"I'm just saying it looked dangerous!"
Jack rolled her eyes.
"But it wasn't! Fuck, Miri, relax. I just swung her around a little!"
"By her legs!"
"I was careful! And she loved it! She didn't even throw up. Your sister is a tiny badass. Heavy, though." Jack rubbed her upper arms. She'd be sore tomorrow, she knew.
The look Miranda gave her was still exasperated, and Jack shook her head, but smiled a little.
"It's kinda cute when you're all protective big sister." After a moment she added: "She looks a lot like you."
That made Miranda's face light up.
"She does, doesn't she?" She gave Jack a sideways glance, then said: "Thanks for coming."
"No problem. She's your sister, she means a lot to you. I get that. If I had a family..." Her voice trailed off, and she just shrugged after a moment, unsure of what she'd wanted to say in the first place.
"Do you want kids?" Miranda asked suddenly.
Jack stopped dead.
"Ha ha, wow. I don't think we're ready for this, babe."
Miranda rolled her eyes.
"Oh come on, don't be like that. I was just curious," she replied, blushing a little. "You know, have your own family?"
"I'm not sure I'd be any good at that," Jack muttered. "Not a clue. Ask me again in ten years, okay?"
They walked on in silence until they reached the bus stop, then Miranda said, as Jack checked the schedule:
"You're not bad with kids. You know, aside from the utter recklessness."
Jack shrugged and smiled self-consciously.
"Don't tell anyone, okay?"
"Worried about your reputation, tough girl?"
Jack stuck her tongue out. Miranda looked around, then drew closer, one hand on Jack's waist, the other stroking the nape of her neck, and kissed her. For a brief moment, Jack was taken by surprise, but then she requited it enthusiastically.
The bus, when it finally arrived, was almost empty, and Miranda was very grateful for it as Jack's fingers made their way beneath her skirt, her hand resting snugly between her thighs. Miranda tried to keep her blushing under control, wondering how Jack could appear for all intents and purposes completely unfazed.
. . . . .
Maybe she would have noticed the smile on his face if she hadn't been so lost in thought. She'd been too happy to worry much about her father, so he caught her off guard when he called her into his study that night.
"What is it?" Miranda asked as she stood in the door frame, wondering with a twinge of nervousness if he'd somehow found out about her visiting Ori.
He looked up at her from where he sat behind his desk, and she finally noticed the smile. Almost passing for kindness, but not quite.
"Why don't you sit down? We need to discuss something."
Miranda walked across the room reluctantly, feeling more uneasy by the second. She had never liked the study, everything inside was too dark, too heavy, too deliberately solemn. Oppressive, somehow. She sat down on the uncomfortable chair in front of the desk and watched her father closely.
"What do we need to discuss?" she asked in as neutral a tone as she could muster.
"I know I've promised to keep out of your affairs, but you must understand that I worry about you, Miranda."
She took a deep breath and tried to stay calm.
"What is it now?"
"What do you know about your... girlfriend?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean?"
"Her life? Her past? Her... misdemeanors?"
It wasn't exactly a lump in her throat. It felt rather as if something was trying to claw its way out of it. Miranda felt herself tense, and she swallowed hard to get rid of the feeling, but to no avail.
"You don't know, do you? My poor child..."
Miranda huffed.
"Don't do that. Just say what you have to say."
He raised his eyebrows, but gave her an oddly benevolent, almost pitying smile, before reaching for an envelope lying on his desk and handing it to her.
"Peruse at your leisure. I hope you'll find it enlightening."
Miranda couldn't help herself, she opened the envelope and looked at the papers. Her fingers clenched on the paper until her knuckles whitened as she skimmed over the files.
"I don't believe this. How did you even... You couldn't get your hands on..."
"No?"
They both knew he could.
"If you don't believe me, why don't you ask her about it?"
"Dammit." She looked up and glared at him. "You enjoy that, don't you?"
"Your anger is not with me, Miranda. I'm merely concerned about you, as any good father would be. I just don't want you to throw away your life for someone like that."
Miranda just got up and left without another word.
. . . . .
Jack hadn't expected Miranda, but she was still pleasantly surprised, for about a second or two after she'd opened the door, until she saw the expression on her face and faltered.
"What's wrong?"
"You tell me."
The cold fury etched into Miranda's face made Jack back away in confusion that was already starting to turn into anger.
"What? What's going on?"
Briefly, Miranda seemed unable to speak, but then she pressed out:
"I know everything. Your past. What you did. I've seen your criminal record."
Jack felt her heart sink. She looked away from Miranda, buried her hands in the pockets of her jeans.
"So?" she muttered defensively.
"Dammit, Jack! At least you could have told me, instead I had to find out like that..."
"No! Okay? I could not. How do you know, anyway? That shit's not supposed to be accessible to the public!"
She looked at her again and for a moment, Miranda shifted uncomfortably as a vaguely guilty expression crossed her face. Jack was confused momentarily, but then it dawned on her.
"Him? Ha. So he really was scheming, after all. What a jerk."
The guilty expression on Miranda's face gave way to righteous indignation again.
"It doesn't matter how I know! It's still true. Why did you do all that shit? Vandalism, theft, assault..."
"So I fucked up massively! And I paid for it. What do you want me to say?"
Miranda just kept staring at her, blue eyes narrowed and accusatory.
Jack shook her head, trying hard not to yell at her.
"Alright, let's get this straight. I don't owe you an explanation for anything. I've put that shit behind me. I'm trying really hard to make things work. But don't you dare lecture me! You have no idea, princess, not a fucking clue!" She couldn't help raising her voice, though.
Miranda crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave her a hard look.
"Having had a hard childhood is your go-to excuse for everything, isn't it? You just really like feeling sorry for yourself, don't you?"
"Fuck you! I don't have to listen to this, coming from little Miss Daddy-Issues. Shit, you can be such a bitch."
"Well, fuck you, too, Jack!" Miranda hissed.
"You know what, just get the hell out of here, I'm so done talking to you."
Miranda just shrugged.
"Yeah, well, maybe this was a mistake," she said coldly, before turning away and walking out. Jack slammed the door behind her, pounded her fist hard against it, then sank forward, forehead against the cold wood. For fuck's sake, why couldn't anything ever just work out?
. . . . .
On her way home – not that she wanted to go home, not really, but what choice did she have? – Miranda wondered what made her angrier – the shit Jack had done, or the fact that she hadn't told her. Still didn't trust her, after everything. If Jack had told her – well, she didn't know if it would have made anything better. But at least her father wouldn't have had a reason to gloat.
And that thought made her want to scream. Everything was still about him. Everything was always about him. She'd been such a fool to think otherwise. And he'd been right, after all. He'd never let that one go, that much she knew.
. . . . .
"No, Jane." She was too tired to manage more than mild irritation at the sight of the other girl. And her goofy smile.
"You're not your usual sunny self. What's going on?"
"Leave me alone."
Jane's cocky expression vanished.
"Fine," she said, reluctantly. "I'll leave you be. But you're looking seriously unhappy. So if you need to talk – call me. Come by. Call Liara."
Miranda shook her head.
"I'll be fine on my own. I've always been."
Jane gave her a very skeptical look, but shrugged and walked off to join her usual group of friends who were sitting a few tables away. Jack wasn't anywhere to be seen. In fact, Miranda hadn't seen her all day. Not that she wanted to. Or maybe she did. She honestly didn't know. All she knew was that she felt miserable.
With a sigh, Miranda pushed her tray away. She wasn't hungry, anyway.
. . . . .
Jane gazed out of the window and sighed deeply.
"What's wrong, honey? Do you miss Liara? You've barely touched your food. Are you feeling well?"
She blinked and turned to her mom. Then smiled ruefully and turned her attention back to her dinner.
"I always miss Liara, but that's not it. This is good chili, by the way! I'm just distracted, is all."
"Thanks, dear. What's distracting you? Is it school? You've been doing so much better ever since Liara has been helping you."
"Nah, school is great!" She waved her fork, sending splatters all over the table, cringing at the mess. "Sorry."
Her mom gave her an ever so slightly resigned smile and handed her a paper towel.
"It's just that I know... people... who have issues with each other that could probably be easily resolved if they'd only let me help them!"
Hannah rubbed her forehead.
"But they don't want you to help." It was not even a question - she knew her daughter too well. Jane could never stay out of other people's problems. It was both her most endearing and most annoying trait.
"They don't realize they want me to help them!" Jane muttered grumpily.
"You can't help everyone, Jane."
"Why not?" She heaved another sigh. "It just went so well and then they went and fu... botched it. It's like they don't want to be happy."
Hannah frowned.
"Why don't you tell me the entire story, dear?"