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The High Cost of Perfection	By : Nicker Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 23047 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Mass Effect and the characters are owned by Bioware. I make no money from this story.

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A/N: Reply left on the forum. Please keep commenting here and check the message board, where I can leave replies.

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Miranda was sitting at a café just outside the Illyria Spaceport on Elysium. It was a busy plaza on a warm, late spring day with plenty of sunshine and a warm breeze sweeping across the bright space. She was sipping a cold drink, hiding her eyes behind a pair of the latest fashioned sunglasses, enjoying the sunlight and the peaceful moment while she waited for the next batch of arrivals to leave the spaceport after clearing customs.
Although she looked relaxed, she was scanning the crowd alertly. She was quite sure she was safe for now, but a little caution went a long way, especially if she wanted to enjoy this short break from all the running.
The last few months were hectic, a long game of hide and seek ever since she left Illium. Cerberus was unusually active, which meant there was a bigger chance of bumping into them, and The Illusive Man was clear in their last communication. It was a pleasure to work with her; yes. He needed to contain the situation; sure.
At least the Alliance was not hunting her, but the bulletin was probably out in spaceports all over the place. According to the bursts of data she got from EDI, her name was barely even mentioned in the Normandy reports. Her status was unknown, her threat level downgraded to medium. It was almost insulting, but at least they didn’t mark her as an active threat. Shepard apparently wasn’t mad enough at Miranda to paint her in a bad light in his testimony.
Miranda was grateful for any tidbit of information that EDI provided, most of all because the AI did it at all. In her last days on the Normandy, she put together a few subroutines that exploited her almost unlimited access to EDI’s code thanks to her Cerberus security clearance. She had scripts running that parsed through all communications and filtered out anything that Miranda thought would be relevant, and sent it to her in random batches whenever the Normandy was communicating.
She also knew that EDI would discover the code eventually, and she could only hope that the AI would consider her short plea she hid in the code and the fact that she gave EDI some ideas how to disguise itself as a VI. Miranda hoped EDI would see the similarities in their situation and consider Miranda’s code as non-threatening. The fact that she received the information suggested that it worked.
Another group of people left the spaceport and Miranda pretended to drink her refreshment as she quickly searched the crowd. She didn’t have to look hard, the person she was waiting for was easy to spot. There she was, in all her tattooed glory, prowling like a feline owning the space around her, surrounded by a bunch of teenagers. Jack, the teacher.
She watched them approaching and noticed with amazement how Jack has changed, wearing a more decent outfit that hid significantly more than her old gear, but more skin than a respectful teacher should show, and if she was not mistaken, Jack decided to grow her hair back. It was a stark reminder of how her own fortunes changed, as she was sitting there with hair cut shorter to even out the damage done by the asaris. She dyed it red this month. She was also wearing the asari’s leather pants and boots like a trophy, and under the light jacket she only wore a tiny, short top that left her midriff naked.
Miranda sipped her drink with a straight face, only her eyes following Jack behind the cover of her sunglasses, pretending to ignore her as the biotic’s gaze passed over Miranda at first, then returned a few seconds later, still unable to place her. The biotic actually slowed down, cutting the conversation she was having with the kids and almost stumbled over one of them as recognition hit her on the third pass. She raised an eyebrow and a smirk spread on her face, involuntarily letting out a snort. That was enough for Miranda and she tore her gaze away, putting the drink down and enjoying the sunlight until she felt a shadow falling on her face.
“I fucking don’t believe my eyes,” Jack sneered, looking down at her.

“Sit down, convict, you’re blocking the sun,” Miranda offered, nodding at the chair opposite her.

Jack complied, dropping herself down into the chair, leaning back and she just stared at Miranda wordlessly with an incredulous look on her face and a grin that would not stop spreading.
Miranda glanced at her from the corner of her eyes but kept quiet, not really knowing what to say. This was as far as her plan brought her, and all she could come up with on the way was to improvise once she got here. She had to admit being a bit nervous about the meeting. She nodded at the waitress, signaling her to bring two of the same drink she was having.
“What?” Miranda asked finally, a bit colder than she intended. “You stare like a kid in a candy store.”
Jack pouted her lips, trying to keep herself from laughing.

“I’m just… I like your hair, I guess.” Jack said, her eyes looking her over.

Miranda touched her hair reflexively, trying to brush it behind her ear.

“Likewise.”

“You look like a trophy wife.”

“Why thank you. You look half-decent, yourself.”
“Aren’t you risking a lot by coming here?” Jack tilted her head as she looked her over. Her expression remained cheerful, but Miranda could see her eyes turn serious. Once again, the biotic seemed to suspect something Miranda was trying to hide. She felt herself becoming self-conscious, subtly pulling herself straighter, more measured.
“Who would, in their right mind, suspect that Miranda Lawson would visit Jack, of all people?”
“Good point.” Jack laughed. She paused until the waiter put down their drinks, still sizing Miranda up. “So what brings you here… visiting me?”
Miranda shrugged again, apparently becoming a habit of hers when Jack was around.

“Let’s say I was in the neighbourhood. And bored. A little. I thought I’d drop by. Maybe to check out how you were coping with decent life.”
Jack sipped her drink, leaning back into the chair.

“Right. You’re running from half the galaxy and you happen to come here. You are either getting sentimental and want to let off some steam, or you are really this desperate and have no one else to run to.”
Miranda sat up straighter, her expression getting darker. Jack was right, of course, but her bluntness caught Miranda off guard.

“What if it’s both?”
Jack shrugged, downing the rest of the drink and putting the glass down with a sigh.

“Fine with me, as long as you are straight about it.” She smirked, looking at Miranda’s chest. “Besides, you’re dressed to kill. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”
Miranda shot her a cold glance.

“Charming.” She signalled the waitress and left a chit on the table, standing up a bit nervously. “I’m staying at the hotel nearby. You can tell me about the others on the way.”
“Yes ma’am,” Jack chuckled, standing up and following Miranda with the amused smirk permanently etched into her features. Even with the running and hiding and the “disguise”, the cheerleader could still pull off a commanding presence. Not to mention her assets. “Nice touch with the pants.”

“Ha! I’ll tell you about it later.”
It turned out that Jack knew less about the Normandy crew than Miranda did. They both knew that Shepard was under arrest, pending trial for a non-existent incident he could not have been involved in, since technically he was not part of the Alliance at that time. It was nonsense to begin with, their only half-truth against him was his association with Cerberus. They apparently didn’t dare to call on Jack as a witness yet.
They reached the room without drawing much attention, which was a small feat in itself, considering their combined looks.
“I used your name for the reservation,” Miranda said to Jack casually in the elevator. “Actually reserved several rooms on different floors.”

“You hacked my profile?”

“Just for the identification. I paid with my own money.”

“You have this kind of money?”

“Well, money I ripped off from some investors on Bekenstein who thought I was still with Cerberus.”

“Good girl.” Jack grinned as Miranda opened the door to the apartment.
Miranda strolled in straight to the bottle of cooled wine prepared on the living room table. She opened it and poured two glasses while Jack took a look around the apartment.

“Well, apparently I’m fucking rich,” the biotic declared with a grin.

“I reserved it for the week. You can stay here if you want.” Miranda said, offering a glass to Jack, getting more nervous by the minute.

“No shit, really?!” the biotic grinned, looking around and walked up to the window to have a look at the view. “I could use a little luxury after Grissom…” She paused. “Wait, you’re not staying.”
“I have to leave tonight.” Miranda said quietly. “There are a few things I have to take care of. Remember, I’m on the run.”
“So this is a pleasure visit—” Jack spun around and saw Miranda putting down her empty wineglass. The former Cerberus agent cast her eyes down and slipped the jacket off her shoulder, letting it fall to the floor. The bra she was wearing under it was a fine piece, but showing off so much skin, coupled with that pants and boots was highly uncharacteristic of her. Jack almost froze, looking the woman over. It was a pleasant view, but something was not right.
“I wanted to show you… this,” Miranda said, indicating her outfit. “Kasumi said that for a second she thought I was you.”

Jack smiled at that. Under different circumstances, she would have laughed at that. She probably will, later.
“What happened to your hair?” she asked, her tone serious.
Miranda shrugged again, looking more and more like a sullen teenager, like the ones Jack needed to deal with at Grissom. Miranda poured herself another glass of wine. She walked closer to Jack and filled her glass, too, put the bottle down and only then did she look at Jack directly, lifting a hand to fidget with her hair.
“A couple of asaris wanted to grab me for a trafficking ring on Illium. They had a thing for hair.” She tore her gaze away and sipped her wine. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. Besides, it’s good disguise.”
“Right,” Jack nodded. She could believe that, but it was not the whole story. “Listen—” she started, but Miranda lifted a hand to her lips, stepping closer.
“Can we talk about this later?” she said quietly, avoiding Jack’s gaze until she finished. She lifted her glass for a toast. “Let’s celebrate instead. To Jack, the dependable. We are all proud of you.”
Jack grimaced, not happy about Miranda avoiding the subject, but she wasn’t going to push it. After all, she was not her therapist. Besides, she did look especially hot with the short, red hair and all that skin showing.

“To Miranda, the uptight bitch, who told me to earn this,” Jack said, their glasses clicking and they drank.
Miranda bit her lip to hide a smile and leaned closer, breathing a kiss on Jack’s mouth, taking the wineglass away and blindly putting it aside on the small table by the window. This time she was more tentative, cautious, her controlled breathing hiding a deeper need and Jack couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. She kept her eyes open to see Miranda with lowered defenses.
This time Miranda wasn’t drunk and wasn’t baiting Jack into jumping her. Jack eventually took over, and they undressed each other in the breaks between kisses and gropes, not bothering to try and make it to the bedroom.
They weren’t exactly gentle, working up a little sweat as they wrestled around on the couch smoothly, jostling for temporary victories that ended in gasps and moans of pleasure. There was a certain desperation in Miranda’s moves as she longed for their bodies pressing together and giving up control just to feel Jack’s hands around her.
Afterwards, they laid next to each other on the couch for warmth and physical support until the rush left them and their breathing returned to normal.
“You know,” Jack mused, staring out the window, slipping a hand under her head to see better, “I can tell if somebody is messed up. Whatever you’re hiding, chances are I would be familiar with it.”
Miranda looked at her silently, not trying to deny or get upset about it. She blushed a little and furrowed her brow to control her emotions, but it would have been foolish to fake it with Jack.
“If you don’t talk about it with someone, it’ll fuck you up.” Jack paused, and laughed bittery. “If you start getting tattoos, you know you’re in deep shit.”
Miranda sat up, resting on her elbow and looked into Jack’s eyes as she spoke.
“I understand, Jack.” She looked her over, observing those tattoos covering her firm, lean body. She could only imagine the stories they told. She got lost a little bit in the patterns, running a hand absently, tracing the ink from her perky breasts to her lap. “But I know what I’m doing… well, not right now, perhaps, but in general.” She flashed an apologetic smile. “And maybe, if we accidentally run into each other a few more times, eventually I will tell you about it.”
Jack reached and took Miranda’s hand, sliding it up to her stomach.

“It doesn’t have to be me. Maybe it should be… him. Don’t you think?”

Miranda sighed, sitting up, untangling their limbs and stood, strolling naked to the bottle of wine.

“Were it that easy…”
Miranda poured again, drinking a few sips with a thoughtful expression. Jack reached for the whole bottle, but she remained lying down, watching Miranda’s dark silhouette against the bright window, the profile of her head as she gracefully lifted the glass to her lips and drank, her posture as measured as if they were in a posh restaurant.
Jack let out a quiet snort, thinking how strange this image was: a once powerful woman keeping up appearances by reflex, while getting more and more darker inside until it was hard to tell, what was going on inside her head.
Jack knew first hand what being on the run did to people, and she also knew what abuse looked like. She still didn’t know why Miranda broke up with Shepard or what happened, and she had no clue why Miranda came to her back on the Normandy. Maybe it was all related, and she was looking for somebody who went through the same things.
She kept watching silently as Miranda slowly dressed up, not ignoring Jack, just lost in her own thoughts. Jack didn’t mind anyway. Maybe Shepard, and to a certain degree Miranda put her on this path of becoming a decent person, but she was still not good at talking. Neither was Miranda and none of them wanted to ruin this moment with awkward words.
So Jack laid there, drinking wine from the bottle and watched Miranda going about. When she was ready, she looked at Jack, flashing her a faint smile. Jack just nodded reassuringly, catching the unspoken message, signaling, it was okay.
Miranda touched her shoulder with a grateful look and left, leaving Jack alone, naked in a hotel suite with a stuffed minibar and days on the bill. Jack sipped the wine, wondering if she should be offended that technically she just got “paid” for sex, but then shrugged and switched on the vids for background noise, while enjoying the view through the window. Maybe she won’t even get dressed until tomorrow.
* * * * *
When the Reapers hit Earth, Miranda was in a hospital on the Citadel. It was a familiar feeling for her at that point, being confined to a bed with the smell of disinfectant getting into her pores. She was staring into empty space with a resigned expression, doing absolutely nothing for miserable hour after miserable hour.
After her meeting with Jack, things started to go steadily downhill. She never actually got back to Elysium, figuring that she would only put Jack in danger. She didn’t want to draw attention to her by making unnecessary visits that could be picked up by Cerberus agents. If they would suspect that Miranda had something on Elysium, they would start looking. Jack was safe until she was on Grissom and the best Miranda could do was to avoid the place altogether.
Just like she had to avoid Illium to keep Oriana safe. The last time they were able to talk, she was still on the Normandy. She told her, that things were going to get difficult and they might not be able to talk for a while. Oriana understood.
She could not go to Earth either, especially since she found out that Liara went to Mars to study the prothean ruins there, with the permission from someone within the Alliance. Miranda doubted the asari was that much interested in the research and more likely she wanted to stay close to Shepard, who was still detained on Earth.
The noose was getting tighter around Miranda’s neck and she had to be more resourceful to stay alive. She hid on Omega for a week but it was disgusting, filthy, got unwanted attention from Aria and a bunch of traffickers who were already looking at her thinking how much she would fetch on the slave market. Besides, she was too out of the loop there and too far away from anything if she needed to act.
The first attempt on her life came when she was on Eden Prime, tracking Cerberus movements, leeching on their resources. She got made, and during the chase, she got shot down, her skycar crashing into a busy intersection in one of the arcologies. There were many witnesses, which probably saved her life and she was hospitalized as a road rage victim, with several broken ribs, fractures and bruises. She escaped from the hospital before the end of the week when somebody tried to kill her in her sleep. Even though she healed much faster than an average person, she was still hurting in a dozen different places when she left.
To top it off, someone broke into the room she was staying at, while she was in the hospital, tossing the place and taking everything valuable, including her datapads. Miranda was left with nothing but the clothes on her back and an omnitool. She spent several days in the ransacked apartment, living on half-spoiled food, unable to even clean up the place with her injuries and no painkillers.
It took her weeks to reach the spaceport, going one block at a time, while the planet was crawling with Cerberus agents. It was nerve-wrecking, a game of wits and patience, every yard gained a victory. She made it off in one piece, her ribs still aching and her body sore from sleeping in hallways and storage room floors, stealing food from vending machines. Later she found out that Cerberus was not there for her, she just had the exceptionally bad luck to be around when they were setting up a larger operation.
Miranda made it to the Citadel in the tourist section of a crowded passenger ship. She found a crappy little flat in the Zakera Wards and started to set herself up again, starting from scratch, recovering her info from the backups, picking up trails and burning through her secret stashes and remaining contacts. She slept irregularly, awake in the darkest hours, when there was a chance she could be attacked.
The next attempt on her life came in an elevator on the Presidium, where she thought she was relatively safe. One of the diplomats probably recognized her earlier, when she emptied a Cerberus dead drop location. She got a nasty stab wound in her thigh that nicked the femoral artery and it was by sheer luck and willpower, plus her active knowledge of anatomy and her biotics that she survived at all, keeping her leg in stasis until she could crawl to a public area and ask for help.
Luckily she could play the victim again, saying she was robbed. Her attacker was lying dead at the bottom of the elevator shaft, where she fell, thanks to Miranda’s last-ditch shockwave blast. In close quarters it was almost suicide to use it, but at least it sent both of them flying, Miranda in the right direction. C-Sec had yet to find the body.
So there she was, bed-ridden, with a throbbing, dull pain in her leg and some other pains from the bruises she got and she reflected on her many failures in the past six months. She already gave up the hope that her rent will be there when she gets out; the landlord will probably clear it out if looters don’t sack it first. At least she had time to upload all the important files to several servers all over the Citadel, so she could access them from her hospital bed.
When she thought it couldn’t get worse, news started to filter in about something happening on Earth and connections lost with dozens of colonies all over the galaxy. Miranda felt her anxiety rising, a rational measure of fear clenching her chest. As opposed to most of the politicians on the Citadel, she was very much aware of the Reaper threat. She fired up her omnitool and tapped into the hospital network, trying to get news from as many sources as possible. Mostly, though, she was concerned about Illium, but she knew the planet had strong defenses. Whenever the war gets there, there will be time for her to act. She wondered if maybe it was a safer place than the Citadel.
The first burst of data she got from EDI compiled feeds from all over Earth. It was heart-wrenching. Apparently, the Reapers attacked there with full force. The devastation was beyond belief, and Miranda found it hard to process it without losing her composure. She read the data with a hand clasped tightly over her mouth.
The next burst of data came soon after. Miranda had barely enough time to sort the previous batch out. The new files contained information about the Mars Archives, Cerberus signatures and Liara’s work. Apparently, the Normandy was on the move, Shepard in charge once again. Her heart started to beat faster. It sounded logical that Shepard would eventually come to the Citadel to speak to the Council.
A miriad of options ran through her head, scenarios about what would happen if they met, how would it play out, what if she would “accidentally” bump into him somewhere on the Presidium. She tried to predict how Liara would react, if the asari would see it as a breach of their agreement. She could argue that she had nowhere left to run, or she could try to convince Liara to let her pick up Oriana and disappear, staying out of their way.
Miranda shook her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose. The trouble with Liara was that she was so unpredictable, that Miranda had no idea if the asari would throw a temper tantrum and order the hit on Oriana just out of spite, or give Miranda a ship and enough credits to disappear once and for all. Maybe they could hide somewhere and weather the war out in a safe place, or at least be together when the end comes…
She shook her head. One option was more pathetic than the other. Growing crops in a small, obscure colony somewhere was no way to live, at least not for them. Not for Miranda with all her skills and knowledge that could help fight the war, and not for Oriana, who should have the career she wanted and advance civilization, or something equally important. No, they cannot walk off the map, but nevertheless, Miranda had to make sure Oriana will be okay.
Next morning, after only three hours of sleep, fresh data was waiting for her in her inbox. The Normandy was docked at the Citadel, but was scheduled to leave in a few hours. She wouldn’t make it there in time to talk to Shepard. She found out that Liara was on board and Ashley Williams was critically injured on Mars, being treated at Huerta Memorial Hospital, just a few districts away.
It seemed like a good idea to be in the same hospital where one of Shepard’s crew was treated, for the added safety it could possibly provide, and maybe the hope of running into Shepard by chance. She hacked into the hospital network, faking a transfer to Huerta for further physical therapy.
It worked, and for the first time in a long while, she could catch up on some much needed sleep. Huerta was a busy place. It also meant less attention on Miranda, who could limp around with a crutch, blending in with the other patients, eavesdropping, getting a view for a change, raiding the terminals and getting new reading materials.
The next few days were quiet, no more info coming from EDI, but a lot of news about the Reapers appearing everywhere. The only thing Miranda could do was to keep herself updated and lie low. It would have worked, but as refugees and injured started coming in, they simply kicked her out of the hospital.
She tried to play the emotional card, saying she had nowhere to go, but all they could offer was to direct her to one of the refugee camps. Instead, she checked out her rented room, which was miraculously there, her rent still running. So she laid low again, healing, biding her time.
The quiet lasted exactly two days, when Oriana simply disappeared off Miranda’s radar. For the first day, she wasn’t worried. With all the interference caused by the Reaper invasion, it was harder to get reliable information from anywhere. She had several safeguards in place, and it took one more, tension-filled day, trapped in a small flat in the bowels of the Citadel, until she could be certain that something went wrong.
She had to do as much as possible before her growing panic threatened to engulf her. She had to leave the flat and disappear completely. From now on, it was going to be a different motel room every night.
Living in survival mode without decent sleep and still injured, however, quickly wore down her nerves. She did everything she could from the Citadel, but it was obvious she needed to get to Illium to pick up the tracks. She started to make plans to get a ship, calling in old favours and making threats if necessary.
She got desperate faster than she hoped and left a message in the Spectre office for Shepard, hoping that it was safe from eavesdropping, asking him to meet her. It didn’t help her anxiety, though, so she decided to go all in. Anything but the wait. She knew she was about to make a mistake, but the booster drugs she took to compensate for the lack of sleep and the drowsiness from the painkillers messed up even her above average biology. Adrenaline was rushing through her veins and with the only important person left in her life missing, she had nothing to lose and nobody to fear.
She broke into an abandoned office in the Embassies on the Presidium, tapping into the diplomatic comm channels to hide her signal and make it interesting enough for Liara to pick it up herself on the Normandy.
She took a deep breath and made the call, way past being nervous. The call connected and Liara appeared, flashing a fake smile until she realized who was on the other end of the line.
“Oh. Miranda. What a surprise.” She sneered with a disappointed face. “Did it take you this long to crawl out of that place?”

“My sister is missing,” Miranda said, ignoring the asari’s jabs, skipping the formalities. “Do you have anything to do with that?”

Liara glared back at her.
“You are a selfish little brat aren’t you? Your world is burning, Shepard is trying to save the galaxy and all you can think of is your damned clone!”

“Yeah. Remind me to call you for a chat when they reach Thessia,” Miranda snarled.
Liara’s eyes flashed at that, dropping out of her mocking act for a few seconds.

“At least I’m helping him fight the Reapers, while you hide like a rat and pine after your little sister.”

“You sidelined me, Liara and made sure I can’t get involved. I could be helping you. And you dare to call me selfish.”
Liara recovered her composure, losing interest in Miranda’s comeback halfway through. She forced a smile back on her face, looking around.

“Ah, I can see why you are mad now. You are jealous, right? You don’t like what I’ve done with your place, mmm?” The asari even leaned to the side to let the camera see the whole room.
Miranda felt a tiny bit of disappointment that Liara even got her old quarters on the Normandy, but it passed quickly. She couldn’t care less about it at the moment.

“You inherited your taste from your grandfather,” she deadpanned, not even getting satisfaction from the hurt expression on Liara’s face. She pushed on, impatient. “What do you know about Oriana?”
Liara shrugged nonchalantly.

“I don’t give a damn about your pathetic family. It wasn’t my people.”

Miranda tried to control her rage, “You promised!”

“I didn’t promise to protect her!” Liara complained, fending off the blame like a spoiled child. “I said I won’t harm her if you stay out of my way. What am I, a guardian or something?”
“This wouldn’t have happened if you let me stay close to her!” Miranda hissed.

Liara ignored the implications, making a bored face.

“Well. What are you going to do.” She reached for the keyboard to cut the feed.
“Don’t you dare switching me off!” Miranda yelled. “You help me find her or I will go to Shepard and tell him about our little arrangement.”

“Oooh, how mature. Princess runs to daddy to tell on the mean girl?” Liara mocked with an exaggerated tone.
“If you could stoop that low, I can do it, too.”

“He won’t believe you,” Liara snarled.

“He doesn’t have to. The doubt will be there.”

“You have no proof!”

“I can be very convincing. Dare to risk it?”
Liara pondered for a few seconds, staring at Miranda on the screen. She could see the determination on Miranda’s face, highlighted by her sunken cheeks and dark eyes. There was no trace of uncertainty in her cold, blue stare.
“What do you want?” she sneered.

“I want to know everything that happened until she disappeared. Every fucking clue your people have about who took her. And I want a ship off the Citadel. I want to be on the way to Illium as fast as possible.”
She added that last bit to sweeten the deal for Liara. She wanted to leave, but not before she made preparations. It seemed to be working, though, she could see the asari considering it.

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll talk to my contacts and get back to you. Satisfied?”

“A pleasure doing business with you, Shadow Broker,” Miranda snarled and cut the connection.
* * * * *
Miranda strolled up and down in the apartment nervously. She was waiting for Shepard, who got her message a few hours ago, when the Normandy returned, and confirmed that he would be dropping by. He didn’t say exactly when, but Miranda was already tense and checked the door every five minutes.
She blew most of her savings to rent an apartment on the Presidium, and spent some money to update her wardrobe and look decent. Her hair was back to its old length and colour, so apart from the weight loss and dark eyes, she looked almost the same as the last time they talked on the Normandy.
She knew that she didn’t need to impress Shepard with a classy apartment and fancy clothing, she mostly did it for her own peace of mind. This might be the last time they could talk, she didn’t want it to happen in a dingy apartment. She didn’t need his pity either, and neither did she need him to think that she tried to manipulate him. Maybe enough time passed now that resentments were put behind them. Maybe they could move on. God knows, she needed that, because she was sick of the fear and the pain and the hardships she had to live with these past months. Still, it was important to make a good enough impression.
As she waited, she went through everything she wanted to talk about with Shepard. Liara kept her word and sent her a lot of data, that her agents dug up. It was overwhelming, very thorough and useful. She guessed that Liara did it out of professional pride, rather than guilt.
The information confirmed what she suspected: her father finally found Oriana and snatched her from her family with some false reasons. The moneytrail also proved that Cerberus was involved, although it was not yet clear, how. Miranda could guess that since Henry Lawson stopped funding Cerberus after Miranda ran away and joined the organization, now, that Miranda left them, Henry would make amends with The Illusive Man and they would start working together again. It had terrible implications, that made her anxious, and she still had a few more days left until she could leave the Citadel.
The door chimed and Miranda jumped nervously, quickly pulling herself together by the time it opened. And there he was, looking pretty much the same as she remembered, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He seemed to be tense, frustrated. Probably all the political bullshit he needed to deal with, Miranda thought. No matter how much she wanted to just talk about things to melt the ice, she knew it was probably too late to repair the damage. This was not the time for making amends.
“John. It’s so good to finally see you,” she offered quietly.

“You too, Miranda,” he said mechanically. He seemed to be making an effort to stay polite.

“About Earth… It must have been devastating.”

“It was. Countless people lost their lives within minutes. The Reapers are everything we feared.”

“They should have listened to you a long time ago.”
Shepard scoffed, waving a hand.

“What about you? Where have you been?”

“Running. You know. The Illusive Man doesn’t take rejection well.”

“No. He doesn’t.” Shepard nodded. He kept his distance and Miranda stayed where she was, like a student reporting to a dreaded teacher.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Miranda?”
Miranda almost winced. He went straight to the point as well, which hurt a little. Not surprising, but a bit painful.

“My sister, Oriana is missing.”

“Missing? I thought we made sure she was safe.”

“We did. I kept close tabs on her, but recently, everything I had in place to make sure she was safe went dark.” She paused. She wanted to tell her about the attempts on her life, but it might come off as her feeling sorry for herself. It would be pathetic. “But with Cerberus on my trail, I couldn’t…”

“What do you need from me?” Shepard asked, cutting her off. He was still patient and controlled. He was just not interested.
Miranda furrowed her brow, trying to hide her disappointment.

“I know you have your hands full. I will handle it myself. But my father is involved. I’m afraid he works with Cerberus on something, but I don’t know what. And he took Oriana with him. I… I need access to Alliance resources. I can’t say any more. You’ll just have to trust me.”
“Trust is a little hard to come by right now, Miranda.”

Miranda nodded quickly, lips pressed thin. She deserved this, she thought, but it didn’t make it easier.

“If you can’t tell me anything, I’m not taking resources away from the fight.” Shepard was getting more impatient now. She had to act fast.
“I can only tell you that I think my father is working on something for The Illusive Man. That’s why I need the resources. To find out if I’m right.”

Shepard shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Miranda, but that’s not enough.”
Miranda’s heart sank. Without proper access, she would be flying blind. She could probably track Henry down, but it would take longer and she wouldn’t know what was waiting for her at the end. It complicated things. It also meant, that Shepard didn’t trust her, and that made her cheeks burn with shame. She was getting a bit dizzy.

“Fair enough. I was wrong to ask for help.”
Shepard didn’t respond, just folded his arms across his chest.

“That’s the only thing you wanted to talk about?”
It was her turn to stay quiet. She wanted to say no, she wanted to scream it, and tell him everything. Tell him she was sorry and she never wanted this to happen but she had no choice. Here was the perfect opportunity. Oriana was out of Liara’s reach, she could come clean.
She cast her eyes down, turning away from him to look at the Presidium view.

“I-I don’t want to distract you from the fight,” she managed to utter finally. She wished she could say more, but telling on Liara would not accomplish much at this point. He would either despise Miranda more for her scheming, or she would create more tension and distrust against Liara in a time when the Shadow Broker’s resources were needed as much as her scientific expertise. No, Liara was almost irreplaceable. Apparently, Miranda wasn’t.
No, the time was not right. Maybe after she got Oriana back and the war was over. If it’s not over, it wouldn’t matter anyway.

“I just can’t think straight until I know Ori is safe.”
Shepard scoffed.

“And here I was, thinking you had something else to say about us.” The disappointment in his voice was poison to Miranda’s heart. She didn’t dare to turn back yet, but she heard Shepard sitting down on the bed. At least he didn’t leave. “I need closure, Miranda. You need to give me at least that much.”

“I thought- I thought we had that.”

“When?! When you didn’t give me a good reason? Or was it that, when you f—slept with Jack just to rub it in my face. Is that it? Your reason for not telling me?”
Miranda was feeling the powers shifting in the room. Shepard was on the offensive, getting the stronger position in their argument and she could not reveal her cards without causing more damage, even if she wanted to. She had to stop this.
Shaking her head, she turned towards him.

“If you are asking if I’m in love with Jack, then no. We’re not together. It was— It was just a fling. I was upset and drunk— and maybe a bit jealous at Jack for getting into Grissom.”
She hoped it would sound convincing, but Shepard just shook his head.

“That’s pretty lame, Miranda. If you realized that you were more attracted to women, you could have just said so.”

“No, I—”

“And if you were just upset, you could have gone to Jacob.”

“Would it have made it less painful?” Miranda struck back, trying to edge out of the corner he was pushing her into. It worked, Shepard closed his mouth and shook his head with a sigh.

“You are right. It wouldn’t have.”
Miranda lifted a hand to her chest, fiddled with her collar and hugged herself with her other hand to hide her nervousness a little bit. It seemed like some of the tension left him.

“Give me one half-assed reason, then. Anything.”
Miranda raked her brain, trying to spin something that would diffuse the situation. She didn’t fare too well in the reasoning department back on the Normandy, which kind of helped make him mad at her, just as Liara wanted. But now they needed closure to move on.
She almost thought for too long because Shepard was glaring at her, ready to speak or leave.

“I—I don’t know,” Miranda shrugged. “I am not good at being attached. It didn’t feel right. I thought that you and Liara—”
Shepard rolled his eyes, resting his forehead on his palm.

“Unbelievable.”

“Isn’t it true? That Liara and you were close?”

“We were, but things changed. She became distant and I was—” he snorted. “Why the hell am I telling you this.”
Miranda raised an eyebrow, but quickly straightened her face when he looked up at her.

“So, you and Liara are not together now?”

Shepard shot her an annoyed glance.

“It is not the right time. We are kind of busy. Besides, she is— I respect her too much to ruin our friendship.”
Miranda had to contain her laughter. Oh, the scheming asari overplayed her role. This was almost too good to be true. On the other hand, it bothered her even more, that she was forced to give him up for nothing. She managed a polite nod.

“I see.”
Shepard stood up and stepped closer to Miranda. She watched him cautiously, unable to read him any more. He was still hurt, that much was certain, but still trying to be reasonable. He shook his head again in bewilderment.

“Look, Miranda,” he sighed, reaching a hand to touch her shoulder. She almost jumped. It was so long ago that he touched her. “We’re both under so much pressure to be perfect, we never give ourselves a break.”
Miranda felt confused. How could he still believe in her?

“We can’t give ourselves a break. There’s too much at stake,” Miranda blurted out, unconvinced, her voice trembling.
Shepard nodded.

“Still. Have you ever wondered, what it could have been?”
Every single day, she thought. At least she used to think about it at first, but lately, she was too busy running for her life to torture herself with it before going to sleep. Still, it took all her willpower not to whimper and fall into his arms. She couldn’t stop herself from trembling, though.
“It’s better not to delve in such thoughts,” she managed. Clearly not the answer Shepard was looking for.
“I see. Then how about this,” he kept his hand resting on her shoulder, his voice pleasantly deep. “If you have attachment issues, we could still try and close this— us on a bit more positive note. Just simple, casual intimacy, for old times sake. Just to let out all the tension and say our goodbyes.”
Miranda’s eyes widened as she looked up at him. A good-bye fuck? Really? She was trying to determine if he was mocking her or baiting her, but by that time, she was totally lost, her head swimming and her eyes fogging up. It was almost too much, his voice, his touch too intense, his persuasive tone filling her head. The memory of his touches—
This is a big mistake, her mind warned her.

“Yes, it would be good,” her mouth whispered. “But it has to stay between us.”
Shepard closed his eyes, nodding slowly and reached up with his other hand to her other shoulder. He pulled her and she fell, holding onto his chest while he leaned into the curve of her neck and kissed her skin. This was all it took for Miranda to come undone.
She let her head drop back, gripped his shoulder for support and let the warmth from his lips wash over her. She tried to control her breathing while he played her like an instrument, peeling her out of her clothes easily. She clawed at his t-shirt, helping him pull it over his head and they took a few stumbling steps towards the bed.
She was already free of most of her clothes, only her panties remained, while he still kept his pants on. She didn’t really care, she could barely see, her eyes unfocused from the rush of pleasure. Sure, Jack also knew what she was doing, but Shepard was stronger, a bunch of well-developed muscles and body mass, firm, hard to grasp but so good to hold onto. It felt safe in his arms, knowing that they could also crush her.
Miranda was panting into his chest, soaking in the feel of him that she missed so much, the caressing of his palms as they cupped her breasts, his eager moves, his thirsty kisses on her chest and neck, his hands hungry for her flesh. She missed it so much and she wanted to get enough to last long after they had to part, that at first she didn’t even notice his trembling, didn’t feel his squeezes becoming stronger.
She wanted to believe that he was missing her, too, and he lost himself in her as much as she did in him. When he squeezed her buttocks hard she hissed, finding it pleasant at first. She was not interested in gentleness anyway.
When he bit into her neck harder, she jerked, but credited it to getting carried away. It can happen.
When he grabbed her panties on her ass and crumpled the fabric in his fists, she squirmed, trying to ease the discomfort that she still believed was caused involuntarily. He was just too excited, after probably months of abstinence. If Liara couldn’t get this close to him, he must have been quite wound up.
When the fabric of the panties cut into the flesh between her thighs, she groaned. She felt the chafing and it was starting to turn her off. She realized that she was trapped, his arms firmly around her, his shoulders above hers, her breasts pressed down between their bodies.

And yet, she didn’t dare to utter a word, not to break the moment, not to push him away. A little discomfort was nothing compared to the time they spent apart.
She felt his muscles clenching, his whole body tightening. Miranda hissed again in pain and gasped as her panties tore on her waist and he swiftly yanked it free, bruising more of her inner thighs. She held onto him, a bit surprised, but still ready to continue, hoping this was the last of the clumsiness. She kept quiet, feeling his muscles roll in his arms where she was clinging to him.
By the time she realized this was not right, it was already too late. Shepard grabbed her ass hard, sinking his fingers into her muscles, forcing her on her tiptoes. He growled into her neck and with a twist of his torso he threw her on the bed, making her yelp in fear. Maybe this was it, Miranda thought hopefully, he would concentrate more on her body, now that all obstacles were removed.
Shepard only stopped to unbutton his pants before diving after her, Miranda throwing up her arms in defense by reflex. He swatted them away, grabbing her wrists roughly and pinning her down.

Miranda whimpered, trying to look into his eyes. She should have said something, making him stop, or asking him to take it easy, but she saw how worked up he was. She was afraid that if she would say something now, it would be over, or she would make him more angry.
He probably wouldn’t listen, Miranda thought as he bit down around one of her nipples that made her twitch from the pain, feeling his teeth, feeling his tongue rapidly lapping at her nipple. Miranda gasped in pain again, holding onto his arms, trying to choke down the rising panic. It must be her exhaustion and the paranoia, she told herself. It couldn’t be him.
She yelped fearfully when he moved to her other breast, squirming harder now. The rush of pleasure she felt before was quickly vanishing, and dread started creeping in to build up the pressure in her chest. It seemed like he was getting rougher, but she couldn’t just possibly let him do that, when he was hurting her—
Still, all she could manage was a whimper when his lips travelled around her curves and he nibbled at her neck, the promise of biting her there now more threatening than exciting.
Shepard stopped, towering over her, pinning her wrists down next to her head. He looked her over, panting, his eyes clouded by lust or by rage, she couldn’t tell. It did make her shiver and fear returned with a rush, dragging with her all the bad memories. That wall in her mind threatened to collapse when she needed her strength the most.
She forced a smile on her face, trying to be reassuring and calm and wondered if she could do or say anything at all that would stop him. She wasn’t this scared and speechless with a man since–
He attacked her with such ferocity, she held her breath back. His lips pressed against hers and she let him in, too afraid to fight him. He was growling, even her passivity seemed to infuriate him. He squeezed her wrists hard while he kissed and bit her shoulder, her chest, her ribs, making her cry out but she didn’t dare to pull away.
He let go of her wrists and grabbed her jaw with one hand, to force her to face him. His left hand slipped between their laps.

“It’s been so long, Miranda,” he breathed, his voice laced with lust, his half-closed eyes more predatory than needy.
She just stared back with a pleading glance, her whole body shivering. She gasped and moaned in pain as he entered her with a firm jerk of his hips, unable to speak, trying to get more comfortable as he rocked his hips. Her voice got thinner and thinner, her arms and legs feeling numb from the fear with every painful thrust, feeling like he grew larger inside her with every move.
She tried to find her voice, but the realization blocked her mind. She stared incredulously into his unforgiving eyes, and it just hurt her more, seeing in them that he knew what he was doing. Not only that, but she felt that he knew that she didn’t dare to stop him. He didn’t care, as long as he sunk deep enough. He let go of her jaw and grabbed her wrist again, settling into a steady rhythm.
Miranda didn’t feel much by then, apart from the numbing pain in her sex. The terror already seized her and she couldn’t move, she couldn’t think straight. It was just that feeling between her legs, that face above her, that body pinning her down, and that dark, dark stare. She tried to form words, ending up with moans of discomfort as she felt the pressure of his hardness sinking into her, until she couldn’t see anything from the tears. She turned her head away, staring into empty space, her hair hiding her cheeks like a thin veil after a while as he moved in and out, faster and faster. She only felt it when an eager thrust hit her deepest parts and sent a sharp pain along her spine. Her voice gone, the only sounds in the room were Shepard’s quiet grunts and their laps slamming together.
Miranda lost her sense of time, she barely registered the warmth, that spread on her belly when he released, kneeling over her. She only saw the blurry spots of the coffee table and the couch behind it. Every sound was muffled and the world narrowed down to a tiny bubble around her. Her body reflexively curled up, grasping the blanket between her knees and clutching it with her hands, shivering.
He said something, leaning over her, but she couldn’t make out the words. She just wanted to be left alone.
Hours passed, or maybe just minutes. Or maybe a day. She didn’t know how long she was catatonic, but when her consciousness returned with a rush that made her gasp and almost choke with pain, she wished she was still out. Sobs were erupting from her with such force that she could hardly breathe between them. The walls crumbled, finally, and they swept her mind away. She could finally cry. She just wished she could stop it now.
* * * * *
Jack strolled out of the Alliance quarters on the Citadel with a lot of things on her mind. Her head was buzzing with all the shit that happened in the last few weeks. After settling into a life of teaching at Grissom, there came the news of the Reaper invasion. Then they were attacked not by the squids, but fucking Cerberus! Again!
They were damn lucky that Shepard somehow got there in time and saved their asses. There were a few awkward moments, some shouted words about Cerberus, but it seemed Shepard still had a stick up his—a thorn in his side about catching her with Miranda on the Normandy. With a little more yelling, she convinced him to assign her students to support roles and not to the frontlines. It could have been a disaster.
They got temporary accommodations on the Citadel to have a rest and regroup before shipping out to one of the human worlds to help the troops. Suddenly, she was dealing with rosters, schedules and supplies instead of getting piss drunk in a fancy bar on the Citadel.
She just got the orders that they were shipping out in a few hours. She gathered her students and sent them to the docks while she handled some last minute bureaucratic shit. With her navy bag thrown over her shoulder, she was leaving the Alliance building, when she noticed someone sitting on a bench at the edge of the plaza, near the entrance.
It was oddly familiar and yet, very strange. She frowned, slowing down her steps and narrowing her eyes. What she saw, didn’t make sense. It was Miranda Lawson, all right, waiting for her, again, only this time, she didn’t bother with disguise. The former Cerberus second-in-command, sitting right in front of the goddamned Alliance, in full view, looking very much like her image on the bulletins.
Still, nobody would have recognized her. Jack was uncertain, too, even when she got closer. Had they not met on Elysium, she would have walked right past her. This Miranda had a vacant stare, her back hunched, her shoulders sank, sitting on the bench like a drug addict, clasping her hands between her knees. Her hair was a mess, her eyes dull, sunken.
Jack almost reeled back from the ghastly sight.

“Cheerleader?” she asked, uncertain.

Miranda didn’t reply, only a tiny movement of her eyes signaled that she acknowledge Jack’s presence. She kept quiet while Jack hesitated. The biotic finally decided to sit down next to her slowly, unable to tear her gaze away from Miranda’s face. She knew that expression very well.

“What happened?”
Miranda shot a glance at her, before returning to staring straight ahead.

“My sister. Oriana. Oriana Lawson. She will be twenty this year. Earth year, I mean. Almost the same age as your students.” She sniffed, rubbed her nose with the back of her hand then clasped it between her knees again. “She looks almost like me when I was twenty. Except the hair. And the smile. She’s a very open personality. Easy to like.”
Jack shook her head. Miranda was blabbering, speaking fast and in a flat tone, like she was reciting from memory.

“Closer to your age. But anyway. You are good with your students. I know. I’m happy you got out of Grissom safely. I couldn’t visit. Too many assassins on my tail.”

“Miranda, slow down. What is it?” Jack asked patiently. “What happened?”
Miranda glared at her from the corner of her eyes and laughed bitterly.

“What happened? Shit. Shit happened. Shit happens. All the time.” She let out a sigh and focused ahead again, fighting a shudder, taking a deep breath to focus. “Oriana, my sister, is gone. My father took her. I don’t know where and why. I have to find her, you understand? I have to!”
“Take it easy, cheerleader. What are you trying to say? Why are you here?”

Miranda stared straight into her eyes.

“I am not a cheerleader.” She said sullenly, but her glare was sharp and angry. “My father is working with Cerberus. He has my sister. I have to find her. How is this complicated?”
Jack shook her head. This was seriously messed up, Lawson was seriously messed up. Was it the grief? Or the stress of hiding from Cerberus? That still didn’t explain her eyes.

“Okay. Tell me what do you need?” Jack said soothingly. She was picking up on some psychology stuff, that was apparently useful when one was a teacher. Maybe it would work on Miranda, too.
“I am going to get her back.” Miranda hissed. It was a threat. “I am going to stop running and get her back. I want you to know.”

“What, for fuck’s sake? What do you want me to know?”
Miranda looked at her again with an annoyed stare, like she was talking to an idiot.

“Everything. I want you to know everything. I promised I would tell. Not now, but after...”
“Jesus Christ, this makes no fucking sense.”
Miranda snorted, standing up, one hand fidgeting with her suit’s collar.

“It will. Believe me.” She started to walk away, but stopped after a few steps, shifting hesitantly from one feet to another. She slowly turned towards Jack who was just standing up. Avoiding to look into her eyes, she spoke before Jack could say anything.

“I am sorry. That’s what I wanted to tell. I called you a mistake. I meant…” She shook her head with eyes closed. “Never mind.”
She took a deep breath and forced herself to look into Jack’s eyes. Jack could see absolutely nothing in those blue eyes.
“I am sorry.” She giggled nervously. “It was a mistake. Thank you for everything.”
And then she turned on her heels and actually ran away. Jack stood there and she didn’t know what happened. She did know, however, what that haunted look meant. Maybe she should have stopped Miranda and got her some help, but she knew that drive. She would do everything for her students, too and wouldn’t let anybody stop her, either.
But one thing she knew with almost complete certainty: the woman she saw was not Miranda Lawson any more.
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The High Cost of Perfection