A/N: Miranda POV; I've warmed to her considerably since I started to watch Chuck (plus I have a bit of a Shaw/Casey/Sarah thing). Yet another oneshot which has grown I'm afriad. Whist writing this I came up with a Jack version since the themes between the two are so similar, and then another and then another. Mind you, Mordin is VERY hard to visualise aged six, so far all I have is him finding a stash of sugary goodess and being bouncing off of the walls hyper. Never a good thing. ^^

Still, these are fun to write and don't take too long, providing the perfect mental breathing space between other... stuff. Bioware owns everything except imminent failure.

Solitude

Miranda's hand grasped around the ribbon of the bright pink balloon, the other squeezed the damp, lichen covered bench which she was sitting on. An ice creams truck's jingle played in the background.

"Miranda sweetie? Would you like an ice cream?"

Miranda shook her head.

She hungrily eyed all of the children playing around her; their laughter was ringing around the air, music to her ears. It was a beautiful day in the park, the sun shone high overhead and the lush vermillion grass whispered in the breeze; there was absolutely no reason for her to be feeling so sad. Only metres away a boy and two girls were taking it in turns to use the slide, despite herself, she was aching with a primal desire to join in with them.

"Miranda, daddy has to leave but he will be back in five minutes, do not move from this bench. I love you."

"I love you too daddy."

She continued to watch the boy and the two girls, now entrapped in a childish argument as to whose turn it was. The boy was swaggering out his chest, proclaiming it was his, whereas the girl, a blonde, was red in the face and shouting at him. The other girl sat in the middle of the two and said nothing. Miranda knew that the boy was wrong, she had since counted them use the slide a total of thirty two times, starting with the boy and finishing with the blonde girl, and three goes into thirty two ten times with a remainder of two, which meant that there was still another turn before the cycle came back round to him. Maths like that was child play to her.

"You're different to all of the other children Miranda, you're special."

Part of her wanted to go walk right up to them and correct them, another had kept her stapled to her seat in fear. The blonde girl stomped off and huddled in the corner of the fence surrounding the play park, looking up only occasionally to glare at them. Unconcerned, the boy walked to the top of the slide and whizzed down, the other girl looked over towards her friend frowning. Miranda wondered if her intervention would have made any difference to the situation.

"The others, they wouldn't understand you. You must not talk to them."

Miranda looked away from all of the children playing, focusing instead on the pattern of the moss and lichen on the bench below her legs.

"Excuse me?"

Miranda looked up and was faced with the other girl, the boy stood in the background looking sullen.

"We saw you sitting alone," the girl gave a sniff and looked back towards the blonde "would you like to play with us?"

Miranda recoiled in fear, she stared down wide eyed at the girl, unable to reply.

"Hello? Earth to bench girl?"

Miranda could feel herself physically tremble with nerves; she formed words in her mouth which would not come out.

"Huh. What a weirdo." The girl sneered and turned away.

"Miranda? Who was that?"

Her father reappeared at her side.

"...It was nobody daddy, really."

Her father hesitated.

"Okay princess, whatever you say. Come on, we're leaving."

She could feel his hand enveloping her own and a gentle tug signalling for her to get off the bench. She stood and, still holding her balloon, wiped the last traces of moss off of the back of her jeans. With one last fleeting glance at the scene she was leaving behind her, she let her father guide her away, home.