7.

"Aren't you the least bit uncomfortable doing this?"

"I dunno. I think it'd be kinda fun, actually," Shepard said, shrugging. "Besides, Samara needs my help."

Miranda raised a dubious eyebrow. "Seducing an Ardat-Yakshi…fun. Shepard, what you consider fun is what most people would consider kind of stupid."

"I've noticed that pattern in my life," came the glib reply. "How do I look?" Shepard asked, striking a pose with her hands on her hips.

"You're wearing your regular casual clothes," observed Miranda. "Not going to even impress her with a better outfit?"

Shepard smirked, her chuckle low and throaty. "Oh, Miranda," she said loftily. "I know hundreds of ways to impress a woman." She strutted towards the elevator, sauntering in and tossing Miranda a smoldering look before the doors closed. "And half of them don't even involve clothing at all."

Gleefully, she waggled her fingers in goodbye as the elevators whizzed shut, delighting in the twinge of pink she spotted on Miranda's cheeks.

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You owe your race nothing, Shepard. I know everything. I know how your parents abandoned you, how everyone else did on your pathetic blue planet, how you had to fend for yourself, all alone. Isn't that right?

"Yes," Shepard agreed softly, thinking of her rough childhood on Earth spent running with gangs and living off the streets. "But that changed," she protested, albeit weakly.

Did it? You joined the ranks, but how many superior officers tried to bed you on the way to the top? How many soldiers thought you were just another pretty face?

A flash, like a snapshot, went through Shepard's mind. A younger version of her, struggling with an older soldier, shoving him off of her in a dark corridor of the Academy.

"Fuck you!" the younger Shepard spat at the nameless, random soldier as he continued his pursuit.

"Come on, Private, don't you want it?" He grabbed at his crotch, laughing. "See another Private's privates?"

She kicked him there, and he doubled over, crying out. "I said, fuck you," she snarled, before snapping a knee to his nose and making sure it broke.

"Dyke," he hissed as she walked away, forcing herself not to cringe.

"Too many," Shepard growled at the memory, clenching a fist absently.

And the ambassador? And your so-called friends? No one ever wants to believe you, Shepard. No one ever trusts you. No one ever wants to until it's too late, and you're needed to save the day. And then you're discarded as soon as you've served your purpose. Isn't that right?

Udina's scornful face. Williams' disgust. The Council's rejection. Shepard felt like she was burning up, her insides intent on raging war within her until they exploded and she was left hollowed out and empty.

"Yes," she grated out between gritted teeth, sweating. "Yes. They used me."

Yes. They all used you.

Harbinger brought forth an image of Miranda, ice in her eyes and an impatient hand on her hip.

Miranda eyed her warily. "I'm not looking for new friends, Commander."

Shepard was a little taken aback, but refused to let her voice show it. She spoke levelly, calmly: "This doesn't have to be difficult. We're on the same side here."

A disdainful, doubtful look tossed her way, dismissed like she was just another Cerberus grunt not worth the time. "We have our mission. We can either do it or talk about it. I just hope you prove to be as useful as the Illusive Man thinks you are."

Shepard's fist clenched even tighter, nails piercing crescent shapes on her palms like bloody half-moons.

And her. "Useful," was it?

Shepard walked past the armory, overhearing Miranda and Jacob's heated exchange on one of the first nights aboard the new Normandy.

Their voices were muffled, but Jacob's passionate insistence was loud enough to get past the metal doors. "Give her a chance. Give her a break, at the very least. The woman was dead, for Christ's sakes. Do you always have to be so damned cold-hearted?"

A derisive snort answered his question. "Oh, Jacob." The voice was intentionally condescending. "This mission….my mission…will be accomplished, either because of this crew or in spite of it. It doesn't matter to me. But I didn't waste two years and billions of Cerberus' creds to spoon-feed an idealist with a superhero complex."

Her jaw clenched, and a little voice niggled in the back of her mind, but it was practically silent compared to the rumbling, ominous dark voice that overshadowed all else.

She doesn't trust you either, does she? She's just using you like the rest of them, she'll probably even admit to it if you even asked her. No one brought you back from the dead, because they wanted you or because they missed you, did they?

Memories of a painful resurrection to chaos and gunfire exploded into Shepard's mind, Miranda's urgent voice screeching at her. Ironic that she was brought back to life, woken specifically at that moment, just to avoid her own death. Then it was a blur of unfamiliar faces and bad news. The first smile she saw was the conniving one on the Illusive Man's face, and it wasn't exactly friendly so much as smug.

Shepard didn't respond.

No. Everyone, those of your own kind, just has a use for you. My kind and yours… they are not so different, are they? She – again, Miranda's haughty smirk appeared, and Shepard's frown deepened - wanted to control your mind herself, with a chip in your brain. Is that not worse than what we do? We at least have given you a choice, Shepard, as we have given all of our followers. The turian, Saren, the asari matriarch, Benezia…all of them. We did not implant chips. We merely…persuaded. Isn't that right?

"Yes. You persuaded." She repeated hollowly.

Harbinger's chuckle rang out. Have we not always given you the truth, Shepard? The truth about your species' fate. The truth about your resistance's futility. We have always been honest, and never lied about our use of you. We've never lied, and any truths we've told, as painful as they may be to you, were only to spare you the trouble of trying to stop the inevitable.

Shepard nodded haltingly, as if it hurt.

Then, if it is all over for you and your species, why not take revenge when it's due? Take them all down with you because they do not deserve any better. Isn't that right, Shepard? Isn't that right?

Blue eyes turned into steel, glinting in the harsh glow of the artificial lights aboard the Collector ship as she picked up her Revenant in determination, gripping it with sweaty palms.

Her voice was as cold as the ice in her veins and the clammy sweat on the back of her neck.

"Yes. That's right."

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Miranda fell back onto the pillows, her hair mussed and damp with sweat, one hand still clutching at the dark head that lingered between her legs.

"Wait, wait…" Panting, she gasped out, "My god, but you're good at that."

Shepard pressed kisses to her inner thighs, and then dragged her mouth upwards, as if mapping Miranda's body with her tongue. Biting teasingly at the flesh of her hip before resting her chin there, Shepard smirked. "You did say you settled for nothing but the best."

A blue eye winked at her as Shepard hoisted herself above Miranda, resting her weight on her elbows as she peered down at the other woman. Miranda chuckled. "Yes, I did say that. But I've never felt like that with anyone before. That was…" She paused, searching for the word. "Phenomenal."

"Hmm…" Shepard hummed in satisfaction, smiling. "Years of experience, darling."

Miranda swatted at her bare backside, the resounding slap echoing in time with Shepard's yelp. "Harlot."

Shepard's pout turned into a wicked grin. "You're cruel, Miss Lawson," she whispered, trailing her hand down beneath the sheet once more. "I like it."

"Is that so?" Miranda teased, hips already surging upwards in anticipation.

"Yes, even though your insults are from the Victorian era," Shepard said dryly. "I mean, 'harlot.' Really?" A firm grip grasped Shepard's descending wrist, forbidding it to reach its desired destination. "Ow," she frowned.

"Well, if my insults aren't good enough for you, why would the rest of me be?" Miranda sniffed haughtily, feigning offense.

Shepard peppered kisses along her jawline in apparent apology, until she pulled away abruptly and said cheekily, "Good thinking. It probably isn't."

Squawking in outrage as Shepard laughed at her, Miranda wrestled with Shepard's flailing arms until a few breathless moments later, she managed to wind up on top, straddling the other woman's hips with her own. Pinning Shepard's arms to the bed, Miranda feigned an intimidating look. "You take that back," she threatened, lips hovering just above Shepard's with the promise of a rewarding kiss, should the Commander provide the right answer.

"Or else what?"

Miranda looked coy. "Or else I'm sure I could find someone else that thinks I'm worth it." She'd expected Shepard to retaliate with a scowl or pout at the threat, but instead, Shepard burst out laughing. Miranda frowned, a little miffed. "What's so funny, Commander? Is that so hard to believe?"

Shepard's eyes twinkled, her smile impossibly fond. "Yes," she said, hardly contrite and far too confident. "I hate to inform you, but now that I've finally got you I'm just never letting you go. Sorry about that," she teased.

"Oh," Miranda said, cheeks burning a little. "Well…" she drawled, ducking her head and finally swooping down for a kiss.

"Well what?" Shepard asked, licking her lips after Miranda pulled away with a little smirk.

A devastatingly sexy grin, and then,

"I can't say I'm sorry about that at all."

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"Is she alive? What's her status?" Miranda asked shakily over the din of echoing, approaching footsteps.

"The Commander's life signs are stable. The geth is active as well. Acting Commander," EDI paused, sounding as concerned as an AI could. "They are both still in the cargo hold, but the Collector waves themselves have dispersed. The Commander and the geth are not moving at all, just staying in the cargo. "

Hesitating but for a second, she glanced at Jacob before seeing him nod grimly.

"We'll try and hold the line," he said.

"Any of you, squad or crew, that has biotic powers… Be prepared to use them, create shields if you can. We don't know if they've got any damned seeker swarms with them," Miranda said hurriedly. "Joker, can't you do something? Get us away from that damn ship!"

"The virus on the IFF is preventing Jeff from controlling the Normandy. Acting Commander, if you give me the ship, I can help you."

"What? No," Miranda's instinctual answer burst from her lips as pounding on the metal doors grew louder, Collector chirps coming closer. Sweat beaded on her forehead. "I…we need to get to the Commander first," she said. "Get me a way to the cargo hold without dealing with the Collectors directly."

"There is a maintenance shaft through the medical bay. Acting Commander, if you give me the ship I can bypass the IFF virus and open the airlocks," EDI reasoned calmly. "I can seal off this level and evacuate the rest."

"And what of the rest of the crew?"

"Many of them have already been taken aboard the Collector ship."

"Damn it," Miranda growled before heaving a quick but heavy sigh. She hoisted her submachine gun up, already sprinting towards the medical bay and the maintenance shaft. "Suppressing fire!" she shouted back towards the remaining crew that kept wary eyes on the doorways, bending under the force of the Collectors' blows.

"Giving control to a damned AI…." She grumbled as she stuffed herself into the maintenance shaft, scraping an elbow. "EDI, we're going to just fight them off. We can do this, we can…I'll get the Commander and we'll kill them all."

"There is a 2.943% chance of survival should you attempt that."

"God damn it," the Cerberus operative snarled, sliding down the air vent further into the darkness. "Fine! I'm getting Shepard and we'll report back to this level. Be prepared to release the airlocks once we do," she warned, her voice echoing through the dark shaft in the Normandy's underbelly.

Miranda scrambled in the pitch black of the vent, as she heard the doors in the distance finally give in with a few more heavy thuds and rounds of gunfire. Among the screams, she heard a frantic Kelly Chambers shout warningly, desperately:

"They're here!"

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Miranda traced delicate fingertips over the smooth skin of Shepard's lightly muscled back, which twitched a little in response, eliciting a chuckle.

"I can hear you thinking all the way over here," came Shepard's muffled voice, her face buried in a pillow.

"One of us has to," Miranda said easily, the pressure of her fingertips increasing until her touch was no longer tickling, but rather, soothing. A snort was Shepard's charming response. "All of this…was easier than I expected."

"Again with the slut jokes?" A finger poked her in the stomach until laughingly, Miranda grabbed it and kissed the offending digit.

"You know what I mean, ass."

Shepard shifted so that only half of her face was buried in the pillow, and a twinkling blue eye peeked out. "I know."

"It's only been a few days…but I…"

Miranda paused, looking hesitant, until Shepard fully rolled over on her side to face Miranda, their faces a scant distance apart. "It's been a long time coming, I think," Shepard said in a hushed voice, quiet although she didn't need to be. "For me at least."

"Is that so?" Miranda said, her voice equally soft.

A smile bloomed on Shepard's lips until she charmingly, inexplicably, rubbed her nose against Miranda's. "Mm-hmm. Of course at first I thought you were attractive. After all, it's not often you're woken up back from the dead by the genetically-engineered perfect woman." Miranda simply rolled her eyes. "But then you were ragingly bitchy self," Shepard continued, despite the pinch she had to dodge. "Hey, watch it! Jesus. Anyway. And then…"

"Then…?"

It may have been a trick of the light, but it looked like Shepard's cheeks reddened a little as she cleared her throat. "I've seen a lot of things, met a lot of people all over the galaxies," Shepard said, a seeming departure from her earlier point. Her expression changed, and sobered. "And you're gorgeous, no doubt about that." She lifted a hand to brush a dark strand of hair that had fallen into Miranda's eyes. "But I saw the way you looked at Oriana, before you decided to talk to her. All fragile and strong at the same time, but just…loving. Truly happy. And then I just felt it, you know?"

"Felt what?" Miranda whispered, holding her breath for reasons unknown.

"Like…like I was looking at the most beautiful damned woman I would ever see in my entire…" Her brow furrowed momentarily until a toothy smile came to her lips. "Well, both of my entire lifetimes."

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"How's the crew holding up, EDI?" Miranda asked into her comm link as she continued to crawl through the bowels of the Normandy.

"Better with the squad members there, but there are still too many Collectors and not enough cover," EDI replied.

"And Shepard?"

"Still in the cargo bay with the geth, Acting Commander. Life signs are normal, but she still hasn't left although she is capable of moving."

Why hadn't Shepard escaped already? Was she horribly injured? Was the geth holding her hostage?

"All the Collectors have evacuated the hold, right?"

"Yes, Acting Commander. They have all dispersed throughout the Normandy, although their point of entry and exit still remains in the cargo bay with Shepard."

Grunting, Miranda slid down the last of the ladders, muttering all the while to stave off the growing sense of panic and confusion that welled up within her. "Damn it. What the hell is she doing…?"

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Miranda stared out listlessly at the endless darkness of space and stars, unable to look the other woman in the eye as she unloaded her heaviest burdens. "All of your accomplishments can be attributed to your skills. The only things I can take credit for are my mistakes."

There was a dreadful silence as Miranda wondered briefly if her tenuously formed friendship had just been destroyed in the face of her embarrassing, pathetic woes. Then there was a snort, and Miranda nearly jumped out of her skin.

"You fucking kidding me?" Shepard asked, her casual tone assuring a lack of malice.

"What?"

"You've got all of these genetic gifts, and that's fantastic and all, but that doesn't mean shit," explained the Commander, a hand resting on her hip. Miranda could only stare, a little stunned, as Shepard continued. "What matters is how you use them. And from what I've seen, you've used them pretty damn admirably."

"…Perhaps," Miranda said, still a little doubtful.

Impassioned with her argument, Shepard stepped forward with an earnest look in her eyes. "Listen. I know you know everything about me. I know you've seen all of my records, all of my history." Fierce blue eyes stared Miranda directly in the eye, unwavering.

"Yes," she admitted.

Shepard held her gaze. "Then you know my mother died when I was young, and my father loved drinking so much that he let it kill him a few years later after he got tired of beating me. Miranda, if my family genes were all that mattered, then I'd be nothing more than just another violent, abusive alcoholic."

"Shepard…"

"I'm not trying to throw myself a pity party here. I've come to terms with all of that." Shepard heaved a small sigh. "But we're more than what we are, Miranda. You're more than that." Her lips quirked in a small half-smile to take the sting out of her words as she continued. "One day I hope I can make you see that."

Miranda remained speechless despite the overwhelming, unbearable urge to agree.

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Now is the time for action, Shepard.

"I'm looking," she insisted, pacing around the cargo. The geth watched her silently, but made no move to wander about as she had.

The others have not returned yet with the last of the harvest. Be prepared for when they do.

Gunfire, shouts, and heavy thuds echoed from the other floors, muted against the walls of the cargo bay.

Shepard narrowed ice blue eyes in frustration, still pacing.

Your crew's efforts are as commendable as they are futile.

The dying roar of a Praetoria practically silenced all other noise, and Harbinger notably paused.

Our exit may have to be made in haste.

"No kidding," she retorted, until muffled thumping, growing increasingly louder and closer, burst forth from one of the maintenance shafts, a feminine grunt pricking Shepard's ears. Finally, the maintenance door kicked open, knocked off its hinges, and familiar booted feet came into view as a body squirmed out of the small tunnel.

"What the hell?" Shepard muttered softly to herself.

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"What the hell?" Jacob Taylor roared, sweat dripping down his face.

Shepard panted, barely able to regain her breath, but grinning nonetheless. "It's okay, Jacob, it happens to the best of us," she mock-pouted, biting back laughter. "We can try again in thirty minutes, if you like."

"Like hell," he grumbled, but she could tell it was all in good nature. Her arms strained as she hoisted herself up from the floor, the muscles bunching with a familiar acidic burn in which she reveled.

"Oh, don't be such a sore loser, Jacob," Miranda teased, leaning against one of the armory tables in amusement.

"I do two hundred push-ups a day," he argued. "Two. Hundred. How the hell did she beat me?" He rubbed absently at one bulging bicep.

Shepard tsk-tsked admonishingly. "Don't you know yet never to pit against me in any sort of contest, no matter how good you think you are?" She preened a little, and Miranda held back a laugh as Jacob continued to glower.

"Here," he grumbled, forking over a handful of credits to Miranda without preamble.

Shepard laughed outright. "You made a bet?" she asked incredulously as Miranda counted the money with a small smirk on her lips.

Jacob folded his arms in front of him defensively. "About who would win," he muttered.

Snorting, Shepard stretched her overworked limbs. "You've got a lot to learn, Jacob. Take it from Miranda," she winked at the dark-haired woman conspiratorially, "Now that's a woman that knows a sure thing when she sees one."

Letting go of her typical reserve in the face of Shepard's infectious mood, Miranda finally chuckled a little, ignoring Jacob as he walked off to sulk and deliberately catching Shepard's eye with her own, smirking.

"Don't worry, Commander. My bet's on you every time."

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There was a ragged, broken sigh of relief she simply couldn't hold back at the sight of her, as all rational thought of protocol and caution disappeared from her mind in a flash.

"Shepard, thank God you're all right, I…" She frowned, the strange tingle in the back of her neck growing more powerful. "Shepard? What are you doing? It's me."

"Oh, I know that," came the lofty response. "I was wondering what was taking you so long, Miranda."

Shepard smiled, still aiming the Revenant at the spot between Miranda's widened blue eyes.