Chapter Twenty-One
Dreaming About Going Blue

Rannoch, Tikkun System

Although almost a year had passed since the end of the Reaper War and even longer since the geth had reached a truce with the Quarian people, seeing them still unnerved Tali. She had lived most of her life knowing the geth as the enemy of her people. It was hard to break the habit of drawing her shotgun and shooting them on sight. Those thoughts still came unbidden, but these days she didn't even need to carry a weapon.

Being on Rannoch made everything easier. In her first weeks on the surface, the planet had been as alien to her as the Normandy SR-1 once had – even more so due to its massive scale. It was no longer simply a case of getting lost on the way to Engineering. Instead of bulkheads hemming her in from all directions, she had the endless blue skies of Rannoch overhead and the arid soil beneath her feet. The reassuring hum of machinery was replaced with that of a breeze rustling the hardy leaves on a nasi tree.

With a strange environment around her, Tali found it easier to accept the presence of the geth. Her whole world had been thrown upside down. What difference did it make that the former enemy were now the engineers and the manual labour upon which they depended?

Tali was about to embark on yet another journey, one which could have lasting consequences for her people. She eyed the few geth she passed on the wide streets with distinct apprehension. At her side, Garrus reached out to place a gentle hand on her shoulder. The weight of his touch was momentarily reassuring, but it wasn't enough to keep the tension at bay. She turned to look at him. Even now she could still savour the fact that she was seeing him through her own eyes as opposed to the visor of her helmet.

"You know you can back out of this," Garrus said in his gravelly drawl. "No one's forcing you to have the procedure done."

Tali sighed in response. "Then what kind of hypocrite would I be? I've been advocating for greater cooperation with the geth since the beginning." It was simple enough to say, but when she rolled the thought around in her mind, it seemed more ludicrous by the minute. "Keelah, Garrus...having geth programmes injected into my suit? Has breathing unfiltered air turned my brain to mush?"

Despite the anxiety in her voice, Garrus found it difficult to suppress a smile. Her brain seemed perfectly adequate. His on the other hand had long since turned to mush in her presence. As her almond shaped green eyes regarded him with genuine concern, he reached out and hovered his hand close to her cheek. It was near enough that she could feel the warmth from his body, but not so near that he was bringing their skin into contact. Garrus ached to run his hand over her pale lips, but he had to make do with simply looking.

"You wanted to be able to feel the dirt between your toes, Tali," he offered. "From what you've explained to me, this might bring about that dream in years as opposed to decades."

Her expression became wistful...or at least he thought it was wistful. Tali still had some difficulty translating her emotions to her face after spending her life with her features hidden behind a mask. She still conveyed much through body language, but she had perfected several expressions – most notably a frown of displeasure.

"Your descriptions were undeniably terrible," Tali said, referring to Garrus's promise to describe in detail how it felt to touch dirt. Simply saying 'it's dirt, it feels like dirt,' didn't quite satisfy her. She squared her shoulders determinedly and resumed her walk. "I can do this...for my people. If I can demonstrate that it's safe, then more will follow."

"And the next time you see Ashley or Sam, you might be able to reach out and shake their hand," Garrus suggested.

Tali paused mid-step. "Will I?"

"Will you what?"

"See them again?" Tali asked. What had originally been a way to take her mind off the upcoming procedure, became a concern of a different sort. "I don't think we can just invite ourselves on the Normandy any longer. Not with all the rumours coming out of Alliance space." She drew in a shaky breath. Garrus...do you think they eventually mean to go to war?"

The Turian offered a stern snort in response. His flanges momentarily flared. "You need to stop listening to those scaremongers on the Admiralty Board, Tali. The Alliance is only doing what any sensible military should be doing in a post-war environment. They're consolidating, shoring up defences and restoring what was lost – much as my own Government has been doing."

"Has the Turian Government closed its borders and refused all external aid?" Tali pointed out, her voice rising. When Garrus did not offer a reply, she continued, "The Admiralty are right to be concerned. You should be concerned."

Tali stopped walking altogether. She propped her back up against the side of a nearby building and gazed skyward. In the months since the end of the war, the face of Rannoch had been subtly transformed by the combined industry of Quarians and geth. Despite centuries of being confined to overcrowded ships, the Quarians had not immediately spread out across the landscape. Small, close-knit settlements were clustered together on the southern continent. Instead of spreading outwards, tall, elegant buildings soared upwards – keeping the impact on the land to a minimum. Spreading out from each settlement, like a net, were a series of intricately irrigated farms. Although the new age of Quarian architecture and agriculture was in its infancy, technological strides were being made every day with the help of the geth. Although most of the geth mobile platforms remained in the more arid northern climes, many had chosen to work alongside their Creators. Not even in her wildest dreams could Tali have imagined such a future for her people. After centuries of being unwanted vagrants wandering aimlessly, the Quarians were thriving on their homeworld.

There were some setbacks. Adaptation did not happen instantly. At any one time a large proportion of the population were inflicted with various ailments. While most were simply suffering severe colds or skin rashes caused by allergies, others had been stricken with life-threatening reactions. With their bodies so conditioned to shipboard living, there was the likelihood that some would never be able to leave the constraints of their suits.

As content as she was, Tali constantly lived with the thought that something was missing in her life. She also knew that Garrus was bored. The Turian would not admit it, even if asked, but Tali knew him too well. It was easy to notice the faraway look in his eyes, most often prevalent in the quiet of night in their small home. It was obvious that her lover's temperament was ill-suited for peacetime.

Tali glanced at her omni. "Keelah, I'm keeping Seven waiting."

"You still want to go through with it?" Garrus asked carefully.

"Of course," Tali replied. Although she was endeavouring to be decisive, she could hear the uncertainty in her voice. "If only to avoid having to hear you moan about having dirt under your talons."

She was slightly less sure of herself ten minutes later when she was sitting in a sterile chamber with one of the induction ports in her suit connected to a geth hub. Her suit already felt like it was crawling before the procedure had even begun. She glanced across to the platform attending her. During the war it had operated as a Geth Hunter unit. Its glowing red aperture regarded her impassively.

Tali had known this platform for over six months. It called itself simply 'Seven' when the runtimes housed within the platform could not reach a consensus on a proper name. Tali had worked with Seven to test the procedure for months before it would finally be ready. The geth programmes would act as an artificial immune system, bombarding her body with low level infections to build up resistance. There was also scope for future cooperation with enhanced tech abilities and cyber warfare capabilities.

Seven crossed to her side. His fluid footsteps made no sound. "Creator-Zorah, do you wish to begin?"

Months of planning, and Tali suddenly felt a twinge of what humans called 'cold feet.' Garrus was there, his hands dwarfing her own as he cradled one gently.

"Are we truly sure this is going to work, Seven?" she asked the pointless question. "What if something goes wrong...my suit may reject the programmes. There could be irreversible deletions."

"The runtimes have...volunteered," Seven explained in its monotonous voice. "To assist Creator Zorah, one who worked alongside Shepard-Commander, it is a...honour." It spoke hesitantly. Concepts of 'volunteering' and 'honour' were still relatively new to the geth. "Any risks are their own."

Tali offered a determined nod. "Alright. Let's get this bosh'tet procedure over and done with."


Chasca, Matano System

As Sam Traynor emerged from Normandy's climate controlled environment, she was struck by a sudden wave of heat. Having grown up in the temperate climes of Horizon and spent her university days rugged up against bitter English winters, she was immediately grateful that she was not the one being posted to Chasca. She felt a brief pang of sympathy for Sarah Williams who would be stuck on the planet for the better part of two years. Still, the youngest Williams sounded eager to trade shipboard life for the wide-open spaces of a colony – even if it was one where colonisation was restricted to a narrow strip between the sweltering day side and the frozen night side. However, in glancing skywards, Sam was struck by the vibrant swirl of colours created by the perma-twilight. It was almost gorgeous.

Hmmm, maybe not so bad after all? she mused as she clutched the small box she carried against her chest.

Sam's sweeping gaze picked out Sarah standing on the tarmac being embraced by her sister. Goodbyes were never easy. Several days earlier, Sam had said farewell to her parents as they boarded a freighter bound for Earth. While she had remained stoic in their presence, her willpower had faltered as soon as they were gone. In the scant privacy offered by the women's bathroom, she had sobbed like a small child. Even though the Horizon survivors had been treated like royalty since they emerged from their prison, Sam had been unable to suppress the lingering sense of dread at the thought of her parents remaining in Alliance territory, under the control of the very organisation who had imprisoned them.

In response to her concerns, Ashley had offered a fervent promise that they would stay safe. When Sam had openly doubted that the Captain's SpecTRe status would be enough to keep them safe, Williams had replied cryptically that she had additional help. Although Williams was undoubtedly one of the most reliable officers Sam knew, she could still not bring herself to trust the promise. It was that doubt which had pushed her to break regulations for the first time in her career. When it came to her parents she was prepared to bend the rules. The memory caused her to flinch visibly.

Bend the rules? They were well and truly broken…like into tiny little pieces. Into court-martial, dishonourable discharge pieces, Sam reflected as she stared at an unsuspecting Ashley. The hack she'd run on the Captain's private comms channel had dug up a number of messages regarding future protection for the Horizon survivors involving careful surveillance by a network of operatives. None were signed off, but Sam instinctively knew that they were from Liara T'Soni. How Liara could promise that the survivors would be watched and safeguarded, Sam didn't know. But she trusted Liara and the promises that were made. A guilty flush crept up the back of her neck. Although she'd burned the hack programme so she couldn't use it a second time, there was nothing she could do about her ability to simply write another one. If Ash finds out…

She was still lost in her thoughts when Sarah Williams caught sight of her and waved her down. Although Sam had well and truly filed her infatuation with Sarah Williams in the 'do not disturb' corner of her brain, the prospect of a hug stirred her into action. Her stride was momentarily jarred when someone slapped her on the shoulder. Turning, she found Leon Grenier with his trademark grin. The man smiled too much.

"Hey, Chief. Heard from your parents?" he asked as they walked together.

In the last hour alone, Sam had received the same question from four different shipmates. Nick and Radha Traynor had managed to make fans throughout the Normandy. Being academics, her parents were two of the least technologically minded people in the Galaxy. Their questions and comments had resulted in numerous grins and chuckles. Leon had paid them special attention. Sam didn't know why until, in a quiet moment off duty, the XO admitted that both of his parents had died during the Reaper invasion.

Sam managed a polite nod in response to Grenier's question. "A couple of hours ago. They've arrived safely on Earth." There was little point in going into the details of the tears and brave smiles on both sides. She missed them, that was all there was to it.

Leon nodded as they left the ship. "How tempting was it to leave with them?"

A muted sigh left her lips. "Almost impossibly so. They had to talk me out of it."

"I'm glad they did. You are a damn fine sailor, Traynor."

"I'm an Ops Chief. I fix things. There's nothing essential about what I do," Sam said, a familiar bitterness returning to her voice.

Even though Sarah was waiting for them, Leon stopped Sam in her tracks with a gentle grip on her forearm. He spun her around to face him. "I watched you while you were down on Horizon. Those people were justifiably terrified of the Alliance. They wouldn't come near even the Normandy crew until you went amongst them. You were calm, confident…brilliant. Williams made their release possible, but you were probably the first friendly face they'd seen in almost a year."

"You're not still trying to get into my pants are you?" Sam asked with narrowed eyes.

He laughed. "No, of course not." His serious expression returned. "I see you, and you're not as dispensable as you think you are, Sam Traynor." He quickly realised that he had made things between them slightly awkward. Changing the subject, he pointed to the box she carried. "What's that?"

"Oh?" Sam glanced down in surprise, as though just remembering that she was carrying something. "Um, it's a gift."

With Grenier's kind, but misguided words failing to dispel her lingering guilt, Sam found that she could not look Ashley in the eye as she approached. Instead she concentrated on Sarah Williams, managing a beaming smile for the young woman. When Sarah enveloped her in a fierce hug, Sam somehow managed to remain dignified.

"Take care of yourself won't you, Sam?" Sarah said when she drew back. "Sorry…Chief!"

Bloody hell! Don't call me Chief! Sam's resolve to be impassive about the whole affair started to weaken. "Sam's fine, honestly." She pressed the small package in her hand towards Sarah. "This is for you."

When Sarah opened the box, her eyes widened as she recognised the small device within. "Sam, it's your chess set! I can't take this!"

"I can easily pick up another." Sam refused to take it back. "I figured you wouldn't have access to anything much on Chasca. This way, you have at least something thrilling to do in your downtime."

"Thank you. You know, one of these days I'm going to improve my chess game and actually beat you," Sarah warned.

"I'll hold you to that," Sam replied in a thick voice. "Take care of yourself won't you, Williams."

"Aye, aye, Chief."

There were a few more parting words, made all the more memorable for the fact that Ashley was trying not to cry and Grenier was behaving oddly. The XO's nervous energy also seemed to infect Sarah. She was unable to look him properly in the eye, even when he tried to say goodbye. It was only when she had said her final words and tried to move away that it became apparent why. Sarah managed to walk only a short distance before she dumped her bags on the tarmac and ran back to Grenier. Both Ash and Sam heard her mutter 'fuck rank' before she threw her arms around his neck and claimed his lips in a determined kiss.

"Woah," Sam exclaimed aloud without even realising that her lips were open.

She found herself unable to suppress an irrational surge of resentment toward Leon Grenier. Although she considered the XO to be a friend and all around nice guy, in that moment she hated him with a passion. She discreetly turned away to avoid staring daggers into his back as he responded to Sarah's kiss. At her side, Ashley too had narrowed her eyes – although her umbrage was the natural reaction of an older sister.

"Oh sis," Ashley whispered, shaking her head. Although she didn't exactly disapprove of Grenier, the fledgling relationship was already facing numerous obstacles. Most importantly, the Normandy would be leaving Chasca as soon as the last crate of cargo was deposited on the tarmac. "I told you to look, not touch." She didn't expect an answering quip from Sam, but when she turned to look at the Ops Chief, Ashley found her obstinately staring in the opposite direction. Her first instinct was to not embarrass Sam, but she found it difficult to stop herself. " Speaking as your friend as opposed to your CO, Traynor, I think she's daft for not choosing you. But…straight women, what can you do?"

Sam's gaze darted across to Ashley. Her eyes were wide and alarmed. "I am that obvious?"

"Not really." Ash offered a relaxed shrug in response. "It's just a well-known fact that each successive Williams sister is better looking than the last. We started out pretty damn average but, by the time Sarah came along, the genes were pretty much perfect. You wouldn't be much of a lesbian if you didn't have a crush on my sister."

The resulting laugh served to mask Sam's embarrassment, although there was little she could do about the warm flush to her cheeks. "Leon's a good guy," she offered charitably. And you're not average by any sense of the word, Captain Williams – at least in my dreams.

"He'd better be a bloody good guy…or I'm kicking his ass," Ashley promised, turning back to face the couple.

"On second thought, I'm grateful she didn't choose me," Sam said quickly. She had absolutely no desire to be on the receiving end of that particular ass-kicking. You hacked into her comms, Sam, there's an entirely different brand of ass-kicking reserved for you. The kind that you don't come back from.

Ash shook her head. "Who am I kidding? Sarah is more than capable of taking care of herself. I'm just desperately trying to hold onto my position as big sister." She sighed, knowing that in a few hours' time she would have to leave another of her sisters behind. "C'mon, Chief, we've got work to do."

Sam scowled in response. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a ridiculously hard taskmaster?"

"Would you rather stand here and watch someone else kiss my sister?"

"Point taken," Sam replied quickly.

The two women made their way toward the Normandy's loading ramp. It was already a miniature hive of activity. Both were already feeling the heat with a sheen of sweat on their faces. Sam was uncomfortably aware that moisture was building in her small cleavage. She resisted the undignified urge to tug at her bra.

"You know you're going to make some woman incredibly happy one day?" Ash commented. Wisely, she stripped off her jacket and threw it over one shoulder.

The reassuring comment didn't go down the way Ashley had intended. Sam's scowl deepened. "You know, the only thing worse than hearing that line from my parents, is hearing it from my CO."

"Well, we've all got your best interests at heart."

"You should all give it a rest," Sam replied peevishly. Ashley was currently the last person with whom she wanted to discuss her least favourite topic. "There aren't any women out there and I don't care."

Unconcerned, Ashley shrugged. "How about an asari then? It worked for Shepard."

The throwaway comment grabbed Sam's attention. It was the first time she had heard the Captain refer to Commander Shepard for some time. When she glanced across at her, she saw Ashley was making a concentrated effort to keep a smile on her face at the mention of her friend. From Sam's point of view, the mere mention of asari was enough to bring intense images from Joker's vid collection to mind. Sam blushed and looked away. A couple of times she had dreamed about 'going blue.' Asari were undeniably beautiful but while she could easily imagine herself going there, she could not think of anything that would make her remotely attractive to their species. Shepard had been different. Gorgeous, powerful, and magnetic. It had been obvious why Liara had gone through hell to choose the Commander as her lover.

"Ha, no asari in her right mind would choose me," Sam replied bluntly. In making the mistake of looking over her shoulder, she saw Sarah Williams and Grenier still kissing. She suddenly needed something to occupy herself with. She squared her shoulders. "You were saying something about work to be done, ma'am?"


Mindoir, Attican Traverse

At first the crack was tiny. Just a small sliver arcing across her face plate at the edge of her vision. As Miranda watched in fascination, the single line spilt into two. Her scientific mind marvelled at the strength evident in the creature's jaw. Just few more moments and it would succeed in shattering the plate altogether and reaching its intended goal – the tender flesh that lay within.

It was hardly one of her finest moments. Grappling in the mud with an animal, it's slavering jaw wrapped around much of her rapidly failing helmet. The warning system in her HUD was displaying a litany of suit integrity failures but all she could see were the cracks in her faceplate and the salivating depths beyond. An, odd, choked sound burbled from her throat. Miranda supposed it was a laugh. Having her head ripped off by wildlife was infinitely more ludicrous than dying on the end of Kai Leng's sword. When pain lanced across her temple, Miranda renewed her efforts to propel the weight from her body. The biotic blast that emanated outwards was pathetic, barely enough to stun the creature and nowhere near forceful enough for it to release its hold on her helmet.

Just as blood began to trickle into her eyes, Miranda heard several cracking retorts. The creature suddenly went limp. The entirety of its considerable weight collapsed downwards. If not for her hardsuit, she would have been crushed. Once dead, its jaws slacked. Instead of fighting for her life with an animal, Miranda was left lying beneath its corpse, unable to do anything other than simply wait for help. When it came a few moments later in the guise of the rest of her squad, she realised that she would rather have been eaten alive.

With the weight gone, the trio of equally gormless faces peered down at her. Miranda brushed aside a proffered hand and insisted on sitting unaided. She turned and glanced across at the thing that had so nearly succeeded where countless others had failed.

"Nathak," Parker commented, giving the four legged, cat-like creature a contemptuous kick with his boot. He cradled a red-barrelled Mattock in his hands. The man had undoubtedly saved her life. "Never heard of them venturing this far down from the mountains though."

Miranda suppressed a shiver as she stared into the Nathak's glassy eye. Her squad had been dispatched to locate a small group of colonists who had failed to return from a geological survey. There was now little doubt as to their fate. Without hardsuits and armed only with basic weapons, they would have stood little chance. Not with the way the big cats moved. Despite her combat training, Miranda had received no warning in the moments prior to the attack. One moment she had been chastising Private Rose for idle chatter, and the next she was lying on her back in the mud, barely comprehending what was happening. Almost eaten by a giant cat, Lawson. You're definitely losing it.

When Miranda tried to unclip her helmet, she realised that the arm she'd broken in Alberta was once again next to useless. Only with a concentrated effort did she manage to peel the ruined armour away from her sweat-soaked head. Parker, Jameson, and Rousmaniere were still staring down at her in a tableau marked by complete inaction – waiting for their orders.

"Where are Rose and Iwamoto?" Her own voice sounded strange, distant.

"Dead," Parker responded perfunctorily. His family was from Mindoir. Part of the second wave of colonists after the attack of '70. Although only a Private, his local knowledge meant that he instinctively stepped into an advisory role in the squad. "Rose had four of the bastards set on him. Iwamoto lost her balance and fell." He jerked his head in the direction of a narrow fissure in the ground. This part of Mindoir was riddled with them. Avoiding them was one of the first lessons of surviving.

"Did you find her body?" Miranda asked. Her head was throbbing. With each pulse, more blood obscured her vision. Jameson, their medic, was finally spurred into action. She began rifling through her medkit.

"Well…no," Parker admitted grudgingly. "There's no telling how deep that thing goes, ma'am."

"You're about to find out. Take Rousmaniere and get down there. Iwamoto's shields could have cushioned her fall."

"Aye, aye, ma'am."

It was said through gritted teeth. Miranda suspected that Parker would have taken some sort of delight in finding her headless corpse beneath the Nathak. Although she was used to being almost universally disliked, usually that only happened after people got to know her. On Mindoir however, the disdain was pre-programmed. It originated through a combination of snap-judgements about her physical appearance and Jack informing everyone that she was ex-Cerberus. Although she had never actually overheard the conversations, the ex-convict had made no attempt to hide her animosity from the moment she arrived. Even Jameson, as she hunkered down to help dress Miranda's head wound, did not say a word as she slathered medigel on the laceration.

Parker had eventually scrambled down to find their missing squadmate. Even within the protective casing of her suit, the fall had broken her neck. What little of Private Rose's body remained, was also dropped into the fissure. The best burial they could offer him. With her depleted squad, Miranda made the trek back to the M29 Grizzly they'd abandoned a few klicks back. Like most of the garrison's equipment, the Grizzly was obsolete and unreliable. On this occasion, its temperamental fuel cells had failed leaving them to hump it on foot. She suffered the ignominy of having to report on the incident before being told that there were no vehicles that could be spared to pick them up.

Almost eight hours later, the four marines stumbled back into base after a disturbingly silent march. Miranda's headache had worsened to the point where all she wanted to do was pump herself full of painkillers and hit the rack in her tiny quarters. She was in a foul mood. After three weeks of hiding the injury she'd carried from Alberta, it had almost healed to the point of being fully functional. Now it ached almost as badly almost as it had in China. Her medical training told her she'd pushed it too far too fast.

As exhausted as she was, her first port of call was not her quarters. Miranda was painfully cognisant of the fact that she had neither received nor sent any messages to Ashley throughout her whole time on Mindoir. Her duties were heavy, but she'd deliberately piled additional shifts and regimes on top of her scheduled ones. It was all part of a mad scheme to prove Jack wrong, and possibly to earn the respect of the other marines on the base. After pulling three weeks of mostly sixteen, and even twenty hour days, so far she had managed only to exhaust her considerable reserves of endurance.

With a substantial amount of comm time owing, Miranda managed to summon a twinge of enthusiasm as she entered the prefab that served as a communications bunker. Still clad in her bloody armour, she was mentally ticking off the list of things that she should mention to Ashley. Admitting that she was serving with Jack would be fine. Ashley barely knew the ex-convict. However, admitting that she had almost been eaten alive would not be shared – possibly ever.

The bored technician on duty gave her a cursory glance as she entered. "Comms are down," he muttered unhelpfully before returning to his datapad.

"You have got to be shitting me," Miranda exclaimed, her exhaustion momentarily replaced by white hot anger. "What's the timeframe for repair?"

He offered a shrug in reply. "Just reported it to the Captain, waiting for orders."

"Surely your orders are to fix it?" she replied in disbelief. It was the final straw on one of the worst days of her life. She did not even bother to suppress the irritated grunt that followed.

"Why?" A new voice joined the conversation. "In a hurry to request your transfer?"

"What the fuck do you want?" Miranda murmured inaudibly. She spun on her heels to face a newly arrived Jack. The Captain's first response was to utter a low whistle when she saw Miranda's face. No doubt there were now the beginnings of purple bruises to complement the lacerations.

"Your report for a start," Jack replied, propping her hands on her hips. "You lost two of my kids out there. I guess I expected you to make your report a priority. Instead I find you here, making social calls."

Despite her attitude, Jack was right. Miranda's stubborn pride would not allow her to say as much. "They weren't your kids, Jack," she said in a tired voice, making no attempt to refer to her superior as 'ma'am'. "Iwamoto was even older than me."

Jack suddenly flared blue. "And that makes her life expendable?"

"Of course not!" Miranda snapped in reply. In a brief moment of silence she asked herself whether she would ever be able to have a simple conversation with Jack that did not turn to shit. Glaring at the petite biotic, she suspected not. "But they were marines, not your kids."

The flare was short-lived, although Jack's anger clearly lingered. Miranda guessed that Jack was interpreting the blank expression on her face as a lack of compassion. It wasn't. She was simply exhausted.

"I want your report, Cheerleader," Jack demanded. "Before you even think about anything else."

Miranda sighed in exasperation. Like food or sleep? She'd had neither for the better part of twenty hours. "Fine. Hopefully it'll give the Technician enough time to fix the problem."

"Actually-" The technician started to protest but was cut short by a withering glance from Miranda. "Yes, ma'am. I'll see what I can do."

Jack snorted as the pair of them left the prefab together. Miranda trailed, her legs feeling leaden and unresponsive. "Anyone would think you had some boyfriend out there who actually gave a shit. Is that what it is? You've found someone other than the late Commander Shepard who can put up with waking up next to you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," was the sharp reply. "It's nothing like that." It was the partial truth. Ashley was nothing like Shepard.

Another sharp stab of pain lanced across her brow, followed by a wave of nausea and dizziness. Miranda's arm flailed out to reach the railing as she stumbled. To complete her humiliation, Jack's reflexes spurred into action, catching her before she could fall.

"Don't crack your idiot head," Jack commented as she steadied Miranda on her feet. "Heard it was fucked up out there?"

Taken aback by Jack's brusque but civil manner, Miranda managed a nod. "Almost getting my head ripped off by a wild animal fits the definition of rough."

In response, Jack cast a wistful gaze to the hills. "This entire colony is wild. We fight over it, humans, batarians - but the animals were here first. Gotta respect nature."

Well I fucking hate nature, Miranda thought, wishing that her limbs would work properly so she could stand without Jack's aid. Much to her chagrin, Jack continued to support her as they walked down the small flight of stairs– like a crutch. She had fully expected the smaller woman to watch her fall and then laugh. It was only when Jack finally let go once they were on level ground that her trademark sneer returned.

"Hey…don't kid yourself, Cheerleader. No one out there gives a fuck about either of us," Jack said in a cold voice. Miranda wondered whether it was for her benefit, or Jack's own. "You know what, go hit up the Doc first. See if he can do something about your face because it's even more fucking painful to look at than it usually is."

"Aye, aye, ma'am," Miranda managed to reply without injecting any withering scorn into her voice. The simple reason being that she was too exhausted. Even though she knew better, it was easy to talk herself into Jack's way of thinking. She was too far away to even send a simple message to say that she'd almost died.

Miranda stared at Jack, watching the other woman walk away. An irritated scowl developed. In hindsight, she wanted to throw her relationship with Ashley in Jack's face, if only to prove that someone in the Galaxy did care about her.