Work Text:
"Okay, Shepard, how the hell do you do that?"
Miranda blinks, jolted out of her thoughts by Jack's loud, sudden question. She looks over to Shepard, who looks just as confused as she feels.
"Do what?" Shepard replies, dropping herself into the shuttle bench and crossing her arms behind her head as they lift off. Jack stays up, pacing back and forth in the cramped space. Miranda remains at the door, calculating — usually it’s a given that if they’re on the same mission, they stay at opposite ends of the shuttle, and now she doesn't know where to sit.
Jack waves her arms aimlessly in the air. "You know, that fuckin' thing you do — every time we fight? That crazy teleporting shit?"
Everything clicks for Miranda, and she settles down where she is. This is something she can explain. "You mean the biotic charge?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at Jack. Jack whirls on Miranda, fixing her with a glare before Shepard speaks up, stopping whatever expletive Jack has in her mouth before it escapes.
"Oh, that. Honestly…" Shepard looks down at the floor, rubbing her neck. "...I'm not sure? I figured it out when I woke up at the Lazarus facility. Panicked, flared my implant, and suddenly I was across the room."
Jack narrows her eyes. "So it's Cerberus tech, huh? Something they stuck in you when they brought you back?"
Miranda clears her throat. "Yes, we decided that upgrading the Commander's biotic implant would be a reasonable compromise during our reconstruction. I personally pulled our data on human biotics and used it to design hers — it was much easier to thread the implant through her whole body while she was in that state instead of waiting until after she was conscious."
Jack's eyes stay fixed on Miranda as she speaks, her frown deepening. "Your data on human biotics," she repeats, her voice low. "And where'd you get that, huh? What Cerberus cell?"
Miranda's face feels uncomfortably hot. How did she let herself get caught like this? She should've realized the second they visited Teltin. "It...it was classified," Miranda admitted. "No sources in the database. Even with my clearance."
"So Pragia, then."
Miranda shrinks back against the wall, a tingle across her skin as her barrier rises in the air on instinct. Shepard, too, tenses, starting to lean forward. Jack's eyes burn holes in Miranda, and then —
"So, could I do it too? Like, if I tried?" A smirk comes to Jack's face, and Miranda relaxes slightly.
"I don't know," Miranda admits. "If that's where the data I used was from, it's possible your implant is comparable in... invasiveness. Not that you've ever submitted to a full scan…"
"Yeah, not letting a Cerberus medbay get a good look at my body, thanks. Shoulda held onto your kid torture factory if you wanted that," Jack sneers. Finally, she sits down across from Shepard. "But really, how do you do it? Like, mentally, it's gotta be something else. I can float a bit and shit but I can't run an FTL mass effect field on myself."
Shepard relaxes now that Jack's done talking to Miranda. Ever since their little spat in Miranda's quarters, Shepard’s been quick to shut down anything more than a quick snipe between them. She puts a finger to her chin. “I’m not sure how to describe it,” she admits. “Hell, you know better than anyone how subjective biotic training is.”
“It’s a form of barrier creation, actually,” Miranda pipes up, despite herself. She can’t help it, Shepard’s never good at the technical details. “You can see that when she arrives at her destination, her barrier’s flared up and ready to take hits again, right?”
“Wasn’t asking you, cheerleader, but since Shepard’s thinkin’ like it’s magic again, keep going,” Jack says with a sideways glance at Miranda.
“Well — I don’t have the implant or the skill myself, but I imagine it’s the same way you form a barrier, full-body simultaneous activation of the eezo in your nervous system, just...directed, the same way you would a warp field.”
“That tracks, yeah,” Shepard admits. “It comes naturally to me, but…”
“To be fair, no other human being alive — not even me — has your type of biotics. You were constructed to have them, they’re as natural to you now as breathing,” Miranda says with a bit of pride. “I know some asari have similar abilities, but as far as humans go — you might be the only one.”
“Except me, maybe,” Jack points out, tapping her foot, a wicked grin forming on her face. “Hey, we’re still gonna be tracking this Blue Suns op for a while, yeah? I should try it out on one of those losers next time. Even if I fuck up, it’s not like a Sun’s ever been able to shoot straight in his life, and you can tell Zaeed I said that.”
Shepard chuckles to herself. “You pick a fight with that old man, it’d better be off the ship,” she warns. “The hull’s not thick enough for you two on a good day.”
Miranda relaxes as Jack and Shepard start trading barbs, thankful that her part in the conversation is done with. As they dock with the Normandy, she considers the possibility that Jack really could charge the way Shepard does — and finds herself intrigued at the prospect. The data she could get if Jack would just cooperate for once…
She shakes her head, opening the shuttle door and stepping out into the cargo bay. The only way she’s getting Jack into the medbay is if she’s unconscious. Better to just forget about it and hope Jack doesn’t cause too much damage with her little experiment.
“Could you stay focused, Jack?!” Miranda shouts over the gunfire as Jack flares blue for the millionth time since they landed on this rock.
“It’s fine, Shepard’s got it!” Jack shouts back. “C’mon, c’mon, I can see him,” she mutters, crouched behind the table, just her head poking above and staring daggers at a Blue Sun desperately trying to unjam his weapon. Shepard flies from merc to merc, a storm of power that seems to be distracting their enemies from even remembering that Jack and Miranda are plinking at their back line. Miranda fires off a few shots to a Sun that’s getting too close to Shepard’s back, and then Jack screams.
Miranda glances over, and Jack’s so bright it hurts to look at her — and then she does it. In a flash, she’s across the battlefield with her hand around the Sun’s throat. Another burst of blue, and his head collapses in on itself in a bloody crunch, spattering Jack’s armor with red. Shepard turns from their last fallen foe with raised eyebrows while Jack drops the mangled merc to the ground.
“Fuck yes!” Jack whoops as Miranda leaves cover, rolling her eyes. “Shepard, you might be Cerberus’ latest, but I’m the original badass biotic bitch!”
Shepard laughs. “You all right?”
“Uh,” Jack says, a strange wetness coming into her voice. She winces as Miranda approaches her, putting a hand to her head. “Well, I sort of...hurt? All over?”
“You probably strained your implant too hard,” Miranda scoffs, putting a hand on her hip. “You really should’ve practiced in a controlled environment—”
“It’s different this time,” Jack murmurs, her words growing faint as she smears her hand down her face. She comes away with blood on her hand. More trickles down her nose, and then a red tear streams from one eye. “Uh. Fuck,” she says, with a cough that spatters yet more blood across Miranda’s face, making her step back. “I might…”
“Shit,” Shepard curses, catching Jack as she stumbles forward. “Jack? Jack?”
“Getting sorta dark, Shepard,” Jack strains. A chill strikes at Miranda’s heart. “Uh…”
Shepard looks to Miranda, then thrusts Jack in her direction. “Get her to the medbay. Now. I don’t think medigel’s gonna do this alone.”
Miranda catches Jack. “What about—”
“I can handle the rest myself. Keep Jack alive. That’s an order,” Shepard says, her jaw set hard as she keys Jack’s medigel code into her omni-tool. Miranda nods, taking Jack by the shoulder and trying to guide her back the way they came through the mining complex. Jack stumbles with her, uncharacteristically quiet, a hand over her mouth. Her breath comes in spurts and coughs.
“Bet you’re loving this,” Jack mumbles as they find the exit, the shuttle clearly in sight at the end of the canyon.
“I’m not,” Miranda hisses. “Just keep moving.”
“Still barking orders,” Jack mutters, and then goes limp, forcing Miranda to kneel to keep her from landing face-first in the dirt. “Fuck!” Jack hisses, and Miranda can feel her muscles straining to try and wrench out of Miranda’s grip, but it’s no use. Miranda’s no slouch in the physical strength department — genetic engineering didn’t miss that obvious one — but even so, lifting nearly two hundred pounds of deadweight-Jack-plus-armor requires a burst of biotics to reduce Jack’s mass. Miranda slings her body across her shoulders and runs across the field towards the shuttle, its door lifting up as they approach. At least their pilot’s paying attention.
She sets Jack down across one of the shuttle benches and slams on the intercom on the wall. “Get us back to Normandy, and tell Chakwas we’ve got a medical emergency!” she shouts. The shuttle’s engines kick into gear, the inertial dampeners a second late, making Miranda waver in place as she stares down at Jack’s still form. Jack raises her head, spits red on the wall, and grins at her with bloodstained teeth.
“Bet you...she finds something Cerberus wants down there...and blows it up,” she says with a ragged laugh. “She just wanted you out of the way... so you don’t bitch in her ear about it.”
“This isn’t funny, Jack,” Miranda says with a scowl, sitting at her feet, drumming her fingers on her knees.
“Sure it is.” Jack coughs a few times, and then more. Miranda stands up again, staring down at her like she can figure out what she can possibly do here in this shuttle with nothing but an automated dispenser in Jack’s armor. “It’s gotta be or it’s just fucking humiliating, right?” Jack groans, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.
“If you’d just let Chakwas look over you when you came aboard — “
“Shut up, Cerberus,” Jack mumbles. “Let me die in peace, Christ.”
“You aren’t dying,” Miranda insists. She almost wants to reach out, touch her shoulder, but even in this state Jack could always just flash a singularity inside of Miranda, so she relents. She needs to speak to Jack on her level. “You can’t die yet. We haven’t had the chance to fight this out properly.”
“Mm...yeah. Good point.” Jack laughs weakly. “Don’t worry, princess. Your day’s...coming.” Her breathing slows, and Miranda frantically checks her pulse — but she’s just passed out. Miranda breathes a sigh of relief. Hopefully the medi-gel is doing enough to stop whatever internal bleeding is going on — a quick scan with her omni-tool shows no fluid buildup in her lungs, at least. They’ll need to stick her in an MRI to figure out much else.
The door lifts to reveal they’ve made it to the shuttle bay, Chakwas and Hawthorne standing with a stretcher between them. Miranda loads her on, and they’re off to the medbay, to unravel exactly what part of Cerberus’ implant went wrong.
It’s a nightmare.
That thought keeps repeating in Miranda’s mind as she stares at the scan of Jack’s body, the network of haphazard implants that lay beneath the lattice of surgical scars on her skin. She’d never had the chance to study Jack’s body before, and the mess of tattoos distracted from the dozens of lines of jagged raised tissue. Now she can’t look away from them, just beyond the medical imaging screen, Jack’s half-naked body still for once on the medbay table.
They stuck an IV in her, and a few careful injections of medi-gel at key points stopped any further bleeding. But the data they got from the scan, estimates on the progressive damage no amount of medi-gel could heal so long as Jack is still using her implants, is far more troubling than a nosebleed. Already Miranda’s running through surgical procedures and replacements in her head. The worst part of it is how solvable this is, how sloppy the Teltin staff’s work is. Cerberus should be better.
But coming across sloppy, ill-conceived Cerberus operations seems to be a hobby of Shepard’s.
Jack stirs, breaking Miranda out of her thoughts. She groans, sitting up and putting a hand to her head. “Fuck me,” are the first words out of her mouth, and Chakwas chuckles from her chair.
She stands up and approaches Jack, crossing her arms. “You had us worried there, Jack. How are you feeling?”
“Like shit, but less shit than when I was bleeding out of every hole,” Jack replies with a tired smirk. “Wait, us?” she asks, narrowing her eyes and swiveling her head around the medbay. She snarls when she sees Miranda, yanking the IV out of her wrist and squaring her shoulders. Miranda jumps, scrambling past her screen to clamp the IV down.
“Get the fuck back, Cerberus!” Jack shouts, blue particles wavering off of her as she leaps to her feet, pushing Miranda against the terminal she’d been using. Miranda’s own biotics flare in response, but as she opens her mouth she just sees the readouts of Jack’s implants again, and her words falter coming out of her mouth.
“Calm down,” she manages.
“Fuck you! God, should’ve known you’d take any opportunity to get more fuckin’ data for your creepy-ass boss!”
Jack’s palms pulse with power, and as she raises one, Miranda cries out, “Stop it!”
“Stop what? Fighting back against being an experiment again? Got news for you, sister—”
“Your biotics! You’re killing yourself!” Miranda says, louder than she means to.
Jack pauses, just long enough for Chakwas to gently touch her shoulder. “She’s right, Jack,” Chakwas says softly.
Jack glowers, but her biotics fade out and she leans back against the table. “The hell are you talking about?”
“We had to take extensive readings of your implants in order to understand what went wrong and how to help you,” Chakwas explains. “It’s...well, what you experienced, this recent episode? Miranda said it was after you attempted one of Shepard’s charges. But that was just an...acute event. This will happen again.”
“Your biotics are tearing you apart from the inside out,” Miranda continues, stepping back behind her terminal. “With enough time...they’ll destroy your nervous system. Every time you activate your implants, you’re subtly warping everywhere they’re attached, every eezo nodule in your body. The effect is normally subtle enough that medi-gel can’t repair it unless you cause sudden extreme damage to parts not normally affected, like today when you managed to rupture most of your mucus membranes and the lining of your stomach. Eventually it will paralyze you, or in the worst case, your brain will degrade, to the point of effective death.”
Jack purses her lips. “How long ‘till that happens?”
Miranda runs a hand through her hair. “I don’t know. I don’t know exactly what the rate of decay is — we don’t have any longitudinal data.”
“Gimme a ballpark, asshole. Anything.”
“Well, assuming you’ve kept up a constant use of your biotics since they were installed...I’d expect nerve damage to the point of paralysis somewhere in your body within five years.” Miranda swallows. “Given that you’re probably in combat a lot more since you joined us...I can’t say for certain, but faster than that.”
“But we’re counting in years,” Jack points out. “Everybody keeps calling this Collector shit a suicide mission. I’ll make it to there?”
Miranda bites her lip. “Most likely.”
“Then who gives a shit?” Jack growls. “Fuck it. Delete that scan and let me outta here.”
“No!” Miranda objects, recoiling. “This information could save your life. The corrections — I’ve done this work before, with surgery we could —”
“I am not letting Cerberus bitches inside my body again,” Jack hisses, stepping up to Miranda, who steps back despite the fact that she’s nearly a head taller. “Delete. It.”
The door to the medbay slides open, sparing Miranda the effort of a response as Shepard comes into the room. She takes one look at the two of them and flashes blue, the two of them sliding backwards from each other. “I thought you two could keep this under control for a minute, but I guess I was wrong,” she sighs, rubbing her temples.
“Cheerleader’s got scans of my shit. I want ‘em gone,” Jack says, folding her arms and trying to maintain some semblance of dignity despite just being biotically manhandled.
Miranda, for her part, runs a hand through her frazzled hair and clears her throat. “Shepard, her implants are tearing her apart. Doctor Chakwas and I could use these scans to design a surgical procedure to correct them. It’d take hours, and she wouldn’t be combat-ready for a while, but — ”
“How bad is it?” Shepard asks, looking to Jack.
Jack shrugs aggressively. “I dunno. She said paralysis in a few years or whatever. Not her call to make.”
“She’s right, Miranda,” Shepard says, putting a hand on her hip. “It’s her body and her life. Delete the scans.”
“If we don’t do something this is going to happen again!” Miranda argues, her face heating up. “What if we need her in the Collector base and she overextends herself like this? She’s not reliable at the best of times, we don’t need her body itself betraying us too!”
Jack barks out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, princess, I’m a dangerous disloyal wild card, wooo, same shit you always say. Shepard, come on.”
“Delete the scans, Miranda. That’s an order,” Shepard says, glaring down Miranda.
Miranda scoffs, but she steps up to her terminal anyway. “Yes, ma’am,” she grunts, deleting the files off the Normandy’s drives. “But I want it on record that I objected.”
“Noted. Karin, make sure to send me a full report on this incident. I’m sure we can find another solution,” Shepard says with a side-glance at Chakwas.
“Understood, Commander.” Chakwas gives Miranda a short look before standing to attention. “I’ll ask Jack’s consent for anything further, of course.”
“Yeah, you better,” Jack grumbles, stalking up towards the exit. Shepard catches her arm as she passes, and Jack pauses in her steps.
“You all right?” Shepard asks under her breath.
“Fine, just let me get some fuckin’ clothes on,” Jack mutters, eyes flitting towards the ground. “Thanks, Shep.”
The two of them walk out together, and Miranda falls against the wall, putting a hand to her forehead. “She always takes her side,” she groans, half to herself.
“She and Jack have a lot in common,” Chakwas says gently. “Both have suffered under Cerberus’ projects. And I don’t practice medicine without the patient’s consent.”
“Something I suppose Cerberus hasn’t always been on top of,” Miranda admits, looking up. “But you agree with me, right? They’re acting insane.”
“They’re...within their rights,” Chakwas says carefully, sitting down at her desk with a sigh. “I’d like to help her, of course I would. But it is her life, to live or to lose. Thank you for your help today, Miranda,” she adds. “I’m used to Alliance standard implants. The worst I’ve had to deal with are L2s.”
“Cerberus implants shouldn’t be this bad,” Miranda insists. “My latest implants are Cerberus-designed — half by me. I just wish I could correct one of our mistakes once in a while.”
Chakwas laughs softly. “Welcome to being an employee, Ms. Lawson. Some things are just out of your hands.”
“Maybe,” Miranda murmurs, standing and heading for the door. She checks her omni-tool as she leaves. Good.
Her own copies are still intact.
The first place Miranda goes after they leave Aite is the bar.
She knows it’s stupid, that she should be helping Chakwas look after David, that she’s got a report to file with the Illusive Man, that there’s a millon things one should be doing after that disaster. But Shepard says nothing as Miranda separates from her, Jack and David at the elevator. As Miranda considers the shelves of alien alcohol before her, no one calls her on the intercom for her help.
“Shepard stocks this herself, you know,” a voice says in her ear, and Miranda jumps back, finding Kasumi standing behind her with a hand on her hip. “So it’s all for her tank-level tolerance. Go easy.”
Miranda shakes her head and sighs. “Any suggestions?” she asks, turning back to the bar.
“Mm, the batarian ale’s not bad — if you drink it like hard liquor. One shot at a time. They drink it like beer.” Kasumi walks past Miranda and takes the bottle, along with two shot glasses from below the bar. “Here, I’ll tend bar if you tell me what happened down there.”
Miranda shrugs and obediently takes a stool, watching as Kasumi pours their drinks. “It’s green,” Miranda notes with a sideways smile. She studies Kasumi, briefly — they haven’t had much in the way of conversation up till now, not helped by Kasumi’s tendency to wander about the ship cloaked.
“That it is.” Kasumi takes her glass and holds it up. “So...what are we toasting?”
“I wasn’t planning on toasting anything,” Miranda admits, taking her own glass and idly swirling the ale around. “Nor was I planning on a we being involved.”
“Well, I live here, so I end up drinking with everyone eventually,” Kasumi says. “Never expected you to show up, though.”
Miranda snorts. “And why’s that?” she asks, downing the drink and grimacing. Deeply bitter. It feels appropriate.
“Don’t act like you don’t know. Your whole prim, proper, professional act isn’t an accident. So, what cracked it?”
Miranda sighs. “Another Cerberus monstrosity.”
“Ooh, strong language from you.”
“Another failure resulting in dozens of deaths. Another project lead pushed to the breaking point by the pressure. Another unspeakable moral atrocity brought about with the best of intentions,” Miranda sneers, squeezing her shot glass. She catches herself before her biotics shatter the thing. She takes in a deep breath. “How much made it up here? Communications with Normandy were cut off the whole time.”
“Well, until EDI started warning us about another AI trying to make its way into her hardware,” Kasumi notes, taking her own drink. “That was exciting. Was it geth?”
“No. Not an AI either, not really. Can you…?” Miranda sets her glass back down on the table.
“Hey, I said easy,” Kasumi chides, though she smirks and pours her a second shot anyway. Miranda downs it before she speaks again, spurred on by the shine of Kasumi’s eyes under that silly hood.
“The project lead...he hooked up his brother, David, to the geth consensus. Forced him into it. The machinery they put him in…” Miranda shudders. “We did our best with him with those facilities. The lead — Archer — he gave us some help. Not willingly, of course. Shepard pretty much held him at gunpoint the whole time. Once David could move, we brought him back here. I expect Dr. Chakwas is looking over him now.”
“My God,” Kasumi murmurs, pouring herself a new shot. “Why isn’t everyone from the ground team in here?”
Miranda laughs. “They’re all being responsible.”
“Where are we taking the guy? Shepard wouldn’t give him back to Cerberus.”
“No, and we left Archer down there to get a pickup from someone else,” Miranda hisses. “Bastard.”
“I assume Jack almost gibbed the son of a bitch?” Kasumi asks, raising an eyebrow.
“...No, actually,” Miranda admits. “I expected it, but… for her, it was like there was no one else in the room but David. I guess she thought Shepard had him cowed. She respects her.”
“Strange, right?” Kasumi asks, smiling faintly. “Those two. They came in here after that whole Pragia thing together. Barely said a word to each other, but they were in here, just downing shots.”
Miranda purses her lips. “Are they…?”
“I don’t think so,” Kasumi says, waving her hand. “Shepard’s hung up on Liara. I wouldn’t put it past Jack to make an offer, but I don’t think Shepard would say yes.”
“Mm.” Miranda slumps forward, one elbow on the table, resting her forehead on her free hand. “I’m so tired of seeing this. I tried to tell myself Shepard didn’t know the whole truth, that Jack didn’t know the whole truth...but maybe Cerberus is exactly what they think it is.”
“Sometimes what looks like nuance is just a longhanded way of trying to deflect responsibility,” Kasumi says airily, finally taking her second shot. “Sometimes you just have to get down to the basics of things.”
“I guess so.” Miranda sets her glass back down on the bar. “One more for the road, I think.”
“You sure?”
“I can type up a report, I could do it in my sleep. I have a spellcheck VI, I just barely use it,” Miranda says with a laugh.
“All right, big girl, here you go,” Kasumi says with a wink. Miranda takes her last shot and stands, and finds herself much more wobbly than she’d anticipated. It’s fine. She’ll be fine. The fuzziness at the corners of her eyes feels like it’s taken the edge off this awful day.
“All right. I’m going,” Miranda declares. “To be responsible.”
“Don’t bump into anything! If you do, I’ll make EDI give me the recordings,” Kasumi says with a laugh.
“Remind me to put some more restraints in her programming,” Miranda mutters, heading out the door and towards her room. She manages to keep herself steady until she’s in, and flumps down at her desk, ready to start her drudgery.
Then she realizes her computer’s gone.
“EDI?” she calls to the ceiling, rubbing between her eyes. “What happened to my laptop?”
“Jack has taken it to her quarters in the cargo bay,” EDI informs her helpfully.
Miranda groans. “For a minute — a minute — I wasn’t actively despising that woman.” She gets to her feet.
“Commander Shepard authorized this action, Operative Lawson,” EDI says in a warning tone. “She said—”
“I don’t give a damn,” Miranda spits. “I’m getting it back. I have things to do.”
She storms out of her room in a huff, slamming on the elevator button once she’s in. She takes the steps down to Jack’s lair two at a time, stumbling as she hits the subdeck floor and bracing herself on the wall. She scowls. How dare that immature little—
Jack’s voice cuts off her line of thought. “How ‘bout this one?” she asks, so softly Miranda can barely hear it over the engines.
“Exomachinery Two. Yes, we had this back at home. I was good at it, before,” David replies.
“Hell yeah, I’ll snag some of Shep’s credits, we’ll get you set up.”
Miranda sneaks forward, and sees the two of them sitting on Jack’s bed, Miranda’s laptop balanced on David’s knees. Miranda blinks, trying to put things together through the haze, and steps forward one more time. Jack’s head snaps up.
She jumps off her cot, fists balled at her sides, a snarl on her face. “Back the fuck off!” she yells, blue particles swirling around her hands. David claps his hands over his ears and whimpers, and Jack suddenly deflates, looking over her shoulder. “Shit, uh — hold on a sec, David.”
Miranda puts her hands up in surrender but Jack storms over and grabs her by the upper arm, dragging her up the stairs a ways. “Leave him the hell alone,” she hisses under her breath, taking Miranda by the collar and pulling her in close enough to hear. “He’s had enough Cerberus fuckery in his life.”
“I — I didn’t come down here to bother him,” Miranda stammers, distracted by how close and intense Jack’s eyes are. “EDI said you took my computer, I was just...getting it back.”
Jack growls. “I told EDI to tell you that I was trying to give him somethin’ to do while we head to Grissom. You’re the only bitch on this boat with a laptop like that, so I took it. Wasn’t gonna make him play on an omni-tool.”
“I...didn’t listen to EDI,” Miranda admits, stepping back as Jack lets go. “I’m...I’m sorry. Is he doing okay?”
“The fuck do you care?” Jack spits.
“I’m not a robot, Jack,” Miranda insists. “Of course I care.”
“Really? You didn’t seem to give a shit after Pragia. Just kept needling me and making excuses for your spooky-eyed boss.” Jack leans against the wall, glaring up at Miranda. “Why wouldn’t you do the same thing now, huh? Is he a better victim for you?”
Miranda swallows, putting a hand to her forehead and looking at the floor. “I’m sorry, Jack. For what I said. How I acted. All right?”
“...huh.” Jack squints at her, then lets out a short laugh. “Holy shit. You hit the bar. That’s where your ass went, I thought I was gonna have to fight you for that thing.” She takes in a deep breath, lets it go. “Yeah, he’s...he’s doing all right. You know, considering. He likes the quiet down here, likes that it’s only me. Shep said he could stay up in the cabin, but I think he’s still a little...you know, weird around her, since she did have to shoot at him and all.”
“I’m glad,” Miranda says, looking up and meeting Jack’s eyes. “Keep the laptop, until we reach Grissom. I can manage on an omni-tool.”
“Damn straight you can,” Jack says with a smirk. “Like I’d ever let you have it back. But hey...go sleep that shit off. Bossman doesn’t need his precious report right away, right?”
Miranda nods. “You have a point. God, how long have we been up, anyway?”
“It’s not the hours, it’s the workouts,” Jack says, rolling her eyes. “Being in anything Shepard’s driving will beat the shit out of you, that’s for sure. I’ll bring it back later, ‘kay?”
“All right. Keep him safe,” Miranda says softly, turning to go.
“...yeah. I can do that,” Jack replies, but it sounds more like she’s talking to herself.
Jack drops off the laptop as they dock with Grissom — silently and without eye contact, but that suits Miranda just fine — and Miranda figures that’ll be the end of it. She doesn’t accompany Shepard and Jack as they take David aboard and deal with the paperwork of his admittance. She feels she’d be unwelcome, at best, and she hasn’t written Oriana in some time anyway.
She catches up on her official duties; despite what she told Jack, she’d taken the opportunity to relax a bit while they made their way to Grissom, and now there’s information to be handled and forwarded and squared away. She’s absorbed enough in her work that she only really registers the time passing when the Normandy starts to move again, but she doesn’t put much stock in where they’re headed. Shepard will let her know if she’s needed, anyway.
And when she’s done with all that, she pulls up Jack’s scans, again. She’s been looking at them, on and off, compiling notes, thinking of theories and ways to improve them without invasive or debilitating surgeries. That’s when Kasumi walks into her room.
“Can you get Jack out of the bar?” she asks, putting a hand on her hip. “She’s been there forever and she’s got a nasty glare.”
“Is that my job?” Miranda replies, raising an eyebrow. “It’s your room.”
“I’m not an idiot. She could kill me with a look and I’m not risking my neck pissing her off.” Kasumi paces back and forth in front of Miranda’s desk. “I just don’t want her breaking any of my stuff.”
“So talk to Shepard.”
“Shep’s in the cabin and the elevator’s locked to the lower decks, and she won’t respond to my calls,” Kasumi says with a sigh. “I think she’s talking to Liara or something. Believe me, I think things through, and this is all I can figure out. Wherever you go, she’s usually not. And if you get in a fight, I can at least count on you to try and take it outside.”
Miranda puts two fingers to her temples. Well...their last confrontation had actually ended with some kind of peaceful resolution. Maybe she can help. “All right,” she sighs, standing up. “But you owe me for this.”
“Sure, I’ll steal something nice for you next time we go somewhere civilized,” Kasumi says with a smirk. “I’ll hang out here until you come back. Or until I hear shouting and banging around. Whichever.”
“You know, there are other common areas of the ship you could socialize in,” Miranda says with a roll of her eyes, locking her laptop.
“Ooh, good point. I’ll go find the gym in the cargo bay, then.” Kasumi cloaks as she heads out the door, Miranda following behind her. They split at the elevator, and Miranda stops in front of the lounge’s door and steels herself.
All right. A deft touch, this time. At least she’s not the drunk one.
As she keys the door, Jack swivels around on her stool and squints. “Cheerleader?” she asks, a strange twist to her mouth. “Figures.”
Miranda ignores the obvious bait and walks in, looking around. Doesn’t look like any damage has been done so far. “Kasumi said you’re squatting in here like a gargoyle,” she says, turning to Jack. “What’s going on?”
“C’mere,” Jack slurs, waving her over. Miranda raises an eyebrow. “Sit down, Christ, I’m not gonna bite,” she adds, rolling her eyes with an exaggerated tilt of her head. “Have a drink. I’m chatty.”
“That’s not what Kasumi said,” Miranda says, warily approaching the bar. Jack reaches up and yanks her down onto a stool by the collar.
“That’s ‘cuz she didn’t even talk to me,” Jack grumbles as Miranda removes Jack’s hand from her neck with a scowl. “I know I’m a scary bitch, but Jesus, can’t people at least treat me like a person once in a while?” She pours another shot into her glass — the batarian ale, Miranda notes — and downs it quickly.
“You do have a habit of telling people to ‘fuck off’, if I recall correctly,” Miranda says, and Jack chuckles.
“Yeah, but that weird Scottish dude had that coming, you gotta admit,” she says, smiling slightly to herself. “Good you came by anyway. Actually wanted to talk to you.”
“You did?” Miranda asks. “You could’ve come by.”
“Came here first,” Jack says with a shrug. “Figured I’d get a little tipsy, make you less annoying.”
“I see,” Miranda replies dryly.
“Have a drink, I said,” Jack insists, clearing the bottle and glass out of her way and reaching over the bar, hanging upside down on the other side until she finds a glass. She sets it down on the bar once she’s back upright and fills it for Miranda, who hesitates before taking it. “C’mon, princess,” Jack insists, bioticially floating the glass up to Miranda’s face.
Miranda takes it, but doesn’t drink before asking, “What is it you wanted to talk about?”
“Drink.”
“Fine.” Miranda obeys and sets the glass down upside-down, but Jack ignores the message and flips it right back up to fill it again. “So?”
“So.” Jack refills her own glass and takes the next shot. “Went to Grissom with Shepard. Wanted to check out the place myself, you know, see if I recognized any Cerberus. Didn’t see anything. Met the chick in charge. She says she rooted out those guys who infiltrated ages ago, personally. Pretty cool. We talked for a while.” Jack slumps down in her seat, rubbing a hand over her face. “She said — well, I told her where I came from. Don’t know why. She just...I don’t know. I could tell, you know? How much she cared about the kids. She saw how I cared about David, she said. Said that...that if I wanted to get looked at, you know, check me over properly, I could come back. If I wanted.”
“...do you want to?” Miranda asks gently.
“I...I dunno. She said a lot of stuff. Like that they needed more experienced biotic instructors, since a lot of ‘em are military and with all the Collector shit lately, they’re getting taken outta reserves.” Jack rolls the glass around in her hands. “Dunno if she was serious. Like...me, a teacher? Or...whatever, drill sergeant?”
Miranda takes a moment to consider how to respond to that. Her immediate instinct is that it’s an insane idea, but...the way she treated David, maybe it’s not. Maybe something like that would give Jack the focus and restraint she’s needed all her life.
“Anyway.” Jack says before Miranda can come up with the words. “Made me think. Been thinking, all the time I’ve been in here.” She sets the glass down and refills it. “I wanna...shit. I think I wanna live.”
“...that’s not what I expected,” Miranda admits.
“After I spat in your face about my whole fucked up implant situation? Yeah, you wouldn't, right? Shit, I didn’t.” Jack knocks back her next shot. “But...for a long time I never really cared that much about living or dying. But now...if we survive the relay, you know. There’s kind of an offer waiting for me. A future. I know you’ve never been in prison, but that’s not something that’s been there since Purgatory. Since before that, to be honest.” She slumps forward, hand on her forehead. “And if I’m gonna live, I can’t go braindead. And I can’t...you know, do what I did before, and blow out my implants during the mission. You acted like you had a solution. Do you?”
Miranda freezes. “I…”
“Well?”
Miranda purses her lips, and takes her own shot, before answering. “I might,” she admits. “At least temporarily. I...I did save copies of your scans. I know you said—”
“I knew it,” Jack says with a chuckle. “I fuckin’ knew it. God, you’re predictable. I noticed when you tried to lock out the most sensitive files when I came aboard, you know, I’m not a dumbass.”
Miranda runs a hand through her hair. “I didn’t know you then.”
“You still don’t,” Jack says, smirking. “But anyway. I’m not mad about it. Well, not anymore. That’s why I hit the bar. So...you got a plan? Been working on it at all?”
“I...yes, I’ve got something. Something simple, something we can do on the ship,” Miranda admits. “It’d be a small incision into your skull. We’d adjust the VI that helps to control your implants, place limits on the amount of electricity that flows to your eezo nodules. You couldn’t strain yourself the way you did before — you could try, but it just won’t put out the power you’d need. That’ll prevent the acute warping effect.” She swallows. “But that won’t stop the long-term effects — we’d need an hours-long surgery to adjust and correct the errors in the rest of your implants to do that, as well as some recovery time to help heal the progressive damage they caused.”
Jack snickers. “You’re just saying that ‘cuz you wanna get inside me.”
Miranda stiffens. “Excuse me?”
“C’mon,” Jack goads, leaning forward on her stool, fixing Miranda’s eyes with a stare. “Just admit it. You wanna get your hands right up in my insides, pull them out all wet and sticky and warm.”
“I — I just want — “
“Too bad for you. I’m always on top.” Jack leans back again and cackles to herself, while Miranda’s cheeks burn.
“Do you have to be like this?” Miranda grunts. “I’m saying—”
“I’m screwing with you. You’re too boring to fuck a woman,” Jack sneers.
“I’ll have you know—”
“Don’t actually care. Anyway, first part sounds good. Seriously. Sometime when I’m not drunk, before we hit the relay — I can handle being a little underpowered if it means I get through that alive. After that...” She gives Miranda a lopsided smile. “We’ll see who gets inside who.” She stands up, cracking her back. “See you around, cheerleader. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.” She slaps Miranda’s back as she leaves the bar, sauntering away, swinging her hips, and Miranda finds herself staring at her as she goes.
Once the door closes behind Jack, Miranda turns back to the bar, and pours herself another drink. Maybe it’ll blank out the unwelcome images starting to worm their way into her head.
Jack comes up to the medbay while the Normandy’s docked with the Rayya, and Chakwas calls Miranda in once Jack’s settled onto the operating table. It’s quiet, simple work, setting up for Jack to be put under general anesthesia and triple-checking their scans, but Jack fidgets the whole way through. As Chakwas takes the mask and starts to put it on Jack, she holds up a hand and fixes her with a glare.
“You’re not gonna let her put, like, a mind-control chip in me, right?” she asks. Miranda feels a chill run down her spine, remembers a conversation almost two years past.
Chakwas laughs gently. “I don’t think we have those on board.”
“I’m going to do what I said I’d do,” Miranda says, crossing her arms and walking over to Jack’s side. “Nothing more.”
“God, Shepard really gets to everyone, doesn’t she?” Jack says with a laugh, laying her head back. “But seriously, don’t try anything.”
“It shouldn’t take too long,” Chakwas says. “We’ll have to test your biotics before you head back out into the field, but that’s all.”
“Hey, maybe with a limiter on, me and cheerleader here will be on even ground,” Jack says with a smirk, laying her head back on the table. “I’ll sell tickets.”
“Oh, get the mask over her face before she makes me groan to death,” Miranda sighs, putting a hand on her hip.
Jack barks out a laugh. “I’m the funniest bitch on this boat and you know it,” she goads, turning her head to flash her teeth at Miranda.
Miranda rolls her eyes. “You are not. It’s clearly Kasumi.”
“Oh, I am gonna get you for — for that one,” Jack says, her words slowing as Chakwas fits the mask over her face. “Gonna smear the walls with ya. You’ll…”
And she’s out. Thank God.
Time to get to work.
It’s all done in under an hour, the work as simple and clean as Miranda promised. She’s grateful for that, and for Chakwas’ easy manner and calm professionalism. There’s a comfort to be found in working alongside an Alliance medic, she thinks, no need to worry about jealous, self-interested saboteurs like Wilson, no need to account for the fact that Cerberus hires are near-universally unfit for traditional military service. The Illusive Man tapped every one of the most stable, likable people in the organization to become the crew of the Normandy; Miranda knows that, because she had to work with the rest for her entire career.
The anesthetic wears off slowly, and it takes some time for Jack to wake up. Miranda leaves her in Chakwas’ hands. The way they’ve been talking to each other lately has been unnerving, and she’s confident in her work.
She stops by the bar for a shot, first. Kasumi’s eyes laugh at her all the while.
It’s been over a week since Jack and Miranda exchanged a single word. Shepard’s been flying them across the galaxy, but each time there’s some reason they’re not on the same squad together, so Miranda can’t even see if her work’s caused Jack any problems. She could ask Shepard, she supposes, but that would...give it away. What, she’s not entirely certain, but something for sure.
She’s working up the courage to talk to Jack herself. It’s weird between them, of course it is. But Miranda should know the results of her work. She’s...getting around to it.
And then the Collectors hit the Normandy.
Their mission to the last colony hit is cancelled immediately, all remaining hands recalled aboard. Shepard makes the call. They’re going through the Omega-4 relay, to rescue their crew, to finish this mission, to make the last six months mean a damn thing.
So Miranda sits in her cabin, and waits. She stares out the window at the gradient of FTL travel, anxiety thrumming through her veins as she sits on the edge of her desk. She almost considers going to the lounge, taking a shot to steady her nerves, but she’s more professional than that.
And then Jack walks through her door.
She whips her head around at the sound, expecting Shepard, or just about anyone except Jack, standing there in her ratty old prison jumpsuit, sleeves hanging down at her waist, her black sports bra the only thing stopping her from being fully topless. Her tattoos draw Miranda’s eye, leading down her arms to the bottle she holds in her hand.
“Hey,” Jack says. Just like that.
“Is there something you need, Jack?” Miranda asks.
“Don’t pull that hoity-toity XO shit on me,” Jack sighs, stepping in and setting the bottle down next to Miranda, gesturing at it with her hands. “You’re just as worked-up as me. Can see it in your face.”
“...so why are you here?” Miranda asks, softening her tone. She can guess, but she doesn’t allow herself to think it.
“Wanted to thank you.” Jack snorts at Miranda’s skeptical expression. “Really, I mean it. Since you fucked around with my implants, it’s like...I feel better after a fight. I can’t do some of the crazy shit I used to, but I feel more like I’m in control, and...well, I never told anyone, but sometimes I needed to sleep for twelve hours after a mission. More than that.” Jack clears her throat. “You didn’t have to help me. So, thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Jack,” Miranda says, sliding off her desk. “I’d do the same for any member of the team.”
“Yeah?” Jack raises an eyebrow, a questioning quirk in her lips.
“Of course.” Miranda takes a step away from Jack, the look in those big brown eyes giving her a chill. “It’s an area of my expertise, and I’m more than suited enough to—”
“So nothing to do with me being a Cerberus experiment.”
“...I was glad to make some corrections,” Miranda admits. “What those butchers did to you…”
“Listen to that. She actually sounds like she means it,” Jack says, pointing her head to the ceiling. “Hey, EDI. Make sure you save that as a recording. Cheerleader admits Cerberus is a bunch of bastards, dot...whatever file extension you use.”
“I record almost all crew conversation,” EDI chimes in before Miranda can get a word in edgewise. “I have several zettabytes of storage.”
“Of course you do, you fucking creeper. Now stop watching this room.”
“Operative Lawson’s permission is required for that,” EDI says, and Jack looks back to Miranda and raises her eyebrows.
Miranda shivers. She knows, she knows what Jack’s plan is, and she shouldn’t, but her chest is tight and her blood is hot and…
She clears her throat. “I’m not worried about my safety, EDI. I’ll let you know if I need you again in the kitchen.”
“Very well, Operative Lawson. Ceasing all monitoring and transmitting to this room.” EDI plays a click sound over the speakers, more for their benefit than for her own, and Miranda’s left alone again, looking into Jack’s eyes.
“So you do think they’re a bunch of bastards, right?” Jack asks, turning from Miranda’s gaze to crack open the bottle.
“I…” Miranda sighs, slumping down into her couch, glancing out the window again. “This mission has been very...enlightening. We’ve run into every excess of Cerberus, not to mention the fact that we had to pull Shepard out of an exploding station in the first place because of one dumb, jealous employee.”
“Yeah, your guy sure knows how to pick ‘em, huh?” Jack says with a laugh, taking a pull of the bottle. “Mmm. I been saving this. Want some?”
“...just a bit.”
“Attagirl.” Jack walks over, bottle in hand, and flumps down beside Miranda on the couch, passing her the booze.
Miranda takes a short swig before handing it back. It is good. “Where did you get this?” she asks.
“Swiped it back when we went to Bekenstein. Right off one of Hock’s busboys when they were bringing ‘em into the party,” Jack says with a snigger as she sets the bottle on the floor.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I think that’s fancypants language for kickass.”
Miranda laughs, finding herself smiling. At Jack’s company, of all things.
“So, if you think Cerberus are a bunch of bastards now,” Jack begins, “You planning on leaving?”
“I’m not sure,” Miranda says quietly, looking down at her feet. “I suppose it depends on what’s asked of us beyond the relay. But Cerberus is the only home I’ve ever known.”
“Used to be mine, too,” Jack points out.
“You were constantly under attack by Cerberus. It’s not the same. They...lifted me up. They helped me feel like what happened to me was something I could claim for myself.” Miranda looks over at Jack thoughtfully. “I suppose you found that all on your own.”
“Had to,” Jack says with a shrug. “Eventually.”
“I still think...I think it was very brave of you to escape. To survive the way you have, all those years...you’re very strong, Jack.”
“I got along by killing and bombing and stealing,” Jack spits. “Nothing strong there. Just dumb angry bullshit.”
“But you’re here, now,” Miranda says softly, and against her better judgement, she reaches out and lays a hand over Jack’s wrist. “I’ve seen the side of you that wants to do good. You have the chance. You still want to go to Grissom, don’t you? After this is over?”
Jack nods, taking in a sharp breath. “Yeah,” she croaks, her voice strained.
“...maybe I could do something like that, too,” Miranda says quietly. “Find somewhere in the Alliance, or — just, anywhere, where I can use what’s been done to me in a way that I can feel good about. Not just for my ego, but...for the work itself to be worthwhile. I thought I had that in Cerberus, but we’ve seen too much out here for me to believe that anymore.”
Jack sniffs, wipes a quick hand across her nose. “That’s, um. Yeah. That’s a good idea, Miranda. It’s...good to hear.”
Miranda smiles softly at her. “I think that might be the first time you ever used my actual name.”
“Don’t get used to it, sweetness,” Jack warns, some of her old fire coming back into her voice.
“Sweetness?” Miranda repeats with a grin. “That’s not even an insult.”
“Doesn’t have to be.” Jack’s eyes sweep up and down Miranda’s body, but her mouth doesn’t curve up. Her lips are so plump and pretty. Is the lipstick tattooed on, too?
And then Miranda registers the tone in Jack’s voice, and shivers. Jack moves to pick up the bottle from the floor, leaving Miranda’s hand to fall down onto her thigh, instead. She strokes her hand up and down on Jack’s body, watches color come into her face. And something comes to mind, even as Jack takes a pull from the bottle, irresponsibly adding to her intoxication before doing the most dangerous thing any of them have ever done. It’s so true, Miranda has to tell her.
“You inspire me, Jack,” she says as Jack sets the bottle down. And Jack gives her a look, then, a look that makes the next urge Miranda has not seem like such a bad idea after all, and she shifts on the couch and brings an arm around Jack’s shoulders, pulling her in.
Jack’s shocked, at first. Her lips take a second to move. But when they start, they’re hungry, sucking at Miranda’s, letting her teeth out, and then her tongue. Jack breaks the kiss only to swing around and straddle Miranda on the sofa, then pins Miranda against the window with her mouth.
Miranda gasps as she pulls back, heart thudding in her chest as Jack’s hands start to wander down from her shoulders. “I’ve never…” she begins, and Jack pulls back with furrowed brows.
“You are not a virgin.”
“No, but — they were just, men. I was trying to...have a baby.”
“Oh, Christ, that’s so fucking depressing,” Jack groans. “They didn’t even show you a fucking good time?”
“That wasn’t the point.”
“Fucking waste of your bangin’ body,” Jack says, giving her a wicked grin. “Well, princess. It’s your lucky day.” And Jack thrusts forward again and bites Miranda’s neck, and Miranda knows that Jack is entirely correct.
Miranda is very lucky.
They’ve been quiet, for a minute. It’s hard to talk when both of you are panting your lungs out, lying spread-out across the bed. Miranda wants to bring her close and cuddle her, she does, but that last one seems to have stolen all the strength from her bones, and all she can do is lay here and stare at the ceiling and wait for feeling to come back into her legs.
Jack’s breathing slows beside her. Miranda manages to turn her head, seeing her gather herself together. Jack sits up, scratching at the new fuzz that’s growing in on top of her head.
“Well,” she murmurs. “I better...go.” She starts to turn away, but Miranda has enough strength now to grab her by the upper arm.
“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Miranda says, and Jack turns back to her. There’s water in those big, gorgeous eyes, and as Miranda manages to gently coax Jack to her side again, it spills out down her cheeks. Miranda brings Jack’s head to her chest, thumbing away the tear tracks, kissing the top of her head.
The right thing to say here is I love you. Miranda knows that. But this whole...dimension, this change in their relationship, is far too new. So Miranda doesn’t say anything, she just holds Jack, lets her get through the storm in her own head. Eventually, Jack’s tears dry up, and her shakes subside. Miranda pulls the covers over them with a tired flare of her biotics, and orders the lights off. They have a little time. She’s taking it. The both of them have never had enough time for themselves.
When the intercom announces they’re a half-hour from the relay, they separate and dress in silence. It’s not until Jack reaches the doorway, lingering there, that she speaks.
“You think we’ll make it?” Jack asks, running a hand over her scalp.
“I don’t know,” Miranda admits.
“Me neither. So let’s suit up, and kick some ass on the way out.”
And if anyone notices the two of them leaving Miranda’s room together, Miranda doesn’t give a damn. She might only have a half-hour to live. As Jack would say: Fuck it.
As soon as they clear the explosion of the Collector base, Jack slams Miranda against the wall of the elevator.
Everyone lived.
Miranda told her boss to go fuck himself.
Jack’s mouth tastes like victory.
Miranda and Jack aren’t the first ones off the ship, when Shepard starts the process of getting everyone off before some secret Alliance mission. Miranda says goodbye to a lot of people before she herself goes, though Kasumi just slips off before she can do that. She just had to annoy Miranda, one last time, by not allowing Miranda to thank her.
When the Normandy docks alongside Grissom and Miranda shows up at the airlock with her bags, Shepard gives her a confused look.
“What?” Miranda asks.
“You’re...going with Jack?” Shepard asks, and Miranda realises she never actually told Shepard her plans.
“I assumed that was obvious.” Miranda clears her throat. “Grissom Academy has the facilities we need to perform Jack’s surgery. To protect her from any further degeneration. I ought to be there to help, and it’s as good a place as any to look for a new career.”
“I guess I just thought you’d stay as my XO,” Shepard admits, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck. “I suppose I should’ve asked. Especially after Jack kept spending all her nights in your room.”
“Her bed is way comfier than mine,” Jack says as she thumps up the causeway towards them with a duffel slung over her shoulder, and Miranda stifles a giggle at the sight. Jack looks great. Sure, it’s just cargo pants, military boots and a tank top, but she works it, and she’s gorgeous, and she’s smirking, and…
“I didn’t realize how bad you had it, Miranda,” Shepard says with a laugh, punching Miranda in the arm. “Okay, you two. You be careful out there, all right?”
“I am the fucking picture of caution,” Jack says with a grin. “Those kids won’t know what hit ‘em.” She and Shepard exchange a tight, powerful hug. “You come back alive from whatever bullshit Hackett’s got you doin’, ‘kay?” Jack asks as they pull apart.
“Oh, definitely. I have to see how you guys end up getting along as girlfriends,” Shepard replies with a smirk. “Instead of the two mortal enemies I have to keep separated on my ship.”
Girlfriends. The word makes Miranda and Jack meet each others’ eyes in a panic. But Miranda nods, and Jack does too, and Miranda gives Shepard a smile.
“We’ll have a drink ready for you, Shepard,” she promises.
“I’m not your commander anymore. Call me Emily,” Shepard asks.
“No one’s ever doing that, Shepard,” Jack replies, coming up beside Miranda and giving her a kiss on the cheek. As the airlock opens for them, Miranda takes Jack’s hand, ready to walk into their future.
Miranda hates everything in the galaxy.
Things went so well. Jack lies unconscious in a hospital bed beside her, but she’ll wake up soon, and she’ll be safe. The operation, the modifications, all indications so far are good. Bandaged and bloody as Jack is, she’s going to be okay.
The problem is the news that’s come in since.
Miranda scrubs furiously at her omni-tool, closing down the haptic interface with a curse. She’s out of contacts. Nobody’s seen Oriana in a week. Nobody knows where Henry Lawson went. And Cerberus has gone dark. Even darker than it was. No news.
There’s a sick feeling in Miranda’s stomach. She doesn’t want to do this. She wants to have that drink with Shepard, and watch Jack grow into a teacher, and live with her in this wonderful, good place and make love to her new girlfriend and find some way to contribute to this world.
But she knows she has to, and that hurts all the more. There’s leads out there, but she can’t follow them aboard this station. She has to leave.
Jack stirs, and Miranda’s heart jumps. “Fuck me,” Jack says as her announcement to the world that she’s up, and Miranda squeezes her hand tight, a smirk on her lips despite herself.
“No doing that for six weeks,” Miranda says, and Jack groans so loud that Miranda has to laugh.
“How’d I let you talk me into this?” Jack bemoans, staring at the ceiling. “Six fucking weeks of no sex after we just got into it? Goddamn moron move.”
Miranda laughs guiltily. “Oh, I merely convinced you your life was worth living. My apologies.”
Jack looks down at her and smiles, tired though she looks. “Yeah. I mean, not all you, but yeah, you helped. A little.”
Miranda smiles and moves in, kissing her very lightly before she pulls back and her mood darkens again. “Jack, I...I have to go.”
“What?” Jack snaps. “Why in the name of fuck—”
“It’s my sister. She’s gone. I don’t know where.” Miranda stares down at their linked hands, and Jack’s relaxes.
“Oh,” Jack breathes. “Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s all right,” Miranda murmurs, rubbing her thumb over Jack’s hand. “But...you understand, don’t you?”
Jack nods, closing her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah. I know.” She gulps. “You’re, uh...you’re coming back, right? Once you find her?”
“I am,” Miranda says, gripping tightly on Jack’s hand. “I’ll bring her with me. She can meet you. I’m done letting her out of my sight.”
Jack laughs softly, though a tear escapes one eye. “Yeah. Guess that’s the closest I get to meeting the folks, huh?”
“I suppose so.” Miranda reaches up and wipes Jack’s tear away. “I love you, Jack. I promise I’ll find you again. No matter what happens.”
“You better,” Jack says, though her eyes are still closed, her face still tight. “Or you’re never getting that I love you too.”
“Deal,” Miranda says, even though she could point out that Jack already said it anyway. She stands to leave, pressing a kiss to Jack’s head on the way out. She lingers in the doorway, and looks back one more time at Jack, before she has to figure out her next move.
Jack meets her eyes, and in a small, pleading voice, asks, “Come back.”
And, more certain of this than she has been of anything in her life, Miranda answers.
“I will.”