Shepard stood there for a long while afterward, feeling as if his heart had been ripped from his body. He couldn't understand why there was suddenly this empty hole inside of him. He couldn't understand what anything that just happened had meant, or why he let her leave without an explanation. He replayed each moment in his head, the weak smile and final look so familiar, but Shepard couldn't place their meaning. He was about to move from the statuesque posture she had left him in when it hit him like a ton of bricks… The smile, the kiss, her tears, that last elusive look… She had been saying goodbye.
Whatever was going on, she thought she would never see him again – and he had let her walk away.
He cursed at himself, "EDI, where's Miranda?"
EDI's voice filled the room. "She left the Normandy 7 minutes ago, Commander."
"Did she say where she was going?" he asked.
"No, Commander – she did, however, download a specific file to an OSD before she left," the AI replied.
Confused, Shepard responded, "Which file?"
"The file I was trying to decrypt – the one you acquired on your mission to Lorek, Commander."
"That doesn't make any sense…"
"I'm sorry I don't know more, Commander," EDI apologized, closing the comm channel.
Shepard cursed under his breath again and stormed toward the door. He went through the situation and his options in his head, but as he headed toward the elevator, the crew's cabin caught his eye and he remembered what Morgan had told him about Smith.
'That prototype could be useful for this,' he thought, 'but the risk of it malfunctioning…'
He shook his head, 'It's a risk I'll take.'
He entered the crew chambers – and to his luck, Smith was there, sitting on her bunk, back turned to the door – with her chest open in front of her. She turned and gaped at Shepard in surprise, "Commander… I…"
"Where's the gun?" Shepard demanded.
Smith's face wrinkled in confusion, "Sir, what gun are you talking about?"
"I know you brought a prototype weapon on board MY ship. I don't have time for games, Smith," Shepard yelled, "Hand it over."
Smith's mouth opened and closed, trying to find words to get her out of the situation, "Sir, I have no honest clue what you are talking about. I was-"
Shepard interrupted her, raising a hand as he marched forward and grabbed the chest – tilting its contents onto the floor. Piles of clothes and personal items flooded the area surrounding their feet, but he didn't see a gun. He pushed the contents around, trying to find anything abnormal, but everything was completely as it should have – until his hand bumped into something unusually hard in a folded up jacket. He picked up the item – unfolding the material as he did. Inside he found what he was looking – a small pistol shaped item with a large bright blue glowing clip. He stared at it for a bit before turning his glare towards Smith.
"Sir, I swear I have no clue wh-"
He raised his hand again to silence her, "Right now – you're lucky I have something more important to tend to before I write you up for bringing this onboard. However, I'm not letting you out of my sights. I'm leaving the Normandy for awhile and you're coming with me."
"Wher-"
"That's all YOU need to know, Smith. Suit up and meet me in the CIC in 5 minutes. If you're not there… I'll make sure EDI finds us the nearest airlock."
Smith gulped, then gave him a nod before beginning to pick up her items and throwing them back into her chest with haste. Shepard turned on his heels and exited the cabin, holstering the gun in his belt. As he headed for the elevator, a panicked voice caught his attention and stopped him feet from the elevators open door.
"Commander! Wait!"
Crewman Morgan appeared around the corner of the elevator and slid to a halt.
"C-Commander, there's something you should know," he stammered.
"I already dealt with Smith and the prototype, Morgan," he patted the gun on his belt, "It's taken care of."
"It's not that, S-Shepard," Morgan was visibly shaken, but he pushed on, "XO Lawson, she performed a blood test on herself, sir. She didn't give a reason, b-but she insisted on doing it herself."
"A blood test? What for?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow in bewilderment.
"I had no idea, sir. But she left the sample by mistake," Morgan became even more unstable as he came to his point, "I-I ran the sample again, sir. I know I had no right, but her behavior was… off. I was c-con-concerned."
Shepard put his hand up. "Slow down. You won't be in any trouble. Just tell me what you found."
"P-poison, sir. More accurately, a micro-virus. It needs to be detonated before the poison will be released into her system…" He paused and fidgeted with his hands, pulling some papers from his chest pocket and handing them to Shepard, "But there appears to be a failsafe, sir."
"Poison? Failsafe?" Confusion spread across Shepard's face as he looked at the information on the paper, "What does that mean?"
"It seems that if the v-virus isn't activated within a certain period of time, the thing separating it from her blood will dissolve, releasing the poison anyway," Morgan finished.
Shepard ran his hand over his head and began to pace, his thoughts racing through his head.
"Is there a cure? Can it be removed?" he asked.
"There has to be a way to deactivate it," the doctor replied, "The person who injected her would know how," He was starting to calm down now that his task was complete.
After a moment of contemplation, Shepard made a decision.
"Morgan, I need you to suit up. Bring whatever supplies you think might be useful in treating XO Lawson's… condition," he told the man.
Hesitantly, Morgan nodded, "Yes, sir."
"Meet me in the CIC in 5 minutes. We're going after her."
With that, Shepard stepped inside the elevator, watching Morgan turn to leave as the doors shut. He leaned against the back of the lift, his mind now realizing what Miranda was so afraid of when they spoke. He still didn't understand why she didn't confide in him – but it must've been something big, or else she wouldn't have resorted to the secrecy.
He stared down at the weapon now attached to his hip, 'I feel bad for the son-of-a-bitch who did this.'