The bleak blur of the room rushed before her. Miranda closed her eyes ready for the impact. As she was just inches from the floor, she felt slender fingers clutching her side in a firm grip. Whilst Jack slid her other hand under her arm, Miranda tried to oppose the gravitation pulling her downwards. What happened, how did she even get into that state? It wasn't her usual self, she was always careful not to go over the top and now there she was, struggling like a fish taken out of the water desperately trying to gather the strength required to straighten up.

When she finally got the opportunity to face Jack all her courage suddenly perished, just like that. Her gaze wandered to the floor, the only place she it could rest without the fear of confronting the other woman... or her own reflection. As she forced herself decided to look up, the first thing that stroked her was the pair of dark brown eyes she had no problem admiring just moments ago. Looking into them... It was simply too much. She felt her heart being torn apart, for so long she longed to see love and compassion on someone's face while looking at her. But the worry... She never wanted that. She shouldn't have let that happened.

The hard wood of a sideboard pressed onto her back caused her to fidget as she tried to lean back, unsure of where to rest her gaze. Everything seemed like a better option than the woman standing before her.

For a reason completely unknown to her conscious mind she felt her chin twitch and the muscles in her throat fighting each other, creating a lumpy feeling. Before she realized hot tears burst forth, streaming down her face and dropping on the floor.

This couldn't be real. All she had to do was get out of this nightmare but how?

She shot her head upwards. Blobs of shapes and colours danced widely before her eyes, leaving her with mainly smuged image of Jack staring at her wide-eyed.

"That would be enough drinks for you." Jack's voice seemed soothing and quiet. Not mocking as Miranda thought it would be. Maybe even as she wanted it to be. It would make it all so much easier.

Miranda tried to pull her hands up, but her muscles relaxed mid-air and dropped back down. Blinking repeatedly, her mind oscillated between wishing all of this was already over and wishing it could never end. The endless pool of darkness, the strength of the arms that held her just moments ago... All the tension that had gradually built up in her body over the years seemed to dissolve in the sedative sea of alcohol her organism was now drowning in. On the other hand, her stomach appeared to be in the middle of acrobatics practice.

A shade of green crept onto Miranda's pale face as she covered her eyelids with her hands, breathing heavily.

"Do you feel like throwing up?" A pair of cold palms pulled Miranda's hands away from her face and held up her chin. The touch was gentle and steady. Miranda let a quiet sight escape her lips at the thought how throughout her life the two were bereft from her.

The white light of the room reflected in the eyes hidden under the deep frown. Jack didn't find Miranda's response consisting of a mere bunch of slurred moans very satisfying."It's the last time I'm drinking with you, cheerleader."

"Noo..." Miranda groaned, now motivated to get herself together. If fighting the Reapers, her father and eventually Cerberus didn't break her then some beer and wine wouldn't either. She clutched to the top of the counter behind her like her life depended on it and started to pull herself up. "I'mm... fiine..."

"Stay there. I'll get you some water."

Psshh, the water bottle opened with a hiss. A short gulg filled the silence as the water filled the glass.

Jack kneeled down beside Miranda, whose face twitched the moment her lips touched the ice cold glass. But Jack was right - it would help her come to herself. She put her palms around the glass, bringing it closer to her mouth. The hot skin of her fingers brushed against Jack's hand as the vessel was passed. Looking up into the other woman's eyes she instantly recognized the anger flashing behind them. The corner's of Miranda's lips dropped slightly as she brought her eyebrows together. Of course it wasn't meant to go like that, but at this point there wasn't much she could do about the state she was in.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled before taking another small sip. The cold water filling her stomach was somewhat helpful, but she knew it would still take her some time to sort herself out and even more time to come to terms with this sort of embarrassment.

"From all the things," Jack paused, "you're sorry for getting wasted?" She arched a surprised eyebrow, leaning into a more comfortable position to support herself. The words echoed as if Miranda's mind was an endless well, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't make out much of them. Instead, she shrugged and tried to give her friend an apologetic look.

"Whatever. Don't stress about it now." Jack said.

Now. The word didn't put her at ease at all. But the reassurance that she'd get a chance to explain herself while sober was at least somewhat comforting.

The air around them seemed strangely hot and the colors uncomfortably lurid.

After Miranda was able to hold the glass of water on her own, Jack sat next to her, bringing one of her knees to her chest and gazing into the distance. Both of them seemed detached from reality and neither decided to speak. The only sound in the room was their breathing and the occasional clanking of the glass against the floor as Miranda put it back down after taking yet another sip.

A while later Jack sighed loudly and stood up. "Come on. I'll take you to your room." She said and reached out towards Miranda who without much hesitation accepted the hand and pulled herself up. The instant she stood up she regretted the decision. Her balance was still very off and if it wasn't for Jack's hand on her hip she probably would have fallen down again.

With her arm wrapped around Jack's neck, Miranda allowed the other woman to lead her through the apartment to her bedroom. She enjoyed feeling Jack's body so close to her own and found it fairly impressive how Jack despite her bony shape was able to support a great part of Miranda's weight, seemingly without much effort.

As they finally reached their destination the lights automatically went on, revealing a room that with its sterile-like environment to Jack always resembled more of a laboratory rather than a living space. White walls; a black-and-white bed in the corner; a white wardrobe that almost looked like it was part of the wall; a padded white chair... White, white, white, grey, black, oh look white again! The only thing that actually had any soul or color to it was a bunch of folders at the top of a grey desk. It always made her feel quite uneasy looking at the almost monochromatic setting. It reminded her of Cerberus. Of course it was no coincidence that she decided to pass the room down to Miranda.

Even though she would never admit it out loud, the years she spent on the Normandy and the time she invested in the Academy had changed her. She decided that in this particular situation it was best to assume a Shepard-like approach: do what she had to, get it over with.

Gently, she helped Miranda to sit down on the bed. When she was sure that the woman most probably would not meet the floor... again... she decided it was time for her to leave. Without another thought she rushed towards the door, happy to finally get out.

One meter, almost by the door.

Half a meter, the door opened with a swish.

She set her foot outside. She was safe-

"Jack?"

She stopped upon hearing a horse voice stained with an Australian accent calling from behind her.

Damn it! So close!

It took her a long moment of empty silence to respond. She hesitated, twitched a little bit but in the end she couldn't bring herself to face the other woman. She did her best, turning tilting her head a bit to her left to be able to recognize words in the mumbling that made up Miranda's speech. "What?"

"Can you... ugh, help me get changed?"

Jack could hear that Miranda was nearly as uncomfortable with that thought as she was.

No. Of course she couldn't help her get changed, what the fuck?! Was it her fault that Miranda got so wasted? Absolutely no, so why the fuck did she have to deal with the consequences of someone else's stupid decision? And Miranda's from all people...

But she had seen the other woman walk with her limbs floating and swinging mindlessly, and she knew that the chances the ex-Cerberus would... accomplish anything were slim at best. And obviously she wouldn't see anything she hasn't before. She had some history with quite a few women and so did Miranda, or at least she claimed to have. And something kept telling her she wasn't lying. A gut feeling you could call it. What they both agreed upon was that those women were always easily removable and replaceable. Well this time it wasn't the case.

Jack couldn't bring herself to speak; she just nodded in agreement; walked up to the wardrobe and opened it with one brisk move.

Quite a few times she had seen Miranda wandering the apartment at night, and for once she was thankful for that as picking the right 'outfit' wasn't much of a problem and in consequence made the whole torture much shorter. The fact that Miranda's clothing palette was, to Jack's surprise, very slim also made the choosing much easier. In the end she picked out a black tank top and shorts, something that Miranda used to wear often enough to make it a safe guess. No kids would come out of this, but she really wasn't in the mood for risks. Or kids for that matter.