The prompt: Miranda finds an abandoned Turian baby on a desolate mining colony.

Knowing that she's screwed if Shepard finds out, she decides to take care of the baby out of some latent maternal instinct.

Fluffy times ensue.

Bonus if Garrus helps out for whatever reason.

The fill:

Her frantic, desperate plans came crumbling apart, crashing and burning apart not unlike what had happened to the Citadel only a week after they'd been laid.

At first, it had just been a matter of knowing that she was getting far too attached the the crying child. Unable to ignore how the warmth and weight of it tore down something she hadn't even known existed. Holding and humming to it, and not just when it screamed for attention. She found herself rocking it to sleep, wrapping it in her expensive comforter that was soon torn to shreds, and ignoring the sharp teeth and claws that grabbed for her hair.

Though, 'it' was probably not the exact correct term. It's horns were tiny, but visible, and from what she could dig up and then erase immediately after, that meant it was a baby boy. A tiny male baby with mandibles that seemed to twitch in joy when it looked at Miranda. Dark blue eyes that had gazed up helplessly at her from it from its bad in an abandoned mining factory. Orphaned, with a dead turian laying nearby in a pool of congealing blood turned black, whom had perhaps been one of its parents. Blood splatter staining his clothes. With dust on his tiny angular face with its white markings that made him look almost like a Earth badger.

Shepard had, luckily or not, had split the team apart and send everyone in a different direction to better scout the camp. So when she carried him off, holding him to her chest looking around for help, no one saw her. No one glimpsed her the way she lamely tried to comfort it. No one saw the look on her face when the turian infant reached for her face, hands opening and closing. No one had seen her hiding the baby onto an empty gun crate, wrapping it first in a half ash stained and bloody uniform of one of the minors that swallowed the baby's form, and sneaking it onto the ship.

Boy or...not, though, she was attached to its cries, the eager way it sucked at the dextro-protein rich liquid she'd managed to sneak from the kitchen that made Tali scratch her helmeted head and asked the nearby crew members taking their turn to eat if they'd seen the bottle of Quararian food she'd set aside. Miranda had given her not a look. Jacob had shrugged and added another layer to his sandwich. Shepard, after the attacking of rations like an assailant and in possession of the almighty credit account, had offered to buy some more at the Citadel. The matter was settled by simply taking some of Garrus' food supply, and the dark-haired woman breathed easier.

Their commander had no idea. She could see Shepard looking at her with a cocked head. Looking cold in a white and black tunic. " You know we can't have a baby on the ship used to fight Geth. And reapers. And pirates. And mercanaries.

"A ship full of guns! You even have one right besides you! A ship with dangerous equipment everywhere. And ammo and bombs. And Jack. And-what possessed you?

"We have to take that baby some place safe."

And then tearing him from her arms, just as she'd had to do herself to her little sister.

She could not go through that again, because, because, well...well, this baby was her responsibility. Saving the child meant she took responsibility of his life. To leave him somewhere, someplace he didn't even know with strangers would be scrimping on her duty. Miranda prided herself on her pragmatism, her judgment, and knew that this was the right thing to do. He made a noise in her arms not unlike a coo of agreement.

...it could even be said to just be a simple experiment. How would a turian act if raised by a human? Who could know? And to take him away from her at such a critical time, that, that would be a negative consequences that may harm the child. The psychological effect could be catastrophic. Without her, it may suffer severe trauma detrimental to his development. He would grow up to be one of the gang members that were regularly shot by the team every other day.

After all, just last night as she'd lifted him from the empty gun crate lined with blankets she'd taken from the support pods the support crew used to sleep in, she'd thought it gurgled something out that sounded like 'mother.'

The exact plans for their future were hazy, Miranda had to admit, extracting strands of her hair from his tiny claw. She had the utmost faith in Shepard to defeat anyone they came across, reapers or geth or Collectors or unruly gangs. And to leave him on some planet would be just as unsafe as having him on the ship. Colonies were disappearing, after all. Ever her own sister, whom she'd thought had been safe, could have died or been taken to her father. Or both. The galaxy was an unsafe place.

Yet, Shepard had yet to lose anyone during this mission. There was no finer ship in the galaxy compared to the Normandy. The crew members were handpicked for their skills and could be trusted in any violent situation. Some more than others, true, but even Kelly seemed like the type to handle herself.

She was rocking the baby back and forth in her chair, thinking of a plan, thinking of a name, and utterly unprepared for the door opening.

"I was wondering if you got the. The. Calibrations." Even the older turian's mandibles seemed froze.

Her expression was probably not dissimilar.

They stared at each other, time unknown, until the baby reached up to grab for her jacket.

"Miranda. Why do you have an infant? A turian infant?"

Shepard's old team member's race now seemed thrown into sharp detail. Over two meters of alien, born and raised. Maybe she could ask him how to deal with the claws?

"I...found him."

"You found a baby. On. On the ship?"

For three point seven seconds she thought that one over, before dismissing it. Questions would be arisen that she couldn't answer, and video recordings inspected that she couldn't cover up sufficiently.

"I recovered him on a mission. At a mining colony."

"He's not a chunk of platinum."

Something warm rose in her chest as she looked down on him. No, no he's much more precious. Worth more platinum than the entire universe. He seemed to smile up at her in return.

"Wait. Which mining colony?" He looked up and away, trying to shuffle through memories of the places the commander dragged them through. "We haven't been to one of those in-"

"A little over a standard week."

Garrus opened and closed his beaklike mouth. "You've had him for a week? How is that even possible you've kept it quiet for that long?"

She ignored the second question. Even Miranda wasn't sure how she'd managed to do it, what with the constant intrusion and her own work that kept her busy enough. "What of it?"

How was it even his business? What she chose to do in her room was her own choice. Even Shepard had a hamster and growing collection of fish that the fearless, peerless leader would rush up the elevator to feed after every mission with an almost obsessive compulsive fury. Eyes wide and nearly twitching to get there, the heaving sigh of relief when discovering that they were all alive and swimming around in meaningless patterns. Now, that was something be concerned over.

To say nothing of the pile of toy ships that were bought at every planet with a souvenir store. The messages checked every five minutes. Switching of nothing but the armor's colors with every mission, as though red this time instead of blue would prevent gunfire. And the less said about the running around to check on how everyone felt after every planet, the better.

These all coming from the few early recordings she'd watched before deciding that she simply didn't want to question the sanity of the leader the human raise depended on.

Cerberus perhaps should have listened more closely to her advice and installed that control chip.

He looked at her closely. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine." The baby seemed to squirm closer to her for reassurance, his hand outstretched and offering moral support or to grab at the choker she wore around her neck.

"I thought Grunt was bad enough."

"Oh, he's much better mannered."

"The baby. Or Grunt?"

Miranda cleared a dry, tight throat. "Shepard can't know, Vakarian."

"Why not? I think this is something that-"

"The commander wouldn't understand."

He shook a scaled, scarred head. "That you've lost your mind."

"I've done nothing wrong."

"You're carrying around an orphaned child on a dangerous ship that is headed for all intents and purposes, a suicide mission."

The baby fidgeted, mandibles twitching before uttering little sounds of complaint. "...He's getting fussy. You should leave."

"He's starting to cry."

"I know that."

"You have to support his head better. Watch his crest." Garrus made a strangely incomplete cupping motion, stepping forward.

Miranda nearly reached for the pistol strapped under the desk. "I know how to hold him!"

"Watch out for his teeth."

"He needs a nap, is all."

"Where are you even keeping him?" The bright forward eyes landed on the pile of blankets. "Oh. I see."

"He's perfectly fine."

"Is that a gun container? I hope you at least-"

"Shush. I'm putting him down for his nap." Gentler than she imagined herself capable of, she laid him down on one of the pillows she'd taken from her ruffled bed, covering him with a blanket. With his eyes closed and gentle breathe that hard raised the tiny chest she'd wrapped in her old white Cerberus uniform to keep him warm. His horns harmless little bumps against the soft pillow.

Something about the sight was like being slammed into a wall by a biotic, but without any of the pain. Is this how a mother felt, looking down at her young? She'd never had a mother and her experience in children was sparse. If someone could feel this emotion even more strongly, how could they survive it?

There were footsteps. Miranda barely had time to jump before the crate and hide him from view.

Shepard, as usual, didn't knock before entering.

"What was that noise?"

"What noise?"

"I didn't hear any noise."

They both received a mildly disturbed look. "I heard crying."

She nearly said something about Shepard's mental health, that a trip to the medical station was needed. But again, why add stress to a structure that wasn't necessarily up to code and already being weighed down?

Miranda locked her hands over her desk and looked at the professional white and black tunic. "Oh. That? That was the program I had playing on my holo-pad."

"It sounded like a baby."

"It's supposed to."

After no answer seemed to be upcoming, Shepard finally voiced the obvious question. "Why?"

The Illusive Man sent it. Spam message. Virus EDI let in. Joker did it. "It was meant to. To deal with stress." That made sense. Yes. What was more stressful than the baby weeping? Couldn't be construed wrongly-

"I found it very relaxing," Garrus threw in. She nearly glared at him. Internal movies of the Citadel's parts being torn apart and shredded away played.

Another alarmed look at them both. The human and turian looked back blandly polite.

"...I should go."

They waited a moment after the door had closed.

"Great. You've now made me an accomplice.

"Why do you even have him?"

"Someone has to take care of him. What, do you want someone like Jack to watch over him? Should I give him to Kelly to ask about his feelings-? Actually, maybe I can talk her into changing his diapers."

Now the turian was giving her the exact look Shepard had over the crying that had been overheard. "Why did you bring him on board?"

"I couldn't leave him in an abandoned mining shaft."

"Yes, fine, but why not leave him somewhere? Somewhere safe."

"What place is safer than by Shepard?"

"Uuuh-"

"Defeated a swarm of geth last mission alone. Beat a Spectre and a reaper on the same day. Savior of the galaxy."

The sound of him scratching at his scar rasped and echoed through the room. "I suppose there is some logic to that."

"And, well." She nearly cringed. "Because of the genetic engineering done, having a biological child may be difficult."

"Ah." He looked to be just as uncomfortable.

"So."

Garrus coughed. "Hm."

"..."

"Does he have enough food?"

Miranda shifted in her seat. He was a hungry growing little turian. "I could use more, actually."

"I'll make sure to drop some off."

She looked to her computer. "I have work to do. The ship doesn't run by itself. And I'll look over those calibrations you sent."

"Good." Garrus nodded with some finality and moved towards the door.

"Vakarian?"

"What?"

"Would you be willing to help me give him a bath? Last time, he nearly took out one of my eyes."

"I. I guess. Wait. How did you sneak him into the restrooms?"

Easier to be cryptic and leave out the part where she'd waited until nearly everyone was resting and using her biotic powers to lift him against the ceiling and slowly, gently drag him across the ship. He'd thought it had been great fun, especially when she lowered him down enough to catch. Having to wipe sweat from her brow one handed while he seemingly grinned up at her.

But water and soap he seemed to hate.

And all the more reason to get him now while he was sleepy.

"There's a reason why the Illusive Man trusts me."

The turian chewed that one over. Taking in how she'd been caring for an crying infant no one knew about for an entire week. "I suppose so."

"Just let me check my messages."

"Sure. Can I hold him?"

"Alright. Fine."

"...Look at those markings."

"What? His colony is dead, Garrus."

"I know. I'm not saying we take him back. I just meant. They're...nice markings. Kind of...cute? Is that the term?"

His gaze on the sleepy baby made Miranda feel smug. Of course he was cute. Even the 'Archangel' had a hard time not admiring his little face.

"His talons are already sharp. That's a good sign."

"Of what?"

"Hey, there little guy. Want to take a bath?" The alien's voice was higher-pitched than normal.

"He can't form full sentences yet. I don't think he understands you."

"I know. I know. Look at him, grabbing onto my talon like that."

She tried not to feel jealous over the baby immediately clinging to another turian whom was able to hold him without any fear of unexplainable scratches.

"You know," Garrus was barely a step above bouncing the child on his knee. "This is going to completely and utterly backfire on you, right?"

Miranda looked at the baby, smiling and looking utterly safe and secure under the doting muti-specied eyes. How he looked around the room at them both, blinking sleepily. "Perhaps. But it was worth it."

He moved his head away quick enough to dodge a swipe. "Did you put him in your old uniform?"

"I couldn't find anything else durable enough-Damn Shepard. Can't keep that mouth shut."

"What?"

"Doctor Mordin just sent me a link about turian physiology and what positions can prevent chafing. And Joker sent me one for a xeno porn site."

"I'm...not going to think about that."

"I've already deleted everything and put it out of my mind."

"Ooow!"

"Told you he was cranky. And that he liked to go for the eyes."

"Ow. Oooow. OW! I'm bleeding over here!"

"Wonder what I should name him...?"