Dread settled like a stone in Miranda's stomach as the door to her office hissed open, revealing the one person she both ached and feared to see.

"Shepard," she greeted, going for a neutral tone and mostly succeeding. She tried not to let any of her roiling emotion show on her face: the embarrassment, the worry, the want.

As it turned out, It didn't matter. Shepard hardly spared her a glance before she was striding into the room, brushing straight past Miranda in a beeline for the couch. "We need to talk," she declared as she planted herself on the cushions without preamble. Then she regarded the Cerberus officer pointedly; expectantly. The weight of her gaze, plus the fact that she'd used her commander voice, left Miranda little choice but to stand on shaky knees and submit to her will.

She didn't mind so much when it was Shepard, usually. Right now, though, Miranda was feeling like a child sent to the principal's office—if she had a massive crush on the principal, that is. She felt a flush creep up her neck and firmly told herself it was one of shame. She had a lot to be ashamed for in this moment. "I—I apologize for the way I acted," she managed as she perched on the very edge of a couch cushion, a safe distance from her commanding officer. "It was unprofessional, and—"

"Cut the crap," Shepard cut in, and Miranda was startled into silence. The woman's green gaze bored into her as she leaned forward intently. She was always so intense. "We might all die soon, Miranda. There's no time to dance around the issue. Do you want me or not?"

Miranda floundered for words. She'd been expecting a tongue-lashing, of course, but not quite like this. Something more along the lines of you were stupid. I want you off of field missions until your head is clear. Or go apologize to Gianna Parasini. Or I'll never want you like I want her.

She shook her head, rattling those thoughts loose. Shepard was still looking at her, and she tried not to squirm beneath that stare. She failed. "Of course I do," she finally managed, feeling as though that confession should have happened with a lot more weight; a lot more intimacy. A lot more willingness on her part. "But—"

"But what?"

"I told you before, Shepard. This mission is too important." The words fell flat as soon as they were out of her mouth. Even she didn't quite believe them anymore. "If we aren't totally focused, we could get someone killed. We could get you killed. And I am not anxious to spend two more years bringing you back again."

"Am I supposed to believe that you're totally focused right now? Bullshit," Shepard retorted.

"I'm trying—"

"To bottle up your feelings so no one can see? It's obviously not working, Miranda." Shepard leaned in further, and Miranda found herself wondering when the commander had gotten so close. The distance between them on the couch had vanished. She could see the stars reflected in Shepard's jade eyes as they softened along with her voice. "I know better than anyone that this mission is dangerous, but you're not doing anyone any favors by torturing yourself."

Miranda had never felt so helpless. "Then what do you suggest?" she asked, trying not to let herself sink into Shepard's orbit without a fight. Trying not to get distracted by the woman's close lips, her freckles, the gleam of her hair.

"Live a little," Shepard breathed, her own gaze dropping deliberately, and Miranda's efforts were dashed. "Before you lose the chance."

"It isn't that easy." Miranda found herself whispering, too, loath to shatter this moment despite herself.

"Isn't it?" Shepard's hand was burning a trail up her arm, curling around the back of her neck, and Miranda had no recollection of how it got there. All she knew was the woman's breath on her lips, the heat of her proximity, the darkness of her eyes. They were an inch apart, and Miranda knew that if she let that distance close, she wouldn't be able to drag herself away again.

So she closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and said, "Shepard, wait."

The commander pulled back, leaving a sudden chill in the space between them.

Miranda hated the separation, but forced out anyway, "I need to think about this."

"Scared, Miss Lawson?" Shepard teased with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Cautious," Miranda corrected, "but…interested." She caught Shepard's hand before it could withdraw from her completely and cradled it like something precious. Like a promise. The same way she said, "I just need a little more time."

Shepard's smile edged a little closer to genuine. "I'll be waiting."