A/N: Sorry for the long wait, everyone!

I was eager to post so if I missed anything grammatically it's my fault and not my poor beta's.

[Chapter Twenty-Six: Tricks and Tools of the Trade]

[5:50AM/ 14 hours until infiltration/ Miranda's Office]

"Requesting permission for video transmission from user OrianaL."

Red rimmed eyes poked themselves out from underneath plush sheets as Miranda peered out into the cold darkness of her quarters, the faint illumination of her terminal's monitor offering the only source of light. Activating her cabin's white lights, Miranda winced as the sudden illumination flared in her eyes. Guided by the bleariness, the operative made her way towards the desk.

"Requesting permission for video transmission from user—"

"Accept."

Her screen coming to life Miranda's squinted eyes widened in alarm. "Oriana? What is it? Are you alright?"

The younger sibling had an air of relief wash over her and became all smiles and teeth as she noticed her big sister, her guardian angel. "Randa, oh thank goodness! And before you ask, yes I've used the secure line. Were you still asleep? I hope I didn't wake you?"

"I had just woken up. Is everything fine?"

"Everything is fine," came the simple response, much to the XO's relief, "I just needed to speak with you and make sure that you were alright. I haven't heard from you in a while and I was beginning to worry. You're on another mission I suppose?"

Miranda nodded her head, a twinge of sadness entering her tone. "I'm sorry about that. There's rarely a moments rest aboard this ship… you know how it is."

"Top secret?"

"As usual."

"…I…I really hate that I'm here and that you're off saving the world and making lives better… I could help you know! I've become quite tech savvy if I do say so myself. And yes" the younger sibling grumbled, "I understand that I'll be attending E.U. in a few months but—"

"Oriana," Miranda said in soft warning, "Education is—"

"I know," Oriana sighed, raising her hands in surrender. "I know. I just hate worrying. But I'm glad to see you're alright. I've been having the most awful feelings as of late and its only getting worse."

"Feelings about what?"

Oriana shrugged as her brows furrowed in frustration, "I don't even know. It could be the stress of my final examinations but…I just get this feeling like something big is going to happen."

"Are you eating before you sleep?"

"No it's nothing like that. I guess I just needed to call you. I guess that's why I needed to call you… to be sure nothing had happened and I just didn't know about it."

The operative nodded, leaving herself a quick note about upping the security she had set for her sister (just for extra measure, of course). "I'm quite alright. But…thank you for the concern."

"Don't thank me, I'm your sister! Younger or not its part of the job, right?"

Miranda managed to produce a small smile, "Right. So is anything new? Your marking in Late 20th Century Earth History has gone up. I suppose that the Gossimah boy has taken notice, yes?"

Oriana blushed deeply, "Maybe…"

"I assume he is treating you correctly lest I have to go down there and straighten the boy out?" she teased.

"Randa, you wouldn't!"

The operative chuckled, "As your older sister I reserve my right to distrust each and every person you date. However," she continued, tone lightening, "his academic records are still above average. I see that he's ranked second in his class. At least I know he's not a daft boy. Have you been to any of his athletic events?"

Oriana grumbled, "…I have. Why?"

"Does he show competence and expertise? Or is his ability sub-par?"

The young woman grinned sheepishly, "He's pretty much great at whatever he does…"

"I hate him."

"Randa!"

"It'd be easier on you if you just begun to accept the fact now," she replied playfully.

"Hey!" the young woman practically squealed, "Since we're on the subject how about we take the heat off me and talk about you for a while! Have you come across a Mr. Dashing on your travels too and fro?"

"I…haven't come across a Mr. Dashing, no." Miranda bit her lip and looked away from the screen, soon damning herself for her the gesture slip.

"Oh. Em. Gee. You have, haven't you! Who is he? What's his name?"

"Classified."

"RANDA!" she screamed loudly, causing Miranda's terminal speakers to shake. "There are no secrets between sisters! Don't make me pout."

"Look," Miranda groaned, "it's currently a delicate situation and when the time presents itself I'll be sure to arrange a meeting between you two but for now can we just leave it be?"

Oriana grinned devilishly, "Don't want to jinx it, hmm?"

Deciding to just agree and be done with it Miranda nodded. "Yes."

"Fine, I'll discontinue my questions then—but only for now! We better speak of this again in the near future! Promise?"

"…I'll keep my word."

"That'll do for the time being then. I guess this is my queue to go get ready for class now?"

"Don't be late. I need to bathe and dress for work anyhow. Have a good day today, alright?"

"I will and…Randa?"

"Yes, Oriana?"

The young woman's tone lowered into seriousness as she stared into the holograph. "…be safe out there, okay? I…I love you, big sister."

Miranda smiled, her features falling into an uncharacteristic softness as she shifted awkwardly in her seat. "…I love you too."

xxxxxxx

[Cargo Deck]

Gray eyes were narrowed with intensity at their target, chest heaving and ribs expanding as she controlled her breathing and heart rate. A light sheen of sweat covered her skin. Strands of loose, chestnut brown hair had fallen from London's pony tail and stuck to her face. She inhaled deeply then exhaled quickly, a long, well toned arm reaching out in an extension as her closed fist came into contact with the punching bag, grunting lightly as she repeated the process several times over, each strike increasing in power and rapidity.

A voice from the stairwell ventured over the increasingly fast paced and loud noises London's fists were making against the punching bag. "Hello? Anyone down here?"

"Yeah," the sniper responded quickly, taking a step back to spin around, keeping perfect balance with her right foot as she brought up her left leg only to bring the boot crashing down onto the bag with a powerful force and loud thud. She huffed, hopping in place and doing ballistic stretches to keep her limbs loose as she looked over towards the voice "Good morning, Jacob. Here for a work out?"

Jacob nodded and began to stretch. "Oh it's you O'Conner. Yeah, I am. Actually…I'm glad I ran into you again down here. When I finish this are you up for some sparring?"

London popped up off the ground in excitement, "You're on."

The officer smiled a little too eagerly, pointing his finger. "Great—the gear is over there in that locker."

London nodded, grabbing and tossing the cushioned guard gear over towards Jacob. She quickly applied her own gear, making sure the buckles on her shin, forearm, and breast guards were extra secure.

"Just letting you know that I won't take it easy on you," Jacob said sternly, something in his voice making it sound a little personal.

"Funny," London quipped with a risen brow while putting on her head gear. "I was just about to say the same thing."

"Ready?"

There was no vocal reply but the response was instant, the sniper lunging forward with a strong left jab only to be blocked and pushed away. She grinned, bouncing on the tips of her toes as she and Jacob began circling around the fighting mat. Jacob released a fierce cry as he stepped forward and swung, a foreseen attack but one he still expected to knock the slender woman back solely from the sheer force behind it. The dancer side stepped rather than attempting to block, quickly executing a spinning, backhanded fist that caught the officer by surprise.

Jacob stumbled forward, swinging his right leg around in attempt to make contact with London's ribcage. The sniper was a step ahead, already having moved away to avoid the defensive maneuver. Her eyebrows knitted as she observed the way he moved, the sound of his screams when he attacked. This is just a spar…right?

While Jacob steadied himself she sprinted forward and leapt in a flying kick aimed at his stomach, one leg bending while the other became practically horizontal to the ground below. The officer had only just managed escaping impact, quickly taking one hand and grabbing the sniper's outstretched leg behind the knee, while the other hand swung around to take the woman by the throat, instantly slamming her down onto the mat.

"What the hell," London gasped as her back hit the ground in full force, eyes widening as she felt all the air rush from her lungs.

"I said I wasn't going to take it easy on you." Jacob did not hesitate as he brought a tightly closed fist down upon her, missing the woman but hitting the mat as the dancer narrowly rolled away, coughing and breathing deeply. The ex-Cerberus officer could already feel victory close at hand as he continued the pressure, never relenting and letting the woman catch her breath. He pumped his arms quickly firing off a barrage of jabs and uppercuts, narrowly missing each and every time as the brunette weaved and dodged.

The officer had a scowl, his eyes never leaving his opponent.

Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead, eyebrows furrowed as she thought of a way to gain the offensive position. Jacob swung again, putting the full force of his weight behind the jab as London swayed and ducked, lowering herself to a crouch and swinging her outstretched leg clockwise. The officer was late to jump and his sure footing was taken from him, a loud thud echoing throughout the cargo deck as he slammed into the floor. London pressed forward, lifting her leg straight up towards the ceiling before slamming it down towards Jacob's chest.

He rolled away from the lethal chop, quickly getting to his feet only to sprint and shove his right shoulder into the dancer, his strong arms wrapping around the woman and bringing her down. London cried out at the contact as they rolled together, the officer having the fortune to land on top. The sniper released a hard right hook that directly hit Jacob's padded jaw, the force making his vision go blurry for the slightest of moments. He responded by bringing his knee to greet her protected rib cage, the strength of it making the woman grit her teeth and lower her arms to protect her sides which in turn gave Jacob the opportunity to place a quick jab to her face, causing the woman to growl and writhe beneath his hold. She rocked her body and slithered beneath his weight until she could twist and lift her hips up to wrap her legs around the officer's neck.

Jacob flailed and grunted, lifting his hands to her knees in vain attempt to loosen the woman's clench. But her thighs held tight and she inhaled sharply as she added more pressure. The officer squirmed, hard fists coming down onto her covered shins, thighs, and lower abdomen. London hissed at the pain, feeling her legs began to quake.

It lasted that way for only moments more before Jacob hit the mat three times, his voice hoarse as he called the match in submission. London instantly released him and rolled away onto her back. Her head was spinning as she inhaled deeply. "I...win…"

Jacob nodded, the anger inside of him seeming to burn down to a simmer as a hand massaged his throat.

The sniper slowly sat up, hissing as she held her sore side. "So..that throat thing? Yeah, that was a little bit uncalled for don't you think? What was that about?"

Jacob decided to sit up as well. It was easier to observe London this way, the look in his dark colored eyes almost judgmental. "Tell me something…"

"I don't think I'm required to tell you anything," she answered in defense, noticing the cold look she was being given. "But I'll listen to your question."

"Is it true?" he asked persistently, not caring about her retort. "Just tell me that much."

Quietly she got to her feet and gathered her belongings, never bothering to look back as she went up the staircase. "I have to shower."

xxxxxxx

[8:25AM/ 11.5 hours till infiltration/ Miranda's Office]

"Hold still or you're going to make me paint the whole toe," London said in amusement, eyebrows soon knitting in concentration as she dipped the small brush back into the nail-polish container. "You alright up there? You look like you're about to pass out."

Miranda looked down at her toes and exhaled in response, her eyes warily looking over London.

London smiled gently as she delicately applied the elegant red color onto the perfectly shaped toe nails, "I know leading a mission like this might be nerve—"

"Oh it's not that, believe me. I've executed extraction missions several times and I'm perfectly comfortable with leading you all in the infiltration of the Velvet Vault."

"So you're not nervous about the mission itself, rather you're nervous about our role?"

"London, it is very rare when I myself am uncomfortable with any aspect of a mission. You can't imagine the things I've had to do as a Cerberus operative. I nodded my head, got the job done, and called it a day without so much as thinking twice." Pausing, Miranda shook her head slowly. "But this? This, I must admit, is a new one. I've never had to do anything like this, I avoided missions like this for Cerberus—ones that called for the use of feminine charms. The Illusive Man put me to work with the best and brightest because that is where I am most useful, not shaking my arse for—"

"Miranda, it's really not a—"

"— I don't like being touched." Lawson blurted out with a stiff gesture, her toes wiggling and causing London to groan unhappily, "Especially not by drunk, filthy, drooling animals. You know—"

"Sweetie?" the sniper tried again, her gray eyes trailing up the operative's body. London couldn't help but smile, entertained by the nervous but still charming babble.

"—that I'm very particular about that kind of person that's allowed anywhere near my personal vicinity. And when I mean particular I do very much mean only Oriana, Teagan, and you. So if that person is not either one of you I don't want them anywhere near my so called 'bubble'; particularly not when I'm skipping around in my small clothes!"

"Sweetie, you're rambling…"

Still completely lost in thought the operative simply continued, occasionally fanning her toes with a hand. "I mean that's completely understandable is it not? Now add onto that the," she formed quotations in the air, "necessity of dancing for the buggers and it's become a whole new issue that—"

"Miranda!" London called out loudly, laughter coloring her voice.

The operative shut her lips with a soft pop, her eyes dashing to meet London's, "What? What is it?"

London wasn't able fight her smile back as she looked onto the raven haired woman, "You're thinking that this is going to be full skin on skin action. You're making it seem like they're just going to walk around with their penis's hanging out and that it's your job to fiddle with them!"

When Miranda didn't make a comment the sniper laughed knowing better than to take offense. "Sweetie, in this business it goes as far as you let it go. Usually sex is only involved when your boss gives the okay and it concerns credits. We're not going to be there with the drastic need to earn a living. We're there to get information."

The XO ran her fingers through her own hair and released an elongated sigh. "I know all of that it's just…"

"Look," London said, her voice calm and reassuring, "believe it or not there are some rules that both dancer and client have to abide by. We are there to entertain. This mostly pertains to simple flirting, dancing, and polite conversation."

Miranda grumbled unhappily, "It's the dancing that bothers me. I don't want to do it, nor do I want you to have to partake in any aspect of it again."

"I appreciate your concern for me but they can't touch us unless we specifically say that it's okay for them to use their hands or in some cases tails. Or tentacles," London added almost as an offhanded afterthought.

The operative suppressed the need to gag.

"Here," London laughed as she got up and stood in front of the seated Lawson, "Spread your legs a little."

Miranda's eyebrow went up as she stared into London's eyes, "At least by me dinner first?"

The sniper rolled her eyes but couldn't repress the smirk from forming on her lips, "Shush. Now, pretend that you're the client and that I'm the dancer. In this case, let's say the client is a male, yes? Spread your legs a little and sit more like a man would. Relax."

Miranda sighed but obeyed none the less, uncrossing her legs and spreading them to accommodate the dancer in between her thighs. "Now," London began softly, "when you start to get closer to the client, like I am now, ask them politely to place their hands on the arms of the chair. If the chair has no arms, then simply ask them to keep their hands out of the way and to their sides. They are not allowed to touch you."

Lawson nodded, doing as instructed and keeping her hands to her side as London began to sway to the slow, sensuous music that only the sniper seemed to hear. "You do all the moving," London said quietly as she placed herself in Miranda's lap, "You choose what part of your body touches theirs," she continued, leaning forward and softly flushing the entire front of her torso against the operatives, moving her hips to the unheard melody.

Miranda's eyebrow twitched, "…do all clients get such treatment?"

London wrapped her arms lazily around Miranda's neck and grinned as she noticed what appeared to be several difficult emotions flitting across the XO's face. "There's no special treatment, only dancing. Now may I continue the lesson?"

Miranda bit her lower lip to keep silent but nodded her head in response.

"Good. Now, always remember that you are in charge of the situation. If the client cannot meet your demands it is within your right to simply stop and walk away. If there is a problem and the dance is private, a bouncer will always be stationed outside the room. Remember if we are to remain undercover you cannot take matters into your own hands, Miranda. Run out of the room and let the bouncers take care of it."

Lawson swallowed harshly as she felt the heat between their two bodies increase, her baby blue eyes peering heavily at London. "…I know."

London looked down onto the XO in concern, her hands gently caressing and cupping either side of Miranda's flustered face, "I'm so sorry…am I really making you uncomfortable? I can remove myself? I'm only trying to offer a little bit of insight."

A quick, vehement shake of the head was the only given response as Miranda clutched the bed sheets tightly, the knuckles on her hands whitening. The dancer tilted her head and took notice of Lawson's delicate fingers, watching as they curled and flexed forcefully, nails slightly digging into the soft skin of her palm through the sheets. They were still taking the relationship slowly but as London readjusted herself to make their arrangement more comfortable for the operative, Lawson too moved, her thigh unintentionally grazing London's center. The brunette gasped and Miranda's eyes widened feeling her stomach flip, the warmth of London's core making her own heart quicken.

They were unsure of how to proceed afterwards. One wanted to comfort and encourage while the other wanted to apologize and explain.

"It's…it's okay…" London soothingly assured the raven haired woman by leaning in to place a small kiss on her forehead, her voice soon lowering in sincerity. It was a voice only meant for the operative's ears. "It was nothing. But…if you did want to touch me…that would be okay too."

Miranda felt as if someone had just knocked the wind out of her. She inhaled sharply, her hands slightly beginning to tremble. "London," she said quietly, "I don't know if this is the right time or…"

The sniper shook her head slowly, raising a finger to place against Lawson's lips. "I know. I'm not asking you to do anything, or even saying that you should… I just want you to know that it's alright. It didn't bother me or make me uncomfortable. It wasn't unpleasant and you didn't hurt me. I don't mind the touching as long as the person is you...the woman who saved my life: twice, the woman who I've grown to trust. My hero," she teased tentatively, hoping to lighten the mood.

Two perfect eyebrows furrowed. Miranda had seen enough combat to know that it never paid to be a hero, to be the brave one. The very notion of heroism was ridiculous. Sure, in fairy tales the hero would sweep onto the scene, defeat all evil, and somehow manage to not only save the princess but win her heart. Reality was not like this. A positive outcome was seldom won leaving most situations to end in injury, death, sadness, or heartache—sometimes even all four.

It boggled her, this feeling: She was a woman of intelligence and common sense. Yet when London spoke of Miranda having saved her life on multiple occasions, the operative couldn't figure out why in those matters of seconds she had decided to push the dancer aside and take the full charge of the krogan. She couldn't figure why she chose to be those unrealistic things: a champion, valiant and daring in her shining armor. But she did know, as impractical as it was, that had she been given a second chance…she would not change her actions no matter if it meant her almost dying all over again. She would not only be brave in the face of danger, but she would be fearless… for her.

Feelings are a most disturbing and confusing thing.

London tilted her head to the side. "Are you okay?" she questioned softly as blue and gray eyes stared thoughtfully at each other. It was several moments more before Miranda nodded and allowed her fingers to bravely uncurl from their submissive positions, one arm dominantly wrapping around the dancer's slender waist while her other hand lifted itself to grasp and keep the sniper's hand. Miranda was quivering to the very core but never broke eye contact.

London bit her lower lip then sharply drew breath as she was jerked roughly into the operative's body. She could feel her heart thumping, quickening with every second that passed. "Mm," London sighed happily with a smile, bringing her free hand up to run through strands of raven hair. Miranda was always sure to keep her touches light, not daring to let her hands wander out of insecurity. Slowly Miranda tilted her head and leaned in towards the other in gentle request, eyes fluttering to a close as plush, pink lips made tender contact with a pair just as soft.

That kiss, heaven help them both.

Lawson suspected she could lose herself in the act for literally hours at a time: the suppleness of the others lips against hers, the velvet warmth that their mouths produced, the mind blowing intimacy of their tongues teasing and teeth nipping. Miranda could feel her skin tingle with a surge of heat that only seemed to intensify, her quiet murmurs threatening to transform into moans if they continued.

The need for air was an un-welcome intrusion. So when the lack thereof finally forced London to separate, Lawson frowned and craned her neck to try to reestablish connection. For the briefest of moments blue eyes managed to look past the sniper only to catch a glimpse of another intrusion just as bad: a tattooed convict.

"Oh. My. Fucking. God," said the bald biotic in dread, "Now I know why you didn't find anyone on that iPartner shit."

London snapped her head around to witness a wide-eyed Jack.

"Jack!" Miranda exclaimed, causing a nimble London to get onto her feet and off the operative. "Jack…Why are you—did you? How long—"

The biotic crossed her arms and stared at the two women in complete awe, "Oh I saw and heard the whole show, Cheerleader. All of it."

The XO paced a few steps while London bit her lower lip and looked onto the ex-convict, a nervous chuckle escaping her as she tried to change the subject, "At least I won't have to repeat the rules of entertaining right? I assume you heard them?"

"Oh no," Jack laughed out, "I pretty much got it: Grind on the guy until you get pregnant. Check."

Miranda sank back onto her bed and covered her face, her muffled voice small with embarrassment, "Out of all the people on this ship …"

"Lawson, Lawson, Lawson," Jack mockingly scolded, "Lock your damn door! Don't get me wrong, I love embarrassing you but I gotta admit that this surprises the hell outta' me! Shit, I'm impressed! Who would've known that you preferred clams over hotdogs?"

London wrinkled her eyebrows in dislike, "Jack that's not—"

"And you! I don't know what the hell you're thinking but I give you credit for having some seriously big balls. I mean…you and another chick is unexpected as is, but you and the Ice Queen?"

"Oh you're one to fucking talk, Jack!" Miranda spat out sourly, "I've read your dossier, and I know the things you've done, the situations you've been in, and who you've been in them with." London looked over in surprise. It wasn't like the operative to lose her 'cool'.

"Yeah, yeah, I've dabbled," Jack confessed imperturbably, "but it wasn't because I preferred sea-food city over meat-ville. There's a difference between being attracted to the taco and being confused and very drunk. Damn," Jack thought with a wicked grin, "this certainly puts a twist on the mission, doesn't it? How are you going to feel about it when she's up on a man wiggling and jiggling?"

London gasped, "Jack!"

Miranda shook her head and glared icicles into the tattooed woman, "You stop that right now. This doesn't change a thing. We're getting Sanders, getting out, and that's the end of it. Now do you actually need anything or have you come just to make my life difficult? I want you to leave."

"Aw, what a nice thing to say… and as much as I would love to say 'yes' to that question, that's not why I'm here. Shepard told me to gather you two up. We'll be at the Citadel in fifteen."

London took a step forward, "We'll be ready to go. And Jack?"

The ex-convict raised her hand, "You don't gotta say it, it's already all over both your faces. I won't say shit about the little show I just saw. Who am I gonna tell? It's not like I got friends all over the place. But fair warning: Relationships don't stay secret for long aboard this ship."

London frowned as she thought back to her spar with Jacob.

Miranda squint her eyes, "Duly noted."

Jack laughed through a wide smile as she waved the operative and sniper off and turned to leave, "Later, lesbos."

"Screw it, I'm going to kill her now. She's just rude for the sake of being rude. I don't care if others see," the XO said quickly, turning in pursuit.

London turned to face the dark haired woman and reached out with a little grin, "At this rate there won't be much of a crew left aboard the Normandy with the way you're going, Ms. Lawson."

"Don't worry, I'll leave the important ones," came the almost hissed reply.

The sniper exhaled and walked over to the other woman, her hand rubbing the XO's back soothingly, "Jack is right. They're all going to find out sooner or later, Miranda. It's a small ship."

Lawson nodded her head slowly, "…I know."

London pulled the other woman to sit beside herself on the bed. She didn't want to say what she was about to, fighting with her heart every step of the way and wanting to be selfish. However in the end, the concern for Miranda outweighed her own happiness. "…if…if this is turning out to be something you don't want I wouldn't be angry at you for saying so. I understand the pressures you have to undergo on day to day bases."

Miranda quickly turned to face the other, "London?"

"I care for you so very much but I don't want to add to that pressure. I feel like I'm this big secret and if any one finds out that you'll be ruined somehow." Her heart ached inside of her chest as she led them down a road she didn't want to be anywhere near, "Maybe this wasn't the best time for you to be in a relationship?"

The operative was quiet for a moment, considering her words carefully before daring to open her mouth, "Have I ever told you about Delilah?"

Sheer confusion was evident in London's face but she just shook her head in response. "No, I don't think you have."

"I," Miranda smiled, her eyes looking onto a blank wall almost as if she could see what she spoke of, "I used to have this doll when I was smaller. It was given to me by my first nanny, Nevaeh."

London nodded her head.

"As you know, despite my accomplishments my perfectionist father never approved of me. It wasn't Neva's place and she was thick to ever present the doll to me but…she was kind when my father was not. I suppose it was her way of showing that someone cared about my accomplishments as a child. She told me that the doll's name was Delilah. It was old and a little bit on the ragged side, but I remember being completely enchanted by it. It had this faded red, curly hair and wore a gold dress adorned with fringe that had yellowed with age. My father had never bought me dolls."

"Was your father angry?"

"Oh," Miranda nodded, "when he found out he turned bloody blue and purple he was so angry. Toys were not allowed in the house. I was not a child to him. I was a dynasty and if I was to completely succeed I had to work and keep working. There was no time for play. So not only was Nevaeh fired and thrown from the house in a less than respectable manner…but he took my doll, dragged me to the fire place and threw Delilah in while making me watch. I had her less than four hours before she was taken and destroyed. My nanny was replaced every two months or so after that."

London shook her head, "Miranda, I'm so sorry."

The operative closed her eyes for a moment, "I'm not looking for sympathy, London." She exhaled, opening her lids to find London's eyes. "…what I'm trying to say is I've never had anything of my own. My entire life has been about pleasing others; doing their work, managing their people, executing their plans, keeping their secrets. I was fine with that because it gave me purpose and kept me busy. But…times have changed and I find that I am changing with it. London, what we are is very important to me. I'm sorry if it seems that I overly stress about keeping this relationship private, but honestly I want it that way because for the first time I have something that's mine only—that no one knows about. I don't want to share," she added softly, praying that the dancer didn't think of her as a self-centered child, "I enjoy knowing that what we have no one else can take or interfere with."

"Miranda," London said tenderly, finally exhaling the breath she'd been holding as she reached to take the other woman's hands in her own, "That won't change in the slightest whether no one knows or a million people know because they don't matter to me. There isn't a single person that can take me away or impede upon what we've started, okay?"

The XO nodded, approaching the subject delicately, "I know that there might be some…issues that I haven't quite worked out but…I'm trying. I understand what you're saying, and I'll try to be more at ease with the thought of others knowing, but frankly?"

"Yes?"

"We just need to lock the bloody door!"

London laughed, little wrinkles forming in the corner of her eyes as she leaned in to plant a kiss on the corner of Lawson's mouth. "I agree whole heartedly. Now come on, we'll be docking at the Citadel any second."

xxxxxxx

[9AM/ 11 hours till infiltration/ The Citadel]

"Alright, ladies" Shepard began, folding his arms and looking into each one of the women's eyes, "today's agenda is going to be a little different than what you may be used to. Flex won't be at Afterlife till around five this evening, so that gives us about an eight hour window to get your clothing, learn whatever basics need learning, and plan out all the finer little details. I already contacted the 'After Dark Fashions' manager and she has agreed to come in early this morning to help you ladies out with whatever it is you might need. I suggest you take advantage of the time you have so let's start. Be back aboard the Normandy by five. Lawson, they're all yours. I have to go pick a few things up."

The executive officer nodded her head, "Yes, Commander."

"Alright then move it out."

The XO extended her arm in the direction of the Citadel's main floor, "Ladies, after you."

Jack rolled her eyes behind her dark visor before turning to follow London's lead, "This is going to be a great day let me tell you."

xxxxxxx

Miranda had pressed the elevator's button, sending the small room upwards towards the top floors of the Citadel. Jack leaned against the glass window as she watched the ground grow smaller and smaller with each passing second. "So what are we shoppin' for exactly?"

London followed Jack's line of vision and smiled, "In short we're going to be buying some really nice lingerie."

"Figured as much," the ex-convict said in a huff, "so then answer me this: Where the hell will we be keeping our weapons? Lingerie isn't exactly known for its many gun holsters."

Lawson folded her arms and tapped her fingers along her elbow, "I guess that'll be one of the 'finer little details' we'll have to work out."

"And what about my amp?"

Miranda grinned, "Would you like us to purchase a wig for you? We could buy one in hot pink, yes?"

The sniper watched as the ex-convict's fist balled and quickly spoke up, "They won't be looking at your ears. Trust me."

Jack released a harsh puff of air and settled back against the wall, "Well they won't be lookin at my boobs either. Ain't got any."

"Jack," London reassured calmly, "what a woman lacks in one area, she can usually make up for in another. So what if you don't have breasts? That just means we'll have to put emphasis on your…." London lowered her gaze towards Jack's butt and legs.

The ex-convict followed her eyes and smirked, "Think they got somethin' for me?"

London chuckled, "After Dark Fashions has something for everyone."

xxxxxxx

[After Dark Fashions Lingerie Boutique]

As soon as the elevator doors opened, a tall, slender woman with big, blonde hair was waiting right by the door, a wide, fake smile plastered onto her face. The woman was wearing too much make-up and her attire consisted of a crème colored skirt-suit that cut off properly right above the knee. "Hi, ya'll!" she called out excitedly, a thick southern accent echoing through the already busy floor of the Citadel. "On behalf of all the fine workers here I'd like to welcome you to The After Dark Fashions Intimate Apparel Boutique! My name is Gracie and I'll be helping you with your purchases this fine mornin'! Huggsies!"

Miranda quirked one of her perfect brows in confusion and looked over to London for an answer, "Huggsies?"

Before the operative knew what hit her, Gracie had enveloped the XO in a tight southern hug. Lawson remained perfectly still, her jaw clenched tightly as she shot another glance at the sniper who was already trying so hard not to laugh.

Jack swallowed the giant lump in her throat, her voice coming out tiny and quaking, "God? If you're there please help me. Send one of your smites down to hit that woman in the face? And possibly Lawson's too?"

Gracie had moved onto London, engulfing the sniper in a tight hug. The brunette gave a half grin and awkwardly offered a few light pats on the manager's back. "It's nice to meet you, Gracie."

"Oh please, honey-bun, call me Grace!" the manager said quickly, offering a flop of the wrist and a soft chuckle as she moved on to stand in front of Jack. Gracie had just begun to extend her arms before the ex-convict put two fingers on the manager's chest and held the woman at an arms distance. "Listen up real careful, lady. Touch me and I'll smack that clown makeup right off your face."

Grace leaned away from the violent woman, her eyes narrowing and mouth twisting into a scowl. "This one's not much of a lady, is she?"

Miranda turned to walk into the boutique, "That's Jack, and no—she's really not."

"Jack?" the manager asked quizzically, "Jack as in Jackie? Jacqueline," She added with a suave French accent, "Ooo!," Grace continued to squeal, "Is it Jacqueline—please say yes? Were you earthborn too, darlin'! I was from the south but you're French perhaps? Parlez vous francais?"

Jack narrowed her eyes, her temper already starting to flare. She pointed a rigid finger over towards the floors railing. They were near the very top of the Citadel and it was a long, long way down. "Lady, if you don't stop talking to me I'm going to parlez vous your ass right over that safety railing and send you back down south."

Grace stood there silently, seemingly oblivious to the threat and more concerned over Jack's skill at her supposed second language. "You silly goose, that just made no sense what so ever!"

The biotic watched as the manager turned, giggling madly as if just hearing a really good joke. Jack's eyes went into slits as she helplessly followed, her mouth silently forming a stream of cuss words.

xxxxxxx

"Okay mademoiselles," Grace said cheerfully, purposefully eyeballing Jack and winking, "do you already have what you want in mind, or will we be starting from scratch?"

London shrugged lightly, "I, uh, have some ideas, but honestly I think it'd be best to just review our body types and determine what style of lingerie would fit. What do you think?" she asked, turning to face both Miranda and Jack.

"That sounds fine with me," the operative agreed.

"I don't give a shit." Jack said flatly, tossing herself down onto one of the departments many fluffy sitting chairs.

Gracie pursed her lips as she turned her attention to the lewd woman covered in tattoos, "I guess we'll just have to start with you then, Ms. Grouchy-Pants."

Jack released a low growl as she stood right back up from her seat, "Figures."

"Pray tell darlin', but are those tattoos real or are they a removable fashion statement perhaps? If so will you be removin' them so we can see the beautiful young woman underneath all that muck?"

The ex-convict looked the store's manager over and clenched her jaw shut, her attitude beginning to go farther south. "Real."

"Great," Grace said in obvious and very dramatic distaste. "I suppose we'll just have to find something that can somehow work with…that."

Jack exhaled heavily, "Look lady, just tell me what you want me to do. The faster I get outta' here, the less likely I am to burn down your store."

"Oh tsk-tsk, there will be no speaking of burning my boutique down. I can't rush this! We're going to have to take a look at what kind of body you have, darlin' so let's strip you down. I'll need to take a few measurements so I can determine your size."

"Whatever," Jack said, instantly grabbing the rim of her tight, torn t-shirt and lifting it over her head. Her belt buckle and pants soon followed in a matter of moments. "What next?"

"Jack!" Miranda said through clenched teeth, "She was about to tell you to go undress in the dressing area—BEHIND closed doors."

The ex-convict brought her arms out and shrugged, "What the hell's up your ass? She told me to get in the buff for measurements and I did! Who gives a shit if it's out here or in there? We're the only ones in the store!"

The executive officer covered her eyes and turned away from the loud biotic to take a seat in one of the lounging chairs. Jack turned around to notice that several men and a few women had stopped whatever it was they were doing and were now staring at her from beyond the stores entrance way. Jack placed her hands on her hips and leaned into the small crowd, "Take a holo and get the hell outta' here, will ya?"

"Jack," London said carefully, "maybe you should scoot into the changing area?"

The biotic snorted and pointed out in the direction of the little crowd, "I'm wearing a freakin' bra and panties! They're just acting like they ain't never seen a woman's goods before! You all ain't virgins are you?" She called out, turning her attention back to the small group of people who now cleared their throats and attempted to continue on their way. "That's what I thought."

"Oh my sweet baby lord," Grace said uneasily, walking over and taking the shameless biotic by the elbow, "if you'll just walk this way towards the dressing area, I'll be happy to start your measurements."

"Hey watch those hands, lady!"

Miranda looked at the convict in awe, "You'd swear she was six years old if you didn't know any better. It's like she tries her hardest to be as difficult as possible."

London observed the fussy ex-convict with a grin, "She's a unique woman with unique circumstances and I rather like her. I also wish you two wouldn't argue so much. I bet if you would just give each other five minutes of calm conversation that you'd be surprised at the outcome."

Lawson shook her head as she watched Gracie practically stuff the cussing Jack into the changing stall, "The words calm and Jack don't fit together in the same sentence whatsoever. Besides…it always ends up getting personal and we just get angry. You were there earlier today were you not? It was like a big joke to her! I mean: Sea-food city? Meat-Ville? Where does she get this crap? We're better off just completely avoiding each other."

The sniper laughed softly with a shrug, "So she has a rougher personality I'll admit. But she's really not a bad person, Miranda. She's got her cuts and bruises just like us. She just goes about handling them a different way. I think she's changed a lot since I've first met her. Maybe Shepard has something to do with that but…it's definitely a change for the better."

"I guess there's another major difference between us then."

"Oh?" London questioned, "And what difference would that be?"

"You're really too nice at times. You're one of those 'always see good in people' types aren't you?"

"No," the gray eyed woman chuckled honestly, "I'm one of those 'some people deserve the benefit of the doubt' types. One day when everyone's world is not ending, you and I along with Jack are going to sit down in some quiet place, have a few drinks, and a pleasant conversation."

Miranda smirked at the thought, "How about when we actually do get that time off it's just us first and then…"

"And then?" London happily encouraged.

"….and then," Miranda paused, slouching in her seat, "…then I'll think about it."

"Well think quickly," London playfully warned, "That day might be sooner than you think."

"Young woman, please stand still!" came the exhausted voice from within the stall. Once Gracie had secured the ex-convict behind closed doors she instantly retrieved her measuring tape. "Pick your arms up and hold them out, please!"

Jack mumbled under her breathe but did as instructed, watching the woman move quickly all around her, making various mutters and odd noises as she took the biotic's measurements. "Well, you're much smaller in the chest area than most of our costumers but I do believe we have just the thing for you!"

"Look at my face. I'm so excited I'm practically bursting." Jack replied in mono-tone, her expression perfectly… expressionless.

The manager offered the convict an unimpressed look before momentarily disappearing from the stall only to come back with a tiny bundle of black apparel. "Try these on. This is from our signature 'Sexy Little Things' collection, the "Bad Girl" edition. I present to you the satin lace-up corset with the built in 'lover-girl' push up pads. You have those lace leavers as an extension if you choose to wear thigh-highs, and a pair of matching black lace panties, low cut to show the entire midriff but accentuate the buttocks and thighs."

"Speak English!" Jack demanded, her eyes narrowing towards the southern woman.

Gracie exhaled in annoyance, "It's a corset that makes your boobs look big while placing emphasis on your tummy and butt."

"Why didn't you just fuckin' say that?" Jack asked, opening to the dressing room door to quickly push the manager out and try on her new outfit.

"Well I never—!" the southern woman gasped as she was forced out of the stalls, her eyes in slits as she glared at the now closed doors, "Is she always like this?" Grace asked the other pair of women in a harsh tone.

"Is she always vulgar, rude, and ill-tempered?" "Miranda responded with ease, "Yes."

"Hey lady, I already finished putting on the panties. Get your ass in here and lace this thing up!" Jack called from within the stall.

London could have sworn she saw Gracie's nostrils flare as she re-entered the changing area. "Well," the sniper said softly, "at least she got the hardest part of her day over and done with first."

Miranda watched the changing room with curiosity, "I have to hand it to Grace. I was expecting her to last fifteen minutes in there with Jack before breaking down the stall door and shouting that she quit her job."

London chuckled, "And I have to hand it to Jack. She's been with Grace quite a while and has managed not to kill her.

"Touché."

Minutes passed but they did not pass in silence. Jack kept her tongue sharp, often commenting on how slow the manager was at lacing up the corset only to then be hushed by Gracie roughly pulling the laces tightly In hopes of cutting off the improper woman's air supply. "Madam, I will have you know that lacing a corset properly is an art form! It takes time and above all—patience!"

The XO sighed lightly from the outside, her words low and mumbled, "Boy did she ever pick the wrong outfit to give Jack."

"Well shit, lady! I ain't got all day! And you better teach someone to do this lace business because I won't be walking out of here in this. I ain't got to wear it till much later."

"There, you impatient cow!" Gracie hissed, finally tying the two laces together in a delicate bow at the bottom of the corset. "Go and show your friends!"

Jack burst through the door and stood before both of her teammates. "Well?"

Both women's eyebrows went up in shock. London blinked a few times in disbelief, "The corset suits you, Jack. You look…well…you look sexy. I think it'll do. How do you feel in it?"

"Eh, I've worn less."

"Understatement of the century," Miranda said sarcastically.

London smiled, "Do you know what kind of heel you'll be wearing?"

"Heel?" Jack scoffed, "I ain't wearing no heels. I'm wearing my combat boots and that's the end of it."

Miranda frowned, "You're wearing combat boots with black laced lingerie? You can't be serious."

"Well why the hell not? My boots are black. They match."

"Have you no taste?"

London chuckled, "It might work. You'll have more of the 'tough girl' appearance but a lot of mercenaries are really into that. It'll go with your tattoos. Now all you need is the whip!" she joked lightly.

"I get a whip?" Jack replied, her eyes lighting up in anticipation.

Miranda groaned, "It was a joke. You're not playing a dominatrix for God's sake."

"We do have an assortment of whips and bonds if you're interested," Gracie decided to casually throw into the conversation; "Not every high end boutique sells such things, but they came specifically for our 'Naughty Girl' collection. It's mostly just for decoration but there's one that would match that outfit perfectly as a matter of fact. It's black leather with an intricate handle design. Are you interested?"

"Yes!" Jack practically shouted.

"Very well, I'll just add that up to the total!"

"Great," Lawson said unenthusiastically. "Now she has a whip."

London grinned, "It'll be alright."

"And there ya have it, folks" Jack said, "straight from the mouth of the master. Corset, combat boots, and whip it is! Ring it up, bozo." She said, turning her attention towards the manager with heavy make-up. "And get me out of this damn thing."

xxxxxxx

"Now this is a woman!" Grace exclaimed as she took Miranda's measurements behind closed doors. "Oh my dear you'll have many options to choose from. Do you have the slightest idea in what you'd prefer to wear?"

Lawson folded her arms across her chest in discomfort as Grace measured her hips and waist. "This is an unusual case for wearing lingerie so I'd prefer to wear something that mostly covers me up."

"Why would you want to cover this up?" the manager asked in a gasp, her eyes darting up to look at Miranda's face. "There's so much here to work with, suga', it'd be a cryin' shame to try and hide it."

"Just do as I ask, Grace."

The manager huffed, "I'll do what I can, honey-bun, but I don't promise you anything. This is a lingerie boutique after all. If you were lookin' to cover up to begin with this shouldn't have been your first choice for shopping. There is a discount shop quite a few levels below this store. Perhaps you could pick yourself up a nice cotton robe?"

Miranda frowned at the store manager. The words discount and the last name Lawson did not go well together. "I have a lot that needs to get done today, so I would appreciate it if you could possibly withhold your useless comments. Either help me in making a selection, or call London in here so she can do your job for you."

Grace pursed her lips as she observed Miranda's neutral face. "Ah, I can see you're a woman of means Ms. Lawson. Used to gettin' her way and getting' it done fast. I'll see what we have and try to match it best with what preferences you've given me."

"I've ordered quite a few outfits from this brand, Grace. And if my memory serves me correctly you should have quite the selection of babydolls. Am I right?"

Gracie crossed her arms and nodded her head, "We do. Is the babydoll style the one that would interest you most?"

"I think it would. Don't bring me something that's pure lace. I want it to have a solid color around the cups; I do not wish to reveal my breasts. The actual 'flowing' part of the babydoll may be sheer, preferably mesh and stretchable."

Grace raised a brow, "Anything else?"

"Bring me what you have and we'll see from there."

Minutes later Grace returned with several choices to choose from. She was asked to spread them all out along the length of the dressing room bench and stand back. Miranda was quick to discard those she found unappealing or too revealing, soon narrowing down the choices to a mere three: a pink, white, and soft plum babydoll. "London," the operative called out calmly, "Will you please come in and assist me in making a decision?"

"Sure," answered the sniper coolly. When London had finally entered she observed the remainder of the choices on the bench. Her decision was instantaneous as she pointed towards the pastel plum color. "Most definitely that one is the perfect one."

"That quickly?" Miranda asked, her eyebrow rising in concern. "Are you sure?"

"It's an excellent choice," Grace said with a nodding head, "From our classic collection, a beautifully crafted babydoll made of both the finest lace and mesh. The straps are adjustable for comfort and it's solid around the breasts but sheer around the abdomen. The gown should fall just two inches below the pelvis; it leaves plenty to the imagination but shows off the entirety of your thighs and legs."

"It goes two inches beneath my pelvis? So basically I can't bend over. What panties go underneath this outfit?"

Grace laughed lightly, "Darlin' don't be silly! This doesn't come with panties. For this little number you'll have to wear the matching v-string."

Miranda's eyes went into a slit, and London reached out to hold onto the operative's forearm. "V-strings aren't so bad. They're sexy but still manage to keep it tasteful. The color of the 'V' is solid isn't it, Grace?"

The manager nodded her head, "To match the cups, yes it is. It's a lovely v-string if I do say so myself. A delicate cut of lace adorns the shape, it really is quite pretty."

London turned to Miranda with an encouraging look, "Try it on to see how you feel. This isn't about feeling sexy, it's about feeling comfortable. If you don't like it I'm sure there is something else."

Miranda nodded her head and waited for both Grace and London to exit the dressing room. Slowly she removed herself of her own undergarments before dressing into the pastel plum babydoll. Lawson was surprised as how freeing it actually felt. The outfit was comfortable and didn't show as much as she thought it would. While the gown was sheer, it wasn't so sheer that neither every little detail of the body beneath nor her v-string could be completely seen. Miranda observed the way she looked in the mirror intently, turning her body and looking over her shoulder then turning again to examine her full front.

"How are we doing in there, suga'?" Grace voiced out from the other side of the door.

"I'll take it."

"Not going to show us?" Gracie asked again in clear curiosity, unsatisfied with such a boring response.

"There's no need. It looks fine."

The manager sighed in boredom and rolled her eyes, "Very well, I'll add it to the tally—next!"

xxxxxxx

"Now stop me if I'm wrong, sweetness, but you seem like the kind of woman who knows her way around a good piece of lingerie."

London nodded her head and smiled as Grace took her measurements, "Guilty."

"Hallelujah! Well then this should make my life all kinds of easy. What do you have in mind, darlin'?"

"Well I would consider my stomach and legs to be my finer features, so I was considering a cut-out teddy?"

After reviewing the sniper's measurements a little more closely the manager sprung to her feet with a wide grin, "I would have suggested the same thing myself and I think I have just the thing for you!"

London offered a smile in return as she watched the excited manager exit the dressing room. "She must really like this job," she mumbled quietly to herself.

"Is everything alright?" Miranda asked from the outside.

"Yeah, everything is fine. Grace went to get something that she thinks would look good on me."

"Thank God," Jack moaned loudly in the background, "I'm fuckin' starving' over here!"

London grinned as her eyes traced some of the other pieces in her stall, "Sorry, Jack! I'll be as quick as possible. We'll be out of here before you know it."

"Maybe even sooner!" Grace said loudly and animatedly, "I have just the thing you're looking for right here in my hands!"

Miranda eyed the blonde woman as she walked from the back rooms towards the dressing room. She looked like she was barley holding anything in her hands at all. "That's the outfit London is going to wear?"

Grace nodded her head, "She said she wanted a cut-out so I got her the best design we had. It's not released yet so let's keep this on the hush-hush shall we? It won't hit the shelves till next week."

"Bring it in and let me see, Grace." London asked from inside the stall.

The manager nodded and squeezed her way into the door, "Here we are, sweetie! Dare to bare in this signature risk piece! It features this very sexy black, stretch lace material that hugs the breasts together while pushing them upwards, a pink ruffled trim with small satin bows in detail that line down the middle of your abdomen, and a back closure for extra comfort and safety. The panties are cut in a cheeky-bottom style with a hip tie-off that make the hinny look absolutely stunning. This piece would look perfect on you. I'm sure of it!"

London ran the soft material carefully in her hands. The piece was beautiful indeed and most likely the most expensive thing she would ever wear. "I'll try it on."

"Brilliant!" Grace beamed, stepping out of the stall soon after.

She was careful when slipping into the intricate piece, running her hands over the cloth and smoothing out all the smaller details. The lingerie complimented her body perfectly, emphasizing her well toned stomach and legs while making her breasts and butt look incredible. London tilted her head in the mirror and smiled as she ran her hands over her body. "It really is nice. I like it."

Miranda and Grace leaned into the doorway, "May we see?"

The sniper laughed softly at the overly curious pair, "Sure. The door is unlocked."

Lawson carefully pushed the door open as to not hit the woman within. When London came into view the operative's breath got caught in her chest. "London you look beauti—what happened to your ribs?"

"Just sparred a little bit this morning in the Cargo deck, it's nothing but a bruise. Make-up will cover it for tonight."

"I'll retrieve a rubbing salve from the medical bay when we get back. It'll aid the tissue in healing."

London nodded with an appreciative smile, "Thank you. I just hope the bruise doesn't distract too much for now?"

"No you still look—"

"Totally fuckin' bangable." Jack said as she peeked her head in.

Miranda rolled her eyes but managed to control the need to retort. "You look beautiful, London. It's a little more revealing than I'd like but it is a very nice piece."

The sniper's eyebrows knitted in concern, "You don't approve of it? It'll find something else."

"Nah," Jack said casually, "She's probably just worried that you'll drown in all the drool that forms around you. Those mercs will really get a kick out of you wearin' that."

"That's the plan," London said firmly, "Sex sells in there and I plan to purchase information. I want to find out everything I can about June."

Miranda scowled at the convict, "Not exactly worried about drool, but my concern is legitimate. It's a very stunning choice for you, don't get me wrong. As long as you're comfortable in it, I'm comfortable with it."

London's nodded, "I'll take it then, Grace."

The manager clapped her hands happily, "I am clueless as to what you gals are even talkin' about but I'll go ahead and add it to the tally as well then! Will there be anything else to help you ladies with this fine morning?"

"Who's tying my corset after we get leave this hell hole?" Jack demanded.

London answered, "I can do it. I've done it several times before."

Miranda shook her head towards the manager, "I think that'll be all, Grace. Just have the packages delivered to the address specified from Commander Shepard as soon as possible. We need them there and ready to go by early this afternoon. Thank you for all the help you've provided us with today."

After giving London the time to redress Gracie escorted the trio out of the boutique and sent them off with a polite wave, "Thanks for stoppin' by and you are very welcome, suga'. We'll be seein' you, ladies! Take care!"

xxxxxxx

[12PM/ 8 hours until infiltration/ The Citadel]

With the first task of the day done the three women headed back towards the elevator. "See," London said cheerfully, "that wasn't so bad was it, Jack?"

The biotic snorted as she quickly passed the elevator doors and slammed herself against the back wall before folding her arms tightly, "I would have rather been set on fire. I've never heard someone say 'sugar' or 'honey-bun' so many damn times in a day. We should go check to see if she made us diabetic."

A quickly corrected grin came forth from Miranda. "London, do you think there's anything we need to review before we continue on with the day?"

Jack snickered, "I think you learned everything you needed to this morning."

Both of the other women groaned much to Jack's satisfaction, "But really though, she doesn't needa teach us anything. This mission is going to be cake. We go in, make a few guys or gals feel special, get a little info, and get the hell out of there."

The XO shook her head, "You can't be serious…"

"If someone asks for a dance all you gotta do is wiggle your hips and shake what your mama gave you."

Miranda leaned back against the elevator wall and lifted a brow, "I didn't have a mother, Jack. I had a genome."

"Yeah well I didn't know my mother but I still figured out how to use my assets to get what I want."

"That doesn't shock me."

The ex-convict put her visor back on as she grinned, "Just answer me this, Cheerleader: In the entire span of your sexual life has a man—or woman" she added, shooting a glance at O'Conner, "…ever complained about what you look like, how sexy you were, or how good you were in bed?"

London's eyes shot to Miranda in curiosity while Lawson scoffed and looked out the window, "Don't be ridiculous, of course they haven't."

"Exactly," Jack said with a smirk, "Because they don't care if you're well trained in the act of seduction. What matters to them is that they have a beautiful, half naked woman on top of them giving them all the attention in the world."

London couldn't help but chuckle, "It's not about seduction per say, but rather about the art of suggestion."

Jack gave the dancer a bored look which in turn earned yet another laugh from the brunette before she conceded, "Fine, fine. I can't say you're entirely wrong either. When I worked at Afterlife there was a classically trained dancer working too. Let's just say I don't remember any client ever complimenting her on her education."

"Point proven, thank you very much." Jack said casually as the elevator doors opened, the three women then walking out and heading towards the Normandy. "When we put on that lingerie, they won't give a flying fuck about anything else."

Miranda looked over at London, "What was a classically trained dancer doing at Afterlife?"

"I didn't know very much about her, but I had heard that she had a red sand addiction that pretty much led her to losing everything. She's lucky the Batarians didn't pick her up when she could no longer afford to support the habit."

Jacked reached up to stretch as she yawned loudly, "Who cares about that? What about our weapons? We still haven't figured that out."

"Specialist Goto will be carrying majority of the fire arms with her," Miranda replied, "as for us we'll have to think in terms of small weaponry."

"Miranda," London said, "guns will probably be a no go for us. We'll be lucky if we can even fit a small knife between our breasts. Honestly if something does go wrong, you wouldn't want a gun to fire off in a place like that anyways. We need to keep it quiet."

The XO considered carefully, "Valid point."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jack said abruptly, holding her hands out, "are you saying we're goin' in with nothin?"

Miranda sighed, "It's not solid at this point, Jack. Once we redress we'll see what we can fit in. But I'll have you know that we'll still have our biotics; we're not exactly helpless. Plus you do have a whip, right? You can always terrorize them to death. "

The ex-convicted scowled, "Whatever."

London smiled as they turned a corner and continued walking, "Correction. You guys will have your biotics…and whips."

"Ah don't worry," Jack said, patting the dancer roughly on the back, "no matter what we got we won't let the bad men hurt you."

"You know what? Let's not talk about worst case scenario anymore, shall we?" Miranda replied composedly, "This is going to go smoothly. We won't even have a need for weapons."

"That's right," London agreed quickly, "Smooth operation the whole way."

"Yeah you two keep thinkin' that," Jack answered, "I always expect the worst. When do we not run into the worst case on this team?"

xxxxxxx

[12:15PM/ The Normandy]

Kenneth and Garrus were practically bursting out of their skin, "Really, Shepard?" they asked in unison, the rest of the Normandy team seeming just as surprised as they were.

John nodded his head, "Calibrations have been done, everyone cleared the work at their stations, the away team is prepped, and we still have around five hours left before Flex arrives at Omega. The plan has been set, the equipment is ready to go—I can't think of any other reason to keep you all here and still remain productive. We are surprisingly ahead of schedule so…"

The team seemed to lean in, dangling on every syllable that Shepard said and hoping that those five magical words would leave his lips.

"…you get two hours off."

Though every single soul on that ship refrained from outright yelling in happiness the atmosphere had completely changed. Everyone was suddenly alive and the air was practically crackling with energy. "I know I've been working you all hard," Shepard continued, "…and I know we've had no time off ever since our 'suicide mission'. It's always going to be hard and it's always going to be busy. But I'd just like to say that I appreciate each and every one of you for staying with me this far. I wouldn't be here—none of us would be here if it weren't for the unique skills that each one of us brings to this team. Take advantage of this rare opportunity and have some fun because we don't know if this is ever going to happen again. Leave the ship if you'd like, relieve all your stress but please stay out of trouble. We are still on a mission and I expect you guys to be ready to go come this evening. Are we clear?"

The team nodded their heads, offering an assortment of 'Yes, Commanders' and 'Aye, Ayes'. "Alright then, get out of here and go grab a bite to eat. Enjoy your afternoon." Shepard said with an honest smile. "And O'Conner, before you leave can you come over here for a second?"

The dancer looked at Miranda in curiosity then back towards Shepard, "Sure thing," she said quickly, "What can I do for you, Commander?"

"You don't have to do anything. While you were out I took the liberty of picking up some things for you."

"Shepard?" came the puzzled reply, "Pick some things up for me? I wasn't aware that I had ordered anything?"

John grinned, "You didn't—I did. I can't have an individual on this ship without the means of communications. You're about to go on a mission and I can't have a teammate out of reach. I'm actually surprised you got along this far without one. So here," he added casually, throwing a small chip incased in a heavy, hard plastic towards her, "an omni-tool."

Her eyes widened as she caught the tiny thing, "Shepard, this isn't necessary—"

"Of course it is," he interrupted, "no one on this ship goes anywhere without one. I have a close friend that makes these so it wasn't a big deal. It has a state of the art micro-frame and sensor pack, along with a top grade mini-facturing fabricator. It has a ton of memory so don't be shy about packing it up. I also had a few things added to it such as the ability to administer first aid and a slight boost to your non-biotic talents. It's pretty much an infiltrator's dream."

London gazed upon the tiny chip in awe, "I—"

"Don't say anything because we're not done yet. Here," he said, pulling two alloy looking hilts out of his belt, "these are yours too. My friend Liara came by these and sent them to me. I figured you'd probably get the most use out of them as seeing your skills with knives."

The sniper eyed the two small hilts in the palm of Shepard's hand curiously, "My skill with knives? Is that what they are?"

"They're actually kind of amazing. I've yet to see anything like this on the market but yes, that is what they are."

Shepard asked London to hold one of the hilts while he demonstrated with the other, "It's not the kind of knife you might be used to, far from being a regular military grade tactical knife. The blade is plasma based. Pure energy forced and suspended into a containment field. The plasma itself has no weight, so you'll most likely have to practice carefully before putting them to use. Liara instructed that you learn to balance the weight in the hilt to control it."

John then proceeded to activate the energy, holding the blade away from his body and allowing the bright white light to stretch out.

"That's not a fuckin' knife," Jack said flatly, watching as the blade extended, "That's a damn short sword… and a flashlight."

"Knife or 'Short sword', a blade is a blade and these blades makes absolutely no noise," he said slicing through the air carefully, "so it's a choice weapon when rifles aren't an option and enemies are in melee range. Certainly beats the hell out of hitting a target with the butt of a gun."

London watched the blade carefully as it moved through the air, "What about enemy shields, Commander?"

"Unless you can swing at someone with the same force and speed as a bullet then shields shouldn't activate—it goes through it all: Nano-crystal shielding, Geth Shielding, and even kinetic barriers. It'll go straight through to the flesh of the person. But don't worry, if by chance you do end up chopping something off," he added, shutting off the hilt and extending it towards London, "… it cauterizes."

Jack scoffed, "Peachy. I've cut off your arms and legs—but hey! Don't worry! At least you won't bleed to death! High-five! Oh wait…"

The sniper eyed John closely, "And you're sure you want…me to have them?"

"If I didn't they wouldn't be in your hands, O'Conner. Practice with them when you get the chance. I think we can turn some more space in the Cargo deck into a practice area if need be. I'm sure the whole team would like that. I know Grunt and Specialist Taylor have wanted a proper work out room."

London nodded slowly, looking down into her hands at both hilts and the small omni-chip. "I really don't know what to say except…thank you, Commander."

"There's no need for thanks. Anyways, that's all that I needed to give you. Go on and have a nice afternoon, O'Conner. I'll see you back here in a few."

"Yes, Commander" the dancer replied with quick nod before turning back towards a curious Miranda and walking off.

As the team scattered out and into the citadel Jack walked up towards the Commander, who still had his eye on his second in command and London. "Is it me or have they been spending a lot of time together?"

The biotic shrugged, "Who cares. What are we doing with our time off?" she asked, a grin forming on her lips. "A lot of really, really good sex?"

"While that plan is definitely enticing I think I'll take this opportunity to take you out. I just need to go up to my cabin and change."

Jack's eyeballed Shepard with a lifted brow, "A date? Seriously? No sex?"

"Seriously," he mused, taking Jack by the hands then bringing the woman close and holding them behind her lower back. He held her in his arms for a few quiet moments with a smirk before speaking, "Or we could do whatever you want to do as long as it involves leaving the ship for a little bit. Have anything in mind?"

"I…" The biotic looked down at her feet, considering her words before presenting them to her commander. "Actually…there is something that I've been thinking about. I had this talk with London back on Watson and…it's a little stupid and probably pointless but it made me think. I want to try. And you have to promise to let me make the call if anything comes up."

"Make the call on what? What decision will you have to make?"

"Promise first."

"Give me a little hint as to what I'm getting myself into before I sign my name on it? Please?"

The biotic looked deeply onto him and John froze, noticing that there seemed to be no mischief hiding in the dark of her eyes. Instead there was only a lingering sadness that danced upon the hues of her hazel orbs, layers upon layers of life experience mixed with the inability to answer why all of it had all happened to her. However, there was also something else he saw: a small spark of childlike curiosity that showed her humanity was still there, hidden beneath the years of torture and rape and trying so desperately to come out. It was this spark that made her both beautiful and irresistible in his eyes.

John's life had always been about war and survival. Jack was his release from the violence: his sanctuary, his balance. Out of all the places to find innocence, the last place anyone would have ever thought to look…was Jack. But he found it and he was never letting go.

"Alright…I promise."

The corners of the biotic lips lifted into a genuine smile that simply took Shepard's breath away. "Then," she said, "Let's do this."

"Do what, exactly?"

She looked around quickly to make sure no one else was present before rolling onto her toes to press her full lips against his. She then leaned into his ear with a whisper soft voice.

Shepard nodded his head seriously. "I can help you with that. It might take a while but I can most definitely help you with that."

[End of 26: Tricks and Tools of the Trade]

A/N: The next chapter will be posted on Monday or Tuesday of next week!

Concrit, reviews, and random comments are always appreciated.

With many thanks to: bergachaea, Hewhoislost, MEFan1, CloudGazer15, tachello, mmmcereal, Octo8, Naaa-E, Renja, Janizary, Tyr'amun, Aaron, Jennifer Gray, and of course Zebrahater.

You guys are amazing. =) Thanks for sticking with me on my first fan-fiction journey.