A/N: Sorry for the wait. It's been a long couple of days. Anywho, this is another in between sort of chapter. Lighthearted and such. Hopefully it is still entertaining for you guys and you aren't bored of me yet, haha. Once again, Shepard is a little shit and Miranda has to deal with it. Ooooooh booooy.
Don't get her wrong, Miranda was certain she had done the right thing in liberating Shepard, but that didn't make handling…this…any easier. Honestly, the woman was heralded as the savior of the universe, this was just ridiculous.
"Just get up, Shepard," Miranda ordered irritably for the umpteenth time.
Shepard lay face down in their rented, and clearly ill kept, bed. The best Miranda could say about the room they had stayed in was that it was dingy, just as the dozen others they had occupied had been, and now she was keen to be on their way. Unfortunately for her, Shepard clearly didn't share the sentiment.
"I can't get up," Shepard moaned into the sheets. "I'm a terrible person."
Miranda bit back a groan and gave in for a few moments, sitting down on the edge of the mattress with a huff. Enough time had passed now that they could finally relax a bit. The past week or so had been a hectic affair full of far too much slinking about for her tastes.
The time they had taken getting here was reminiscent of the first few days she had spent in hiding after fleeing her father before reaching the safety of Cerberus operatives. Shepard and Miranda, being forced to keep a low profile, had been planet hopping endlessly on mostly unreliable transports piloted by shady individuals.
At first Shepard had seemed to be enjoying herself, Miranda had noted with some amusement. Ever the golden child, such open rebellion seemed to excite her. Now though, apparently Shepard's conscience had caught up with her.
"I'm awful and I'm going to die," Shepard continued to whine. "I have to go back." She sat up suddenly, whipping around. "Let's go back."
"We're not going back," Miranda maintained. Honestly, she would have agreed if she knew that was what Shepard genuinely wanted, but this was just guilt, and she had to remain the rational one. God knows Shepard was incapable of fulfilling the role.
Shepard let out a childish sigh and shook her head, leading Miranda to roll her eyes, exasperated. The woman had been in this state for the past couple of days now, and though Miranda knew it would pass, it didn't make suffering through it any easier. Lately she had taken to distracting Shepard in the ways that only she could whenever the issue came up, but now wasn't exactly and opportune time. They had to be checked out of the room in less than an hour, and there was a shuttle they needed to be on that was departing in under two.
They were in the safety of the terminus systems now, so they had a bit more leg room to work with. She had sent word to one of the more trusted of her old contacts for aid, and they were supposed to be meeting her that day. Miranda had been getting them by well enough thus far, but they were running on some seriously limited funds.
She couldn't exactly walk up and do it herself for obvious reasons, and so the contact had made a withdrawal on their behalf from the account of one of her many pseudonyms. Miranda had made a substantial amount, being as high up as she was on the Cerberus totem pole for so many years. Luckily, events had shaped her into an incredibly paranoid woman as well as a wealthy one.
She had dozens of caches under many names hidden all about the galaxy. She had never known just why she had been making them at the time. Reassurance she had supposed, a safety net to fall back on should anything happen, though more likely it could be chalked up to her extensive trust issues. Either way, she was glad now that she had the foresight to plan ahead.
Once they had more funds to work with, they could really get down to business. Shepard's omni tool had been discarded at the very beginning. The Alliance had their grubby paws all over the woman, and Miranda knew they would be on the lookout for any registered activity.
It wasn't safe for Shepard to go long without one however, as the devices had been so thoroughly integrated into society. They needed to purchase a replacement as soon as possible. Should they ever get separated for whatever reason, Miranda needed to ensure they had a way to stay in contact with one another. God forbid Shepard was ever triggered into having one of her episodes and Miranda had no idea where she was.
"Get up, Shepard," she ordered again. "We don't have time for this."
With a heavy sigh Shepard reluctantly slid off the mattress and stood. "Fine," she groused petulantly, "but when I wind up in hell for being a horrible person you'll be looking down with a lot to feel guilty for."
Miranda stood as well, arms crossed. "Don't worry, I'm sure I'll be right alongside you."
Shepard sat at an undersized table in some seedy bar she had forgotten the name of with her arms crossed and a pout along her lips. For whatever reason, Miranda was continually insisting that she stay out of trouble and keep out of her way. The rational part of Shepard's mind knew that Miranda was merely looking out for her. After all, she needed to keep a low profile if she didn't want to be identified on the street. Still, the irrational part of her mind, which was the part that most often won out, was none too pleased with the turn of events.
Being on the run was far less glamorous than she had originally thought.
Miranda was across the establishment in a dimly lit booth, deeply engrossed in conversation with some smartly dressed asari. Shepard watched them bitterly for a time, before growing bored. She was used to action, to being in control. Commander Shepard was the one who talked to contacts and shook down people for information. She didn't wait around on cheap chairs while other people did the work for her.
Still, she knew she would do as she had been told and merely settle for watching the two with careful eyes. At least, that was what she had intended to do until Miranda activated her omni tool and began punching in some data while, to Shepard's horror, the asari discreetly whipped out a pistol under the table and kept it carefully trained on the woman's abdomen.
Shepard's heart dropped, and she began to panic. Miranda had claimed this would be a quick in and out affair. She had been working with the asari for years, there would be no danger in the meeting. How had things turned so sour so quickly? Shepard shot out of her seat, dreading what may happen next. If she lost Miranda here, now, what would she do? Where would she go? What would be the point?
Unable to calm herself enough to stop and rationally think about the situation, Shepard headed towards them. If the asari was made aware of her presence, she would know there was no way she could survive taking out Miranda. Usually, being in public aided in situations such as this, but the state this establishment was in, it was obviously catered towards serving the unlawful and unjust. Miranda could be in very real danger.
She approached quickly, and as soon as she was near enough, the asari was snarling at Miranda. "What is this?" She gestured towards Shepard with the hand that wasn't currently holding a loaded gun under the table. "You set me up?"
If Shepard thought the situation was already as frightening as it could be, she was dead wrong. That was because Miranda had yet to turn around and give her the most terrifying look that she had ever experienced. Miranda's gaze was murderous, her eyes wide in silent warning and her lips and almost imperceptibly thin line.
It was amazing how when she turned around to face the asari once more, her face bore the same stoic expression it had throughout the entire exchange thus far. "Of course not. What could I possibly have to gain from that?" She reached out to grasp Shepard's arm and yanked her far more forcefully than necessary into the booth beside her. "Hired muscle for my next job," she lied smoothly. "Unfortunately, it apparently has trouble comprehending simple instructions such as staying put."
Miranda had just referred to her as 'it', boy was she in trouble.
"Shall we carry on?" Miranda pressed.
"Fine," the asari relented at length, "but keep your attack dog on its leash."
Okay, now Shepard was starting to get a little offended.
Miranda continued working on her omni tool as she had been before Shepard's untimely arrival, and then nodded to her contact. "There, you should find everything as promised, and a bit more, for the confusion."
The asari hesitated for a moment before holstering her pistol and activating her own omni tool, eyes growing wide when she realized just how much of a bonus Miranda had offered for Shepard's intrusion.
Miranda honestly didn't mind having to pad the promised price. This particular contact and her had a long history of successful transactions, in which Miranda always attempted a show of generosity such as this. That was why she had felt comfortable trusting the alien with her funds so blindly in the first place. Quite easily the asari could have emptied the account and run, but instead she had done as asked and brought the money to Miranda out of loyalty to ensure further business. It was her phony displays of kindness that had instilled that devotion. Frankly, Shepard had offered her a convenient excuse in this case. Now she knew she could likely trust this woman once more, should the need arise.
"A pleasure working with you as always, Ms. Solheim. I'll be leaving now, and you won't be until I'm completely out of sight." The words were said kindly, but the threat they formed was palpable.
"Of course," Miranda agreed amicably with a nod.
Her contact slid out of her side of the booth, stood, and without another word headed for the exit.
Shepard flinched as Miranda turned on her the very moment they were alone. "What the hell were you thinking?" she demanded.
"Hey," Shepard defended quickly, "she pulled a gun out on you."
"Yes," Miranda replied pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, "just as she does every time we do business to ensure I never screw her out of a deal." She let her hand fall to glare at Shepard once more. "They same way I do it to her every time the roles are reversed."
Well that was certainly an odd way to ensure loyalty in a partnership. For as long as she lived, Shepard would never quite understand the mannerisms of outlaws. "Well how was I supposed to know all that if you insist on never telling me anything until after you do it?" Shepard shot back.
Shepard had a point there. Since this whole business had started, she had been continually left out of the loop. But Miranda merely deflected the truth with her irritation at the interruption, she was too annoyed to assume any guilt for this. "You could have gotten us both killed." That much at least was true.
Shepard softened a bit. Miranda flirted with irritation on most days, cranky merely happened to be her default mood, but it had been a long time since she had been outright angry with Shepard.
"I'm sorry," she offered quickly, attempting to mend the situation. "This is just really different for me. I'm not used to sneaking around like this. For me, it's always been a lot of angry yelling until I get my way and-"
"Kicking down doors?" Miranda supplied, the hint of a smile on her face.
Shepard's chest lightened at the sight. "Exactly," she said.
"Look," Miranda started, turning her head to catch Shepard's eye, "I understand that you're usually in charge. You have to trust me though, Jane. If we want to get through this, it's going to take tact and discretion, and sometimes you will need to take a back seat."
Letting out a heavy sigh, Shepard nodded her understanding. "Okay," she allowed. "I trust you." And then she surprised Miranda by giving her a serious look. "But sometimes, you're going to have to trust me. You're not alone anymore, Miranda. I can help, and I will, with anything. You just have to let me. Okay?"
Under the table, Miranda's hand found Shepard's knee and gave it a comforting squeeze in a rare display of affection. "I think I can manage," was all she could trust herself to say, as suddenly she found her throat rather thick.
Shepard smiled at her, but suddenly remembered something from the exchange she was dying to explore. "So," She drawled out, wearing a mischievous smirk. "Solheim?"
Miranda's brow furrowed in confusion and she tilted her head to the side. "What about it?"
Shepard shrugged. "Nothing, just how many aliases do you have?"
"In my entire history?" Miranda questioned incredulously. No way would she be able to remember that.
"No," Shepard amended quickly, "like currently active ones."
"Hmm," Miranda hummed thoughtfully, running through the names in her mind. "Thirteen?" she tried after a moment, but her face quickly fell. "Oh wait, no, twelve," she corrected herself. "I forgot I had Alice pass away because her existence came under scrutiny."
Shepard blinked, amazed. "You're a little too good at living outside the law."
Miranda merely smiled knowingly and offered an indifferent shrug. "I've had some practice."
To her surprise, Shepard suddenly looked displeased with the information. Her face scrunched up as she seemed to be debating whether or not to ask a question. Miranda had seen this expression on her former commander many times. She knew she only had to wait a moment before the woman cracked.
"But," and there it was, "you're Miranda right?" Shepard asked cautiously, not sure if she wanted to know the answer. She couldn't imagine the person beside her ever being anyone but Miranda Lawson. The concept was oddly disconcerting.
"Of course," Miranda replied easily, confused by the question.
Shepard needed clarification. She would feel awful if she found out somewhere down the line that she had been calling the woman by a false name all along. What if Miranda hated this identity? What if she had been forced to take it up when she joined with Cerberus and Shepard was constantly reminding her of that? "Like, you were born, er," she faltered, catching her mistake, "created, as Miranda?"
Catching on to her concerns, Miranda couldn't help but smile as affection warmed her. "I was, yes." She noted with amusement that Shepard looked relieved by the affirmation.
There was silence as Shepard contemplated the notion that Miranda had fled from her father, and yet had kept the name he had given her. Had it merely been sentimentality? Or was it something else?
"Why didn't you change your name?" She couldn't help but question, taking Miranda off guard.
"You don't like Miranda?" The woman teased, unsure of how to answer. It was her name, she had simply kept it. There was no deep hidden meaning in the gesture.
"Stop," Shepard scolded lightly, "you know what I mean. Wouldn't you have been safer with an alias?"
Miranda considered that. Shepard was right, to a point. If her father was determined to reach her however, no name could have kept him at bay. He was not a man who was easily deceived, and once she had the Illusive Man at her back, the act of choosing a new title would have been senseless.
"That was the point of Cerberus," she explained softly. "As much as my father hated someone messing with his possessions, the Illusive Man was even worse, and he had an impressive amount of heavy artillery to back up his territorial urges. Once I convinced him I was of use, I was untouchable."
"Fair enough." Shepard accepted the reasoning, though she bristled at the explanation. The closer she had grown to Miranda, the more she had grown to resent the Illusive Man and his blatant exploitation of the woman and her abilities. Miranda throwing the word possession around so casually made her blood boil. Shaking off the sudden wave of anger, she pressed on. "I just figured there might be another reason, you know," she hesitated for a moment before continuing, "to make a change."
Miranda knew what was being asked. Why hadn't she changed her name to rid herself of her troubled past for good? Perhaps the gesture would have been merely symbolic in nature, but it may have felt freeing. She would be lying if she said she had never considered it.
"Shepard," she replied slowly, forming the words as she went along, not quite sure herself of the answer. "I shed everything about my old life when I left, but my name was never the true issue. I considered it for a time," she explained honestly, "but in the end it would have offered me no peace. I'll never wear the name Lawson like a badge of honor, but it's who I am."
She thought about that for a moment. She hadn't intended to say the words, but with the way Shepard was looking at her with so much unreserved fondness, she was glad she did. It felt right, and that in itself was freeing enough.
"Obviously I've used cover names before, but," she wavered, searching for the right way to express the feeling in a manner Shepard could understand, "I don't know. It let me have something stable to return to. It was comforting, familiar, even with all of the resentment attached."
Shepard nodded her understanding, smiling warmly. Miranda was struck with the sudden notion that though she had never felt any substantial emotional connection to her identity, and found more of herself in the work she did than any name she had worn, she could no longer imagine herself being anyone other than the person Shepard knew her as.
She was Miranda. Miri when Shepard was feeling particularly sentimental, Miss Lawson when things took a more playful turn. And then there were the moments when she had Shepard to herself. When the lights were off and Shepard was writhing beneath her and she was, tenderly, breathlessly, Miranda, the most important woman in the universe.
To be Miranda to Shepard was all she ever needed to be, and certainly all she ever wanted to be.
"I think I'm fine as I am," she said softly, suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed.
"Good," Shepard replied sincerely, "as long as you're happy."
Miranda hummed in agreement, surprising Shepard once more as she slouched down a bit to rest her head on the woman's shoulder. "I am."
It hadn't taken long for Shepard to pick out her new omni tool, as the selection had been fairly limited, and once that business had been taken care of the only thing left to do was to grab a quick bite to eat and acquire a room to spend the night in. Shepard had convinced Miranda to splurge in celebration of their small fortune, and they found themselves in a nicer location than they had been of late.
The ship they had booked passage on for their next destination would be leaving the following afternoon, so they had almost a full day to kill. For awhile they lounged about in the bedroom, talking about everything and nothing and letting time slip away, before Miranda grew restless as usual and needed to launch a mini mission for herself.
That was what Shepard had affectionately taken to referring to these instances as. In her head of course, no doubt Miranda would roll her eyes in a huff if the title were ever shared aloud. She was not fond of being analyzed.
Of course that didn't stop Shepard from doing it. She had quickly taken notice of an unemployed Miranda's mannerisms. It appeared idle wasn't one of her modes, and she would sooner invent a task for herself than remain inactive for long. Thus, Shepard often found herself trailing after the woman on the way to a public terminal to hack into some system or other and do god knows what.
Not to mention, there was still the issue of Oriana. Shepard understood how removed Miranda felt from the situation. With the advanced technology of the Normandy long gone, it was much harder for her to coordinate with the agents protecting her sister and keep up to date on all of the goings on.
Shepard trusted Oriana to be in good hands however, as before she had been grounded she had contacted Liara. Her old friend had gladly used her vast resources to pull together a fantastic team that could protect the girl. Miranda had been understandably reluctant at first, as she had her own agents on the job, but even she had to admit that Liara's team was far more efficient, highly trained, and trustworthy. Not to mention they came free of charge.
Miranda had spent hours upon hours poring over their records before eventually agreeing to the change, putting her faith in Shepard's assurances.
That was why they now stood in the lobby of the building they had rented a room from, diligently staring down at a terminal screen. Well, at least Miranda was. Shepard was too busy appreciating the view. Miranda had her hair tied back in a loose ponytail, something she rarely did, and Shepard was enjoying the effects. It made the woman seem younger somehow, lighter and more open. Not to mention it certainly made for easier access.
It would be such an effortless affair to wrap her arms around Miranda's waist, to place a gentle kiss on the now exposed skin of her neck. Involuntarily, she shifted closer to the woman at the thought.
Suddenly, there was a hand on her chest, halting her progress. "No," Miranda said aloud with disinterest, never looking away from the screen in front of her.
Shepard's mouth dropped open in disbelief as she swatted the restraining hand away with her own. "I wasn't even doing anything," she reasoned.
"You were thinking about it," Miranda argued, again without looking up. Her face was solemn, serious, but Shepard hadn't missed the tinge of amusement that had colored Miranda's voice.
Crossing her arms, she put on a good show of pouting as she took a step back. Not that Miranda even gave her antics the time of day. The woman was far too engrossed in whatever it was she was reading. Sighing, Shepard wandered off and explored the large lobby.
It was clean, sure, but it was certainly tacky. The art hanging along the walls was absolutely ridiculous, and not for the first time Shepard mused about how she should have opted for a career as a painter. She was no Picasso, sure, but if someone was able to make a living off of the splatter of color she was currently observing then hell, she could be living in the lap of luxury right now.
She was startled out of her thoughts as she felt a tight grip around her arm. Miranda had come to her side, and it was clear from her tone that something was amiss.
"We need to go back to the room, now."
Shepard watched, eyebrows raised in bewilderment as Miranda collected the few belongings she had deemed necessary to travel with. "Where are you going?" She couldn't believe this. After everything, Miranda was just going to try and run off on her own.
"I," she hesitated, taking a deep breath, "I've received some news."
Shepard waited for elaboration, but none came. "About?" she finally pressed.
Miranda halted in her packing, glancing up at Shepard, and then quickly looking away. "Personal issues," she replied evasively. She didn't want to reveal too much. Should Shepard grow invested, there would be no way she would be leaving alone. Throughout their time together, Miranda had quickly come to terms with the fact that Shepard was someone she struggled with saying no to.
"Personal issues," Shepard repeated with an incredulous laugh. "What personal issues am I not privy to?"
"Shepard," Miranda responded with a heavy sigh, attempting to keep hold of her patience, "it's fine. There's just something I need to take care of."
"And I'll take care of it with you," she pushed, not willing to let this go.
"No you won't," Miranda maintained.
Shepard let out a sarcastic chuckle. "Sorry, do you not remember that conversation we literally just had about trust?"
"Wait here," Miranda ordered adamantly, blatantly ignoring the question as it had sent guilt flooding through her. "I'll make sure the room is paid up. No longer than a week and I'll be back."
Throwing her hands up in the air, Shepard shook her head utterly exasperated. What did she have to do to earn Miranda's trust? "And if you're not?" she questioned, fighting hard to keep the irritation out of her voice.
"I'll check in-" Miranda started, but she was interrupted almost immediately.
"That's not good enough. I'm not letting you go alone." Shepard let her hands fall back to her sides. "Especially if you can't even tell me what it is. Obviously that's only going to make me more nervous."
"Shepard, I can't drag you into this." She genuinely was sorry about that, but it just wouldn't work out.
"We're in this together. You're not getting rid of me now. Whatever it is, you don't have to tell me." She smirked, attempting to lighten the mood. "But I know you; your problems usually involve a lot of gunfire."
Miranda scoffed. "That's rich, coming from you."
Shepard chuckled in response, and she reached out to grab Miranda's hand. "Let me come. I'll help you, no questions asked if that's what you want." She offered the woman a beseeching look. "I won't be able to just sit here and wait not knowing if you're okay. Please, don't make me go through that."
Instead of softening like a normal human being, Miranda pulled away and only looked annoyed by the sentiment. "I can handle myself."
"I know," Shepard backpedaled quickly. That hadn't been what she was suggesting at all. "Trust me, I know. This is for me, not for you. You know how I worry." She shook her head. "What's so bad that you can't share it with me?"
"It's not that," Miranda assured her, "it's that I physically can't bring you along."
"Why not?" Shepard pressed, even more confused now. She thought this had been Miranda emotionally closing herself off, not about the logistics of travel.
"Because what I'm doing involves my father," Miranda elaborated, "and I know you'd want to help-"
"Of course," Shepard cut in eagerly. No way was Miranda doing anything involving that man alone. That was something she'd never allow.
"but you can't," Miranda continued, clearly annoyed at the interruption.
"Oh, well that clears things up," Shepard returned sarcastically.
Miranda sighed, she had known all along she would never get away with slinking off unquestioned. At least she had made a valiant effort. "Shepard, I told you how I had surveillance set up in my father's systems so I would have some warning if he ever got wind of Oriana's location." Shepard nodded, but said nothing. "Well, I've gotten wind of something else. Something involving the Illusive Man. They've been clearly having a dialogue and I need to figure out what they're discussing."
Well that wasn't good. Shepard took a step closer. "Do you think it involves you? You're the biggest link between them."
"Maybe," Miranda allowed, though she clearly was doubtful. "I'm not sure, but I…" she looked embarrassed. "I have this feeling, a bad one. I feel like I need to be there."
"What have you learned from-" Shepard started, but was quickly cut off.
"Nothing substantial," Miranda admitted. "Obviously I'm ill equipped here, and the people I had on the job haven't had much success. I've been in contact with Liara's men, but they need someone on site, and though many have offered to take the job, I don't trust any of them to come out of a visit alive. I need to do this." She looked down. "I want to do this."
Shepard scrutinized her carefully, uncertain of what to make of the statement. What was Miranda hoping to find, closure? Surely there were better ways than to throw herself into the line of fire. There was more to this than Miranda was admitting, that was for sure. The story din't quite add up, none of the pieces fit. She was holding something back.
Still, if this was something Miranda felt she needed to do personally, she would stand behind her every step of the way.
"I'm going back to Earth," Miranda continued, "somewhere you can't follow."
Shepard rolled her eyes. She wasn't about to let the Alliance being on the lookout for her scare her off now. "I think I'll take the risk."
"Jane…" Miranda sighed out, clearly frustrated.
"Come on, you're going to be sneaking around anyhow," Shepard pointed out.
"It's a risk we don't need to be taking," the woman retorted. "Forget the Alliance, the majority of civilians could pick you out of a crowd."
"I'll be good," Shepard promised childishly, "discreet. Buy me a hat."
Suddenly, for some reason she couldn't fathom, Miranda was laughing. The comment had been a joke, sure, but certainly not laugh out loud funny. She stared at the woman, perplexed.
"Well I know how much you want one of those," Miranda said seriously as soon as she had composed herself.
"What?" Shepard blinked, completely bewildered.
"Nothing," Miranda sighed out, fondly remembering Shepard's adventures with Hallex. It seemed like it had happened years ago now. She shook her head, willing her mind to return to the topic at hand. She needed to leave as soon as possible, and Shepard was proving to be a problem. Shepard wasn't going to back down and leave Miranda to face her father alone, and she didn't know if that made her feel ecstatic or livid.
Perhaps it was an even mixture of both.