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The High Cost of Perfection	By : Nicker Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 23057 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Mass Effect and the characters are owned by Bioware. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
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Miranda spent the next day mostly in bed. She changed her schedule around, until most of her day was free. She even worked out her excuse, although the way she arranged it, she knew nobody would notice. Except Shepard, but he was too mad at her to make anything out of it. Liara no doubt whipped up a good lie about how big of a bitch Miranda was to her when they talked, and played the understanding friend, not blaming anybody. It was scary how good Liara was at this game.
Miranda spent the time curled up in bed, staring into space, trying to push back long buried memories that were threatening to surface. The uncomfortable sensation from her lap slowly faded away but she felt as if it tore up the old wounds and left a nudging sensation that she could not get rid of. She showered at least four times since she made it back to the Normandy, but it didn’t help either.
By that time, everybody on board the ship knew that things went sour between the commander and the XO. The crew was barely aware of the fact that they were an item. They didn’t exactly keep it a secret, they were just discreet about it. Miranda loved those moments. Not sneaking about, like teenagers, but keeping it professional and then stealing moments of intimacy here and there. The gossip barely got time to become a fact before the news started to spread that Shepard was in a foul mood and not consulting with Lawson as much as they used to.
As for Miranda, she always kept to herself, so not much has changed for the crew to notice. Kelly noticed it, though, bless her heart, and she was adamant enough that Miranda promised to have a talk with her after her “day-off”.
Ever since the Collector Base, Miranda’s world was shifting and crumbling and twisting. She was quite ready to die on the mission. Everybody kind of made peace with it being a one-way trip. But their world didn’t end, so now they had to adjust to the future. Breaking their ties with Cerberus also shook Miranda up. She gave almost eighteen years of her life to the organization, and it turned out to be more corrupt than she thought. It was a strange feeling, drifting in space in more than one way. They only sure thing that she could hold on to was Shepard. And it hurt her much more than she cared to admit, to lose that connection. The way she lost that connection. Now she started to feel more and more like she never had a chance.
So she returned to planning in her head, figuring out how to go about living once she was off the ship, how to lay low and hope Liara forgets about her after a while. Miranda didn’t know how she would be able to let Shepard go, but she knew she had to deal with it if she wanted Oriana to be safe. It was a choice she didn’t want to make.
The communicator beeped again, making Miranda shudder in the bed. She was starting to dread that sound. It always brought bad news. She activated it with a voice command.

“Miss Lawson, the commander would like to speak to you in his quarters.” EDI said through the speakers.

“Did he say why?”

“No. He only said that he knew you weren’t scheduled to meet, but this is official matter.”

“Thank you, EDI. Tell him I will be there in five minutes.”
For one more minute, though, she did not move. She still felt mentally exhausted and physically weak, but mostly she just didn’t want to get out of bed.

Eventually though, she had to, and staring down her image in the mirror, she pulled herself together. After all, she was Miranda Lawson. She was perfect. She was strong enough to handle this.
That confidence didn’t last too long as she walked out of her office and dropped by the mess hall to pick up a bottle of water. There was a low murmur amongst the people around the tables and quite a few glances in her direction. Miranda frowned. This was unusual, even with the breakup in the air. She never gave signs of her emotional turmoil. As she walked out and decided to take the stairs, she could still feel their gaze and noticed their nervous shuffle from the corner of her eyes. Maybe Shepard flipped out and made a scene and they all blamed her. She scoffed as she reached the captain’s quarters. That could be possible.
She sipped her water as she waited for the door to open and strolled in, a bit wary, but still confident enough. Shepard was not alone, though. Garrus was standing next to him, as solemn for a turian as Miranda could guess. Alarms started ringing in her head. Something terrible was about to happen and yet again, she didn’t know what.
Shepard was sitting at his desk, Garrus leaning against it next to him. Shepard looked up at her from a datapad he was holding. Miranda looked back, trying to keep it cool, trying to get any idea about the danger she was in. She nodded to them in greeting.
“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Miranda,” Shepard said in a controlled voice. He reached out his hand with the datapad in it. “Care to explain this?”

Miranda looked at them curiously, with a questioning gaze. She took the datapad. She turned it towards her and took a look at the screen. Her heart sank.
She just stood there, mortified and stared at the screen in disbelief. It was a slideshow of a few pictures, featuring her. Naked. Under the shower.

“I haven’t– I don’t under–” she mumbled, trying to form a coherent sentence, while her heart was beating rapidly and she felt herself blush, her ears burning and the pressure building in her chest. She lifted a hand reflexively to touch her collarbone.
And then she understood. She recognised the pictures. They were taken in Liara’s shower right after she violated her. It was hard to tell, because of the low light and the lack of details, but it was definitely her. It could easily be mistaken with the Normandy’s shower, even the one in Shepard’s cabin if somebody was familiar with it.
“Garrus found it on a table in the mess hall,” Shepard continued the explanation, while Miranda stared incredulously at the changing pictures. There were three or four, low quality shots, one of them giving a full frontal view of her with head bowed, water sprinkling on her and trickling down in rivulets over the curves of her breast, the water and the shadow making them prominent, just as it hid nothing of her pubic area.
Miranda barely heard what Shepard was saying. Everybody saw it… in the mess hall… blood was pounding in her ears. Shepard rambled on about how Garrus, trying to save her dignity, snatched it from their midst and brought it straight to him.

“Why him?” Miranda asked, looking up, still trying to comprehend what just happened. “Why not me?”

“I thought it would be best for Shepard to handle it if it gets messy,” the turian shrugged. It made sense, sort of, to protect the captain’s integrity.
Miranda nodded with a bitter frown. Of course. She was compromised, the crew would not listen to her in this case. And since she had an affair with the captain, it was his reputation on the line, too. In other words, they did not trust her any more.

“What were you thinking, Miranda?” Shepard asked with honest despair in his voice. She saw that he was fuming and mad, but that damn empathic side of him was worried about her.
And since this was planted there, and made it look like self-portraits, if she would blame somebody else, it would raise a lot of questions. She would look weak anyway, trying to get out of a tight spot with a crazy conspiracy theory. And if Liara gets wind of it, she would take it as a sign that Miranda tried to trick her way out of the situation. She obviously had a mole on the ship who put the datapad there... No, she could not risk that. She had to stick to the plan and try to get out of Liara’s way. For now, at least, and wait until the storm blows over.
“I—I am sorry, Shepard. I didn’t mean to—” this was hopeless. She took a big breath. “I was distracted. I forgot about the datapad and… and left it there by mistake.”
Shepard let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head. It pained Miranda to see him like this. They both thought their relationship would help them save each other from falling apart, especially after the Collector Base. Before, they could have written it off as a spur of the moment thing, but in the following months, it became something else. Something she had to destroy, over and over again, while looking into his eyes.
It was obvious this hurt Shepard more than he let on, and she had to let it happen. He looked up at Garrus and thanked him for his intervention. The turian nodded and catching Shepard’s gaze, he politely left.
“Miranda, what is happening here?” Shepard sighed. “Why are you doing this?”

Oh, if at least he would try to blame it on her, and give her a rant about how this made him look bad. Then she could fight back and argue with him, and it would make it so much easier for her to hate him, and vice versa. But no. He understood how bad this was for Miranda.

She frowned, holding back tears.

“I made a mistake, John. I was careless. It won’t happen again.” At least she hoped Liara had nothing else up her sleeve and this was her parting gift.
Shepard rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Do you need me to relieve you of duty?”

Miranda felt herself blush again, her knees trembling. Dark blots were swimming at the edge of her vision from the contained stress.
“No. It is not necessary,” she managed to say with a trembling voice. She frowned again, blinking away the fog from her eyes and stared straight at him. “I can do my job.”

Shepard nodded.

“So far you did a good job as an XO. But if you don’t want to do it any more…” he left the sentence open.
Miranda shook her head silently, pressing her lips thin. She didn’t dare to speak. She was clutching the bottle of water and the datapad with hands trembling.

“Very well. It’s less than two weeks until we reach Illium and let everyone go. Can you manage until then?”

She flashed her eyes at him. She almost retorted something, but she didn’t have the strength to get into an argument.

“You know I can,” she said finally.
They stood and stared at each other for a few more seconds. Miranda tried to read him, look for signs that he still cared for her, or if not, how much she managed to push him away. He was almost unreadable now. It only took a week of Liara’s little game to throw both of them off. No doubt, he was searching for the same signs in her, and since he had no idea, he could interpret Miranda’s turmoil in a number of ways.
“All right,” he nodded finally. “We will hold a briefing in two hours and lay down the plan for the trip back to Earth. Pull yourself together until then, and let’s try to forget about this,” he nodded towards the datapad.

“Yes, Shepard,” Miranda said a little more calm now.

“I’ll go talk to Garrus. You can take a few minutes if you want to—”

“I will be fine, John,” she snapped. She didn’t want to break down in his room either. She just needed to keep it together until she makes it back to her quarters. She could do it.
Shepard nodded.

“Good. That will be all.”

They left together, but Miranda pulled herself straight, looked straight ahead and quickened her steps to arrive on the crew deck well ahead of him. She slowed down just enough so her walk didn’t look upset or embarrassed, and she tried to remain measured while she made it to her door. She could still feel and hear as they whispered behind her after she passed.
She made it inside without breaking the facade, leaning her back against the closed door. She closed her eyes and exhaled loudly, realizing she held her breath back until now. She just stood there for a little while, pressing the back of her head against the metal, eyes closed.
She waited for the sobs and tears to come, rip out of her finally, or at least a frustrated scream, something, anything to relieve the tension. Nothing happened. She mastered self-control so well, that even when she needed to, she was unable to vent out her anguish.
Eventually she made her way to her desk and collapsed into her chair, slamming the datapad and the bottle down. She didn’t know how much time passed as she stared ahead with an empty gaze, but her terminal chimed again. She reluctantly turned her eye towards the screen and tapped the button.
It was a message from an unknown sender. Miranda sighed resigned as she hit the read button. A picture popped up of her, naked. Another image swam in from the side, a cutout of Jack. The primitive and lewd animation continued until it looked like Jack and Miranda were naked and making out.
Miranda didn’t want to believe her eyes. What was this childish message going to accomplish? Mocking her? What did Jack had to do with it? She stared at the disturbing image, trying to figure out its meaning. There must be something to it, if Liara bothered to send it–or have her mole send it to her.
It was no secret that there was no love lost between Jack and Miranda, their argument was already legendary among the crew and the tension between them never really went resolved. Miranda doubted that Liara wanted her to go to Jack and be friends with—
Staring at her screen, watching the animation repeating in an endless loop, Miranda Lawson felt something go numb in her chest. Frozen in place, she was unable to stop it from spreading to her fingertips, her eyelids, her toes, to the top of her skull.
It was the next game Liara came up with for her. Miranda stared at the image of the always half-naked, young biotic slide next to her showering form on her screen and she felt sick. Of course, Liara would make her do something with Jack.
This was happening. This childish, pointless bullying that served no other purpose than humiliating an already defeated opponent, was happening and Miranda could only hope that it would end once she leaves the Normandy. But until then, apparently, her life will be made even more miserable.
Miranda, not for the first time, considered ending it all. The curse of being smart was that she could play out many different scenarios in her mind in very little time, over and over again. So far, she could not see a way out of this. She even contemplated suicide, which scenario entered her mind more frequently since her visit to Liara. It wasn’t depression, she thought, just pure rational thinking: one way to get out of the picture. Being dead, however, didn’t help to keep Oriana safe from Henry. Telling Shepard everything would risk too much, even if Liara was only bluffing with her threats. Confronting Liara would only bring her more of the same misery she was in now. It was not productive, either.
She wanted to feel rage. A few tears would have helped, a few screams or sobs to let the dams break in her mind, but it was just that dark numbness nagging at her from the inside.
She willed herself to take a few breaths and consider the situation. Liara had a mole on the ship. Miranda could get hold of the security footage to find them. She suspected that even with the vast knowledge of the Shadow Broker, it was improbable that Liara knew everything about the ship and the Illusive Man’s most secret operations. Even with the mole, Miranda could keep most of her privacy. She could rely on EDI, for starters. It would be hard to find other allies on the Normandy. Nevertheless, she needed to review her plans and put things in motion while she could.
Miranda let out a frustrated growl and deleted the message. What was Liara trying to do? How would she know about it? Why wasn’t this enough already? She could swoop in and pick up the pieces, get Shepard. Although Miranda might not have learned to respect Liara, after raping her, Miranda was certainly wary. And every time she remembered it, she shrank a little bit and felt that pang of fear inside her. No. She did not want to confront Liara, not now, when she worn her down. She just didn’t have the strength.
The numbness started to return. As soon as her thoughts drifted and her mind became idle, the painful things started to emerge. That actually made her eyes water and she had to blink a few times to clear her vision. It would only get worse, she knew, if she didn’t occupy her mind with something. How long until she loses it?
So. Jack. It was already making Miranda’s head spin, trying to stay rational and solve her problem, and that problem being Jack constantly reminding her that she was blackmailed into doing… something with the only person on board with whom there was no chance of staying civilized. She needed to sort this out, but the problem itself started to drag her into despair when she needed to stay calm and focused. She stood up from her chair anxiously, looking around, deciding to do a little workout. Then she stopped, realizing that it would mean leaving her quarters and crossing the mess hall again with all those people out there, staring.
She snarled, clenching her fist in frustration, then grabbed the datapad and threw it against the wall. Finally! She broke something!
* * *
Miranda felt only slightly better by the time she had to attend the briefing. Garrus and Joker were there with EDI chiming in through the comm. It was tense, a lot of averted gazes and restrained gestures, short and to-the-point discussion. Joker didn’t know if he should grin and grab a bowl of popcorn or freak out like a kid whose parents were getting a divorce.
They were two days away from a rendez-vous with a quarian ship that would take Tali back to the Migrant Fleet. Then they were going to Elysium to drop Jack off at the Grissom Academy, where Shepard managed to get a teaching job for her. Normally this would have triggered snarky comments from Miranda and Joker, but the pilot fell flat with any attempt at humour, so he gave that up. One day shore-leave at Elysium would give them enough time to refuel and resupply, and then they would head to Illium where most of the crew, including Thane, Kasumi and Miranda would get off, before the Normandy returned to Earth. Jacob, the ever sentimental, wanted to go to the Mediterranean.
Four days to Grissom, one day off, then five more to Illium. Miranda had to survive this long, and she had three days to figure out what to do about Jack.
Miranda contributed her part to the discussion, making suggestions on the course and supplies, even giving tips about some Cerberus safehouses and dead drop locations they could raid.
It was a productive briefing, ones they used to have when they were chasing the Collectors. It used to make them enthusiastic. Miranda, for one, enjoyed them tremendously, solving problems, brainstorming, seeing how Shepard worked, how good he was as a tactician, too. She probably fell in love with his intellect during these sessions. And now it was all bitter and awkward, all the magic gone from these special moments.
Miranda was looking forward to visiting Elysium before, to see the landmarks of the Skyllian Blitz and hear the story from Shepard himself, talking her through how he defended the colonists from the pirates. That was gone, too, ripped away from them. She would probably stay in her quarters. Maybe just stay on Grissom, taking a tour of the biotic school.
As the briefing wound down, her mood got darker, her thoughts straying again to dangerous territories. She had to grip the back of the seat she was standing behind and she could feel the first signs of panic descending on her. She just couldn’t bear the glares Shepard gave her, the way Garrus tilted his head when she came up with a suggestion, the weird glances from Joker, EDI’s eerie, modulated voice. It was so ridiculous, she almost laughed out loud.
Thankfully the briefing was over soon and she could escape before somebody tried to stop her. Back in her room she made it to her desk before sliding down to the floor, resting her forehead on her knees until she could breathe regularly again. After a few minutes she felt strong enough to sit up and do some work she was supposed to do as an XO. It distracted her enough to stay calm and make some notes while working out fuel consumption, supplies and flight plans.
She even squeezed in Kelly’s visit, just to get her off her back. She told her all the things expected from her about letting Shepard go, not holding him back, trying not even to hint at anything that would raise suspicion. Kelly smiled and nodded, letting out a soft sigh as she stood up.

“I know it is not easy, Miss Lawson. I also know most of what you said isn’t true. It could be, but it’s not.” Kelly kept smiling, touching Miranda’s hand over the desk. “I’m trained at this. I can see the signs of trauma on people, you know. Whatever your trouble is, you need someone to talk to. Just find someone.” She patted Miranda’s hand, who nodded at her solemnly, but with a straight face, and watched her go.
Miranda stared at the closed door for a long while. She have been delaying things until now, hoping it won’t get worse, that there is still hope to fix things. She lost precious time, based on foolish, irrational emotions like hope and love. It was time to lock away those feelings, throw them into the abyss that she felt growing in her chest and get to work.
* * *
For the next few days, Miranda settled into a routine of unpredictability. She did her job as an XO, but not in the normal schedule, taking a break at seemingly random times to go work out, check inventory, the cargo bay or engineering. If Liara’s mole was keeping tabs on her, she wanted to look nervous, awkwardly stalking Jack, trying to find a way to approach her.
Scattering her break periods meant that she could only rest and sleep in small doses, faking free time while working on something else. It was exhausting, but it also meant, that it was harder for someone to track her. She snuck out datapads from the inventory and made plans while working out, before showers, making sure nobody was watching her. She made very cautious contact with EDI, determining that most probably she could not be corrupted and the Shadow Broker had no way of knowing about her full capabilities, especially since Joker unshackled her.
She broke pattern just enough to remain inconspicuous. Still, during one of her late night workout sessions, she almost jumped when she heard Kasumi’s voice coming from one of the crates she was sitting on top of, cloaked.
“So she breaks up with him for no reason,” Kasumi mused, like she was continuing an interrupted conversation, “Then she comes back walking strange, then pictures suddenly appear. Hmmm.”
Miranda glanced at the shimmer where Kasumi lurked, acknowledging her presence, but continued with the exercise. Kasumi took the hint and continued.

“And she of all people, who does her job like clockwork, suddenly makes no sense. Now I ask: This is not professional. Is this just heartbreak? Or something else?”

“What took you so long?”

There was a chuckle. “Had to get my facts straight. I can tell if someone is hiding. Hunted. But on a ship? Now that’s just stupid.”
Miranda was panting harder now, sweat leaving dark spots on her shirt. She slowly stopped, picking up a towel and rubbing her face and neck dry, doing some stretching to cool down.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

There was another shimmer, possibly a shrug.

“I found a datapad.” A pause. “I might just read it and see what it is all about.”

Miranda rubbed her neck with the towel and shot a glance at the top of the crate, letting the facade break and look solemnly at Kasumi, giving her a curt nod, the only way she dared to show her gratitude.
There was nobody there any more and Miranda actually wondered for a few seconds if she only imagined it. She felt like she was losing her mind, so once again her rational brain examined the possibility if this was all just a projection of her subconscious. She noticed she was getting more and more philosophical these days.
* * *
If a bottle of first class Serrice Ice Brandy could stand defiantly, the one on Miranda’s desk certainly did it perfectly. Its rich, dark colour suggested a thick texture, almost like syrup, and held the promise of sweet and burning taste down one’s throat. Miranda glared at it sulkingly, arms folded across her chest, leaning back in her chair to be as far away from it as possible. Although it didn’t help that she had a glass in her hand with more than a generous dose of the same brandy, licking lazily at ice cubes as she absent-mindedly sloshed it around. The bottle’s twin was standing next to Miranda on a smaller desk. It was half empty.
Miranda sipped her drink, but kept her gaze on the bottle even over the rim of the glass. There were dark circles showing faintly around her eyes from the irregular sleeping and lack of eating properly. She had trouble getting out of her quarters in the last days, almost unable to bear the thought of crewmembers staring at her and imagining her naked just like they saw it on the datapad.
She had no idea who saw the pictures at all, and absolutely no clue about what they thought, but she had a vivid imagination. And it certainly felt like she was naked, especially since she was the only one who knew how those pictures were made. To her, it felt like everybody knew. EDI was sending her status reports on the crew, which she didn’t dare to open and Kelly filed her weekly psych notes that went to the same folder as EDI’s.
She checked the clock on her terminal and confirmed that indeed, more time has passed, five minutes of them, which made it about twenty minutes since she sat down to take a little liquid courage before she sprung into action.
It was her last chance, too, since they were one night cycle away from Elysium and the Grissom Academy. If she doesn’t do it now, it will be too late. Miranda had no idea what Liara would do if she didn’t at least try, but she was in no mood and certainly no shape to suffer another “lesson in respect” from the crazy asari.
“Fuck this,” she muttered to herself, downing the drink in one gulp, shuddering with a grimace and picked up the bottle on her way out. She was dressed to the occasion, as much as body-hugging outfits allowed, definitely rakish, her hair tussled just the right amount. She sneaked down to engineering, timing her arrival when nobody was around.
She took another deep breath for courage and descended the stairs, her shoes knocking as loudly as possible, signaling her arrival.
Jack was lying on her cot in a tiny tank top and a small patch of a panties, reading a datapad with a very solemn face. She looked up at the arriving woman with a mixture of annoyance and curiousity.
Before she could unleash, however, Miranda lifted a hand to silence her.
“I come in peace. Here is my offering.” She lifted the bottle casually, waving it at Jack.

The biotic raised her eyebrows and scoffed, putting the datapad down and sitting up.

“Damn, you must be fucked up pretty bad, if you come to me for company.”

Miranda grimaced. Here it comes, she thought. Liara’s plan for another round of humiliation. Starting with Jack making comments of her love life. Since there were no set rules, there was no reason Miranda could not get ahead if it.
“Save it, convict,” she sneered, strolling closer, looking at Jack with half-closed eyes. “I am fully aware of the irony that a bloody criminal and borderline psychopath gets to teach specially talented children in a prestigious Alliance academy, whilst I, a perfectly well-adjusted, genetically perfect and may I say, filthy rich and influential… at least in theory… person has to go into hiding like a wanted criminal and traitor, after sacrificing two years of my life to do the bloody impossible and resurrect the greatest hero of the bloody galaxy.” She put the bottle of Serrice Ice Brandy down on Jack’s table like an exquisite piece of art. “There.”
Jack glared at her with an incredulous grin on her face. Normally she would have exploded by now and tried to slam Miranda into the bulkhead, but she found her rant endlessly amusing.
“Are you drunk, cheerleader?” She said as she stood up, eyes darting back and forth between the brandy and Miranda.
“Maybe,” Miranda shrugged, blinking sleepily. “And funny you should say that because technically I am no longer a Cerberus cheerleader on account of handing in my resignation verbally to the head of the organization in the most important moment of everybody’s life.” She looked around with a wistful sigh. “Yeah.”
Jack chuckled, picking up the bottle and checking it out.

“You are not shitting me,” she exclaimed cheerfully, realizing the quality of the alcohol. She opened the bottle, smelled the fumes and took a gulp of the strong liquid, letting out a loud sigh at the aftertaste.
Miranda glared at her disdainfully.

“Believe it or not, despite you being possibly the most unbearable personality humanity has to offer, and that’s saying a lot with Joker on board, and being a very good biotic myself, I admire your—” she blinked a few times, finding it hard to make a compliment, “skills and talents.”
That made Jack laugh.

“I’ll drink to that.” She swung the bottle and passed it to Miranda who took it reluctantly, looking around.

“You don’t happen to have any glasses around, do you.”

“Nope.”

Miranda scowled, wiped the mouth of the bottle and took a gulp as dignified as she could manage. Avoiding Jack’s gaze, she looked around, but nothing gave her any idea to talk about, unless she wanted to insult the biotic. Which she dearly wanted to, but had to control herself.
The awkward silence stretched on for a few more seconds, Jack cradling the bottle. She seemingly enjoyed the quality booze and found Miranda’s embarrassment entertaining.

“Boy, it took you a lot of effort to come down here, didn’t it?”

“Perhaps. A glass of brandy, I suppose. Or two.”

“Well,” Jack lifted the bottle in greetings, offering it to Miranda, “In exchange, I can say that I think you are a snotty, uptight bitch I would love to choke, but I appreciate the gesture.”
“Let’s drink to that,” Miranda nodded, relieved that the biotic was not mocking her in excess. She drank from the bottle, grimacing at the uncivilised way of doing it, a drop of the precious alcohol escaping the corner of her lips. She hurried to stop it before it dripped, catching it with her fingers, but almost dropped the bottle.
Miranda could feel the pity in Jack’s glance as she followed her clumsy performance. She put the bottle down and glared at Jack. She did not need her pity. Then she remembered why she was here, and how that pity might exactly be what she needed. She almost cringed at the thought. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“So.” Jack said, breaking the silence again. “What will you do after this?”
Miranda shrugged again, then grimacing at the gesture. It was the third time in as many minutes, making her look like a sulky teenager. She also felt a bit dizzy as the brandy started kicking in. She needed more.
“I’ll figure something out.” She took the bottle for another sip. “Can’t go back to Earth yet. Have to avoid Cerberus. I have a sister, you know. I have to look out for her, too.” She looked into Jack’s eyes for the first time, just to gauge her progress, absently brushing her hair behind her ear.
“Yes, I heard. And I can fully see the irony now.”

“Screw you,” Miranda waved, sitting down on the table. Their gaze met and Miranda tried to figure out what was Jack’s attitude towards her. She didn’t want to overplay her hand. “In any case, you were part of this crew and I was the XO, so I thought it would be proper to at least share a goodbye drink. Chances are, we will never see each other again.” At least she hoped so, after what was about to happen.
Jack shook her head, sitting down on the other end of the table, the bottle passing back and forth between them.

“Noted.” She paused and took another look at Miranda. She started to feel that Jack was still suspicious, the way her gaze searched her. She should be, Miranda thought, and I am the last person that could convince her, that I have no agenda. “You don’t have to stay, though.”
“What? No more snarky remarks? I prepared with a lot of retorts in all subjects ranging from cheerleading to genetical engineering. I even have a comeback for a petri dish joke.” She was blabbering, and getting positively drunk. She took a careful sip from the brandy.
“I’m fresh out of those at the moment,” Jack shrugged, pretty uncharacteristically. Miranda shot a glance at her as she drank from the bottle.
“Oh, my God, you’re scared!” Miranda blurted out. “That’s why you’re serious!”

“Shut the fuck up, cheerleader! This is what I get from you for being civilised?”

“You are too kind, Jack.”

“Yeah, well, and you look like shit. Sorry for taking a pity on you because you broke up with your boyfriend.”
Miranda couldn’t stop herself from cringing. She clenched her fist, but even then she didn’t feel the rage she should have. It was all too messed up and she had more than a week to contemplate on her fate. Not to mention Liara’s painful reminder, which drained her energy significantly.
“Whatever. My ex boyfriend got you the gig and I get to lay low in sleazy motels for the foreseeable future, which are hardly better than this…” she waved her hand around. She suddenly dropped out of character and looked into Jack’s eyes. “He believes in you. Earn it.”
And with that, she stood up. She was ready to give up and just walk out of there. She didn’t care what Liara would say if she ever finds out. In the end, Miranda barely saw the difference between getting violated this way or that way. “I’ve had enough of all the crap,” she mumbled to herself as she tried to navigate around the table.
“Whoa, how did this got from ‘godspeed’ to patronizing the psycho?” Jack snapped back, half-heartedly, which was not what Miranda expected. It was just half of the ‘fuck off’ she was hoping. For once, she wanted to fail at a task.
Miranda sighed, rubbing her forehead, leaning on the bulkhead with the other to stop herself from wobbling.

“Look,” Miranda sighed, “I meant it. Congratulations.” She looked back at Jack over her shoulder. “I noticed you were nervous. You think you will be babysitting spoiled children and you are afraid you will fail as a teacher. But if Shepard thinks you’re good enough, then believe it. You will be fine.”
Jack slipped off the table and stopped right next to Miranda, tilting her head to the side and searching her with narrowed eyes. She was definitely suspicious. Good. Miranda was looking forward to getting one last rubbing and then leave. Maybe Liara was going for that effect, to get refused even by a crazy bitch like Jack.
“What about you… Lawson?”

“I will be fine, too, thank you.”

Jack reached out and gently pulled the bottle of brandy from her hands, putting it down on the table. It was an unmistakable gesture saying ‘you are too drunk’. The tattooed biotic sighed, rolling her eyes, like somebody was forcing her to say something nice.

“Look. For what it’s worth—”
Miranda noticed the moment of weakness, and in an instant, she decided to act upon it. It was only a half-conscious decision. Her brain calculated all the variables and decided this was the optimal chance to accomplish the task set before her, but it also prevented Jack from getting too sentimental by finishing the sentence. And anyway, Miranda knew what she was going to say and she was fine with it. Part of her action was meant to save Jack from having to say it out loud.
She kissed her full on the lip, hands crawling to embrace her. She was eager to get lost in the sensation, just to get a little pleasure from this exercise in humiliation and to feel the touch of somebody after all these days of loneliness.
Jack pulled away instantly, at least she tried. She bumped into the table, but managed to push Miranda away with her hands.

“What the hell?!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Miranda sighed. “Just take it… as a parting gift.” And she was leaning forward to continue the kiss. Jack was still reluctant.

“You are drunk.”

“I have exceptional metabolism. I’m never drunk enough for long enough. I suggest you take full advantage.”
Miranda was still holding her in an embrace, which wouldn’t have been an issue for Jack if she wanted to get out of it, even with the table behind her. Miranda Lawson managed to confuse Jack.
“Since when are you interested in girls anyway?”

“What can I say. I like to keep my options open.” Miranda purred, leaning in to plant kisses on the naked skin of her shoulder and neck.

“What if I don’t?”

Miranda chuckled.

“With your colourful history, I doubt you haven’t tried it once or twice.”
“Fuck y—” Jack hissed, trying to push her away again, but Miranda didn’t let her this time. She was physically stronger and more confident. She kissed Jack hard, biting down on her lower lip, panting loud, fueled by brandy and the heat rising in her loins.
They had to stop eventually to come up for air, gasping and panting, Jack grabbing into Miranda’s hair to yank her head back. Miranda let out an eager whimper. She knew this kind of roughness, and when done right, she liked it. She had a feeling that Jack was pretty good at it.
She let Jack expose her throat, offering herself to the younger woman, pushing her chest out.

“You’re fucking crazy, cheerleader,” Jack snarled, but she was laughing, her red lips pressing against Miranda’s neck triggering a hungry moan. Miranda threw her head back, enjoying the spinning sensation, alcohol and pleasure mixing together, lighting her nerve endings on fire.
“Shut the fuck up,” Miranda moaned, pressing Jack’s bald head down against her chest, feeling the hungry, wet nibbles on her skin.
Miranda clawed off Jack’s small top and Jack spun them around, sitting Miranda on the table and helped her peel of the tight jacket, revealing a delicate, lacy bra. Jack took a second to admire her heaving breast and they were at it again, groping and wrestling with each other for dominance.
It was quick and dirty, yanking Miranda’s pants off, Jack slipping out of her panties, and they were back on the table, Jack climbing on top, straddling Miranda and attacking her breasts, making Miranda’s whole body snaking as she moaned loudly, stroking Jack’s bald head with one hand, reaching for Jack’s ass with the other.
Jack worked herself up faster, fighting Miranda who was just giving in to her. She pulled up a knee between Jack’s legs so Jack could grind her smooth, damp sex off on her firm thigh. Jack was lean, a firm knot of tight muscles and a hard, squeezing ass that Miranda tried to grip, and Jack in exchange squeezed her breast with one hand and bit down on her other nipple, sucking her round flesh into her mouth with a hungry moan.
Miranda stroked Jack’s bald nape in sync with the biotic’s grinding hip and kneading hand. She gasped when she felt Jack’s hand roughly squeezing itself between their thighs, and fingers forcing her folds apart to intrude between them. Jack was not gentle at all, but Miranda was already wet and she wanted it. She felt Jack’s strong thighs squeeze her leg, her pussy soaking Miranda’s skin as she rubbed herself off on her and Miranda loved it. She was almost encouraging Jack to be rough by giving firm squeezes to her ass and gasping out in surprised pleasure when Jack went down on one of her breasts and groped the other.
Miranda came first with a throaty moan, shuddering under Jack, two fingers barely inside her tunnel, gushing her juices and soaking their lap. Jack came shortly after, riding Miranda’s thigh roughly, needily, face buried into Miranda’s chest, riding out her orgasm and not letting Miranda relax after her release.
They chased each other onto the next peak and the short calm before it, barely catching their breaths and soon they were exhausted, sweating. Their laps were wet with their pleasure, their hands absently roaming each other soothingly. At one point they tipped over the bottle which fell to the floor, shattering and spilling it’s strong, precious content on the floor, the smell of liquor lingering in the air.
After a few minutes, Jack found the strength to push herself off of Miranda, their chests separating, cool air rushing in. Miranda was lying on her back, Jack on her hands and knees above her, flashing a wolfish grin. Miranda forced a smile on her face. She was satisfied, all right, and spent, but the bad feeling started to return. This was too pleasant and barely humiliating to be Liara’s big plan.
“Now,” Jack smirked, looking down at Miranda. “You have to tell me what hell this was all about.”

Miranda took a deep breath, about to say the lie she prepared, but it was not necessary. There was a noise from the staircase and Shepard’s voice before he even appeared around the corner. Jack turned her head towards the staircase, but Miranda just stared ahead at Jack and the ceiling.
“If you are fighting again, Miranda, I swear to—”

He stopped dead on the bottom of the stairs. Miranda didn’t even look, just blushed and tried very hard to hide her despair behind a straight face.

“Oh, hey, Shepard,” Jack said cheerfully, unabashed, nodding towards Miranda. “Kinda busy right now…”
Miranda wanted to sink into the floor. She felt this was coming, she was aware of the possibility from the start, but she still somehow hoped it won’t happen. But nothing would have prepared her for the feeling. She was lying naked under a nude Jack, sweaty and flushed, with the afterglow of sex surrounding them, and the smell of expensive brandy filling the air.
She could not imagine what went through Shepard’s mind, but he was left frozen, just standing there. Eventually, she had to look, after the silence grew, Jack looking at Shepard over her shoulder, unfazed.
Miranda slowly turned her head to the side, not trying to cover herself up, lying there defeated. The shock on Shepard’s face was indescribable. Miranda dumping him out of the blue without any reason, naked photos and now, the final stab to his ego, fucking with the one person with whom they hated each other the most. That the person in question was also a woman was not even important at this stage. It was all there on his face, in that frozen expression.
All Miranda could do was to return his gaze, take this pain as a punishment and only offer a pleading glance in return. Shepard’s shoulders sagged, he let out a sigh and turned away, retreating up the staircase.
Miranda knew they weren’t exactly quiet, and probably the breaking glass was also not a sign of peaceful discussion, but it was still more probable that someone was eavesdropping, than their voice carrying far enough for others on night cycle duty to hear. Miranda was careful. No. This was the mole, reporting to Shepard that they heard Miranda and Jack shouting and screaming from the engineering deck. Given their history, there seemed to be only one logical conclusion Shepard could have drawn from the report—
“Well, that was awkward,” Jack said cheerfully, looking down at Miranda with a glint in her eyes.

Miranda lifted a hand to rub her forehead.

“Yeah, predictable.”

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“You planned this?”

“Getting caught by Shepard? Yes, because I don’t have enough crap in my life.” She glared at Jack and then stared at the ceiling again. “No, I didn’t plan this,” she added softly, closing her eyes.
Jack slid off her, propping herself off on her elbow next to Miranda, running a hand absently from Miranda’s chest to her lap.

“How about… this?”

Miranda shook her head, keeping her eyes closed. She was feeling dizzy but it wasn’t the alcohol. “It was an option.”
Jack chuckled, sitting up swiftly, dangling her legs and looking for her clothes. “You know, normally I don’t have a problem with casual sex.” She stood up and finding her panties she bent over to pick it up. “But this was weird shit, you know? Fun, but strange.”
Miranda sighed and slowly sat up, carefully avoiding the shattered glass and started to dress quietly.

“You don’t really want to know.”
Jack pulled on her top and shot a curious glance at Miranda.

“Are you sure you want to stay on the ship after this? You could get off at Elysium.”

Miranda shook her head as she adjusted her bra and pulled on her jacket.

“My sister is on Illium. I have to make sure she is OK.”
Jack pursed her lips thoughtfully, nodding. “You still don’t make much sense, cheerleader, but it’s your life.”
“Maybe I will tell you about it someday.”

“You know where to find me.”

Miranda nodded, combing her hair back with her fingers. She avoided looking at Jack during the whole time, trying to hold on to the remnants of her dignity. When she was ready to leave, she looked back over her shoulder, straight into Jack’s eyes.

“I am going to take a shower. Sorry about the mess.”
Jack was leaning against the bulkhead and watched her the whole time with a searching gaze. She nodded in acknowledgement, folding her arms and watched Miranda go.
Jack wasn’t exactly suspicious, as far as Miranda could tell, but she definitely felt something was off. She wasn’t being smug either. The best Miranda could tell, Jack was amused and maybe even a little bit empathic. All in all, she probably felt pity for Miranda.

Great, Miranda thought. Now it’s in my head, too. I’m guilt-tripping myself.
* * *
It felt like she was in a dream. She found the bathrooms somehow and took a quick shower, then got back to her quarters. She felt strangely detached, finding it hard to focus. Time seemed to slow down and it felt like she was walking through thick air. Maybe it was the brandy, she couldn’t tell.
She sat on her bed, hugging her knees, staring into space. It actually felt better than it should have, the sex with Jack. Maybe because some things in their pasts were not that different.
And then cue Shepard and his expression. She probably destroyed any remaining respect he had for her, judging from that look. And she could not blame him.
They came off from destroying the Collector Base, riding the highs, getting rid of the Shadow Broker, and they had the whole galaxy at their feet. And then he went off and destroyed a mass relay and half of the batarian civilization. Technically a genocide. And then Miranda tramples all over his ego at a moment of self-doubt and hard decisions.
She let out a soft moan, resting her head on her knees. He will probably hate her. And the only way to survive, Miranda surmised, was to bundle up all her emotions and drag them to the back of her mind and lock them away with the rest, behind that wall that refused to break and give her the relief of it pouring out of her. They were sturdy walls, built for half of her life, to keep herself sane.
After a while, hours, maybe, she could feel an eerie calm descending on her. Her breathing became slow and steady, and her limbs felt light despite sitting there motionless for a long while. No cramps, no headache. She felt peaceful. She had nothing left and only one thing to live for. It became simple. She could see the whole picture now, the patterns and the paths to choose from. Now she could move on.
* * *
Shepard came to visit her the next day, after they dropped off Jack. Miranda remained in her quarters the whole time, deciding not to stir anything up by being in sight. She sat at her desk, neatly arranged, terminal, datapad, a bottle of water at hand, waiting, a peaceful expression on her face, hands resting in her lap.
When Shepard entered, she looked up at him and flashed a faint, polite smile. He stopped at her desk, folding his arms across his chest, his whole stance formal, but not cold or aggressive.

“What can I do for you, John?” Miranda asked politely, her gaze locked on him but distant at the same time.
Shepard took a deep breath and frowned. It was obvious he prepared for this speech and it did not come easy. Miranda could understand.

“I decided to relieve you of your duties as an XO, Miranda. Your recent conduct suggests that you are too distracted to fulfill your duties and you lost the confidence of the crew. This is a professional decision and has nothing to do with last night’s… affair.”
“I understand,” Miranda nodded, without the slightest bit of surprise, hurt or disappointment showing on her face. She reached for one of the datapads she prepared and gracefully reached it across the desk, towards Shepard.
“This is the handoff documentation. Everything Garrus needs to know about the ship’s status, inventory, fuel and the staff. It has the flight plans, access codes, charts and all the forms that may be necessary. I took the liberty of filling out all the necessary forms for docking and leaving on Elysium and then on Illium and the Citadel. I know how Garrus freaks out from the paperwork, so I compiled only the relevant information that he will need to handle until you reach the Citadel. It won’t be a problem for him. I also included some notes about what measures to take to disguise EDI as a VI, so the Alliance wouldn’t pick the ship apart.”
Like the tidiest secretary in the galaxy, she handed over a storage drive and a handful of access keys, and one more datapad while she talked. After that she didn’t look back at Shepard, just stared somewhere behind him.
“I am sorry I caused disappointment, commander. I accept the demotion and I suppose it means revoking my privileges. I only ask for communication access so I can talk to my sister and access to the observation deck and the fitness facilities. If this is not acceptable I can stay on Elysium and find a ship myself.”
She stopped talking, licking her dry lips, hands returning to her lap and she stared straight ahead, swallowing and waiting for Shepard’s reply.
The commander stared at the datapads in his hand with a tormented gaze, almost like he didn’t believe it was happening. He looked back and forth between the items and Miranda, and he didn’t even try to hide the twinge in his eyes. Miranda stole a glance at him as he slumped into a chair, looking at the datapads in his lap.
“Well, uh, yes. All right, this will do.” he frowned, not lifting his gaze. “You can have the access you need but nothing that requires high security clearance. You don’t have to get off on Elysium. Most of the crew will leave on Illium anyways. It would be pointless to kick you off here. I know your sister is there.” Shepard sighed and looked up at her. Miranda took a deep breath, a peaceful expression on her face as she looked back at him. “However, officially you are under arrest and outside of the privileges granted, you are to remain in your quarters.”
Miranda nodded. “Thank you, commander.”
Silence stretched between them. Miranda kept staring ahead like a good subordinate and waited for her commanding officer politely. She was not anxious any more, even though she felt that this was the last chance to turn things around. In this final moment there was still a thin thread of hope between them, where they could possibly make amends before the chasm became too big. Miranda saw that thread and knew she could reach out.
Shepard was hurt and he didn’t do anything wrong. He tried to convince her, argue with her, even a little begging, demanding and reasoning, giving her several chances to come clean. She didn’t. Instead, her actions rubbed salt into his wounds. He was waiting for her to make the move. She felt his gaze upon her, that last thread of hope.
Miranda waited, until it snapped and was gone forever.

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A/N: Thank you for the feedack, feel free to leave comments. FYI, the next update will come a bit slower...
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The High Cost of Perfection