#like yeah sure he acted rashly because of his emotions but can you imagine what kind of HURT he must have went through to make this decision

[koreandragon]

why the fuck did i go on twitter....

[taeguboi]

BTS Reaction to you bumping into an ex that was emotionally manipulative / abusive

... (and in which the BTS member is your current boyfriend)

So first of all, a big fat [!]Warning[!] about the themes about abuse - it’s not like highly descriptive or visual, just mentions about it but I don’t want to upset anyone. 

Like seriously, please don’t make yourself read this because it’s BTS themed or because you think you should force yourself to read something like this when you aren’t ready too. Sending much love to everyone who might have had similar experiences <3 

EDIT: here’s my Reactions Masterlist if you would like to pick out some content to read that’s more your jam :)

RM

Calms you down

You see your ex one day when you and Namjoon are just walking down the street before a nice stroll in the park. Today was supposed to be about you relaxing and forgetting about all of life’s problems but you can’t help but feel a bit sick in the stomach at the sight of your ex who was very emotionally abusive and manipulative. He’s right there in the near distance; across the road but heading in your direction. You start thinking all sorts of negative thoughts about yourself like maybe he was right about your appearance, weight or ambitions… 

Without you even saying a word, your current boyfriend Namjoon just knows there is something the matter. Just a second ago you were extremely chatty and having a laugh and all that, and the next thing he knows, you’ve gone silent, so pale, almost grey, in the face. 

He looks around, in front of the two of you, behind, then finally as he turns back, he can see across the road, a lonely figure. From description, he initially wonders if it’s this ex you opened up to him about even though you still haven’t said a word about it right now.

The aim here for Joon is to stay calm and ensure that this doesn’t get made into a scene. For now, at least he thinks so anyway, the ex hasn’t caught sight of the two of you yet. But in order for this to have a chance at being handled well, he needs you to talk to him (to Joon).

“Um… is that…?”

“Afraid so” you reply.

“Don’t worry about it honey, all you have to do is have a normal conversation with me, yeah?”

“Okay” you utter.

And that’s exactly what the two of you do. He asks you about how your work / studies are going and you manage to think just about straight enough to send calm, constructed replies and the two of you even get a giggle in when your boyfriend responds to something you just said with a joke.

In the corner of your eye, just as you are laughing with Namjoon, you can faintly see the figure walking across the road, now passing you. It seems Namjoon’s idea worked. The ex doesn’t seem to have any intentions of talking to you and as a bonus, he looks unhappy at the sight of you with someone else. You moved on and now he knows you are happier than you used to be. Just the kind of closure you didn’t realise you needed.

Jin

The defensive boyfriend

As your best friend even before the two of you got together, Jin was always very protective of you. In fact, he was your ex boyfriend’s worst nightmare, not that the latter would have ever admitted that to you.

Your ex was… let’s say not the nicest of human beings in the world, and whenever an argument arose - usually caused by this ex - the subject of Seokjin would always arise. Constantly, you were accused of cheating on him with Jin or that you spent more time with Jin, and so on… You ultimately plucked up the courage to break up with him when Jin agreed to be present when you had the conversation to break things off.

Fast forward about 6 months and you’ve been together with Jin for about 2 months now after finally getting over the trauma you experienced and allowing yourself to think about other people in a romantic way.

But just as life for you finally seemed to be turning around, the sight of your ex really put a cramp on your day. There you were just minding your own business in the supermarket, and he just so happened to be shopping in the same place at the same time.

Immediately Jin notices who is nearby and wants to go up to him and tell him to leave you alone, but you insist that he doesn’t act rashly just incase the ex actually doesn’t even bat an eyelid at the sight of you two; for all you and Jin know, he could just honestly be shopping there and not around only to bother you. This could be a coincidence.

However, a few minutes after spotting him and when the two of you are browsing the veg aisle, really putting some thought into what you’d like to cook this week, you can’t shake this feeling that your ex is sort of… lingering… and it sends a unpleasant shiver down your spine, causing you to twitch.

Jin, sharp as ever, notices this sudden movement you make and your ex happens to catch his sight. He could have sworn he was there like 5 minutes ago. And there’s nothing in his basket STILL. What’s he playing at…?

You give Jin a look though, giving him the message that you don’t want any trouble and he nods to show that there won’t be any trouble. Instead, he just gives your ex a hard glare, giving the message without using words that he should probably stop this suspicious business. Jin would never let anything bad happen to you and it seems he warded away the ex boyfriend for the rest of your shopping trip, the rest of your day and hopefully the rest of your life.

Suga

He won’t give trouble as long as he doesn’t get trouble

You were a bit shook when you were out alone one day. You were just walking back home from a friend’s house when you saw your ex. Now, you weren’t sure if he had seen you, but just you seeing him was enough for you to feel like your lungs were about to go into overdrive.

Hands shaking, you reached into your pocket and hit Yoongi’s number, being sure to whisper as you tell him what’s going on.

“Hey, y/n! I was actually just about to...”

“Yoongs, he’s here” you tell him a little breathlessly

“Hey, hey, calm down and start over” he says, his voice having a bit of a soothing effect on you

“Okay, so you remember... do you remember when a while back, I told you that thing? The thing about my last relationship...” and you’re trying your absolute hardest to keep the breathing pattern regular

“Yeah, of course... what’s the matter?”

“Can you come meet me... please? Like could you just walk up the street as if we were walking up to [y/f/n]’s house?”

“Yeah, sure, sure... Is there any way of telling me what’s happened sweetie?”

“Um, yeah, I think... Um... Well, about what I just said....” You beat around the bush a little, worried that your ex might be within hearing distance. “About what I just said... I can see him; it’s him”

Yoongi immediately hangs up and pretty much races down the route you asked him to go to come find you.

To your relief, it only takes your boyfriend a matter of minutes to find you, now much calmer than you had sounded over the phone. It seems the ex was out of sight now and once you think about it a bit more rationally, you’re quite sure he didn’t see you anyway and you tell your boyfriend you feel silly for causing such a fuss.

Yoongi doesn’t mind though. He will always be there for you. Though Yoongi didn’t come across your ex this time, he imagines some scenarios in which he could just get the opportunity to talk to him. There’s questions. What is wrong with that brain of his? Did he consider therapy? How could he treat anyone like that let alone the wonderful being that is you?

And although no trouble happened in this situation, if there is ever a time this ex tries anything with you, Yoongi knows he will be there to defend you. If the ex is civil, Yoongi will be civil. If there’s trouble, then your ex will probably regret his actions.

J-Hope

“Nope, she’s not here...”

You had another bad nightmare again and had asked Hoseok to stay the night with you. Whilst it felt a bit odd roaming the streets at 1am, he didn’t mind coming to comfort you.

He let himself in with the key you gave him and everything felt great again. A sudden knock on the door makes you both jump and your boyfriend Hoseok offers to answer it for you because a) you’re still in a bit of shock about the dream and b) this is an odd time for someone to be knocking on your door...

Since you were both in your living room, you’re sat pretty close to the door, within hearing distance anyway. Your heart sinks when you hear the voice other than your boyfriends in conversation.

“Uh, oh, is y/n here?” you can hear him asking. You don’t believe it. You thought that was the end when you broke up ages ago and that he’d quit bothering you.

“Who’s asking?” replies Hoseok, being certain not to reveal anything too soon.

“I’m [your ex’s name]... I’m uh... a friend of hers...” 

Hoseok knew instantly who he was talking to as soon as he heard the name. Whilst the two had never met, you had recently opened up to Hoseok about your past.

“Y/n you say?” replies your boyfriend, playing dumb.

“Yeah, I...”

“Well, I don’t know if this y/n was nocturnal or something but she moved out. A couple of months ago... did she not tell you that as her friend?” he challenges but still pretending to be some unknowing tenant of the house.

“Oh, right...” sighs [your ex] unsure what his next move is. “Did she leave like any details of where she moved, like a place to forward her mail, or...?”

“Afraid not fella. Have a good night anyway” Hoseok tells him, warding him away now.

Shutting the door behind him and coming back into the living room, you can’t speak. All you can do is stare at your boyfriend in shock at the ex’s appearance and mouth ‘no fucking way’ and he can see the worry on your face. He instantly comes to cuddle you on the sofa as you get emotional but he reassures you that [your ex] won’t be bothering you anymore any time soon. After all, thanks to Hobi, your ex now believes you no longer live at the address he thought you did.

Jimin

It’s all about the future

Jimin hated to see you feeling this way. Worried, emotional, even scared. There were an increasing number of incidents in which you had passed your ex: the one that flipped your world upside down and took everything away from you that was in your personality - your confidence, your self-esteem, the lot.

You had started to get back on your feet but you couldn’t shirk the feeling that either you were being followed or there was these set of coincidences that meant you saw your ex at the local shop, the park, and on one occasion, work.

So Jimin made it his duty, his mission, to help you move on. He believed that your best defence against this situation, to ward this dude off, was to show him how happy you are now, or at least show you’ve moved on. Once your ex gets the message that you’re no longer available, he won’t be as interested in the idea of pursuing you, right?

Jimin starts by just taking you on days out just because, you know, to make new memories with him. Sometimes he takes you out of town and sometimes, he takes you to some of the places you went to with your ex but at first it’s only the places that don’t hold strong memories like that one takeaway down the road that you maybe went to twice ever or that one pet store you think you walked into once like a year ago.

Once he thinks you might be feeling more up to it, one day Jimin suggests you go to that park with him for a stroll. It’s a sunny day, you should go and appreciate the nature, but... you’re hesitant

“I don’t know Jimin, it’s just that last time I went there...”

“Exactly! The last time you went there. This time it will be us going there. I’m here for you...” he replies, coming in closer for a cuddle.

“I’m always here for you now he assures you, kissing your head.

V

Pulls you in closer

Okay I may or may not have sort of based it on this even if I wrote it like 3 years ago lmao (the post’s date is actually Feb 2017 woww)

You want to run out of the local convenience store as soon as you see your manipulative ex already in there as you enter with Taehyung. Your boyfriend keeps hold of the arm you have linked through his and you wonder why he is even making you stay.

“No, no, no, don’t worry sweetheart, you’ve got this. I’m here, yeah?”

He un-links his arm from yours and instead puts his arms around your waste, keeping you close. This both makes you feel a bit safer and gives your ex a stronger signal that you’re taken. 

With Tae’s confidence and smooth acting skills, you both manage to pretend you didn’t even see your ex and he’s none the wiser. But, just to be certain about the whole making it clear you moved on thing, whenever Tae thinks you’re both within hearing distance from your ex as you navigate the store to shop for essentials, he just makes little comments to sort of hint at the life you now have with him like

“What should we get in for dinner this evening?”

“Ah, I haven’t had this wine since we sat out in our back garden...”

Before you know it, your ex is out of sight, out of mind. Taehyung is all you need to focus on to make you feel better and to have a happier life with

Jungkook

Tells him to go away

One night, you and Jungkook were sat in watching a movie. You were waiting on the takeaway order of both your favourite pizza so you were listening out for the door.

You shoot up from the couch at the sound of the doorbell, open the door, and to your shock... there stands your ex with your order.

“Oh, um, hi...” you say.

“Yeah, hi...” he replies awkwardly

Worry fills you; you aren’t even sure you can recall your ex even mentioning a job like this. Granted, it’s been a long time but still...

“You alright?” he asks.

“Yep, great” you abruptly reply, not even caring to ask about him.

“So, it’s been a while...”

“Yep”

“Uh, can I come in?” he asks, really sending panic through your system.

“No, thank you!... Mr delivery guy” you boom, sort of being over the top in your state of panic.

Jungkook hears this from the other room and decides it’s been a while for the pizza delivery person to have only brought the pizza.

“Hello?” questions Jungkook, eyeing your ex up and down as he comes to the front entrance next to you.

“Oh, hello... I...”

Something in Jungkook just sparks because he knows exactly who this dude is as you all went to the same school together.

“Listen mate, thanks for the pizza, now I think you have better things to be doing now than harassing my girlfriend...”

“I wasn’t harassing, I was just...”

“Come on, what sort of pizza man asks to come in? No. They give the pizza,get paid and leave. We have the pizza” Jungkook tells him crossing his arms. “Now leave.” 

Your ex tries to as about the payment part but Jungkook is one step ahead “And since I’m sure you wouldn’t want your boss to know about this incident... let’s say this one’s on the house, yeah?”

You were amazed at how confident your boyfriend had suddenly become all because of this situation. Usually he was so shy, never dared even speak a bad word about his older friends.

The ex admits defeat, albeit in a huff, and walks away, allowing you to finally shut the door.

“Wow, Jungkook, that was...”

“Yeah, I don’t know what happened” he laughs nervously. “I guess it was just not seeing him after all this time and I guess I didn’t realise just how angry I was about the way he treated you, and...”

“Kookie, there’s no need to say anything. Thank you”

He never really realised he had it in him, but now he knows... he really can and will protect you.

***

I don’t know why but I felt like I needed to write about this; I think it’s just that with lock down and all that, my mind sort of casts back to weird, bad and confusing times in my life because I guess I’ve been left alone a lot with my own thoughts and then there’s the bad dreams which don’t help, and sorry that’s really enough about me, I just thought I’d explain in case anyone was wondering why I would want to make this kind of piece. Also I guess I have less angsty stuff on my blog because of all the fluff and more so the smut I wrote over the years lmao

[atlas-tries]

Shatter Me Chapter 4: Patton Quest

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Summary: The worst has come to pass. What will the main three (and Janus) do without Patton?

Notes: Well! Maybe things will be looking up for the sides! Maybe! This is quite the lengthy chapter, so I hope you all enjoy! (And yes, I realize this is coming a little earlier today than normal, but alas, what is life without at least one chapter of whimsy?)

Virgil didn’t dare move from where he stood, once cradling Patton’s head. Now, there was barely a sign that he’d ever been there, only weeping shards left in his wake. It was starting to soak into Virgil’s pants and hoodie sleeves, but he didn’t notice. All he could see was the sinister blue covering the table and flowing onto the floor. His heart exploded in his ears, nearly deafening in the silence that gripped them.

It was kind of funny, really. Virgil had such a penchant for being wrong when he got into one of his moods. So why was it that the one time he wanted so desperately to be wrong, he wasn’t? One of his worst fears had come true and he’d been powerless to stop it. The universe could be so cruel.

“P-Patton… wh-why did it have to be Patton, of all sides?” Roman softly sobbed. He still held on to the splintered fragments of Patton’s hand.

Logan wiped at his eyes with his shirtsleeve and readjusted his glasses. Blue fingerprints lingered on the frames. “There was nothing else we could’ve done.”

Virgil swallowed thickly. “Wh-why was he so afraid to talk to us about this?” he asked.

Roman puffed up. “He wasn’t! How dare you even suggest that we were the ones to put him into this situation!” he cried, tears mixing with the puddles of bright blue. Logan put a firm hand on his shoulder and for once in his life, Roman backed off.

“Alright, Sir Jumps-a-lot,” Virgil started, but was caught off guard by a little golden orb floating through the window. “Is … is that a thought?” Two more rose from where Patton had been sitting. They drifted closer to the center of the table where Patton’s shards still rested. Once over him, they simply hovered, absorbing the blue essence beneath them. “What are they doing?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen this happen before,” Roman replied, transfixed on the sight of the thoughts.

All at once, they became restless, boiling rapidly beneath the surface and madly flitting around the room like three loose Golden Snitches. “Hit the decks!” Roman cried, taking cover beneath the table. Virgil followed.

One just missed Logan before he dropped beneath the table. They grew and quickened, slamming into the walls with deafening shrieks. The castle shook with every blow. “Oh God oh God oh God,” Virgil mumbled under his breath, like praying would send these abominations away.

A huge crash sent rocky shrapnel flying in every direction. Virgil felt the impact of several smaller pebbles against his body. Then it was quiet. Virgil finally uncovered his head after a few seconds and looked around. Giant bus sized holes gaped fervently on three walls, like the castle itself was crying out. Pieces of elegant stonework laid broken on the ground amid the tattered ruins of some of Roman’s finest tapestries. Dust lingered in the air.

“Are you all unharmed?” came Logan’s voice.

Virgil nodded, still in awe of the destruction that lay around them.

Roman looked devastated. “I’m fine, but look what those boorish orbs did to my precious palace! What were those things?” He walked over to one of the holes and put his hand on the edge of it. Almost as soon as his hand hit, he jerked it back with a hiss.

“They were thoughts,” Logan started, walking over to Roman with a small first aid kit in hand, “that appeared to have absorbed Patton’s essence.”

“… And?” Virgil asked.

Logan rubbed some burn ointment onto Roman’s hand and began to bandage it. “Those thoughts appear to have his power. If they were troublesome before, then that must mean—”

“They intend to wreak havoc here, too,” Roman interrupted.

Logan cleared his throat. “Yes. But I wonder … Could they bring him back?”

Virgil’s and Roman’s eyes went wide. “You really think those things out there are the key to reviving Patton? They’re monsters! Patton isn’t a monster!” Virgil bit.

“That wasn’t what I was implying. Those thoughts acted rashly when exposed to his essence because Patton was in a state of turmoil before he … Didn’t you notice that when you touched it, you began to feel things you didn’t normally feel?” said Logan.

“Well yeah, but aren’t people supposed to be sad when they lose someone they l … care about?” Virgil asked.

“Nice save,” said Roman.

“In people, yes, but we are not people. We are facets of a whole personality, hence we cannot take many intricacies from another side without some sort of medium, which brings me back to the point. If Patton’s stray thoughts have enough of his essence within them, then perhaps they are enough to resurrect him,” Logan explained.

“What other choice do we have?” asked Roman. “We can’t just let those rogue ruminations run rampant through the realm.”

“Then it’s settled. We must go after these manifestations with due haste,” Logan said. “Perhaps it would be better to each take on one of these creatures. If my calculations are correct, we don’t have long to get them back before they become inert. Although it would make my job easier if we didn’t have to worry about trivial emotions getting in the way … But I certainly don’t want to pick up the slack from Patton’s absence.”

“How can you even say that? Are you sure you’re not a dark side in disguise?” Virgil said, running his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh. “Not the time, Virgil. Okay. How do you know we’re on a time limit? And how are we supposed to fight these thoughts?”

“Simple mathematics. It took nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds for the essence on my hands to stop affecting me in a way that hindered me. As for how to go about defeating them, I suspect Roman may be able to help,” said Logan.

“Oh sure, you didn’t want to help me earlier but now I have to help you. Pah!” Roman said, throwing his hands in the air. Instantly, both Logan and Virgil were donning jester’s costumes with squeaky swords at their sides while Roman was decked out in full chainmail armor.

Virgil gave an indignant look to Roman, who was snickering at his handiwork. “You can’t seriously expect us to go up against those with these,” he spat, motioning to his novelty weapon.

“Virgil is right. We wouldn’t be able to fight effectively with this,” Logan said. “We will also need a way to transport the creatures back, but I may have a solution for that.” He conjured up three small glass jars.

“Ugh, fine,” Roman groaned. He waved his hand and the two were changed into more fitting clothes: a rogue outfit and dagger for Virgil and for Logan, wizard’s robes and a magic staff. “Better?”

Virgil, who had been covertly admiring his garb, put one hand behind his head and said, “It’s alright I guess.”

“This is adequate. Now, we have exactly three hours, fifty-eight minutes, and twenty seconds to bring these thoughts back before his essence leaves them,” Logan said, waving his hand and conjuring a countdown timer for all of them.

“Then what are we waiting for?” asked Virgil.

Roman nodded. “Let’s get this pony rolling!”

“I’m sorry, there are ponies involved? That would be a much faster method of travel than walking,” Logan pointed out.

Roman almost countered that, but took a moment to think. “You’re right,” he said, conjuring some horses. “Now let’s go!”

With that, the sides mounted their horses with varying degrees of difficulty and set off in three separate directions.

---

Roman was usually so happy to be riding in the Imagination. Nothing beat the feeling of the wind through his hair, or the steady bouncing of the horse’s gait, or the rhythmic pounding of hooves on the ground.

But this time, he could find no joy atop his trusty mount. Not with his thoughts racing faster.

Instead, he kept his body poised like a jockey and let the horse do the work. She always knew where he needed to go. Thankfully, the path was a little easier to see since one of the loose Eldritch abominations carved its way through the lush evergreen forests. He still couldn’t believe any of this was real. Not even an hour ago, they had all been sitting around the Round Table, poised to discuss video ideas. Now, they were all on a life-or-continued-death quest to stop Patton’s thoughts from destroying everything in enough time to revive him. Even he thought that plotline was a bit contrived. Nevertheless, here he rode, off to accomplish the task at hand like the hero Patton believed him to be.

A flash of blue whizzed by in Roman’s periphery. He pulled the reins hard and wheeled his horse around. Another subtle movement shuffled in the undergrowth to his right. He dismounted as quietly as he could and drew his sword. The leaves rustled again. He slowly stalked toward them, ready to pounce. Suddenly, a blue toad jumped out from the foliage and onto Roman’s chest briefly before saying, “Tag, you’re it!” and hopping quickly away.

Roman blinked. “Well that’s new,” he mumbled to himself. He sheathed his sword and looked at the toad, still hopping away. It slowed, turned around, and stared for a moment before hopping back toward Roman.

“Aren’t you gonna chase me?” it asked from a distance. That voice sounded so familiar …

“I’m sorry, fair frog, but I can’t play with you. I’m on an urgent quest to find a rampaging beast. You haven’t happened to see one around here, have you?” said Roman.

The toad brought one little arm up to its chin in thought. “Hmm, I don’t think I’ve seen one around here …” Its eyes shone. “Oh, a quest! Can I come with you? It sounds so much more fun than playing tag with myself! Please please pleeeeeeeease!” it said, bouncing in place.

Roman, understandably, was a little put-off by this toad. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. You’re much too small to fight, and this may be the most difficult quest I will ever go on.” He made his way back to his horse. The toad followed.

“Please? I promise I won’t get in the way!” said the toad, clinging to Roman’s boot with tears in its eyes.

Roman sighed. “Fine, but you stay in the saddlebag,” he huffed.

The toad binkied happily in little circles. “Yay! We’re going on a quest! We’re going on a quest! I don’t know what we’ll do but hey, we’ll make up all the rest!” it sang. It leapt into Roman’s arms. “Onward to adventure!” It pointed an arm out in front of them.

“Yeah,” Roman said, stuffing the toad in his saddlebag with much protest. He pulled the countdown timer out of the bag on his belt. 03:01:42. Had he already been gone for this long? He stuffed it back in and hoisted himself onto the saddle.

Or rather, he would have if there weren’t a troublesome toad sitting there already. “Woooaah, is this what it’s like to be a horseback rider? How do I make it go?” it gleamed. It tried to whip the reins but could barely lift them without toppling over.

“Hold on a minute. You don’t make it go anywhere,” Roman said, lifting the toad off the saddle and putting it back in the saddlebag. “I do.” He tried to mount once more to find the toad sitting on top of the horse’s head. “What the …! How do you keep doing that?” He grabbed the frog again and put him back in the saddlebag, making sure to fasten it this time.

Yet again, the toad appeared before him, this time sitting on the horse’s neck. “Doing what?” it innocently asked. And yet again, Roman turned to stuff the toad back in, only to find three others already in there.

“What in the name of accumulating amphibians is going on here?!” Roman shouted. “Why are there four of you?!”

“Huh? Oh, there aren’t four of me!” As if to illustrate his point, hundreds of blue toads emerged from hiding all around them. “It would get pretty boring if I was playing tag with only four of me!” One of them hopped on top of Roman’s head.

“Alright, enough! Only one of you can come with me,” Roman said.

The toads just smiled. “Well why didn’t you say so?” All of them but the one on his head disappeared into mist, and the one that remained almost glowed. “Onward to adventure!” the toad cried again. Roman just put his head in his hands with a small groan.

The two were off and at a full gallop through the razed forest. About five seconds down the road, the toad said, “You wanna play I Spy? I do! I’ll go first! I spy with my little eye, something … red!”

“I really can’t play this right now, we need to be on the lookout for a rampaging monster,” Roman replied.

“Aww come on, this is an easy one, I know you can get it!”

“Not now.”

The toad huffed. “Well you’re no fun. What kind of adventure is this anyway?”

“Not the fun kind,” Roman said. “We’re running out of time.”

“Pssshhh, no we’re not. There’s always time for fun!” the toad exclaimed.

Roman grunted. “What part of urgent quest did you not understand? We only have so long to bring him back! Now please, make yourself useful and help me look for a rampaging beast.”

“Bring who back?” the toad asked. Roman stayed silent for a long while. “Didja hear me?”

“A very close friend of mine,” Roman finally replied.

“Oh,” said the toad. “So your friend is the monster?”

“No! Yes? I don’t know. It’s hard to explain,” Roman said, getting more agitated with each passing second.

The toad stayed silent for a good moment. “What’s your friend’s name? Maybe I heard of ‘em,” said the toad.

“Patton,” came Roman’s solemn reply.

“Hey, that kinda sounds like my name!” squealed the toad.

“Oh?” said Roman. The edge of the path quickly approached. “Wait, this is where the destruction ends, he should be right here!” He tugged on the reins and dismounted quickly. The toad hopped to the ground.

“Hey, I think I remember something about this place,” it said.

Roman turned and squatted in front of the toad. “Tell me.”

The toad hopped in place. “This is where I first started playing tag with myself! There were so many more of me then … Maybe some of them are still hiding! Will you help me look?” he asked.

Roman huffed. “I have to find whatever cantankerous creature came this far, so I don’t have time to be playing around!”

The toad recoiled. “Wh-why are you yelling at me?” he whined, huge tears welling up in his eyes. His color dimmed a bit.

Roman put a hand against his cheek, tugging at his bottom eyelid. Why did this have to be happening to him now of all times? “Look, I’m sorry, little, uh … what did you say your name was again?”

The toad sniffled and wiped at his cheek. “L-Lilypadton,” he replied.

“Okay, I’m sorry, Lilypadton, but I just don’t have the time to—” Roman paused. “Wait a moment. Lilypadton. Lily-padton. Lily-Patton.” His eyes lit up. “By the horn of a unicorn! I’m surprised I didn’t think of this before!” He picked the blubbering toad up. “You’re the one I’ve been looking for!”

“I-I am?” Lilypadton asked.

Roman nodded, his own eyes shimmering a little. “Indeed. I didn’t expect a rampaging thought could turn into such a … tiny creature as yourself. From the way you cut down all of these trees, I thought you’d have been a bit bigger. But uh, no matter! You’re going to help me bring my friend back!” He hugged Lilypadton tight to his armor.

“Mister, you’re choking me!” Lilypadton croaked.

Roman immediately loosened his grip. “Sorry, I got a little carried away for a moment there. Let’s get you back to my castle with haste!” He put Lilypadton on his shoulder and climbed back on his horse, and instantly the horse went into a full gallop. The poor Pat-toad hung on to Roman’s pauldron for dear life.

Around ten minutes down the road, once Lilypadton had settled on the saddle horn, he suddenly spoke. “Did … did I do all of this?”

Roman looked down at him. “Yes, but I don’t think you meant to,” he said, bringing his gaze back up to the road.

“I think I remember something else,” Lilypadton softly said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. We were in here somewhere. I … was taller. Like you! I saw you, too. You were so brave fighting that big scary lion snake goat thingy! But then you got hurt, and it was all because of me wanting to save that poor bunny, and I didn’t ever want you to get hurt but you did and if I hadn’t been so trusting and just done what you said in the first place, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt and it wouldn’t have been my fault.” Lilypadton dimmed a little more. “B-but then you said, ‘I can’t believe you fell for that obvious trap, Patton. Didn’t you notice the footprints on the ground near it or the horrible stench coming from just behind the trees? It really surprises me, the way you can be so naive sometimes.’ And then, I felt my chest hurting real bad.”

Roman looked again at the little toad, wide-eyed and near frozen. He still had the little scar on his arm from the chimera’s attack, barely worth mentioning against the numerous others he had accumulated from other, more dangerous creatures. What startled him was hearing Patton’s perspective of this.

Lilypadton flopped against Roman’s breastplate. “I-I’m so sorry,” he whimpered.

Roman banished his chainmail and put a hand on Lilypadton’s back, pressing him gently into his chest. “You were holding onto that this whole time. And all because I made a stupid, offhand comment,” he said, hooking the reins around the saddle horn and holding his face in his newly freed hand. Fresh tears streaked over his gauntlets. Hadn’t there been enough crying for one day?

He continued. “Padre, please believe me when I tell you that I, in no way, hold that day against you. I shouldn’t have said what I said, because that’s not what I think of you at all. That day, I was so impressed that you wanted to help that slovenly little lapin, despite me telling you that you didn’t have to. And then you showed me how brave you were, still helping that creature while that chimera roared at you. I still remember you telling it, ‘Now you just wait your turn, mister, I’ll pet you in a minute!’ It was one of the greatest adventures I’d ever had with you.” He stroked the little toad. Lilypadton croaked softly against his chest. “Had I known that my careless comment was something that led to you being in this state, I would have washed my own mouth out with soap. I should be the one apologizing to you, Patton.”

Lilypadton smiled, eyes still brimming with tears. “Thank you, Roman,” he said, burrowing closer like a small child being held. Roman just smiled and rubbed Lilypadton’s little back, content to have not only found this toad in the first place, but a piece of Patton that he never knew before. Roman’s palace loomed in the distance. It wouldn’t be long before the two reached the remains of Patton prime.

Roman felt Lilypadton slowly transform in his hand, now nothing but a bright blue thought.

---

Logan, though not as well versed in the equine arts as Roman, found himself to be a natural when behind the reins of a beautiful, sure-footed Paso Fino. What wasn’t natural, however, was trying to do that while wearing a star-spangled bathrobe. Eventually, he’d had to stop his horse, conjure a hair tie, and bunch the loose fabric between his legs like a bike-riding lady in the 1890’s. “How asinine,” he mumbled to himself as he followed the river south.

If his calculations were correct, then he had approximately three hours and twenty-two minutes to find this troublesome thought and bring it back. In the distance, he could see storm clouds brewing over one particular location three klicks ahead of him. So, about another half hour before he would be there. Great.

Part of Logan felt heavy. The other half felt like nothing at all. All he knew was that the essence crusting on his hands had something to do with how he was experiencing these feelings. Much to his chagrin, Logan did, in fact, have feelings. Just never to the extremes that Patton did. And before, standing over Patton’s bleeding form and covered in essence, those emotions were nearly enough to knock him off of his feet. He had frozen. The one minute he needed to be the dependable one, he had frozen. He had no idea what to do to save him, and he’d shattered right in front of them. And now, he could only hope that his working theory was correct.

Logan gripped the reins tighter, whipping them with a sharp, “Hyah!” The horse promptly obeyed and quickened its pace. He was getting close to the epicenter of the clouds. A small streak of blue quickly differentiated itself from the surrounding landscape. Could that be …

Within seconds, Logan had arrived as close to the entity as he felt comfortable and hid among the tall grasses. It had a vaguely humanoid shape with two large, white eyes, blurring through the breeze as if it were immaterial. He heard its singsong voice gently wafting over, sweet and soft against the stark, grassy landscape. Birds and other small animals gathered around it in Disney Princess fashion. Its voice rose and with it, the wind did, too. Dried leaves and loose grass circled around them.

“An elemental …” Logan whispered. The wind died. The elemental whipped its head around to look directly at Logan. His heart hammered in his chest.

“WHO’S THERE?” it boomed. Logan nestled deeper into the grasses. “HMM, PEACH, PEAR—”

“Pineapple,” Logan inadvertently replied. He slapped a hand over his mouth. Suddenly, the wind was beneath him, hoisting him swiftly over to where the elemental hovered. Logan fumbled with the strap keeping his magic staff secured but couldn’t free it before he came to sit in front of this creature.

“I THOUght I heard someone over there. Oh, I’m sorry if I scared you, kiddo, I’m not going to hurt you! Here, let me help you up,” it said. It extended what Logan thought to be an arm toward him. Logan gingerly put his hand out, expecting to pass right through, but the elemental felt solid beneath his touch. “Do you have a name I can call you?”

“Um … Logan,” he responded.

“Logan … what a nice name. I think I used to know someone with that name. Maybe one of my kiddos?”

Logan tapped his chin. “You don’t sound like any elemental I’ve ever encountered before.”

“Elemental? Oh, no, not me. I’m just Sympathos,” Sympathos said.

All of the sudden, it hit Logan. “No wonder you sound so familiar. I believe I know who you are. Please come with me.”

“What’s that, on your hands …?” Sympathos asked warily. The wind picked up a little bit.

“It’s essence. Your essence, Patton,” Logan stated matter-of-factly. “Please, time is against us. We must return to Roman’s castle before it’s too late.”

Sympathos backed away. “M-my essence? And who’s Patton? I think I’d better stay here.” A particularly cold gust of wind whipped by them.

“You’re Patton. Or, a part of him, rather; one that’s doomed to fade in less than three hours unless you rejoin with your other pieces. Wouldn’t it be better to become whole again?”

Sympathos shrunk. “No, no, I … I don’t think I want to go with you,” he said. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not him. I … I can’t be him!” The wind picked up a bit more.

Logan had to hold onto his hat to keep it from sailing away. “Please calm down,” he said, slowly striding toward Sympathos with his hands up. Sympathos only backed away further. “You’re being irrational.”

The wind died once more, leaving only a deathly quiet over them. Sympathos brought his hands to his face. “No. I’m. NOT!” he shouted, rising up in a tornado’s winds and growing just as big. Hail began falling thunderously around Logan. He shielded himself as best he could with his arm, attempting to once again release his staff from its prison on his back. He finally got it and quickly cast a shielding spell around himself. Sympathos continued. “WHY IS IT IRRATIONAL TO NOT WANT TO GO WITH SOMEONE WHO HAS A PART OF ME SMEARED ALL OVER THEIR HANDS? WHY CAN I NOT BE AFRAID OF SOMEONE WHO HURT ME?”

Logan could only look up at the angry funnel cloud version of his friend. “Hurt you?” he yelled through the noise. “This essence on my hands was from trying to save you! Do you not remember?”

The winds roared. “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT. THAT’S NOt what I meant,” Sympathos said, dying down into little more than a breeze. The hail turned into tiny raindrops, slowly getting bigger as he wept.

Logan dismissed most of the shielding spell, leaving only a portion above his head. He slowly walked over toward where Sympathos was crumpled on the ground. Every raindrop sent little bits of him rippling across his surface as if he, too, were made of water. “Then, would you tell me what has you so disconcerted?” Logan gently asked. He sat down beside the entity, expanding the shield to cover Sympathos from the cloudburst.

Sympathos said nothing for a while, but Logan was more than keen to wait. He still had enough time to get him back, and he didn’t want to have to hurt the thought any more than he somehow already had. Finally, Sympathos spoke, “I’m not Patton. I know I’m not. But, I have his memories. His thoughts. His pain. I saw you in almost all of the memories. Especially the ones where you would tell me, ‘Your feelings are clouding your judgement,’ or something like that. Then I would feel this … this awful pain in my core.” He looked up at Logan. “How can I still have the pain that he had but have no way to know how to deal with it? How can I trust you when all I have are these aching memories?” The rain worsened as Sympathos sobbed.

Logan didn’t quite know what to do. Had he hurt Patton without ever knowing it? Or had he been too blinded by his own emotions to notice? He thought back to a few months ago, when Patton had first revealed his injuries. They were so profound then, like they had been less than an hour ago at the Round Table. Wait, right after he told Patton to let the past go, those injuries worsened. How many other times had his input splintered across Patton’s chest? He had to make this right. He put one gentle hand on Sympathos’s back.

“I … don’t think it would be reasonable, not after having experienced such pain by my own hand,” Logan carefully said. “I never intended to harm you, but whether I meant it or not is inconsequential to the truth of it. I still hurt you. And for that, I am truly, deeply sorry. I just wish I’d have known about your condition sooner so I could have made amends sooner. Maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess if only I’d noticed sooner …” He felt a tear of his own threatening to leak out.

Sympathos looked up at him. Bittersweet laughter emanated from him, piercing through the rain in matching melancholy. “How could you have known what I never said?” He sat up as much as a spectral entity could and leaned against Logan. “I forgive you. Maybe it’s time I started trusting you all more.”

Logan smiled a bit and the tears silently rolled. “I’d like that,” he said softly. Logan wasn’t used to dealing with emotions; that much went without saying. But maybe it was time to try, if for nothing— or no one— else but Patton.

After another moment, the weight against his side faded and only a floating blue orb remained. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he retrieved the jar from where it hung on his belt and gently guided the thought in. Here, at least, he would be safe until it was time to reunite with the other pieces.

As Logan remounted his horse, he noticed the rain had stopped and in its wake, a tiny rainbow appeared.

---

Virgil swore to himself that after today, he would never, EVER, get back on a horse.

It was too hard to get on the stupid thing for one. For another, there were no visible controls. He had no idea how this beast even knew what to do, and what it did was try to take off with Virgil hanging off its side. Probably Roman’s idea of a joke. Again. Now, the ride was hurting his butt. He failed to see how his day could get any worse— a hard-earned feat from a side such as himself.

Now here he was, holding onto this animal for dear life as it clattered up the mountain paths, thinking of all the ways this would fail, all the ways he could plummet to his own death, and they’d have to come up with some horribly saccharine double funeral for him and Patton, or maybe they would just completely forget about him or disown him because he failed—

Without warning, the horse reared, sending Virgil flying into some nearby brush. The horse ran off, evident only by the disappearing sound of hoofbeats. For a while, Virgil just laid there, staring up at the canopy above him. Stupid horse. I didn’t want to ride you anyway, he wanted to say. “Today really isn’t my day,” is what came out. He slowly started getting up, hands hurting from where he pushed into the ragged undergrowth. At least everything matched now.

He looked at the path ahead. A huge earthen wall blocked most of the path. “What the— when did that get there?” Virgil said. He eyed it warily. It seemed stable enough … Maybe he could climb over to the other side? He touched it with his dagger. The blade pierced through easily, yet the wall still held. Still, there was no way he was going to scale this monstrosity, not without at least twenty different safety lines and a helmet. And anyway, it wasn’t like he couldn’t just walk around it. So he did.

And immediately regretted it.

A gargantuan, blue-furred bear loped on the other side, coming to stand on its hind legs. That thing had to be at least twelve feet tall! A small, “eek!” escaped Virgil’s lips as he moved to hide back behind the wall. Maybe the bear hadn’t seen him. All at once, the wall crumbled into dust, leaving Virgil facing away from a fearsome predator. He slowly turned his head to see the bear looking straight at him. With wide eyes, he slowly turned back and bolted back down the mountain.

Virgil checked behind him. Of course the bear was galloping after him. “Crap crap crap crap!” he wheezed, willing his legs to go faster. The bear was gaining on him. Think, Virgil, think! What would Roman do? I can’t believe I just asked myself that. Uh, trees! Bears can’t climb trees, right?

Virgil leapt onto the nearest tree and scrambled up the trunk as best he could. Which is to say, not very well. Still, it was enough to confuse the bear, which bought him a little extra time to climb. The bear stood on its hind legs and started climbing after him. “Oh, come on!” Virgil cried, inching out onto a sturdy looking branch.

The bear, barely needing to get off the ground to reach Virgil, grabbed his hood in its mouth and tugged. Virgil clung tighter to the branch. The bear kept tugging and Virgil could hear wood splintering. “Oh God oh God oh God this is it. This is how I go.” The branch broke with a sharp crack, leaving him dangling from the bear’s mouth. He released the branch and felt around his belt for his dagger. Anxious fingers slipped over the scabbard. Eventually, he freed it and started swinging wildly until the blade found purchase.

He opened his eyes and surveyed his damage. The dagger caught on the bear’s thick pelt as if it were a stick. The bear whined a little but was otherwise unharmed. It nudged the blade away from where it struck, stood on two legs, and released Virgil’s hood.

Virgil fully expected to hit the hard ground. He had seen it coming. But he didn’t even make it down past the bear’s legs. The bear was … holding him. Like a baby. And nuzzling him with a big, wet nose, making contented vocalizations. Was it … loving on him?

No fall. No get hurt.

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Y-you’re telepathic?”

The bear licked his cheek gently and looked into his eyes. I talk you only way I know. I keep you safe. The bear started walking back up the mountain, still carrying Virgil in his arms.

“What are you?” Virgil asked.

Pattington, came the bear’s reply.

“Where are you taking me?” asked Virgil.

Burrow. I keep you safe. I love like own cub.

All too soon, the two were in a clearing off the side of the path. At least, it used to be a clearing. There had to be hundreds of birdhouses in the trees and little bunny burrows dotting the cliffs. Deer, squirrels, and rabbits scampered freely in the clearing without worrying that the bear— Pattington— would hurt them. He lowered Virgil gently to the ground.

You play other cubs. I get dinner, said Pattington with one last nuzzle against Virgil. He sank back onto four paws and roamed toward the edge of the clearing.

Virgil was so struck by this odd behavior that he almost let him go. “Wait!” he called, running after him. Pattington looked back. “Um, I can’t stay. I’m kind of looking for something. Or uh, someone. It’s a little hard to tell.”

The bear stopped. Cub stay. Cub safe here. He put a gentle paw against Virgil’s chest and disappeared into the forest.

Virgil stood there for a moment. Was this bear trying to adopt him? He did not have time for this, not with a giant raging orb to be found! Frantically, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the timer Logan gave him. 3:10:48. There was still the greater part of three hours, but that meant nothing. If Virgil let himself go along with what this bear wanted, then Patton would never be able to come back. Now seemed like as good a time as any to get the heck away from here.

Virgil clambered through the small bit of forest between him and the path. He started walking up through where the orb had clearly razed. It didn’t take long to find its destination. A giant indentation in the mountain gave its secrets away. That much, at least, Virgil expected. What he didn’t expect was to find a slightly smaller bear shaped depression nested in the larger one. On the ground beneath them lay huge paw prints that faded as they got closer to the burrow.

Wait. That bear. He had blue fur. And was very snuggly. And very overprotective. And had a pun-filled name.

“Patton?”

As if summoned by hearing his true name, Pattington appeared behind Virgil. Cub, why wander from burrow?

Virgil could hardly believe it. Patton was here the whole time! “Pat … I was looking for you,” Virgil said, happy tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Why cub cry? Pattington not go far, Pattington said, approaching Virgil. Virgil closed the gap between them and clung to Patton’s neck, sobbing into his soft fur.

“I was so scared … I thought I’d never find you after y-you died in my arms … But now I can bring you back!” Virgil cried.

Me no go. You stay. Let me love you forever. The bear sat back and hugged Virgil to his chest.

Virgil pushed back a little, just enough to look into Pattington’s eyes. “But all of that can happen when you’re you again! There’s no reason why it can’t! Please, you have to come with me!”

Virgil not like my affection in Patton-form. Pattington different, Pattington keened mournfully.

Very few things caught Virgil off guard, but boy, if this didn’t completely knock him to the ground. “What are you talking about?” asked Virgil a little frantically.

Pattington put his forehead against Virgil’s. Frenzied images flashed before his eyes.

He saw himself through Patton’s eyes. They both were in their old clothes. They had just finished watching a movie or something and sat talking in Virgil’s room. It was getting close to the end of their visit. Patton went in for a hug and Virgil backed off. “Woah, what are you doing?” past Virgil asked.

“Oh, I um, I thought that since we’ve been getting so close …” Patton’s voice trailing off. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!”

“No no, it’s fine, just uh … warn me first,” past Virgil replied. He opened his arms a little, and Patton took that opening. And goodness, Virgil could feel his satisfaction.

The images shifted into a later instance. Patton was having a rough day. Despite it, he still made time to go to Virgil’s room for their weekly get-together. Roman and Logan had apparently been arguing or snooping or something; that part Virgil couldn’t tell. The two munched on warm cookies and milk while some Disney movie played on Virgil’s TV. Patton leaned against Virgil as the movie played. Virgil just sat there. All of the sudden, Virgil began shuddering against Patton. He looked to Virgil, who appeared to be hyperventilating.

Patton sat back up. “Virgil?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

Virgil looked at him and started calming down. “Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he shakily replied. “Kinda glad to be able to move again. This might be too much stimulation for one night.”

“Oh,” he softly said. And goodness, Virgil could feel the pain in Patton’s chest.

Virgil was snapped back to the mountainous forest, those memories still searing in his skull. Pattington softly whined in front of him. Pattington too much. Too much for Virgil to bear.

So that’s what it was. “Pat, I … you’ve got it all wrong,” Virgil started. “Sure, you can be very … touchy. Sometimes a little too much for me to understand. But you have to understand that I don’t think you’re too much. A Patton hug is one of the best things to have right after a panic attack or when I’m down! Those casual little touches help to ground me. It just startled me when you went for it right away that first time. And that panic attack that you saw … I wasn’t overstimulated because of you.

“We were watching Cinderella that night. It got me thinking that maybe we had missed our chance to fix things with our ex, and we would never find love again. If anything, your presence there helped me get my thoughts back under control.” Virgil held Pattington’s paw in his hands. “So please … Please come back with me. I … I want Patton back. I need Patton back.”

Pattington’s eyes shone with fresh tears. With one last nuzzle, Pattington said, Thank you. I love you, Virgil, and morphed back into a tiny blue sphere. Virgil got the jar from his belt, very gently enclosing the thought within it.

“I love you too, Dad.”

Taglist: @celeste-tyrrell @taxicabinmemphis @angeldiaries @somehow-i-got-an-account @kawaiikat54 @rainy-days-and-the-fae

[badgersprite]

Fic: Desiderata (5/?)

Chapter Title: Perspective

Fandom: Mass Effect

Characters: Miranda, Samara, Oriana, Jacob

Pairing: Miranda/Samara very slow burn, friends to lovers

Story Rating: R

Warnings: References to past childhood abuse/trauma, and people being shitty about it.

Chapter Summary: In 2186, Miranda spearheads the search and rescue operation she helped organise. In 2185, Samara gets Miranda to see an incident from someone else’s perspective.

Author’s Note: Miranda is still bad at people, but she’s trying. Shout out to self-isolation for giving me time to work on this.

*    *     *

“You’re sure this will work?” Miranda asked, examining her forged identity documents. A passport. A driver's licence. Even a birth certificate.

“Can’t be any surer than I am,” Niket answered with a slight shrug. “It’s not like I could test it, but I have nothing but assurances from everyone I’ve spoken to that these counterfeits are the highest quality. They never fail.”

“What if they do?” Miranda had imagined a hundred different ways her father might deal with them if they got caught. She still wasn't sure which one was the worst, or that he couldn't exceed her expectations of his cruelty.

“Relax.” Niket placed his hands on her shoulders. “Even if they do pull you up, I've spent months creating an online identity for you. The only thing left is to set up an account and wire some money into it. Enough to keep you on your feet for a while. We've thought of everything, Miri. You won't trigger any red flags. As far as anyone would be concerned, 'Jessica McMahon' is a real person.”

Miranda sighed uneasily. She’d been working on this escape for so long that it was making her paranoid. No matter how careful she was, it was simply impossible for her father not to notice what was going on, given enough time. For all his faults, he was a smart man. He had to sense something was awry, at some point. It always felt like she was moments away from her plot being uncovered.

“Are you forgetting something?” Niket remarked, expectantly waiting for her to say her thanks. To her credit, Miranda realised her oversight.

“You’ve done a lot for me, Niket. When I’m out of here, I won’t forget that,” she said sincerely. Niket was the closest thing to a friend she'd ever had. She was grateful towards him. She really was. She just wasn’t fantastic at expressing it. Her upbringing might have played a role in that.

“You’ve already helped, in a way,” Niket admitted, taking out another passport. “Got one of these for myself with your money. Figured I’d involved myself enough that I’m going to have to get out of dodge once you make your escape, or else your father’s going to find my fingerprints all over this.”

“Good idea.” Miranda nodded, signalling her approval, glad he’d protected himself. Besides, she didn’t give a damn about her father’s money. He had plenty.

Being the daughter of an extremely rich man did have its benefits. As part of her preparations, Miranda had been able to casually drop a few thousand dollars at a time here and there without raising suspicion.

There was no mistake about it, though - the money he gave Miranda to spend was a symbol of his own vanity, not a kindness. She was his daughter. That meant she had to fit a certain image, or it would reflect poorly on him. She had to indulge in expensive tastes, dress well, buy and read rare books, play music on the most expensive piano, or else people might not be impressed by how inordinately wealthy he was.

He framed it like a reward for living up to his impossible standards, but really it was another means of controlling her. Miranda had no freedom in what she spent money on. It was a test. He’d only given her access to her own money so that he could see for himself how well he’d trained her - to prove that his little experiment would continue acting in accordance with his designs and his preferences even when he wasn’t watching her over her shoulder.

But he’d underestimated her. Her father always had. As long as she remembered to keep her stories consistent with the fake transactions on the bills, he would never suspect anything, even if he was secretly going through her spending with a fine tooth-comb, which he did, of course. Provided that she appeared to be spending money on purchases he approved of, he wouldn't question it. And Niket had taught her how to manipulate that data.

“You know, don’t take this the wrong way, but not everyone would resent your fate as much as you do,” Niket spoke frankly. “You have a nice house. Nice room. Nice clothes. Fucking...palatial gardens. Provided you don't piss him off, your Dad usually gives you enough money to buy anything you want, within his rules.”

“That makes up for being an experiment?” Miranda shot back instinctively.

“For some people, it would, yeah,” he pointed out with a shrug. “Don’t get me wrong, Miri. I’m not saying it’s great to be raised by a loveless jackass or that you’re wrong for hating him and wanting out, but there are plenty of people who would trade their life for yours in an instant. I mean, you’ve told me how he treats you. And, sure, he’s strict, but not to where you’d say he’s violent or he beats you. Some people aren’t that lucky.”

Wow. Miranda was hardly a sensitive person, but that comment was a dagger in her heart. She’d confided in Niket about her father’s cruelty because she trusted him. Nobody else knew, who wasn't an accomplice to it. To hear him downplay what she went through only twisted the knife her father had put there long ago.

“If those people want my life so much, they can have it,” said Miranda, trying not to show how deeply it hurt to hear Niket undermining everything she endured under her father's toxic influence. “It’s not my fault they don’t.”

“It's not about fault. It's about reality. Some people not only have shit fathers, but they get to be dirt poor too. I should know. It was my reality,” Niket countered, his words chastening Miranda into silence. She didn't know enough about the outside world to compare experiences. She barely knew anything about the outside world that she hadn't read in books, or learned about from a screen.

Maybe Niket was right. Maybe other people did have it worse than her. Far worse. Maybe she was selfish, ungrateful and privileged. Then again, she’d never told him her very real fear that her father might…murder her one day.

Niket could probably only imagine her father throwing her out on the street if she displeased him, or if he decided it was time to replace her. At worst, he probably expected her father might sell her off to some stranger to be their “daughter” instead of his. Killing her, though? That wasn’t something Niket would have predicted, unless she brought it up as a possibility. And Miranda hadn’t.

She didn’t want Niket to know of that risk. If he did, Miranda could picture him acting rashly to protect her, dismantling their carefully crafted escape plan.

Niket wasn't like her. He was more passionate than she was. More emotional. Normal, presumably. Miranda may not have understood normal people very well at all, but she did have feelings. And she knew well enough that getting emotional could cause a loss of control. Bad judgement. So what did that mean for someone who lacked her restraint? Someone who didn't have years of practice at suppressing their instincts? At suffocating those feelings?

Miranda couldn't trust what Niket might do if he had a reason to hate her father as much as she did. That was why it wasn’t worth telling him the truth. But, even so, he was the last person she would have expected to second-guess her desire to escape this gilded cage.

“I’ve never claimed to have the worst life in the world. I know I don’t,” Miranda continued, her voice quieter, defending herself as calmly as she could.

“No. Don’t worry about that,” Niket assured her, regretting his poor choice of words. “I’m not saying I…Look, when it comes to getting you out of here, I’m with you all the way. Don’t ever think I’m not. That’s not an issue with me.”

“Good,” said Miranda, still offended by the fact he’d even brought it up. He’d explicitly confirmed that all the things she’d told him about her father didn’t qualify him as a cruel man in his eyes, and that Miranda's problems weren't real problems. What more was there to say? “Then let’s not discuss it.”

“Miri…” He reached out to her apologetically, but she brushed him off.

“We don’t need to talk about this,” she stated firmly, smothering her own emotions, putting up her defences. “Just get it done.”

*    *     *

“Come on. Where are they?” Miranda complained, growing tired of waiting for the bulk of her team to catch up. Honestly, she was faster hobbling on a crutch than these grunts were at full fitness. With tanks. “Ox team, report. I need an ETA on those bulldozers. We're in search grid V-44A. What's taking you so bloody long to reach us?” Miranda asked, impatience starting to get the better of her.

She'd used up her last political favour to organise this effort. This was the last big chance they would have to find anyone alive. If this failed, there would be no do-overs. No second chances. As far as they ventured in the next three days would be as far as they would go for a while. It might be months before they expanded the habitable zone of London any further again.

Every second counted. They had to make the most of what little time they had.

“Apologies, Director Lawson,” the comms crackled in her ear. “We picked up some readings of instability in the area. Almost like seismic activity. Our crew is checking it out. We're waiting on an all clear from them before the vehicles advance. Don't want to open up a sinkhole by accident.”

“A warning would have been nice. Run a scan,” Miranda commanded the soldier on her right. She would have used her own omni-tool to do the job, but her arm was busy supporting her weight, and she didn't have a spare. The soldier dutifully obeyed. “We'll continue searching the area on foot ahead of you. Keep me updated on your progress. Time is short, and this debris won't clear itself. Find another path to us if you have to.”

“Roger that. Ox out.”

“Useless,” Miranda muttered under her breath. This was why she preferred to work alone. At least she knew she could rely on herself to get things done. But this was the kind of operation that required a lot of bodies on the ground. Hers was just one of several teams conducting their wide-scale push across the city. Jacob was leading one. Wrex another.

The efforts to coordinate between the Council races had also paid off. The human, asari and turian military forces on the ground had all organised their own teams as well. Miranda's team was even partially comprised of Alliance soldiers, but mostly those who had already been working in close concert with Bailey. Nobody really seemed to care that they were taking their orders from him. What mattered was that, in total, their search and rescue must have consisted of at least a thousand people, if not more. It was a start.

“I'm not reading anything. Then again, their scanners are stronger than mine,” the soldier on her right remarked. Miranda rolled her eye, deciding to make use of the people already with her, and do the rest herself.

Bailey wouldn't like her doing any heavy lifting. Miranda was useful to him, after all. If she got hurt, he lost a valuable asset. But screw it. He could sanction her if he had a problem with it.

“You, do a full sweep of that building. You, over there,” she commanded, gesturing with her crutch, splitting the relief crew off into groups to search the street for survivors, supplies and paths through the wreckage. That way, the demolition, clearance and salvage teams could plough through without wasting any more valuable time when they finally did arrive. “You two, come with me,” she instructed impatiently, heading into a dilapidated ruin of a building personally, not bothering to wait for the bulldozers.

“Yes, Director Lawson.” Everyone followed her orders without question, including the two Alliance soldiers who began to follow her.

It was the middle of the day, but the skies were still dark from the dust. Miranda hadn't forgotten how difficult it was to tell time in the wasteland. Even the brightest hours of the day felt like dusk. And it was cold. It was always cold now.

Miranda approached the only building that hadn't half-collapsed. An office block, with a lobby and reception area on the ground floor. Its exterior was still largely intact, bar the windows, which were all gone, shattered during the battle. Parts of the outer walls had come down, exposing the insides, as if a Reaper had blasted a hole in one side of the building.

“Get a light in there, would you?” Miranda instructed. One of the soldiers complied, the other continuing to run scans as he had before. The flashlight washed over the inside of the building. It was a mess. Some of the upper floors had fallen down into the lobby. Broken desks, computers, wires and lights hung from a half-broken ceiling. The sad thing was, that was a vast improvement over most places they'd come across. At least this one was still standing.

“Director Lawson, my scan couldn't penetrate too deep, but I'm detecting a possible source of the instability,” the male soldier, Alexei Resnikov, told her. “There are cavernous openings right below us.”

“Cavernous openings?” his squadmate echoed, a woman named Keiko Yoshizawa. “You mean the London underground? Or a car park? Here on Earth, we don't all travel by skycar, space cowboy. It's not like a space station. In case you haven't noticed, some of us still use roads and rails to get around.”

“How rustic,” Resnikov remarked with a snort.

“Knock it off,” Miranda ordered, bringing their pointless chatter to a swift and sudden end. “You mentioned the underground. We haven't been able to access it this far out. But if there is a station near here, that would be a likely place to find survivors. It's safe, it may still have leftover food and water, and the tunnels provide an easy path across the city. Until you hit the cave-ins, anyway.”

“Yeah. That makes sense.” Yoshizawa nodded, bringing up a holographic map. “We're heading in the right direction. The nearest one isn’t far from here. Cutting through this place is probably the easiest way, since the streets are blocked.”

“Why are you standing around like you're waiting for a taxi, then? Get moving,” Miranda spoke curtly, prompting the two soldiers to go on ahead of her. They didn't hesitate to comply.

She followed them into the lobby. It was even darker than outside, the air filled with a heavy cloud of particles. Miranda paused long enough to lift up her scarf, covering her nose and mouth. Ceiling panels and broken light fixtures were dangling down from the floor above, like vines in a thick jungle. Thankfully, there was no electricity to worry about. But it still required a little caution not to get tangled up in the wires as they moved through.

Resnikov and Yoshizawa's torches were the only light source, beams flashing through the shadow as they examined the scene. They made it maybe halfway across the floor before their path hit a dead end.

“This could be a problem,” said Resnikov, torchlight finding no longer finding any promising gaps they could manoeuvre through. “The upper floors have completely caved in ahead of us. We're blocked.”

“There's an elevator shaft,” Yoshizawa pointed out, nudging her beam of light towards it. “Given this building has underground parking, there should be a ramp or a stairwell to take us out the other side.”

“Should be?” Resnikov emphasised, clearly sceptical. “Look, I already saw an entrance ramp near where we came in, and that was totally clogged. If there is another exit, we can't guarantee it won't be blocked by rubble too.”

“So let's check,” Yoshizawa insisted.

“Pry the lift open,” Miranda ordered, willing to chance it. Yoshizawa set to work.

A slight tremor passed through the building. Dust sprinkled down from above.

“Did you feel that?” asked Resnikov.

“Nothing to worry about,” Miranda assured him, shaking her head, clearing the dirt from her hair, blinking it out of her eye. “We're not going to be in here for long.” Even as she spoke, the strange ripple coursed through the foundations once again. She furrowed her brow. “...Wait a moment. That isn't coming from above us,” she observed, concentrating on the subtle disturbance.

It happened again, shaking the ground beneath her feet. These tremors were happening in steady intervals, their tempo too precise to be something random. It almost sounded like a slow, low-pitched drumbeat.

“It feels like there's something underneath us,” said Resnikov.

“Whatever it is, it's sending out a pulse of some kind,” Miranda murmured, thinking aloud. “A signal, maybe.” If she was right about this, that would suggest there really were survivors in the tunnels. Perhaps these vibrations were somebody's way of trying to get the attention of anyone on the surface.

“Alright. We're clear.” Yoshizawa backed away from the doors after wrenching them apart as far as they would go, gesturing for the two of them to go ahead.

Miranda took a quick look inside. The fortunate thing about this building being largely intact was that the lift didn't seem to have been destroyed, meaning there were no obstructions at the bottom of the shaft. By sheer luck, the steel cables were still in one piece, supporting the weight of the elevator, which must have been hanging somewhere above her, frozen due to lack of power.

It was odd to still see an elevator with this design. Miranda had forgotten how low-tech parts of Earth could be, especially in old cities like London, where past architecture often survived through retrofitting, or, as in the case of the underground, a sense of tradition. 

This building may have stood largely unchanged for a hundred years, for all Miranda knew. Maybe longer.

“Hold this,” Miranda stated. It wasn’t a request, giving her crutch to Yoshizawa before the soldier could ask what she intended. Miranda biotic-pulled the cables towards her, rappelling down the shaft and swinging out onto the level below. The landing wasn't particularly gentle on her knee, which was nowhere near healing from the shuttle accident, but she could live with the discomfort. It was dark down there. Pitch black, almost. But she saw sunlight ahead.

“You were right. There is a way out,” she told them, lowering her scarf long enough to be heard, leaning against the wall to take the weight off her leg while she waited for them to follow her lead. Part of the wall on the far side of the building had collapsed, leaving a hole and a pile of rubble that led back up to the surface. Probably where an emergency stairwell used to be.

“What would you have done if there wasn't?” Yoshizawa asked on her way down.

“Climb,” Miranda answered bluntly. She was one-armed and wounded, but she wasn't useless, for heaven's sake.

She felt the tremor again. It seemed louder than before.

It was oddly familiar to her, but far too faint to place. What was it? It was like a word on the tip of her tongue. If she could just put her finger on it...

Soon enough, the three of them made it back to the surface, manoeuvring around debris on their way to the station, which wasn’t far ahead. If someone was using the tunnels to get around, Miranda admired their cleverness. It would have saved her a lot of trouble if she could have done the same, but alas she hadn't found an intact tube station during those five days she spent crawling through the wasteland. Intellectually, she was sure she would have passed more than one, but they must have been buried under debris, or otherwise inaccessible.

On the other hand, if she'd gotten stuck down there, Samara never would have found her. Given the state of her injuries, even if there had been one nearby with any food and water left, it probably wouldn't have kept Miranda alive. She would have succumbed to her wounds eventually, and died alone of sepsis. Her bad luck had been good fortune, as it turned out.

“That's it right there,” Resnikov pointed out, approaching the steps that led to the underground. They were partially obstructed – debris from the very building they'd just left, most likely.

“Stand back,” Miranda said, using her biotics to clear a path into the station, blasting away the pile of loose rubble that blocked the entrance. It was then that something clicked in her mind.

Of course. Miranda knew what the sound she'd heard before was. That was why it seemed so familiar.

Detonations. Someone was causing biotic detonations down there.

But for what purpose?

“Still plenty to scavenge here,” said Resnikov, his flashlight moving over to a small, abandoned kiosk. The security grating had already been bent by looters, probably months ago. But they hadn't taken everything. “Hey, Tupari. Love this stuff.”

“I only drink Paragade,” Yoshizawa remarked.

“Your loss.” Resnikov bent down beneath the warped security shutter and picked up a can, stowing it away for later.

“There's that sound again,” Yoshizawa commented as they passed through the ticketing gates, heading down the stairs and towards the station platforms, following the sound. She activated her omni-tool, analysing the noise. “There. It's coming from that tunnel. North of here.”

Yoshizawa jumped down onto the tracks, quickly followed by Resnikov. Miranda ignored Resnikov's unspoken offer of assistance, easing herself down unaided.

This wasn't the first time Miranda had explored the underground since getting back on her feet. Her first search and rescue operation under Bailey's command had taken her through the carcass of a train, not far from Paddington station. Their hopes of finding anyone holed up inside the carriage had quickly dwindled when they realised the train had been swarmed by Reaper forces long before the final battle. There were no survivors.

“Hello?” Resnikov called out, his voice reverberating off the walls. “Is anybody there?” Squeaking rats scurried through the darkness. Miranda hid her growing physical discomfort as she limped behind her troops.

Yoshizawa went on ahead, leaving Resnikov to help light Miranda's way. Miranda watched her silhouette head further into the hollow, claustrophobic chamber, the small circle of light hitting the walls ahead. Abruptly, the sound happened again. This time, it shook the ground they were standing on.

“Director! That was right ahead of us!” Yoshizawa instinctively rushed towards the noise, disappearing around a bend in the tunnel. Miranda hastened after her, listening to the young soldier speak with whoever it was that was causing these detonations. “Hello? Can you hear me?” Yoshizawa paused. “It's alright; I'm a rescuer. I'm with two others right now, but there's more above us.”

That confirmed it then. There were survivors down here.

She came around the corner to see Yoshizawa at a thick blockage in the tunnel. It looked like part of the road above had collapsed, leaving an impassable obstacle of concrete, metal and earth. Probably the footprint of a Reaper.

“Please! You have to help us,” a muffled voice pleaded from behind the debris. Miranda could barely make it out, even as she got closer. But she sounded young. Younger than Oriana. “We're stuck back here!”

“Keep them calm; I'll call it in,” Miranda ordered. “Sweep team, we have survivors trapped in a collapsed metro tunnel in grid V-44A. We need a drill to get them out.”

“You're going to be fine,” Yoshizawa answered back to the anxious voice. “Just hold tight. We'll dig you out of here.”

“Teach, they're telling us to stop,” another voice spoke, a male this time. “Maybe you should cool it with the detonations? You've been at this for way too long. You're going to wear yourself out at this rate.”

“No. Screw that,” a third voice sharply replied. Older than the others, but no less impetuous. “Seanne needs help now, Prangley. Not later. I'm sure as hell not sitting here in the dark counting on a bunch of assholes who can't do a damn thing to help us to be our only way out. We're doing this my way!”

The entire tunnel shook as a brutal burst of biotic force smashed into the wall.

Miranda whirled around, startled by the shockwave that rocked the ground underfoot. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Are you trying to get us all killed?!” she shouted through the obstruction, livid at the woman’s recklessness.

“If I stop, Seanne dies!” the obscured voice answered back, followed by another biotic combination. Chips of concrete and dust sprayed everywhere. With so little time to react, Miranda didn't know whether she should prioritise keeping her balance or shielding her eye from the fallout. Instinctively, she ended up choosing the latter when a second strike occurred.

A small shard of concrete grazed her cheek, opening a cut. With one last roar, the rogue biotic slammed into the obstruction, finally blowing open a gap in the debris. Miranda saw her shadow fall forwards, onto her outstretched palms, panting for breath, visibly worn out.

The woman arose from the ground, onto her knees, holding up a hand and squinting against the blindingly bright beams of light that Yoshizawa and Resnikov were pointing at her, both soldiers staring at her, too stunned to move.

Miranda's breath caught.

It couldn't be.

This wasn't possible.

“Ow. Hey, cool it with the damn flashlights, will you?” the figure groaned in discomfort, turning away to let her eyes adjust after living in darkness for so long.

“Jack?” Miranda said in disbelief, astonished to see that all too familiar face.

Judging by the silence that followed, Jack recognised Miranda's voice immediately, now that there was no wall blocking the sound. “Oh, fu—crying out loud...” Jack reluctantly swallowed the urge to curse in front of her kids. Of all the people she could have run into...

Miranda quickly recovered from the shock.

“What were you thinking?!” Miranda scolded, marching right up to Jack, despite her impairment. Not the consummate professionalism her soldiers expected from her, but her anger was warranted. “Do you have any idea how unstable the buildings are above us? This whole area is on the verge of collapsing in on itself! While you were blasting away like a lunatic, this entire tunnel could have caved in on top of you, and taken me and my people with it.”

“So? It didn't. I didn't know you were up there, anyway.” Jack shrugged as she stood up, doing her best to block out the headache-inducing onslaught of those torches shining directly into her face, barely even able to make out Miranda's silhouette, despite standing right in front of her. “Hey you, point those fucking things somewhere else,” she grumbled at Miranda's team, clearly a threat.

“Language, teach,” one of Jack's group spoke up.

“Ah, ffff...” Jack trailed off into a groan.

“You'd been doing so well, too,” another student joked.

“Hey, laugh it up later. We aren't out of here yet. And we still need to get Seanne to a doctor,” Jack said, her tone stern but fair, calmer now that they'd made contact with someone she knew, even if it wasn't someone she liked. She turned back to Miranda, her eyes still adjusting to the light. “Isn't that the part where you come in? What's the hold up, cheerleader?” she asked, gesturing at her to hurry it up.

Miranda shook her head and sighed with exasperation, activating her earpiece once more. “Ox, this is Lawson. Belay that order on the machinery. It's no longer necessary,” she informed them. “We're extracting the survivors on foot.”

“Roger,” the earpiece crackled in reply. “We'll meet you back at the square.”

Miranda closed the channel, glancing at her old squadmate. “I'll get you and your students the help you need. You're welcome, by the way,” Miranda muttered.

She heard Jack snort. “I never thanked you.”

“I noticed,” Miranda curtly replied.

“Yo, you two know each other?” one of Jack's students asked, the entire group of them beginning to emerge through the hole behind her one after the other. There weren't that many. Probably ten all up.

“We're acquainted,” Miranda answered dryly.

Jack uttered a sardonic snort, evidently having more choice words in mind to describe her history with Miranda. To her credit, she refrained from sharing them. This wasn't the time. Not with her kids depending on her. That didn't escape Miranda's attention. It was a far cry from what the old Jack would have done.

In that moment, in the torchlight, Miranda saw Jack wiping beads of sweat from her brow. It was no secret that using biotics consumed a lot of energy. Biotics who actively used their powers might have to eat three times more than a normal person just to function, if not more. Jack was holding herself together admirably, but she looked drained. Miranda softened, reminded of how she'd battled with exhaustion during her own struggle to survive.

“Resnikov, give her that Tupari of yours,” Miranda said, thinking that might help Jack recover some blood sugar.

“Sure thing, Ms. Lawson,” Resnikov responded, handing Jack the can.

“...I could use a boost,” Jack reluctantly murmured, which was about the closest she could get to an admission of gratitude, at least where Miranda was concerned. She cracked open the drink, and started chugging it.

“We should get moving,” said Miranda, shifting focus to what mattered. This place didn't exactly scream stability. “I don't want to stay in this tunnel longer than we need to. Resnikov, Yoshizawa, give Jack's students a hand, would you?”

“Will do,” Yoshizawa responded, nodding her head, she and her comrade heading over towards the small gap in the debris, where the students were awkwardly squeezing their way through the hole one by one.

Jack's eyes widened when the two passing torches suddenly washed over Miranda's form. She nearly choked on her drink, taken aback when she finally saw her old squadmate illuminated as more than a dark silhouette hidden in shadow.

“Whoa. Holy shit. What the hell happened to you?” Jack coughed to clear the mis-swallowed drink from her throat, startled at the sight of Miranda's extensive injuries. She hadn't been expecting that.

“Looks worse than it is.” Miranda turned away, not sure she wanted to hear Jack's take on her condition. Not that she was bothered by how she looked. She just knew Jack would have a bloody field day with it.

“Yeah, no shit. 'Cause you look like you should be dead. I mean, seriously, what the fuck? Did you get in a fist fight with a thresher maw?” Jack questioned, in what sounded like a snicker, shock quickly giving way to twisted humour.

“Something like that,” Miranda drawled offhandedly, only half-listening to Jack's comments, concentrating on counting heads as Resnikov and Yoshizawa tended to the students. Jack's mockery didn't really matter to her. She had other priorities.

“Hey, if you ask me, having half your face blown off is a huge improvement.” Jack shrugged casually. “For you, anyway. Garrus would say it gives you character.”

“Right,” Miranda distractedly replied, scarcely paying attention.

“How bad's the scar?” Jack asked, trying to glimpse beneath the bandages.

“Don't know. Hasn't healed yet,” Miranda answered, gradually losing patience.

“From the looks of things, I bet it's real fuckin' ugly,” Jack said, smirking.

“Are you done?” Miranda ignored the comment, already bored with this.

“Not even close. I haven't even started making fun of your arm yet.” Jack grinned mischievously, enjoying this way too much to quit anytime soon. “Want me to shut up? Clap once for yes, zero times for no.”

Miranda just stared at her expressionlessly, not offended but not amused.

“Instructor?” a young woman called out. Miranda glanced up to see several of the students huddled over one of their own, the last one to be brought through the gap Jack had created. All appeared desperately worried. Their friend looked faint. Pale. Almost green. “Seanne's getting worse again. She's burning up.”

“I know, Rodriguez. You did good, taking care of her. But these jerks will handle it from here,” Jack spoke, calm and confident. “Drink your juice, and let them carry her. Except you, Reiley. You can stay by her side. Miranda will make sure she gets all the help she needs. Or, if she doesn't, I'll punch a hole in her stomach,” Jack assured them, and Miranda knew that threat was a guarantee. 

In Jack's mind, anyway.

“No need for that,” Miranda said, having no intention of impeding the girl's treatment. “Let's get moving. The sweep team will meet us on the surface. They'll take your friend to a hospital.”

“Okay.” Rodriguez nodded, comforted by that promise. The boy they’d identified as Reiley gave Seanne's hand a gentle squeeze, staying by her side as Resnikov and Yoshizawa picked her up, draping her arms over their shoulders. The poor girl could barely walk. She probably didn't even know where she was.

“The station's not far,” Miranda said, limping alongside Jack, ahead of the others. It was good that they were getting an opportunity to speak before meeting the rest of the team. Despite their strained history, there were details she wanted to know from her, and she was sure Jack could say the same.

Over a month had passed since the war ended. Jack didn't know a damn thing about what had happened in that time. About Shepard, and the Normandy...

“These are all your students?” Miranda asked, aware of Jack's role as a mentor to gifted biotics in the Ascension Program. She'd learned about that long ago, having kept tabs on her former squadmates while she was on the run from Cerberus, to the extent that it was possible to do so. Jack had spoken fondly about her 'tykes’ back at Shepard's apartment on the Citadel. That makeshift reunion seemed like a world away. It was strange to think how recent it was.

Shepard had invited them all to that party, gathering the whole gang together on a whim, knowing it would be the last opportunity to do something like that before they took on Cerberus and the Reapers. Back then, Miranda had wondered how many of those faces would never see the light of day again. Now, she knew at least part of that answer, but the fates of all but a handful of their group were a mystery.

“Yeah. These are my kids. All the ones who lived.” Jack instantly dropped what remained of her joking demeanour, an uncomfortable hint of stark seriousness crossing her face. Miranda recognised the shift in her expression – it betrayed the presence of a deep sense of responsibility.

She blamed herself for everyone she'd lost, a burden Miranda knew too well. The difference was, Jack actually cared about the people under her command. She loved those kids. And she'd had to watch some of them die.

“What happened?” Miranda encouraged, urging her to share her story.

“We were stationed a ways south of here during the fighting, managed to escape north when the big wave hit. There was an outpost near us. Emphasis on was. Went there first, but no survivors. We holed up there for a while because it had some food and water. We figured, if anyone else had survived, somebody would fly over and spot us eventually, but nobody ever did. Once there was nothing left above, I came down to the tunnels; I figured the train lines were our best chance of crossing the city,” she explained.

“You were probably right. Much of the surface is impassable, and our search and rescue teams would have had no chance of reaching you. This is the first time we've gone so far northeast,” Miranda commented. “You would have been stranded out there. Staying above ground would have meant certain death. It nearly was for me.”

“Not sure this was much better,” Jack mumbled to herself, crushing the empty Tupari can and throwing it aside, her frustration becoming evident. “I thought it was a good deal. I mean, we found shit to eat and drink, they were safe places to sleep in, and there's not as many dead things as there are in the streets. But we'd always hit blocks in the tunnels. We'd either find another station nearby, or dig our way through. Eventually, I figured we'd be better off staying in one place for a while. Hunker down. Try to radio out or something.” Jack drew a deep breath, releasing it in a heavy sigh. “But I fucked up. I got too comfortable, and I stayed put when I should have been making ground.”

“How do you mean?” Miranda pressed.

“A few days ago, Seanne started throwing up,” Jack told her. “For a while, I thought it was best to keep her in one place and hope it would pass. But it's gotten worse. Her fever is out of control. I know she's dehydrated, but any fluid we give her won't stay down. She just vomits it up again. Her brother has to sit there and watch her waste away. I don't know if it was dirty water or if the rats got to her...”

“Don't worry. A drip in her arm will do her a world of good,” Miranda assured her. Jack looked down at her feet, visibly troubled to think she'd caused this – that she might lose another student, through nothing but her own poor judgement.

Jack shook her head, hating how powerless she felt. “Shit, it's my fault. I should have moved faster,” she said, wishing she'd had the sense to realise that something like this might happen. “I could have gotten her to you days ago.”

“Don't blame yourself. You didn't even know we were there,” Miranda reminded her. It was in Miranda's nature to be critical of others, thanks to her father's influence. But she knew how hard it was to navigate the wastes. How desolate they were. How easy it was to get lost, or think you were the last person alive. “You did the best you could for her, and now you've found us. I'll pull whatever strings I can to ensure she gets the best care possible.”

Jack slowly nodded, swallowing as she absorbed that reassurance, setting her mind to the thought that Seanne was going to be okay. For as many issues as she'd had with Miranda, she knew she wouldn't have said any of those things just to be nice to her. Far from it. If she thought Jack was at fault, she would have been the first person to tell her everything she did wrong. Miranda wouldn't have told her things were okay unless she meant it. She took some comfort from that. Everything really was under control now. They were over the worst bit.

“...Yeah. Yeah,” was all Jack said, lost in her own thoughts.

Miranda's expression softened, well aware that this was the most genuine moment she and Jack had ever shared. Not that there was any competition. The loss of so many friends, and the near-destruction of an entire galaxy could put a lot of things into perspective like that.

“Jack?” Miranda spoke again, prompting her to look up. “I'm glad you're okay,” she admitted, willing to be the bigger person in this situation, and to extend the olive branch. And, oddly enough, she actually meant it.

Jack uttered a quiet but authentic laugh, letting her head fall back for a moment. “Yeah, you too,” Jack conceded. Strange, but true. “You're still a cunt, though.”

“Well, we can't change everything,” Miranda remarked, choosing to take that as a term of endearment rather than an insult. Judging from the light chuckle she gave, Jack probably intended it to be both.

For as irreconcilable as their differences had once seemed, they had parted on comparatively good terms the last time they met. Certainly, their brief interactions at Shepard's apartment hadn't magically transformed them into friends or anything like that, but it seemed to have quelled the bulk of the animosity between them, resulting in something perhaps not far removed from mutual respect and tolerance. They appeared to have reached the point where they could mostly co-exist, without lingering feelings of hostility. Miranda could live with that.

“Found anyone else of ours?” Jack asked, breaking Miranda's train of thought.

“No. Well, yes, but...What I mean is, before you, I was the most recent find,” Miranda clarified. “Samara brought me out of ground zero. Saved my life. That was four weeks ago. Jacob was already at the camp. Wrex is there, too. They're both fine. Physically, at least. Since I woke up, Samara's...disappeared, for unknown reasons. We think she's still alive. Everyone else? Not so fortunate. They're all unaccounted for.”

“Ah, shit.” Jack scuffed the ground with her boot. Miranda paused, wondering if she should share the news about Shepard's demise, but she thought better of it. This wasn't the right time. It would only upset her.

Honestly, Miranda didn't like to dwell on it, either. As far as she knew, the four of them were all that remained of the Normandy SR-2.

Her morose ruminations were swiftly silenced. A vicious crack echoed throughout the tunnel, as loud as thunder. She whirled around instinctively, as did Jack, unable to tell where it was coming from. Yoshizawa and Resnikov shone their lights back down the tracks. In the glow, Miranda saw dust trickle from the ceiling, from the same direction where Jack had demolished the blockage.

Oh, bloody hell.

“The tunnel's falling apart. This whole area could cave in at any moment,” Miranda spoke, her firm tone punctuated with an undercurrent of creeping urgency.

“Fuck,” she heard Jack curse beside her, realising she may have triggered this in her reckless haste to get Seanne into the hands of someone who could cure her sickness. “Come on! Double time it!”

Even if they weren't directly under the most precarious point, none of them wanted to take that risk, nor be trapped down there if anything should happen. All it would take was a building being tilted too far to one side, and then countless tonnes of collapsing concrete, glass and metal could leave them trapped inside. If they were lucky enough to survive.

They couldn't afford to let that happen.

“Move, move, move!” Jack pushed the students to run past her. Miranda also made sure Yoshizawa and Resnikov carried Seanne ahead of them, not about to leave anyone behind. Not again. Suddenly, Miranda felt a sharp pain in her injured shoulder. “You too, you crippled motherfucker,” Jack said.

“Hey!” Miranda instinctively protested through gritted teeth when she saw Jack draping her bandaged stump of an arm over her shoulder, all but carrying her out of there. God, it hurt. “Let me go.”

“Fuck that. Joker moves faster than you do,” Jack pointed out.

Miranda couldn't really argue with that. She couldn't run with her left knee practically demolished on the inside.

Miranda swallowed a gasp of pain, trying not to show how much her body was killing her. It felt like Jack was going to tear what little was left of her arm clear out of the socket, or snap her already wounded leg clear in two. Still, she could see the platform getting closer by the second. They'd made it back to the station in one piece, not far behind the others.

Jack jumped up first, extending her hand to pull Miranda up onto the platform behind her, the two of them ascending the stairs to the upper level. They'd made it about halfway through the concourse before Miranda heard the sound from the tunnels below. The very place where they'd been standing a minute ago was no doubt now completely buried under a mountain of earth, bitumen, concrete and twisted metal. It was a good thing they'd left when they did.

“I think we're in the clear for now,” Miranda said, wincing as she gingerly made her way out of the underground and into the ash-clouded sunlight.

“Director Lawson?” Miranda heard a voice over her earpiece. “What the hell was that? Are you okay?”

“We're fine here, Ox. One of the train tunnels collapsed. Fortunately, we weren't in it,” she informed them, taking her last few steps back out onto the street, easing herself back against a nearby skybus shelter, keeping the weight off her throbbing knee, her body reminding her just how injured she still was. “We've located eleven survivors. One critically ill. Can you get through to us at the station?”

“Negative, Director. With that tunnel caving in beneath you, this whole street is one giant catastrophe waiting to happen. Protocols prevent us from moving the dozers in your direction right now, which means we can't get to you. It's simply too dangerous,” the Ox team commander answered back.

Miranda hesitated. Objectively speaking, she understood their decision, and they were only obeying her earlier commands by keeping those priorities in order. But that left them stranded in a precarious position. If the ground shifted again, any one of these buildings could come crashing down on top of them.

“Is there another way around?” Miranda asked over the communicator.

“Another way? We don't have time for another way!” Jack pressed, as if that should have been obvious. “Our best bet is to cut through one of these buildings right now and meet them wherever they are.”

“Jack, please.” Miranda silenced her, focused on her conversation. She couldn't rush this decision. She needed to think. Exasperated, Jack threw her hands up in the air and began to pace back and forth impatiently, Seanne's health weighing heavily on her mind.

“I suppose we could circumvent the area, or try to meet you somewhere else, but honestly there's no telling how long that might take, or if those other paths to you are any safer,” the Ox team coordinator told her straightforwardly. “Besides, that still leaves you in a danger zone. Even if we hurry, it's risky.”

“Look, listen to me,” Jack began, coming back to her once more, trying to present as calm and rational of a demeanour as she could manage. “These structures are already unstable. The longer we sit here and wait, the shakier they're gonna get.” Miranda could hear the undercurrent of emotion in her voice. Jack was doing a good job of staying composed, no doubt knowing Miranda might disregard her advice otherwise. She did tend to be more amenable to a plan presented without yelling or swearing. “So why wait? Let's just punch through here nice and quick. Get out now, while this block still stands.”

Miranda paused, considering her words. A few months ago, she wouldn't have given her input much if any consideration. But that was a different time. Jack really had changed since then.

She wasn't the selfish, violent psychopath Miranda had met last year. Far from it. Instead, Jack had helped her without a second thought, making damn sure everyone got out of that tunnel in one piece. Hell, maybe the person Miranda once thought Jack was never existed. Maybe she'd always been wrong about her.

Plus, it wasn’t lost on Miranda that Jack had managed to do something she hadn’t during the war. She’d kept people alive.

Miranda’s breath shallowed, remembering the faces that haunted her nightmares. The team she’d led to Earth. The Alliance soldiers she’d fought beside at the barricade. The shuttle crew that had come to her rescue. One by one, they’d followed Miranda to their end, like lemmings off the edge of a cliff. Weren’t there enough deaths on her hands?

In that silent moment of reflection and regret, Miranda did something she’d never done before. She second-guessed herself.

“Alright,” Miranda agreed, making the decision to trust Jack's judgement over her own. “There's a car park underneath that building. That's how we reached you. The ramp is obstructed on the other side, but we can climb up through the elevator shaft. Once we're out, the rest of my team should be waiting for us there.”

Jack seemed relieved, though Miranda had a sneaking suspicion that it wouldn't have mattered whether she supported her idea or not. Knowing Jack, she would have disregarded any order to stay put.

“Remain where you are, Ox. We're going to try and reach you. Better that a few of us move through this area on foot than risk the bulldozers triggering a reaction that threatens us all,” Miranda informed them, straightening up once again. “When I return, we'll resume our operations on a different route.”

“Copy that. We'll keep our heavy machinery at a distance just to be safe, but a few of us can head your way to help get the survivors to safety.”

“One survivor is in critical condition. She needs an urgent evac,” Miranda relayed, not sure Seanne would be able to survive the journey back without medical attention. She didn't fail to notice Jack watching her as she spoke to her team, an unreadable expression on her face. Miranda turned away, electing to ignore her.

“Noted. We've already radioed for an emergency medical shuttle. Should be here soon, so just get her to us and we'll load her on. In any event, we'll make sure some medics are there to meet you.”

Miranda breathed a small sigh. That was all they could do. “Alright. Lawson out.”

“Let's go,” Jack didn't hesitate to instruct her kids, eager to get Seanne into proper care. Resnikov carried her through the street and down the loose slope of rubble into the car park unassisted, Yoshizawa focusing on lighting the way once they made it inside.

“Resnikov, you should take Seanne up first,” Miranda advised, recognising that getting the poor girl into the hands of a medic could make a huge difference to her odds of survival. “Get her to the rest of the team and have them bring her to a hospital. Letting her wait here for the rest of us is only an unnecessary delay.”

“I'll need someone else to help me get her up the shaft,” Resnikov answered.

“Reiley should go with her,” Jack spoke up, gesturing to him. “He's her brother.”

“Fair enough.” Miranda nodded. That was as good a reason as any. Without delay, Reiley went into the shaft, scaling the tight space with the aid of the cables. Seanne was still aware enough that she could extend her hands under her own power, letting her brother pull her up, while Resnikov pushed from below.

“We're up,” Resnikov called down. “I'll come back in a few minutes.”

“Hopefully we'll be out by then,” Yoshizawa answered. “Alright. Who's next?”

Two more students went up the cables. Miranda had a good internal clock, which was normally a blessing, but in this case made her uneasy as she took note of how long this evacuation would take. Six more students had to go, followed by herself, Jack and Yoshizawa. She knew why this space made her so tense. If something went wrong, this basement car park was not the place they wanted to be.

“Jack,” Miranda spoke in hushed tones, subtly pulling her aside in the darkness. “Now that Seanne is in good hands, the rest of us should consider taking the long way around,” she suggested. None of them had any pressing need to hurry.

“Why?” Jack shrugged. “We're, what, ten minutes away from getting out?”

“Maybe, but it does occur to me that we're right above that tunnel you inadvertently destroyed,” Miranda pointed out. “Call me overcautious, but that knowledge doesn't exactly make me comfortable about standing here for any prolonged period of time.”

“Don't be a pussy,” Jack said with a snort.

“Better than being dead,” Miranda retorted. Jack blew her off, moving to be with her students. So much for that conversation.

“Okay, you're next.” Yoshizawa gestured for the girl named Rodriguez to come forward. Miranda approached them, standing among the remnants of the group, contemplating running a structural scan on the building, if only to disprove her own doubts. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe she was just being paranoid.

Rodriguez reached out for the cables, a little unsteady on her feet. She caught one, but seemed reluctant to go into the dark space alone. Miranda had noticed consistent signs of anxiety in the girl. She reminded herself to have all these kids scheduled to meet with a crisis counsellor later for a mental health assessment, overburdened though those services were. Post-traumatic stress disorder certainly wasn't out of the realm of possibility for any of—

Suddenly her non-deaf ear pricked up, her thoughts snapping into silence.

Rodriguez flinched and glanced up. “What was that?” she gasped.

Miranda heard it too.

“What was wh—?”

“Get back!” Miranda darted past Yoshizawa, hastily pulling Rodriguez away from the doors, sending them both tumbling to the floor. They escaped the impact by mere moments, Miranda shielding the girl with her body as best she could.

Metal crashed into concrete with crushing force. A concussive blast resonated through the cold, dark space in a deafening echo. Miranda didn't need to guess what had happened. One of the elevator cables had snapped, and the lift had slammed into the ground. From a long way up, it seemed.

“Holy shit,” Jack's voice broke the silence, stunned with shock.

Miranda released a sigh of relief. Wounded though she was, her reflexes were still as fast as ever. She groaned as she picked herself up, resting back on her good knee. “You okay?” Miranda asked with a grimace, checking on Rodriguez.

“Yeah. Thanks,” the girl answered, shell-shocked, but unharmed. “What about you?” she asked in return, not so sure she could say the same about her saviour.

Miranda stifled a wince, trying not to let it show just how badly her body hurt after doing that. “I'll be fine. Just give me a minute.” She waved her off, not quite sure her leg wouldn't just buckle underneath her if she tried to stand.

Rodriguez didn't question her, silently handing Miranda her crutch for whenever she was ready to use it. She got back to her feet, giving Miranda her space.

Jack watched on. Miranda could feel her scrutiny, feel those eyes assessing her. She was painfully conscious of it, in fact.

Jack was the only one among them who knew what Miranda was capable of before the war. She'd seen her at her strongest. To everyone else, the fact that Miranda could do anything at all must have made her seem like a superwoman, which wasn't entirely inaccurate to be fair. But not Jack. Jack could recognise just how badly Miranda was struggling. How much pain she would have to be in to be unable to stand. How much weaker she truly was.

From her silence, Miranda knew it was already too late. Jack had seen through her efforts to keep it hidden as soon as her mask had slipped. The only saving grace was that Miranda was quietly confident that Jack wouldn't give a shit.

“Well, I guess we're not climbing out,” Yoshizawa broke the silence, shining her torch in the shaft. Sure enough, the cables were broken now.

Suddenly, Miranda heard a shrill, high-pitched scream. Followed by another, and another. The sound crescendoed, like the swell of a rising wave, voices yelling out in horror, but their cries were drowned out by sickening cracks from above. Yoshizawa pointed her flashlight upwards. What Miranda saw there made her blood turn cold, and the rest of her freeze in place.

The floor above them was crumbling. The entire building was breaking apart. And it was coming down on top of them.

People often said stupid things about how time slowed when death was imminent. Miranda could attest otherwise. It happened incredibly fast. Too fast for even her to possibly react, even with her heightened reflexes. She heard the upper levels cascading down on top of each other, entire storeys sliding loose and falling into the streets below, the levels of the building collapsing in on themselves one by one. Dust and debris rained down from above, filling up the elevator shaft. Deep gashes burst open in the ceiling as the immense mass bore down upon them.

Miranda instinctively raised her hand and looked away, realising it was too late. But nothing happened. Seconds passed, and she was still alive.

A faint blue glow washed across her face, prompting her to glance up and scan the area. All she could hear was the thunderous pounding of her own heartbeat, her thoughts racing to assess the situation.

Then she saw it. Miranda was awestruck.

Jack was single-handedly holding up the building, using only her biotics.

“What in the...How are you doing that...?” Yoshizawa gasped in awe.

Jack grimaced, her body shaking as blue biotic light dimly illuminated the darkness around her. “Whatever you're going to do, do it fast. I don't know how long I can hold this.”

Miranda knew that was no exaggeration. Frankly, it was a miracle she was doing this at all. Anyone else would have been flattened instantly. Anyone else but the most powerful human biotic ever to live.

A quick glance at their surroundings revealed that the way they'd just come in was sealed shut, too much debris having fallen behind Jack. That meant the other exit was their best hope – the only chance they had. But they wouldn't get anywhere unless Ox team could help dig them out from the other side.

“Over there!” Miranda pointed to their best way out, pushing herself up to her feet, leaning heavily on her crutch. “Everybody move as fast as you can. We'll need to dig our way out,” she urged, and Yoshizawa didn't hesitate to follow her direction.

“Come with me!” the soldier commanded, leading Jack's students towards the debris blocking the ramp. They quickly began pulling at every loose bit of rubble they could find, grabbing nearby bits of steel to help wedge fallen chunks of concrete out of place.

Miranda activated her earpiece. “Resnikov, do you read me?”

“Yeah. We're all okay over here. The top part of the building just collapsed and fell off, but it looks like it stabilised somehow,” Resnikov replied back.

“From where I'm standing, it's not looking very stable. We're still trapped in the car park underneath. And now the way we came in is blocked,” Miranda replied, keeping her tone as calm as she could, given the circumstances. Panicking would help nobody.

“What? Shit...” Resnikov swore on the other end of the line.

“Listen to me, I need you to gather everyone you can to start digging us out from your side. Everything. Bulldozers. Machines. People. There's still nine of us trapped down here, with no other way out,” Miranda instructed, tension running high.

“But...Director! I...The protocol—!” a different voice came over the channel.

“Override the fucking protocol!” Miranda snapped into her communicator, momentarily losing her cool. It was warranted. This situation was hanging on a knife's edge. If they didn't act immediately, they would die. They would all die.

Emergencies didn't come more urgent than this.

“...We'll do everything we can. Hold on,” Resnikov replied.

Then the channel went quiet.

Miranda swallowed, adrenaline coursing through her system. She didn't do fear. She didn't get scared. But the stakes of the situation were not lost on her. They should have already been dead. The only reason they weren't was...

She glanced back at Jack. Standing alone. Shaking under the strain. Burning with biotic light. Carrying the weight of an entire building on her back.

She was damn near tearing herself apart to try and save them. But she was a long, long way from that blocked exit ramp. Even if they opened up a gap, how the fuck were they supposed to get Jack out without the building falling down on top of them?

No. That wasn't an option. Past grievances between them meant nothing anymore. Jack was part of her crew. And Miranda wasn't about to let someone who'd fought at her side for the future of all organic life die if she could possibly help it. She would think of something. She had to.

With that in mind, she headed back for her. Miranda may have been crippled, but she still had her biotics. If she could just take the pressure off Jack for a little while, maybe she could buy them all enough time.

Jack eyed Miranda like she'd lost her mind, watching her hobble across the distance between them. “The fuck are you doing?” Jack asked, teeth clenched, barely able to move her lips given how hard she was concentrating.

“Saving your life,” Miranda coolly answered, raising her one good arm, adding her strength to Jack’s, beginning to feel just how tenuous the structure actually was through the 'fingers' of her biotic field. She couldn’t do much, but that dim blue glow grew a little bigger, and a little brighter.

“More like dooming us all,” said Jack, visibly wincing. Miranda didn't want to think about how badly it must have been hurting her, holding this building up by herself.

From Miranda's meagre contributions, she could tell that Jack was using her biotics in two different ways. First, to make the building lighter, to the extent that she could. Second, exerting force – a barrier to hold it up. Miranda was carrying only a fraction of the weight that Jack was, not from lack of trying. Even that was enough to give her a sense of just how monumental this feat truly was. How was it even possible to have this much power, let alone this much control?

“We don't have time for this. Get them out of here,” Jack said, jerking her head towards the ramp, the students and the soldier trying in vain to dig their way out. “I'd do it myself, but...” A tremor running through the building above them cut off whatever Jack intended to say. She looked like she was about to either throw up or pass out, but she endured. Somehow.

“We have a fleet of rescuers converging on our position as we speak,” Miranda assured her, not worried that the machines could dig out an opening. That's what they were there for.

“Yeah, good for you, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm kinda busy keeping us from getting flattened. If I move, we're toast,” Jack pointed out, managing a roguish laugh despite the stress her body was under. “Much as I'd like to bring this building down on top of you and take you down with me...” She trailed off, briefly meeting Miranda's gaze. She couldn't even pretend she was considering that anymore, much as the old Jack would have. “Well, that would set a bad example for the tykes. And I wouldn't want to do you the favour.”

“That's not going to happen. To either of us,” said Miranda, glancing over her shoulder to see a sliver of light as the team outside began clearing the ramp. A hiss escaped her as the weight of the building shifted again. “If we can just brace the ceiling long enough, they can get in a crane to hold this up for us, or knock the upper floors down away from us—”

“Are you serious?” Jack all but snapped. If her hands weren't otherwise occupied, she would have slapped Miranda on the mangled side of her face. “This building's coming down no matter what we do. I'll hold it as long as I can. But you need to get your stupid ass out of here.”

“Damn it, Jack. You stubborn—” Miranda cut herself off from unleashing any insults. As motivating as her mutual animosity towards Jack had been at times, now was not the time to bicker. “Just hold on.”

“What do you think I'm trying to do?!” Jack shot back, pushed beyond her limits, both mentally and physically. She was giving Miranda an out – giving her former enemy a chance at life by sacrificing her own – and she wasn't taking it. Miranda wouldn’t let her do it. It must have been driving her crazy. “This is fucking bullshit...” Jack commented under her breath, glancing down, as if the burden of her thoughts surpassed the weight of the building.

Miranda couldn’t argue with that assessment.

After a moment, Jack collected herself, and cast a sideways glance at Miranda. “Look, I'm stuck here, but you don't have to be,” Jack said, speaking with the kind of even, straightforward tone Miranda would normally have associated with Shepard. “I don't care about surviving. You just get these kids somewhere safe. Now clear the ramp and get them out before this building comes down on top of us,” she calmly instructed, looking her dead in the eye, though it went against every fibre of her nature to be so composed. Jack would talk to Miranda any damn way it took to get her to do what she told her.

Miranda stared at her. The selfish psychopath she'd met a year ago was nowhere to be seen. Either that, or she'd grossly misjudged her this whole time. Suffice it to say, Miranda was stunned by the depth of the change in Jack. She'd grown more than any of them. It wasn't even close.

Suddenly, Miranda felt a lot more riding on getting Jack out alive than mere duty to an old shipmate. These fleeting moments they'd shared since they'd reunited down in the tunnels, they'd forced Miranda to see Jack as a real person, a three-dimensional person, a complex person, a person who deserved better than the cruel hand life had dealt her. And, if the genuine concern and emotional connection those teenagers had for her was any indication, that person had a lot left to live for.

“Did I stutter or did you lose your ears too?” Jack challenged when Miranda didn’t move. “I'm not making a polite request. I'm giving you a fucking order.”

“I don't take orders from you,” Miranda persisted, refusing to abandon her.

“Get moving. Do it. Get the fuck out,” Jack said, her stance momentarily wavering under the burden of the half-broken building.

For once in her life, Miranda didn't know what to say. No perfect, prepared answers or replies. She was torn. Intellectually, she knew that the smartest thing to do was focus her efforts on clearing the ramp. Get the most people out. Save herself. But the other part of her knew that would mean leaving Jack to die. And she couldn't do that. She couldn't add another name to the list of people she'd lost. She couldn't add another face to the ghosts that haunted her dreams. The people she'd failed to save in this war. The team she'd led to their deaths in London. The friends and crewmates she'd never see again.

The old Miranda would have made the pragmatic decision in a heartbeat. Without hesitation. But Jack wasn't the only person who'd changed. Maybe Miranda's change hadn't been as drastic. But the person who could make that cold, calculated choice didn't exist anymore. Somewhere down the line, she'd learned to care. Sometimes she wished she hadn't. Because, even though she was terrible at it, it couldn't be unlearned.

What was she supposed to choose?

“Jack—”

“Do it or I swear to every fucking god what happened to your fucking face in life will be a fucking cakewalk compared to what I'll do to you in death if you don't get my kids the fuck out of here!” Jack finally snapped, her patience frayed to breaking point, and her meaning deadly serious.

A steely look came over Miranda. Like it or not, Jack was right. Miranda knew what to do; what she had to do. But she would be damned if she was just going to accept it that easily.

“I'm coming back for you, Jack,” Miranda vowed, reluctantly stepping away, much to Jack's relief. She moved as quickly as she could towards the others, adding her biotics to the effort to clear the ramp. The students had made progress, with help from the soldiers on the other side. Miranda could hear machinery through the wall of debris – it sounded like handheld drills. They were starting to cut through.

Pretty soon, they started to see light. Small holes. Each one felt like it was worth its dimensions in gold. Every ray of light was a beacon of hope. They worked frantically on both sides to try and wedge the holes open, digging wherever their hands and their tools found purchase.

“Come on. A little more and we can probably start squeezing through,” Yoshizawa encouraged the students, doing an admirable job of keeping them focused. She wasn't wrong, either. The holes were widening inch by inch. Miranda could hear her team on the other side barking directions to each other, working as hard as they could to get them out.

Just as Miranda tried to peer through the gaps to see what was going on outside, she heard a pylon not far behind her crack, everyone ducking instinctively, most of them certain they just saw the ceiling get about a foot lower. Miranda clenched her teeth, glancing back to Jack. Jack was struggling, the weight gradually pushing her closer to the ground. She was bending, bowing under the pressure. But she didn't buckle. Somehow, she was still enduring. But every passing second must have felt like an eternity.

“Where the bloody hell are those bulldozers?!” Miranda called out through the holes in the debris, slamming her fist into the concrete in frustration.

“They're coming as fast as they can. But I don't know if they can make it in time. The roads aren't clear,” Resnikov told her, from his position just beyond the rubble. Miranda growled, cursing internally. He was right. The street was blocked by too much debris, mostly from all the other buildings that had crashed into the ground during the war.

“Then we keep doing it the hard way,” said Miranda, grabbing her crutch and wielding it like a battering ram, bashing her way through the wall of rubble, even if her one-armed efforts were basically useless.

Eventually, their combined efforts managed to push through the debris, forming a gap just wide enough to get people through. About six different pairs of feet kicked at the hole, knocking away anything that someone could potentially get stuck on. It would have to do.

“Alright, let's move,” Miranda ordered, all but pushing one of Jack's students towards daylight, waiting for them to worm their way through the narrow crack before doing the same with another. It took time for each person to squirm through. It wasn't easy.

“Go, go, go!” Resnikov ordered, still working on wedging the crack open from the other side, stretching the gap further apart, knocking away loose bits of rubble, finding it easier now that they had a little more leverage.

“What about Jack?” asked one of the students, a young man. Miranda hadn't caught his name. “We're not leaving without her!”

“I've got her. Don't worry,” Miranda assured them, heading back for her, limping out across the floor to where Jack stood alone. “Come on, Jack,” she spurred her on, gesturing for her to make a dash for it now that they had a way out. The hole was getting bigger. The light was getting brighter. “There's enough space for us to get through. It's now or never.”

“What part of 'this building will collapse if I'm not standing under it' do you not understand?” Jack shot back, furious with Miranda for endangering herself despite her repeated efforts to get her to leave.

“Is sprinting intellectually beyond you?” Miranda sarcastically countered.

“I'll be dead before I take my first step,” Jack replied, knowing that if she moved for even a second the roof would immediately cave in right above her head. She could feel the crumbling structure like an extension of herself.

Miranda wasn't a fool; she'd felt what Jack was going through. And she knew she was right. But Miranda didn't care anymore. She'd lost too much already. Surviving the war had come at such a cost. She hadn't even begun to fully count the price. If this was going to kill her, then so be it. But she wasn't about to let the universe take one more god damn thing from her. Not without a fight.

“Well, I'm not leaving you behind,” Miranda vowed, a surge of power flaring through her wounded body. Without even thinking, she used her biotics to pull a largely intact column out of the debris pile that had been blocking the exit ramp, slowly prying open a massive, person-sized hole. She didn't even care that moving something so big and dense took a lot out of her, or that she was pushing herself beyond her limits. At a time like this, she couldn't afford to have limits. She strained with effort as she began to tear it free.

“What—?” If Jack had intended to ask what she was doing, she didn't need to. Yoshizawa and the remaining students had to quickly duck and dodge out of the way as Miranda abruptly pulled the column loose and dragged it across the floor. Her biotics were running on sheer determination alone, moving the column into position beside Jack, forcing it to prop up the ceiling beside her. Jack snorted. “Don't be stupid. You know that's not going to hold the building.”

“It doesn't have to. It just needs to last long enough for you to make it out,” Miranda answered her, steadfastly refusing to budge, even as she could feel the effort ripping at the muscles in her arm, and sending piercing jolts of pain through the implant in her brain. Miranda could take it; it was nothing compared to what Jack was suffering.

Jack uttered a hollow laugh. “You're a real fucking cunt, you know that?” she said. Yet again, coming from her that sounded almost like a term of endearment. As much of one as Miranda would ever get from her anyway.

Miranda tasted blood, her teeth grinding together from the exertion. She looked back over her shoulder, leaning heavily on her crutch for support. The person-sized hole she'd torn in the wall meant the last of the students had gotten out easily, together with Yoshizawa. Distant faces watched on from the other side, too sensible to risk going in after them. There was no one left to rescue. Just Jack.

Miranda's gaze narrowed to a glare when she turned back to find Jack still hadn't moved so much as an inch towards her. Both women stood their ground, as if fused to it in a game of self-sacrificial chicken.

“What are you waiting for?” asked Miranda, feeling her pulse quicken as time grew shorter. “Alright, Jack, you wanted to prove something to me? To show how much you've grown, and how much of a better person you are than I am? Well you have. You were right about Cerberus, and I was wrong about you. You're a better person than I am, and you've overcome things that I never could have,” she admitted, willing to acknowledge that Jack's ability to pull herself together and get her life on track had far exceeded anybody's expectations. She'd come the furthest out of all of them, which was a fucking miracle given where she'd started. Was that what she wanted to hear? “You don't have to kill yourself to spite me.”

“Spite you? Man, fuck you. You would win the gold fucking medal in self-centredness. But, news flash: everything isn't always about you,” Jack remarked, giving something between a sneer and a hiss.

“Then why won't you go?” Miranda challenged, her biotics beginning to falter from overuse. She wasn't alone in that. The strain of maintaining her biotic field for so long made bulging veins visible beneath Jack's skin, like her blood vessels were threatening to burst, or pop clean out of her flesh. She wouldn't hold out long, especially given how tired she'd been to begin with.

The more Miranda looked, the more she realised Jack was beyond exhausted. Even the last remnants of her energy reserves were long gone. She was running on empty. She should have been dead by now. Maybe she already was, and they just didn't know it.

“Look. Here's the thing. If I sprinted, I might make it out,” Jack conceded, breathing more heavily by the second, perspiration falling from her dehydrated brow like torrential rain, soaking the ground beneath her quivering feet. “Probably got about a one in twenty shot of making it. Not likely, but it could work. But what about you? You can't even walk, let alone run.”

“I can try,” Miranda replied, not concerned. She could handle herself.

“Or you'll just kill both of us,” Jack pointed out. She'd been watching Miranda, noticing the signs that belied her façade of strength. She knew exactly how sick and injured Miranda still was. She wouldn't make it two steps before being buried beneath the wreckage.

“I'm prepared to take that risk,” Miranda insisted, unwavering. It was worth it, if it gave Jack a chance. Miranda may have survived the war against all odds, but she'd made peace with death a long time ago. Besides, she'd led enough people to their untimely ends. Maybe she deserved to join them.

“Then where the fuck does that leave the tykes?” said Jack, her tone increasingly dark. “Those are my kids. They're mine.” Her stance kept getting lower, like there was someone pressing their hands into her shoulders, pushing her down with all their might. Her strength was slowly wavering. Her arms were shaking like they were about to break off. “Ugh. You know, you really do suck for making me go through this,” she grumbled, but if it was intended to sound resentful, it didn't. More like resigned.

Miranda didn't plan on giving up on her just yet.

“Is the building clear or not?” the voice of Ox team's commanding officer came over her earpiece. Miranda hadn't even been paying attention to the comms, too focused on herself and Jack.

“Ms. Lawson's still in there with a survivor,” Resnikov said. “Should we go back in?”

“No. It's too unstable. I can't send anyone else in after them,” the commander replied. Cold, but sensible. Exactly what Miranda would have instructed in any normal situation. “We can't afford casualties.”

Hearing that motivated Miranda to move closer. “Come on, Jack. Go,” she ordered, prepared to drag Jack kicking and screaming to safety if she had to. If she weren't one-armed and limping, she would have done that already. “I'll hold on to the pylon as long as I can.”

“That won't do shit and you know it,” Jack responded. For all her gifts, Miranda's biotics couldn't hold a candle to Jack's. Especially not now.

“Then what do you suggest?” Miranda snapped. Even when she was trying to save her life, Jack still managed to vex her to no end. Bloody nutcase. “Run for it now and you have a chance. The building is coming down whether you move or not—”

“Damn it, would you shut up and listen to me for five fucking seconds!?” Jack cut her off, sick of Miranda making everything about herself, and her guilt. At that, a spark of recognition flashed across Jack's bloodshot eyes. Maybe there was still away to appeal to Miranda – to talk her out of this senseless self-sacrifice.

“Hey. If you really do regret the way things went down between us, or if you feel the slightest bit of shame about working for Cerberus, then do this for me – you look after those kids,” Jack said, giving her one-time nemesis a long, unwavering look, as if staring into her soul, to see if any part of her deserved to be imbued with that amount of faith. Jack had long doubted that Miranda had any genuine redeeming qualities, but, if there was ever a time for her to show them, this would be it. Maybe saving her life would bring it out of her. “I need you to make sure they land on their feet, okay? They haven't got anyone else.”

“They've got you,” Miranda persisted, continuing to walk forward with her arm outstretched to hold up the pylon, her crutch long abandoned, her knee screaming in pain.

Jack gave a sardonic laugh. Of all the people she would have pictured entrusting her found family to, Miranda wasn't anywhere on that list. Hell, a year ago, Jack would never have pictured there being anyone she cared about, let alone a bunch of kids she considered her own, and protected as fiercely as a lioness defending her cubs. But things changed. She'd grown enough to gain a new perspective.

“Hey, cheerleader,” she began, channelling the Commander who'd given her a chance what seemed like a lifetime ago, “I'm going to be straight with you: part of me still wants to kill you, especially knowing that I'm already dead. Yeah, I admit, you're not as bad as I thought you were. We shared a few drinks, and we had a few laughs back on the Citadel. But I don't trust you for shit. Can't help that. What can I say? You're a fucking snake, alright?

“But, when we took down the Collectors, you showed me something, and that one thing is the reason why I think saving your life right now is worth it. And that's how much you love your sister. How much you gave up to keep her safe, without her even knowing you existed. I didn't understand it before. But I get it now. And that's why I know I can trust you to give my students a good life – a normal life,” Jack said, and she meant it. “Promise me. Promise me you'll take care of my students,” she implored her, blinking back tears that got lost in the sweat pouring down her face. “Treat them the way you'd treat your own sister. Do that, and we're cool.”

“Damn it, Jack,” Miranda didn't know what she hated more, Jack's foolhardy determination to be a bloody hero or the fact that, had she not been injured, she would already have marched over there, bashed her in the back of her head and forcibly dragged her out of the building. If she had just been in a better condition, Jack would already be safe. They wouldn't be having this conversation.

“Promise me, damn it!” Jack demanded, feeling her control beginning to slip.

“You can look after them yourself! Come on. On the count of three, we both let go. And you take my hand and run,” Miranda pleaded with her, in spite of the searing sting that shot through every nerve as she moved closer, biotics firing on overdrive as she reached out, extending her hand to Jack. She was within arm's reach. Fingertips away. “Just do it. Please,” she begged her, not sure how much longer her biotics could hold out. “We're getting out of this together. I won't leave you.”

For a second, it looked like Jack was considering doing exactly that, even if it meant risking them both. Miranda dared to feel hopeful that she'd succeeded in convincing her that she wouldn't take no for an answer. They would thrive together or perish together, just like the old days.

Who would have thought it would be just the two of them?

Suddenly, Miranda heard a sound above her, and felt a sheet of dust rain down onto her shoulders. Jack saw it too. The cracks in the ceiling were rapidly getting worse, spreading across the concrete, threatening to break like glass under the pressure. The roof was about to cave in directly on top of them. Jack's biotics were waning. She'd run out of time.

“Look out!” Jack yelled. Miranda threw up her arm and unleashed what little remained of her biotic reserves to brace the ceiling just a few seconds longer. She heard the roaring wave of destruction advancing towards her from the highest floors of the building. Gravity was about to catch up with them. Fast.

All of a sudden, a sonic boom cut the air. A beam of light shot into the darkness, and abruptly stopped. A hand grabbed Miranda about the waist. Green skin.

Her eye shot wide open with recognition. Shiala. And she was preparing a biotic charge straight back the way she came. Without Jack.

“Wait!” With her last burst of strength, Miranda lunged forward, just barely managing to seize the lapel of Jack's jacket and pull her forward. Reluctantly, Jack gave in, offering no resistance, letting herself be grabbed and dragged towards Shiala. She was still holding up a biotic field, although now it was serving more as a shield against the debris rapidly pelting down around them than a brace, doing little prop up the collapsing building.

Shiala took Jack in her other arm once she got within reach, securing them both as best she could amid the downpour of falling masonry. She crackled with energy, preparing for another charge.

“As soon as we stop, run,” Shiala warned them, her voice nearly drowned out by the cracks that tore through the foundations of the building.

At the last possible moment, she charged back towards the ramp. Less than a split-second later, the very place where they once stood was buried, engulfed in a tidal wave of rubble.

They came to an abrupt stop, a few yards short of the entrance ramp.

“Go!” Shiala pushed Jack ahead, almost throwing her. There were people waiting for them, countless hands reaching, frantically grabbing Jack and pulling her to safety as they all hastened to retreat and take shelter from the impending collapse.

Ignoring the pain in her still injured body, Miranda scrambled for the entrance, narrowly dodging the torrent of falling masonry. Her bad knee buckled, slowing her down. Shiala noticed that she was struggling. She reached back and physically pulled Miranda up the ramp by the scarf around her neck, the two of them dashing and diving out into daylight as the structure came crashing down behind them, barely escaping death.

Miranda didn't even utter a hiss at the blaring flashes of agony blazing through her body, too busy turning to look back at the disaster zone to care if she'd worsened her injuries.

A wall of dust all but exploded out from the collapsing building, swallowing everyone in the street. She raised her arm to protect her face as pieces of the broken building began to rain down onto the street. Shiala threw up a makeshift barrier, which diverted some of the shrapnel. Even so, a few stray projectiles hit Miranda in the side and in her good shoulder as everything that remained of the building fell down on top of itself, leaving only a pile of rubble. It sounded like a freight train driving straight into the ground.

It was all over in seconds. The silence set in, unrelentingly cold. The only thing Miranda could hear beneath the ringing of her ear was her own heavy breathing, and the thundering of her heart as she dared to look up through the dust cloud.

The building had been flattened. Everything had sunk into the basement levels.

A second slower, and that would have been her. A moment longer, and none of them would have survived.

As the dust settled, shock slowly giving way to a delayed sense of relief, Miranda glanced over to the familiar green face beside her, regarding her with silent recognition. She didn't know how or why, but Shiala had saved her life. And Jack's. And nearly killed herself trying to save people she barely knew.

Shiala looked back, as if sensing at least one of Miranda's wordless questions. “I heard you were in trouble,” she explained with a small shrug, somewhat awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. “I came as fast as I could.”

Miranda's head was still reeling, scarcely able to make sense of the fact that she was still alive. Incredulous though she was, she wouldn't forget what Shiala had done for her. At least this was one saviour Miranda would be able to thank.

Her thoughts were quickly shattered by a loud scream.

“Jack?” Miranda barely heard herself saying her name beneath the ringing in her ear. Her focus shifted. She grimaced as she pushed herself forward, past Shiala, trying to see what was going on.

“Teach? Teach?” One of Jack's students was leaning over her, visibly concerned.

“What's going on? What's wrong with her?” another of them asked the soldiers.

“Move aside,” Miranda instructed, wincing as she dragged herself over, pushing her way between bodies. She looked down and saw Jack writhing in agony, her muscles all tensed, her limbs rigid. She was wide awake, and conscious, even though every fibre of her body seemed to be seizing up in pain – so much that she couldn't speak.

Miranda had never seen anything like this before, but she understood immediately. She had felt a fraction of the weight Jack had carried on her back for so many minutes – the biotic energy she had to exert to keep that up. Her body had been pushed beyond its limits and, for lack of a better word, overloaded. It must have felt like being struck by lightning.

“Give her a sedative and a muscle relaxant, and get her back to camp,” Miranda quietly commanded, figuring the best thing she could do for Jack was help ease her pain, and knock her out for a bit while her body began to heal itself. A nearby medic didn't hesitate to follow her orders.

“Will she be okay?” the student Miranda recognised as Prangley asked.

“I can't make any promises, but for what it's worth, I don't think she's done any permanent damage,” Miranda replied, watching as the sedative began to take effect, and Jack slowly began to calm down, her muscles going limp as the tension gradually left her body. “If my best guess is correct, then the worst she'll have suffered is a torn ligament here or there.”

“We've got it from here, Director Lawson. We'll take her to the medical evac shuttle with the other critical patient,” one of the medics told her.

Miranda gave them a nod. “Make sure the rest of the kids are okay, too. They've been through a lot. We'll wait here while you do.”

“Sure thing.” They got to work carrying out her orders, loading Jack up on a stretcher, taking her back to where the bulk of the team was waiting. The medics began to evaluate the health of Jack's students. Everyone else within sight...needed a few minutes to recover. A building just came down in front of them.

That had been a close call. Too close.

With that, Miranda hobbled a few paces back from the wreckage, as if finding physical space would give her the room she needed to think. She ran her hand through her hair, releasing a long breath, processing what had just happened while the tinnitus blared in her ear. She let her forehead fall against the cold stone of a nearby building, her mind voicing a thousand different thoughts of how close she'd come to letting things go horribly wrong, and the words she and Jack had exchanged when it seemed like their lives were about to end.

It didn’t seem real. It had just happened, but it felt like waking up from a vivid dream. She couldn’t quite fathom the things that had gone through her mind (or hadn’t gone through her mind) in the intensity of the moment. 

No matter how much she and Jack clashed in the past, there was a special bond between shipmates, especially those of the Normandy. No matter how much they still disliked each other, they'd been part of something. Everyone on that ship had seen things no one else in the universe could appreciate or understand.

And Miranda had been given an opportunity to save her, one of those people who'd walked through the fire with her, and she had so very nearly failed. Hell, in a way, she had. By sheer luck, Shiala had been there to bail them out from a situation Miranda should have seen coming, and should have prevented. Her mistakes had nearly cost them all.

What was worse was knowing that, with so many others she had served beside, she wouldn't get that chance to even try. They were already gone.

How had she come so close to wasting not only her own life, but Jack's, and her students'? What had she been thinking? What was wrong with her? Why had she doubted herself when she knew going underground was the wrong call?

Not only that but...what if Shiala hadn’t shown up? Jack was right. There would have been no saving either of them, let alone both. Miranda would have thrown her life away pointlessly, all because she would have rather died than live with one more person getting killed on her watch - one more person she knew. Realising that about herself was...going to take some time to process.

“Director?” Yoshizawa's voice penetrated her thoughts. “Director Lawson, are you okay?”

Miranda blinked herself out of her strange stupor. It seemed like an eternity that she had been standing there in thought, but, when Miranda broke herself out of it, it had probably only been a minute at most.

“I'm alright. I'm unharmed,” she answered, gingerly shifting her body around. She'd lost her crutch in the building collapse. That was annoying. But the job always came before anything else. That was just how Miranda did things. She couldn't function any other way. “Make a report, will you?”

“Report?” Yoshizawa repeated vacantly, still dazed by the events that had just occurred.

“Yes, report to base. Eleven survivors rescued. Two in need of urgent medical attention.” Miranda hesitated, looking over at the students, and at Jack. They were all watching their teacher get carried off towards the same transport as Seanne was on, going to get the help they needed.

Yoshizawa followed her gaze. For a moment, Yoshizawa seemed to consider whether to extend some word of comfort to her after nearly losing someone she knew, as well as nearly losing her own life trying to rescue Jack, but she apparently thought better of it, carrying out the order without another question, leaving Miranda in peace, letting her dwell on her thoughts in private.

Miranda noticed a few sideways glances in her direction from her team, some quiet words being discussed about her. She wondered if they thought her heroic and brave for staying behind with Jack. If so, little did they realise there was nothing courageous about it. Her reasons had been entirely selfish.

Funnily enough, Jack was the only person who had seen that.

“Could somebody fetch me a bloody walking stick?” Miranda acerbically remarked in the general direction of some of the privates who were hanging around the scene. They all stiffened, visibly scared of her. One of them saluted and ran off to fulfil her request. Miranda rolled her eye as she shifted around to lean back against the wall behind her. “Incompetents,” she muttered, because it was easier to snap at them than kick herself for letting this disaster nearly happen.

“Are you sure you shouldn't go with them too?” Shiala asked, moving to Miranda's side, nodding her head towards the medics. Miranda hadn't even noticed that she'd followed her.

“I'm fine,” Miranda assured her. Shiala sent her a look, as if to make sure she was telling the truth. “Really,” she added, trying to sound sincere, not failing to remember that Shiala had seen the vulnerability beneath the mask before.

“Then I'm glad,” Shiala replied, taking up a position beside her, almost matching Miranda's stance against the wall. She sighed, admirably calm, but understandably a little shaken by her near-death experience. “You are a very impressive woman, Miranda Lawson, but it would be my preference if for once we could meet under less...dire circumstances,” she remarked, sensing a recurring theme.

Miranda uttered a chuckle at that, unconsciously rubbing at her injured shoulder, trying not to aggravate her amputation site. “If I bought you a drink later, would that count?” she asked. That was the least she could do to express her gratitude.

Shiala summoned a small smile, as if liking the sound of that. “It would be a start.”

Miranda looked out over at Jack's kids again. Some of them were crying, wiping tears from their eyes as the shuttle carrying Jack and Seanne departed, the aftershock of everything they'd gone through passing over. 

It was funny. In all honesty, Miranda couldn't say her heart hurt for any of them, or what they were going through. She understood it intellectually, but seeing people cry didn't elicit any emotion in her. She didn't possess that latent empathy. She didn't even know most of their names.

But, that being said, that didn't mean she didn't feel anything. It would have been extremely easy for her to choose not to care but, well...that Miranda had been left behind many months ago. She wasn’t that person anymore.

Her past self wouldn’t have, but Miranda did feel sorry for these kids, and what they'd gone through. As much as she could, at least. She knew what they'd endured. She understood their loss. She'd seen how much they cared about each other – how much they meant to Jack. She'd nearly watched them all die avoidable deaths, because she hadn't trusted her instincts to get them out of that building. Because Miranda had been indecisive and taken a fucking shortcut.

It wasn't right. It wasn't right to just...walk away from any responsibility she bore, like it had never happened. To wash her hands, and absolve herself. Not now.

It wasn't lost on her that they were all only a little younger than Oriana. She was twenty now. They were, what? Seventeen? Thinking of Ori was always the ticket to bringing out Miranda's softer side – a side she wouldn't have even had without her.

Miranda thought about the things Jack had said to her mere minutes ago, in the heat of the moment. About looking after her students, the same way she would look after her sister. Protecting them. Keeping them safe. Giving them normal lives.

Miranda wasn't good with other adults, let alone kids. She'd never really been one. Or had friends at that age. Giving Oriana a normal life had meant staying far away from her. But when Miranda set her mind to anything, she could do it. Already, she had begun to think about how she could pull strings. Make sure their needs were looked after. Make sure they landed on their feet.

There were nine of them. Ten, including Seanne. Ten teenagers. And Jack.

Eleven. Eleven people might be feasible. Temporarily, anyway. That was how many housemates Miranda already had, after all. It was worth trying, wasn't it? Worth seeing if it worked out. Worth trying to do the one thing Jack had asked of her.

Miranda had never made any promises to Jack, so, technically, she wouldn't have been doing anything wrong if she ignored that request. She didn't have any obligation to honour her wishes. And Jack was still alive to take care of her students herself. But, frankly, those technicalities Miranda might once have clung to in order to easily rationalise this all away and to absolve herself of any sense of duty didn't seem to matter anymore. She didn’t want to take a pass on this.

She was sure something could be arranged. Miranda had a lot of pull with Bailey. She was his best agent. Surely, if she spoke with him, he would be willing to make a few special accommodations for her. Anything to ensure she continued working for him for as long as possible.

Even if her plan worked, that would take a few days, at a minimum. Not to mention that Miranda's work out here in the wastes wasn't over yet. They needed somewhere to stay in the interim. Someone to look out for them while Jack was out of commission. Someone she could trust.

“Shiala, you've already done a lot for me, so I wouldn't want to impose by asking anything further,” Miranda began, trailing off momentarily. Shiala tiled her head, listening intently. “Those nine kids need a place to stay. I know you and the Zhu's Hope colonists probably don't have enough room, but you have connections in the green zone. You know it better than I do. If you could put them up somewhere, just for a couple of days, while I get their affairs in order...”

“That's not an imposition at all,” Shiala stated plainly, thinking nothing of it. “I can take them on my shuttle, get them there faster.”

Miranda had to admit, she was a little taken aback to hear Shiala so readily volunteer her assistance again. She was expecting she'd have to work harder to convince her, or trade her something of value. Not that she was complaining but...why did Shiala keep helping her? What was she getting out of this?

“I appreciate it. I'll make it up to you,” Miranda offered, since it only seemed fair. That and she didn’t like feeling at a deficit in terms of favours to call upon.

“You don't have to do anything for me.” Shiala shook her head, dismissing the thought. “You've already earned my help. And...well, if you'll have it...you’ve earned my friendship too,” Shiala added, a little more self-consciously, as if wondering if she was saying too much, or being too awkward.

Miranda blinked. Oh. Was that what this was? Was that what she wanted from this?

Honestly, she had never contemplated that. Miranda had a habit of viewing all her dealings with other people as inherently transactional, due to how she was raised. It was a mindset she was slowly learning to change, but it still caught her off guard every now and then to be reminded that sometimes people just did things for others, not because they were repaying a favour or because they expected something in return, but just because they cared and wanted to help.

That and, in her entire life, Miranda had met maybe five people who actually seemed to like her as a person and enjoy her company. One of them was her sister, and two of them were dead. Suffice it to say, she wasn't used to it.

“...Sure,” Miranda said, not sure how else to answer that. She didn't know Shiala particularly well, and in all honesty she saw her purely as a useful contact. But she saw no reason to reject her offer. That would just hurt her feelings, and more importantly sabotage the inroads Miranda had made with her as a reliable ally.

If this was all Shiala wanted in return for assisting her then Miranda could...try the friendship thing, she supposed. It was less effort than the blackmail she usually had to resort to when securing third party contacts. Presumably.

Shiala turned a more bashful shade of green. “Uh, well, that's great! I'm...glad. And I will...take you up on that drink,” she said in that awkward, stilted way of hers. It was like she was always torn between whether to speak with traditional asari formality, or whether to emulate the more casual ways of speaking the Zhu's Hope colonists would surely have taught her to use with humans by now. That and it always kind of seemed like she was talking through a headache.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Miranda replied. She wasn’t really, of course, but Shiala didn’t need to know that. In any event, she wasn’t averse to the idea. And lying to be polite was a skill she still needed more practice at, unless she wanted to continue alienating people with blunt honesty for the rest of her life.

Tempting, but no.

“Me too.” Shiala nervously cleared her throat. “I will, uh...see you around. Stay safe this time,” she said, taking her leave. Miranda gave her a parting nod.

Judging from her reaction, Miranda got the sense Shiala hadn't had that many friends before either, Zhu’s Hope not included. She wasn't sure whether that would make maintaining this proposed friendship extremely easy, since her standards would be low, or whether that made this a terrible idea, because neither of them brought anything of value to the friendship table. Maybe both.

Miranda watched Shiala approach Jack's students, introducing herself and offering them a place to say. It was funny. Despite how much she'd grown over the past year, Miranda was still at a distance from all but a select few – looking from the outside in at people who could form bonds so much more easily. People who could just naturally relate to others.

She would never be able to do that. She just couldn't.

At the end of the day, did it really matter? Did it matter that she didn't genuinely care about these kids as much as Jack did? Did it matter that she didn't honestly reciprocate Shiala's feelings of friendship? She was doing good by her actions, wasn't she? Doing what Jack had asked of her. Somehow, despite a complete lack of effort, managing to be someone whose companionship Shiala enjoyed. Those positive outcomes had to count for something, right?

Progress was progress. After all, who would have ever thought that Miranda fucking Lawson would become a person who risked her own life for Jack’s, a protector of lost teenagers, and a person who made friends? Jacob would have been proud of her, if not for the fact that he would never believe it.

It was also a hell of a lot easier to focus her attention on those things than to confront the fact that she still hadn’t dealt with the phantom faces that haunted her in her dreams, or the missing names from the Normandy, or the tinnitus that made trying to fall asleep at night into a marathon of audial torture, and how those things were affecting her even in her waking moments.

Miranda swallowed, not ready to face those problems. Not yet.

“Alright. Playtime’s over. Let’s get moving,” Miranda called out to her team assembled in the square. “We still have a city to clear.”

*    *     *

Miranda was definitely in a mood that day when she stormed into the Starboard Observation Deck, her arms folded across her chest. She sighed and went to the viewport, leaning with one arm against the transparent window. Samara continued to meditate, undisturbed. That earned a somewhat suspicious glance back over Miranda's shoulder.

“What?” said Miranda, eyeing her. “You're not going to ask me about the fight I had with Jack?”

“I was not,” Samara replied. “Although I did overhear it, as did everybody on this deck of the ship.”

“Great.” Miranda shook her head, flipping her hair back. “I know Shepard managed to talk her down, but she walked into my office and physically assaulted me. She's unstable.”

“She did. And that was wrong of her,” Samara acknowledged, pausing for a moment. “Did you do anything to provoke it?” she asked, sensing Miranda was perhaps...minimising her role in the argument.

“Provoke it?” Miranda echoed, offended at the insinuation.

“It is merely a question,” Samara said calmly. “Jack is a volatile character. However, she has been a member of this crew for a considerable time without incident.”

“So I must have caused it?” Miranda sarcastically shot back, rolling her eyes and shaking her head when Samara didn't respond. Typical for her to get blamed for everything.

Samara waited a few moments, perhaps considering that she had erred in taking the direct approach. “I am aware that she recently revisited a place of immense childhood trauma,” Samara began, choosing a different approach. “This must be a sensitive time for her.”

Miranda sighed and glanced down, her arms stiffly folded across her chest. She could acknowledge that. “I never said what Jack went through wasn't horrible. I know it was. I went to that facility. I saw it for myself. No child should ever have to endure that. All I said was that it couldn't have been Cerberus. Or, if it was a Cerberus affiliate, then someone clearly went rogue and made a terrible mistake.”

That had to be the case. Cerberus didn't play by the rules, but the organisation had just aims. It was the first place where Miranda had been praised instead of criticised – allowed to make her own choices and do things her way. The Illusive Man had been a better father to Miranda than Henry Lawson ever was. Sure, they walked a morally grey line and did things other people weren't courageous enough to do, but Cerberus wasn't malicious or cruel, merely pragmatic.

“Do you think that distinction was important to Jack?” Samara's question broke Miranda from her musings.

“What?” Miranda regarded Samara strangely, finding her difficult to read. Samara let the question hang, waiting for an answer. Miranda had to admit, this wasn't what she had expected, given their growing friendship. If anything, she was a little hurt. “I thought you'd be on my side.”

“You sought me out to speak about this. If you did so and did not desire my honest opinion on the matter, then you have grave misapprehensions about my character,” Samara remarked. She would never give counsel that contradicted her morals.

“So you agree with Jack?” asked Miranda. That was the last thing she would have expected from someone as rational as Samara.

“It is not a question of agreement. You are focused on 'black and white' instead of seeing things from her perspective. And, with the greatest of respect, you must be aware that you are in a superior position, because the subject of what Jack endured does not affect you. This was not your trauma. You are detached – you can think about your words and actions in this situation, in a way that Jack, for whom these events are intensely personal, cannot.”

Miranda snorted. “Are you saying I should lie to her?”

“As a Justicar, I could never advocate for dishonesty, merely mindfulness. Like you, I am a hard woman. I have many honest thoughts. In the past, I have often voiced them carelessly, with little regard for their effect on others. There is wisdom in appreciating when our opinions are best kept silent, lest our words do harm,” Samara thoughtfully replied.

“If she can't handle my words, that's her problem,” said Miranda, staunchly believing herself to be in the right. “We've all been through bad things. That doesn't excuse attacking people.”

“No, it does not, but your own experiences should enable you to understand her better than most,” Samara dispensed her sage advice, encouraging sympathy.

“Exactly my point, though; I'm not the way she is. We turned out completely differently. We couldn't be more polar opposites if one of us was made of anti-matter,” Miranda pointed out, extending her hand to emphasise that. “My father did horrible things to me too. I'm not saying that it was on the same scale as what was done to Jack, but you don't see me losing control of my emotions.”

“Do not compare her reaction to yours. This is not what is important,” said Samara, dismissing that distraction. “Instead, try to empathise with her perspective as to why your words were harmful. For example, imagine speaking to someone about what your father did to you.”

“You don't know what my father did to me,” Miranda interrupted her before she could get started on that subject. “Nobody does.”

“Yes, precisely. They do not know. However, you do,” Samara continued. “You lived through those experiences. You understand how they affected you. Now, instead of listening to you and acknowledging what you endured, imagine someone giving you their unsolicited opinions on your childhood or your father, even with regard to something that may technically be correct.”

“Like what?” Miranda asked, shrugging her shoulders. Why would she be bothered by something factual?

“For instance, your father created the genetic code that exists inside you and your sister. Clearly, he is a brilliant scientist,” Samara observed. “Here is a hypothetical scenario: you tell me about his abuse towards you in your youth, I acknowledge that what he did was wrong, but I keep repeating to you that he was a brilliant scientist. How would you feel?”

Miranda's lips pursed, and she released a slight exhale. God damn it. Leave it to Samara to express things in a way that actually made her see what she was talking about, and see things from someone else's perspective.

“I would think that you're diminishing what I went through and defending the people who did it to me,” Miranda acknowledged. “I would probably find that very frustrating. If you or Jacob were saying it, I might even feel betrayed for confiding in you only to have you speak up for him.”

She knew, because it had happened before. Niket. The man she'd trusted to help her escape. The one person she thought understood the effect of her father's abuse. Instead of taking her side, he had accused her of being wrong for sparing Oriana all of that suffering. He'd even implied that growing up wealthy was a fair trade for her father's callousness and cruelty.

Miranda sighed, dropping her guarded posture as she raised one hand to rub her forehead. “Okay, so you have a point. Maybe I did inadvertently provoke her just a little bit. Not that it takes much.”

“You made a mistake. You are learning from it,” said Samara, not judging her for her imperfections.

“I suppose I have to; I didn't exactly learn social skills growing up,” Miranda admitted, never particularly happy with it when she realised there was something she'd done wrong. Her father had made certain that she despised failure, as he always went out of his way to make her dread the consequences. “That's becoming more apparent, lately. Being in such close quarters here with so many non-Cerberus personnel on The Normandy has forced me to do more 'socialising' than I have in the entire last thirty-five years of my life. People can be so...”

“Alien?” Samara supplied, somewhat wryly.

“I was going to say 'complicated', but that works,” said Miranda, slumping down on the floor beside Samara, chastened by her lecture, no matter how kindly put and...astute it had been. “You're lucky I trust you that none of this is going to leave this room,” she commented, glancing over at her companion. “If anyone else heard me acknowledge that I have weaknesses, I'd never live it down.”

“Everyone has weaknesses. To demand otherwise is unattainable,” Samara reassured her.

Miranda bit her lower lip. She thought about how much she already knew concerning Samara's past, and how she had obtained that knowledge behind her back. She still felt something resembling guilt about it. It only seemed fair to open up about some of her own secrets, so they could be on more even terms.

“I wasn't allowed to have anything he deemed a weakness. My father, I mean,” Miranda confessed, finally broaching that subject that she had long kept to herself. “The problem was, his definition of 'weakness' was anything that didn't directly benefit him. That included making friends, or smiling, or having my own interests, or feeling pain, or crying. Everything you can imagine really. All I knew throughout my entire childhood was control. I had to do everything exactly the way he wanted when he wanted it, even if I had absolutely no way of knowing what that was, even if it changed from one moment to the next, which it often did. And that was what I had to do just to be tolerated. Never anything more than that. Not loved, or praised, or accepted. Just tolerated. Anything less than his version of perfection and I would be punished, in some form or another.”

As she spoke, she felt Samara's eyes on her. It made her slightly self-conscious. She didn't want Samara to think she was heaping her personal problems upon her, or throwing a big pity party. That wasn't her intent. She just thought...Samara might actually understand her a bit better, if she told her the truth.

“I'm not saying any of this for sympathy or as an excuse,” Miranda explained. She didn't want those things. She didn't need those things. “I think it's just starting to crystallise for me that maybe I never really stopped listening to his voice, or obeying his vision. Perhaps there are some things I need to...reassess.”

“Much as the trauma of her youth is the source of the anger you experienced from Jack, you too carry the scars of your past, as I do with mine,” Samara spoke up. “Jack may not yet be ready to move on from it, but I believe that you are, if you so choose. You have already come further than you may appreciate. You have the capacity to identify what you need to change within you, and you have the will to see it done. This may take time and self-reflection, but it is achievable.”

“That's what you were talking about before, with the meditation, wasn't it?” Miranda surmised.

“It was one reason I suggested it,” Samara acknowledged. “It is a means of pursuing this kind of clarity – identifying aspects of oneself that the rigours of life normally distract one from perceiving and analysing.”

Miranda paused and glanced down, swallowing. “...I suppose I should thank you,” she said. Samara's silent response indicated she didn't know what Miranda meant by that. “For seeing the best in me, instead of dismissing me for my faults.”

“Could I not say the same to you?” Samara replied.

That thought managed to bring a small smile to the corner of Miranda's lips. She had a point. Then again, it wasn't hard to see the best in Samara. It was quite touching to think that maybe Samara would have said the same thing about her.

Maybe that was just what it was like when you met someone you felt instantly connected to. Maybe that was just how someone knew a rapport like this was real.

*    *     *

It was a few days before Miranda was really able to get back to the green zone and get her affairs in order. The operation had been a moderate success. They had found outposts of survivors who had hunkered down during the war, found pretty much anything resembling usable supplies that was left in the covered area, and found some habitable buildings to start moving people into.

Nobody had seen Samara though. Miranda was trying very hard not to let that concern her. It helped that she had other priorities to focus on.

Shiala had kept her updated on the status of Jack and her students. Thankfully, Seanne was recovering quickly from her illness. She was still in care, but expected to be released in the next couple of days.

Jack was...well, doing a lot worse than Seanne. Her condition was stable but her biotics had damn near destroyed her body. Almost as bad as the shuttle crash had destroyed Miranda's. No permanent damage, most likely. But her muscles were in a lot of pain, still slowly repairing themselves. From the sounds of things, it would take a lot of time and rehab to get her back to where she was.

Miranda was able to confirm all that with her own eyes. It wasn't hard to find Jack, even among all the beds, and all the sick and injured. She didn't look great. There were clear bruises where capillaries had burst beneath her skin. It did look like she'd been in a crash.

Jack must have sensed someone watching her, obviously not coping much better with bed rest than Miranda had. Bleary eyes glanced over in Miranda's direction, immediately turning with irritation when she realised who was standing there.

“Who the fuck let you in?” Jack groaned. Miranda was the last person she wanted to deal with when she was like this.

“It's a field hospital, Jack. Not much in the way of security.” Miranda thought about reminding her that she was known around here and people let her go wherever she wanted, but she had the good sense to realise that Jack would probably want to kill her if she said that. “How are you doing? Are you okay?”

“Fuckin' hurts,” Jack remarked, draping her arm over her eyes, hoping Miranda would just go away. “But I still look a damn sight better than you, fuckface.” 

That was debatable, honestly. “You're lucky you didn't tear yourself apart,” Miranda said quietly, moving closer. She was trying to be civil and understanding. “Not just limb from limb, but on a cellular level.”

Jack didn't respond, deliberately ignoring her in an effort to get Miranda to leave.

Miranda rolled her eye. So much for her efforts to be kind to her. Obviously her presence wasn't wanted. With that in mind, it was probably best to just cut straight to the point.

“Listen, I've spoken to Bailey. They're starting to house priority personnel in apartments in the city. That means Alliance officials, and people involved in the recovery effort. Civilians and non-essential personnel are the lowest priority. You'll be lucky to get a look-in on a place to live even a year from now, unless all of you are prepared to work for it. And, no offence, but you're not really in a condition to do that,” Miranda set out the facts.

“Why the fuck do you always talk like you're answering a question nobody fuckin' asked?” Jack grumbled. Despite her complaint, she reluctantly opened her eyes and shifted her head to listen to what she had to say.

Sensing she had her attention, Miranda continued. “I tried to convince Bailey to make an exception for you and your students, but he can't. Not unless someone who warrants high priority quarters chooses to take you in. Someone like me.”

“I'd sooner fucking drink bleach than live with you,” Jack shot that down.

Miranda had expected Jack to say that. “Okay. But what about your students? They don't have spare beds at this field hospital, Jack. There's barely enough room for them to breathe if they wind up in tent city. It's not safe for them out there by themselves. You don't know anyone else here. And, right now, you can't exactly look after them. Not without help,” Miranda explained. Much as she visibly hated it, Jack couldn't object to that. “I've already made the necessary arrangements. I can cancel them if you want, but I'm prepared to take them in, with or without you.”

“...Why are you doing this?” Jack asked suspiciously. It sounded like Miranda was being sincere, but it was hard to tell. Miranda never did anything for anyone without an agenda behind it. Unless it was for her sister. Or Jacob. Not for someone she didn't care about. Not for Jack.

Miranda pulled up a chair and sat down beside her bed. “There are only four of us left, Jack. If not for Shiala, that number would only be two; neither of us would be here right now. You nearly died the other day. And it would have been my fault if you had,” Miranda stated frankly. Jack had held an entire building up to keep her alive, and broken her body doing it. “That was why I couldn't leave you.”

Contrary to popular belief, Miranda had never hated Jack. Disliked her, yes, but the hatred had been entirely one-sided. Truth be told, she'd never cared about Jack enough to hate her. She hadn't cared about her at all. Not back then. In a way, that was a lot worse than hate. Jack would probably take it that way, if she knew. And Miranda had the decency to feel a tinge of regret about that, in hindsight.

Most of her memories of Jack were of conflict, or mutual avoidance at best. But Miranda had never set out to antagonise Jack, deliberately or otherwise. She hadn't sought her ought for anything, good or bad or neutral. Not once. She was completely uninterested in her. Apathetic. She didn't give Jack any unprovoked attention at all. Not that it mattered one way or the other. The fact that she was a Cerberus Operator had been cause enough to make her enemy number one.

Miranda hadn't batted an eye, save when things got violent. To her, not getting to know Jack was fine, and her hostile attitude had said more than enough about how little she was worth anyone's time.

Jack had loathed her. And Miranda had found her a nuisance at best. An insignificant insect who would be brushed aside as soon as the mission ended.

But she'd been wrong about her, hadn't she? Jack had been right about Cerberus the entire time, and Miranda had been too blinded by loyalty to believe her. And, while Miranda had been on the run from The Illusive Man and his agents, Jack had turned her life around. She'd set out to give the kids in the Ascension Program a far better shot at life than she ever got herself.

Miranda had done some growing of her own as well. She'd been cold and callous back then. Not just towards Jack but towards everyone. Whether she'd realised it or not at the time, she'd still been living in her father's shadow, letting the way he'd raised her shape how she treated others.

But things had changed. They weren't the same people they once were. Maybe they were never the people they'd assumed each other to be. But they were both working on being better people. And they'd lost almost all of their other comrades along the way.

Maybe Jack still wanted to hold onto her grudge, and maybe she was justified in doing that. But Miranda was tired. She wanted no part in this anymore. She couldn't carry on pretending her past grievances with Jack meant a god damn thing to her anymore. She didn't have the energy. If there was ever a time to bury the hatchet and move on, this was it.

“You said if I wanted to make up for all the bad history between us, and all the atrocities Cerberus committed against you, the only way for me to do that is to look after these kids the way I would look after my own sister,” Miranda recalled, knowing how much the students meant to Jack. “So...Okay. This is my answer. I want to honour that. I can't promise I'll be any good at it, but I intend to fulfil that bargain. This is me trying to make things...better.”

Jack looked at her for a long moment, a cold, hard stare, studying her face for any signs of duplicity. She didn't find any. Miranda wasn't lying. Her motives may have been self-centred, but that was to be expected. Jack would have been suspicious if they weren't. At least that reasoning made sense as to why Miranda suddenly wanted to be a less shitty person. For her, this was progress.

“...I never thought I'd say this, but you're actually fucking right about something,” Jack admitted, willing to put personal feelings aside for the well-being of her kids. “Living in a real fucking apartment is better for them. Better than being out here in this depressing shithole. So I'm going to tell them about you and what you’re offering. But I'm not going to force them. It's their choice.”

“Okay.” Miranda nodded. That was it, then. This was really happening.

She didn't want Jack to sense it, but she had mixed feelings about what she was getting herself into. Looking after teenagers was not high on her list of things she wanted to do. And she knew she was taking on a lot of responsibility. But this had been the one thing Jack had asked of her when she thought she was going to die. Doing her best to deliver on that request was the least Miranda could do, especially since Jack had saved her life that day.

“What about you?” Miranda asked, not sure whether Jack would be joining them. “I know we don't exactly get along, but you're welcome to stay too. I'll just make sure to hide the bleach before you do.”

That remark elicited a snort. “Yeah, about that. I don't think I'm gonna be going anywhere for a while,” Jack glanced down at herself.

Miranda gave a small, understanding smile. “I was in your position not long ago. I promise you, it will feel like an eternity. And your rehab will take time. But you'll be healthy enough to stay somewhere else sooner than you think. It doesn't have to be with me. Jacob is keeping my old bed free in case you'd prefer that.”

A conflicted look passed over Jack's face, a little bittersweet. “So I wouldn't be with the tykes?” she realised aloud.

Miranda suddenly recognised a possible flaw in her plan. “Jack, I'm not trying to separate you from them. I'm just offering them a place to stay. A roof over their heads. They're at liberty to see you whenever they want. And vice versa.”

“I know, dumbass,” Jack cut her off. “I'm just...I'm not sure they'll take it that way.”

Miranda softened. “You nearly gave your life to save them. If they don't know by now that you love them far too much to abandon them...well, I don't know, maybe tell them?” Miranda suggested. That's probably what Samara would have advised. “I don't know. I'm not good with people. Maybe don't listen to me on this subject.”

“I don't listen to you about anything,” Jack assured her, only half-joking. It hadn't escaped her notice that Miranda really was making an effort. Having some semblance of humility. Admitting that she sucked at something. The old Miranda never would have spoken to her like this. “...I'll think about it. I've got time. I've got some healing to do. I'll decide my living arrangements later.”

“Sure.” Miranda nodded, accepting that. “...Well, I'll start getting the apartment ready. There's still a lot to do, so...we'll talk another time.” Miranda elected to take her leave, getting up from her seat.

“Hey, Miranda.” Miranda paused, wondering if that was the first time Jack had actually called her by name. She turned and looked back. “We're not starting over at zero. It's too late for that. But I know you had nothing to do with what Cerberus did to me. And, if you're serious about trying to be straight with me, and you're not just going to throw my kids to the wayside the second you feel better about yourself, then...fuck it, I'll give you a shot.”

“This is you trying?” Miranda inferred. Jack didn't say anything, but nor did she protest. Miranda gave a nod, satisfied. She could live with that.

There was no chance they could ever become friends. But coexisting relatively peacefully would be good enough.

*    *     *

“Finally making use of the library, I see,” Miranda remarked, catching Samara in the act of reading.

Samara cracked a small smile as the doors closed behind Miranda. “I do reside on a human vessel. It would seem a terrible waste to remain ignorant of your arts and cultures when you have been so gracious in sharing these resources with me. That is if you do not object.”

“Knock yourself out,” said Miranda, not at all surprised that Samara appreciated what humanity had to offer based on their previous conversations, but glad for it nonetheless. Her long lifespan had not robbed her of her curiosity and adventurousness.

Despite their reputation for benevolence and co-operation with others, some asari Miranda had encountered could be incredibly patronising towards human cultures. Even if they welcomed other species into the fold, there were some who looked down on humans as effectively a novelty – like lost children taking their first steps on the galactic stage, whose beliefs and habits were cute, but would soon be a thing of the past once they were 'enlightened' by more ancient races. Thankfully, Samara wasn't like that. Her respect for other species was genuine and unfeigned.

“How many books have you read so far?” Miranda inquired, noticing that she was currently nearing the end of her copy of Moby Dick.

“Fewer than I would have liked,” said Samara, almost with a hint of self-deprecation.

At that point, EDI piped up. “Justicar Samara has requested my assistance in selecting texts from a diverse array of authors whose works were written in different cultural and linguistic contexts, as well as different genres and time periods.”

“This is correct. Thank you, EDI.” Samara nodded her head at EDI's holographic interface, which continued to operate silently. “I have heard that your species is far more diverse and varied than those who have come before. I did not wish to make the error of inadvertently and arbitrarily narrowing the scope of human literature available to me. This could lead me to draw false inferences, such as misconstruing humans as more homogeneous than you actually are.”

“Read anything by an Australian author yet?” Miranda asked, impressed by the care and consideration Samara had put into her decision to explore human literature for fun. That was thoughtful of her.

“Not at this time, no,” Samara confessed.

“You're not missing much.” Miranda shrugged nonchalantly as she joined her on the couch, not even sure there were any Australian texts in their small library. Out of curiosity, she brought up the database on her omni-tool. It contained a record of all available books aboard the ship and showed who had checked out what and when, so nobody could get away with not returning them.  Unsurprisingly, Samara was the most frequent user of the library, closely followed by Kasumi.

“I am sure that is not the case. I have yet to encounter a text that I have not enjoyed the experience of reading. Although I confess that, at times, certain details may have been lost on me,” Samara admitted as she closed her book and put it aside, acknowledging the effect that her own limited understanding of Earth and human history had on her comprehension of these stories.

Miranda tried not to smirk. “You had to ask EDI to explain to you what a whale is, didn't you?”

“She was very informative,” said Samara, which elicited a chuckle from Miranda. “Do you read?”

“When I have time, yes,” Miranda answered. It was also one of the few things her father had allowed her to do as a child, since he saw intellectual value in it.

“Are there any books you would recommend?” Samara asked, implicitly trusting her taste.

“Sure. I could send you a list, but I'm not sure that my preferences would be along the lines of what you're looking for,” Miranda acknowledged, earning a curious look from Samara. “For the most part, I don't read fiction anymore. There are some exceptions, but I rarely enjoy it.”

“I see.” Samara took a moment to contemplate that, choosing to seek elaboration. “Is there any particular reason why you tend to dislike it?”

“Well, on merit alone, ninety percent of all content produced is not worth consuming. As for the remaining ten percent, the vast majority of novels I've read are like being locked in a room listening to the inane thoughts and dialogue of annoying characters while the author either beats you over the head with their uninformed opinions or waffles on aimlessly while avoiding making anything that constitutes a worthwhile observation or statement,” Miranda explained, remembering how irritating she had found so many texts she was forced to study in her youth. “Even when the ideas and concepts are intriguing to me, I find it’s often ruined by the characters or the writing style getting in the way.”

“What makes a character annoying to you?” Samara pressed, curious about her comment.

“They make stupid decisions, they think things that I would never think, and everything is just a frustrating waste of time while you wait for them to cut the nonsense, realise the obvious and get to the point of the plot,” said Miranda. She hadn't anticipated an interrogation of her views on fiction. Fortunately, her frustrations were well-founded, and she never struggled to defend her positions.

Samara stared at her like she wasn't entirely certain whether or not Miranda was being facetious. “...Is that not, perhaps, the intent?” Samara considered aloud, prompting Miranda to glance up from the library database. “If the story reached its conclusion from the outset, bypassing all conflict and circumventing all faults and failings possessed by the characters, then would the author not have lost the opportunity to explore the – what is your term for it? – human condition?”

“It's not my bloody condition,” Miranda dryly remarked.

“You understood my meaning; do not be coy,” said Samara, mildly amused by her retort. “One of the benefits of literature over and above any other artform is that it allows you to experience life through the perspective of another, even down to their most private thoughts. It prospers empathy and understanding, even for those characters who are deeply flawed, as we all are. It is why I personally find that I have learned more about other species through reading their stories told in their own words than from any other source – certainly far more than I have gained from the detached academic writings of an asari anthropologist.”

Miranda shrugged, seeing her point. “I'm glad that you get so much out of it, but I never have,” she said honestly. “I can appreciate the themes of all these works on an intellectual level and the skills and techniques they've used in their writing, but I've never connected with a book or related to a character the way I've heard other people say they have. Fiction just doesn't resonate with me. Perhaps we're built differently like that.”

“Perhaps,” Samara replied, though if she had thoughts to the contrary she did not express them. “What is your preferred form of artistic expression?”

“Music,” Miranda answered without hesitation. “Not 'songs' per se, but I'm not as rigidly confined to the great composers as everyone seems to assume. I like my operas and my symphonies but I have a flair for the experimental as well. The theories and formulas that underpin music are there for a reason, but brilliant minds know how to break them in just the right ways.”

“Do you play?” asked Samara.

“Not since I was sixteen. But yes. I was classically trained in piano. I also did two years of violin before my father objected. Didn't like hearing me practice.” Miranda didn't feel the need to share that he'd ripped the violin out of her hands and thrown it across the room to break it in front of her because he'd decided she hadn't mastered it quickly enough and therefore wasn't taking it seriously. It wasn't relevant to the conversation and was more personal than Miranda cared to get.

“That is unfortunate,” Samara spoke sympathetically, evidently inferring why it was that Miranda had stopped playing nearly twenty years ago, given it held such a strong association with negative memories of her father. “One day, when the time is right, maybe you will play again.”

“I think you're the only one who wants to hear that,” Miranda commented, finding the thought of her other crewmates' reactions comical to ponder. “The rest of them out there would assume I was showing off and hate me for it.”

“Most likely. But you do not strike me as a woman who constrains herself based upon the opinions of others,” said Samara, with a knowing twinkle in her eye.

“Do I make it that obvious?” Miranda joked, unfazed by her unpopularity.

“Nevertheless, if the opportunity arises, perhaps you should consider it,” Samara quietly encouraged. “Your devotion to your work is admirable, but you should not squander the time you have by avoiding things that bring you joy. A day may come where you look back upon your years, and find them filled with regret for chances you did not take, and simple pleasures you let pass you by.”

“...I guess you'd know,” Miranda conceded, although in her heart she knew she had no intention of following through on playing again. Too close to home.

With that, Samara returned her attention to the book cradled in her hand, content to sit with Miranda in silence, as they often did. Miranda watched her for several seconds before speaking.

“Which one was your favourite?” she asked, prompting Samara to glance up at her in search of clarification. “Of the works you've read, I'm guessing either Don Quixote or Romance of the Three Kingdoms,” Miranda speculated. They seemed to her taste.

“Astute choices. But there was another I preferred. A poem, in fact,” she said. Miranda arched her brow, curious. “You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars. You have a right to be here. And, whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be and, whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul,” she recited.

Miranda's lip quirked in recognition. “That's Max Ehrmann, isn't it?”

“Yes,” Samara confirmed, meeting her gaze. “There is much wisdom in those words. I would do well to remember them when I stray. So too would it benefit many others to hear them.”

“You may have a point,” Miranda agreed, appreciating that Samara found meaning in those words, even if they did not particularly strike a cord with her. “It sounds like the sort of thing you could reflect on in your meditation.”

“I have,” said Samara. “Every day.”

*    *     *

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 29 [0%]

At the top of the stairs, still caught up in each other, you hadn’t moved from his embrace. Despite the angry buzzing in your pocket. Until, finally, his kisses were not enough to silence it. At least what it meant. “I have to go. Natalie is blowing up my phone.” Angry that you’d slipped out without notice, no doubt. And that you were holding up the jet. Already knowing that’s who it was without even looking. It wouldn’t do well to be late for the Expo meeting.

“Agent Romanoff.” Quickly corrected.

Your eyes rolled up into a close and defeated nod. “Yeah.” A little pat on his cheek and a kiss to the other. “I’ll try to make it back tonight.” That was a lot of air time but you really wanted to spend the evening with him after such a huge emotional release. Tony Stark beating death a second time really deserved some type of celebration.

“I could always fly out to you.”

“Don’t stress yourself.” One more little kiss and you turned to leave only to realize, “Oh- I left my bag in your lab.” Too overwhelmed by his new discovery, and him too, that you’d followed him upstairs without thinking.

“I’ll get it.” Gone in one moment and back the next. “Try to be more careful. You never know what duplicitous characters are lurking around.”

It didn’t exactly feel like he was joking. “Worried I’m going to get robbed?” Unsure of what he was trying to get at.

“Not so much.” Grinning. Teasing? About what you had no idea. Either way, you really needed to go so you gave him one last kiss and left again.

                       --------------------------------------------------------

 On the jet the air was very tense. Or maybe you were imagining things. Either way, you had your attention solely on your laptop, drafting up a whole new batch of emails to go here and there, answer whoever was bothering to waste your time with things you’d explained a million times, getting press releases ready… life never stopped.

“You and Mr. Stark are very good at not following orders.” Natasha said very suddenly after an hour in the air with no other words between you. Her tone quiet.

Giving a little shrug, you kept your attention on the screen. “We don’t march in someone else’s line. Sorry if that’s upsetting.”

“I didn’t say it was a completely terrible thing.” At this you looked over the top of your screen to see her smiling. “It’s not the best, considering you’re trying to get conscripted, but it isn’t the worst, either.”

She had been trying to pull some similar act back at the house. It was probably better to put it to rest. “You know I don’t trust you, right?” Arguing with her about the nature of your supposed contract with SHIELD now, not that you knew what it even was, was pointless. You’d make good on your word if you thought it was necessary. But that didn’t need to be said.

“That’s very smart.”

The lack of sleep was getting to you, unable to keep your hand from raising up, rubbing over your eyes and then sliding down. “I’m not interested in this sly secret agent act. If that’s all you’re made of, we can go back to being quiet and professional.”

It was your surprise that she seemed slightly taken aback- briefly- though not even registering on her face. But you felt it. And with it came a moment of minute hesitation. All while the smile never disappeared. She was good at this. And that’s exactly why you didn’t trust her. So-

While you had the edge, you decided to use it, dropping your eyes back to your screen. “And if you’re not used to people calling you out, Agent Romanoff, we really should keep it brief.”

“More than. But I’m not used to someone like you.” Her tone had grown pensive but you didn’t trust that, either.

Still, while she seemed even remotely interested in being honest, you looked up at her again. “Fury came at us with some huge pitch about a grand world of superheroes. You’re going to tell me he’s a liar?”

“Not a liar, no.” Shaking her head. “But we’re used to- ...people like me. Blood and sweat. Ready to prove their mettle. Good with weapons. And not so much...”

“So you are calling Fury a liar, then.” Getting what she was trying so delicately to broach. When she raised a delicate brow at you, you closed your laptop. “He seems to think he can help me. With what you don’t even know how to classify.”

How cohesive was this SHIELD? How big? How much did everyone know? Who ranked where? What did they want? You had too many questions.

“That’s not my job.” Firm, suddenly.

“And what is your job, Agent Romanoff?” Squaring your gaze on her.

“For right now? You and Mr. Stark.” Sliding back into sweetly casual, leaning back on the couch with her arms along the back.

“And after that?”

“That’s classified.”

A puff of air left you, a little twist of your mouth, a dissatisfied smirk and a shake of your head. “Back to quiet and professional it is.” Opening your laptop again.

It went quiet again. For a long while. Twenty minutes at least. Until, “Why did you get out of the car on the track in Monaco?”

You thought about ignoring her. Now she was digging. For what you had no idea. Your fingers remained in a steady rhythm, typing even as you spoke. Really trying to show her how little consideration she was being given. “Wouldn’t you have?” The thought you’d had as the news had hailed you as some hero.

“Not necessarily, no. You were unarmed- for all intents and purposes- and dying wouldn’t have been of much use to Mr. Stark, would it have? You could have approached it from a different vantage point- but maybe it was because it was Tony that you acted so rashly-”

“I would have gotten out of that car for anyone.” Hands stilling. You sure as hell weren’t going to let her accuse you of being bold only for people you had a personal stake in. “There was no other vantage point.” Super secret agent garbage terms. Garbage thinking. “Sitting for two more seconds to calculate the risk- how cold can you be? If this is what SHIELD is made of, I’ll have to write a check instead.”

“Why did you get out of the car?” Pressing again.

And it worked. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

“Even at the risk of your own life?”

“Without a single doubt in my mind.” Not that you’d had time to think about it, but even if you had, it wouldn’t have mattered. That was what was right. Tony had needed help. Even if you’d died, if you’d helped it would have been worth it if it had bought him ten more seconds to get himself out.

No amount of questioning would change your resolve on that. Never.

The two of you held that stare until she relented and dropped her eyes with only a careful nod. After that your attention went back to the incomprehensible email you’d been angrily writing. After a few more minutes of silence, she spoke again. “They won’t let you just push money on them.”

“What are they going to do? Take me to super secret spy court if I don’t deliver? I’ll have to get a super secret lawyer in that case. Who’s your favorite pick in legal?”

To your surprise she actually giggled at this, and when you chanced a look, her hand was over her mouth, hiding her quick smile. All gone in a matter of moments. But she caught you looking. “You know- has anyone ever told you you and Tony are an awful lot alike?”

“Please don’t say that.”

Yet another surprise this late in the game, the two of you shared an actual genuine laugh together. “Alright. Not a lot, but a little bit.”

Even though you’d gone back to paying attention to your laptop you couldn’t resist an eyeroll. “I guess can believe it. Maybe I’ve just spent too much time with him. Picked up some of his mannerisms.”

“He seems to be picking up some of yours.”

You couldn’t help your smile. “I’ll count my small victories where I can.”

The laughter in the cabin was probably the realest thing there had been between the two of you since you’d met.

                         --------------------------------------------------------

 Touchdown was a nightmare. Reporters were everywhere and you weren’t quite sure why. Although with the questions they were shouting, it likely seemed like a Hammer setup. Of course it was. All paid to be bright and buzzing, grilling you about why there were rumors it was so hard for him to get a stage, “Well, the Expo is running all year. What’s his rush?” Incorrect answer, but you couldn’t help yourself. About the only soundclip they managed to get from you as you were whisked into a meeting in the Gold Member lounge.

Entirely unnecessary and unimportant. Timetables and schedules- really, was no one running the Expo while you weren’t in NYC? You’d have to think about moving some people around if they were this bothered about things. Expense reports you’d have to look over later. The Expo had barely been running for a month, yet for one reason or another, things were not moving along smoothly. Which was upsetting, and fell on you.

But, truly, it was Tony’s fault for pushing it up so quickly. This would never have happened if things had gone according to plan and you’d opened in October. But that ship had sailed. And Tony’s reasons for moving it up so soon… not exactly easily publicized. You’d just have to take the heat on this one and look the other way. Resolved to not be mad about it anymore.

In between two different coffees and a change of scenery came the meeting with Burt who had less than stellar news for you about pursuing the military’s theft of Tony’s property. There was no real way to impress upon him how important it was to get that back, to go after them to the fullest extent of the law. How could he sit there and tell you that Stark Industries had the best lawyers in the country and then not be able to go after them? ...maybe you were making it hard.

Because you didn’t want to specifically go after Rhodey…

Another conversation for a different time, something you asked Natasha to put on your docket. If Rhodey would even take a phone call from you. There probably had not yet been enough time for feelings to die down, but if you could just explain to him the reality of the situation, Tony’s situation, you were sure he’d listen. Hoped. You hoped he’d listen.

By the time the car pulled up to the Expo, Justin was scheduled to go on in fifteen minutes and it had grown dark. Just this one last thing. This one last thing- and then probably just asking to be left alone for ten minutes so you could make some personnel changes, then you could go home. Go home to Tony who by now had to have had it all figured out.

Alive and well, how about that? Now if you could just get back to finding your normal…

Escorted through the crunch of the crowds, you and Natasha took a seat a few rows back from the front just as the lights overhead in the dome dimmed, his graphics flashed on the screen in the back, and like the fool he was as the backlights started moving, he began dancing his way on stage. Applause was moving around you. You did not participate.

“Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about. Thanks for coming.” Stopping at his podium, glancing out, locating you with a grin and a point. The eye roll could not be helped. “Ladies and gentlemen for far too long this country has had to place its brave men and women in harm’s way. But then the Iron Man arrived and we thought the days of losing lives were behind us.”

This was already off to a bad start. Was Justin really planning to bad mouth Tony at the Stark Expo? He couldn’t be that stupid, right?

“Sadly, that technology was kept out of reach. That’s not fair. That’s not right. And it’s just too bad.” You’d made damn well sure every ask that had come across your desk from Hammer Industries for any piece of Stark Tech had been thoroughly smacked down. And if he was just about to do a presentation about how much he hated you and Tony, you thoroughly welcomed it. You’d go right up on stage and tear him a new one if you had to. In front of everyone.

Again, he just could simply not be that stupid, right?

“Regardless it was an impressive innovation, one that grabbed headlines the world over. Well today my friends, the press is faced with quite a different problem. They’re about to run out of ink!!”

The weak applause told you all you needed to know. Did anyone even really want to be here? Two interns came running on stage to take his podium away from him and he awkwardly put his hands on his hips. “Ladies and gentlemen, today I present to you the new face of the United States military!”

Your blood ran cold.

No.

Oh no.

That couldn’t be. There was no way-

“The Hammer Drone!” Patriotic music came up as b-roll footage of the military ran on the screen in the back. The floor opened up on stage, “The Army!” Rising from beneath, a set of bulky humanoid mech suits appeared. Pilotless- with a round glowing circle powering their core.

Arc Reactors…

As the next three sets came on stage- blind to what branch Justin was labeling them to, you found yourself on your feet. There was no way that he could have that. Even if Rhodey had handed over the Mark II to his superiors, which no doubt in the world that he had- for them to replicate an Arc Reactor-in less than a day?- that was unfathomable.

“HAMMER!”

Natasha stood, putting a hand on your arm.

Justin cast a wayward glance your way but ignored you as he went on, “But as revolutionary as this technology is, there will always be a need for man present in the theater of war. Ladies and gentlemen, today I am proud to present to you the very first prototype in the Variable Threat Response Battle Suit, and its pilot Air Force Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes!”

The Mark II all decked out with a big gun over the shoulder came up, but you were already on the steps to the stage. “Shut this down now!”

How?

How? How could he have dozens upon dozens of Arc Reactors?

You knew how.

“Ah- ah… ladies and gentlemen- … Stark Industries’ newest CEO-” Justin fumbled as your rage brought you racing across the stage, just about ready to knock him the fuck out.

“What are you doing? Who worked on those suits?” You wanted him to say it. You knew there had been something wrong that day.

“What- what uh- I did, of course-”

Rhodey put a hand up. “Step down. I’m here on orders. Don’t cause trouble. Please.”

The rumble of jets sounded off, growing closer in seconds and the entirety of the dome looked up to see Iron Man coming in hot and heavy. No. No.

Tony cut his thrusters to land almost too dramatically, and the crowd got on their feet, stunned silence at your antics halting to give raise to uproarious applause. Walking closer, “We got trouble.”

“Vanko-” You knew it, but you’d put it away so that you could focus on everything else. If you’d only just paid a little more attention- had been able to split your focus-

“Oh, so you listened to all my voice mails? I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour.” Coming closer he put himself between you and Rhodey, raising a hand to the crowd.

“Vanko- why are you saying Vanko- Vanko’s alive??” Rhodey, thoroughly confused.

Tony raised his hand to the crowd. “Give ‘em a wave.”

Justin, finally snapping from his stupor, stepped away from the three of you, clapping his hands together. “Hey alright! A double delight!”

“All these people are in danger, we gotta get them out of here.” Tony’s words only caused the bubbling over of your anger.

Reaching for him, you snatched the back of his jacket and yanked him around. “Where is Vanko!”

He just blinked at you, playing wonderfully dumbfounded. “Wuh? W-who?”

“Enough with the games.” Tony was far more controlled than you were. Then again, he was in the suit. The sound of the gun on Rhodey’s shoulder mounting sliced the air and all three of you whipped to look at him. “Is that you?”

“Whoa- whoa- I’m not doing that- that’s not me! I can’t move- I’m locked up!” As if on cue, every other gun on that stage came down, every mech raising their arms, aiming at the audience. “Get outta here! This whole system’s been compromised!”

“Let’s take it outside!” Tony doubled back, thrusts picking up as he launched into the air.

You didn’t have time to look after him, instead going to the edge of the stage, shouting into the crowd, “Go! Go!” Then taking a leap down. Just as Tony broke through the top of the dome, gunfire sounded off, followed swiftly by the shattering of glass. You threw your arms up to try and protect yourself as it rained down, holding steady for just a few seconds.

Raw panic took over every last person in that stadium as they took into a frenzy. As you looked up, you saw Justin running along the side stage and into the back. Fighting back hundreds of other people, you steadied yourself in a wide stance, forcing a breath in and then out, hands coming forward again- maybe just used to the feeling now- blooming focused calm across the theater.

Shouts in the immediate area died down, buried instead by the march of hurried footsteps. You turned away from them to follow Justin just as those suits were hopping down from the stage, spraying gunfire into the crowd.

Not today.

 You would not die today.

 Natasha appeared by your side and you only gave each other a knowing glance as you pushed past security and into the back. Justin and his tech team were arguing with each other. “He’s locked us out of the mainframe!”

“Where is he?” You demanded, all steady fury.

“Please-” Justin threw his hands up at you. “Go away. Just go away! I’ve got this under control!”

“You call people dying control?!” You grabbed the lapel of his jacket, ripping him from his casual stance as you pulled him forward. “You tell me where he is right now!” Vanko had not only provided Justin with these murder droids, but was now controlling them to do just that. He needed to be stopped.

“Look-!” Justin was screaming at you. “If you hadn’t jumped on stage- if your guy hadn’t showed up- none of this would be happening right now!” He shoved you back. “So go away! Get out of my sight!” Leaning down to his crew, “Listen- we have to get these bitches out of here-”

Justin was lucky that Natasha took him by the arm and slammed him on the table. Because you might have done something far worse. Raising his arm to the point of breaking she growled at him, “Where is Ivan Vanko- you tell me right now.”

“Van- Vanko- he’s- he’s at my facility-...” Hissing out in pain.

She didn’t even look at you as she stormed off. Going to handle it, you presumed. Probably more in her wheelhouse. It left you in a difficult position. Tony was taking fire from Rhodey and droids, Natasha was going off to apprehend the man behind it all-

Taking your phone out of your bag, you were determined not to let the other man involved get away with this. If that was all you could do for now. 911 picked up the other line and you gave your name first, followed quickly by, “The Stark Expo main pavilion is under heavy fire. I need the NYPD here. Civilians are hurt and need help. Flushing Meadows.”

Justin waved his hand at you. “No no no- no honey- don’t call the cops-”

You knocked his hand back. “She didn’t break your wrist but I will. Get away from me. Step aside.” Pleased only slightly when he finally did what you asked and took a couple steps back. Leaning down to the man working the console, “I need everything. Give me everything.”

Ivan Vanko, yes, still alive, operating as a shadow worker for Justin Hammer. No surprise there. You’d worked that out within moments of seeing those suits. Maybe it would have done you better to actually have looked at the papers for Justin’s presentation- then again, you doubted he’d been that broad with it. No time to blame yourself. That would have to be later. Justin had broken him out of prison and faked his death. He was operating out of Justin’s warehouse, not too far from the Expo in Queens.

This little story was taking too long to tell.

He’d been under tight security, but communication lines had gone down- most likely the guards were no longer alive. The drones were half of Justin’s design, hardware only improved by the vacating of any need for a person. And the software…

“He built it from the ground up?” No surprise there either. Justin’s tech was garbage. It always had been.

“Yeah, and we can’t get through the locks. Each set of drones is communicating in its own language.”

“Just pick one and stay focused.” This wasn’t exactly your forte without critical assistance from JARVIS- the officer on the phone alerted you to that they had squads out and were coming soon. You hung your phone up. Tony had his hands full. There was little else you could do.

Yet again, a wave of Justin’s hands made an appearance too close to your face. At this point you thought about just biting him. “Have you tried Russian? Why don’t you try Russian?”

“Computer languages you fucking moron. Can you get away from me?! Go sit in the corner!” Having long since lost your patience. Maybe it was the sound of missiles and screaming that had gotten to you. Imagine that.

Too close to the fray. Who were you? Just some small woman in the middle of it all…

“I’m here.” Natasha’s voice came from the console. “I’m rebooting Rhodey’s suit.”

Only the slightest wave of relief came. “Can you take them all offline?”

“One thing at a time.” Nodding, even though she couldn’t see you, stilling your breathing.

“Is Vanko there?” She must have traveled to Justin’s warehouse- where he’d supposedly been holed up.

“Gone before I could get to him.” Shit. No good. Where to…? “Reboot complete. You got your best friend back.”

“Thank you very much, Agent Romanoff.” Tony’s voice from the computer urged a fresh bout of calm, about as calm as he sounded in fact.

“Well done on the new chest piece. I am reading significant higher output, and your vitals all look promising.” It sounded like the two of them were old friends.

“Yes, for the moment, I’m not dying.”

Despite the situation, you smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

“Oh- hello, honey, fancy meeting you here.” It was amazing, how in control he sounded despite the fact that he had to have been fighting. Life or death. Yet so casual.

“Hey,” Natasha said suddenly. “Save it for the honeymoon, will you? You got incoming Tony. Looks like the fight’s coming to you.”

“Wonderful. Hey, honey?”

You perked up. “Yes, dear?”

“Get some reservations to that place I like. We’ll do dinner at ten.”

Both lines went out and you made yourself take a deep breath. He seemed like he had it under control. Even though Natasha had just said more were coming. He could handle it. He and Rhodey would handle it. Things were okay. Things were going to be okay… your focus had to remain on crowd control now. About the only thing you could do.

Just on time, some officers in blue walked in through the back. Standing up straight, “Him.”

“Excuse me?” Justin was just on the line of shouting.

One of them unhooked his cuffs. “You’re being placed under arrest.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Place your hands behind your back, sir.”

For some reason, there was no joy in this. You only looked on coldly. Whatever he had coming to him, he deserved. More than deserved. And even then it would never be enough. You would have rathered suffered his incompetence for the rest of your life than gone through what he’d done tonight. He’d hurt real people. Innocent people. All by looking the other way so he could pretend he was better than Tony.

“I get it. I see what you’re doing.” He was looking up at you as the snap of the cuffs sounded. “You’re trying to pin this on me, huh? That’s good. That’s very good. You’re starting to think like a CEO. Taking out the competition. I like that. You think you’re making a problem for me?” The officer pulled him, walking him out, but he strained to put himself right in your face. “I’m gonna make a problem for you. I’m gonna be seeing you again real soon.”

You stared him down. Unafraid and silent. He deserved no more of your time. No more of your effort.

 Justin Hammer had never made good on anything in his life. You weren’t about to start believing in him now.

[daughterofgaston]

A Broken Heart Mended

Request:  do you think you could do an imagine with Carlos and the reader where the reader went through a breakup with let's say Chad and they sneak out to the woods after curfew to cry and let out their emotions then Carlos appears wanting to comfort them letting then know that they deserve better(eventually leading Carlos to admit his true feelings)

Warnings: Break ups, angst, swearing

Words: 1,502

A/N: Due to the fact I just went through a break up I want to write this because EMOTIONS :( 

You lay in your dorm room sobbing as you held onto a stuffed bear that your boyfriend-er, ex-boyfriend had bought for you, throwing it across the room after a few minutes and grabbing your pillow to cry into it. 

[Y/N]? Is there anything I can do for you?” Evie asked softly as she cautiously made her way over to you, rubbing your back and looking at you with sad eyes. 

You shook your head, sitting up and looking up at Evie, eyes red from sobbing and your makeup smeared. “I just want to be alone.” You said, hiccuping as you grabbed some tissues and wiped your eyes, and Evie frowned but gave an understanding nod, kissing your head before leaving to go back to her own dorm since curfew had finally taken effect, and you laid on your bed and sobbed. 

You had no idea how long you lay there crying until finally you just wanted out of your room. You couldn’t stand it anymore- that room held too many memories of you and Chad so you couldn’t stand to be around them much longer. You grab your shoes and throw them on, uncaring of the fact that you were in your pajamas and it was nearly midnight. 

Walking out of the room, you did your best to remain quiet so you wouldn’t risk waking someone up or getting attention from someone who was still awake. Never before had you snuck out, but at that moment you didn't care. You were heartbroken. 

You walked until you got to your favorite spot in the woods, sitting down on the cold, damp ground and laying back, allowing the tears to run down your cheeks and soak into your hair. You did your best to muffle your sobs, but you just couldn’t help it. You rolled onto your side and just cried.

Thinking back, you couldn’t understand why you had allowed yourself to fall so head over heels in love with Chad Charming- he was a known heartbreaker. Even worse than Jay! At least Jay never allowed girls to get too close to him so they wouldn’t get actually hurt- just disappointed. 

You thought back to the events that day...

Walking down the halls, your dress swished against your legs. You and Chad were supposed to go on a date that evening, so you had spent the past couple hours getting ready. You smiled to yourself as you walked to his dorm, thinking about how the past nine months had been going great with your boyfriend. 

Yeah he was a dick, and yeah he could be incredibly selfish and insensitive, but he had his good points too. When you were hurting, he was right there and he knew just what to say. He knew to hold you while you cried and let you vent while you were upset. 

His kisses were sweet and his arms were strong, and you were sure that maybe you found the one you were supposed to be with forever. Until you opened the door to find him loving up on some other girl; you didn’t recognize her. In the moment of seeing him pull away from the beautiful girl with sunkissed skin, you felt your heart freeze in your chest. 

��[Y/N]-” Chad started, although he was too late. You were already running back down the hallway sobbing, heading straight for the one person who always had your back- Carlos. But you couldn’t find him. 

Carlos...your mind drifted to the shy son of Cruella. He told you this likely would happen, he told you that Chad was not to be trusted with a fork let alone your heart. But you didn’t listen to him. Told him he didn’t know what he was saying, that because he grew up on the Isle he didn’t know how to trust. 

Your relationship with him became damaged after you told him that you were dating Chad. And you couldn’t believe you allowed that. Now you needed him and you didn’t know where he was. But why would he care? He had every right to just say ‘I told you so’ and leave. 

So you were extremely surprised when you saw the boy with the white tips approaching you with a bowl and spoon in his hand, also in his pajamas. 

“I...heard what happened.” He said softly, sitting down next to you and helping you sit up, and he frowned when he saw your tear stained face, holding up the bowl, which you saw was full of ice cream. “I brought your favorite.” 

“Cookie dough.” You said, sniffing and wiping your eyes as you reached over for the bowl and took a small bite, then you looked at him. “Why are you here?” You asked, your chest heaving some as another sob raked through you. 

Carlos frowned and moved so he was by your side, wrapping an arm around you and you leaned into him. “Because I can’t let you be out here by yourself while you’re upset...Chad is a fucking idiot. Taking advantage of you like that. You’re so good, [Y/N]...you deserve so much better. I just...I just..” He thought for the words. “I want to send him to the Isle for hurting you like this. It’s villainous.” 

Hearing him say that surprised you. Carlos never said he wanted to send anyone to the Isle- that place was terrible. So the fact that Carlos was now saying that shows just how upset he was with the not so charming Charming.

“Carlos, you don’t mean that.” 

“But I do. You deserve someone who just the mere thought of doing something that would hurt you would make them hate themselves. You deserve someone who will treat you like the queen you are, who will wipe your tears and mean every word that they say. They wouldn’t tell you what you want to hear, but what you need to hear. You deserve a true king, not some boy playing king.” Carlos said, rubbing your back and looking at you, and you looked up at him. 

You sniffed some as you looked at him, setting the bowl down and laying your head on his shoulder and starting to sob. “I should have listened to you, Carlos. You were right...you were right and I was wrong and I was stupid.” You cried, holding him as your shoulders shook with your sobs. “Why was I so stupid?!” You yelled into his shoulder, getting makeup on his shirt. 

“You are not stupid, [Y/N]! Don’t say that! You just...you fell for his stupid spell.” Carlos said as he held you, running his hand through his hair and his heart breaking as he heard your sobs. He kept quiet until you no longer sobbed, waiting until you pulled away before he wiped your tears with his thumbs. “[Y/N]...you probably don’t want to hear what I’m about to tell you...” 

“Carlos, I don’t-” 

“Please, just let me finish. Maybe now is the wrong time to say this...but seeing you like this has made me realize I can’t just sit back and watch as another guy does this to you. Seeing you hurt like this...I can’t do it. You deserve to smile all the time with someone...” Carlos said, frowning some as he looked at you. “I love you, [Y/N]... I know that now may not be the best time and you’re hurting and I don’t want you to act rashly but I need to tell you this because I don’t want to sit back as you fall in love with guys who will only hurt you.” 

You sat there in shock, your chest hurting from sobbing and your eyes heavy. Your head ached and your body was weak. You wanted to sleep, but you listened. 

“I understand completely if you don’t want to start anything because you are so upset with this...just take your time. I will be right here for you. And if you don’t love me like I love you, I’ll understand that too. But I’m here for you, always. I’m in love with you and seeing you hurt like this...I can’t handle it.” He said, that being the end of his little monologue, and after some thought, you leaned over and gently kissed his cheek. 

“Carlos...I love you too. I really do...I thought I was just a best friend to you.” You said honestly, speaking softly since your voice ached from sobbing. “And right now...I’m not ready for another relationship. But if you’ll wait a couple more months...I would love to try a relationship with you.” You told him, needing time to heal your heart from this heartbreak before starting something new, and Carlos smiled. 

“I’d wait a thousand years for you, [Y/N].” He assured you, leaning forward and pressing his lips to your forehead. You knew you had a long road ahead, but you had Carlos right by your side every step of the way. And he’d never steer you wrong. 

[cisco-fics-4-all]

The Road to Recovery

This was an anonymous request, for “Get out and don't come back" & "I regret it all" the reader has a thing with Reverb, and they've been trying to help him settle into his new life on Earth-1 (let's pretend that sexy beast never got the hand), but one day he pushes the reader too far and hurts them (like emotionally) one too many times” so here it is! Hope you all like it!

The clock on Cisco’s phone read three forty am, his eyes narrowing into sleepy slits of confusion, as his brain registered the early hour coupled with the knocking on his apartment door. He had no messages, no missed calls, not even so much a a facebook poke waiting for him in his notification bar, so who on this earth was knocking on his door at the ass crack of dawn? He fumbled out of bed, hissing at the feeling of the cool wood floor beneath his bare feet. The knocking continued, semi-insistent with it’s pattern of three, then silence, then three again; the blows landing on his door sounding like they were a mixture of fisted, and open palmed hits. “I swear to god, if this is Barry again, I’m gonna bar him from coming here anymore,” Cisco muttered, padding into the entry way with a yawn. He stopped before his hand reached the knob, a sudden feeling washing over him that had him wide awake in seconds, a familiar vibrational wavelength that could only belong to one person. He opened the door, to find his doppelganger, stood in his trademark leather jacket and pajamas, hand halfway raised to knock once again. “You’re awake,” Francisco stated, half surprised and half grateful, “I didn’t know if...I thought I might have to vibe my way in...” he muttered quietly, letting his hand drop back to his side. “It’s hard to sleep when someone is banging on your door,” Cisco replied warily, eyeing Francisco’s unusual attire, “you do know what time it is right?” Francisco shrugged, “Somewhere between midnight, and sunrise I imagine,” he answered, looking down at his flip flop clad feet guiltily, “I’m sorry I woke you, I just...I don’t really have anywhere else to go.” Cisco sighed and nodded, “Yeah, I know, I felt that,” he gestured between them vaguely, then sighed again, “well, come in, we can talk about the details after I make coffee,” he turned away from the open door, heading back into his apartment as Francisco followed him and shut the door. If Cisco had been anyone else in the multiverse, having his formerly dead doppelganger from another universe show up at his door at near four in the morning would have been and insane occurrence, but at this point, weird was his new normal. The formerly dead thing had been sorted out months ago, once Francisco finally decided it was safe, he’d come out of hiding and sought Cisco and the team out to make peace with them. How Francisco had been hiding out on the same earth as him, without him noticing, Cisco would never know, but somehow he had, and he even had a girlfriend living with him much to Cisco’s chagrin. As Cisco poured the last of the water into his coffee maker, and pressed the button to start it brewing, he found himself wondering what could have happened to bring Francisco to his door, the nervous vibrations humming off his doppelganger bringing up increasingly worrisome scenarios. He turned to Francisco, his double sat staring thoughtfully at Cisco’s kitchen dining table, his brow creased in a way Cisco recognized from his own habits. It was still odd for Cisco, seeing his double so domesticated, it was a little like watching those youtube videos of people with exotic cats as pets, he wondered just how safe it really was to approach him, despite the fact that he had been the one to approach him first. He sighed, taking a seat across from Francisco at that table. “So what happened?” he asked, watching Francisco’s eyes come come back into focus before looking over at him. At first, Francisco was silent, his eyes flicking over Cisco’s tired face as if he wasn’t sure what to tell him, his hands fidgeting nervously in front of him on the table top, a stray soy sauce packet pinched between his thumb and forefinger idly. “What do you think happened?” he finally asked, dropping the packet and flicking it away, “you can feel those sorts of things now, can’t you? Your powers have progressed that far?” Cisco narrowed his eyes. Leaning back in his seat he replied, “I can feel basic emotions, but I’m not a mind reader,” he crossed his arms over his chest as he added, “and avoiding the question is just gonna get you kicked to the curb, so I advise against it.” Francisco winced, “You’d turn me away even after I told you I have nowhere else to go?” he asked, testing. “You have somewhere to go,” Cisco countered easily, “you could go home.” At that Francisco laughed bitterly. “So getting kicked out means something else on this earth does it?” he asked sarcastically, “well then please, do explain it to me, I’m all ears.” “She kicked you out?” Cisco asked in return, un-phased by Francisco’s trademark sassy defenses. Francisco scowled at him, “What did you think happened? I just went for an early morning stroll, and got lost?” “Knock it off,” Cisco barked, startling his double slightly at the sudden outburst, “you came to me for help, you can’t deny that because I’ve already felt it rippling off of you,” Cisco’s gaze was hard as he looked over at Francisco, his mouth set in a thin line when he wasn’t speaking, “so far all you’ve done has avoided telling me what happened, and then fighting me every time I ask questions. I can’t help you if you fight me, so you’re either gonna knock this avoidance tactics bullshit off, or I will send you home, whether Y/N allows you back in or not.” Francisco looked like a moody teenager, caught in his own nonsense but refusing to admit to it. He reached for the abandoned soy sauce packet once again, squishing it between his fingers. “We got into a fight,” he began grudgingly, “ Y/N and I we...we were...well I was...” he paused gritting his teeth before starting again, “I was trying to make myself a sandwich, I had everything all set up for it, I got the peanut butter open, put it on the bread, everything was fine, but...” he trailed off, Cisco frowning at him as he tried to figure out what a sandwich had to do with getting kicked out. Francisco was struggling to go on, his own mind telling him how stupid this all was, now that he was viewing it in hindsight. He had acted rashly, lashed out without a real cause, other than his own feeling of inferiority. Francisco glanced over at his double, for a split second, debating whether he should just tell Cisco nevermind and just get up and leave, but he knew that wouldn’t solve anything, so he stayed and took a deep breath in. “I couldn’t get the jam open,” Francisco explained quietly, and he could feel the ghost of his frustration at that time welling up in him, he could remember how it had burned up his spine, into his brain, how it had whispered to him that he was weak and useless, how he couldn’t even open a jam jar, how sad. He swallowed the remnants of that feeling down, hating himself for listening to that dark little voice, after everything you’d done for him. Cisco was trying to be supportive, he really was, but he felt like he was watching some foreign film without subtitles. He could tell by Francisco’s facial expressions, and the emotions rippling off of him that the jam jar was a major plot point here, but without more information, he was clueless. “What happened next?” he prompted Francisco gently, hoping things would become clearer soon. Francisco sighed, holding the soy sauce packet in his left hand, his dominant hand...or at least it used to be. “You remember what it’s like to die, don’t you Ciscito?” he asked, his voice sounding oddly far away as he stared at the soy sauce in his hand. Cisco glanced over at his coffee pot, deciding he wasn’t nearly awake enough for Francisco’s brand of backwards emotional expression. He stood up, nodding though Francisco wasn’t looking at him, “Yeah I do,” he confirmed, grabbing a pair of mugs from his cupboard, “it was the catalyst to my powers, remember?” he poured two cups of coffee, adding a little sugar and powered creamer to his before bringing both cups over to the table. He set the plain cup before Francisco before taking his seat again, steeling himself for the rest of the conversation to come. Francisco didn’t even seem to register the coffee, or much of anything outside of his own thoughts. His eyes remained locked on the packet of soy sauce, but he couldn’t see it. He could feel it, he could feel how his fingers pinched against it, feel the effort it took the muscles in his arm to maintain pressure, felt the dull ache in his shoulder and chest where a vibrating hand had once been. He closed his eyes, flinching imperceptibly as visions of Zoom’s masked face flashed through his mind, then he opened them and looked across at Cisco once again. “It hurts doesn’t it?” Francisco asked, dropping the packet to the table, “I’m not entirely sure how much of the pain you remember, but-” “I remember all of it,” Cisco interrupted him, “I remember right up until the point my heart stopped,” he resisted the urge to rub at his chest, his hands clasped securely around his coffee mug as he added, “and yeah, it sucks, but I’m a little confused as to what this has to do with you getting kicked out.” Francisco nodded, “I’m getting to that point,” he assured Cisco with a half smile. He glanced down, finally seeing the mug Cisco had given him, carefully turning the handle, so that he could lift it with is right hand, “You died, but Barry reset everything, so you got off scot-free in a way, the only lasting damage you have is in your mind,” he lifted the mug, sipping the warm liquid before making a face at it’s bitterness, “not that your mental scars are any less valid, but mine aren’t quite so...avoidable.” Cisco gave him a confused look, and looked as if he were about to ask something, but Francisco held up a hand to silence him. “I used to be left handed,” he explained, wiggling the fingers of his left hand in the air for emphasis, “but ever since having a hand shoved through my chest, my left arm has been significantly weaker,” he set his mug down, turning it again so he could lift it with his left hand, “Y/N keeps telling me that her healing work was just the foundation, I need to work at it to bring the strength back, but,” he lifted the mug, holding it up for a few moments before his entire arm began to shake with the effort, “it’s rather hard to believe her when I can barely lift a coffee cup.” He set the cup down, stabilizing it with his right hand before its contents spilled anymore. Cisco swallowed thickly, his instinct to rub his chest winning out this time, his hand smoothing over the area he’d touched a thousand times, realizing Francisco was right, he kinda did get off scot-free. He couldn’t imagine what it would have been like, doing everything he did for the team on an almost daily basis, but having no strength in his dominant hand? He was smart, sure, but relearning all his years of engineering skill with a different hand? That sounded like a nightmare. “Now, back to the Jam jar,” Francisco continued, although he could tell by Cisco’s sympathetic look that he’d already figured part of it out. “I couldn’t get it open, so naturally I threw it against the wall,” he almost laughed as Cisco’s eyes grew wide, but he was too ashamed of himself to do so. “I know it was stupid, it was just a fucking jam jar for fuck’s sake, but I just...I couldn’t handle it, I got angry. Y/N was asleep, but when she heard the glass shattering, she ran to see what was wrong,” he smiled sadly as he remembered it, you skidding into the kitchen, eyes wide as you surveyed the jam coated wall. “I of course, was embarrassed that I’d done something so stupid,” Francisco went on determinedly, “so when she asked me what had happened, I...well  I snapped at her, I told her it was her fault for closing the jar so tight, and accused her of forcing me to use my weakened arm to make it stronger.” Cisco nodded, finally understanding how everything tied together. “She denied it, because why would she do that? It was an absurd accusation. But I was just so angry! I told her she was lying, I told her she was trying to force me to get stronger because I was useless otherwise, and then I accused her of saving me against my will-” “You what?!” Cisco interrupted incredulously, but Francisco pressed on. “I accused her of saving me against my will, and that was it, that was the final straw. She told me to get out right then, ‘get out and don’t come back’ she said, so I...I did.” Francisco didn’t even know he was on the verge of tears until he felt them burn his eyes and fall, he looked over at Cisco desperately, silently pleading for him to help him somehow. Cisco sat frowning in confusion once again, wondering how things had escalated so fast during this one fight. Then it dawned on him, Francisco wasn’t one to share his feelings with most people, hell Cisco didn’t even know about the weakness in his arms until tonight, and Francisco had been living on this earth for ages practically...this clearly wasn’t the first fight. “How many times has this happened?” he asked, keeping his voice as soft and calm as he could, not wanting to upset Francisco anymore than he already was. Francisco shook his head, “I don’t know,” he replied before sniffling loudly, “I’ve...I’ve lost count,” he could barely see through the tears now, “more times than it should have, more than she deserves, and I regret it all, every single time it happens I regret it immediately but I just...I don’t know how to stop myself? It’s like I can’t control myself when it happens, and it’s awful, and I hate myself for it, because she deserves so much better, but what she got was me.” He wiped at his eyes, but the tears kept coming, his head was swimming with them, and his chest was so tight he could barely breathe. Suddenly he felt solid arms circling around his shoulders, and a rush of familiar comforting vibrations hit him like a warm gust of air. He felt so small and weak in Cisco’s embrace, but he clung to his double regardless, needing his compassion more than his pride could protest. Cisco had hugged his double on instinct, not really knowing what else to do. Francisco was an enigma to him a lot of the time, with his undoubtedly horrifying past, and his personal of seemingly endless self confidence in front of other people, it was hard to tell what the real Francisco was like underneath it all. But watching his double break down, watching all the outer shell strip away until he was just a friend in need, sitting in his kitchen, sharing coffee with him...Cisco realized they were more a like than either of them had ever realized before. Thats when his instincts to hug had kicked in, playing off his own desire for contact when he was most in despair. He hugged Francisco until the crying stopped, until he could feel his vibrations ease from their frenzied waves of panic and desperation, to a softer pattern of sadness and need. “You’re not useless,” Cisco told him, feeling Francisco flinch in his arms as he broke the silence. Cisco rubbed his back gently, bringing him slowly back from his breakdown. “You’re not useless,” he repeated again, “you don’t have to think of yourself that way anymore. You don’t have to be the most powerful meta on this earth to survive anymore Francisco, you just have to take things one day at a time, like the rest of us.” He carefully released his double from his embrace, squatting down to be level with him, smoothing some errant hairs back from Francisco’s face as his double tried to turn away. “I don’t know how Cisco,” Francisco replied in a hoarse whisper, “I don’t know how to turn it off, I don’t know how to separate myself from Reverb...I can’t.” “Yes you can,” Cisco countered, “you survived for so long, without friends like I have, without anybody. You did that, you became strong because you had to, and you can do the same thing now,” he took hold of Francisco’s chin and turned his face to look at him. “You’re a Ramon,” Cisco reminded him with a smile, “not only that, you’re a Francisco,” he flashed him a cheeky grin, “we’re the strongest ones in our family hermano, you can get through this just like I got over my fears and became Vibe...and this time you don’t have to do it alone,” he held out his fist, knuckles out, waiting to be bumped, “you’ve got me,” Francisco hesitantly bumped Cisco’s fist lightly, making Cisco smile again. “What about Y/N?” Francisco asked, following Cisco’s gaze as he stood up beside him. Cisco pat his double’s shoulder, “Y/N is on your side too, obviously, I mean she saved your life dude,” he reached over and grabbed his coffee mug as he shrugged, “we can resolve that later though, because she deserves a chance to calm down, and you need some rest,” he set his mug down beside Francisco’s and yawned, “now, I have some spare blankets and pillows for the couch, is that gonna aggravate your arm or-” he stopped mid sentence as the sound of Michael Jackson’s ‘Man in the Mirror’ echoed through the apartment from within his pocket. Cisco pulled his phone out, frowning as the caller ID read Francisco’s name. “Why are you calling me?” he asked, showing Francisco the phone. Francisco frowned as well, shaking his head, “I’m not, I left my phone at home.” Then his eyes went wide as both he and Cisco realized who it was. Francisco dove for the phone, but Cisco shoved him back in his seat and answered before he could grab it. “Y/N? Hey, yeah he’s here already...hmn? Oh he’s ok...well not ok, y’know, he’s upset but- no he explained it all to me...yeah...he told me he was an idiot – no he said he was an idiot, I just didn’t disagree...yeah I know he’s not, but try telling him that when he’s bawling his eyes out...yes...no he’s not crying anymore...you wanna talk to him? Are you sure? Alright,” Cisco moved the phone from his ear and offered it to Francisco, “she wants to talk to you.” Francisco took the phone from him, as carefully as if it were a glass egg. He held the phone up to his ear for a moment, listening to you breathing, it sounded like you had been crying too. He took a deep breath, “Y/N?” his voice was soft, choked. You greeted him hesitantly, sweetly, your voice making his heart skip a beat, then before he could stop himself, he was apologizing in a rush, full tears and everything, and Cisco could only watch and shake his head. When he wasn’t being his usual cocky self, Cisco decided, Francisco could be pretty adorable. He motioned to Francisco that he was going to go back to bed, and left to let him sort things out with you on his own. You two would be ok, Cisco could feel it in the vibrations running off Francisco right now, so strong he could almost vibe it.

[golddaggers]

Best Friends Forever

Reader x Klaus Mikaelson

*Requested smut, read carefully ;)

Imagine: You are angry because you ex seems to be really hitting it off since you two broke up. In order to help you through it, Klaus Mikaelson, your best friend, shows up in your place. There, he decides to come clean about his own feelings. After that, things get a bit hot in your room.

Word Count: 3043 

A light rain was pouring outside, matching your horrible mood. Today you had the misfortune of bumping into your ex boyfriend, Matt Donovan, and, to make things even worse, he looked like he could not be any happier, babbling about his growing success. Like you wanted to actually know that! Urgh! And that son of a bitch still felt in the right to comment about your life and fucking laugh about it. So what you had been going out and drinking more? It was none of his business.

Taking a deep breath, you turned on the radio. Music helped a lot to discharge the anger and keep your emotions together. Right now, it was exactly what you needed. Luckily, your girl power song was on: Beyoncé’s hit Single Ladies. A smile fastly appeared, as you started to sing and dance along.

“Acting up, drink in my cup! I can’t care less what you think.” You swayed your hips to the tune and rolled your eyes, wishing you were telling him that. “I need no permission, did I mention?”

“I take you are in a good mood, Y/N.”

The singing stopped and strangled scream came out instead. It took a few seconds for you to realise who had barged into your room, invading your privacy. After the fear went off and Klaus was laughing out loud, you frowned, angry. 

“This is not funny. I could have had a heart attack.”

“You’re a banshee, I’m pretty sure you are able to predict your own death.” You narrowed your eyes. “I’m just kidding! I came back town yesterday and heard Matt was at Mystic Falls as well. Thought I’d come to see how you were doing.”

“I’m doing peachy!”

“Do you want me to kill him?” He questioned, sitting next to you. “Because I’d gladly do it.”

“No. I don’t want his blood on your hands too. My friends already hate you enough.”

He chuckled at your remark.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m just mad he still feels like he has some sort of right over me. Matt even laughed when I said I had met somebody new.”

Klaus’ face twitched when you said that, almost as if he was jealous or something. But you had to be imagining it, since he was madly in love with Camille O'Connell, a bloody bartender he met back in New Orleans and the one responsible for stealing him away from you. Argh, you hated her and your bad luck with boys.

“Have you?” He asked, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

“No… But I wish I had, so I would go out and show him off to everyone.” You laughed and he soon followed. “Enough about me now. Tell me, how is everything in New Orleans?”

“Fine, I guess, although I wish you would come to live with me. You’d be safer plus I wouldn’t have to be missing you all the time.”

“Aw, if that’s your way of telling me you like me, I’m loving it.” You hugged him, nuzzling on his neck. “Yet, I’m pretty sure you didn’t miss me so much.”

“Is that so, love?”

“Yeah, I bet you kept yourself busy hooking up with that Cami girl.”

Klaus giggled and stroke your hair, squeezing your body against his. It felt good to be there, inside his arms, feeling all the warmth he could provide. The best place on earth. Suddenly, you were taken from your thoughts as the blond pushed you off a little, just enough so he could see your face and run his fingers through your cheeks.

“You shouldn’t worry about that.”

“Of course I should, she has you all to herself.”

“No, she doesn’t. Cami was just a fling. Someone to pass the time with.”

“I thought you were in love with her…” You bit your lip, confused.

“Oh, I assume Elijah and you have been talking.”

“Nah. Rebekah may have slipped the information that you were in love when she came to visit me.”

“She speaks the truth. But it’s not Cami the woman I love.”

“Then who is it?”

“You’re so silly, darling.” His voice came out soft as silk. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m in love with you! Since the fucking day you walked into that bar and amazed me with your courageousness. I knew I had to have you in my life.”

A breath got stuck on your throat, which made a loud squeal come out. The whole situation was just too much to swallow at once. Your mind even rewined his speech, trying to make you understand what he had just said. Klaus Mikaelson loved you. His funny little human/banshee friend. A girl crazy enough to stand up for her own principles and give him witty responses. The only one able to love him despite his awful mood swings and dreadful need for revenge. Yes, despite all the times he hurt your friends and plotted evil plans, you still wanted him to be a part of your life. Heck, this was so messed up! Maybe you had some sort of Stockholm syndrome or something like that.

“Y/N?”

“W-What?”

“Breathe.” Only then you realised you were not breathing and was starting to feel dizzy. You let air fill your lungs, helping everything to work properly as before. “Feeling better?”

“You love me?” Your voice was still coming out as a high pitched sound. “How can you love me?”

“I can’t explain it… But I do. I love you. And I am selfish enough to need you by my side.”

“This is…”

Klaus did not give you time to finish the sentence. He smashed his lips against yours, his hands grasping your hair and pulling it. For a split second, you considered stopping him. You were not able to do that, though. Matter fact, it took only a couple of seconds for you to wrap your arms around his waist and kiss him as badly as you wanted.

“Klaus… We need to… Come on, help me a bit.” Your voice came out between gasps and his attempts to keep kissing you. He surrendered and let you free of his spell.

“I’m tired of holding back. You have no idea how hard it is to hide feelings.”

“Why did you do it, then?”

“You were with Matt.”

“So? That never mattered to you before. I heard what you did to poor Tyler just because Caroline loved him.”

“It’s… Different. I never loved her like I do with you. I wanted you to be happy.”

“OK, so we have caring and altruistic Klaus at once? I’m going to pass out.” He laughed and you joined him. “You know I love you too, honey. I just thought we were platonic. Like, friends and nothing else. Me, a nut job who had the guts to challenge a thousand year old original vampire would never have a chance with someone like him. Like you. So I settled with human and ordinary.”

“Don’t ever say that again.” He placed two fingers on your lips. “I can’t imagine no one who can match you. You’re meant to be extraordinary. A true queen. My queen.”

His grip tightened on your waist, bringing you closer. Now it was all about the senses, which were way more heightened. Klaus’ hot breath against your neck, while his stubble made shivers run across your body. Everything felt so perfect…

“Nik, are you really sure you want do this? Because once we’re in, there’s no getting out.”

“I’m sure. You’re stuck with me, Y/L/N.”

“I guess we should seal it, then.” You said, hooking your arms around his neck and looking directly at the intense blue of his eyes.

“How?”

“It’s better if I show you.”

Your hands slippered slowly through his body until they reached the tip of his shirt, tugging it. Klaus smiled and lifted his arms, helping you to get that part of his clothing off. The sight of him shirtless made you sigh, enchanted. No other guy you had hooked up with looked half as hot as the original vampire did. It was not fair!

“Like what see, darling?”

“Oh, yeah. But-am, I’d like to see more.” You bit your lower lip. “Take those off for me, please?”

He started unbuckling his belt and then, in a very provocative way, got rid of his trousers. While the Mikaelson kick it to one of the room’s corners, you thought it was not possible for someone to be this delicious. That pair of black boxers had your mouth watering just to see what was hiding underneath. You stood, walking towards him and began to feel his bare chest. The muscles tensed. Klaus approached your bodies by pulling you closer.

“You’re way too dressed for the occasion.”

“Then help me out of it.” You whispered, teasing him.

Suddenly the skirt your wearing was torn and tossed somewhere, your baggy shirt went alongside it. The same thing happen to the fine black bra and the thong you had on. The original hybrid grinned, maliciously. He did not spare time to touch your pussy. His fingers very urgent, which made you groan loudly.

“Oh, God!”

“Nuh-uh, babe. I want my name coming out of your lips.”

“Yeah, honey?” Your voice was soaked with pleasure. “I guess you’ll have to work for it.”

“Don’t worry, I promise it’ll be satisfying.”

Klaus grasped your shoulders, applying a fair amount of strength, and guided you to bed, where he pushed you so you would fell against the mattress. Once you were there, he spread your legs and started to trace every inch of your skin, so freaking slowly it was driving you mad. A grunt escaped, as a complaining for his method to deal with things. He did not seem to care, for the man kept having his way. He gave sloppy kisses on your inner thighs and his hands ran to your breasts, massaging. You stuck your fingers in his curls, every gasp was followed by your nails digging a little more deep on it. Finally he thought it was a good idea to cut the teasing and go for it. His tongue darted out your entrance, the tip playing with your folds and making you yell so loudly you knew your neighbours would come by to critise.

“Do you like that, love?”

“Oh, fuck, just shut up and keep going.”

The original laughed and went back to your core, this time kitten licking the soft nub in the centre of it. Your breathing became more irregular as he invested more rashly, which made you twist and buckle your hips against his face. The tension built up on your stomach wanting to be released. Though you had the feeling he would not give this to you so easily. Klaus pumped two of his fingers in and out of you, now spotting places you never noticed that were there before.

“Oh, baby… I can’t hold on any longer.”

“So fast, love? I was hoping you would give me time to enjoy as well.”

“Then fuck me, right now.” The numb feeling almost did not let you externalise your thoughts. “Please… I need you inside me.”

With a small nod, he took off his briefs and stood bare naked in front of you. “And that’s what I call a beautiful sight”, you thought, laughing on the inside. Klaus grabbed one of your ankles and, once more, opened your legs wide. Now it was time to do what you had been craving from the minute you saw him shirtless.

“Ready to scream my name, babe?”

“I think you’ll be the one screaming mine.”

Klaus grinned, grasping your buttcheeks and helping you straddle him. Once you were settled, the feeling of his bare cock touching your wet pussy was overwhelming, making both moan out loud. He helped to improve the pleasure by pressing your clit with his thumb, drawing small eight figures on it. Gosh, all you wanted to do was yell and ride him like crazy. Like he was the last man standing on Earth.

“Come on, love. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Oh, OK.”

You splayed one of your hands on his chest and used the other to lead his length to your throbbing core. Took only a split second for it to happen, but, when it did, you knew it was the best decision you had ever made. The Mikaelson was soft and warm, just like you imagined he was. Perfect. His large hands clutched your hips, making your body do the work. Your breathing came out harshly, it was pretty hard to do that when you were so focused on getting your pleasure.

“So fucking delicious, Y/N.”

“Oh-oh, Klaus!”

“Told I’d make you yell my name.” He winked and you laughed. “Fuck, babe.”

“I’m going to cum. So… Close!“

The pleasure sensation was spreading through your form, making you dig your nails so deep within his skin that you could see blood coming out. Of course you did not have any power to hurt him, well, at least physically speaking. Your true scream, the banshee one, could easily put him into a long sleep, but you had that under control, so you flooded the room with moans and gasps. Now the orgasm seemed a movement away.

“Cum to me, Y/N/N. As hard as you can.”

“Oh, f-fuck! Klaus!”

It was so wonderful that all you managed to do was curl your toes and throw your head back, claiming for mercy. No one had ever made you feel this way, not even Damon and boy he had a way with the ladies. You were truly amazed. However, Klaus did not give you time to digest what you had just felt, for he still needed his release.

“Just a little more, honey.”

“Cum inside my pussy. I want to feel how is it like to be fulfilled by an Alpha.”

“So smooth with the words, huh?”

Trying to rush things, you wiggled on his lap, this time being fully aware of his tight grip on your waist. A couple of minutes later, he clamped his lower lip between his teeth and screwed his eyes shut, cumming inside of you in hot spurts. But you wanted him to feel at least a third of what you felt, so you clenched your core around him, hearing the deep groan coming out as a response.

“God, I love you so much, Y/N!”

“Aw, I love you too, hun.”

A bit tired, you rolled to the side and closed your eyes for a second, maybe you could get some sleep. After that, it was the kindest thing you could do for your own body. The hybrid pulled you to lay on his chest and started to caress your hair. So lovely. It was the side of him nobody knew except you. And the main reason why you still believed he could be saved. Deep down, all he wanted was to be loved and you were more than happy to do that for him.

You blinked, sleepy, and started to draw small things on Klaus’ chest. Yet, before you could fall asleep completely, your doorbell began to rang and you covered your ears with a pillow.

“Oh, no! Who could it be?”

“Do you want me to answer the door?”

“Nah, I can do it.” You tried to stand, but your legs did not take it so well.  “This is so embarrassing!”

“Put this on.” He threw a robe at me, putting on his own briefs. “I’ll help you get down.”

He picked you up, bridal style and took you downstairs, where the doorbell kept ringing loudly. And, even though you were pissed off about someone ruining your perfect afternoon, you laughed at the way that the blond treated you. If he was trying to spoil you, Klaus was doing it perfectly. Close to the big white door, he put you down and placed a hand on your waist, helping you to stand firmly.

“Now, who is it… Matt?” You widened your eyes staring the man outside. “What are you doing here?”

“What is he doing here?”

“It’s none of your business.” Your best friend, now boyfriend, as you assumed, answered, grumpy. “Now why don’t you leave her alone?”

“Don’t be so rude, Nik! What do you want, Matt?”

“I didn’t want to do this in front of him, but, since I have to, here it goes: I want you back. Ever since we met earlier and you told me you were somebody else, I knew I needed to win you all over again. That’s why I’m here now.”

“Oh.”

“Again, mate, leave her alone. She’s not available.”

“Is that so, Y/N?”

“Yes, Klaus is my boyfriend. We’re together. And I don’t want you back. So get out my house!”

Matt opened his mouth, but was not able to say anything. Eventually, he left and you could not help but be happy you were able to blow him off like. Now your day was perfect. Klaus smiled and massaged your waist, kicking the door so it would close.

“I guess you are already showing me off.”

“I kinda am. But I want to go New Orleans and show you off to a certain bartender.”

“So jealous!”

“No, no! I’m just stating the truth: you’re mine now.”

“I truly am.”

The Mikaelson smiled and you tiptoed, pecking his lips.

“I want to go with you to New Orleans.” You whispered.

“We can go wherever you want to go.”

“I’m sure we can postpone that talk for later, right? Because I’m really feeling ready for a round two.”

“Here or in the bedroom?”

“Oh, on my carpet. This ought to be good!”

Klaus kissed you and, while he did it, you knew you had made the right call. No matter what your other friends thought or how they would react once they find out, that wicked man was your soulmate, your best friend, and no one, absolutely no one, could shake this love out of you. And you could not wait to tell Rebekah all about it. You laughed, getting back to reality and centred your attention on the bright blue eyes in front of you. Under that sight, you knew the fun was just beginning.

[fataziraphale]

Okay, but Ryouta and Impostor for the ask meme

YESSSSSSSSSS

(note for a wayward reader: I know I interact with a lot of DR kin communities on here but Im answering these solely as me writing about fictional characters and they way they’re portrayed in canon with some distance between me and them ok)

ryotageneral opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them * | actual love of my life * (maybe somewhere in between this one and the next one? love them.5? what a good character. I am such a fan. a very relatable man)hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang* (def not my type. I’m sure he would objectively look nice though if he wasn’t, you know, literally dying? like he’d be very handsome with such luxury beauty products as Ever Eating Or Sleeping In His Life)hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuffhe’s a hard worker and wants to help people, so definitely some hufflepuff tendencies in there, and there’s a LOT of slytherin in him: using the hope video, agreeing to junko’s sketchy ass offer so he can succeed in his ambition. but ultimately, the way he decides to help people is with his brain and his creativity. he doesn’t love people so much as an abstract idea of wanting to help people, and the most important thing to him isn’t them, but his anime. that’s ravenclaw.best quality: from a “I like this character trait when I see it in a character in a show I’m watching” perspective, he has SO MANY of the same mental issues as I do and I find it SO CATHARTIC TO SEE PORTRAYED and useful for coping like. obsession with saving others to the detriment of his own wellbeing, check. doing weird, manipulative things to try to save others even if it’s not really moral, check. intense guilt for something that wasn’t his fault, check. being really fucked up and traumatized after someone told him he should feel guilty for this thing, check. being stressed out and exhausted due to the amount of work he puts on himself, check. we are very similar. I appreciate it a lot. I love characters that are like me, because I’m ultimately obsessed with myself (as is ryota a lil bit). I also love that he’s shy and anxious and awkward but a lil bit of a dick anyway. like you think he doesn’t associate with people because of anxiety, but he honestly just doesn’t like people. it makes me smile. I really love ryota mitarai????worst quality: I have a hard time understanding how he could feel safe with Junko after she destroyed his DVDs. like, I get why he would be like “being sealed away in this sketchy ass place away from all people or sunlight? PERFECT” but… why would he just accept the offer of someone who destroyed his property, things that HE LOVED AND CARED ABOUT, in front of him? he seemed really scared of her, and then just… wasn’t? idk.ship them with: IMPOSTER!!! I also enjoy scenarios where people write imposter/ryota/ibuki stuff. I know some people include mikan in that, but I have a little trouble believing ryota would be totally okay with mikan after what she did to him? like even though she’s not brainwashed anymore, I’d imagine being around her would be kind of triggering for him, like it would take a lot of time for him to feel safe around her again… I also think I saw a fic once that was Ryota/Seiko where they were sharing stories of being emotionally abused and trying to cope together and that was nice.brotp them with: imposter and ibuki in scenarios where it isn’t romantic.needs to stay away from: I’m very uncomfortable when people ship him with Junko. I’ve also seen some Ryota/Naegi, and I don’t think that would be very healthy tbh… Ryota idolizes him so much that I don’t think it could be anything but a really unbalanced relationship, and as kind as he is, I’m not sure Naegi is ready to care for someone with mental issues as intense as Ryota’s.misc. thoughts: im love him? his character arc is definitely my favorite thing about DR3. I just feel like he’s very realistically written and relatable and likable and charming and ,,, I love that Imposter was given a friend I love that his healing is tied up with the idea that “fats and sugars” are good things I love introverted villains I just,,, love

impostergeneral opinion: fall in a hole and die | don’t like them | eh | they’re fine I guess | like them! | love them | actual love of my life (like yeah hes me but before I had this whole internet mod twogami persona for YEARS I was like…. my ideal boyfriend. perfect. the hottest man I have ever seen. I saw a man so beautiful I started crying)hotness level: get away from me | meh | neutral | theoretically hot but not my type | pretty hot | gorgeous! | 10/10 would bang(for reference, im ace and very sex repulsed when it comes to the idea of fucking men. but. yes.)hogwarts house: gryffindor | slytherin | ravenclaw | hufflepuffI appreciate when people sort him into Ravenclaw, and I see where they’re coming from – he’s the type of person who thinks before acting and likes things to be methodically planned. He fights bad situations with logic and organization. But when it comes down to it, Imposter is motivated by doing the right thing. He wants to save his classmates from death. He wants to save Ryota. It doesn’t matter that he has no personal ties to these people when he’s doing it; there is no doubt in his mind that saving them is the right thing to do. He has no trouble jumping rashly into a situation if he’s sure it’s the right thing, either; he pushes Nagito out of the way without a second thought. He’s such a heroic person,,,best quality: I know this stupid and shallow but I literally cannot get over the fact that he is canonically a feedee… I will never be over it. The fact that when Akane suggests there might be something wrong with his weight he is HORRIFIED by the prospect of weight loss and announces, “Do you know how much money I spent sculpting my physique?” like he canonically got this fat on purpose, he loves food with all of his soul, he believes “fats and sugars are the only thing you can believe in”… and then he’s still an incredibly interesting, complex character with a storyline that has nothing to do with that??? I can’t believe it???? I’ve never seen such good fat representation in my life, let alone a feedee being represented, I just ?????????????? the best thing ever???????worst quality: honestly I don’t,,, dislike anything about him rip. I do think the writers maybe shouldn’t have showed us his true appearance, at least not in such an anticlimactic moment? especially bc he never used that look again, like… if they were going to do it, I would think he would be himself on the boat, but he was just Togami again? it didn’t serve that much of a purpose in the story imo. if they were gonna do it, it should have been more intimate and emotional.ship them with: ryota and ibuki !!! either poly or seperately, I’m not fussed. imposter/hajime is also adorable, like I used to be really really into that ship even though I’m not so much anymorebrotp them with: same as above hahaneeds to stay away from: idk??? like imposter isn’t a very social person, but I don’t really think his relationship with any character is super unhealthy or anything. I just want him to be around people who give him love and support,,, the only thing I do note is that back in the day there was some discourse about the translation of some line Ibuki has in SDR2, about whether she’s saying he would make a good boyfriend or that he would make a good boyfriend despite his weight? I don’t see Ibuki as the kind of person who would prefer him slim, but he needs to stay away from anyone who thinks that way, period.misc. thoughts: the greatest best most beautiful character in the world,, also, me. but like… I love that he too has this obsession with saving people that manifests really differently, but is ultimately very similar to Ryota’s? I love that they have parallel arcs that intersect? I love that they support each other? I love that ultimately HE’S THE ONE WHO SAVES THE DAY in DR3? I love the twist of him being an imposter? I love the way he acts as Togami? I love the way he acts as himself? I love the way he’s so food positive always, I love the fact that he thinks everyone else is too thin and never struggles with his own weight, I just… wish he’d gotten more screentime in DR2 because the fact that they killed him immediately 1. made very sad 2. is frustrating bc of wasted potential 3. is kind of fatphobic bc they… killed their two fat characters in one fell swoop right away and then went on to write NO fat characters in dr3 or ndrv3 but… what can u do. im still love him