Why do I feel like we’ve met before? Who: Miranda and Shepard What: Meet Cute where Shepard gets hit by a car, like you do When: Mid-late April Where: A street, then a cafe Ratings/Warnings: Someone got hit by a car but the car probably took more damage Status:
Miranda would prefer to ignore that nagging sensation at the back of her mind that there was something strange and wrong with the world. She’d been marked, branded like some kind of animal and yet from what she could tell no one she knew could see it.
She’d think she’d lost her mind if she hadn’t found that social network.
So they were all losing their minds and somehow that didn’t make her feel any better. The click click click of her heels on the sidewalk at least made her feel better.
Bumping into someone, Miranda turned to chew them out, but lost her balance and went flailing into the street.
Jen was deep in thought, head down as she walked along. The strange memories of some other life seemed to be getting more common, more solid. Some of them, at least.
And then the model ship had shown up that morning—a model of the SSV Normandy. That was her ship. But she hadn’t had the model of that ship on that ship. And that was what was confusing her when someone bumped into her.
Jen looked up to see a woman fall into the street and quickly hopped over to help her up. She’d just gotten the woman back on her feet when she heard a squeal of tires. She pushed the woman away—hoping she didn’t fall again—just before a car slammed into her. The impact sent Jen rolling over the hood, into the windshield, and then over the rest of the car before hitting the pavement before she blacked out.
“What--” Miranda caught herself on a light pole, barely able to make sense of what had happened until she got a good look at a woman rolling over a car and her inner Australian came out. “Jesus fuck!”
She rushed past the car and into the street, holding up her hands to get the next car in line to stop before kneeling over the woman. There was something hauntingly familiar about her in a way that made Miranda distinctly uncomfortable, but she put it aside.
Pulse. Breathing. But there’d likely be a concussion and any other number of injuries internal.
For some reason, she was itching to get this woman’s clothing off.
For science. Honest.
When Jen opened her eyes, she had a brief flash of wondering if she’d died. Most of that was down to looking up to see a face she’d seen in her dreams—not dreams, flashes of memory of something she wasn’t sure what was. And she wasn’t sure what had led to her looking up to see this face before, but she had the feeling it was probably a lot worse than what had just happened.
Instinctively, she raised a hand and happened to cup the woman’s face before murmuring, “Déjà vu…”
Miranda blinked down at the woman several times, "Are you... okay?"
A name swam up from her memories, but then slipped away. I know you she wanted to say. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen.
"You're delirious," she murmured, talking mostly to herself.
“I’ve had worse,” Jen said, grinning slightly. “Wouldn’t recommend it, though.” Wasn’t as bad as an IED, but it would be nice if any future major accidents left her legs alone. She was pretty sure she was going to hate walking for at least a week.
Her eyes roamed the woman’s face again. Then she remembered how she’d ended up in this particular situation.
“Are you okay?” Jen asked.
"I'm fine," Miranda said, too quickly and too defensively. She cleared her throat, "You should get yourself checked out."
Ambulances were... expensive, and Miranda wasn't anywhere near her car. But she could call the woman a cab, at least. "Why do I feel like you're too stubborn to."
Jen found herself grinning at the woman calling her stubborn. “If I’d just fought a person and not a car...you’d be about right. People...can’t throw me as far.”
Yeah, she was definitely going to be bruised to hell at the very least. Probably a bit of road rash. “Should probably get out of the road…”
“I’m not entirely sure you should be up and moving," Miranda muttered, but she stood and held her hands out to help Shepard up. Clearly, this woman needed to be monitored for at least a little while.
"Do you have anywhere to be? Is there someone I need to call?" Am I going to have to babysit you?
Jen stood with the woman’s help. Thankfully her legs didn’t seem to have any breaks. Didn’t stop her from limping, but that was probably to be expected after being hit by a car.
“Day off. Could probably leave a message for my boss, if you wanted…” Jen gingerly pulled out her wallet and handed the woman one of her business cards with the inquiry line for Corvo’s business. “I do personal security.” Which is what it said on the card. Smooth, Jen, real smooth. Dumbass.
“Uh huh.” Explained why she’d been so quick to come to Miranda’s rescue. Miranda was frazzled enough that she couldn’t remember if she’d even thanked her, “I ...thank you. If I did not say that before. Are you sure you’re all right?”
Damn it. “I’ll escort you wherever you need but maybe you should try to eat something.” Observing her at lunch might tell her if there was a problem.
“No major external bleeding,” Jen said, reaching to check the back of her head. “Head feels okay, physically, but that doesn’t rule out any type of concussion…”
She smiled at the woman. “It was the least I could do, bumping into me did send you into harm’s way in the first place. But lunch sounds...good. Give me a chance to figure out if the legs are just bruised or if I’ve got a sprain.”
“There are still the internals,” Miranda muttered, eyeing the woman again as though she were trying to undress her for purely medical reasons.
“Just try not to keel over.” Belatedly, she held out her hand. “I’m Miranda.”
Jen sort of noticed the undressing-with-eyes and tried not to think about it too much. “I am aware.”
She gave the offered hand a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, even if circumstances were less that ideal. And I know I gave you my card, but I’m Jen. Or Shepard. I’m used to both.”
“All right, Shepard.” It felt … safer somehow, to refer to her with her surname. A bit of professional distance to ensure she didn’t somehow become attached.
There was a cafe across the way, so she led Shepard over to it, trying not to fuss too much over a woman she barely knew. It just felt like she knew her, and that she knew her well. Which was absolutely bonkers.
Somehow, being fussed over by Miranda felt...familiar. Just like getting injured and coming to and seeing her hovering. And she felt like she knew Miranda, in a way that she hadn’t felt when meeting anyone she didn’t already know.
Jen held the door open for Miranda--door holding was a habit, so that must mean her head hadn’t gotten too shaken up after getting hit by the car--who’s driver hadn’t been decent enough to hang around, she remembered.
Miranda could have made a stink about the door holding thing, but it had seemed like an automatic gesture which was probably a good sign. She filed it away in the new section titled ‘Shepard’ that was quickly gaining space.
“Thank you. Do you have a favorite meal?”
“I’m good with a...sandwich or something,” Jen said. “Not super picky, and I don’t think I’ve been in this particular place for food before.” At least, she hoped she hadn’t and wasn’t just not remembering having been there. That would be bad.
“Then order what you’d like,” Miranda said, almost like an order. Which somehow felt backwards though she wasn’t going to unpack that right now. Her own order was a light salad, though she splurged a bit with chicken on top.
Jen fought back the sudden urge to reply yes ma’am and ordered the most basic sandwich on the menu.
She glowered a bit but felt as though she should have expected this woman to have a boring taste, “Military?” She asked.
“US Marines, yes ma’am.” Jen gave herself a mental kick for the yes ma’am and decided to blame it on hitting her head if Miranda said anything about it. “Motor transport, vehicle operator. There is some irony, I guess, in being hit by a car.”
“That explains the lack of taste,” Miranda said, actually making a bit of a joke there. Or was she? She took her salad and sat down, leaning forward to study this woman. It also explained her general physique. There were times in Miranda’s life she wished she were less bombshell and more … bomb. Or whatever one called it. If she was built like Shepard, she’d probably get less catcalls, and she’d rarely met people who looked at her as more than tits and ass.
“But I won’t tell anyone you were run over.”
Jen rolled her eyes as she sat down. “I didn’t feel like paying for anything...fancy. Don’t know if I’ll ever get used to--” Having the kind of money this gig pays. She rubbed right above her right eyebrow, momentarily thrown when there wasn’t the tip of a scar there. “...wider choices.”
She smirked. “‘Preciate it. Getting run over is, well, weirdly pedestrian, pun not intended. And yet also not a common thing.”
“I would have paid for it,” Miranda assured her. “I take it you’re not one to accept the kindness of others easily?” A voice at the back of her head pulled the pot kettle black quote but she ignored it.
“Being a Marine and dying in an automobile accident sounds rather depressing.”
“I like to pull my own weight. There’ve been times in my life when I couldn’t, and I didn’t like how that felt.” And it seemed things were like that in that other place, world, whatever, that she kept remembering.
“Surviving...combat shit just to get killed by a civilian vehicle is definitely on the list of ways I don’t want to go out,” Jen said. Not that there was a list of approved ways of leaving this life, just ones she’d rather not experience.
“You wouldn’t know that just by looking at me, but I understand. The pulling my own weight part, and surviving. Not the combat.” She knew she’d grown up well, had a good up bringing, but with a man like her father for her father just making it to adulthood had been an exercise in survival for both her and her sister.
Except she had no sister, where the hell had that come from?
“That’s good, then. That you understand, not that you had to go through things that made you understand.” Why did Jen feel like there would have been a time she wouldn’t have believed Miranda about that? Weird.
This conversation had gotten suddenly awkward and Miranda was glad to be able to focus on her salad, though she poked away at it much too politely. Some habits died hard and manners and proper ways to eat had been drilled into her along with so many other things.
Someone like Jen would have driven her father crazy and that alone was at least two points in Miranda’s book.
“Have you been in Vegas long?”
Jen’s sandwich was basic, but it was good and that was the main thing about food that mattered. “A few years now,” she said. “Found the security job after...needing something to do once I was back on my feet.” Kind of literally, given the injuries she’d had to recover from.
“You?” she asked. “Been here long?”
"A few years, myself." Miranda chose to be a little bit vague in her response, as she really had no idea who this woman was or if she might somehow be in the employ of her father.
One could never be too careful. And yet, part of Miranda wanted to be open to Shepard. She couldn't say why, or why Shepard alternately annoyed and intrigued her.
Jen just nodded. Vagueness was fair for someone you only met because you literally bumped into them on the street. Still, why did she feel like Miranda should be sitting behind a desk when they talked?
Unable to help it and quite against her own will, Miranda leaned forward and asked, “Why do I feel like we’ve met before?”
Jen took a deep breath. “I’m actually glad you asked that.” She leaned forward a little as well. “Have you started remembering things that don’t seem to have happened, at least...not here? And have you had something that’s kind of like a tattoo just...appear out of nowhere, painfully?”
She didn't particularly like Shepard's questions in large part because they were so accurate. Her back itched where the mark had seared itself into her just the other day. Large at first in a shape she didn't understand though all that remained was the image of a woman. Simple. Barely a sketch.
Miranda didn't like what it implied.
Her jaw twitched and she almost lied, "... Yes."
“Don’t feel too weird about it--pretty much everyone on the network is experience the same kind of...phenomena.” Jen bit her lip and locked eyes with Miranda.
“But more to the point...one of those memories I’ve had--I was waking up in something like a hospital room, or a lab, with no idea how I got there.” She paused. “Apparently I was still supposed to be sedated--there was a man’s voice, and a woman who told me to try to stay calm--thought she might have been an angel for a moment even though I don’t know if I believe in heaven--and…” Jen blushed a little and dropped her gaze at the realization she’d admitted that the woman had looked like an angel in that moment.
“You look exactly like her.”
She was going to feel weird about it anyway though Miranda was just as curious about wanting to study it. Perhaps she merely needed a volunteer or two, but that was a thought for another time.
The fact that she wasn’t alone was comforting, though Shepard’s words were just a little alarming and--
“Lazarus.”
The word hit like the flip of a switch. Jen sank back in her chair with a sharp inhale of air. Dead. Jen had been dead, and the Lazarus Project had brought her back.
Cerberus had brought her back. The color drained from Jen’s face. The name Cerberus brought a sense of disgust, distrust, and a small spike of fear. Jen no longer had any interest in her sandwich.
“Holy shit…”
The word had just slipped out, as though someone else had said it and yet she had said it. Another her, another time, another …. Something.
No matter. Clearly Shepard was having issues. She reached out across the table, “Are you sure you don’t want to go to hospital?”
Miranda’s touch brought Jen out of the reverie of memories. She took a deep breath and slowly shook her head.
“No hospital. Just...remembered a few flashes of things. From...wherever those memories come from.” She sighed. “Seems like it’s a complicated place, whatever it is.”
Miranda’s throat bobbed, and she looked down at their hands before pulling it away, “I don’t believe in destiny. It’s all bollocks.”
But she wasn’t actually convinced of that and the longer she looked at Shepard the more certain she was that she knew her.
There were a number of other feelings too, some of them quite confusing and most of them having to do with those arms but she repressed that immediately.
“People make their own destinies.” It came out before Jen really even thought about it. But it was true. Sure, life could deal you some shitty cards, but they were yours to do...well, whatever you decided to do with them.
There was a pang of...something when Miranda took her hand away. Part of Jen wanted to reach out and hold Miranda’s hand, but another part of her thought that was probably not the best idea. But there was a connection there, in that other place, and somehow that made Jen nervous.
“Well,” Miranda said, feeling suddenly awkward and like she needed to not be here. “You seem to have no obvious ill effects but… “
She hesitated, then pulled out a notepad and scribbled something on it, “Here’s my number. You may call or text me if you need anything. Is that all right?”
Jen took the offered number and nodded slowly. “Thanks. I’ll keep you updated, yeah.”
First time in a while she gets a girl’s number and it started because she got hit by a car. Somehow, that seemed about par for the course to Jen. These days, at least.