#spaceguard

@spaceguard sent  " at least i've got you here to take care of me, right ? "

hand steadier than expected work diligently. a careful application of medigel to stem the bleeding before applying pressure - it’ll be sufficient in the interim before they reach a proper medical station.  she notes the sickly stickiness of blood, a familiar sensation that coats on her fingers. building a human back together is far different than keeping one from falling apart. the alliance biotic is far from crumbling, however - perhaps something she should share as her palms press down, allowing the medigel a little more time to work in knitting back at least a small layer of tissue.  

“ not many would consider that a blessing, major alenko. ”  formalities, miranda recalls them even now. the muscle beneath her hand buck and twitch ever slightly, his heartbeat readily notable. “  clean shot, though.  doesn’t appear that anything significant was struck.  ”  well, besides the upper expanse of his knee.  

but she sighs for a brief moment, adjusting her place next to him. they’re lucky the encounter with the opposition had been brief and shepard already informed of their position. hearing the major injured, miranda recalled the soft panic laden in their voice  - it urged a similar dutiful protectiveness in her, at least to make sure that this man whom shepard cared for ( or seemed to, their reconciliation after the coup had not been something she delved too far into  ) didn’t bleed out on a grit crusted cerberus outpost floor.  

prompt. | @spaceguard

There she is. Oriana. She still has the same eyes as she did nineteen years ago when Miranda held her in her arms, a frail, small infant back then. Looking into the young woman’s face is almost like staring into a mirror; they’re identical. Genetically. But Oriana looks different, regardless, with an expression in those otherwise identical eyes of someone who hasn’t seen the kind of things that Miranda has. Fortunately.

Miranda made sure of that, those nineteen years ago, by saving her sister from her father. It’s a decision she will never come to second guess.

Miranda instinctively smiles as she looks at her sister. And just, like Oriana did as a baby, she returns that smile in an instant. Her adoptive parents are with her, loving parents that Miranda carefully chose because Oriana only deserved the best. She’s done it. She’s given Oriana everything that she could never have. A normal family, a normal life, friends.

Then, she turns to leave. The movement feels as if one of two magnets attracted to each other were pushed back with such force to prevent them from touching. It took every bit of strength she had in her to leave Oriana. Memories of the moment when she, a sixteen-year-old girl, had to leave Oriana behind, come to the surface. It had been the most heart-wrenching decision of her life.

“It’s for the best”, Miranda asserted. “Oriana has a normal life. I’ll just complicate that for her. The less she knows about me, the better.”

She cannot hide that insecurity in her voice. Miranda wants to sound pragmatic, but she can’t. The desire to get to know the sister she had been watching over from a distance for nineteen years is palpable in her voice. Shouldn’t she? Miranda couldn’t imagine the happiness from even just one conversation with Oriana, but how selfish would it be? Once she became part of Oriana’s life, there was no return.

But, if she stayed, she would hurt Oriana sooner or later, wouldn’t she? She wasn’t like her sister. Miranda had a reputation for being ruthless and cold and in a way, it was true. As much as she loathed Henry, Miranda saw parts of him inside her. And she couldn’t let Henry near Oriana. That extended to the parts within her.

Yet, for some reason, her squadmate manages to convince her to talk to Oriana. With a few mere words. Normally, it takes a chain of well-funded arguments to convince Miranda of something, and even that could prove futile. But when Kaidan argues that Oriana should know she has a sister out there who loves her, Miranda merely nods. “You’re right”, she speaks, softly, her voice not resembling her usual tone one shred. It’s strangely tender.

It’s only when she returns, she notices that her cheeks are wet with tears. Had Kaidan noticed? Hopefully not. She wasn’t comfortable crying around people. It’s the reason why she has avoided looking into Kaidan’s face since laying eyes on Oriana.

“We’re done here”, Miranda declares, back in her usual professional, authoritative tone. As if she didn’t just go through one of the most meaningful experiences of her life. “Oriana is safe. My father won’t be able to track her down anymore.” She assured, with her back still turned towards her squadmate. With a subtle movement, she wipes away the tears from her face with the sleeve of her catsuit. Then she takes a deep breath and turns to Kaidan.

She’s about to tell him they should head back to the ship, but then Kaidan speaks up.

“Letting someone see you that vulnerable, it’s a scary thing.”

Damnit. She wants to huff, or roll her eyes, but she can’t. The lieutenant and his tendency to say such profound things in the rare moment where it has the capability to affect Miranda.

In any other circumstances, she would’ve shot back with a witty remark. Something along the lines of her not being vulnerable. But in those very circumstances right now Miranda isn’t able to come up with anything like that.