Chapter Four
A Warm Place with no Memory

Location Withheld

There were few sounds in the room other than the steady beep emitted by one of the monitoring machines and the almost imperceptible sound of the woman in front of her breathing in her sleep. Dr Naomi Stone's soft footsteps led her directly to the side of the narrow bed where she stopped and stared down at Shepard. In sleep, all traces of the violence that had been evident following her awakening several days earlier had disappeared. Her dark lashes lay softly against her smooth, pale skin. The woman looked impossibly young – much too young to be the Hero of the Citadel and Saviour of Humanity.

And fragile, Stone mused as she noted the way Shepard's lips were parted slightly as she slept. A few strands of hair had worked their way over her face. Without thinking, the doctor reached out and smoothed them back behind her ear. The silken strands flowed between her fingers. Her fingers moved downwards, pressing gently against the soft skin of Shepard's face. Enjoying the touch, she could not resist pressing her entire hand against the side of her face and making gentle sweeping motions with her thumb. The unconscious woman startled her for a moment when she leaned into the touch. Stone did not remove her hand. Instead a small smile creased her face and she grew bolder. The pads of her fingers trailed lower, brushing against the tender flesh of Shepard's lips.

"How is our guest today, Dr Stone?"

This time Stone jerked her hand away. She whirled around to find her colleague, Dr Bryan Heller, standing in the doorway behind her.

"Vitals stable…although she is somewhat restless compared with yesterday," Stone replied, doing her best to keep her tone neutral as Heller entered the room. "I would suggest bringing her back out soon."

"Yes, well, thank you for your opinion, but I'm not in a hurry to have a repeat of the last little incident," Heller reminded her in an acidic voice. "I didn't particularly enjoy having a weapon shoved in my face."

I enjoyed you with a weapon in your face, Stone tried to keep traces of a grin from creeping onto her lips. "We've kept her under for four days already, Heller," she protested quietly. "I have no more tests to run on her in this state. I want her awake and responsive."

"I'll send the request up the chain." Heller did not sound overly enthusiastic. He came to stand on the opposite side of the bed as Stone regarded him with a closed expression. Heller wasn't looking at her any longer, he too was staring down at Shepard. As he studied the unconscious woman, he cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. "How could one woman survive so much? If I was a religious man, I would say that someone up above has a serious hard on for Shepard."

"Her survival has nothing to do with god or whatever hokey ancient religion you want to believe in," Stone pointed out in a methodical tone. "Shepard is amazing…in fact, she's beyond amazing. What Cerberus did to her when they rebuilt her following the Alchera incident, it's light years beyond any technology that the Alliance possess. In rebuilding her, Cerberus was able to make unheard of improvements to the types of upgrade packages we offer to Alliance soldiers. We're not just talking about eyesight corrections and strength enhancers, she has synthetic fabric woven into her bones, rendering them virtually unbreakable. Something similar has been done to her muscles with a micro-fibre weave enhancing both strength and durability – probably somewhere between thirty to fifty percent above average. Although her muscles were severely atrophied when we recovered her, they're regenerating at an unprecedented rate. Even without proper nutrition."

"Impressive without a doubt," Heller commented as though bored. "But surely not advanced enough to explain her survival of the Crucible's destruction…or that tech on her arm?"

Stone shook her head. "No, that I think can be explained by this…"

She pulled up a multi-dimensional scan that she had carried out shortly after Shepard's arrival at the facility. "See those fine white lines, that's the synthetic tech…however something has grafted itself to those structures on an atomic level…throughout her entire body. Notably around her heart." Stone moved the view on the diagnostic tool so that she could show Heller the scan of Shepard's heart. The outlines of the same crystalline material that made up her lower left arm, could clearly be seen on the walls of the organ. "It's the Catalyst…it clearly saved her life. As you can probably extrapolate, it was responsible for re-growing her lower arm and hand."

"Have you taken a sample?" Heller asked.

Stone shook her head. "I tried, however the substance is impenetrable…even for diamond-tipped cutting instruments."

"She truly is a marvel," Heller commented sarcastically.

Stone narrowed her eyes. "She is! Not forgetting of course that you argued against her retention in the first place."

Heller appeared unconcerned by the accusations in her tone. He simply shrugged. "You understand the consequences if word of her survival gets out. You know full well what kind of person Shepard is and where her sympathies lie. It could undermine everything the Alliance is working for-"

"Quit it, Heller," Stone muttered as she abruptly shut down her omni-tool. "You don't need to preach to me."

"Good," Heller said as he turned his attention to the unconscious woman lying in front of him. He also reached down and pressed his palm against Shepard's cheek. However, where Stone's touch had been gentle, he gave the skin a sharp slap. Shepard did not wake. "I'll take your request up the chain…let's see if we can wake your little lab rat up so you can play with her."

"I believe the term is study, Dr Heller," Stone stressed.

Heller lifted his eyebrows for a moment. He turned and made his way toward the door. "Call it what you will."

Stone breathed a sigh of relief when Heller left the room. It wasn't that she loathed his company, although he was particularly unlikeable, she just preferred to be alone with Shepard. In all truth, a part of her had been chagrined that Shepard had not shown the slightest recognition when she woke. There had been absolutely nothing in her blank gaze, and then she had started asking for that asari. However, in the subsequent days, she had assuaged her fears with the knowledge that Shepard had been confused and frightened. Stone was determined that next time she would be able to calm the woman more effectively.

She turned her attention back to Shepard, relieved to find that the red mark left by Heller's hand had already faded. With her heartbeat fluttering in an unruly manner inside her chest, she lowered her mouth close to Shepard's ear. "You must learn to accept your situation, my dear Evan, for both our sakes."

Earth's Orbit, Sol System

The undeniably familiar visual of the planet Earth gradually loomed larger across the canopy of the Normandy's cockpit. Although the planet had never been her own home, Ashley Williams nevertheless felt a strong affinity for humanity's home world. In the wake of the Reaper War, it had come to represent everything that they had fought to preserve. For the crew of the Normandy it represented what they had lost on a much more personal level - it was where Shepard had died.

Shifting slightly in the co-pilot's chair that EDI's physical body had once occupied, Ashley found the first twinges of nervousness starting to creep into the pit of her stomach. She put it down to a combination of exhaustion and overwork – or at least that was what she told herself when she had almost starting blubbing like an FNG when Garrus and Tali departed a few days ago with the Quarian ship – the Moray. At the first signs of trouble – a trembling lip and burning eyes - it had taken every ounce of her willpower not to give over to a storm of tears. Ashley managed to hold herself together until she was away from prying eyes in the Crow's Nest. With the help of several glasses of scotch, she'd allowed herself to give into the grief. What emerged wasn't just the fresh pain of losing Garrus and Tali, she finally acknowledged the unhealed wounds that had lingered for months. The next morning she had appeared on deck calm, composed and ready to face a Normandy without two of its most familiar residents.

Ashley discreetly smoothed the sweaty palms of her hands against her trousers. Beside her, Joker appeared to be too busy concentrating on their approach to spot his Commander's nerves. She distracted herself by scanning the other ships in orbit. As far as she could tell, all of them were Alliance vessels. She could not see a single ship belonging to one of the other Council races.

"How do you like the view, Commander?" Joker asked. He did not turn to look at her as his attention remained focused on the haptic displays in front of him.

"Amazing," Ashley responded honestly. "I'm seriously considering making this my permanent station."

"Don't take this the wrong way, ma'am…but please don't," Joker replied. "It's bad enough with EDI constantly making comments on my flying skills, let alone having my commanding officer looking over my shoulder as well."

{My comments are merely helpful suggestions formulated to provide advice and improve your overall flying technique,} EDI added. {It is my reasoning that you will become less reckless if offered appropriate alternatives.}

Joker gave Ashley a quick glance so she could see him roll his eyes. "See what I have to put up with?" The complaint was given in a fond tone that completely negated his protests.

"Don't worry, Joker. My place is on the CIC, that won't be changing anytime soon," Ashley reassured him. "Unless of course Alliance brass decides that someone else will do a better job of commanding the Normandy."

The pilot responded with a snort of derision. "Good luck getting her crew to accept that bullshit!"

Their eyes met again for a brief moment. Ashley gave her pilot a stern, level stare but he did not appear in the slightest bit apologetic for his words.

Ashley sighed and turned her attention back to Earth. "Whatever happens, we will be seeing a few new faces around here. I need a new XO for starters, a couple of junior officers and at least a full squad of marines."

"Junior officers, huh? Say, don't we know someone who graduated from OCS the other day?" Joker pointed out in an amused voice.

Ashley could not allow herself to share the pilot's amusement. "Second-Lieutenant Lawson will not be joining the crew-"

"Re-joining, ma'am," he interrupted. "Re-joining. We've had our differences in the past, but Miranda Lawson is as much a part of this ship as you or I."

"I know what you mean, Joker, but I cannot function with that woman on my ship."

"And I know exactly what you mean!" Joker added enthusiastically. When he turned to share the joke with the Commander, he found her regarding him with a look that said she was only a few seconds away from finding a creative way to make him suffer. "Sorry, ma'am."

"I don't know how you know the things you know, Flight Lieutenant," Ashley commented in a strict tone. "But I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your knowledge to yourself. There are some things that I would rather keep private."

For all Ashley's sincere feelings regarding Miranda, she did not think that the Alliance brass would react well to such fraternisation with a junior officer…not to mention one with a notorious past. As to what that was going to bode for their future, Ashley preferred not to dwell on that.

"Yes, ma'am," Joker replied in a relieved voice. A light flashed on his console to indicate an incoming message. "Uh, Commander, it looks like we've got an incoming docking request…damn, it's from the SSV Tai Shan…Fleet Admiral Kessler requesting permission to board. Err, Commander, you might want to go and dig out your dress blues."

"You have got to be shitting me," Ashley slammed her palm down on the armrest of her chair. However, when she leaned forward, she could see the unmistakable silhouette of the Alliance dreadnought, SSV Tai Shan, flagship of Fleet Admiral Hans Kessler, coming up on their starboard side. With most of Normandy's communiques coming through Hackett in the past, Ashley had never met the man. He was largely an unknown quantity, although she had heard that he was a traditionalist and a stickler for discipline. "Looks like we'll all be waiting a little longer for that shore leave."

Twenty minutes later, feeling like a well-dressed turkey, Ashley waited near the Normandy's airlock. Her sweaty palms had returned tenfold. However, in addition to the nerves, she felt a gnawing twinge of annoyance at the delay to her shore-leave. They had already passed the scheduled time when they were supposed to be docking at the space port in Melbourne, Australia. Ashley was buttoned up in her dress blues, standing at attention, when she ought to have been dragging on her civvies.

Dammit, Miri, she thought as the airlock warning light switched to green. You'll have to be patient for a little while longer. She cast a quick glance down the line of crewmembers in the greeting party. When she caught Sam Traynor's disgruntled expression, it conveyed exactly how displeased she was at being chosen for the privilege.

"Look sharp, Traynor," Ashley admonished gently. "We all have to do our bit."

"Yes, ma'am," the Specialist replied in a tight voice.

Ashley was expecting Fleet Admiral Kessler to be one of the first through the doors, however an ANN cameraman and reporter beat him through so they could establish the perfect shot of him boarding the Normandy. The opening shot caught Ashley with a scowl on her face. No one had warned her about reporters. She had only seconds to wipe it before the stern visage of the man himself strode onto the deck. Ashley and her surrounding officers and crew snapped smartly to attention, returning his salute in unison. The Fleet Admiral was a heavy-set man, and much younger than she had expected. His dress uniform strained against his barrel-like chest. Ashley did not think that any of his bulk was fat. Although his face was fixed into a sincere mask for the cameras, she found nothing but granite in the grey eyes that peered out beneath his thick black eyebrows.

"Commander Williams!" He extended his hand, pumping it once in a firm gesture. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you…and step aboard the Normandy for the first time."

Ashley flexed her crushed fingers discreetly when they were released. She was all too aware of the camera hovering just above her shoulder. It took all her energy to resist the urge to turn around and swat it away. "Welcome aboard, sir. It is an honour."

"Nonsense, the honour is all mine!" Kessler turned to a rather striking female officer standing at his side. "I'd like to introduce you to my aide-de-camp, Captain Cristiane Alves."

"Ma'am," Ashley saluted again as the woman responded with a small smile. As hard as she tried not to look, she had to admit that Alves filled out her uniform very well indeed. Her glossy black hair was styled short in a cut that accented her dark skin and well-proportioned features. Feeling slightly guilty for her appreciative reaction, Ashley set her mouth into tight, determined line. "Welcome aboard also."

"It is a beautiful ship, Commander Williams," Alves practically purred in a rather sensuous accent. "Simply beautiful."

Ashley thought she caught an odd flicker in the other woman's eyes. If she wasn't sure how to interpret it, then the resulting raking gaze that looked her up and down left her under absolutely no illusions about the intent behind Alves's scrutiny. "Thank you, ma'am."

"And what a fine-looking crew," Kessler commented with a smile as he looked down the perfectly straight line of Alliance personnel. "I thought there were also some non-humans on board, Commander?"

"The Normandy was fortunate to have several other races on board," Ashley replied, eager to focus her attention on the Admiral and away from Alves. "They've chosen to go their separate ways, some to return to their homes to assist with rebuilding…much to our loss and our regret."

"No doubt. They are to be commended for their efforts during the war, however the Normandy is a human ship and as such ought to have a human crew," Kessler said, his smile did not waiver an iota as the ANN camera zoomed in for a close-up as he spoke. "Well, Commander, are you going to offer me a tour of your ship?"

Ashley grew increasingly hot and irritated as time passed. Whenever she turned around, the damn ANN camera was hanging in her face catching every single irritated expression that she made. She answered the reporter's occasional inane questions as they arose, by far the most awkward being one where he directly asked her how she felt she compared to The Shepard. Ashley initially balked at the use of the title, before managing to stumble a response along the lines of no one being able to properly fill Shepard's boots.

"I'd like to set up a shot of the two of you in front of the Normandy's memorial wall," the reporter suggested as they emerged on Deck three. "Perhaps with The Shepard's plaque directly in the background."

"Shepard!" Ashley muttered under her breath. "Her name is Shepard."

For a moment Ashley was free of the camera as the ANN personnel adjusted some technical aspect of their equipment. She was left in an awkward silence with Kessler for several moments. Alves hovered nearby with her back to them. The Captain was seemingly intent on scanning the names on the wall. Ashley's gaze lingered for a few moments as the woman bent forward. Although she could appreciate it as an incredibly nice ass, she immediately compared it to Miranda's. Her girlfriend won hands down. Her relief at coming to such a conclusion was cut short when she realised that she was still staring at a superior officer in an inappropriate manner.

"Clearly not cut from the same mould as your Grandfather are you, Williams?" the Admiral suddenly remarked.

The question caught Ashley unawares. She jerked her gaze away from Alves. "Sir?"

"I had the dubious privilege of serving under General Williams at Shanxi," he explained in a low voice. "A Lieutenant on one of my first postings. I was part of the garrison that surrendered to those turian bastards. It took me a long time and a hell of a lot of hard work to erase that blot from my record, I expect you understand exactly what I mean."

Ashley had worked hard to rise above the stigma associated with the Williams name, but she had never viewed her Grandfather's actions in surrendering to the turians as a mere blot on a record. In her opinion Thatcher Williams was a hero who had saved countless lives through his selfless actions. It took an immense effort not to narrow her eyes and inject an undercurrent of venom into her tone when she replied.

"Yes, sir," Ashley said in a tight voice. "I do, sir."

"Good girl." He beamed at her before turning to the reporters and barking, "What's the hold up?"

Ashley scowled behind his back.

Melbourne, Australia

Ashley quickly shoved the last pile of clothes into her bag and drew it closed with a determined tug. When she paused for a few moments to consider whether she had forgotten anything, she found that her palms were so sweaty she had to wipe them on her thighs.

How can you be nervous? she asked herself as she hoisted the relatively light sack on her back. It's just Miranda.

Still, the Fleet Admiral's impromptu visit had increased her anxiety levels tenfold. Not only were they three hours late docking in Melbourne, Ashley was only just beginning to realise what other women were complaining about when they said they had nothing to wear. Officially on shore leave as of five minutes earlier when she had handed the Normandy over to the yard crew, Ashley was dressed in some of the scant civilian clothes she still owned - a plain white vest top, a pair of tight-fitting, well-worn jeans, and low, brown leather boots. Her hair she left unbound. It had grown so long it sat slightly below her shoulders.

Resigned to the fact that there was nothing she could do to improve her appearance, Ashley left the Crow's Nest. She found Sam Traynor still at her post in the CIC - the sole person who looked more boring than she did. The Specialist was still in her uniform as though she had absolutely no intention of getting changed into her civvies.

"Sam?" Ashley called out.

The Specialist made only a cursory attempt to look over her shoulder. "Oh, hello, Commander Williams."

Ashley sighed at the familiar tone in Sam's voice, and indeed the use of her rank when it clearly wasn't necessary. "You're still not annoyed about the whole snoring incident, because Garrus and I did not tell a soul, I swear."

"What?" Sam had not been listening. She finally stopped typing and turned, leaning back against her console. She folded her arms across her chest in a stubborn manner. "Oh, the snoring? No, it was mortifying at the time…but I assure you I'm completely over it." She saw Ashley lift her eyebrows suspiciously. "Honestly!"

"Whatever," Ashley wasn't entirely convinced, especially as Sam ducked her head nervously. "We're in port. I've handed the Normandy over to the refit team and the entire crew is off-duty – that includes you, whether you like it or not. I tell you what, I'll wait for you to change into your civvies and grab your duffel - you're having dinner with Miranda and me tonight."

Sam's eyes immediately went wide with fright. "Comman…Ashley, I'm leaving the ship, I promise…but please do not ask me to eat with the two of you…please? At least not tonight, not until you've spent at least twenty-four hours alone together and have managed to…get everything out of your system." She ducked her head in embarrassment.

Ashley didn't know whether to laugh or be slightly affronted, she settled for the former. "Okay, but we are going for drinks-" she paused and looked thoughtful for a moment"- maybe only a couple of drinks in your case and we're going to find you a gorgeous Australian girl that takes your fancy."

"Sure thing," Sam replied sincerely enough.

Ashley's nerves returned almost the moment she entered the airlock to leave the ship. She swung her duffel over her shoulder in a manner that she hoped was casual and stepped outside into the pleasant heat of autumn in Australia. From the moment her boots echoed on the gangway, it was obvious that the Docking Bay surrounding the Normandy was still under construction. Although the oversized mag-clamps that secured the ship in place were completed, the crew walkways and maintenance access could be described as temporary at best and ramshackle at worst. Through the gaps in the gangway beneath her feet, Ashley could see straight down to the ground some hundred metres below her. She started walking down, receiving a vigorous salute from the young marine privates on guard duty as she passed on her way to the elevator.

She kept searching her surroundings as she rode downwards in the large cage – designed for hauling equipment as opposed to passengers. Every fibre of her being was tensed in anticipation at seeing Miranda for the first time in over four months. When the door slid open at the bottom, no sooner had her boot hit the dry earth than her ears were accosted by a chorus of enthusiastic shouts and cheers of 'ooh rah.' Startled, Ashley found herself flanked by lines of uniformed marines. She looked left and right as, in unison, they snapped into a perfect salute. Feeling decidedly underdressed, Ashley responded awkwardly with her duffel still over her shoulder. Even as smiling, eager marines surged forward to shake her hand, her gaze wandered in a desperate attempt to find Miranda.

"You're the reason I enlisted in the Corps, ma'am," a young woman beamed as she pumped Ashley's hand in a firm grip. "It's an honour to actually meet you in person."

Ashley's cheeks burned. "Um…thanks-"

"You're an inspiration to women all over Earth," another added.

"Hell, you're an inspiration to all marines!" an Ops Chief shouted out. His battered face was covered with recently healed scars. "Ooh rah, ma'am!"

"Can we see your Black Widow?" another called out.

I sincerely hope that's not bad innuendo. "Well…it's still on board," Ashley admitted. "I wasn't planning on using it during shore leave."

Those nearest to her laughed. Several slapped her on the arms and back as more surged forward, all eager to have the opportunity to shake the hand of Commander Ashley Williams.

"Have you seen your poster, ma'am?" a grinning Private asked.

"Um…yeah," she replied. "I need to have words with someone about that-"

"Can I ask you out on a date, Commander Williams?"

Ashley gave a cocky, handsome Lieutenant a level stare as he grinned at her in the wake of his question. I'm spoken for, hovered on the tip of her tongue before she stopped herself. For a few moments all she could manage was an awkward shake of her head before she thought of a more appropriate response. "I already have a wife, Lieutenant. She weighs forty kilos, is effective against armour, shields, and biotic barriers and can punch through twenty-five centimetres of cover without armour-piercing mods."

Even as the marines laughed around her, Ashley tried to push her way forward while craning her neck in an effort to see over their heads. Although she was genuinely touched by some of their comments, she was overawed by what she saw as undeserved attention and praise. All she had ever done was her job. After shaking what seemed like the hundredth hand, Ashley soon found a pocket of space in which to breathe. It was at that point that her gaze finally came to rest on the one person she actually wanted to see. Everything stopped in that one moment. She could no longer hear the eager questions or feel the bodies pressed up against her on, everything was silent except the sudden quickening of her breath.

Damn, she looks hot, Ashley thought. Her fears about her appearance returned a thousand-fold. Miranda Lawson was standing well away from the crowd. Although also dressed in civvies, Miranda had chosen a patterned dress that hugged her upper half before floating outwards down to mid-thigh. The material was so light that it fluttered slightly in the almost non-existent breeze. In attempting to keep a low profile, Miranda was wearing a pair of oversized glasses and her hair was piled atop her head in an arrangement that somehow managed to be both perfect and scruffy at the same time. The entire picture was so casually elegant it would render her unrecognisable to anyone who didn't know her well.

There was a distinct lump in her throat as Ashley emerged from the throng. With the marines still milling around behind her, somehow her legs carried her across the distance. Even though the sun was not overly hot, it felt like it was baking against her exposed skin. Her nerves combined with the heat to render her lightheaded as she approached the brunette. It took every iota of her willpower to keep from dumping her duffel bag on the ground and hauling Miranda roughly into her embrace.

"Williams," Miranda murmured quietly. The corners of her mouth curved upwards into a gentle smile. "Are you done signing autographs?"

For some reason Miranda's accent sounded even more pronounced in her native country. It brought an amused smile to Ashley's face.

"I'm sorry I'm so damn late." The fingers of her free hand twitched involuntarily in an effort to reach closer to the other woman. With subtle movements of her eyes, Ashley's gaze lingered over her lover's outfit, noting how it clung to her curves in all the right places. "You are undeniably…" She searched for a word that was more expressive than simply saying hot. "Stunning."

"I could say the same for you too." Miranda's smile broadened as Ashley raised her eyebrows and looked down at herself with a confused frown.

"I look like utter crap," Ashley protested.

"I think I'm qualified to say otherwise."

Ashley's frown deepened. "What do you mean? M, it's not funny whatever it is you're doing. They're all the civvies I've got-"

Miranda moved in a step closer so she could lower her voice. "Shut up and follow me, Ash. It's clear that the only way I'm going to convince you how gorgeous you are is by grabbing your fingers and making you feel how fucking wet I am...and I'm not about to do that in front of the entire Marine Corps."

SSV Normandy SR-2

"Sure thing."

Sam injected just enough enthusiasm into her voice to convince Commander Williams to leave her alone. She then made sure that the other woman had disappeared from the CIC completely before she turned her attention back to her work station. The haptic display welcomed her rapidly moving fingers back like old friends and, in only a few moments, it was as though she had never been interrupted.

{You lied to the Commander, Sam,} EDI announced suddenly, ruining Sam's concentration once again. {You have no intention of leaving the ship. Does that make you guilty of insubordination?}

"How can you tell I have no intention of leaving the ship?" Sam demanded. She gave up her attempts to work and folded her arms across her chest. "Unless you've suddenly developed new powers and I know you can't read minds. You're just an annoying AI with far too much time on her hands."

{On the contrary, Sam, I am currently running a multi-dimensional diagnostic of Normandy's antiproton thrusters to determine the reason for a 0.03% decrease in efficiency over the past five days.} EDI explained. {With Jeff's assistance, I am also in the process of locking down my core systems to prevent tampering by the Alliance refit team. And I can still find the processing power to determine that you lied to the Commander. Evidently, I am more suited to multi-tasking than you are.}

"Showing off is not an endearing trait, EDI." Sam remained stubbornly unimpressed. She cocked her head to one side and frowned. "Why is Joker still on board?"

{Why are you still on board, Traynor?} was Joker's almost immediate reply. {I can't seriously believe you turned down the opportunity to have dinner with the Commander and Miranda. I would have paid a month's wages to be present!}

Sam did not dignify his comment with a reply. Instead she persisted with her question. "I'm still on board because if I relax I'll be reminded how shit my life is," she admitted quietly. "My parents are dead and my potential girlfriend dumped me for her wife…but hey, at least I'm still alive." She tried to inject an element of enthusiasm into her voice, but it still came out sounding decidedly flat. A part of her still clung to a vague hope that Nick and Radha Traynor had somehow survived the Cerberus atrocity on Horizon, but that part was often silenced by a cruel rationality that told her they had died.

In response, there was nothing but silence for almost a minute. {The one person I want to spend shore leave with…can't leave the ship anymore,} Joker eventually replied.

"Oh, Joker," Sam whispered. EDI was trapped on board the Normandy because her physical body had been destroyed defending her during the Battle for Earth. "I am so sorry."

{It was not your fault, Sam,} EDI responded. {The loss of my mobile platform was…undesirable, but I would not have been able to act in any other manner. You were in danger and the mission needed to be completed.}

{And I don't hate you either,} Joker added reassuringly. {What do you say to you, me, EDI's disembodied presence, a couple of beers and a copy of Asari Confessions 15: Once you go Blue, You'll never go Back? It's an undeniable classic.}

"That sounds like the best offer I've had in a long time," Sam replied, even managing a small smile.

Melbourne, Australia

"I'm sorry about your dress," Ashley whispered.

An exhausted laugh followed a few seconds later. "It was a very nice dress," Miranda commented softly.

Ashley was lying flat on her back staring up at the ceiling as she regained her breath. The sweat that had pooled between her breasts was gradually drying and she felt some measure of feeling returning to her legs. Eventually she managed to roll over and prop herself up on an elbow so she could stare at Miranda. She could see the side of her lover's face as she looked towards the floor, probably staring at the tattered remnants of her dress. Miranda's naked body was perfect in any light, but the moonlight rendered it like marble – pale and unblemished save for the dark areolas of her nipples and the inviting triangle of hair nestled between her legs.

"In all honesty though, you look much better out of it." Ashley grinned.

"If you're trying to make amends for destroying it…you're doing a very good job," Miranda replied. "And I don't just mean the compliment." A satisfied sigh escaped her lips. "Another couple of days of that and I shouldn't need to see you for another five months."

Ashley couldn't bring herself to laugh as Miranda's gentle teasing may as well have been the truth. They had a week together, beyond that there was absolutely no guarantee when they would see each other again. With their relationship being a closely guarded secret, it would be difficult to find any sort of synchronicity with future periods of leave.

As Ashley found herself sinking close to one of her moods, she reached for Miranda. "Come here you." As folded the other woman contently against her body, the gloom swiftly dissipated. "What makes you think I can keep that up for days on end?"

"It doesn't all have to be quite so energetic," was the murmured reply. Clearly Miranda's own exhaustion was catching up with her. She closed her eyes as she nuzzled against Ashley's chest. She trailed her hand lazily up and down the length of her muscular flank as she had dreamed of doing so often during her uncomfortable nights in her bunk at OCS. "Maybe we can just do this for a few hours?"

Ashley did grin as she rested her chin atop Miranda's head. "Spending hours with a naked woman in my arms? That doesn't sound so bad."

"Ash…just make me one promise?" Miranda asked a few moments later.

"Okay...within reason." Ashley trailed her fingertips through Miranda's soft hair.

She couldn't remember exactly when the perfectly mussed hairdo had come unravelled – probably sometime between the dress-ripping incident and the last frantic minute before they had driven each other to climax with merciless tongues and thrusting fingers. Or one of the several orgasms that had followed.

"No talk about the bloody Alliance Navy, not for a few days at least. I don't want to have to say 'sir' or 'ma'am' or engage in an energetic activity that isn't fucking," she explained in a firm voice.

"Damn!"

Miranda drew back slightly so she could look at Ashley. She found a rather disappointed expression on her lover's face. "What was that for?"

Thoroughly enjoying the resulting confused expression on her lover's face, Ashley grinned as she wrapped each of her hands around Miranda's. With a fluid shifting of her weight, she rolled her body atop the other woman's and pinned her back against the bed. The dark strands of her hair cascaded forward, brushing against Miranda's naked shoulders.

"I was rather hoping you would show a woman of my rank a little respect this week, Second-Lieutenant," she said in a perfectly composed voice.

Miranda's eyebrows lifted in indignant surprise. "Fuck no." She shook her head and laughed. "We are not playing that game, Ash!"

Ashley arched one eyebrow. "I do believe that's ma'am to you, Lawson."

Ignoring the ineffectual struggles against her restraining grip, she manoeuvred one of her thighs so it was nestled in between Miranda's. As she pressed the limb hard against Miranda's core, she was aware of the lingering moisture from their earlier lovemaking. That warmth, combined with the defiance sparkling in Miranda's eyes, was enough to rekindle her barely sated desire. She began moving her body in a gentle but insistent rhythm. Despite her protest, Miranda's lips parted slightly and she could not completely stifle the resulting groan. With her hair creating a curtain around their flushed faces, Ashley lowered her head and helped herself to another kiss. Unlike the bruising passion they had employed from their first moment of privacy, it was slow and languorous. As their tender flesh melded together to create a fierce heat, Ashley continued to move against her lover.

With a whimper of protest from Miranda, Ashley ended the kiss and levered her body into a sitting position. With one hand she grabbed her hair and swiped it back out of her face so she could clearly see Miranda splayed out beneath her. As her lover watched expectantly through half lidded eyes, Ashley began caressing her upper body with firm but gentle hands. She paid special attention to the nipples, tweaking and pinching them between her thumb and forefinger.

"I'm still not playing your game, Ash," Miranda said in a breathy whisper. A sigh of sweet torture escaped her lips.

Ashley arched her eyebrows as her hands trailed a little lower, over the smooth skin of Miranda's stomach. "Are you sure, Second-Lieutenant Lawson? Because I might stop doing what I'm doing if you don't comply."

"Ash," Miranda growled. Her eyes were closed, lips already parted in expectation. "You wouldn't dare."

Without a word of explanation, Ash stopped the downward trajectory of her hand. She simply sat, staring down at Miranda, well aware that her knee was still pressing against a sensitive spot. Remaining still took some measure of self-control on her part. The most beautiful woman in the world was naked beneath her. All Ash wanted to do was to touch, to memorise every curve so she could file it away in her memory for the times when they were apart.

Although she did enjoy the expression of sheer irritation on Miranda's face. Immensely. A laugh bubbled up in her throat as she gratefully acknowledged just how happy she was. In a world that felt as though everything had been ripped from its foundations and tipped upside down, she had found her anchor. Miranda opened her eyes. In the dim light, the blue appeared black.

"This isn't funny," Miranda muttered, her hips instinctively rocking, grinding her sex against Ash's knee in an effort to find some relief. "But I'm still not giving in."

"Oh, I'm not laughing about your situation," Ash said quickly. "I'm just…grateful. But I almost feel guilty about it. When so many people have lost everything, I've found my everything."

Miranda's gaze softened. "You're a sentimental idiot." Her tone was soft, appreciative. "Come down here and wrap your damn arms around me, Williams."

"Yes, ma'am," Ashley replied readily.

As Miranda folded her body in close, head tucked in against her breasts, leg thrown over one hip, Ashley realised just how exhausted she was. The desire was still there, still only barely sated, but so too was the knowledge that they could fall asleep and then pick up where they had left off. That was a given.

For a while, Miranda's fingers trailed nonsensical patterns over her back that left her skin tingling. Then that too stopped. A minute or so passed and she supposed that Miranda had fallen asleep. A contented smile crept onto Ashley's face and she closed her eyes. Her body was already eager to embrace sleep.

"Ash?"

"Miri?" As Ashley spoke her lips brushed against Miranda's forehead.

"You are undeniably shit at this game. You're not supposed to call me ma'am."