Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect or any of its characters. They are products of BioWare, EA and certainly not me. This fan fiction is for entertainment purposes; no profit or intrusion of copyright is intended.

Note: Thanks to the readers and reviewers. I intend to finish this story and then do another to add more Miranda/Shepard to Mass Effect 3 within my Shepard's universe. Shoot a review or a PM if you want to see me do that. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Shepard stood at the center of the traditional grounds for the Krogan ritual rite. His eyes scanned the area with professional awareness, taking note of cover, ammunition and scattered medi-gel packs. Grunt paced restlessly, demanding the start of the right. Shepard shook his head. "Not so fast. Check the area. Find the cover. We have no idea what will be coming. Better to be prepared."

The Commander kicked a medi-gel container and crouched to pull out one of the packets, slipping it into the extra pouch at on his leg guards. "Ready?"

"Push the button, Shepard," Grunt stated and punched a fist into his opposite palm. "My blood burns."

Garrus adjusted the assault rifle against his shoulder and took a position beside the top of one of the three staircases. Grunt drew his shotgun while Shepard pulled the sniper rifle off his back.

"The quarters are tight, Shepard," Miranda offered through his earpiece. "I don't think the sniper rifle is your best choice."

Shepard glanced back at his squad mates and at their ready nod, he pushed the button to bring the first wave. Quiet, Shepard glanced from one side to the other and his brow furrowed at the low grumbles and scratching sounds. The squad shared an understanding nod and spread out. Shepard lifted his gun, pressing the butt into his shoulder and scanned the area.

Bounding from the sewer pipes, a small horde of Varren emerged. Eyes intense and rabid with hunger, the beasts charged. Grunt grinned and blasted his first shot into the head of the nearest beast. Shepard aimed quickly, easily setting the approaching Varren in his sights before pulling the trigger. The swarm continued, overwhelming.

"Shepard, six O'clock." Miranda warned in his ear and Shepard quickly spun and pulled the shotgun off his back. Holding it at his hip, he blasted the center of the chest of a lunging enemy. It crumbled at the Commander's feet. His sniper rifle dropped as he kept hold of the shotgun, blasting rhythmic shots into the nearing beasts.

Grunt roared, adrenaline rushing as he tucked his shoulder and charged one of the snarling Varren, slamming the beast into a nearby pillar and grinning victoriously as it crumbled to the ground. Garrus grunted, knocked back as two leapt at his chest. He punched one, knocking it off as the other bit at his throat. With a single hand around the beast's neck, he held it back, struggling as more swarmed him. "Shepard!"

"Four O 'clock, Shepard," Miranda quickly stated.

Shepard turned his head, glancing back. "Garrus!" He fired the shotgun, charging forward. "Grunt!" When the Krogan turned at the sound, Shepard slammed the butt of his gun into the head of one of the beasts on Garrus. He kicked a second in the chest while Garrus shoved the barrel of his assault rifle into the third's mouth and pulled the trigger.

The back of the Varren's head exploded in a splattering of bone, blood and flesh, coating the back of Shepard's armor. Grunt pulled the last Varren off Garrus and smashed his boot onto its skull. The Varren twitched then stilled. Quiet, the three paused, eyes darting quickly and waiting for another attack. None came.

Grunt shifted his weight, reloading his weapon. "What a rush … again. Push the button, Shepard. I'm ready for more."

Reaching down, Shepard gripped Garrus' hand and helped him to his feet. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," Garrus answered and straightened. "Thanks. I may have taken on one too many."

Shepard smirked. "Maybe."

Shrugging, Garrus checked his ammunition. "I had five up until that point. You've been slacking."

"You're both slacking." Grunt commented. "I killed at least ten before you were defeated." He pointed an accusatory finger at Garrus. "Shape up. We don't need weak allies."

"We're a team here," Shepard quickly defended before the situation escalated. "We all have our own strengths and sometimes we'll trip. But to stay strong, we have to keep everyone standing. Or else you get flanked. Then you die." He turned to Grunt, poignant and strong. "Alone, you would have died to the waves. Together, we'll get through this. No other way."

Grunt huffed. "Krogen don't follow the weak. We follow the strong. Prove your strength, Shepard, and I'll consider what you say."

Shepard nodded curtly. "Good. Gather up some spare clips then group up before we push the button again."

Grunt and Garrus separated but not before sharing a piercing glare. Shepard watched both carefully before glancing at his feet and picking up a thermal clip. "Don't turn your back on him," Miranda commented. "He's young and may be experiencing a blood lust. Stay cautious and don't hesitate if you have to act." A pause. "Ammo clip to your right."

Shepard turned and picked up the clip, slipping it into his ammo pouch. "Ready?"

"I've been ready," Grunt commented, pacing impatiently.

When the turian nodded his readiness, Shepard pressed the button again, triggering the second wave. Quickly reloading his shotgun, Shepard eyed the area, listening carefully for the next coming attack. Confused at the lack of combat, Grunt lowered his weapon, growling his displeasure. Garrus turned alert and ready. His head tilted to look over his scope and he muttered a curse. "Incoming."

Shepard spun quickly, eyes searching the direction Garrus faced. "Harvesters! Take cover. Be ready."

"They're going to drop Klixen." Miranda stated.

"I know." Shepard answered.

"Keep them at length. When they get close they …"

"I know!" He exclaimed, cutting off the Operative and ignored the curious momentary glance of the turian. "Don't let them flank you."

The wave unending, Shepard quickly used all the ammunition for his shotgun. Two Klixen approached, claws extended and seething mouth wide. Shepard fumbled, switching out to his assault rifle though his grip slipped. He stumbled, tripping down the stairs. His feet moved quickly, keeping traction and he balanced erect. Miranda called out a warning in his ear as the Klixen reared back and a ball of flame erupted from its gaping maw. With no cover insight, Shepard lifted his arm and turned his head, exposing his side and arm to the searing inferno. His armor burned, the metal absorbing the heat; the hairs on his arms, chest and legs singed, the flesh warmed.

"Shepard, get out of there!" Miranda repeated. "Back up, it's too close." When Grunt blasted a shot towards the Klixen nearest Shepard, she called out. "Shepard, move now!"

The left side of his body ached and burned from the fire but his muscles obeyed and he turned to run – too late. With Grunt's shot, the Klixen stumbled, dragged then rolled down the stairs towards Shepard and exploded within a few meters of his back. The blast dropped his lowered shields, knocking him to the ground.

His eyes rolled open a moment later as he woke from the few second black out. "Shepard," Miranda called to him, voice sharp and commanding. "Shepard, get up." He moaned and planted his right hand onto the ground and pushed himself up onto his knees. His body ached, the left side burning from the first blast, his back warm. The left side of his face ached and he tentatively opened his mouth to stretch the jaw. The flesh of his cheek tore and tensed, charred and cracked. Orange synthetic material glowed sporadically throughout the wound marking the true nature of his composition beneath the skin. Struggling to his feet, he tentatively reached for his face and winced painfully as the armored fingers brushed the flesh.

No blood dripped from the wound, any open sores instantly cauterized by the heat of the blast. Grunt approached him from behind, shotgun in hand. "Damn, Shepard. Didn't think you'd get up from that."

"I don't think most humans would," Garrus commented. "But Shepard's a tough son of a bitch."

Shepard forced a chuckle, hiding any wince and turned towards his squad mates. "What kind of hero would I be if a Klixen killed me?" He tilted his head to offer Garrus a view of his injured face. "How bad is it?" Every word hurt, the muscles and flesh stretching, hardening and tingling with each movement.

"Pretty bad."

Grunt shook his head. "You humans are too soft."

"Shepard, what happened?" Miranda asked in his ear, urgent with concern. "Your vitals have recovered but …"

"How many more of these?" Shepard asked rhetorically then sent his squad to recover any ammo and medi-gel pacs. He pulled off one of his gloves and tucked it under his arm as he pulled a medi-gel from the pouch on his leggings. With his bared fingers, he flicked a button on the underside of his helmet. "I'm alright," he said softly for Miranda. "It got me close. Hurts like hell. I'll need to hit the med lab. Doctor Chakwas is probably sick of seeing me." He bit on the edge of the medi-gel, tearing it open with his teeth and spit the little piece of packet from his mouth onto the ground. Squeezing the gel onto his hand, he coated his face. It burned, sizzled, soothed then cooled.

"She must be used to it by now based on your track record," she responded. "Did you ever return from a mission without being shot, cut, bruised, burned or battered?"

"Don't think so," he managed a smile though it hurt and forced his expression neutral. "No tongue kissing tonight with half my cheek blown off." And he grinned broadly through the pain at her annoyed sigh. He massaged the rest of the medi-gel into his cheek and lower jaw then pulled the glove back onto his bared hand. Grunt paced impatiently by the button. He switched the frequency again of his communications device. "Ready?"

Both squad members nodded and Shepard triggered the next wave. Miranda voiced her concern. "Be careful, Shepard." Tucking his shotgun tightly into his shoulder, he waited, scanning. The ground rumbled; he frowned. "Oh … hell no." A thresher maw burst from the earth, jaws gaping wide. Shepard and squad dove behind cover.

"Finally, a challenge!" Grunt exclaimed with joy.

Heart racing, Shepard tucked his shotgun away and pulled the Arc Projector off his back, checking the current ammo before peering up over the stone pillar towards his target. He maneuvered easily with the heavy weapon, dodging the incoming toxic spit and crumbling pillars. With Grunt at the front, Garrus with a sniper and Shepard using a heavy weapon, the thresher maw fell; Grunt proved himself a Krogan.

Despite Miranda's protests, Shepard refused any medical attention until after he assisted Mordin. On the shuttle ride back to the Normandy, Mordin carefully applied additional medi-gel to Shepard's scorched face. "Thank you, Shepard. For helping. Experiments horrific, but data far too valuable."

"I know your initial response was to destroy it for ethical reasons. But how many more Krogan would die for you to get back to this same point."

"True," Mordin agreed with a nod and sat back in his chair, a finger brought to his lips as his thumb hooked under his chin in thought – a habit. "Motives, admirable. Methods, atrocious. Should have killed him. Will likely do something just as foolish again. But … too late." He inhaled sharply, eyes narrowed in conviction. "I will study these results."

"You'll do the right thing in the end, Mordin. I know you will." Shepard stated, firmly then pointed to his left cheek. "So how bad is it? Really?"

"Bad," Mordin nodded. "Horrible burn. Must get you to med bay at once. Interesting." He tapped his chin in thought. "I'm curious how much of you is synthetic. The orange glow. Quicker regeneration. Almost super-human abilities. Unlike anything I've seen. If you permit, Shepard, would like to study you." He lifted a reassuring hand. "No experiments. Nothing intrusive. Just some DNA scans. Some readings. If what Cerberus did to you can be replicated … huge advancement in medicine."

"I wasn't cheap," Shepard responded with a smile. "Four Billion credit investment here."

Mordin shook his head. "Only because you are the first. First experiments always costly. Replication comes soon after."

Shepard tugged off his gloves then flicked open the clasps at the collar of his suit. Carefully, he removed his helmet. The burn on his cheek and jaw extended further than first appearance, wrapping around his jaw and along his neck. Grunt shook his head. "That's why you don't shove your face into an exploding Klixen."

Shepard slowly roused. Outstretched on a cool metallic medical bay bed, he shifted to stretch his weary muscles. The air cool on his naked skin, his face soothed with a moist gel and only a white cloth lay over his hips. He forced his eyes open, wincing at the bright white lights, glaring and intense.

"Commander Shepard. Take your time."

Doctor Chakwas. Shepard tilted his head towards the familiar voice. "How long?" he husked, hoarse and gruff from sleep.

"Six hours now," the doctor answered. "It's a good thing you had us install this device. It's done marvels for your injuries. Don't move." She scolded as he struggled to sit. When he stilled, she touched the wounds on his chest then forearm. "Another hour and it should be healed properly."

"My face too?"

"Yes."

He lifted his head, focusing on the wounds at the left side of his body. The burns and scorching nearly healed – scarring from the synthetic grafting all that remained. He reached up to touch his face. "It's just scarring."

"Not necessarily, Commander. The skin has healed over but there may be wounds underneath. An hour is not going to change anything."

His head fell back. "There's too much to do. I don't have time to waste."

"Then you should have thought about that before you let a Klixen get so close." Miranda commented.

He looked towards the door. "Wasn't a choice."

Biting back a retort, she shook her head, crossed her arms and dipped her hip, unimpressed. Doctor Chakwas adjusted the intensity to increase healing output. "He'll be fit for duty within the hour, Operative."

"Good," she approached the bed and reached out with gentle cool fingers to touch the line of his jaw and the fresh scar.

He sobered at her attention though a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Worried, Miss Lawson?"

She couldn't resist a smile at his teasing and slowly shook her head. "Are you remotely aware of your effect on my mental health? It's not positive."

"You just don't like being in situations you don't control," he offered lightly though his eyes gave way the seriousness of his observation.

She met his eyes, challenging. "And far too often you dismiss sound advice simply because you did not think of it first."

"Touché."

Miranda nodded in agreement. "We can leave the system now, unless you had something else to do on Tuchanka?"

"No, I think we're done here." The Commander stated. "Joker, set a course for the Citadel. But don't dock, we're going outside that system."

"Aye aye, Commander."

After Joker's affirmation, Miranda tilted her head, curious. "Where are we going?"

"Bekenstein. Just something quick to do for Kasumi. We won't be long. A day or two at most. While I'm groundside, take the Normandy and do some mining. We need more upgrades to the ship and our gear."

Her eyes averted momentarily – a habit when thoughtful. "Of course, Commander." Without another word, she left the medical bay.

"Odd," Shepard whispered to himself, eyes on the closed door before he lay back again, relaxing.

"What is that?" Doctor Chakwas asked.

"Her reaction." He answered then dismissed any concern. Releasing a heavy sigh, he calmed. His cheek and pectoral muscles twitched occasionally with the healing procedure as the nerves pricked and danced with the stimulation.

"Be cautious, Commander," Doctor Chakwas whispered. When his eyes opened, she continued. "We have the same goal now, but never forget this is a Cerberus vessel with a Cerberus crew. We saw what they did."

"I won't forget," Shepard stated, confidently. "But this crew is mine now. I'm responsible for them. Cerberus or Alliance, that doesn't matter."

"I understand. And I am their doctor. But I still reserve caution when dealing with their Operatives."

"Noted."

Miranda stood before the full length mirror in the small room of a local hotel on Bekenstein. She smoothed her hands down the sleek and silken lines of her midnight blue evening dress – stylish, flattering and tight. It accentuated the curves of her chest, waist and hips, exposing her shoulders before sleeves extended down to the wrist with no room to conceal a sidearm. No need, her biotics proved powerful enough should she need.

She adjusted the clips and picks, holding her hair up in a twist off her neck. Leaning forward, she finished applying the eye pencil and accentuated her eyelashes. Smoothing the tone of her skin and adding a delicate, inviting and natural lip color, she forced a pair of draped earrings through the too often unused pierced ears.

Checking her teeth one last time, she slipped her feet into delicate heeled sandals as she tapped a few buttons on the private terminal of her hotel room. "Shepard."

"Miranda?"

"I need a few hours on Bekenstein. I won't be long."

"Uhm … alright. Do you want us to wait for you to bring the shuttle down? I'm still on the Normandy."

"No need but thank you."

"Just be careful." Shepard said. "This place is seedy at best. Like Omega with cleaner streets."

She smirked at the sweet but unnecessary warning. "I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. But humor me. Contact me when you're back. When I'm done, I'm going to need a fast extraction."

"Like I said. Two to three hours at most." She disconnected the communication and closed the private terminal. She slipped a tight fitting bracelet onto her wrist, fastening a thin strap over the back of her hand, between her middle and ring fingers then pulled it taut over her palm before slipping the end into the other side of the bracelet. Omni-tool secured she tapped her finger on the side to activate it then manually calibrated the tool for her informational purposes, uploading the necessary data from her network.

Cerberus suit folded to the side, she checked the room once more before leaving, locking the door behind her.

On the small flight to her destination, Miranda gripped the holding bar at the side of the door in the Cerberus shuttle, unwilling to sit in the greasy, bloody and dirty seats. Jacob called back to her from the pilot seat. "Miranda, you don't have to do this. We can get rid of the gun shipment somewhere else."

Glancing to her side, Miranda eyed the four crates of weapons. "We can't have them on board the Normandy. One crate is useless and the other three are too hot. With the attention Shepard is getting, we can't afford to be tied up with those in our cargo hold. Our mission is too important to be delayed by weapons smuggling red tape. Especially with how often we've been at the Citadel."

"But Donovan Hock?"

"I can handle Hock. You just be ready to extract when I call."

"I'll be ready," Jacob answered and glanced back over his shoulder as movement caught his eye; she stood at the cockpit entrance, hands gripping for balance in the heeled shoes as she swayed with the slight turbulence. "Kind of like old times," he commented. "Only this time I'm the handler, and you're going in."

She smirked. "With less gunfire, hopefully. It's one of his standard parties. The kind where he flaunts his money to others in his circle. Drink this fancy wine. Here's a delicacy. He's easy to read and to manipulate but he's a valuable contact. I owe him a visit and he owes me a favor. He'll take the crates. I may not be able to get much, but he'll at least let me drop them for at cost."

"We could just fly over the ocean and shove them out the side."

She arched a brow, surprised. "Why would we do that? With the Collectors here and the Reapers coming, we can't afford to throw away arms just because they're smuggled. He'll rip people off for them, but at least they'll have a weapon. All the good it'll do against a reaper, but it's better than nothing."

"Yeah, you're right." He agreed. "If nothing for a morale boost. At least with a gun in your hand, you feel like you have a chance. You know?" He said deeply and hovered the craft just over the landing area for Hock's private villa. "Be careful, Miranda. He's dangerous."

"I know." She released the bars. "And I know his weakness." She turned from the cockpit and when the door to the shuttle opened, she stepped out and onto the villa's patio.

"Step forward please," one of the armed guards called and waved her forward with a gloved hand. "Stand still for scanning."

"Do you really think I could hide a weapon under this dress?"

The guard ducked his head as if inspecting, his helmet blocking any eye movement. "Standard procedure." She watched him calmly and kept silent as he scanned her a second time. The guard nodded his approval, tapping his omni-tool. "You're all set, Miss Lawson. Mr. Hock is inside."

Offering a slight nod of thanks, she carefully walked up the stairs and into the luxurious villa. Meandering through the small crowd, she greeted familiar faces and stopped to talk when two approached her for longer conversations. Hock noticed her within fifteen minutes. "Miss Lawson," He greeted with a viperous smile. "I must admit, I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Donovan," she returned the greeting and offered a winning smile, a hint of flirtation. "How could you if you don't invite me?"

He chuckled, flicking his wrist dismissively. "Technicalities. You are most certainly always on my list. Come, there must be some here you don't know. I will make introductions, yes?" He guided her further into the party, introducing and including her in a few conversations with some of his more powerful friends.

Miranda followed his lead, happily establishing the contacts. Charming and strong, she played the part to ensure an established relationship with those she thought useful. Hock excused himself momentarily then returned with a sleek wine glass, quarter filled. "Miss Lawson." He offered the glass. "I remember." He addressed the three men around her. "She has fine expensive tastes."

"Who wouldn't after a taste of this?" She smirked and lifted her glass slightly to him as a toast then took a trusting sip. The rich full-bodied liquid swirled around her tongue and she swallowed, delighted at the fine smooth taste of the Asari wine.

Leading Miranda slightly to the side, Hock spoke low, intense though still slick and inviting. "So, Miss Lawson, you rarely make social calls. I assume you are here for business."

"I must admit I am," she searched his eyes. "You know me too well, Donovan," the hint of flirtation returned, never overwhelming but instead slight and intriguing. She knew exactly how to draw him.

A smirk tugged his lips as his eyes scanned her face appreciatively then down the line of her neck. "Still, you always do dress for the occasion. And I always appreciate your … how should I say … mmm, enthusiasm."

She chuckled. "I am always enthusiastic about things that interest me." She leaned forward to whisper. "Both business and pleasure."

"That so," His voice deepened and he tensed just slightly at her closeness.

"Mr. Hock, sir. We've got a problem out front."

"Ah," he slowly shook his head and offered a slick grin. "Is it not always the case, Miss Lawson? We are interrupted at the most inopportune times."

"It seems so. We may have to change that situation later, hmm?"

"I'm sure we can come to an agreement." He smiled and inclined his head. "Excuse me," then turned to walk confidently towards the front of the villa.

When he left, Miranda sobered and returned to the party, mingling and reestablishing contacts as she waited for her opportunity. As she chuckled at the joke offered by a grey haired party guest, her eyes wandered to the front of the villa and Commander Shepard striding confidently inside in a dress suit without weapons. Her expression careful in place, she returned to her conversation; internally, she cursed.

Miranda pivoted at the hip to keep her back towards Shepard as she engaged the two powerful and dangerous men before her – one an arms dealer, the other a financial embezzler. Perceptively, she caught glances of Shepard as he casually moved through the room, eyes on people and the surrounding interior. Curious but patient, she waited. For nearly ten minutes, she lost sight of Shepard.

"Miss Lawson," Hock drawled, slick and heavy from behind the operative. "I have someone I would like you to meet." When Miranda turned, Hock took her hand. "I know him by reputation only but from what I do know … he's a connection you will want. Miss Lawson, I present Solomon Gunn. Mr. Gunn, this is Miranda Lawson."

She met Shepard's eyes and offered a small smile, her demeanor and expression professional. "Donovan … Mr. Gunn and I are already acquainted." She slipped her hand from Hock's to reach for Shepard. "How long has it been?"

"Almost a year," Shepard answered smoothly and took her hand in professional greeting. "Omega, wasn't it?"

"Mmm," She nodded then glanced to the two men at her side. "The best place to do business, don't you think?"

One laughed, nodding his agreement. "Some of my best and worst business decisions happened inside Afterlife."

Hock lifted his glass at the comment. "You and me both."

"Well I hate to end the fun," Shepard interrupted, "But may I speak with you in private, Miss Lawson? I have some business to attend to and I think you may be very interested with its prospects."

She arched a brow, intrigued. "That so?" She offered a beaming smile towards Hock and the nearby guests. "I hope you'll excuse me but I can never turn down an opportunity to acquire another favor."

Hock laughed, flicking his wrist in a dismissive gesture. "By all means, I do not blame you. Business always comes first. We also have some business to settle, Miss Lawson."

"I won't forget," she winked flirtatiously and strode passed Shepard towards the large glass doors leading to the balcony.

Shepard inclined his head politely to Hock and then the two guests before turning and following Miranda outside. He paused at the door, eyes raking her body as she stood near the banister, back to him and hands resting gently on the railing. Kasumi's voice echoed through his head. "My God, Shepard … have you ever seen anything quite so …"

"Thank you … Kasumi," Shepard growled through clenched teeth.

"Just saying, Shepard," she cooed flirtatiously.

Grunting, he stepped down the stairs and gripped the railing of the balcony beside the Operative. Tense, eyes boring he stared dangerously at the city across the water.

"Calm down," Miranda commanded softly. "We're discussing business. Relax. You're tense."

Exhaling a slow breath, he calmed. His shoulders lowered, and he tilted his head slightly to one side to stretch. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I told you," she responded simply. "Business. What are you doing here? Do you have any idea who those people are inside? And Solomon Gunn?"

"I'm here for Kasumi," Shepard answered. "She asked for a favor."

"You blow doors down, Shepard, not infiltrate state-of-the-art facilities. You're not a thief, you're the muscle."

He shrugged. "Don't think I did too bad."

"He's doing fine," Kasumi muttered, though cloaked on Miranda's opposite side.

Miranda closed her eyes a moment and then opened them, scanning the horizon in thought. "Well now you've entirely complicated my situation."

"You did the same to me," Shepard said flatly, voiced tinged in sarcasm. He paused a moment before turning his head slightly to watch her profile. His eyes quickly scanned down her body and up again. "You've got to get out of here. Things will get … complicated."

"I have important business," she challenged. "So don't make things complicated until I'm done. Think you can handle that?"

Shepard smiled and turned to lean into his side against the banister. He leaned forward, flirtatious. Despite his outward appearance, his words resounded with deep warning. "Miranda, get out. These men are dangerous and I need my squad."

"Don't get too close," she pressed a hand into his shoulder to keep him back and offered a friendly smile, though she shook her head. "Hock thinks I'm here for him."

"Here for …" he trailed off and though his expression gave nothing away, his voice darkened. "You're seducing Hock?"

She faced him as well, casual. "What are you here for? I'll help and get you out faster. Your face has been all over the galaxy. It's only a matter of time before somebody here recognizes you as John Shepard."

"She's right, Shep," Kasumi agreed. "We need to move fast and get into that vault."

Reluctantly, Shepard also agreed and divulged their plan to Miranda. She listened intently to the plan and what they needed to get into the vault. "I can get you the DNA. Just give me about half an hour then get into his private chambers."

"Sounds good," Kasumi said. "How long will you need to do your thing?"

"Not long. I should be able to handle it all in that time." She searched Shepard's eyes. "Alright? Half an hour."

"I'm not going to like this. But fine … half an hour." Shepard answered and whispered. "Lean closer."

"I warned you, no flirting." She objected but leaned forward anyway.

"You just don't flirt back," he grinned. "Then rebuff me."

She shot a glance toward the party and a watching Donovan Hock. She rolled her eyes and smirked at Hock's laugh. "He sees us." She whispered.

"I know," he murmured in her ear. "You're gorgeous. But I'm sure you know that already."

"I know how to get what I want," she answered and eased back, slowly shaking her head at him in dismissal.

"So do I," he offered with a playful shrug though his eyes belied his actions – gaze intense and lustful. "Keep the dress."

"I plan on it," she offered teasingly and pushed off the balcony, walking back up the stairs. She ignored Shepard's gaze following her and smiled warmly at Hock.

"You let him down gently, I see. Not your style, Miss Lawson."

"No," she laughed. "But I hate kicking the pup while he's down." She slipped her hand into Hock's offered arm and returned to the party.

Miranda stood beside the Cerberus shuttle, arms crossed as she leaned confidently into her hip. She glanced up at Hock as Jacob and three guards unloaded the crates. "Well … four crates. As promised. You can open them if you like."

With a sly smirk, Hock glanced to the woman at his side. "Oh I trust you, Miss Lawson. But you see I will look anyway. It is a good business practice." He offered a slight nod to one of his guards.

"Five eight three, two two six." Miranda said calmly and shifted her weight in feigned impatience as the guard tapped the passcode onto the side panel. He pushed up the top of the crate and peered inside. At his affirming nod, Miranda turned to face Hock. "So, it seems everything is in order."

"Just about," he reached out, thick fingers stroking back the hair behind her ears as he admired her. "A woman who puts business first is always … admirable. But I must say after our wine in my private quarters, I believe we have some more personal matters to attend to. Don't you think, Miss Lawson?"

She watched intensely as Hock's eyes averted to the side as he listened to the whispers of his security in his ear. Miranda flirtatiously reached up to draw her fingers over her ear, tucking the hair back and carefully adjusted a setting of her own device in a quick attempt to find his frequency. Mid conversation, she found it and slowly licked her lips, reaching out with her hand to draw a finger down Hock's chest.

"… sure what's happening, sir. Maybe just a glitch. Thought we saw someone on the cameras."

Hock looked down at Miranda and offered a seductive but menacing smile. "I fear, my dear, we may have to postpone yet again."

"Really?" She stepped forward and slipped a hand up his chest and cupped the side of his throat. "And here I was looking forward to our reintroduction." She tilted her head and leaned towards him to whisper. "Whatever it is, I'm sure your guards are more than capable. This place has better security than the Alliance Embassy."

Hock hesitated as he peered down at Miranda. "I … my vault is a very special place."

"I'm sure it is," She flirtatiously brushed her thumb over his lips then leaned up to kiss him softly. Hock quickly cupped her cheeks and kissed her passionately, growling in pleasure at her eager response. She slowed his passions, hand on his shoulder as she tugged playfully on his lower lip.

Hock sighed when she broke the kiss and his eyes fluttered open. Searching her gaze, he turned his head quickly and barked, pointing to his guards. "Find out what the hell is going on down there. If you interrupt me, someone better be dead."

"Sir," they stand tall and rush off the loading bay into the back of the house.

Hock gripped Miranda's wrist. "Where were we?"

She smirked playfully. "I believe we were about to go back to your room." She kissed him again, teasing.

With an impassioned growl, he guided her in front of him and away from the docking area. Jacob stood at the entrance of the shuttle, hands extended over his head, gripping the bars at the shuttle's side as he watched Miranda walk away.

When Miranda's call arrived for extraction, Jacob hovered the shuttle at the pick-up point. He turned the latch of the side door and pushed it open, reaching down for her hand to help her up. Avoiding eye contact, he pulled at the latch and closed the door, locking them inside. Wordless, Jacob brushed by Miranda and sat in the pilot's seat, steering the shuttle away from Hock's house.

"Don't go too far," Miranda said. "Shepard will need an extraction and we should stay close."

Jacob nodded though remained quiet. Miranda paced the length of the shuttle. She paused at one of the seats and her black packed bag. Opening it, she peered inside at the contents – all of which previously were in her hotel room.

"I cleared out your room," Jacob answered. "Figured you were too busy and we didn't have much time left after the Commander got back."

"Thank you," she stated simply and drew her fingers over the white cat suit. Sighing, she closed the bag and paced again before stopping at the small window to peer outside. The tension radiated from Jacob; Miranda ignored it. The silence enveloped the shuttle and Jacob glanced back over his shoulder once then again a minute later before returning his gaze out the front of the shuttle. She rolled her eyes. "What? Just say it."

Still a second, Jacob turned suddenly, twisting at the waist to look back at her. "How do you do it?" He shook his head and pushed to his feet. "It's probably none of my business."

"Probably," she responded coolly.

His eyes narrowed. "Look, I get it. You shed personalities, allies and enemies like skin cells. You always get what you want. Guess that's what makes you the best." He leaned back into his hip and crossed his arms over his chest. "We got history, Miranda. I won't forget that." He slowly shook his head and glanced out the side window towards Hock's mansion in the distance. "How do you just … kiss somebody like that or sleep with them when they make your skin crawl? Don't tell me that creep doesn't make you just want to put a bullet in his head."

At her silence, he just sighed and returned to the cockpit. "Look, nevermind. I get it. It's all part of the job." He sat in the pilot's chair.

She turned her head just slightly to watch him return to the cockpit. "Jacob," she waited until he glanced back at her. Standing confident at the shuttle door in her flawless gown with hair tied back, she held his strong gaze. "Not everything is just part of the job."

He searched her expression before nodding. "Fair enough."

"Jacob, can you read me? It's Joker." The Normandy pilot's voice rang through the communication. "The Commander is requesting an immediate withdrawal."

"I'm on it," Jacob answered and gripped the controls for the shuttle.

On board the Normandy, Shepard strode quickly down the corridor from Kasumi's room. The thief masked her emotions well and only after sure she was alright did he leave her. He jerked at the clasps of his gloves, tugging the armor from his hand and he waved the glove over the sensor for Miranda's office. He stepped inside, eyes searching the quarters as he locked the door behind him.

Miranda stood by her bed, back to the door. She wore the same dress, hair still tied back and make-up in place. Her sandals rested beneath her desk – likely the first discarded. Her fingers fiddled with the clasp of a necklace; she glanced over her shoulder at him.

He tugged the other glove off, dropping both to the floor with a clash as he closed the distance between them. Warm thick fingers reached up, tips tracing the lines of her shoulders before deftly sweeping her hands away. He slowly unfastened the clasp of the necklace but then refastened it. His fingers danced along the back of her neck then shoulders and back.

Miranda smirked at the attention. "I was removing it."

"I like it," he husked and ducked his head to kiss the back of her neck. "And I have far too much armor on."

She turned to face him and reached up, fingers agile as she unhooked and unfastened the shoulder plates and chest piece. He helped her, shrugging out of the pieces and gently placing them on the ground, careful not to drop anything on her bare feet. He kissed her suddenly, lips holding hers as he jiggled and tugged at his belt while she worked the clasps around his thighs. She responded eagerly, fingers sliding up over his chest.

He growled at her touch, electrified despite the formal jacket between his body and her hand. She cupped his cheeks and kissed him again then once more before easing him back. Grinning wickedly, her hands dipped to help him remove his greaves. He chuckled and put his hands on his hips in cocky display.

"You can handle the boots, don't you think?" She offered playfully.

"I don't know," he shrugged casually. "I was thinking you'd get down and give me a hand with that."

She hummed and slipped a hand around his neck then lifted up onto her toes to kiss him softly. She murmured. "I don't get on my knees that easily." With a teasing smirk, she stepped back from him and around to the foot of the bed.

"Tease," he growled as he watched her. With a sigh, he sat on the edge of the bed and tugged at his boots, slowly pulling them off and setting them aside. He pushed out of his greaves and then ran his hands over the wrinkled formal suit. "Surprised I got the armor on over it."

"It fits you well," she complimented and picked up his greaves, moving them further from the bed before sitting beside him.

"You look amazing," he whispered and smiled boyishly. "I walked into Hock's place and I had no idea what to expect. Then I see you there and my first reaction was to wring your god damn neck … followed closely by tearing the dress off and have my way with you against the bookcase. Neither of which were probably a good idea."

She laughed, her eyes alight and she shook her head. "No, probably not a good idea."

He grinned at the laugh. "Yeah well, I have remarkable self control when I choose to use it."

The atmosphere calmed in the comfortable silence that followed. Breaking the silence, both spoke at the same time then smirked at the realization. Shepard inclined his head to her, offering her the first words. "About Hock." She whispered.

He nodded slowly, expression sobered as he searched her eyes. "I talked to Jacob."

She licked her lips though gave no other hint of uncertainty. "You needed time."

"Yeah, we did," he agreed. Twisting at the waist, he cupped her cheek, thumb brushing her full bottom lip. "I don't want to know what you did … what he did." He swallowed hard as he held her eyes. "But never again. Promise me. I'm a jealous lover and I can't … never again. We'll find another way."

She cupped his cheeks, pulling him towards her and leaned into him, capturing his lips in a heated and intense kiss. He responded with hunger, pulling her closer and he coaxed her back on the bed, pivoting them before pinning her with his hips. His lips traveled to her throat, nibbling and nipping as his fingers teased her sides. Her fingers slid through his hair, holding him to her neck as she sighed her promise.