Intai'sei reminded Matt of Mindoir. The sky was the same mixture of red and gold, and the breeze rolled gently over the hills. Just looking at it, he might have mistaken it for home. But Mindoir had never had this oppressive heat that clogged his nostrils. It was beautiful, but he couldn't imagine this place as anything more than a temporary base of operations—or a safe haven for hunted former Cerberus officers.
Miranda's message had been brief: the virus was complete and ready for upload to his omni-tool. Matt clenched his fist. One step closer to killing Leng and allowing Kelly and Dr. Chakwas to rest in peace. This was too important for him not to pick up personally. There were other compensations as well. He had only seen Miranda twice since his forced return to Earth, and then only for a few minutes. But this time? The Normandy was in orbit while the crew performed routine maintenance. He and Miranda could have an entire day to themselves.
Matt was greeted by a blast of blessedly cold air when he opened the door. The low hum of the cooling unit reverberated through the air. The living room was clean and spare, but even here there were signs of fresh human habitation. A book lay on the armrest of one chair. Matt picked it up and examined it idly. Powered Upper Limb Prostheses: Control, Implementation and Clinical Application. Definitely Miranda's. "Miranda?"
"In here," came a voice from the bedroom.
The room was much as Matt remembered it from the few times he'd slept here. Sunlight filtered in through a large window in the north wall, making the green carpet and pale walls richer and more lively than any colonial apartment had a right to be. The double bed had been made. The rest of the room was dominated by a large desk. Papers were scattered everywhere, and a computer whirred and beeped with activity.
Miranda rose to greet him. Matt inhaled sharply. The exhaustion that had seemed her constant companion had sloughed away like dead skin. Her perfectly sculpted face had been made for enthusiasm; energy transformed the uncanny into the radiant. Even her movements seemed more fluid and graceful. "I've got it. With the push of a button, you can take control of Leng's gross motor functions. Fine motor skills are proving a bit tricky at the moment, so you can't make him pull a trigger, but you can stop him from pointing a gun at you."
Matt turned on his omni-tool. A stream of data that he didn't even pretend to understand flashed across the screen. "I give him verbal commands the same as you did with me, right?"
She nodded. "He'll fight you, but it should neutralize him fairly effectively in a fight. Theoretically, anyway. It's all simulations until we can test it on Leng himself."
Matt raised an eyebrow. "Does this mean you aren't going to hack me again?"
Miranda shook her head. "It won't get me anymore useful data. Leng uses a modified version of your implants. That's why he's so much faster and stronger than you are. He's top-of-the-line." Her eyes glittered. "For the moment."
"For the moment?"
"I had some free time on my hands while I was waiting for you to come. Between you and Leng, I feel like I've eaten, slept, and breathed Lazarus for the last three years. Billions of credits and thousands of man-hours for two people. When I started on the project, I thought it was a waste of Cerberus resources. You were—are—extraordinary, but you were still just one person. But suppose we could mass-produce some of your upgrades?"
She gestured at the papers on the desk. "I've been working on some ideas. Not even close to the prototype stage at this point. Mostly just trying to get my thoughts down."
Matt picked up the nearest sheet. It was covered with cross-sections of various human organs. Eyes, hearts, stomachs, all rendered competently but unremarkably. She'd scribbled various mathematical formulas in the margins, crossing out some and circling others. Miranda's handwriting was cramped and nearly illegible at the best of times, but the technical jargon didn't help. "I don't understand a word of this."
"And I don't understand what you see when you look at a Caravaggio. I suppose that makes us even." She smirked. "But what I did for you can be done for others. You asked me once what Cerberus stood for, and I told you that it was the advancement of the human race. I don't know if the Illusive Man ever believed that, or if it was a lie that he told me to ensure my loyalty, but I still believe. After the war, I'm going to do my best to help humanity, not just a few people with money and power."
Matt watched her. She'd told him that she lacked fire. That was a lie. Her fire was on display before him, and that fire was what drew him back to her again and again. Yes, she was beautiful but so was Aish Ashland or the Consort. Attractive women were everywhere. But passion? That was harder to find. Miranda had devoted her life to an ideal, and she had done it without being twisted into a xenophobe or a monster. Beauty and brains made her appealing. Dedication and drive made her irresistible. Matt had followed her when he'd had nothing else.
Her gaze flickered. "If we even win this war."
"I picked up Dr. Sanders on the way here. Binary Helix, Synthetic Insights, and Kassa Fabrications are all behind us a hundred percent." He took her hands in his. "So I'd say our chances are looking pretty good." Miranda would get a chance to create her better world. He'd see to that. "So, how are you? Is Oriana okay?"
"I'd feel better if she were here with me, but she won't leave her parents. They couldn't come here, and I couldn't find a safehouse on Feros that quickly. I've made sure she can still contact me, but…" She straightened. "I wish I could do more. I hate sitting on the sidelines. At least I can help you with Leng."
"Always a place for you on the Normandy."
"Like there was a place for Jack?" She smiled sadly. "I was Cerberus for years. The Alliance probably still has orders to kill or arrest me on sight. The crew would always view me with suspicion. And this time, I'd be little more than a common soldier. More of a hindrance than help."
The hell of it was that she wasn't wrong. The crew would mistrust her. It was one thing for Ken and Gabby to be welcomed back. They had only joined Cerberus in the first place to fight the Reapers. Miranda had spent her entire adult life with them. She had been "the enemy" for twenty years. There would always be whispers that she was actually a spy planted by the Illusive Man. He could force them to work with her, but she'd never be anything more than a grunt unless she brought some new intelligence or resources with her. Matt had destroyed any chance of that when he had turned down Eldfell's offer. "I still miss you."
"Well, we still have today, don't we?" She traced his bicep with one finger, and her eyes glittered with mischief and desire. "I'm sure you can think of something to fill the time."
Matt grinned. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean, Ms. Lawson."
"Well, I suppose I'll simply have to show you, commander."
She brushed her lips against him, playful and unhurried. A tingle raced down Matt's spine. They'd always had to hurry. Always had to be careful. They were never supposed to be anything more than teacher and student or commanding and executive officer. Or there were Cerberus assassins after them. Their relationship was one stolen moment after another. But, just this once, they could take their time.
He followed her lead, molding his lips to hers. Her mouth was soft and warm. Not the oppressive heat of outside, but something that could make him feel safe and secure. The scent of jasmine filled his nostrils. Miranda's hands roamed his back, following the curves of his muscles. Matt pulled her close with one hand, and tangled the other in her hair.
He moved over her cheek to kiss along her jawline and down to the nape of her neck. Her skin tasted salty in his mouth. Miranda's breath came in ragged, pleased gasps. Matt had always loved the sound of them. They were reminders that he could affect her just as she affected him.
Her face was pleasantly flushed when she pulled back. "I knew you'd get the general idea."
He laughed. "You know me. I always was a quick study."
"Good." She shoved him with such sudden force that Matt tumbled onto the bed with a soft "oof." Miranda loomed over him. There was a different glint in her eyes now: predatory and possessive. Biotic power raced along her body like lightning that she had bent to her will. "Because I'm just getting started."
Miranda pillowed her head on Matt's shoulder and her breath tickled against him. Neither of them spoke. Matt liked the stillness. No need to jump from her bed and try to figure out which cover story to use this time. Instead, he stroked her hair. He'd always liked how glossy and thick her hair was. A simple, exquisite luxury just to be able to sift through it like this.
The war felt very far away. Not gone, but distant. The visible part of Miranda's face was smooth and unlined, Matt shifted to get a better view. Naked, she was a marvel. He'd almost forgotten how much so. The toned muscles of her stomach, the mole on her right breast. The easy sensuality that was as much a part of her as her professionalism. He'd love to paint her like this. Maybe in oils. It had been years since he'd painted properly, but Miranda deserved a proper canvas. His brain whirred. Nothing so blatant as having her stare at the viewer as if daring him to take her. She was sexual but he had to capture her power as well. A queen awaiting her lover, affairs of state never quite banished from her mind.
"I just gave you a fantastic sex, and you're thinking about art."
Matt opened his mouth to protest.
"You always get that look on your face when you're planning a drawing." Her smile was lazy. "So, what's it to be this time? Charcoal? Colored pencils?"
"Oils."
"Oils?" She frowned. "Bit more time-consuming than you're used to, isn't it?"
"Yeah." The medium had come to him before he'd thought of the practicalities. There would be preliminary sketches, considering and rejecting dozens of ideas before he ever placed his brush to canvas. This wasn't the sort of thing he could fit in during his downtime on the Normandy. He'd chosen charcoal and colored pencils as his primary medium because they were easy to store and work with even aboard the limited space of a starship, But even with only the germ of an idea, he knew he would need something grander. "I think it's time I started stretching myself again. Probably have to do a few warm-up pieces first."
It would have to wait until after the war was over. After. He'd never allowed himself to think about after. The Alliance and Cerberus had sent him on the missions they couldn't send anyone else. He was always vaguely surprised to come back alive. But he kept coming back. Somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten to ask himself what he was coming back for. "I used to be so ambitious. I was going to be a great artist. But now…" He cupped her cheek. "I want to paint you, give you what you deserve. And I want to keep doing it. For once in my life, I want to stay."
Miranda didn't say anything at first, and Matt was terrified he'd said the wrong thing. They'd never really discussed the future. It had seemed presumptuous with the Reapers out there. Now that the idea had entered his head, though, it wouldn't leave. He could have a future. With her. Instead of just seeing that she had a galaxy to make better, he could help her build it. If that was what she wanted.
"Matt," she said, her voice cracking almost imperceptibly. "I'm not really good at the whole 'normal life' thing. I tried, and it didn't work. There isn't going to be to two-and-a-half children and a white picket fence for me no matter what happens to the Reapers."
"I don't want normal. I want the woman who's planning to mass-produce Lazarus."
"You say that now," she said in exactly the same tone she once used to explain basic biotic principles. "But we've never really had the chance to be normal. This whole relationship has been one crisis after another. What happens when that's gone?"
This was the part of the movie where the hero was supposed to make a big romantic speech that swept away the girl's doubts and smoothed the path to happily ever after. It was a lot easier on the vidscreen. She was right. They'd never had the thousand mundane intimacies a normal couple took for granted. They'd never had to divvy up household chores or set a budget. "I'm not asking you to marry me. But I want to try to make this work. I—" I love you. "–I want you in my life. I'll always want you in my life. I think we've both earned at least a shot at a happy ending."
He watched as emotions flickered across Miranda's face in rapid succession: disbelief, hope, fear. "Someday, I'm going to break your heart. But yes, I'll try." She kissed him, and there was the faintest trace of moisture on her skin. Sweat or tears. No way to be sure.
"So," she said when she pulled back. "do you want some lunch? I saw some questionable-looking chicken in the freezer."
His stomach growled. "Chicken sounds lovely." Such a small thing, having dinner. But maybe it was a start.