was frustrating for me (I bet you can guess why) and just took a lot longer to get right. So...was the kiss worth the wait? Just remember that we aren't done here. Shepard and Miranda may have finally admitted to *something* but these two are never going to make it easy. Time to see how they handle a fledgling relationship in the face of a suicide mission getting ever closer.
Writing Grunt's mission was crazy fun too, and I hope everyone liked the development between him and Miranda. And Miranda and Jack...hm. Ngl, I'm imagining an interlude fic to bridge ME2 and ME3 with a jackanda friendship on the run after they arrest Shepard. But we'll see.
Thanks so much for reading, and I'd love to hear from you! I appreciate all of my reviews, and I also wanted to throw in a thank you to my guest reviewers from last chapter since I can't respond to you directly. I'm also on tumblr (which I've mentioned before but I like to remind you) under the same name with no capitalizations. Come say hi if you want!