Chapter Text
It took a while for Miranda to recover from the invasion of her privacy, but only a short time to realise she’d left her shoes at Shepard’s apartment and was too furious to go back and get them.
“It’ll be like meditation…” Miranda had not done a lot of meditation – it required patience she had in limited and carefully rationed amounts – but she definitely recalled that it involved staring at an object and focusing one’s thoughts on it, not having someone stick their grabby blue fingers into your shittiest memories.
Far worse than the exposure of her own past, though, was the contrast with Liara’s memories. Praise, warmth, respect, unconditional love – Miranda sat on a bench outside the casino and squeezed her eyes shut. It was petty and stupid to be jealous of Liara, but the tears flowed anyway.
“Liara? It’s nearly midnight, you askin’ me out on a date?”
“Not tonight, Wrex. Where are you?”
“I’m in a very important meeting about the future of the Krogan.”
“So you’re at Armax Arena with Grunt.”
“That is untrue and I am very disappointed in you.” He was with Garrus, who wanted to know if Liara would be joining them.
“Listen, I don’t have time to argue. Miranda Lawson is sitting outside Silversun Casino in a low cut red dress and bare feet. I’d really appreciate it if you’d go and make sure she’s ok.”
“How do you – never mind. Is she more of a short or mid-range shooter?”
“I’m not sure but please hurry. I don’t like the look of the company she’s keeping.” It was likely that the company was in more danger from Miranda, but Liara didn’t feel like explaining to her daughter that her father was in exile for tearing apart a shopping strip.
“Did it hurt?”
Miranda snapped her head up.
"When you fell from heaven?" The speaker was a weedy human male of the type that thought hitting on a crying barefoot woman was a great idea.
"I don't…"
"Aw now, don't cry. It might never happen." He leaned over her, and she was suddenly, repulsively conscious of how much cleavage her dress was showing. A very faint blue mist began coiling around her.
“Miranda! Is this guy bothering you?”
She snapped her head up. Fortunately the rat-faced human who had, in fact, been bothering her, recognised both Garrus and Wrex from before the Saren incident, and didn’t need much of an excuse to bug out.
“Aw, I thought your new friend might join us,” said Garrus, hoisting his assault rifle in case rat-man wanted to take him literally.
“Wanna come shoot the crap out of some stuff?” offered Wrex.
Miranda paused, her eyes puffy but definitely dry.
“Cerberus Elites?” she suggested.
“Shit yeah.”
“My father isn’t a bad guy. He’s just very inflexible,” explained Garrus, who was becoming embarrassed at Wrex and Miranda’s shittiest-father competition.
“’joo ever hafta shoot ‘im outa window?” slurred Miranda, who was finding the Silversun Sidecars at the Arena’s bar highly drinkable.
“I think it’s time to get you to bed.”
When she opened her eyes, a sympathetic blue face loomed over her in the darkness.
“You-!” she hissed, sitting straight up, then lying straight down again. A voice whispered “There’s water on the table. I’ll leave you to it.” Feet padded softly out of the room.
Hours later, she lay awake, still seedy despite her enhanced resistance to hangovers. A tap came at the door, which wooshed open without Miranda’s permission.
Liara sat by the low bed. “Are you ok?” she whispered.
“You should have told me,” Miranda replied flatly.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea it would be so… invasive. I’m not very experienced.”
They sat in the dark in silence.
Eventually, “Did it work?”
Liara sighed. “I can’t be sure. In many respects, we’re just like humans – you shouldn’t get too excited until the second trimester.” No answer.
When the silence got too intense, Liara stood to leave. Voice shaking, she said “Of course, I understand if you… don’t want to do this again.” But Miranda grabbed her hand and pulled her to the bed with surprising strength.
“What was it like?”
Liara stared, baffled.
Miranda sat up, with mussed hair and wild panda eyes.
“What was it like having a parent who loved you?” Her voice fell to a choked hiss on the word “loved”.
Liara paused, then went to give Miranda a hug – but Miranda pushed her away. “No, I really want to know. I want you to tell me about birthdays and Janiris and Christmas and Nyahir and your first adult tooth or whatever the hell Asari have. I want to hear it.”
So Liara told her – told her in words, which took the sting out of knowing that was not her experience and never would be. Told her about flower garlands and burying toys to dig them up again, about being given a necklace belonging to her grandmother, about finding fossils on the beach, about having her sketches stuck to the refrigerator and later, as her talent developed, framed and hung on the walls. About being allowed to “control” the family hovercar and being taught to cook and how to fold a fitted sheet, about visiting zoos and museums and art galleries, about being sat down and gently told that her family type was unusual, that her father was another Asari and that many people didn’t like that, but that it didn’t make her a bad person.
Miranda listened eagerly, soaking in every detail as if it was a travelogue.
When Liara fell silent, struggling to think of stories to tell that weren’t too mundane, Miranda asked “What did she do when you failed at something?”
The asari hesitated – she didn’t want to pick at Miranda’s wounds. “It depended,” she explained. “If she thought I’d done my best, she’d comfort me and assure me that I’d do better next time, or maybe explain why I didn’t succeed. But if she thought I failed because I was lazy or sloppy, she didn’t hesitate to tell me.”
Miranda slumped against the headboard, inhaling sharply through weepy mucus. "Yes. That's what I want."
"Will you stick around, then?"
"I… maybe. Hopefully." She slipped back under the covers, pulling them into her shoulders like a hug, and Liara stood to leave. "Did you have a name you wanted to give her?"
"I hadn't thought that far – do you…" Liara trailed off, remembering that Miranda quite literally had no mother. "Ah, is there someone you admire? I don't know – Cleopatra? Boudicca? Yennenga?"
To the asari's surprise, Miranda began to giggle, a low chuckle at first, building up to an uncontrollable whoop, not stopping even when Liara poked her hard in the ribs. "Why is that so funny? I'm trying not to hurt your feelings."
"I…" Miri wheezed, then choked out "You are such a nerd."
"I hardly think you're in a position – "
"I'M a nerd. Our child will be a nerd. They're doomed, and they might not even be conceived yet." She snorted, liquidly, and Liara handed her a tissue.
Miranda honked unglamourously into the tissue and tossed it in a basket. Dawn was starting to creep through the windows. "You could name her after Benezia. If you wanted."
"That… would be nice. Thank you."
THE END