Chapter 5

Miranda settled into her new office on the Normandy quickly. It wasn't an overly luxurious space, but it would suffice for her purposes. Compared to most of the military ships she'd been on, her office was actually larger than the cabins of most ship captains. It incorporated a living space with a bed, a work area, and even a sitting area with a couch and a few chairs. The only thing it really lacked was a private bathroom. It was a minor oversight, but she could survive despite the inconvenience of having to use the common bathrooms located at the other end of the crew deck.

Placing a small picture of the Sydney skyline on her desk, she turned on a Paganini recording and entered her network access into her work console. The photo didn't mean anything, but she had read that adding small personal touches made a huge difference in making subordinates and colleagues feel comfortable.

As she composed a preliminary report for the Illusive Man, she thought back to what he had said about Shepard. He had been different since returning from Freedom's Progress, far less confrontational.

He had taken the time to tour the ship and get to know the crew, inquiring about their personal responsibilities and feelings about the mission. He seemed to have a gift at making others feel at ease and open up to him and if Miranda hadn't known better, she would have thought it was natural.

In truth, the man was simply an excellent actor. The clues were well-hidden, but they were there. The way he subtly avoided direct eye contact without allowing others to realize it, the way he always made sure to guide conversation in a way that maintained an emotional distance between himself and the other person, they were hints that only someone with her unique blend of intelligence and field experience could pick up on.

Even Jacob had been fooled. Shepard had broken him down by exploiting their common experiences in the Alliance military. Miranda knew that Jacob still sometimes missed the structure, predictability, and black and white morality of the Alliance and it seemed Shepard had noticed it as well.

Secretly, she envied Shepard. He might have been acting, but he was good at it. Gaining the trust of her subordinates had never been something she was good at, no matter how hard she tried to emulate the same kind of techniques Shepard took to so naturally. There was something more that he had and she didn't, some intangible quality she couldn't quite place.

Shepard's attitude towards her had also changed. He was now treating her in a polite, professional manner, even agreeing with her when she suggested they pursue Mordin Solus first. Miranda wasn't sure if she preferred the new Shepard. Had he changed his approach with her because he realized his old methods didn't work? Or was he simply moving on because he had gotten everything he wanted, as the Illusive Man had suggested? A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. Miranda turned off her music.

"Come."

As she looked up, Shepard walked into her office, dressed simply in nonstandard black combat trousers and a matching t-shirt. Just under the sleeve on his left arm, she could barely make out the faint outline of what had once been a tattoo of a trident-like symbol enclosed within a circle. There had been an inscription below the circle once, but it was completely indecipherable. A regimental crest maybe? It was not unheard of for Alliance operatives to remove such identifying marks before an operation and it appeared this had been what happened here. She'd noticed it before too, during his physical reconstruction but despite looking into his personal history, she'd never found out what it meant. While directing the Lazarus Project, she'd read up on everything she could about the man but much of his personal history was frustratingly vague or nonexistent. She could recite most of his missions by heart, as well as the tactical decisions he'd made but not his rationale for making them. Even with all the data Cerberus had gleaned, Shepard the man was still very much an unknown.

Shepard stood in her doorway for a moment, seeming to take in her room before speaking.

"Cerberus has some different ideas about crew amenities than the Alliance, but I can't say I disapprove."

Miranda finished her report and sent it off.

"We do what we can to make our personnel comfortable. What can I do for you, Commander?"

"I finished inspecting the ship and the crew. They seem competent and morale seems good. Some of them are a little friendlier and more informal than what I'm used to, but I'll manage."

She smiled politely and nodded.

"You've met Yeoman Chambers, I take it? She tells me you picked up some personal items earlier today when we stopped at New Brittany today."

The packages had been sealed when they arrived, making it impossible for her to snoop without Shepard knowing, but she'd quickly found out what they contained when he opened them in his quarters. He had left most of the bugs in the captain's quarters, removing only the audio bug from his bathroom. With his training, he no doubt knew Cerberus was watching him but for some reason he had done nothing to prevent that. A part of her wondered if he'd sealed his personal effects only to annoy her. What he had pulled from the packages had been frustratingly uninformative. Some customized equipment and weaponry, a change of clothes, nothing that could tell her anything new. The most personal item he'd ordered in was a crate of Johnny Walker Black label scotch whiskey but Cerberus' file on him had already determined that he drank heavily on occasion.

"I had some personal preferences that Cerberus didn't consider. Do you have a moment, Miranda?"

Miranda gestured to a seat facing her desk.

"I'd like to apologize for some of the things I said before the mission on Freedom's Progress. I'd just been resurrected from the dead, your Illusive Man informed me the galaxy was still in danger of falling to the Reapers, and I hadn't had a cigarette for over two years."

Miranda congratulated herself on screening a half dozen cartons of cigarettes Shepard had attempted to have delivered to the Normandy. She'd hated the smell since she'd been a young girl and there was no telling what effect they might have on the fresh new tissue of Shepard's reconstructed lungs. She made a mental note to ask Dr. Chakwas to order in some quitting aids. The last thing I need is the man we're counting on to save the galaxy going insane because I forced him to quit cold turkey.

"Under normal circumstances, I would likely be working against Cerberus but for this mission at least, we have to work together. So, can I trust you not to poison my coffee?"

Shepard had extended his hand over her desk. Miranda hesitated for a moment, then arched an eyebrow and took his outstretched hand.

"I suppose I can resist. Although if I were to poison you, I'd be far more likely to slip something into your scotch."

Shepard chuckled.

"I guess I had that coming. Now that we've agreed to work together though, maybe you could tell me a little about yourself? You are my XO, after all."

Miranda was sure Shepard was attempting his charm tactics on her, but at least he was making an effort to repair their strained relationship. She decided to throw him a bone for his efforts.

"I guess that's fair, I've spent the last two years learning everything there is to learn about you."

Turning off her console, she got up and walked out from behind her desk.

"Well, you should probably know that I've had extensive genetic modification. Not my decision, but I make the most of it. It's one of the reasons the Illusive Man handpicked me. I'm very good at just about anything I choose to do."

"You certainly don't lack for confidence."

Miranda shrugged.

"It's just a fact. My reflexes, my strength, even my looks – they're all designed to give me an edge. No point in hiding from it."

Shepard leaned back in his chair, letting one arm rest on its backrest. Miranda continued.

"It's the reason I'm trusted to oversee the most dangerous, risky, and technically demanding operations Cerberus undertakes."

She paused to look him directly in the eye. As she had expected, his eyes had actually been focused on a point slightly above hers.

"And it's why I was assigned to you. It's my job to make sure you succeed, Shepard."

Shepard allowed her to maintain eye contact for a brief moment before quickly breaking it off.

"What level of genetic modification are we talking about?"

Miranda crossed her arms.

"It's very thorough. Physically, I'm superior in many ways. I heal quickly and I'll likely live half again as long as the average human. My biotic abilities are also very advanced... for a human. Add to that some of the best training and education money can buy and well, it's pretty impressive, really."

Shepard chuckled again. His laugh was contagious, and Miranda could see how he was able to draw people to him. Even in a room with a hundred people, he would never disappear into the background.

"Sounds like you were designed to be perfect."

Miranda shook her head.

"Maybe, but I'm not. I'm still human, Shepard. I make mistakes like everyone else. And when I do, the consequences are severe. Everyone expects a lot from someone with my... abilities."

The grin briefly disappeared from Shepard's face.

"It's hard sometimes, having that kind of responsibility on your shoulders."

For a moment, Miranda thought she saw him let his guard down, a look in his eye that she would have read as sympathy if she didn't know better. The smile returned and the shield went back up.

"Thanks for the information, Miranda. I'll talk to you later."

Miranda allowed herself a smile and was surprised to see what looked like genuine warmth appear on Shepard's face in return.

"Of course, Commander. Whatever you need."

As soon as the door hissed closed behind him, the smile disappeared from Miranda's face. Since he had first laid eyes on her, Shepard had shown virtually no reaction to her physical appearance. It was something Miranda wasn't used to. She had written it off before as his being distracted by first the shock of being brought back, then the need to focus on fighting on Freedom's Progress, but even when he had been in her room, talking casually with her in a relaxed setting, his eyes had never strayed from her face nor given any indication of his interest in her as anything more than a conversational partner.

It bothered her. She told herself it was because it meant she could not manipulate him in the same way she could manipulate most men but she knew she was being dishonest. The truth was that Shepard intrigued her. He wasn't classically handsome but he had an interesting face that appealed to her, the old battle scars that broke up the straight lines of his jawline and high cheekbones seeming to add character. His deep grey eyes reminded her of a trip she had taken as a child to Scotland, where she had seen the haunting beauty of the North Atlantic, relentless and unyielding as it pounded against the seashore. But those eyes hid secrets. She had briefly gotten past his defences but he'd quickly closed the opening. Understanding Shepard would be a challenge. And the one thing Miranda Lawson could never resist was a challenge.

Shepard left Miranda's office unsure of how he really felt about her being assigned as his XO. It should have concerned him that the Illusive Man was sending her along as much to spy on him as assist him but a part of him was pleased it was her he would be working with. Miranda was formidable, but he'd already proven he could get her off balance before. The same might not be true of a new handler. Maybe it doesn't have to come to that. She was obviously capable and the resentment he'd sensed from her before at his having been put in charge of their mission seemed to be constrained, even if it hadn't completely disappeared. The smile she'd given him before he left her office had even been real. As long as he kept an eye on her, they might even be able to cooperate.

Shepard brushed past a crewman on his way to the lift. The ship Cerberus had built for him was oddly familiar yet completely unlike any military vessel he had ever served on. What had first struck him about it was its size. Even seen from an observation deck overlooking the hanger bay, its length and mass were obvious. Despite the increased size though, the long, smooth lines were unmistakable. It was like someone had taken the old Normandy SR-1's design plans and doubled every measurement. According to Joker, that had been exactly what happened. When pressed as to how Cerberus had been able to acquire the blueprints for the most advanced warship in the Alliance Navy however, the helmsman had just shrugged and continued to gush about the new ship's capabilities.

The ship had initially remained unnamed, retaining only the designation "SR-2" as its moniker. At Joker's insistence however, the ship had been rechristened "Normandy", after its ill-fated predecessor. Stepping out of the elevator, Shepard was immediately struck by the smell of drying paint; Joker had made sure that the ship's new name had been stencilled in everywhere alongside the ubiquitous Cerberus emblem.

"Officer on deck!"

Shepard nodded to Jacob in acknowledgment. It seemed old habits died hard, as the Cerberus agent was saluting him.

The new Normandy's interior, like its exterior, was much larger than its namesake. The layout remained the same, retaining that old peculiar turian setup with the CIC located near the rear. What was immediately apparent was that more provisions had been made for crew comfort. The seats were properly padded with what looked to be real leather, not the cheap military-grade plastic Shepard had grown far too used to in his time with the marines. The larger dimensions of the new ship meant its interior was much more spacious as well. All in all, it wasn't an exact copy of the old Normandy but it was a reasonable imitation and Shepard had a feeling he could get used to the changes. Climbing onto the command platform overlooking the holographic galaxy map in the middle of the CIC, Shepard allowed himself a genuine smile for the first time since he'd been brought back.

It was as Joker said. It's good to be home.