firstkeptdaughter

[firstkeptdaughter]

"Luckily, high doses of the drug impair most species' cognitive abilities to the point where they will not be able to utilize that increased biotic power in combat," Miranda noted, eyes scanning the battlefield as she pondered the wisdom of using the drug against her enemies. "If we could manage to lure some of the mercenaries towards the crates in the back of the room, we could make them explode with just a few precise shots."

So far, the enemies hadn't spotted them. With only the two against an entire troop of Eclipse, they would have to employ a strategy of some kind, or the situation would exacerbate quickly. And using their own smuggled cargo against them seemed like a tempting choice. Perhaps Vakarian's sniper rifle had enough reach that he wouldn't even have to move closer.

"my training was very thorough."

"Don't worry," Garrus began. "I never doubted your skills, Miranda. I will say I've seen biotics do some crazy things before, especially if they were on Red Sand."

[firstkeptdaughter]

♢      —        send  [ META ] + a word / phrase / person / etc  and i will write a head  canon around it.

[firstkeptdaughter]

It hadn't been easy to share that, even if Miranda liked to convince herself otherwise. It was just a declaration of facts, after all, right? She was well aware that Cerberus was one of the few places that would approve of her genetic modifications. The Illusive Man saw it as an asset, not as something to hold against her. Jacob wasn't the only person who had ever gotten to know of her modifications, aside from The Illusive Man and now, Shepard. There had been others.

Others that didn't like hearing the facts too much. Mentioning her genetic alterations had often had people see her in a different light, something she could pick up despite generally not being adept at reading social cues. (Much to her dismay, that didn't seem to be part of her genetic code. Something must have gone wrong there.. and maybe that was one of the reasons why her father had never been satisfied.. No, he wouldn't have been happy with her no matter what she did. That was who Henry was.)

Miranda couldn't understand it, not quite. Why would someone be upset over the fact that she had her DNA altered, something she had never chosen for herself? The cynical part of herself thought it was ridiculous; it wasn't her fault if people interpreted it as an attack on their self-esteem. Regardless, she couldn't help it but shake off that feeling of shame she felt. The words of former Cerberus colleagues rang through her head. Attempts to make her feel guilty about it. 'We don't all have filthy rich fathers to play with our DNA.'

She had an unfair advantage. That was nothing she could deny.

Her brows furrowed at Shepard's words. It couldn't be all she was, could it? Her father's doings didn't define her. Miranda wouldn't allow that. But what the hell did she have in her life that made her her?

Well, there were her motivations.

Her expression softened, the corners of her lips quirking into the hint of a rare smile. "I suppose it's not. You should know that all those genetic modifications hadn't been my choice", Miranda remarked, feeling like it was important to mention. "But I make the best of it. I like to know where I fit in the world. It helps me find meaning in how I was created", Miranda confessed, dropping a hint about her upbringing.

Shepard didn't know the details yet, but if she inquired, she was willing to tell her what she needed to know. For the sake of teamwork. Miranda was a private woman, but she was just as pragmatic as private. If she needed to disclose some personal information for Shepard to trust her, then so be it.

"It's part of the reason why I joined Cerberus. They are very accepting of my modifications. Though, I have a few more significant motives for joining," Miranda told the Commander, ready to go on if she was interested. This was a nice change of conversation, she thought. She hoped Shepard was willing to listen; figure out what Cerberus was truly about. Most people deemed it a terrorist organization, not being willing to look beyond ridiculous rumors.

MIRANDA ALMOST DEFLATED, no that was not the right kind of word. lowered her defenses, didn't exactly describe the situation either. but the tension had lowered between the pair which was a pleasant difference. she said she appreciated her understanding, others would have called it too forgiving. but calliope never wanted to lead by fear. it would only get her so far. she'd found that connection, and trust had been far more effective long term in leading a loyal crew. it was why the crew had backed her up at her defection during the hunt of saren.

and with the mission they were heading to, she needed that loyalty more than anything. it was they only way they had a chance at being successful. miranda was a puzzling woman. and she still hadn't found a point of connection. as much as their fight wasn't something she wanted to happen it provided this opportunity. and it begun to show her a different side of miranda.

she had almost expected her to double down, and hold on to that bit of leadership she could have over shepard. but instead she reassured her that things were clear and she would defer to shepard's leadership from now on. it was interesting, and welcomed, truth be told.

but she hadn't imagined the kind of confession miranda would offer. she'd been genetically modified, by who, the second in command eluded. had it been cerberus doing? was that how they'd earned her loyalty?

the fact shifted her perspective of the woman, perhaps miranda could understand her more than she thought. to be made anew, left wondering your sense of self. it did not feel at least, like something the operative had talked about it. “thank you for sharing that,” she begun, knowing it might not be easy to offer such truth.

however, there was something sitting heavily on her shoulders. it was designed to give her an edge, she explained and she said it like it defined every part of her. it that was so, then the same could be said about shepard's alliance parents. instead of a first step, with her work coming being build on top of it. “but you do understand it is not all you are, don't you?”

[firstkeptdaughter]

AS SAID BY THANE KRIOS  *  assorted dialogue from the mass effect trilogy, updated version

technology cannot cure greed.

face it bravely. i know you are good at that.

perhaps i shouldn't have said that. i don't want you to worry or feel guilty that you are not with me.

i cannot forget you.

there were too many. shields couldn’t hold up.

a quick exit is preferable.

this is… problematic.

i have thought over what you said.

i was curious to see how far you’d go to find me.

you were a valuable distraction.

i prefer to work quietly.

you have only made my life better.

i rarely make mistakes.

you disrupted my plan, but your distraction eventually proved valuable.

what would you like to discuss?

i’ve heard of them.

you’ve built a career on performing the impossible.

i’m dying.

the universe is a dark place. i’m trying to make it brighter before i die.

an assassin is a weapon. a weapon doesn’t choose to kill. the one who wields it does.

i came here to do a job for you.

where shall i put my things?

do you need something?

i won’t be a burden to you.

perhaps later you can give me some suggestions.

i can do nothing to alter my fate.

there’s so many ways to interpret one’s place in the universe.

in my experience, those who are truly dangerous don’t act like they are.

perhaps we can discuss it later. i’ve wasted too much of your time.

it’s difficult to control at times.

i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.

my training was very thorough.

i appreciate these chats we have.

it seems there will no one to mourn me when i die.

you’re the only friend i’ve made in ten years.

i shall… consider it.

it’s clear my conversation skills have atrophied.

just don’t make the same mistake i did.

now that you are here, though, it seems more difficult to talk about.

i abandoned them.

there have been complications.

something happened that should not have.

i would like your help to stop him.

that thought haunts me more than any other.

i don’t need your help, i want it.

i’ll be meditating until you need me.

there is nothing left to speak of.

i know how easy it is for a person to lose himself in the galaxy.

the galaxy is small compared to the endless sea of dark space.

removing evil isn’t the same as creating good.

i appreciate your patience.

you… you are very kind.

that assassin should be embarrassed.

one day i’ll tell you what it means.

i confess, i’ve come to care for you.

i hope it won’t offend you if i carry you in my heart.

whatever may happen, my gun is yours.

i’m… ashamed.

[firstkeptdaughter]

now i did this with miri too :)

[firstkeptdaughter]

bold which habits your muse has

nail biting | throat clearing | lying | interrupting | chewing the ends of pens | smoking | swearing | knuckle cracking | thumb sucking | muttering under their breath | talking to themselves | nose picking | binge drinking | oversleeping | snacking between meals | skipping meals | picking at skin | impulse buying | talking with their mouth full | humming/singing to themselves | chewing gum | leg jiggling | foot tapping | hair twirling | whistling | eye rolling | licking lips | sniffing | squinting | rubbing hands together | jaw clenching | gesturing while talking | putting feet up on tables | tucking hair behind ears | chewing lips | crossing arms over chest | putting hands on hips | rubbing the back or their neck | being late | procrastinating | doodling | shredding paper | peeling off bottle labels | forgetfulness | running hands through hair | overreacting | teeth grinding | nostril flaring | slouching | pacing | drumming fingers | fist clenching | pinching bridge of nose | rubbing temples | rolling shoulders | touching her collarbones or collar

[firstkeptdaughter]

my face after spending what felt like two hours to make a single icon

[firstkeptdaughter]

Take your best shot.

[firstkeptdaughter]

I settle for nothing but the best.

[firstkeptdaughter]

[ AID ]: sender finds the receiver too weak to move, and scoops them up to carry them to get some help.

Moments like that were always more than shameful for Miranda. Not too long ago, she had proudly told Shepard what she was capable of in combat and now here she was, waking up all disoriented with limbs she could barely feel. Her attempt to get up was met in vain, and she still found herself fumbling around on the floor, vision blurry and temples throbbing with a sharp pain as she tried to recall what had happened. She shouldn't be suffering effects this extreme just from being tossed around biotically. Miranda was much more durable than that-

But even she had limits, and only after a few seconds it occurred to her that this hadn't been a simple biotic throw. She's been out the whole time while the Shadow Broker had been fighting with Shepard and Liara.

Damnit. How useless could a person feel?

As she realized that, she registered the feeling of strong arms around her, muscles tensing for a second before she realized who they belong to. Shepard. She picked the Cerberus woman up effortlessly, and Miranda found herself relaxing in her arms, a frown forming on her features. "I could have walked, Shepard. I just needed a few seconds", she insisted. "I heal fast. I'll be ready to work again in a moment.. How long have I been out?"

[firstkeptdaughter]

Dark eyebrows rising ever so slightly, Miranda feels a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She expected so much worse, and that's just putting it lightly. The possibilities of what could've gone wrong briefly flash in her mind; the imagery of it so vivid that she just barely manages to suppress her nervous habit of bringing her hand up to brush against her collar. The ability to visualize things so sharply in her mind certainly comes with many advantages in the world of science or even in the battlefield, but there are times when that genetically engineered trait proves to be rather detrimental. Maybe that is one of the major reasons why she hates talking about anything personal; when you could remember and visualize anything in such great detail, it threatened to put a dent in even the thickest of emotional walls.

Dozens of things could've gone wrong; but they haven't (not with his body, at least), and here he is, having handled that mission on Freedoms Progress that would have killed any troop of Cerberus officers. (Frankly, he's done a better job than she has - and he didn't even have any mental enhancements like she did.)

That can't be it, though, can it? No matter how hard she tries to brush off the thought as a mere irrational fear, it always keeps popping up in her mind: What if he would slowly fall apart? Physically, there is no risk - as long as he doesn't mess with the cybernetics keeping him intact. But mentally? How much of his death does Shepard remember? What does the memory of death do to a person? In the entire history of mankind, no such case has ever been documented. Maybe the effects could be more severe than Miranda hopes, even on a remarkable individual like him. A good reason to keep a firm eye on him. They had Chambers, a psychologist who would assess his mental health, but Miranda had her own surveillance system on the Normandy just in case. If there will ever be any signs that Shepard is no longer up for the mission, psychologically speaking, she'll see them. And she'll deal with them.

At Shepard's request, Miranda doesn't hesitate a second to open her omnitool. "In a moment."

She's written a summary for The Illusive Man on what she had done during the Lazarus Project, one that contains all the relevant details but is more concise and more comprehensible for someone without a science background than the full report she had given to the scientists. Though, she remembers Shepard's background before she sends Shepard the report and how that may affect his comprehension. Former Tenth Street Red, hardly any formal education. She quickly attaches a V.I to the file that would offer word definitions for any specific terminology.. as well as visual guides if he needed them. (Because she really does not want to waste her time explaining tech to anyone).

"Cerberus found your body - what was left of it - within less than half an hour after your brain death", Miranda begins to summarize, thinking it's best to clear things up now. She leaves out the unpleasant details of how little had been left of Shepard. She remembers the way he looked when she first saw him - the way his eyes were popping out of the socket, the way the jaw that had shifted in his skull, nose melted away entirely. The way the fabric of his combat undersuit had fused with his flesh, something that Cerberus spent hours removing from his skin. The missing hands. That was just the gist of the gruesome picture. Damn her too accurate memory.

"If we had found you a few minutes later than that, you wouldn't be here right now."

A fact. The project had been damn near impossible enough. But two or three minutes could have turned damn near impossible into truly impossible.

"To preserve your brain, Cerberus kept your body in a permanent stasis. I don't think I need to tell you how extensive the damage was. We used a wide array of different methods to repair your cells and tissue. Nanotechnology, stem cell therapy, bio-synthetic implants. I also implanted the cybernetics in your body that are necessary to keep your body functional. You might find that they come in handy in combat", Miranda summarized.

As Shepard expresses his gratitude, her gaze on the man intensifies, as if whatever work she had been doing at that terminal was no longer relevant, eyes softening for a brief moment, a hand moving to rest at her hip. "I'd appreciate that."

She's surprised he isn't resentful that she brought him back.

There isn't much that could surprise her after everything she's seen, but Shepard's change in mind was not something she expected to see so soon. For as confident as she is, if there is one ability she lacks confidence in, it's people skills (or rather the lack thereof.) That's why she is glad to have Jacob. She does throw a lot of smart-ass comments at her colleague, no doubt, but when it comes to gaining the trust of other people, he knows a lot more than she does, probably more than she ever will. Miranda has no doubt that without him, Shepard would have a lot more suspicion towards Cerberus than he has anyway.

She wonders if he plays a part in this. Taylor sure is a lot more talkative than she is - exactly how much have him and Shepard been talking while she was absorbed in her work? What phrase could it have been this time - she remembers one from Jacob, 'Miranda is.. stoic, but she can be nice. In her own way.' The one he used to put in a good word for her back when they were working together at the Lazarus station, though Wilson just snorted at that comment of Jacob's.

..Really, where was that coming from?

" well... from what it feels like, i guess you have. " No bones crumpling yet and no internal organs collapsing into sudden failure, as far as he can tell. It occurs to him that he'd like to know what exactly has been done to his body. ( To it? Perhaps not to his body so much as what has been done to an entirely new body that he now happens to inhabit. Whatever — he can ponder the implications of that later. ) " Think I can get a summary of what you've done with Lazarus forwarded to me? "

Twenty minutes doesn't seem adequate time to explain it all, and he's not so certain he wants to hear Miranda attempt to boil his new existence down to the basics. It's bothersome enough the way she speaks about it now. 'The Illusive Man is very impressed with you. I'm eager to see if you can live up to his expectations on this mission' — as if he were their pet project. Some new and novel product of engineering that was expected to perform to standards. And it's not as if this is an unfamiliar feeling ... he's used to this song and dance of nearly three decades: to shattering boundaries set by the average human body, to pushing every fibre of tissue and straining neural pathways far beyond capacity to fight for just a moment longer — and another — just one more. If he hadn't been fine with it to some extent ( if he hadn't desperately needed to leave Earth ), he would have never let Alliance doctors poke around in his body and fit him with implants in the first place.

Perhaps that's the worst part of it, though. He's not an N7 initiate; there's no designation to earn, no needed testament to his capability to perform and to outlive, no next course or graduation ceremony to push towards. He's not seventeen and at the very end of his rope with the Reds, searching for any possible ticket off-planet no matter what it took. The necessity of performance, to prove to the galaxy his right to survive, should have been over when he had earnt the freedom of becoming a SPECTRE ... that was what he had been led to believe. That was what he had allowed himself to believe.

Evidently, that isn't true. Not anymore, at the least.

He keeps his eyes on Lawson, not bothering to hide the suspicion in the his scrutiny, nor the conflict and mild confusion in the deep set of his brow. He can't get a good read on her, and it's deeply frustrating. More than it should be, perhaps. He wouldn't be surprised if his other resentments were bleeding into his still-forming impression.

Though surely he can't shoulder the blame entirely for that. He's made an effort not to show it — to do so, he thinks, would be a vulnerability, and a sign that she's gotten to him — but he's been mentally swirling around everything Lawson said to him before Freedom's Progress: about the potential plans for a chip in his brain, about the Illusive Man's subsequent insistence on preserving Shepard as he was. It was oddly candid and entirely unnecessary information to offer on her part, hadn't it? ... but Cerberus has been trying to impress upon him their eagerness for honest collaboration. And, no matter that Jacob has thus far been the one to insist on total disclosure rather than deception when it comes to his new employer, Miranda has generally been forthcoming about Shepard's condition. ( Yet more contradictions that Shepard can't quite resolve. ) But there's something still unsettling about it — something more unsettling than being told that you could have had a chip in your brain controlling your every move — that he can't place.

His memory before the Normandy attack is intact enough that he knows that Cerberus aren't to be trusted. What would be the use for Cerberus of keeping the negative memories intact? ... unless, perhaps, their technology was developed enough for complete biological construction ( ... well. almost complete biological construction; from the logs, it sounds like a non-significant part of him is now synthetic ) — but not quite developed enough to go digging around in his head and altering memories?

There's the possibility, too, that it's all a ploy. Maybe there had never been plans for any chip, and Miranda had merely been instructed to tell him otherwise. The Illusive Man, in his adamant refusal, would posture himself effectively as a true ally to Shepard — at the small cost of Shepard's distrust in his second-in-command to be. Good cop, bad cop. Shepard knows that game well enough.

... or, for all Shepard knows, she could be cleverly misdirecting him, presenting the truth as an unfulfilled possibility in order to lower his guard, and maybe he does have a fucking chip in his head, after all.

The deeper he attempts to dig into the web of potential schemes that might be afoot, the deeper he spins himself into a pit of confusion. And, really, he's spent long enough on this — on the shuttle to and from Freedom's Progress, and simmering the endless possibilities in the back of his head along the entire mission. It's toeing the line between unhelpful and lethal, judging from the bullet he nearly took in the head from a LOKI mech as he'd sat behind a crate for one contemplative moment too long. Not to mention, if he really does have a chip in his head, then it's already far too late to be debating all of this.

He exhales a sigh through his nostrils, pinching at the bridge of his nose. It occurs to him that, with his caustic responses to Lawson thus far, his continued attempt at gratitude could still be read as sarcasm.

" I mean that — I'm no scientist, but even I can figure bringing someone back from a puddle of meat and tissue isn't exactly easy work. Considering the effort it takes to resurrect a dead man, the least I could do is trust you. " ... an ' I guess ' also sits on the tip of his tongue. But he holds it back with remarkable restraint.

" If it's an option — for the mission's sake, maybe we could start over. "

[firstkeptdaughter]

i desperately need miranda icons and i will find them

[firstkeptdaughter]

All the rare tension that had built up within Miranda faded the second Shepard offered her assistance. That was the least thing Miranda had expected. She had expected so much worse, so much more chiding.. was that really all of it? Not that she wasn't glad. She was more than relieved, but she had been prepared for so many things that weren't this.

Commander Shepard truly wasn't who she thought. She had expected someone.. more like her. Harsher. Less forgiving. Less understanding.

But maybe that's why she wasn't in charge. Maybe that's why no one looked at her with that deep admiration and respect the way the crew looked at Shepard.

(Things were different for Miranda, though. She couldn't be different. Couldn't change. The world outside left her no other choice. Did it?)

"I appreciate..", Miranda began, unsure how to phrase things. Your professionalism? Something about that choice of words didn't resonate with Miranda for a reason she couldn't explain.

"..Your understanding", she went on, opting for the sincere choice of words. "Though I can assure you, there will be no more trouble. Things are clear now", Miranda promised, not wanting to give the impression that she needed to rely on her Commander when it came to her personal issues. She didn't. If anyone in this galaxy was self-sufficient, it was her, and it was something she took pride in. Something she wanted the Commander to know.

At Shepard's confirmation that she would not mind to hear Miranda tell something about herself - no, appreciate it, she stood up, placing a hand on her hip.

Where should she start? There weren't many interesting things to know about her, aside from the very long list of impressive achievements that have gotten her where she was now. But Shepard had seen her work on the field. And those things were something the Commander could easily find out by just looking at her Cerberus files.

The reason behind her achievements, though.. well, maybe that was worth knowing. She wasn't sure why, but she felt like Shepard deserved to know the truth. Making it seem like she could take credits for the things she was capable of when she was standing in front of an even more capable indivudual who earned every single achievement because of their spirit and discipline felt like a lie she couldn't live with.

Not that she ever claimed that she could take credit for anything. Ever. But the few people who know about her genetic modifications have always given her the impression that she had been unfairly privileged, a cheater of some kind, to the point where any admiration she received for her skills managed to remind her of that. Where praise previously left her cold, it almost made her feel.. worse now. Even Jacob, who claimed she was deserving of everything she had accomplished, managed to make her feel alienated.

"You should know that I've been extensively genetically modified", Miranda decided to bring up, feeling that heavyness in her shoulders lessen at the mention of her creation. "Everything about me is modified. My intelligence, my physical abilities, even my looks." She settled for the three most major and obvious ones, the ones that drew the most attention.. and were hardest to hide. Not that she wanted to hide anything. She liked to work with what she was given, evident by a subtle sway of her hips she hadn't ever intended.

"My genetic make up was designed to give me an edge. I'm very good at just about anything I choose to do. It's the reason why The Illusive Man handpicked me, and why I am responsible for leading the most challenging projects Cerberus has to offer."

There. She said it. Now Shepard no longer had to live with the delusion that Miranda had brought her back thanks to hard work.

Whether she would handle the topic of her genetic modification well remained to be seen, though. People generally didn't react well to it, and perhaps it was an odd thing to bring up - but what other choice did she have? She didn't really have a family (well.. not one she could keep in touch with) or any close friends. No hobbies. Nothing like that.

THE COMMANDER DIDN'T EXPECT MIRANDA TO STAY QUIET after her accusations. even though from the little she knew of the cerberus operative, she had been a woman of few and precise words. but after being so quick to deny the accusations the first time, calliope had assumed she would be equally as quick to smooth over the lie. but no such thing was happening. she'd struck a nerve, shepard assumed. it was the only explanation for such a prolonged silence, even if she'd be clueless as to what.

she couldn't quite understand miranda. jacob had been easier to read. perhaps it was the fact that he'd been an alliance soldier once, and she'd spent her entire life surrounded by how those officers operated. and while calliope didn't completely agree with his reasoning for joining cerberus, she understood where he came from. miranda was an entirely different situation. and she couldn't wrap her head around how a woman of such intellect didn't see the illusive man's knife hanging over their head.

her expression softened once miranda admitted she was right. truth be told, the reason behind uncovering the secret monitoring had been similar. shepard had been trying to limit edi's access to her quarters when she stumbled upon the measures miranda had installed. it seemed the woman had followed a similar, yet opposite, line of thinking. and there could be the start of finding some sort of common ground with her direct subordinate.

when she continued to talk about her field performance, shepard let her hands fall to the side with a slight shake of her head. “ your concerns or doubts aren't my problem, ” cal explained. and it wasn't, because deep down she shared the same concerns. “ what bothers me is going behind my back. ” it was the reason behind her wish to form connections with her crew. she'd rather not gain their loyalty by fear but by a common understanding.

“ next time you have similar issues, you come to me. i want to know what troubles my crew. ” she may be the commanding officer, but she didn't consider a difference of opinion a case of insubordination. instead, she looked to nurture a bond between the crew. maybe it wasn't as strong or deliberate with a cerberus crew she didn't trust, as it had been on the original normandy, but it was the only way they had a chance against the odds of their mission.

the change of topic surprised her pleasantly. after trying to see what was beneath the mask the other woman wore, miranda was offering a sliver of what laid behind. shepard nodded, refraining from asking a question herself. she'd take whatever part her xo was willing to offer. “ i would appreciate it, ” she said, the frustration gone from her voice, hoping it would prompt miranda to do so.

[firstkeptdaughter]

“Of course, Commander."

The answer comes quickly, tone leveled but polite and she looks up from her screen. She might have a stubborn streak, something that gets her into discussions with Jacob sometimes, but when it comes to fulfilling her duties, Miranda is more than diligent, always willing to push her seemingly never-ending limits to get the job done.

She’s relieved the Commander is thanking her. Without a doubt, she had done the best she could, something the Commander doesn’t fail to recognize. She is used to people setting her up to impossible standards. Most of the time, she exceeds people’s expectations with what she does. Always comes up with some way to outdo herself.

At the same time, that means the bar is so high that whenever she commits a single mistake, the disappointment and scolding are much more severe than it would be for anyone else. It is something that has haunted her since she existed. It had started with her father and most of the people under his employ and continued with The Illusive Man.

Even Jacob, who is the closest thing Miranda has to a friend among her coworkers (even if it doesn’t seem like it from an outside perspective) doesn’t fully understand it. She couldn’t help but feel that he was among the many people who treated her differently, despite what he might say about the matter.

Something she undoubtedly has internalized with the way she feels about her own mistakes. Each one, no matter how small, was stored in her memory and when one more is being committed, it sometimes it feels like the weight of them all comes to hit her, threatening to suffocate her.

The mission on Freedom’s Progress had been a shot in the dark, with no one knowing whether Mordin’s experimental formula to hide from the Collectors would work. But it wasn’t just that; the fight had proven to be embarrassingly strenuous.

As competent as the three of them were, the enemies had made them look like reckless young mercs looking for quick money and running into a nasty surprise. It had taken some clever tactics and a good amount of luck for all of them to make it out alive. Miranda had been on challenging missions before — overseeing the most challenging jobs that Cerberus could offer was her duty, for a fact. So why had she handled that one so poorly in her eyes?

No time to dwell on it though, she thinks. There’s never the time to dwell on any stupid emotions when there’s a job to do.

"I appreciate your cooperation as well", she says, sincerely,  for as stony as her expression and as crisp as her voice is, she means it. The Commander’s work on the field had been outstanding.

She’s about to glance back at the screen when she hears the compliment. When was the last time she’d heard something that remotely tugged at her heartstrings?

Expression softening, she releases a faint sigh, though it does not carry a hint of annoyance, and she gives the Commander a small, tentative nod. She didn’t expect any gratitude from the Commander, and it feels relieving to receive it. For the past two years, Miranda had been working on the Lazarus project non-stop and when Shepard had woken up for a while it felt as if her world might threaten to fall apart. She didn’t know whether Shepard would be any sane and functioning and then there was the attack on the facility, all her fault because she had misjudged Wilson.

"I’ve done damn good work", she retorts. Maybe it it’s those comments like that from time to time that make people believe she is full of herself, but it’s just a fact. And there is a flicker inside her that believes the accomplishment of Shepard is something she can own. A part of her wishes that her father would know of all that, that his ‘failed’ daughter had brought a human being back to life. But she brushes off that thought, she isn’t a young girl seeking her father’s approval anymore.

"I understand if everything is a lot for you to take in", Miranda says sympathetically. She is what she considers rational, maybe what is widely considered cold, but she isn’t ignorant. She knows Shepard is probably overwhelmed by everything, and she knows exactly that she has the tendency to be harsh on people (although she is very convinced that it is necessary much more often than people want to admit).

Besides, while she won’t go for any more field tests (Jacob would probably be upset, and he was right — Shepard has proven to be capable in combat and that was plenty of testing already), her job is to ensure Shepard has everything he needs to function.

"If there is anything you need, let me know. The Normandy will be here in about twenty minutes.“

@firstkeptdaughter // plotted for a starter.

it's silent here in the cerberus station and in the seats near their boarding zone. He doesn't like it; it's too soon after a fight — one that didn't last nearly long enough for his liking — for a cooldown. Joker's aboard their new ship already (the lucky bastard), clearing pre-flight checks with the rest of the crew that Cerberus have cobbled together, and there's little else to do now but to wait. Shepard shifts his feet against the ground. Leans his weight on one leg. Then the other. Stands. Paces up and down the row of seats, from the window and back.

And he stares out the windows again at the ship that awaits him.

From the moment he gotten up from that bed and up until now, he's been wondering if this is nothing more than a very, very long dream. ('The whole galaxy thinks you're dead,' Jacob told him, and Shepard himself isn't so convinced that's not the truth.) Even hoped for it — how could he be sure that any of this was real? of who he was, of what he was... or what these people might have done to him in their efforts to bring him back? When Cerberus' name had left Jacob's mouth, the thought possessed Shepard for a moment, alongside a wave of sudden rage and revulsion: that things might be better, simpler, if he were still drifting through amidst the wreckage of the Normandy, the last bits of oxygen in his suit dying in his lungs. (At least he would still have known, then, that they were his.)

Maybe none of this was real. And if it was real — how could Shepard possibly know if his mind is still his own?

But Freedom's Progress had given him all the evidence he needed. The biting cold of the wind scraping against his cheek, flushed out by the scalding heat that swallowed him as the LOKI mech crumpled... the flash of embers burning into his eyes and the adrenaline and biotic power that rushed through his veins — like floodwaters shattering a dam. That was life. That was real. THIS is real.

It's not just the seconds before death, stretched beyond reality by Shepard's delirious, oxygen-deprived brain to grant him the desperate illusion of one last chance at life. Not just some fever dream hovering beneath his consciousness as Cerberus does what they please with his reconstructed body. And he's not just some guinea pig scampering through the maze of a Cerberus facility, a new plaything to be ordered here and there as they pleased.

That was what those first moments had felt like — his mind still muddled with memories of two years and twelve days ago, memories that felt an eternity past and yet still like yesterday, the fog pierced through by the barking of commands ('wake up, Commander. Shepard, do you hear me? Get out of bed, now') through the lab's speakers. Even now, Miranda talks about him as though he's a trial... a Cerberus experiment.

He wouldn't put it past them. After all, he remembers what they did to Kohaku.

... Miranda.

His eyes sweep the room until they land on her, where she's still working the terminal, and he watches her for a moment with caution. It was her voice, crisp and forceful, that had roused him from sleep — or whatever the hell you could consider the state he was in — and her voice that had guided him through the labs and the hostile base.

Shepard didn't like that. He's never liked being told what to do.

Still, no matter the knee-jerk hostility that rears its head whenever she speaks to him now... he knows very well that he owes her his life. And, no matter the Illusive Man's intentions or hers, it's in part thanks to her that he's been brought back to his pilot and to his ship. (... his ship. But not his team. Without them, he feels like nothing more than a limb amputated from its body — muscle memory still twitching its nerves, giving it the semblance of being alive; but it knows, and its butcher knows, that it's running out of time. Seeing Tali again at Freedom's Progress only reminded him of that... and then, just as quickly as they had reunited, she left him again to bleed out: veins severed from the heart that pumps into him life and blood.

(But Joker's here now. So is their ship — Shepard won't say its name until he's properly aboard, he and Joker agreed to that — and suddenly there's a glimmer of hope. A bittersweet mixture of nostalgia and yearning and fulfilment swirling together and rising in his chest, loud enough for now to drown out the resentment and suspicion. This is the best things get if he's looking for a moment to give his new colleagues a chance at second impressions.)

He looks at Miranda Lawson, and he feels... he feels — damn if he knows what the fuck he's feeling right now. It's like reaching for a thought within a dream; through the whirlwind of emotion, all scattered by the mess that Cerberus have caught him up in, it's difficult to form a solid opinion of her.

He doesn't know if he can trust her. Jacob, at the least, was honest with him about Cerberus... but from Shepard's and Miranda's little chat after he had been briefed by the Illusive Man, it seems she doesn't trust his motivations, either.

Oh, well. She doesn't need to trust his motivations. Just as he doesn't need to trust hers to be able to thank her. (And there — now he has something to do.)

He walks over, arms folding as he mulls briefly over his words. " ... I appreciate your cooperation on Freedom's Progress. "

They come a bit gruff. But that's to be expected, given the situation they've landed him in. But, after another moment's pause: " ... and your work on the Lazarus Project. On bringing me back. "

[firstkeptdaughter]

i just came to the conclusion that anyone who isn't speaking english is translated as speaking english in an australian accent for miranda. that means garrus, samara and liara have australian accents.. yeah

[firstkeptdaughter]

send me  ‘ f e a r s ‘   and i will tell you one (1) thing my muse is scared of, how scared they are on a scale of 1-10, and why they’re scared of it.

There's very little Miranda is scared of. But there are a few things. (I know the prompt is one thing, but as I wrote this, I started with the first thing and realized that it's not her top ranked fear, so I'm gonna share two fears, both regarding Oriana.)

Miranda is scared of Oriana not liking her. It's not a fear she will easily share with anybody (not that Miranda easily shares any feelings with anybody) because of how childish it sounds to her. Generally speaking Miranda is the last person to care what others think of her, but when it comes to Oriana she is different. She's spent her entire life looking out for her and protecting her and she cares about her more than anything else in the galaxy. If there is anybody from whom rejection would hurt, it's Oriana. That's one of the reasons why Miranda doesn't want to talk to Oriana on Illium unless Shepard convinces her to.

That's a 7, because Miranda could deal with Oriana not being too fond of her just as long as she's fine. It would shatter her self-esteem a lot, though.

There's one more thing she is more scared of and it ranks a 10, as it is the thing she is most terrified of. She's afraid she could hurt Oriana if she got too close to her. That she'll be too much like her father. That's something she could never forgive herself for. Miranda knows Oriana has had the life she could never have and she doesn't want to mess this up.

[firstkeptdaughter]

The moment Shepard's accusation (which was nothing less than the truth) left her lips, Miranda's shoulders tensed and the priority to maintain her facade got to the forefront of her mind. She had been in that kind of situation many times. Not in a long time, though. Miranda was used to being so many steps ahead of people that they'd never figure out what she's been doing when they weren't looking. Growing up with an unfathomably controlling father that dictated the tiniest aspect of her life, she's learned how to evade surveillance from a young age. Not even Jacob was fully aware of the extent it took to leave home. It had never been a mere matter of sneaking out at night.

And even after she'd left, he had never kept chasing her.. and Oriana.

It was rare that anyone figured out what she's been up to when it was a skill she had to perfect in order to survive.

The Operative remained silent for a moment, mind drawing a blank as she considered the best way to respond to this. Bloody hell, she should have prepared for this moment. How could she have been so damn idiotic to think the Commander, the Alliance's best engineer might not possibly find out? Shepard must think of her as a complete and utter fool.

And now she's just undone all of her work, all the effort she's put into trying to gain her trust. Undone it, and created a barrier between them that would be tough to break through.

Miranda pursued her lips, but kept a neutral expression otherwise. An expression that did not betray the fact that the Commander's words felt like a stab to the Operative's chest.

As much as she would never admit it, she felt like she was being chided like a small, incompetent child.

Damn it, this shouldn't affect her this much. Miranda had few weakpoints, and normally, being criticized was far from a weakpoint for her. She generally didn't care what other people thought of her, an upbringing full of harsh words had hardened her against the words of others no matter how deep they might have cut most people. But Shepard.. Shepard was a woman who she admired more than anyone else, who she perhaps even envied, although she would never admit it to her face.

"You're right", Miranda began, chosing to affirm her words - she figured that would be the best way to calm the Commander down. Admit her mistake right away. "I shouldn't have monitored your private quarters."

There was a small pause - an awkward pause, Miranda realized, because her response was most certainly insufficient, and therefore she chose to fill the silence quickly.

"You've proven that you're up for the task. I've seen your work on the battlefield - you've done things that took an incredible amount of cognitive and physical demand. I shouldn't have any doubts about your condition."

Perhaps unbeknownst to Shepard, it had been more than doubts about her condition. For starters, monitoring people had become second nature to Miranda, it was something she did without a second thought. She would have done it even if she had no specific reason to, just because.. it's what she did. Not having control over anything was alien to her. Second, she'd doubted the Commander's motivations.

Remembering what the Commander just told her - that she barely knew anything about Miranda, the Operative decided to switch topics.

"Maybe you're right. You hardly know anything about me, whereas I've spent the last two years learning everything there is to know about you. I suppose it's about time I tell you something about myself."

Miranda was ready to stand up, but she was waiting for a signal, a signal that Shepard actually wanted to know something about her.

HER INDEX PINCHED THE BRIDGE OF HER NOSE, trying her best to contain her frustration. but truth be told, miranda was testing the threshold of her patience. and while she'd grown to have an abundant of it, it wasn't a bottomless pit. calliope was persistent in wanting to find some common ground between them. whether she liked it or not, she'd decided to work with cerberus' assets and miranda wasn't going to magically stop being her second in command. but being open minded towards her was was turning out to be quite the feat.

deep down, there was a part of the commander that respected miranda. her sharp mind, meticulously crafted skill-set, and unwavering drive or loyalty could have been a great asset to the alliance. they could've saved lives. then again, shepard reminded herself, maybe she believed she was doing as such with cerberus. after all, hadn't she fallen into the same trap?

when miranda begun talking about the potential side effects, cal's eyebrows furrowed, and in that moment she sympathized with human biotics. she wasn't one herself, she could never fully understand what it entailed. and while, being regarded as dangerous was something she was familiar with, the implications of her words, of being seen as... a ticking time bomb, brought back the conversations she had with kaidan regarding his L2 implant on the original normandy.

then again, was miranda wrong when even herself, at times, couldn't recognize the image in the mirror?

" you know damn well i'm not questioning the importance of this mission, " calliope begun. otherwise, she would not be going near cerberus unless armed with a gun. " and that i've kept my mouth shut about being monitored like a lab rat. " EDI, kelly's questions, dr. chakwas regular tests on her physical well-being...

but if miranda was not going to come clean, shepard would spell it out. " however, i find additional monitoring of my private quarters pretty high on the list of important information you've withheld, don't you? "

and there it was, out in the open. " seriously miranda, you thought i wouldn't find out ? " she leaned closer to the woman's office, placing her palms on the edge of the desk and narrowing her green eyes. wasn't EDI's default access and programming enough as they were? " maybe it would fly if i was just a grunt, but you know i was one of the best engineers the alliance had to offer on the field. "

shepard deflated, pushing some distance between the two of them. " how do you expect this mission to work—to trust you as my second in command—if you aren't willing to give me the same chance? " she made her for god's—whatever god ash believed in—sake.