[For all the pose of confidence she struck at House, the previous day had been an absolute nightmare. Shepard had seen Miranda's math; she knows how likely, or unlikely, revivals really are. She'd been trying to digest it, somehow, the idea that Miranda - this Miranda, but the distinction blurred into nothing when she'd seen the obituary - had lived through the Collectors' base mission, and through months of the Reaper war, only to die here. A small death, frozen in the night. Courage ending in nothing. Shepard might have told her, don't try -
But Shepard would've tried herself, of course, so she didn't have that. Just guilt, and an almost painful oscillation between hope and the grim resolve she knows from the Skyllian Blitz. Hold the line because there's no one else. She doesn't remember how to be that woman anymore.
So her response to seeing Miranda is a moment of pure, unbridled joy. It shines through her face and she has barely got it under control when she speaks.]
I knew you'd beat the odds. [She laughs a little, more dry now as the initial elation balances out.] So now you know how that feels.
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ninetydegrees
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But Shepard would've tried herself, of course, so she didn't have that. Just guilt, and an almost painful oscillation between hope and the grim resolve she knows from the Skyllian Blitz. Hold the line because there's no one else. She doesn't remember how to be that woman anymore.
So her response to seeing Miranda is a moment of pure, unbridled joy. It shines through her face and she has barely got it under control when she speaks.]
I knew you'd beat the odds. [She laughs a little, more dry now as the initial elation balances out.] So now you know how that feels.