The Commander is a patient woman, but she wanted things made to perfection.

But isn't that what everyone wants? Perfection? Everyone strives to be the best of the best, just like these soldiers under her command. Just like Bradford in Mission Control. Just like Vahlen and Shen before the… incident happened. And now, just like Lily and Tygan.

But with the Commander, it's different. She is the pillar of hope for the Resistance, the godlike hero that has ascended for them all — she blamed this image on Bradford, even though he denies it with that obvious tell where he shakes his head a little too robotically and his fingers twitch — and when she isn't perfection, then everything is disastrous.

"The Commander is crazy! She got him killed!"

"She should've seen it coming."

"Is Central sure that the aliens still don't have a grip on her?"

Every mistake created a dent so large the Commander had to hammer into her troops promises and assurances with an air of authority, pleading inwardly that they would see her as something other than a gold plated trophy they uncovered after years of searching.

"He doesn't look good. The Commander directed him out of harm's way, but barely."

"You would think our commander wouldn't be so novice in strategy."

"I just hope he makes it out of the ER."

But mistakes couldn't be avoided. Not in the present. And the Commander is aware of this fact… and is experienced with undoing her mistakes by now.

"There's damage, but nothing he can't recover from. It missed all the main arteries, and the Commander got him out of most of it."

"Still, the Commander messed up. He shouldn't be injured at all."

"I know. But we're lucky he didn't get anything worse."

So every time, right before she lets her consciousness float to the Avatar, she focuses her psionic energy on the past. The recent past.

"Something is wrong. Mass amounts of psionic energy is being focused on… something I cannot identify." Tygan always said this, every time, as her mind opened up and she let her consciousness begin to trickle into the void.

A few seconds later, Bradford would appear in her line of sight. He always did. However, the trembling grip on her shoulder was new. A simple change of wording can cause a ripple in the pond she supposed.

"Where is it coming from? Is she feeling pain? N— Commander, can you talk?"

The slip of tongue was new too.

"The energy… it's coming from the Commander," Lily breathed with an awestruck voice.

Bradford's eyes went wide, staring at Lily, whom she couldn't see, but sensed almost instinctively, before his gaze returned to her. The amount of concern and fear in his eyes was not something she liked. It was new, and she didn't want him to be afraid.

"Natara?" His voice was so low and hoarse even she could hardly decipher it, and he wasn't even a foot away. She tried her best to smile.

"I'll see you nine months ago, John."

And then she was disconnected from her body once more.

It's not like she enjoyed playing God, zooming back to the past, where her muscles are underdeveloped from years in stasis, the chip is causing agony in the back of her mind, and she is helpless to save those two soldiers that died to retrieve her. She cannot reach out to help them, and sometimes she watches a horrifying conclusion unfold.

She wasn't perfect like everyone thought. She made mistakes, but people thought she was a goddess of strategy, a reaper on the battlefield. When she didn't make that impression, she wasn't a Commander. She was a weakling.

Her consciousness floated back into reality, and she opened her eyes to a blurry image of the room her stasis suit occupied, and trickles of electricity around the corners of her vision. Instinctively, her psionic energy flared to life, and she pushed at the bonds, but no use.

And then, she felt it. John.

He was right outside the facility. The woman assisting him was hacking the door. The other soldier, a man who just watched his partner die, was holding back the ADVENT troops.

The door opened with a hiss and she felt him step through it, gazing around.

"This is the place."

He was close. She strained to open her eyes, to see through the steel plated door of her pod, but she couldn't. I'm here, I'm here, get me out already.

The steel doors parted and light blinded her, but she adjusted quickly. She had memorized what happened next. Her body dipped forward, and her helmet rested on the glass, but through the tinted visor she took in John's face. He looked so worn at this point, so different than the aura he radiated at the end, before she used her psionics.

She watched him, and he took a moment to look at her, and she felt conflicted as she felt him fill with hope. He had gone this far only for her to turn back time again and again, and he would never know of it. She wanted to die, because she hated fighting this war, being the Commander, but she did it because she had to. No one else would, no one else can, and she owed it to John, to Shen, to all of her veteran soldiers that she was taken from.

The glass shattered, and her body began to tilt, only for John to catch her. He set her on the ground carefully, talking to someone over the comm, but she could never quite figure out if it was Tygan or Lily.

He looked at her visor, "Alright, let's get you out of here," She felt herself being lifted, and he yelled, "Rose, make us a new exit!"

"On it Central!"

Well. That's also new.

Things went differently this time. Instead of John taking cover behind a piece of the broken and smoldering wall, he went straight for the Skyranger, and so did Ruby "Pixie" Rose, the prized Specialist of her squadron.

Odd.

Everything else went the same, per usual. The visor removed, she could see them clearly, could see the weird device Tygan was lowering toward her face, and instinctively, as she did every time, she panicked.

She flickered between past and present, seeing a Thin Man perform surgery on her as Tygan did the same, and she tried, she tried so hard to scream, but the mouth guard that restricted her from biting her tongue stopped her. A slight pressure was on her arm, her hand now, and John leaned over slightly to ensure she saw him, but Tygan wasn't obstructed.

"Hold on Commander, we're getting that thing out of you."

The Elder — Ethereal, Ethereal was more fitting — raised its hand, psi energy glowing from it, but she refused to be host to it, she refused—

Blackness.

"Welcome back, Commander."

Some things never change, and she didn't know if she liked it or not.

…

…

…

"Nice to see you finally awake."

The world shifted back into view faster than usual. She became more attuned with her psionics over time, so she could orient herself quickly. The nausea was there, but not nearly as prominent as the first time. John was talking, but she knew she had to try to get up to keep things the same. So she braced her hands on either side of herself and pushed herself up.

He didn't stop her. That was new.

Almost wide eyed, she glanced at him, only to see him staring grimly at her. Swallowing thickly, she curled her legs so she was sitting with her knees bent and pressing into the mattress, feet pointed off to the side.

"I figured you know what you're doing by now, so there's no need to stop you," John said, and he knew, how did he know, that's not possible—

"It took some time to get over the Deja Vu, but eventually I figured it out. No one else has yet," He continued, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees, "Commander, how many times were you planning to send yourself back?"

"…until I got it right," She looked down at the pristine white cloth, the wrinkles that formed when her hands clenched, and she pursed her lips, "I'm the famed Commander of XCOM. I have to get it right."

"Right… or perfect?"

She stared at him, "For me, right is perfect."

John's jaw clenched, and mindlessly she reached out through her mind, sending feelers to see what he felt. He seemed to sense her presence within, because in a snap, his eyes softened and the strain of his jaw lessened.

"You've gotten used to your power."

"Practice makes perfect," She laughed hollowly. Sighing, she admitted quietly, "This would be try thirteen."

Admitting it now made it seem that much worse, that her actions were the ultimate sin, and she couldn't give it back. But she didn't want to see her soldiers die, didn't want to go back to the very first time, where her beloved veterans fell to the Avatar's, leaving her to fight on her own, to die at the hands of the Elders. She refused, and she sent herself back unintentionally the first time, and now it's just become a regular process.

"…unlucky number," He tried to joke, but she was far in her thoughts, and she didn't acknowledge him. He seemed to know this, he knew a lot more now, and she felt arms around her and a chin set atop her head, "Let's make it lucky."

Hugging. That's new… especially for him.

"Not gonna let you go through this again. Promise me that you won't jump back this time."

She hoped that he wouldn't ask that, but she knew he would. And he's done everything for her, she can't say no, it's impossible to say no.

A slight nod, and a satisfied hum reverberated through his chest, and she could feel his heartbeat, hear it since her ear was pressed against it. Her arms weakly gripped at him to return the hug, and she suddenly felt so horrible to have done this to him, to all of them.

"'M sorry."

"Don't, you just want to save everyone," John rubbed her back soothingly, and she could have mistaken it, but it felt like he inhaled the scent of her hair deliberately, "But not everyone can be. That's war. Might not be right, but you've got to do the best you can to make it perfect."

"My best isn't perfect, Central."

"No," John admitted, "No one's best is. But your best is your perfect."

She blinked, "I guess so…"

He exhaled before pushing her back slightly so he could see her face, and he pat her cheek affectionately, "Come on, Natara. I've seen your best. Saw it back twenty years ago, saw it before you jumped back again. Your best is as perfect as we can get."

Her heart swelled at the compliment, and her confidence, having been withering and shrinking, rejuvenated then. One fact stuck out to her though, and she approached the topic hesitantly.

"You… keep calling me Natara."

He himself seemed to realize that fact, and for a moment her breath caught in anticipation of his response. A moment later, a soft smile bloomed, and rough knuckles brushed gently across her cheek to tuck away a strand of ebony hair.

"You aren't the only one that's learned a thing or two in these travels back in time, Natara."

And in that moment, he was gone, and she was left reeling. She frowned before she kicked off the covers and ran after him, pulling him in right before the doors to her quarters closed.

This time it's going to be my perfect, she vowed, hugging her dear friend as if her life depended on it, her head resting in the crook of his neck. And this time I'm not going back.

…

…

…

"Did you see that save by the Commander? If she wasn't so quick he'd be dead!"

"It's like she knew before that thing attacked!"

"Yeah! I'm glad she's around. It's like we have a good luck charm with us all the time now."

...

...

...

Hey there, I just made this little one-shot because the idea popped into my head while playing and I haven't been able to get rid of it since. Oh, I own nothing but my interpretation of the Commander, aka Natara.

Hope you all liked it! Happy writing to all :)

Lonessa out.