Chapter Thirty-Six
Double Deluxe with all the Trimmings

SSV Tai-Shan, Sol System Approach

With his lips pursed tight in disapproval, Fleet Admiral Kessler read the entirety of the missive in front of him. On the opposite side of the desk, a young Lieutenant was forced to wait at attention. By the time he reached the end, the furrows on Kessler's brow had deepened to impressive crevices. With an angry sigh, he tossed the datapad to his desk. When he looked up at the junior officer, he was not remotely pleased to find a shit-eating grin fixed on the young man's face.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Craig." Kessler felt a headache taking hold – a dull ache at his temples. It was his bloody wife's fault for wanting kids in the first place. "You stupid little shit. You think it's easy for me to make charges like this disappear? I'm a split second away from washing my hands of you altogether."

The expression on his son's face faltered. The grin was soon gone, wiped in the interests of self-preservation. At that point, Kessler Junior was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

"The only reason you're not rotting in the brig is because this whole shitstorm would reflect just as badly on me. I can't afford any scandals. Not now. However, this is the last straw. Next time you're on your own, regardless of how much your mother loves you."

With the threat gone, the dread on Craig Kessler's face disappeared. It was replaced by the sulky petulance of youth. "You promised me another post after that Williams bitch had me shit-canned off the Normandy. Now there's talk that she's swanning around the galaxy under her own orders. She's making you look stupid, Dad."

Kessler fought against the anger that bubbled up at the mention of that name. Apparently now his humiliation went further than his own private reservations. If scuttlebutt said he couldn't control her it was only a matter of time until the Defence Council started asking questions. The woman was infinitely more trouble than she was worth. "You know full well I can't touch Captain Williams." Not yet at least. "Other junior officers would have killed for that Normandy posting and you threw it away-"

"I didn't do-"

"Shut up. I've already told you I don't care what you did or didn't do. Regardless of anyone's personal opinion, Ashley Williams is an outstanding marine. And you pissed her off within five minutes of arriving on board. I then gave you a simple job. All you had to do was work hard, keep your nose clean, and another post would follow. Unfortunately, you're allergic to hard work and you have difficulty taking no for an answer."

The smirk returned. "I like it when they play hard to get."

Kessler wasn't remotely amused. "Well next time find someone who is actually willing or you'll find yourself staring down the barrel of a dishonourable discharge and a prison sentence. Understood?"

"Yessir." The reply was swift and formal.

"Do what you're told for a couple of months and it'll be easier to set you up in a decent post, possibly even a promotion if you can make an effort."

"And the charges?" Craig enquired.

"They'll disappear. Thankfully I know the CO in question. He owes me a favour. I should think a transfer to one of the remoter colonies will solve the problem." Kessler felt sick at the sight of the smug grin on his son's face. Craig had the aptitude to rise through the ranks, but his attitude was born out of self-entitlement and arrogance. Kessler blamed his wife for spoiling the boy. "Now get out of my sight. And call your mother."

"Yessir. Thanks, Dad."

With his recalcitrant son gone, Kessler was left with a cold cup of coffee and a statement from a young marine Private sitting in front of him. He was going to have words with someone along the chain of command. If the woman had been told to shut up in the first place, the whole mess could have been avoided. As it was, Kessler could only hope that it went away swiftly and quietly. There were simply too many machinations on the horizon for him to be mired down with such petty concerns. Kessler half wondered if it ought to be his son that was being packed off to an Alliance backwater.

The door chimed. Kessler wasn't in the mood but he admitted his aide-de-camp. At least Captain Weston could make a decent cup of coffee.

"Was that your son I saw leaving, sir?" Weston commented. "A fine looking young man. Definitely in the mould of his father."

Kessler ignored the obsequious comment. "This better be good news, Weston," he demanded as he shoved the datapad out of sight. "I'm not in the mood for updates from Blackheath. I've already got a fucking headache."

"Not Blackheath. We've found Shepard."

Kessler's attention was immediately piqued. Definitely a better offering than a cup of coffee. "Shepard? It's about time. Where the hell is she?"

Weston handed him a datapad containing a report and a set of surveillance photos. "Ilium, sir. Nos Astra."

Kessler maintained his composure as he studied the images. They were grainy and partially blurred, obviously shot from a distance. They depicted a young woman who might have been Shepard standing on a balcony. Several of the images also showed an asari closely resembling Shepard's known associate, Liara T'Soni. Kessler wasn't about to get excited. "Hardly conclusive proof."

"That was my assessment too, sir, until I read the report. The agent collected DNA evidence. It's conclusively Shepard. There's no proof that it's T'Soni with her, but we can make the reasonable assumption that the asari won't be far from Shepard's side."

"Then why didn't our agent put a bullet through her forehead? I want her in a body bag, not a goddamn photo shoot."

"Sir, she is surrounded by a small army of mercs at all times. Not to mention it's Ilium. We have no jurisdiction to carry out an operation on the necessary scale."

"It doesn't require a complex operation, Weston. An idiot with a bloody big bomb would work just as well."

Kessler now had to admit that he was feeling surprisingly optimistic. After the debacle with his son, this news had improved his mood immensely. Shepard represented a major potential flaw in the Alliance's plans. Oh, David Anderson was no doubt still skulking around somewhere. However Anderson had little gravitas when it came to uniting the general populace. Had the man become Councillor he might have been more of a threat, but he was only ever an ex-Admiral. The rumours surrounding his dishonourable discharge were firmly rooted thanks to some very effective PR. Shepard was another matter altogether. Since she'd escaped, the bitch had caused Kessler a fair few sleepless nights spent wondering when she would emerge from the shadows. However, hero or not, the woman was still largely an enigma – seemingly relying both on luck and surrounding herself with exceptional talent to supplement the meagre skills she herself possessed. The whole coming back from the dead thing (twice) was something he didn't want to dwell on.

Kessler continued, "I'm authorising any and all means necessary to take her out. I don't care if we piss off local government. In fact, the bigger the spectacle, the better."

"Understood, sir. I'll put the necessary plans in motion."

"Oh, and Weston?"

"Sir?"

"Ensure that the body count includes T'Soni. That's one squid we can't afford to leave alive."


Omega, Sahrabarik

"So…the bishop moves like this-"

Myke tentatively keyed in a command on the interface. On the holographic board in front of her, a small figure made a diagonal move in response. Myke glanced up expectantly. On the opposite side of the board, a pleased grin spread across Sam Traynor's face.

"You've got it." Sam nodded enthusiastically.

Myke beamed in response. "And the rook is sort of the same, except it moves in a straight line."

"Precisely."

It then took Sam just a second to decide her next move, sliding a pawn through into an empty square. As with all the moves that had come before, Myke suspected Sam was deliberately trying to give her a chance.

Myke had already decided that chess was both the very worst and very best of games. For a start, there were too many stupid rules. Why couldn't all the pieces make the same move? With each turn, it seemed as though Sam had to explain some strange facet of the game.

And it was boring. Little holographic pieces shuffling across squares with no discernible goal. Sam had mentioned something about a 'checkmate.' However, unless it caused the pieces to explode, Myke doubted whether it would prove to be anything exciting. She studied the board, frowning as she contemplated her next move.

"Take your time."

Sam leant back and casually swept a hand through her short dark hair. Myke's heart palpitated in response.

Sam. The reason that chess was the best gave ever invented. The human woman's enthusiasm for the game was clearly demonstrated in everything she said, as well as her infinite supply of patience. From Sam's lips, the unfamiliar names of the pieces sounded like caresses. Myke hung on every word, obediently making moves according to Sam's instructions, earning smiles and laughter along the way.

With Sam being only the second human that Myke had spent any amount of time with, she naturally compared her new friend to Shepard. There was something about Shepard that radiated strength. Even when she was at rest, Shepard was a predator on the cusp of violence. It suited Shepard's personality that she spoke with carefully measured, deliberate words.

It was almost as though Sam was everything Shepard was not. The younger woman spoke a great deal and was quick to laugh. The strength that Sam conveyed wasn't that born of violence, but of resilience and calm. Then there were the physical differences. Myke found it next to impossible to decide who was more attractive. That line of questioning had lasted for all of a few moments, before she decided it was inappropriate to be thinking of her best friend as attractive. She had no such qualms about dwelling on Sam, whom she found fascinating.

Occasionally, throughout the game, Myke had observed flashes of melancholy flicker across the young woman's features. She knew Sam had a lot on her mind, so she made a point of paying attention in a way that she never did with Samara. It was hardly a chore. Myke had long since realised that she enjoyed paying attention to Sam. It also helped that the human's voice didn't drone like the justicar's.

If only chess wasn't so bloody boring. Despite her best efforts, Myke tried to stifle one yawn too many. She winced as Sam caught her with her mouth wide open.

"Myke…you'd tell me if you were bored, right?" Sam asked without a trace of irritation. "You can be honest."

"I'm not bored!" Myke was quick to reply. Still, she sensed an opportunity for an escape. "I'm a little hungry though."

Sam frowned good-humouredly. "You ate less than an hour ago. But if you want-"

"Oh, no I'm fine." Myke had entirely forgotten they'd shared a box of noodles. Well, 'shared' wasn't exactly the right word. She had eaten most of it while Sam had protested that she wasn't hungry.

"Why don't we call it quits on chess?" Sam suggested. "What do you usually do for fun on your days off?"

It was a simple enough question but the truth was that Myke didn't really have 'day's on.' She did occasionally do a little work for Shepard, but it wasn't as though she ever put in an eight-hour shift. "Well I hang around at Shepard's…we do stuff, sometimes it's work. Then there are my lessons with Samara. Plus I keep an eye on the docks, you know, the comings and goings. That's pretty important. Occasionally I jump on the bed-" Myke bit her lip to stop herself. "Oh, and I help out at a clinic in the slums-"

"Backtrack," Sam wasn't about to let her get away by glossing over Myke's admission. "What was that about jumping on the bed?"

Myke tried to respond casually. "You mean you don't?"

"Well…I don't really have a bed as such. It often feels like a cold slab with a couple of blankets. I guess the Navy doesn't want to encourage their sailors to stay in bed."

Myke nodded thoughtfully. She suddenly realised that her admission had actually been a stroke of genius. She found herself pondering the best way to ask whether Sam would like to try her bed. "Shepard once said I was the laziest sod she'd ever met. I figured that she really only knows military types so it's not fair for her to judge me to that standard."

"You've got a good point." Sam laughed.

"And the messiest, the biggest scrounge-" Myke had to cut herself short again. She hoped that Sam was still laughing with her as opposed to at her. "Shit, I'm not exactly selling myself as a friend am I?"

"I think you're sweet," Sam replied.

Sweet. The word rolled around in Myke's head. She thought of the connotations associated with the word and it was nothing along the lines of 'hot' or remotely swoon worthy. Fucking sweet. Like the pastries she liked to eat. Sam probably thought of her as 'that cute little asari kid.' Someone to hang out with, eat noodles, and generally just be friends.

Myke didn't know why she was surprised. She had offered to be Sam's friend. Anything else would have been presumptuous. A witty remark could have upped the ante, but Myke couldn't think of anything that wasn't a petulant rebuttal.

To make matters worse, Sam chose that moment to glance at the time. "Shit, I didn't realise how long we'd been playing. I need to move or I'll be late for my duty shift."

"You could always call in sick?"

Another laugh. Clearly Sam thought she was joking. Myke was simply having trouble comprehending a job where you actually had to show up at a certain time. Sam rose to her feet and she reluctantly followed suit.

"Thanks for humouring me. I haven't had anyone to play against in a while."

Myke smiled. She wasn't sure she would call it 'playing' exactly. Certainly not for Sam. They paused in the doorway. Myke instinctively knew that this was a point at which she could sweep Sam off her feet and plant a kiss on her. At least, that was what they always did that in the vids. Instead Myke panicked.

"Bye!" The word slipped out so hurriedly it was almost as though Myke was shouting at Sam.

Sam smiled. Warm, friendly. "See you, Myke."

They both paused over the threshold. Myke caught a flicker of something in Sam's eyes and for a moment she wondered what would happen if she were to lean forward expectantly. The moment passed too quickly. Seconds later Sam was walking away.

Myke was left standing in the doorway feeling like a complete idiot. She turned to face the wall and leaned forward with a low groan.

"Stupid…stupid…stupid." She punctuated each 'stupid' by hitting her forehead on the wall.

She was left with only the holographic chess pieces for company and the realisation that this whole 'attraction thing' was a much more difficult game that she had originally anticipated. Apparently, things didn't just happen. You couldn't tell what the other person was thinking. Nor could they be expected to know that you thought they were more attractive than a double deluxe burger with all the trimmings.

Being a practically minded person, Myke turned her thoughts to finding a solution. A brainwave hit her almost immediately. It was obvious. A triumphant grin spread across her face. She would ask Shepard for advice.


On entering Liara's office, Ash did a double take. She felt as though she had left Shepard and Liara's nondescript apartment, transitioning into a clandestine military facility. The room was relatively small but it was crammed with a dizzying amount of tech shoehorned into every available space. There were no windows. No home comforts to speak of. Not even a chair. The sole nod to the fact that Liara was a person as opposed to a machine was the half-empty cup of tea resting on the back of the HI terminal. Liara swept this up quickly, as though she was embarrassed to admit to actually needing sustenance.

Ash was slightly overwhelmed by the array of screens. She'd heard rumours of the extent of the Shadow Broker network. What if she accidently hit the wrong button? "I should probably just use Normandy's QEC," she ventured uncertainly.

"I run my entire network from this room. My comms are as secure as you will find anywhere in the Galaxy," Liara explained patiently. "You wanted to be able to talk to Miranda freely? Here is your opportunity."

Ash glanced around nervously. She shrugged. "I just feel…uncomfortable. As though I'm intruding somewhere I'm not supposed to be."

Liara smiled kindly. "Just say thank you and tell me to go away." She paused, stared hard at Ashley for a few moments. Frowned. "My apologies, Ashley. I did not tell you that it would be a video feed. Your hair…"

"Shit, Liara. Now it crosses your mind?"

Ash ran her hands through her limp hair. It was still decidedly purple. With all that had happened over the past week, getting her natural hair colour back had seemed like a low priority. Now it detracted from the anticipation of being able to actually look at Miranda. The one concession she was able to make was rolling her shirt sleeves down to cover the tattoos on her arms.

"Perhaps she will not even notice," Liara suggested helpfully.

Ash instinctively arched an eyebrow in response. Liara winced in acknowledgement. After showing her the appropriate commands, Liara left without a further word. When the door closed, Ash was left alone in the dark with her own thoughts. Her fingers remained poised above the interface for some time. She knew she was wasting precious comm time with Miranda, but her guilt held her in its thrall. Now that she was poised on the brink, honesty didn't seem like the best approach. In fact, it was absolutely terrifying. The words that she had mulled over in her head deserted her and she was left with an emotional void.

Miranda was also guilty. She'd colluded with Shepard to conceal the truth.

Ash set her jaw into a stubborn, hard line as she initiated contact. Why the hell should she suffer over a damn kiss?

The subsequent wait was almost unbearable. Finally the communication connected. As the image focused, Ash felt nothing except a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. As Miranda's face came into view courtesy of Liara's tech, the hollow feeling was eroded by relief and a sudden, persistent desire. I can't lose her. The mantra was stuck in Ash's head. If I don't tell her about Kurin, she'll never know.

"Hey…" Miranda paused. Her mouth formed into a perfect 'o' of shock. "Ash…why is your hair purple?"

"I'm trying out a new look." Ash had a sudden impulse to roll up her shirt and display the obscene tattoo on her stomach merely to observe Miranda's reaction. "I didn't realise you would miss my dark, flowing locks."

There it was. The laugh. Ash's heart skipped a beat, several, at the sound.

"I actually don't care," Miranda admitted. "If you were here now, I'd still fuck you, purple hair and all."

Ash's cheeks grew warm. She wanted that. Desperately.

For lack of a better word, Miranda looked perfect. There were bags under her eyes and her braided hair looked as though it hadn't been washed in days, but she still looked perfect. Ash had to stop herself from reaching out to touch the screen. As the silence dragged on, Miranda's lip curved upward into a slight smile. Ash wanted to make her laugh again.

"It's nice to see you."

"Nice?" Miranda arched an eyebrow.

Ash knew she needed to do better. "Amazing, brilliant…wonderful." She was already running out of words. It wasn't a difficulty she would have faced if Miranda had been physically with her. She'd express everything with a kiss instead, or several, leading to nakedness and fucking. Only then would she be able to convey the extent of her feelings. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Miranda Lawson."

"And you look like crap."

There it was. It was spoken tenderly, but with blunt honesty. Ashley expected nothing less from the woman she loved.

"What the hell happened to you?"

The question hit Ash like a slap. Her eyes burned and suddenly she was fighting tears. Even as she stubbornly told herself not to start crying, the tears welled up regardless. Unable to let herself break down in front of Miranda, Ash was forced to turn her head as she scrubbed the moisture away with her fingers.

"Fuck." Ash was now angry with herself. There was no way she could conceal anything from Miranda. Not even something that could potentially destroy their relationship.

"Ashley?" Miranda's voice was laden with concern, tinged with clear frustration. "Talk to me."

Tears staunched, Ashley turned back to face Miranda. Her partner was leaning in towards the screen, so close her face seemed to fill it completely. Her usually flawless brow was deeply furrowed with worry.

"If you dare tell me that you're fine…" Miranda let the threat go unspoken.

Miranda drew back from the screen, only far enough to allow herself to press her fingers against it. Ash gave in and did the same. The cold display was a poor substitute for the warmth of a touch, but made Ash feel as though they were a little closer. Any anger that she had been holding onto was fast dissipating.

"The dog and pony show I told you about? It wasn't routine. It never was." She watched the play of emotions across Miranda's face, trying to ascertain how much information she could reveal without distressing her lover beyond reason. Ash decided to leave out the part where she almost drank herself to death. "We got the job done, but the Normandy was heavily damaged…and being chased by a fleet of very pissed off mercs."

"Mercs? Where the hell are you now? Please tell me you're somewhere safe?"

"I am safe," Ash reassured her. "With some help from an old friend. Liara brought the Normandy to Omega."

"Omega…" Surprise tinged Miranda's voice, but at the same time Ash could practically see the thoughts behind those grey eyes of hers. It was clear that Miranda knew Shepard was on Omega. Miranda was now trying to gauge whether Ash knew.

"I know, M. I know about Shepard." Ash offered quietly, without a trace of anger. She was the guilty party, undeserving of any right to resentment. She refused to drag out the conversation. She'd already wasted enough time. "And I understand why you couldn't tell me anything. You were trying to protect her."

In an uncharacteristic gesture, Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, struggling with tears of her own. "I'm sorry, Ash. I know how much Shepard meant…means to you. I had to respect her decision to tell as few people as possible. You have to-"

"Please stop apologising." Ash cut Miranda off gently. "I was angry at first, and I did blame you…but that's finished."

"Thank you." Miranda sounded relieved. "I thought perhaps you wouldn't be able to forgive me."

"No, Miranda," Ash whispered. "Of course not…"

As Ash was unable to finish her sentence, silence descended again for a few moments. Miranda appeared unconcerned, staring at Ash with an uncharacteristically wistful expression on her face. It was odd, but exceptionally endearing. Ash lost her train of thought, instead wondering whether Miranda would ever wear that expression again in her presence. You need to get this over with, Ash reminded herself. Stop fooling her into thinking you're some sort of saint.

"There's, um, something I need to talk to you-"

"Is it a conversation we can save for another time?" Lost in her own thoughts, Miranda missed the stricken expression on Ashley's face. "This is the first opportunity I've had to talk to you in weeks…to see you in months."

The suggestive smile forming on Miranda's face made it difficult for Ash to continue with any sort of serious conversation. Her mouth was dry. "We can talk about anything you want."

"I hope this doesn't come out wrong…but I don't want to talk, Ash," Miranda said in a breathy voice. "I think about you constantly. You're in my thoughts every bloody day…at night in my dreams. I want you, or at least as much of you as I can have like this. I know it might seem crude, but would you…do you want that?"

Ashley's eyes widened. "Fuck…"

They stared at each other, trying to gauge their respective reactions. Miranda was pleading with her eyes. Ash moistened her lips, and lost herself in a moment of imagining the possibilities, picturing Miranda reaching inside her uniform, getting herself off whilst draped over the console. Her own body would respond in tandem. As long as she didn't leave sweaty palm prints on the console surface. Even if she did, surely Liara would understand.

"I've got time…within reason," Miranda continued. "Maybe fifteen minutes. Ash?"

Ash hated to see her lover plead for anything. Especially not a request that ought to have been so simple. And one that she herself wanted just as badly.

"Ash?"

"Yes." The hoarse whisper left Ash's lips like the last gasp of a dying man.

It should have been the best thing that had happened to her in months, instead the sight of Miranda dragging her t-shirt over her head almost brought Ash to tears. She wanted to be able to let her guilt go, even for the fifteen minutes that they had together, but it nagged away at the forefront of her mind like a migraine. Miranda's bra fell from her shoulders, only serving to remind Ash that she couldn't remove her own clothing. Naked from the waist up, her chest heaving slightly, Miranda looked like a goddess. Ash watched the hands that roamed across her lover's body, imagining they were her own. In response, her own hand fumbled urgently at her belt, dragging it free only just enough to be able to force her hand beneath her layers of clothes. It felt like an age since she had last brought herself to orgasm.

You gave into your urges last week with Kurin, or has the sight of Miranda's tits made you forget about that? Ash reminded herself. She stubbornly ignored her own thoughts as she found herself already slick with need. This would be over quickly. They both needed it.

"Fuck!" It took an immense effort for Ash to yank her hand out of her fatigues. "I can't do this.

Miranda barely paused. "Just watch."

"No, we can't do this!" Ash slammed her hand down in frustration with such force that even the haptic interface flickered in surprise. "Miranda, please stop."

The hand slamming down had clearly been enough. Miranda's cheeks were still flushed and she was breathing heavily, but her attention was fully focused.

"I'm sorry," Miranda offered in an apologetic tone. "I should have realised that you wouldn't be comfortable with this sort of thing."

"Comfortable?" Ash frowned in confusion. Everything was unfolding as though she was seeing it through a fog. Not to mention it was bloody hard to concentrate with Miranda still half-naked. It took her a moment to process. "No…I mean, yes! I'm comfortable with this. It's not about that. I wish it were. For fuck's sake, M, can you put your shirt back on?"

Miranda's response was to do nothing of the sort. She stood up straight, with one hand propped on her hip. Her stare was direct and challenging.

Ash couldn't maintain eye contact. She closed her eyes for the moment. Everything was going so horribly wrong.

"What are you not telling me? What the bloody hell happened to you over the past few weeks?" Miranda demanded, not without some compassion. "The purple hair I can overlook, but this weird behaviour? Ash, just talk to me."

"My behaviour?" Ash asked indignantly. Anger was the only emotion she could manage. "I'm not the one concealing the fact that my best friend was alive from my partner!"

"Is that what this is about? Why did you bloody well say you were fine?" Miranda sighed. Without a further word, she disappeared from view. When she reappeared, she was in the process of tugging her t-shirt over her head. "I've already apologised," she continued in a tired voice. "What else do you want from me?"

Ash pressed a hand to her forehead. "Stop saying you're sorry. You don't get to be the martyr here." She drew in a breath. Took the plunge. "Something else happened on this op. Not something I intended…" Fuck. Everything sounded like a hollow excuse. It was her fault. Everything that happened between her and Kurin had been unavoidable. Ash reasoned that this was supposed to hurt like hell. "I was with someone else. I…kissed someone else."

It was out there. Ash desperately searched Miranda's face for any trace of a reaction. There was nothing to be found. It was as though Miranda's face was carved in stone save for her still bright red cheeks.

"You kissed someone else." A cold statement of fact.

"It was part of the mission at first…our cover. And then…it wasn't."

"Did you fuck him?"

"Him?" Of course Miranda would assume that. Ash shook her head. "No." I wanted to though. She couldn't bring herself to go that far in her admission. "I didn't fuck her, Miranda. I was lonely. I missed you."

Miranda bristled, but maintained her icy facade. "You were lonely? I'm stuck in the colonies and my only friend is a psychopathic ex-convict who once threatened to smear me across the walls of the Normandy. None of that has forced me to find someone else to fuck."

"I didn't fuck her!" How vehement did she have to be? If Miranda could escalate this, then so could she. "It was a fucking mistake." A series of mistakes. Ash felt sick to her stomach. She couldn't maintain the anger. "Miranda, please. I'm sorry."

Silence followed. Ash wanted to rail against the unfairness of it all. It was one mistake between two people who otherwise loved each other enough to overcome their vast differences. Yet she couldn't think of any words that would help her case. The worst element of the whole fucked up situation was the relative lack of emotion from Miranda. Ash didn't know what she had expected – tears, anger…but something.

"I love you," Ash finished in a pathetic voice. Her teeth ground together. The whole damn thing was pathetic. She could terminate the conversation. End everything that simply. Spare herself the pain of trying to find forgiveness.

"I know you do," Miranda replied softly.

There was a noticeable catch to her lover's voice, and Ash realised that the stony silence had been a front. Miranda was struggling to hold herself together.

"Why did you even tell me?"

"I couldn't lie to you. Not about something like this."

Miranda sighed. "Regardless of everything, I am truthfully sorry about Shepard. I know how much she means to you."

"Are we going to be alright?" Ash dared herself to ask.

The mask slipped altogether. Miranda looked stricken. "Don't ask me that. You know I still want this as much as you do. I just don't know. I need…" She folded her arms across her chest, obviously embarrassed at how little her t-shirt concealed. "I need to go. Take care of yourself."

Ash laughed. "Yeah. Since I'm so damn good at that."

The image onscreen suddenly vanished as Miranda terminated the call. Ash was devastated, but relieved at the same time. She knew she would not have been able to do it. She remained standing at the console for several minutes, letting the mantle of guilt settle firmly on her shoulders. Uncomfortably aware that, despite everything, she was still aroused. A lingering scent filled the air, faintly reminding her of the days in the immediate aftermath of the war when it felt as though they had all the time in the world. She took a few moments longer to fix her uniform before exiting the room. An awkward, scant conversation with Liara followed downstairs. Ash then made her escape, grateful that Shepard had not been present to drag the truth out of her.

Somehow she managed to make her way back to the Normandy. Once on board, she wanted nothing other than a scalding hot shower. A drink was out of the question. EDI would inform Chakwas and she'd be relieved of command. Ash tightened her jaw. Being without an occupation was unthinkable. Keeping herself busy was the only way she could function.

They just needed more time. Wasn't time supposed to be the great healer? Ash knew Miranda too well for that bullshit. Forgiveness would only come if Miranda wanted it to. Remembering the stricken expression on her lover's face, Ash doubted whether the pain was worth it.

Upon returning to the Normandy, Ash found the CIC blissfully empty save for the current watch. Her first instinct had been to head for a shower, but she couldn't face that level of inactivity. Ash changed her mind and decided to head for the shuttle bay. There were always rifles that needed cleaning. The smell. The repetition. Cortez's preference for silence. It was exactly what Ash needed. The elevator door opened. In an episode of comically terrible timing, Ash came face to face with the last individual she wanted to see. Ash's jaw clenched so tightly it felt as though her teeth would shatter.

"Williams-"

Kurin barely had the chance to utter her name before Ash seized the front of her uniform. The asari uttered a sharp cry as Ash slammed her up against the internal wall of the elevator. Blood pounded between Ash's ears as she pinned Kurin hard. A wave of dark energy would have easily dislodged her, but Kurin was stunned and unresponsive beneath Ash's fury.

"Do you want to kiss me or hit me?" Kurin finally found her voice.

Ash blinked. She realised her nails were digging into the palm of her right hand. Sickened with herself, she released her grip. Kurin slumped, but didn't move. Ash turned away, clenched fists resting by her sides as she tried to think of something other than the pleasure of hearing the crack of knuckle on jaw.

"What the hell was that?" The initial shock had passed. Now Kurin was angry. "Clearly that stuff about you wanting to be friends was utter garbage."

"It wasn't," Ash managed to reply. "I meant it when I said it."

"And now?" Kurin narrowed her eyes in realisation. "Let me guess, you told your girlfriend about us out of some bullshit desire to be honest and she ended the relationship? You kissed me, Williams. More than once in case you've forgotten. You wanted to escalate things much as I did."

"Yes, I did," Ash admitted with brutal honesty. "Which is why I don't want to see you again. I can't-"

"Well, Captain, it's your lucky day," Kurin interrupted harshly. "The Pserimos turned up an hour ago. I was on my way to find you and give you the good news, but clearly you don't give a fuck about the rest of your non-human command."

That comment hurt…but it was largely true. It had nothing to do with the fact that the crew of the Pserimos were asari. With everything – almost dying, Kurin, Shepard – the missing ship had barely crossed Ash's mind. "Are the crew safe?"

"Save for a few medbay cases, the girls are fine. The ship itself has seen better days. As soon as she's patched up, we'll be en route back to Thessia and you'll be rid of me for good. After all, we can't have the famous Captain Williams being distracted by her asari fling."

"This isn't how I wanted things to play out, Tasha," Ash replied. "I'm sorry."

The elevator doors opened and Kurin stepped out into the mess hall. "Saying sorry doesn't mean much, Williams. It's your actions that count." She turned back to face Ash with an unreadable expression. "You should've hit me…at least it would have made us both feel better."