Epilogue

Sitting beneath the shade of an octagon-shaped cedar gazebo, her legs crossed like a pretzel on top of the cushion of a yoga mat, was Miranda Lawson. Eyes shut to the world around her, she inhaled a soft, meditative breath through her nose, breathing in the fresh air. Then she exhaled out her mouth. Soft. Controlled. Slow.

Between her pale and well-manicured hands, held up at a slight angle, was a blue orb of controlled biotics, the hue of which arced and snaked around her wrists like bolts of electricity.

An aura of peace and tranquility surrounded her, the quiet air around her broken now and then by the light, harmonizing chimes of a wind chime hung at the entrance of the gazebo.

Seeking out Samara for mediation lessons all those years ago had been truly worthwhile. More than she could have ever imagined.

Mid-afternoon rays of sunlight shone upon the field of grass encircling her place of meditation. A cool breeze made the well-maintained blades of grass bend and dance beneath its gentle hands, caressing over the cedar wood and human skin exposed by her racerback tank top and yoga shorts.

She exhaled again. Smooth and controlled. Her abdomen, expanded by the inhale, tightened back up. Then she inhaled, filling her lungs with oxygen and once more expanding her abdomen.

Fourteen years ago this state of bliss would have been impossible. Ludicrous and laughable. Sitting in one place, doing absolutely nothing work related with no real plan for the day, Miranda could sense her past rolling its eyes at her.

Get serious. Miranda Lawson did not do nothing. She did not sit in one place unless work required her to, and she certainly had a schedule to maintain. Objectives to complete. Reports to file.

Miranda smiled, amused by the sudden trail her thoughts drifted to.

How times have changed.

Fourteen years and the Normandy changed so much. For her. For her friends. For the whole galaxy, really.

Fourteen years ago, the Milky Way stood at the precipice of complete annihilation because of the Reapers. The Reaper War had spread to every system, every home world and effected every life in some way. It all seemed hopeless. But, in their darkest hour, Commander Anastasia Shepard united the galaxy for one final desperate push to win the nightmare war. And she succeeded.

Together they ended a cycle that had gone on for generations, but not without sacrifice. Not without cost. Friends and comrades gave their lives for the peace she now savored; Shepard herself nearly died to complete her objective.

But that was fourteen years ago. In that time they began to reconnect the galaxy piece by piece. Relay by relay. World by world.

The restoration and repairs continued all these years later. The Reapers left an extensive amount of damage in their wake, to the point some colonies were no longer viable to live on, and possibly wouldn't be for years to come. Such was the reality of a post-Reaper galaxy.

It took six of those years, and plenty of resources, to connect a stable comm and Relay network again. Six years of constant labor and deal striking; it proved to be the second hardest work she'd ever undertaken, second only to the Lazarus Project.

With civilization no longer on the brink of collapse, Shepard took a bow and retired from the line of duty. She still held an active role as an ambassador of peace—uniting the galaxy and saving their civilizations gifted her immeasurable influence. However, in Shepard's own words—

"It's time for me to find my peace."

A peace she and Kasumi left in search of together, far away from galactic politics and the lingering nightmares of the war. Eventually, after journeying around Earth, they settled on a secluded beach to begin a new chapter in their life. A new beginning. A life without war or politics or violence.

Admittedly, the thought enticed Miranda considerably at the time.

The pair were quick to start their family, adopting two Asari twins first—Denia and Zenia—and then adding a mini-Shep into the mix via artificial insemination; Xandria, they named her. All three were treasured by Shepard and Kasumi, but their family wouldn't be complete until a year after Xandria's birth when Kasumi would undergo the same process to bring little Miyako into the world.

That's Kasumi for you, Miranda mused. She goes all out for surprises, just like when we hid the return of the Normandy from Shepard years ago.

The beloved ship fell under the command of Spectre Kaiden Alenko after Shepard's departure. Miranda and Jack remained on board for a few more months before Kahlee Sanders called them back to Grissom Academy to begin teaching again.

Through those first six years, and their time as teachers, their relationship continued to grow and mature with them. They grew closer. Both became more affectionate in their special ways, and affection blossomed into love; another foreign experience for both of them to learn together.

Jack was the first to spontaneously say those three special words while they lounged together on a couch in Shepard's apartment. She could still recall the moment perfectly; Jack's head lay in her lap as the reunion party was beginning to die down; they were alone and at peace in a quiet sanctuary. Jack switched between closing her eyes and watching Miranda as she glided fingertips along her arm, her skull, into her hair—anywhere, really.

"I love you, you know that, right?"

The confession took Miranda by surprise. There'd been no preamble. No sign of Jack fighting herself on whether or not she should say it; they both used to struggle so much to express affection out loud.

Miranda felt her heart surged into her throat. Her hands paused in their explorations. Bundles of nerves sought to indoctrinate her against the truth, yet…the confession was so innocent, so genuine and absolutely mutual that she didn't second guess herself.

"I know, and I love you."

Her feelings hadn't changed since then. If anything, they continued to flourish.

After their students graduated, they too set out to find their peace.

Galactic peace held firm even in the absence of Shepard at the front-lines. The scars of the war were still too fresh to forget, if they ever would be forgotten. Miranda doubted it. The Reapers left no family, no homeworld, no colony or species untouched; isolationism stances continued to be met by overwhelming negativity by the galactic community.

That being said, politicians would be politicians. Shadow organizations like Cerberus and their alien equivalents had ideals that couldn't be eradicated, no matter how hard she tried.

Mercenaries and pirates in the Terminus Systems would tiptoe more carefully under Aria's rule, but the Terminus Systems would never reform. They were the lawless of the galaxy—always had been, always would be.

In Jack's charming words: "The Reapers didn't exterminate all the assholes in the galaxy."

Miranda held hope for a better future long after her generation was gone. They both did. More peaceful resolutions and impossible deeds happened in the last decade than her entire life before.

Who could say what the future held? She sure couldn't.

Miranda inhaled another breath. As she exhaled, her enhanced hearing caught the sound of a slider door opening and closing in the distance, but she kept her eyes shut. For now, at least.

The galaxy as a whole continued to change from what she used to know. The darkness. The political plots. The secretive work as an agent of Cerberus. It used to be her life. Work. Work was all she ever did; it was her normal.

After all, what was Miranda Lawson without work?

Shepard and Jack helped her find that answer over time. They helped teach her how to stop running, how to confront her past and move forward from it. They taught her that imperfection wasn't all so bad. Imperfections were what made each individual unique, and perfection was not only unrealistic, it was her gilded cage. A gilded cage her father imprisoned her with.

A gilded cage she had been freed from by the unlikeliest of sources.

Light but excited footsteps scurried up the two steps into the gazebo. Miranda fought to keep her features neutral against the beginnings of a smile. The feet moved behind her. Then two small hands covered over her already closed eyes.

Unable to hide it any longer, she smiled. "Hello to you too, Brianna."

"How'd you know?" the giggled response came.

The body of the child playfully leaned further into her, hands moving to wrap gently around her neck. Chocolate eyes poked into view from over her shoulder, innocence and life gleaming in them. The child's lips were pulled into an excited grin. Her outfit was bright and colorful; a sky blue t-shirt and flowing bright yellow skirt.

Miranda smiled warmly in return. "I'm your mother. I always know."

Those two sentences were yet another impossibility fourteen years ago. Children? A family beyond Oriana and her future nieces or nephews? Beyond the Normandy crew?

No. Miranda's greatest imperfection made it impossible for her to have children of her own. She had greater odds of a Salarian finding her attractive.

Yet here she was. Mother of twins thanks to the person who freed her from her cage.

Miranda glanced around. "Where are your brother and mom?"

"On their way. I snuck out to surprise you."

"Mission accomplished," she smiled. "I suppose I'll have to get you back for that."

Miranda, using her far better reflexes, turned to snatch her daughter's smaller body around the waist.

Brianna let out an adorable squeak as her bare feet lifted off the wood floor before falling into giggles and pleas of mercy. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. After all, what kind of example would she be setting by showing mercy to her prisoner?

Miranda settled Brianna in her lap and attacked her with the most horrifying weapon to all children: Tickles. To her credit, Brianna put up a fight, even managing to hit Miranda's own ticklish bare feet with glancing blows. But it was all for naught. Her mother possessed the greater leverage and power here by position and age.

Brianna kicked, giggled, squealed and squirmed in her lap like a fish out of water looking for a riverbank to escape into.

She found no escape.

By the time Miranda finished her assault, her three year old—soon to be four year old—daughter laid sprawled out in her lap, breathing heavily between interrupting giggles as she tried to hold her mother's hands back.

Little fingers interlaced with adult fingers. Pleading and glistening chocolate orbs met her amused icy blue eyes.

"Momma!" Brianna pleaded.

"Yes?" Miranda teased.

"Please stop!"

"Please stop what, Brianna?"

"Please stop tickling me!"

"Okay, okay. I will," Miranda laughed, placing a quick kiss on her cheek before releasing her.

Brianna sighed in relief but laid in her lap, defeated and grinning up at her.

You're going to look just like Jack when you're older, she thought fondly.

Her eyes, her smile, the sharp features, she inherited them all. Her waist-length waterfall of black hair was a bit thicker than Jack's, but the straightness of it mirrored her biological mother.

The sound of another set of feet hopping up the gazebo stairs signaled the arrival of Brianna's fraternal twin brother—Dakota. While they did share similarities in physical appearance, they were not wholly identical. Dakota, for instance, had hazel eyes instead of chocolate. His features were more boyish, too, and a light dusting of freckles lined his cheeks.

Otherwise his dark hair mirrored his mother's, the length of which was steadily growing closer and closer to shoulder length. He wore a fire-engine red shirt and dark blue basketball shorts.

Miranda raised her eyes in time to see him rush towards her, and to catch the sight of Jack meandering over in her peripherals. Dakota wrapped his small arms around her upper body in an embrace. "Caught you!" he exclaimed.

Brianna followed her brother's actions, hugging herself around Miranda's waist. "We've got you now!"

The raven-haired woman let out a light and warm laugh. "Hey! Two on one is hardly fair."

Her children—god, she would never grow tired of those two words—giggled but maintained their hold as she "struggled" to break free.

"Looks like you two captured the princess. Mission accomplished," Jack grinned at the trio.

Miranda looked up. "I am woefully outnumbered," she declared through a laugh.

Jack's infectious grin grew wider. "I can see that."

She placed one bare but tattooed foot onto the first step of the gazebo and braced a hand on the railing. Her hair—free of a ponytail—had grown past her shoulders and close to the middle of her back in recent years. She still kept the sides shaved completely, though, revealing the tattoo crowning her skull.

The long and loose black V-neck tank top Jack wore hung off her slim and fit body, the deep and open neckline exposing more of her colorful tattooed skin. A silver necklace—adorned with a flower pendent Brianna picked out—hung between her cleavage; Jack wore it proudly everywhere she went. Blue jeans complimented her outfit.

"All right you two. Give your mother some breathing room," Jack coerced the pair. "She has to put her mat away still."

Brianna and Dakota both hugged Miranda then Jack warmly before running off to play in the surrounding yard. Miranda watched them go, an affectionate smile on her lips for her two children.

I love you two. She exhaled a content breath then hopped up onto her feet.

Jack met her with a tender kiss.

"Captured the princess?" she asked upon parting.

"Yep," Jack nodded.

"Not saved? Not rescued?"

Jack cocked an eyebrow, a humored smirk pulling onto her lips. "Since when were you a useless damsel in distress?"

"Hm. Walked myself straight into that one."

"You made it too easy." The sudden crack of Jack's hand on her buttock cut off any retort she could make. Her body jumped in surprise, leaning further into the tattooed woman groping the stinging flesh.

"Ouch," Miranda said dryly.

"Admit it. You like me spanking your bubbly butt."

"This conversation is not happening here."

Jack grinned. "Later then?"

Miranda playfully pushed her away. "You're incorrigible."

"And you love it."

"True," she agreed, kneeling down to roll up her mat and move it out of the way.

From her kneeling position, she watched Dakota and Brianna go on their imaginative adventure. It was their anniversary four years ago when Jack surprised her with the news of her pregnancy, and these two precious kids were more than she could have ever hoped for.

Like Shepard and Kasumi, Jack went through with artificial insemination. Miranda never expected it. Yet it was the greatest surprises of her life.

All her life she did her best to ensure Oriana could have a normal life. Her sister, unlike Miranda, could actually conceive children, and she always looked forward to that day with joy and fear. Joy for the nephews or nieces she would gain, fear of how she might feel deep inside.

Jealous? Resentful towards fate or her father for her inability to give birth? Depressed? Oriana always came first in her heart and mind. But it was only human for her to hate the cards she was dealt. To want to be a mother, to have children of her own. To want to have some kind of normal.

Adoption was always an option, she knew, especially in the aftermath of the Reaper War.

Ghost and Tara, she learned, had adopted three Asari girls and had three of their own daughters—they decided six was their limit. Shepard and Kasumi had adopted Denia and Zenia, plus gave birth to Xandria and Miyako. Garrus and Tali adopted a Turian girl and a Quarian boy.

Parenthood did scare her, as it did Jack. Neither had good role models as parents. Neither of them even understood what a normal childhood even meant.

"We know what not to do. That's a good start," Jack once told her after the twins birth.

Yes. Yes it absolutely was. Her father showed her everything a parent shouldn't be, and she would do everything in her power to be nothing like him.

Most of her life she spent outrunning him and protecting Oriana so her sister could have a normal life. With her father dead and her sister a grown woman now, her newest duty in life was to give these two children of hers a fantastically normal life. A life where they could chase whatever dreams they wanted to. No prisons or impossible standards.

She would support and love these two as any good parent would. Because they were her impossible dream turned reality.

Miranda stood up, smiling as her children darted around the yard, loud with laughter and imagination. She slowly moved to the stairwell, leaning her hip against the railing and resting a hand on a beam.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

Miranda dipped her head towards the pair. "For them."

Jack padded closer and wrapped her arms around Miranda's belly from behind. "Hey, I may have given birth to the little squirts, but everything else is a team effort."

Even all these years later, she always knew what to say.

"I love you."

"Love you too, Princess."

At the beckoning of Brianna, Jack joined the game their children played. Miranda promised to join them shortly, but she wanted to first savor the moment. To imprint the photo of these three into her memory banks forever; Jack picking up Dakota over her shoulder and spinning him around like a helicopter; Brianna running away as she was chased, squealing and giggling along the way.

All her life Miranda strove to be perfect, always feeling as the odd one out when talk of normalcy came up. Normal was never a part of her equations, socially or genetically. But with Jack she learned the value of her imperfections as they set out to find their version of normal.

Together they found it.

What was Miranda Lawson without work? She was an older sister. A comrade. A valued friend. A lover. A mother.

Miranda stepped down and out of the gazebo, catching Brianna in her arms. "I've got you now!" she laughed.

Her daughter squealed in excited terror.

Their love, their wonderful kids, this peace they found after all of their experiences, they were all parts of a bigger whole that went by many names.

Their unique normal.

Their imperfect perfection.

Their family.

Home.

The End

A/N: Thank you for reading!