Work Text:
A little after midnight, Miranda Lawson stepped out of a cab onto a London street. She eyed a nondescript government building across from her, but stayed on the sidewalk she had exited to. Inside that building, Jack was in a debriefing after being away with a group of Alliance recruits for 3 weeks. When would she be finished? Unclear—but based on Miranda's loose calculations hopefully soon. Miranda zipped her jacket against the chill in the air and looked around for a place to sit. There was nothing but the still-ubiquitous piles of rubble.
She leaned back against a wall and pulled up Jack's last message again: I'll be back tonight, but won't be finished with debriefing bullshit till late. I'll get a car—and wake you up when I get home. Looking forward to it, cheerleader.
She would never tell Jack how it took her breath away when she saw the word "home." Six months into their relationship, she was careful to not let Jack know how much of herself she was revealing. She never wanted to make her feel more vulnerable than she already did . . . and she also didn't want Jack to hold back the softer side she showed Miranda away from other people. She loved seeing the Jack that no one else got to see. She thought to herself, "And who's waiting out on the street in the middle of the night because she can't wait another second to see someone again?" Just something else to remind her of how alike she and Jack could be.
She browsed through work reports on a datapad until she found something that didn't require much concentration. Then she read . . . and waited. Forty-five minutes ticked by slowly. Finally, she heard a door opening.
The way Jack's eyes lit up the second she saw Miranda waiting for her made every minute of the wait worth it. Jack couldn't hide the smile on her face as she shook her head saying, "Miranda, what the fuck? Didn't I tell you I was gonna be late?" She crossed the street, dropped her rucksack, and pulled Miranda into a tight hug as she said, "I told you I would get a car."
Miranda kissed Jack's cheek and said, "Maybe I didn't want to spend another night home alone after 3 weeks."
Jack looked around the dimly lit area and said, "Yeah, well, maybe I don't want my . . . my . . . um . . ." Jack sighed.
Miranda smiled broadly and gave Jack a look of sarcastic curiosity, "Your what?"
"My . . . lover . . . " Jack forced out with exasperation.
"Lover over girlfriend? Interesting . . ."
Jack let out a annoyed breath, "Do you have to analyze literally everything? I don't want my woman waiting out on the street late at night—is that what you want me to say?"
"I am more than capable of taking care of myself, as you well know. On the other hand, your ridiculousness is somehow lovely and adorable right now."
"Whatever. Your annoyingness is adorable too, okay? Excuse me for worrying about you. God . . . Plus, I already called a car. "
Miranda shrugged, "Perfect. We'll share it."
Just then a car slowed as it drove down the block, and Jack raised her arm to wave it over. When it was next to them, the Batarian driver said, "I gotta call for one rider."
"Yeah, yeah, that was me . . . Turns out there will be two of us actually."
The driver gave Miranda a once-over and said, "Gotcha, buddy. You and your new friend can go ahead and climb inside."
Jack snarled, "She's my girlfriend, asshole. But you could be more respectful either way . . . I think we're gonna get another ride, thanks."
The driver said "Have it your way . . . asshole" and pulled away in a hurry.
Jack turned to Miranda and shook her head apologetically, "So, looks like I lost our ride."
But Miranda was giving her a huge smile. "We'll get another. But we better make it quick. I was turned on even before that happened. Now . . ."
*****
Miranda's head was resting on Jack's still heaving chest, listening to her heart slowly returning to its normal pace. Jack's hand was wrapped firmly around her shoulder, holding on. Miranda glanced over Jack's moonlit body and in her head, she ran back through the sounds Jack had been making moments ago. She was committing all of this, this amazing night she had been waiting for, to memory. Those sounds had been so full of want and emotion they had melted her heart. And . . . her everything else. But she knew Jack was exhausted. She moved to kiss the front of Jack's shoulder and was about to say "Get some sleep, beautiful," when Jack's voice barely filled the air around them: "You should marry me."
Miranda stayed quiet for a moment, but she pulled Jack closer. Finally, she said, "So you keep saying . . . "
"Miranda, I mean it . . . I need to know I'm the only one."
Miranda thought that from someone else this recurring need for reassurance might annoy her, maybe even make her feel insulted. But she had come to understand how deep Jack's insecurities ran. She pushed up so she was facing Jack. "Jack . . . you are the only one."
"Okay, well, I want everyone else to know it, too." Jack became more animated as she went on,"Everyone you work with. Everyone in this city. Everyone everywhere. I want them to be like, 'Jack and Miranda, oh, they're together.'" Jack paused, then added, "I'm not after your money, if that's what you think."
Miranda smiled down at her and said, "I have never thought that of you, even once. I know you don't care about any of that. I only want you to be sure that I'm what you want, that life with me is what you want."
There was quiet for another few seconds, then Jack spoke again. "When I was away, I thought about all of this a lot. All the time. I missed waking up with you so much. I can't imagine . . . being . . . with anyone else anymore. I don't want to be . . ." Jack let out a sad little laugh. "Fuck, look, I know you've probably heard all this a thousand times before. There's no way I'm the first one to say this stuff to you . . ."
Miranda pressed her hand gently against Jack's breast. "You are the first one I've ever taken seriously. Jack, there were a lot of people who wanted to fuck me—but they didn't necessarily want to marry me. And that was fine. That's all I wanted then too."
Jack sighed, "Yeah . . . I know. And I know, um, how that can be." Jack pushed her hand through her hair and said even more quietly, "What I want to know is how do you feel now? What do you want with me now?"
Miranda held Jack's cheek and said, "Jack, I've told you, and I will keep telling you—I'm in love with you and I want to be with you. But I'm not going anywhere. There's time. I just want to be sure you are sure."
Jack started to push up against Miranda, then she moved to get out of bed. "Hold on," she said.
Miranda suddenly felt very worried that she had hurt Jack's feelings—and in a moment when she was really vulnerable. Fuck. "Babe, what are you doing? Come back and keep talking with me, please."
"Hold on!" Jack went to the rucksack and knelt beside it. For a few moments she felt around in the front pocket. Then she pulled out a folded square of paper. As she walked back to the bed, all Miranda could think was how beautiful she was.
Jack sat down on the edge of the bed and held the paper out to Miranda. "Read it. Read it out loud."
Miranda took the paper and unfolded it. She squinted to make out the writing. Between the dim light and Jack's all-but-illegible scrawling, it wasn't easy. She finally made it out and inhaled sharply. She began to read it, but had to pause. Finally she said, "It says, 'Miranda, please don't make me wait anymore.'" She looked Jack in the eyes for a moment and read half a dozen emotions—sadness, insecurity, want, passion, impatience, love . . . She swallowed and asked, "When did you write this?"
"I wrote it on the shuttle when I was leaving. But I don't have any balls, so I didn't send it to you . . ."
Miranda sighed, "Jack, I love that you want me so much. I am not trying to put you off, at all. But let me ask you this one important thing: Do you remember that you used to hate me, not so long ago?"
Jack let out an elongated sigh, her voice no longer quiet. "Miranda, what the fuck? No. You're wrong. That was actually a really long time ago. We have both changed. That life was like some . . . long, drawn-out childhood and all of us who lived through that hell had to grow up so someone can take care of what's left of this fucked-up universe. What I love and what I want is this you and this us . . . now. This you and me that have been sleeping together and living together for months." Jack was gesturing at both of them with her hands, her voice breaking, "This is good. This is . . . the best thing I've ever had in my mostly fucked-up entire life, and I don't want to let it slip away from me because I wasn't strong enough to hold onto it."
Miranda reached for Jack's hands and held them in her own. "Jack. Jack . . . Nothing is going to slip away. I am not going anywhere. I'm in love with you. And I want to be with you. I just don't want you to have any regrets about . . . being with someone you can't respect. Someone you can't trust. Because of all those things from the past. They might have happened a long time ago, but they're real. They happened."
"Miranda . . ."
Miranda was growing even more emotional. "Obviously, these are my hang-ups, not yours. But can you . . . can you wait till I get to the place where I feel like I actually deserve you? Because I am not there yet . . ." Miranda couldn't stop herself from beginning to cry. And here she had been worrying about Jack's vulnerabilities . . . but if this was ever going to last, all of this had to make it to the surface.
Jack moved over on the bed and wrapped her arms around Miranda. She contemplated this turn of events. Miranda didn't feel worthy of her? Isn't that what she had always wanted back on the Normandy, for Miranda to feel that way. She thought of how satisfying she had thought it would be for Miranda to feel like shit, to realize what a horrible person she was. But now . . . Jack thought, "Isn't that how it always goes? I get what I wanted, but now I want something different. But . . . maybe I can have this now . . ."
Jack used her thumb to brush a tear away from Miranda's cheek. "Miranda, listen, we'll help each other, okay? We'll both help each other get to the place where we can make this work. Wherever that is. 'Cause that's all I want. And I think . . . I know you want it too. You love me. I love you." She sighed, "I can wait till you're ready as long as you promise me it won't be toooo long." It came out a little more comical than she intended, but it made Miranda laugh, so that was good.
Miranda was laughing and crying at the same time still. "God, Jack, I even find your impatience totally endearing. I'm not going anywhere. Unless we're together. We're going to make this work." She exhaled, "Okay?"
Jack was nodding, "Definitely. Okay."
"Give me . . . three months . . . then we can talk marriage."
"Two." Jack was resolute.
Miranda laughed again and rolled her eyes. "What a pain in the ass you are. Possibly two."
Jack nodded and smiled, a sense of peace and satisfaction filling her chest. She said into the dark, "Good. Because we should totally get married . . ."
Miranda shook her head and gave Jack that look of loving annoyance and acceptance that lovers give each other when there's no fight left in the fighting: "I'm beginning to feel quite certain we will. Now kiss me one more time, and let's try to get some sleep before the sun comes up."
Jack pulled Miranda closer to kiss her, then pulled her back down to the mattress. "Yeah, I need to get some sleep, Miranda. Geez . . ." But one more kiss wasn't enough.