Admissions

"You got time to talk?"

"Actually no, I'm a bit busy. However, I-…"

"Bullshit."

In the space of 1.5 seconds, Miranda Lawson managed to blink in one third of that time. When it actually came to using her eyes constructively, namely looking up from her computer terminal to Commander John Shepard, the rate of doing so was much slower. More like multiplying 1.5 seconds by four at the very least. And while Cerberus's best and brightest could handle mathamatics easily, dealing with a peeved superior was another.

Sometimes a perfect service record left you unprepared for beratement.

"Bullshit isn't the word I'd use, commander," said the operative slowly, throwing her hair back in what she hoped (hoped? Shouldn't I know?) was a business-like manner.

Despite his stony expression, his features chiseled for reasons other than the few remaining scars he bore, Shepard managed to pull off a small smirk.

"And what word would you use?"

"Well, I…"

Miranda blinked again, managing to do so twice in the space of a single second. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been tongue tied. Well, if one included using one's tongue for reasons other than talking, then maybe…

No. Let's not go there.

"I'm not surprised you can't think of a word," Shepard began, beginning to pace around in a manner that he rarely used in light of his usual modus operandi of casual association. "You haven't said much ever since we took out the Collectors. Only difference is, your reasons for silence aren't just about the Reapers."

This time, Miranda Lawson didn't blink. This time she sighed.

It was true, she'd give him that much, even if the commander only knew the generalities rather than the details. She had to admit, the thought of Cerberus harnessing Reaper technology…well, for some reason, that didn't sit as well with her as it might have a few months ago. Maybe it came from fighting alongside aliens, but she couldn't help but wonder what would happen assuming the sapient machines were defeated. What then? Use their technology to perpetuate something even worse than a cycle of genocide? The Illusive Man wasn't a fanatic, but even the trinkets the Collectors had traded for genetically unique specimens had been circulated throughout the galaxy And while a human saying, "what goes around comes around" had universal relevance.

But that's not what's truly bothering you is it? It's actually what happened before the assault…

"I think you're overanalyzing," the Cerberus operative said eventually, yearning for the simple times where overanalyzing was not only what she did, but what she was actually good at.

Shepard let out a chuckle. "Miranda, I'm the captain of a ship with some of the most volatile combinations possible. A quarian with a geth, a turian with a krogan, you and Jack…" He trailed off, his expression making it hard for his subordinate to gauge his true feelings on the matter. "It's my job to overanalyze. "Only problem is, that can lead to getting too deep into people…"

Deep into people? Miranda wondered, immediately banishing the dirty image that popped into her mind. That's potential for a metaphor…

Still, Shepard didn't seem to be using even something as simple as a simile. Which sucked. Because while Miranda was an expert at seeing through dishonesty, facing open honesty was something else entirely. When your life revolved around lies and half truths, dealing with something other than those could be difficult at best and a nightmare at worst.

"You're intelligent, so I'll cut to the chase," said Shepard eventually, bringing the operative out of her troubled thoughts as he sat down. "You know why I'm here, what we did, what reading people led to. Problem is, this is the second time for me. And experience has shown that just when you think you have a person figured out, they give a big fuck you by way of both greetings and farewells."

Miranda remained silent. He knew what he was talking about, what happened on Horizon…unfortunately.

"So, since most people off this ship think I'm deluded at best and insane at worst, the only comfort I can take right now is that, like you, my assessments of character are usually on the money. The only question is, whether my assessment of you is correct or not."

"…and what is your assessment?"

Shepard sighed. "That's for me to know and you to find out after I get your feedback on whatever…this is. What you think about…it and-…"

"You're cute when you use pronouns."

"Shut up."

Idle banter…it was something that…John was good at. Far better than someone who could bring a corpse back to life after two years and subsequently develop…thoughts for what some might call the undead. And while Miranda doubted that what Shepard so eloquently called "it" counted as necrophilia, she was no less troubled by what she knew to be the truth. Though, in a sense, also relieved. Because even when you lived a great portion of your life as a manipulative bitch, that didn't mean you were also fated to do so.

"I know what you want," Miranda began slowly. "You want the truth. And since it's something that so much of the galaxy is refusing to face, not knowing another truth is probably driving you nuts as well."

Shepard shrugged. "I'm used to it."

Jackass. He's not giving me any openings. Alright, here it goes…

"So, since you want to know what I think about it, which I assume is your fancy term for…it, I can only give my thoughts on my stance on…it…" Miranda stuttered, feeling like her usually silver tongue had turned to lead without the aid of any reversed alchemy. "So, at the end of…it…all I say about it…is…"

"Yes?" the commander asked, appearing genuinely curious.

"…is that I love you."

Shit!

Miranda knew she was screwed and not in a good way. Bad enough that she'd uttered the trinity of doom in the English language, but she'd uttered a fricking run on sentence leading up to it. She'd realized how hard honesty could be, but this…this was something else entirely. And blinking in surprise (thankfully with eyelids rather than cybernetics as had been the case years ago), Shepard seemed to realize this as well.

"There, I said it," said Miranda sullenly, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her face. "So, since your assessment of me was-…"

"Actually, that was the last thing I expected to hear," interrupted the commander.

"What?"

"Yeah…I mean, my assessment of you was close, but I had no idea that you were this…well, I don't know…"

It came as cold comfort to Miranda that John was dancing with the devil as much as she had been. Because if someone like her could be led by something as vague as love, what chance did he have?

"Still, it makes a pleasant change," he continued.

"Really?" asked Miranda curiously. "How so?"

Shepard let out a small smile. "Because no-one's ever said that to me in my life."

Miranda blinked…again. A bad habit to be sure, but when a close friend of yours was suddenly grinning like an idiot, you couldn't be put off your guard.

And as if in testament to that fact, Miranda couldn't help but smile too.