Chapter Text
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A Flicker of Something More
Chapter I: A Fervent Desire
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Gazing upward through the dorsal viewport in his cabin was a habit for John Shepard that had become somewhat of a hobby. Whether the Normandy was in-flight, and all he could see beyond the comfort of his cabin was the velvet blackness of space, or whether the Normandy was docked, and his view above was the sky of an alien world, it was one of the few strategies that he had found that could help him relax, to take his mind off the Collectors and the mission at hand. The inclusion of his own cabin on the highest deck, with its own viewport, was definitely a welcome addition that the SR-1 had lacked; Cerberus deserved some credit, in that regard.
But as he lay atop his bed and could feel that he had sunk as deep into the mattress as it would allow, Shepard wasn't even sure how long it had been since he had collapsed backwards and began his ritual gazing upwards. He remembered their business in Nos Astra, of saving Miranda's sister, with perfect clarity, but since leaving the shuttle terminal, everything had been a blur. All he could remember for certain was returning to the Normandy, getting out of his armour and laying back, not even taking the time to shower, and he had been laying there ever since.
There was something so captivating about the Nos Astra skyline that had made the time simply pass him by. The sky itself had an almost subtle, deep amethystine haze to it, as if the entirety of Illium was contained in its own planet-wide biotic bubble, which glimmered somewhat as the sun had begun to set. Shepard found it a mesmerising sight, almost hypnotic. Skyscrapers flanked the Nos Astra Spaceport, and the Normandy, on all sides, reaching upwards as if at any moment they could graze the bubble and burst it, all while vessels of every size — ranging from the firefly-like skycars to a goliath asari cruiser that had earlier left the spaceport — were dotted against the shimmering backdrop of the Illium sky. Laying there, gazing upwards, Shepard felt it was just like being back on the Citadel, in the Presidium Docking Bays, watching the ships come and go. It was peaceful.
At a moment like this, it's hard to believe the Collectors are still out there... somewhere, he thought to himself.
As the Normandy sat safely in Nos Astra's port, Shepard was well aware that colonies in the Terminus Systems were still at risk — putting a stop to the Collectors was still their primary mission. It was possible that nobody on board would make it back alive when they took the fight directly to them — he knew and accepted that, as did the rest of the crew; nothing had changed there — but for the time being, the Collectors and the mission were out of his mind as they had just a few days of shore leave, a temporary reprieve, in Nos Astra. The Illusive Man would undoubtedly be awaiting a report detailing their planned next moves for when they left port, something he and Miranda had yet to formally discuss, but she had probably already placated her boss for the time being with reports on their newest crewmembers — Thane Krios, the drell assassin, and Samara, the asari justicar. There was also the matter of their business earlier that day, which he was still expecting a report on.
I should probably read those reports, Shepard thought. He checked his omni-tool to see if they had arrived in his inbox, but there was nothing.
"Strange..." Shepard muttered to himself. "She always forwards her reports to me before she sends them to her boss, but they're not here... that's not like her." He deactivated his omni-tool and returned to gazing upwards. "But I guess after what happened today with her sister, she might need some time for herself. And we're on shore leave anyway now, I guess I can ask her tomorrow."
Even though he had yet to see his executive officer's reports, judging by the preliminary dossiers that had been compiled, and what he had seen of Thane and Samara in Nos Astra, both seemed competent, dedicated, and skilled; they were precisely the kinds of individuals that were needed for such a dangerous and critical mission.
However, despite the ever-present threat of the Collectors, before the mission itself could continue, there were other, adjacent matters that needed to be attended to. He couldn't expect the crew to be at their best for what was by all accounts a suicide mission when there were still final personal affairs to settle, distractions that needed solving. Jacob had mentioned a distress signal sent out by the ship of his missing father, ten years after it had disappeared. Shepard had agreed to chase that signal soon enough. Jack had stated her desire to destroy the remote Cerberus facility where she had been tortured and abused as a child. As Shepard saw it, a place like that deserved to be reduced to nothing. Miranda's personal matter had been her sister. She had wanted nothing more than to save Oriana from being torn from her adoptive family and subjugated under the will of their father.
At least Oriana's safe now. And Miranda got what she wanted. That's what matters.
She, Miranda, was the sole reason they were on Illium in the first place. And yet, since the crew needed and deserved a few days of shore leave to rest and recuperate before they headed out once more, it was the perfect place to stop.
As Shepard lay there, thinking of what had transpired that day, he found it curious to think that despite how close friends he felt that he and his executive officer had become since the beginning of their mission, that she had never even mentioned her sister until the mysterious summons to her office just a few days before. He had seen another side to her during that talk, as she had awkwardly explained the situation and asked — almost pleaded — for his help.
He felt no resentment towards her for hiding such a thing from him. It wasn't as if he deserved to know, it had been her prerogative to keep such a fact of herself to herself. He respected that. And he knew what it was like to be so closed off from other people, as she could be. For him, she was the first person he had been open about his childhood with since the day Mindoir had been raided. He trusted her, felt comfortable with her, but if she still needed some more time to fully trust him, then he would wait — however long it would take. Although he was still somewhat surprised at himself for how desperate he had felt to help her, at how he had ordered the Normandy to head for Illium as soon as she had finished explaining the situation.
That was hasty... and impulsive. That's not like you at all, John. Why'd you do it? he thought to himself.
He found his mind fondly recalling the time that he and Miranda had already spent together since their meeting, from the meals from her personal supply that they had shared in her office, to the long discussions they had shared before and after their duty shifts of their lives and past missions, they had already spent a significant amount of time in each other's company, more so than was necessary for even the two most senior officers. But he felt that she understood him. Truly. That was something he could say of no one else, and partly why he had come to feel so comfortable in her presence, why he enjoyed her company. Yet after what he had seen two years before on Binthu, after what had happened to Admiral Kahoku at Cerberus' hands, he felt conflicted by her allegiance to the organisation. She was his executive officer, and as a result, she was Cerberus, as he was a Spectre, that was a fact. But that wasn't all she was. She had become much more than that to him.
Because she's your friend. She needed the help and you gave it to her. That's all. And that's a good enough reason.
Even though it had been some unknown length of hours since they had returned to the Normandy, with the knowledge that her sister was safe with her adoptive family, the events of the day were the sole thing that raced around in his mind. At a glance, the mission had been simple: secure Oriana and her family and ensure they reached the shuttle terminal and boarded the transport to their new home. The addition of a wrench in the machine like Niket, and even worse, the Eclipse mercenaries hired by Miranda's father, had been wholly unwelcome, but since Miranda had trusted Niket, and Shepard trusted her judgement implicitly, going along with her plan was the only course of action. If saving her sister had meant taking a few bruises from some common mercenary trash, then it was a no-brainer, he had thought at the time. Niket's treachery had been even more unforeseen. Just thinking of it made Shepard feel a bitter resentment for how Niket had treated her, his old friend. But there was no point wasting such energy on a dead man, and despite the complications, despite Niket's treachery, the mission had thankfully still been a success.
I just hope Miranda's alright and that she doesn't take what happened with Niket too hard... she shouldn't have been treated like that.
That thought alone — the hope that she was ok — had been his sole primary concern since they returned to the Normandy. The Collectors. The Illusive Man. The rest of the crew. All were irrelevant. All he could think of was her.
The shuttle ride back to the Nos Astra Spaceport had been silent between them, and as soon as they had boarded the Normandy, she had retreated to her office. There had not been so much as a message from her since about what had happened, or otherwise. But the shore leave was hers, as much as it was anyone else's, and after her exemplary performance as his executive officer on the mission so far, she deserved time to herself. The last thing he wanted was to intrude on what had been a deeply personal matter.
But as he thought of her, and what had happened, he kept replaying one moment over and over in his mind, as he had for what had most likely been hours at that point. He kept replaying the moment as they had left the shuttle terminal, and he had seen Miranda's tear-strewn eyes after she had said goodbye to her sister. It was a side, an emotionality to her, that he had not yet seen up until that point, and yet he simply couldn't get the image out of his mind — the tears, her sniffling, a silent look of gratitude and her smile. Such a beautiful smile. Whilst he sympathised with her pain at having to say goodbye to Oriana, he realised that more than anything, they had been tears of happiness. Oriana knew she had a sister who loved her, and Miranda had left knowing her sister was safe.
I'm glad she was happy... she's got a real pretty smile, Shepard thought errantly to himself, allowing his thoughts to wonder. A smile of his own graced his face as he thought of her hers, and her happiness. Getting there wasn't easy, but seeing that made it all... worth it.
His pleasant thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, loud buzzing from his cabin's intercom as somebody was outside the door and wanted his attention. Shepard was immediately brought back to the present as the noise pierced his ears and drew him out of the deep, thoughtful haze and the pleasant path his mind was headed down. His entire body jolted itself upwards as he sat himself up. Perhaps it was Miranda. It had to be. It couldn't be anyone else — the crew was on shore leave, why would anyone else come to see him? A part of him hoped more than anything that he was right, and that he could ask her how she was, just to know that she was ok.
"Enter," Shepard called out authoritatively. Before the door opened, he cleared his throat and straightened out any creases that adorned his fatigues.