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.

Jacob shifted slowly on the hardened bed in the medical bay. His chest pinched with pain when he breathed, his ribs tender and bruised. He forced his eyes to open and squinted at the assaulting overhead lights. "I'm sorry, Mr. Taylor," Dr. Chakwas said and used a dimmer on the side wall to lower the intensity of the brightness. "I had just finished an examination and hadn't yet turned down the lights. How are you feeling?"

"Been better," Jacob answered in a husked tone. His lips and mouth were dry and he struggled to sit up. His muscles rebelled and he remained on his back, unable to do a sit-up. He refused to give up and instead forced the muscles to contract. They trembled with the movement and he managed to sit upright. "How long have I been here?"

"Not too long," Dr. Chakwas said. "Less than 24 hours." At his side, she waited for him to swing his legs off the side of the medical bed. "Your injuries are not as severe as I originally thought."

"Yeah, I've had worse." He winced and wrapped an arm around his waist. "How long will it take to heal? I've got to be ready for when we hit the relay."

"Rib injuries can take quite some time, Mr. Taylor. Though I am sure you will go into the fight, I cannot say you will be ready for it. What I can do is stabilize it. If possible, we can use a light-weight armor to protect your chest, sides and back. Though it will not stop pain or re-injury should you twist or move the wrong way, it can help prevent any further injury from impact."

"Great, I'll get started right away. Am I free to go?" Jacob slowly stood, stiff and tense so not to aggravate the injury. He walked to the far table to pick up his shirt. After looking at his tightly wrapped chest and then the shirt again, he decided not to attempt to put it on.

"Yes, you are. Come back within the next 24 hours so we can evaluate the healing process."

"Will do. Thanks, Doc." Jacob offered a small smile and salute to the doctor before walking slowly from the medical bay, his shirt still clutched in his hand.

As he entered the armory, Miranda looked up from her seat at the far end, an M-3 Predator completely disassembled on the table before her. "You're up." She stood. "I wasn't expecting you to be awake so soon."

"Yeah, but I'm alright. Alright as I can be, I guess." He walked into the room and folded the shirt then set it beside the computer console near the lockers. "What's wrong with the gun?"

"Nothing," Miranda answered with a casual shrug. "It's something I don't know how to do. Put together a gun. Usually it's just easier to incapacitate someone else and take theirs if you need one. But it doesn't hurt to know in the end."

"Uh huh." Jacob sat near the corner of the table. He didn't believe a word of it but he wasn't stupid enough to call her on that. Let Shepard push her buttons. Jacob saw enough of what Miranda was capable of to know not to push or call her on any bullshit. But Miranda had changed over the months. Not so cold, removed or withdrawn. The usual tension she carried disappeared, leached from her and she smiled more often, the usual strains of stress on her brow and at the corners of her eyes were gone.

"It's my fault," Miranda admitted and sat beside Jacob so they were at the corner. She shook her head. "I should have gone alone onto the Reaper. It was too risky and if the three of us were lost, Shepard would not be able to do what he needs to do. We need everyone for this Collector mission."

"Nah," Jacob slowly shook his head. He was shocked to hear any kind of admission like that. She never would have admitted an error of any judgment six months ago - especially a nonexistent error. "If you went alone, you wouldn't have made it back. To get through that security like that? And all those husks? You needed a squad for that mission. And we got outta there alive."

"Still, I'm sorry," she said and looked to Jacob. "You were seriously injured because of my own carelessness. It won't happen again."

"We all take risks, Miranda. It's part of the job," Jacob answered casually though her concern for him was touching, if unexpected. "We signed on for this knowing that it was dangerous. I'm not backing out now cuz things got a little close. Plus, somebody's gotta cover your ass."

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she slowly shook her ducked head. "I'm sorry nonetheless. And thank you." She looked up at him. "You saved my life back there. I'm grateful."

"No need to thank me. Like hell I was gonna let that thing drag you off. Never seen one like that before. I thought the Reapers just made husks. But that thing was just eating others. Enough to give you nightmares, ya know?"

"Cannibal is a good name for it. That's exactly what that thing was doing. Husks, other cannibals. That Scion? It didn't discriminate."

"Yeah, I know," Jacob leaned forward and picked up the pistol grip, examining it for any faults or damage. "So you and the Commander. I just wanted to let you know that I'm happy for you two. You deserve someone like him."

Miranda watched as he picked up another piece of the gun and attached it, observant as he slowly put the gun together. "And you deserve someone who can offer more of themselves than I can."

"You never go half-assed, Miranda," Jacob said with an amused smile as he carefully set the firing pin. "All in, you know? It's why you're the informant and all I do is pull the trigger."

"That's not all you do."

"Security detail. Not much else. Maybe security detail with a bit of flash." He presented her with the pistol, reassembled. "Where's Shepard now?"

"With the geth and Jack aboard a geth ship. Right now ..." she pointed to the port side of the ship. "Right over there. We're cloaked." She took the pistol. "According to the geth that Shepard activated while you were unconscious - who is calling itself Legion, by the way - the geth do not have windows because they do not see ... or require sight as we do. So with the Normandy stealth systems, we're practically invisible right here."

"Huh ... so you believe that?"

"Not in the least," Miranda turned the gun over in her hand, examined it, then opened the chamber as if to load it. "But Shepard did and so far, it seems accurate. There has been no evidence that the geth are aware of our presence here. I can't see inside the ship, though." She began to take apart the pistol again. "I hate feeling blind. And since this mission began with Shepard, I am nothing but blind."

"You can't get into the communications? Onboard camera systems?"

Miranda shook her head. "No. The quarian is trying but there security system is astounding. Shepard said he wanted to help these geth. Why would he do that? The geth tried to destroy everything only two years ago. Nearly killed him on numerous occasions. Why the change?"

"I'm still kinda shocked he activated a geth on board the ship. Well, maybe I shouldn't really be shocked but why did he do that?"

"Said he wanted to talk to it. Can you believe that? Talk to the geth?" She set all the parts out for the gun and surveyed each then picked up the pistol grip, checking the trigger guard. "I have to stop doubting him. His methods border on insanity but he gets results and that is what we're after. Results. If an activated geth ... well, let's be honest. Is it any more dangerous than Jack or Grunt? Or Kasumi for that matter?"

"I don't know. Though with EDI here, I'm sure she can just hack into it and deactivate it, right?"

"Not likely. An AI cannot have that kind of freedom. There is no predictability or control in that way." Miranda answered.

"My programming prohibits me from compromising the integrity of this ship, Ms. Lawson." EDI replied from the console on the far side of the room. "However, should the geth pose a security risk, I can block access to any part of the ship from another remote computer host, thereby rendering any attempt to sabotage the Normandy impossible."

"Thank you, EDI." Miranda replied. "Reinforce the security of the AI core. If that is where the geth is to be stored, I don't want it possible for the geth to have any access to you or the Normandy systems."

"Security systems have already been upgraded and all information is encrypted according to proper Cerberus protocols. I will begin simulations to ensure all files are secure. Will there be anything else, Ms. Lawson?"

"That will be all, EDI. Thank you."

"I hate how it does that," Jacob said. "Always listening. Sneaking up on you. No, not the hammer yet." He pointed to a different piece of the gun.

Miranda nodded and placed the hammer component down and picked up the indicated piece. "EDI doesn't have to sneak. An AI is perpetually aware." She continued to work in silence, putting the pieces of the gun back together and when completed, she presented the pistol to Jacob.

He nodded his head. "Impressive. For a beginner. Now you gotta do it in under ten seconds."

"Commander Shepard has the deck. XO Lawson is relieved." EDI announced.

Miranda smirked at the teasing and stood. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Will do, Miranda." Jacob slowly rose and handed her the pistol in his hand. "Practice. I'll time ya next time."

She took the offered sidearm and holstered it on her hip. When she exited the armory, Shepard stood at his private terminal beside the large galactic map. His armor was dented and scratched on the right side from the firefight he endured on the geth ship. His helmet rested on its side on the small desk and his rifle was slung casually over his left shoulder. She approached him. "Hey. How did it go?"

He turned at her voice. "It went."

"That good?"

He smiled and slowly shook his head. "Yeah, you could say that." He closed the terminal and kissed her. "We need to talk. New mission over the wires. Will you be in your office in an hour?"

He never kissed her publicly before and though Miranda valued her privacy and rarely shared anything personal with people who worked for her, she enjoyed the open statement, proclaiming Shepard was hers. Not that anything public was necessary. Her ears were always tuned to the buzz of the crew and she knew everyone on the ship was aware of Shepard's relationship with his executive officer. No one questioned it and no one challenged her claim. "I'll be there. I have to finish a report or two. I'll be waiting."

Shepard paused at the insinuating tone and with a sly smirk, watched her step into the elevator. His smirk broadened to a grin when she leaned into a hip, crossed her arms and arched a brow. After the elevator door closed, Miranda smiled to herself. Maybe it wasn't so bad for her stomach to clench, her heart to race and her breath to catch when he smiled at her like that.

Miranda looked up as the door to her office opened. Shepard entered. "Miranda, you have a minute?"

"Always," she leaned forward and intertwined her fingers on the desk. "I was just finishing up the last report."

"I can come back if you need?"

"No, it can wait." She closed the terminal and stood.

He smiled at that and walked into her private quarters. "Good. I had another message from the Illusive Man."

Miranda followed him, curious and when he sat on the sofa, she sat beside him, a few feet away and twisted at the waist as she crossed her legs, facing him as an arm braced over the back of the sofa. "What did he say?"

"Have you ever heard of Project Bergerac?" He asked and when she shook her head, he continued. "He thinks whatever virus caused the VI function on Jarrahe station has caused the communications to go dark and the station for Project Bergerac to go on lock down about a week ago."

"Another rogue VI?" She frowned and leaned towards him. "It is possible. Where was the station?"

"Porolan. Never heard of the planet but Joker says we've been there before. Chasing down Saren we scrounged some old relic off the surface. I don't remember it. Eventually, that all started to run together."

She picked up the personal tablet on the table before them and typed the planet's name into a search tool. With stern expression, she researched the planet. "There isn't very much here. Mineral rich planet. Extremely cold. You'll have to send probes to find an exact location."

He shifted closer to her to peer down at the tablet. "Joker has us in route. And EDI has instructions to begin sending probes to the planet when we are within range. Can you come down with me? Do you have a protective suit for that kind of temperature?"

"I do," she answered and set the tablet down. "What happened with the geth?"

Shepard leaned back with a sigh, head resting on the back of the sofa and he settled in for comfort. "It was … well … I don't know." He glanced at her and at her engaged expression, he continued. "I spoke with him. Legion. Numerous times. He said that geth and the heretics are not the same. It was not the geth who attacked everyone with Sovereign, it was the heretics. It would be like Cerberus declaring war against the Batarians but everyone blaming all humans. After Sovereign's defeat, the geth were … interested."

"Interested? In what?"

"Me. He said, 'I defeated their god'. The heretics worshiped Sovereign like a god." Shepard's brow knitted in thought. "And then said that some kind of math computing difference is the reason there are heretics and geth. I guess it's like the Alliance and Cerberus."

"Are you insinuating that Cerberus is the heretic of the human race?"

Her question wasn't hostile though a hint of defensiveness laced the inquiry. Shepard shook his head and sat up, facing her. He twisted at the waist, knee bent so his leg rested on the couch. "Not in a bad way. It is like … think of a religious war between two factions. Each faction will come to a conclusion based upon its doctrines and in most religions, truths are absolute, right? No matter what one says to the other, nothing could sway one belief to the other. It doesn't necessarily mean either are wrong, because both are true to each person. Legion said the heretics say one is less than two. And geth say two is less than three. Both are true." He grew quiet, in deep thought.

"Wow." Miranda slowly shook her head. "Shepard, your mind was wasted in the Alliance marines." She faced him then, easing closer and though surprised at his intellectual conclusion, contently engaged him. "I don't understand its logic. One is less than two and two is less than three. Both are along the same thought of being less than another. Yes, both are true but that doesn't explain why they cannot co-exist. Two truths, one truth. Is there a difference in those instances? Both are truths."

He rubbed his head and winced. "I don't know. Maybe that was a stupid analogy."

"It wasn't," she quickly defended him. "On the contrary, I think it was a brilliant analogy. But that doesn't mean it's logical. The geth are known for being logical. The fact that different factions of geth have, well beliefs, for lack of a better word is just bizarre. That in itself is illogical. Can a program be illogical?"

"But that's the catch. It is logical. I think. Ok, look." He reached for the tablet on the table again and swiped his fingers over the extranet browser. He entered a search for a famous actress and opened two three-dimensional holographic images. The images popped from the screen, side-by-side. "Alright. Same actress right? Just in this film she has black hair and in this one she had blonde hair. Neither are wrong." He sighed and sat back, shaking his head. "Nah, that's a dumb analogy too." He tossed the tablet onto the table; it flickered and turned off.

"No, I think you're on to something. So what you're saying is that Legion says the heretics, due to a programming error, believed that Sovereign was their god. The geth, do not."

"Yes but what Legion was saying was that there was no programming error. One is less than two. Versus two is less than three. Both are correct. It's just that each … function, I guess, was offered this different solution. Both of which are true equations?"

"Your religious war metaphor was perfect."

"So what's the right answer then? How can they both be true? Which is the true nature of the geth? I'm sure the heretics would call Legion a heretic."

"I don't know, Shepard," she answered softly. "Who is right? Cerberus or the Alliance?"

Months ago, he would have answered easily. The Alliance. But was it because the Alliance was right or because he was raised to think they were right? He knew no different. His parents were Alliance and he was raised on an Alliance vessel or an Alliance colony. He enrolled in the Alliance military, lived within Alliance rules and laws. He obeyed Alliance superiors. He witnessed Cerberus crimes, attacked them on their bases. But the Alliance had criminals too. He never judged all the Alliance based on the actions of the few. Yet, he so easily condemned an entire organization based on the actions of a few cells he witnessed. Months ago, he was Legion and Miranda was the heretic.

A sickening nausea swirled in his stomach and he pushed to his feet to cross the room. Standing by the window, he gazed out into the depths of space, vast and expansive. "The heretics, according to Legion, wanted to use a virus to change geth logic to accepting the heretic logic. Legion and I struck back. I could have destroyed the heretics." He pressed his palms into the cool edge of the thick window and whispered. "I should have destroyed them."

"What did you do?"

"I reprogrammed them. Did to them what they wanted to do to the other geth. I … changed them. Indoctrinated them."

"Shepard, you cannot indoctrinate a machine."

"Are they only machines?" He glanced back over his shoulder at her. Stress lines pulled at his eyes and wrinkled his brow. "Legion is self aware. So is EDI. They can make deductions."

"Yes, based on their programming."

"It's more than that." He returned to the couch. "Legion has a piece of N7 armor he used to patch a hole on his … I don't know. Body? Is it a body? It was one of my pauldrons he found as he traced my path across the galaxy. Where the Normandy crashed. He took that piece to repair himself. Not another. That piece. And he admitted to being damaged prior to that. Why wait? Why put that piece in place? When I asked, Legion … he couldn't answer me. That in itself is illogical. Why would a computer program dodge a question, be uncomfortable. Take a souvenir."

"Why do you keep referring to the geth as a he? There is no gender. It is a program."

"Because it doesn't feel like a program!" Shepard sank onto the couch and raked his fingers through his shorn hair. He ducked his head and closed his eyes. "The heretics made a choice. I took that choice away and indoctrinated them with another truth. Legion's truth. Legion says the geth are … apathetic to organics. Was that why I did it? If the heretics are the true nature then I changed them for our benefit."

"As winners of war always do," she whispered and placed a hand on his back, rubbing slowly over his shoulders then down to the center of his back. "Are there more heretics or more geth? What is the majority?"

He shook his head and scoffed. "If we indoctrinate the minority, then I should force all of Cerberus to adapt and join the Alliance or else." At her silence, he clasped his hands, elbows resting on his knees and pressed his chin into his hooked thumbs. "Not so easy when we're talking about organics, is it?" After a long minute of silence, he asked. "Miranda, what does it mean to be alive?"

Miranda exhaled slowly as she considered his words. Was there truth to his observations? What was the definition of life? Biological life, organic life was a simple answer. Organic life was Carbon based and required certain specific environments to survive. Though could she base her definition on carbon based lifeforms? Five years ago, micro-organisms were discovered on a foreign world of the terminus system based on Methane. A frozen moon with oceans of methane and within the liquid thrived bacterial life. Biologically, all life breathed. All life had cells. All life reproduced, to an extent.

Many used the term 'synthetic life'. But were synthetics, in fact, alive? "You're asking if the geth are alive? Can synthetics be alive?"

"Yes. That's what I'm asking."

"Can any computer program be considered alive?"

"No," he answered. "Right? I don't know now! That VI on Jarrahe station reacted like anyone would trying to survive."

"Turrets can be programmed to fire upon enemies but that doesn't mean it has any mental capacity to deduce anything beyond its programmed function. A machine serving a function based on its programming is not alive. That is like accusing a turret of having a moral compass." Miranda cupped his cheek and turned his gaze to hers. "Shepard, do not let this decision haunt you. If these heretics mobilized again and attacked us, you would be fighting them. This was a preemptive strike. Nothing more. Alive, programs, VI, AI, it doesn't matter. We cannot allow geth that are intent on the destruction of organics to remain. Especially with the Reapers coming. We will have a repeat of what happened with Saren, perhaps worse."

"What if I made the wrong choice? It could be … catastrophic. Miranda …" he took her hands. "How many times have I made decisions and not even really think of the consequences?"

"Like what?"

"Letting the Rachni queen go? That could start another war. Same with the geth here. Or hiding the truth from the flotilla about the geth and Tali's father. I make these decisions that should never be mine to make. Who in the hell am I to make these choices? Save the council, take the fleet after Sovereign. There were admirals present! I was outranked by Alliance Commanders on those other vessels and they deferred to me when it came to commanding a fleet of Alliance warships. And me, in my power surge, relished it and I made a choice that wasn't mine to make!"

"John," she whispered and held his angered and wounded gaze. "As a Spectre, the choice could only be yours."

His eyes closed and his heart clenched at the sound of his name finally on her tongue. "I never wanted this."

"No," she slipped her hand from his tight grasp to brush her finger tips over his cheek then behind his ear. "But you're duty driven. At no point would you shun that because of uncertainty. And I cannot think of anyone I would trust more."

"No man should have that power."

"Perhaps not. And it won't get easier." She tilted her head, observing his expression. Though he was so strong, rarely did that strength waiver and slip. His decisions always came with confidence and certainty but Miranda knew they had to be difficult for him. She witnessed that when the death of numerous civilians tempted him to turn his rifle on Zaeed. "Come here," she coaxed, deeply and gripped his hand as she stood.

She motioned to the bed with her hand and then walked away from him to the small bedstand. She opened the door and removed the half-used tube of biotic gel and placed it on the bed. She unclasped the fasteners around her wrists and forearms then pulled off the tight black gloves.

"What would have you done?" he asked her and pulled the snug shirt over his head. "Would you have reprogrammed them too?"

"No, I would have destroyed them," she answered softly. When he paused with uncertainty, she continued. "But I understand why you did not."

"Yeah? Why?" He sat on the bed's edge and unfastened his heavy boots.

"Because you can't bring yourself to kill something or someone if you think there is a better option," she answered. When he paused, she tilted her head and watched him, the lines of his spine and sinewy muscles of his back and shoulders. "Am I wrong?"

"Yes," he said then sighed and ducked his head. "No … I don't know." He pulled off his boots and tossed them across the room. They crashed against the hull of the ship and fell to the floor. "I'm sick of thinking about anything." He crawled onto the bed and flopped down, slipping his arms under the pillow and laying his head on the cushioning. He inhaled; it smelled like her.

She pressed a cool hand into his back and leaned over, whispering in his ear. "Close your eyes."

He obeyed her and released a slow sigh. He inhaled again and counted to five. Slow and deliberate, he counted the seconds of the inhale and then released in an equally controlled exhale. He hummed contently when she straddled his waist and he felt her sit back onto him, the smooth skin of her legs brushing his bare waist. He knew she must have stripped off the one-piece suit and he opened a single eye to look back over his shoulder at her. He was right.

She perched upon him in a black lace bra. He couldn't see if she wore anything else, but assumed she wore those sexy high-hipped panties he'd often seen on her. She carefully rolled the tube and squeezed some of the clear gel onto her palm. "I thought I said to close your eyes." She chided him lightly and offered a stunning smile.

"I'd rather look at you," he said, voice deeper than usual and a little husked. He twisted beneath her and she lifted up onto her knees so he could flip onto his back. His eyes fluttered when she sat on his hips and he gripped her waist to hold her. His hands roamed over her thighs before resting on her hips. "I want to watch what you do."

"Suit yourself," she pressed her palms onto his chest and her eyes slowly closed in concentration.

The gel was cold, slick and wet and her hands moved in a circular pattern over his chest then down the top part of his abdomen. She covered his chest with the cool gel, massaging it into the muscles. His mind wanted to dwell on the haunting and weighted decisions about the geth and the philosophy about their reprogramming, the consequences of his decisions on the lives of so many. But her touch felt so good, it distracted him. He embraced the distraction.

He resisted a moan at the sight and teasingly shifted beneath her, knowing she felt his excitement. "I had the strangest conversation with Mordin."

"Oh?"

"Well first he told me to watch for bugs as they could be planted anywhere." He said and when she paused in the massage, he rubbed his hands over her thighs; she began the massage again. He hummed, contently. "And then he said that he would forward some … videos to my terminal. About the creative use of biotics."

"The creative use of biotics." she slowly shook her head, amused.

"I forwarded one to you. I believe there were three Asari in that one." He offered a mischievous grin.

She laughed. "Shepard, do you really think …" her biotics flared and the tendrils tickled along his skin, making his hair stand on end. She leaned over him, pressing on his abdomen to keep herself balanced and she whispered. "… that I need a video guide?"

The Illusive Man rolled a cigarette between his thumb and forefinger as he stared out at the red giant outside the observatory window on the Cerberus space station. He tapped the fingers of his other hand in rhythmic succession against the arm of his chair. Crossing his legs, he waved the hand with the cigarette before his eyes, queuing a dozen holographic screens to appear from the elongated console. He picked up a lighter from a small compartment on the left side of his chair and placed the cigarette in his mouth. He pressed a single button on the console and waited.

He lit the cigarette and returned the lighter to its storage compartment. He inhaled deeply from the cigarette, savoring the rush as the smoke filled his lungs. Pressing the cigarette between two fingers, he took it from his mouth and slowly exhaled. The screens separated and upon the circular elevated pedestal, the full image of a man appeared.

The man crossed his arms, stoic. His hair was long, straight and black and his eyes were hidden behind a mask. He wore tight light combat armor and an elaborate utility belt wrapped around his waist. A pointed blade hung from his right side.

"I've read your report. Good work." The Illusive man hissed an exhale through his teeth.

"You wanted it done. So it's done."

The Illusive Man nodded. "I've gotten some interesting information I want you to investigate."

"Information?" the man uncrossed his arms and shifted his weight. "That's not my trade."

"But this will be," The Illusive Man offered cryptically. "Let's just say we have an opportunity to balance the power on the Citadel Council. And that is something we're both interested in."

"And I thought you'd want me to clean up the mess you have."

"There is no mess. Not yet." The Illusive man answered calmly and brought the cigarette to his lips to inhale again. "Project Lazarus will succeed. When they return from the Omega 4 Relay, things may be different. But I am not going to preemptively strike." He exhaled in a hiss. "I have very valuable individuals on that mission. If a situation arises, we will contain it then. Not before. Is that understood?"

"Clear," the man nodded.

"Good," the Illusive Man said and snuffed out his cigarette. "Finish cleaning your trail. I'll be in touch when I have a destination for you."

The holo-feed disconnected.

Shepard slowly roused from a satiating and relaxing sleep, naked and thoroughly satisfied. His muscles hummed with the stimulation Miranda's biotics provided and even though it was hours ago, he still felt the after effects. He forced his eyes open to stare at the shadowed ceiling and the crossing metallic beams that traversed the Normandy. A thin sheet covered his legs and draped over his hips. He turned his head to the side.

Miranda stretched atop the bed on her stomach, arms tucked under the pillow. The sheet reached her waist, leaving her back and arms bared to his eyes. She faced him, in sleep, head ducked into one of her arms and stray pieces of hair hung into her face. It surprised him to see her in such a vulnerable position, offering her back so freely. When she slept, she usually stayed on her side and she often slept very lightly, was usually the first awake when he stayed with her. Rarely could he watch her sleep.

He carefully twisted onto his side, facing her and reached out to tuck her hair back from her face. Gentle, his rough fingers barely brushed her cheek but her eyes opened anyway, startled at first. He smiled, regretful. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to wake you."

She hummed and closed her eyes again, exhaling a sigh. "What were you doing then?" her voice was husky, a little raspy from sleep.

"Damn, you're sexy." He growled and rubbed a hand over her back. He moved closer to her. "Keep sleeping. I was just … watching."

"You shouldn't be watching." She reached out and pressed a hand into his chest, guiding him onto his back. She slipped closer to him and pressed against his side, pillowing her head on his chest as she draped her arm over his chest. "Sleep while you can."

"I'd rather make love to you while I can," he wrapped his arm around her, splaying his hand on her back to hold her against his side.

She smiled and snuggled into his side, her hand absently tracing a pattern on his chest. "Aren't you thoroughly satisfied?"

"I feel amazing."

"As do I," she tilted her head back to press a kiss to his stubble-covered jaw. "But I would like to be able to walk on this next mission."

He smiled and contently lay with her, his fingers brushing along her back, first his nails then the pads. "Miranda."

She purred in response. "Mmm?"

He ducked his head to whisper. "When this is over … come with me."

"Where?" she absently asked.

"Back to the Alliance. To the Council."

She opened her eyes and pressed on his chest to push up enough to look into his eyes. "Or you could stay here with me. On the Normandy. With Cerberus. Shepard, you've seen that not everything we do is evil. Extreme, yes, but we're not some evil organization out for galactic dominance. That's not what we're about."

"Maybe." He cupped her cheek and brushed a thumb over her lower lip. "But I have a hell of a lot more power and influence as a Spectre. And the Alliance won't touch you. Not with me there and not if you defect. You know way too much information."

She recoiled as if slapped and she pushed away from him, brow pinched and opened her mouth to speak. She closed it quickly though. Before he could ask, she pressed her fingers into his lips and muttered a soft curse to herself. She exhaled a calming sigh and then a light chuckle escaped her.

He watched her curiously. What the hell was she doing?

She eased back against him, playfully swatted his chest as she snuggled back into his side, this time with her lips at his ear. She kissed there then angled her head so she spoke into his ear towards the pillow. "Don't even say something like that. This entire ship is bugged and just the suggestion that anyone on this ship would defect is enough to get us all killed. Do you understand? Don't look alarmed or anything, just … show me you understand."

His hand splayed on her back and he closed his eyes, humming. He nuzzled her neck, voice low and intended only for his ears. "Even here? He watches us here?"

"I don't know. But I'm not willing to test it. And if I were him, I would. Especially considering our growing … closeness." Her fingers scratched at his chest. "Don't talk about it again. Not here … at least not onboard. Alright?"

"Yeah," he kissed her neck then along her jaw to find her mouth. "Think about it. Promise me."

"Alright," she breathed against his lips and cupped his cheek to seal her mouth to his. She kissed him deeply, pressed close to him and when she eased back, she kissed his shoulder then pillowed her head again on his chest.

"I'll think about it too," he answered her and squeezed her hip. When she looked up at him, he offered a small smile. He kissed her and mumbled. "Me and you. We'll worry about where later."

She swallowed the end of his words with another long kiss, no obvious hint as to the nature of their discussion based on their actions. Her palm gripped the muscles of his chest then slid down his abdomen and beneath the sheet. When he growled, she smiled and biotic tendrils flared from her hand.

As the cool tingling sensation fired to his groin, he groaned and pulled the sheet up to their chests as he turned to face her. "I won't share you with him," he growled against her lips and rolled his hips into her hand, unable to stop his movements at her touch.

"You don't," she pledged.

He stilled and cupped her face with his palm, forcing her eyes on his. Her touch paused on him though the biotics still pulsed and she swallowed, waiting for his response, likely unaware of her tell of uncertainty. She held his gaze and Shepard thanked whatever deity gave him any opportunity with her. He loved her, fiercely. Possessively. Entirely. Words escaped him in the moment at the overwhelming trust she placed in him with the two words she just whispered. He pulled her close and captured her lips.

Note: Thanks for reading and keeping up with me. I want to apologize for the insanely long delay to finish this story. There is no excuse, so thank you for sticking with me. Also, head over to my profile page to vote in a poll for the next story I post at the end of Sacrifice. Also, I'm shopping for a new BETA reader. My previous beta had some real life issues that have kept her away. If you're interested, send me a PM with either your link to your beta profile or your strengths/weaknesses as a beta. And as always, feel free to leave me reviews. I love to hear feedback.