Bittersweet.
It is the only word that comes to mind as she watches Earth drift away.
Jeryn's feet are back on the Normandy. On her ship. This should be a comfort. It should give her back the sensation of control again, grounding herself to her command. She grips her Alliance tags in her hand — one hers and one not — so hard they bite into her palm. She pockets them quickly before the Major can see that she's stupidly held onto his tag all this time. Clearly, he has not done the same.
Instead of control, standing on the hatch of the loading dock, the fear pools in her belly. Her mentor, Commanding Officer, friend, and if she were honest, the man whose been more of a father to her all these years throws himself into the fray. He's right, and there is no use in denial. He's needed here as much as she is needed on the Citadel to plead their case.
"Shepard, come on, we have to close the hatch." Kaidan grips her elbow and pulls ever-so-slightly. The touch is professional, almost cool, and it makes her wince. "Inside. Let's go."
Reflexively, she pulls her elbow away. She can't yet reconcile the comfort and relief at having him back to fight at her side with the tearing hole of cold distance. "Right."
She follows him to the cargo hold where Vega is pacing back and forth. He makes his way to one side and turns around as if he's bounced off of something unseen and goes the other way. He's building up angry momentum that is palpable on his face. Were she not trying to hold herself firmly together, she might have grinned at how like Grunt he is at times.
Instead he yells. He's in her face. "Bullshit. We can't just leave him here. He'd never tell us to leave him behind."
Jeryn sets her teeth. Normally he wouldn't be right.
"You need to calm down," she finally snaps, jabbing two fingers into his wall of a chest. It seems to be enough to halt him in place.
"You don't know. You. Don't. Know." Every word she barks is staccato, full of frustration. "Don't you think I want to stay, too?" I can't lose Anderson. She shoves the thought from her mind, and stubbornly. He'll be fine. He didn't get as old as he is by not knowing his way around a fight.
The Lieutenant storms off, hands in the air. Jeryn can't even yell. She feels the same way.
Kaidan looks at her, the ghost of skepticism, still unspoken on his face. She opens her mouth to speak when Joker, predictably, interrupts the moment.
She grinds her teeth when Hacket ends the transmission. There's always one more thing to do.
Glancing back at the Major, she knows it will have to wait. She has so much to say, and no time to say it. It will have to wait until after Mars.
Control.
She is losing it, and she needs to keep it. Just a little longer.