A/N: This chapter is so late it's scary! Ahaha..haha..ha…ha… *clears throat*

Sorry.

Hope you had a happy Halloween, kids.

In all honesty, everything only got a whole heck of a lot worse after that. There had been that hour or so after they had seen Oriana off safely where they traversed Illium, and everything had been looking up. There had been camaraderie and laughter, but now Miranda didn't know what she was supposed to be feeling. That ended up being quite disheartening in itself. She had been told how to act and what to say and how to feel for years, now she was given just a bit of free reign and she was floundering.

That's not to say she wasn't sure about what she should do, it was just that everything was getting more than a little jumbled in her mind of late. It would have been easy to smother her embarrassment and move on with her life if Shepard had been to blame, if her commander had been shamelessly pursuing her without cause, but that wasn't the truth of it. Miranda had pushed them to that point on Illium, had wanted to move forward, to claim more. It had been denied to her though, snatched away at the last moment.

It had seemed like a positive thing at first, a reality check. Crisis averted. Disaster prevented. Sure, it had been more than a little mortifying, but it had all played out for the best. Right?

Except not right, because those feelings, the rush of emotions Shepard's touch had conjured wasn't abating like she so desperately needed it to. Days were passing and yet it lingered on, an echoing and rather unsubtle reminder of what almost was. Where was she supposed to go from there?

Shepard wasn't exactly avoiding her, Miranda was still being called upon for missions and tactical advice, but there was a definite shift between them. It wasn't the good sort of shift either, it was the downright frustrating sort.

They had rescued Tali together, had discovered the fate of Jacob's father and stood between Garrus and a target after reuniting Thane with his wayward son, and still they had never managed to really talk. Time was passing, and nothing of any real value was being said.

Most recently they had found themselves travelling through what was supposed to be a disabled Collector vessel. After the truth of the situation had been revealed, Miranda had waited to be turned on and thrown off the ship, but the anger at the Illusive Man's betrayal was never directed towards her. Shepard had never even questioned her in fact, despite Jack's rather vocal assertions, and Miranda unbelievably found herself almost annoyed by the thought. No matter how pleased she was to apparently hold Shepard's trust, she would never be okay with being blatantly ignored on a personal level.

Long gone were the days of quiet conversation and sharp banter uttered with practiced tongues. There was merely coexistence. Debriefings and orders. Professional requests and polite commands. Miranda found it nearly intolerable, and there were times she wanted to absolutely throttle the woman she had worked so hard to rebuild because Shepard had pulled away from the almost whatever-it-was that had happened on Illium. She was the one who had darted back to the safety of the ship and refused to address the matter.

That was fine, given space and time Miranda could learn to live with that. The longing looks Shepard sent her way however needed to stop. The lingering glances, the meaningful stares, they were completely unfair. She couldn't just look at Miranda like that, eyes absolutely brimming with warmth and esteem, and expect everything to go back to the way it was. It was just ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

It was on her way back from speaking with Joker that Kelly called her over. Shepard nodded her understanding as she was informed that Samara had requested her presence, immediately making her way to the elevator. As it travelled slowly down a floor her mind wandered to all of the thoughts that had been plaguing her consciousness of late.

Miranda threatened to consume her, and she was running out of things to busy herself with. Not long after recruiting Tali to the cause the Illusive Man had sent them into a virtual death trap without hesitation, which managed to keep her distracted for quite some time. She had shared some colorful words with him afterwards, and then she had to go about soothing the various members of her squad. Their faith had been shaken, and it took some careful wording to bring a few back around to the cause.

Lately, she had found herself playing fairy godmother, running errand after errand for her crew. Healing familial rifts, fulfilling vengeance schemes, and guiding those who needed it through puberty with an awkward hand and a big gun. You name it, it was a service Commander Shepard provided.

Not once did she ever complain, no matter how inconvenient the request. She loved her squad, they were her family and she would do anything for them. And it didn't hurt that every minute she spent trailing a politician or facing down a thresher maw was a minute she could keep her mind off what had almost happened, and how much she wanted it to happen again.

Things couldn't carry on like that forever though, Shepard knew. She was running out of diversions very quickly and Miranda wasn't exactly about to disappear anytime soon. They needed to speak with one another, and then Shepard needed to find a way to distance herself without causing too great a rift in their working relationship because the strange emotions she was feeling were one's she couldn't afford to entertain.

There seemed to be a lot to Miranda. Every time Shepard managed to stick a label on her, the woman merely shrugged it off by letting another personal detail slip. 'Cold' had softened to 'driven' which had morphed almost unbelievably into 'compassionate', although it was a trait she apparently liked to hide. She was doing her best for Shepard, for everyone on the Normandy, even if they couldn't all see it.

It felt a little crazy to Shepard, if she were honest, because Miranda was there for business. Technically they all were on some level, but Miranda had orders to follow. She was there to make sure Shepard made it from A to B successfully, to keep her in line when she was feeling rebellious, and to pull her ass out of the fire when she became a little too brazen.

There was a voice in the back of Shepard's mind whispering the obvious. Miranda was being kind because those were her instructions. She was supposed to be calming Shepard down, wooing her on Cerberus' behalf. It was obvious; there was never any doubt about that in Shepard's mind. The Illusive Man would have been stupid not to ask for some sort of bond to be formed.

And yet, Miranda had still earned Shepard's trust. For whatever reason, she had become the person Shepard wanted to confide in. It had been her door the commander always found herself barging through whenever she saw fit. It was her presence Shepard found solace in.

That was why Shepard had to pull away from whatever was happening. Already she could feel it. She wanted to hear what Miranda had to say, she wanted to tease and be ridiculed in return. She was getting attached, and if she wasn't careful things would get messy fast.

Shepard had to remember the plan, the way of things.

Alliance good.

Cerberus bad.

Collect team.

Help Liara.

Stop Collectors.

Kill Reapers.

Save the day.

Retire early with what better be a sizable pension.

Take up a frivolous hobby.

Die.

Boom.

Done.

Piece of Cake.

And to start things off, she had to cancel out any wayward thoughts. That's how Shepard found herself outside Miranda's cabin door, because while she was right there, there really was no excuse whatsoever to avoid the conversation any longer.

"We really need to talk," Shepard said immediately as she burst through the doors, hardly giving Miranda a moment to process her almost dramatic entrance. Instantaneously she found herself regretting her decision, wishing she had visited Samara and then turned in early. She could have ignored Miranda until the end of the mission and then they would have gone their separate ways. But no, of course she had to go and be all personable and talk through her feelings.

Maybe Jack was right, she really was turning into a pussy.

Miranda stood, moving around her desk to face Shepard properly, leaving no barriers between them. She offered no response, but her expression made it clear that Shepard's intrusion had earned her the woman's undivided attention.

Shepard took a deep breath, steadying herself. It was simple, really. She had only spent just about every evening since thinking about how this confrontation would go. All Shepard had to do was focus. Look Miranda in the eyes and apologize for acting so inappropriately after gently explaining her responsibility to Liara. Easy.

"Whatever this is, it needs to stop." She managed those words calmly enough, but found her resolve wavering now that she was actually face to face with Miranda. It had been infinitely easier to run the speech through her mind throughout the long hours of the night, and she really wished the woman had stayed seated as usual. Having a desk between them probably would have helped with the whole focusing thing.

Miranda obviously was not yet inclined to speak, and so Shepard was forced to continue without pause. "This isn't a real thing," she finally managed, gesturing between them. "It can't be because-" She faltered, running a hand through her hair in frustration at how difficult this was turning out to be. "You said before that I have responsibilities, and you were right. This is just like," she wavered for a moment, looking for the correct word, "a distraction. I mean you're…you know?"

For her part, Miranda was silent. She didn't know. In fact, she had no fucking clue.

Groaning, positively exasperated at her own incompetence, Shepard's words rushed out quickly like an uncontrollable flood, "I have a commitment and I have to remember what's real because you're," she faltered, loosing herself again. "You're Cerberus," she finally stated the obvious stupidly as if that explained everything, not quite sure why she did.

Again, she groaned, raising a hand to pinch at the bridge of her nose as she tried to regain her composure. Miranda had yet to say anything, had not challenged her in the slightest, and yet she was flailing around like a moron. "It's just, you're just like this big distraction that came swooping in and I can't…there's not…I mean, it doesn't make sense for me to…I mean we both know none of this is genuine," she spluttered, losing the words she didn't have her whole heart behind. "It's all just been a big mistake," she finally tried with finality, though she was aware her statement sounded suspiciously like a question.

Her heart dropped as she studied her companion's reaction. The bewildered look gracing Miranda's beautiful features, the hurt she could see there, it was making her once passionate speech waver. The intention to push away morphed into the desire to pull closer, and Shepard found she couldn't control herself from doing just that.

Miranda's eyes widened as she was suddenly tugged into a tight hug, she was beyond simple confusion at that point, but she didn't stop it from happening. "I'm sorry," Shepard whispered quietly into the skin of her neck as she held their bodies firmly together. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that, it's not true."

She had to swallow before she could speak, the intimacy of the hold leaving Miranda feeling more than a little out of her element. "It's fine," she managed eventually. "It's okay." Warmth rushed through her at the contact and once again, she found herself unable to resist temptation as she relaxed into the embrace. Suddenly feeling bold, she closed her eyes and burrowed her face into Shepard's neck, finding herself relishing in the opportunity that she would likely never have again. Though it hadn't been easy to follow the rambling it was clear Shepard had come down only to push her away. She was only hurting herself, but in the moment Miranda found she didn't exactly care.

Shepard stiffened immediately at the contact, seemingly remembering herself. A weird feeling stirred in the pit of Miranda's stomach at that, something she recognized but did not want to acknowledge. Shepard was obviously thinking about the asari, about how what they were doing was wrong, and as much as she hated it, Miranda knew she was experiencing the first stirrings of envy. Since the beginning she had felt a sort of protectiveness over Shepard, and now, with this newfound development, that feeling was only expanding. Shepard had been her responsibility,and then her friend, and now…

Losing herself to a sudden almost territorial urge, she pressed her lips to the exposed skin before her, savoring the shiver she earned in response.

"We can't do this," Shepard said softly, pulling back a bit to get a look at Miranda.

"I know," she replied honestly, though she refused to back off. It would be Shepard who stamped out this flame, not her.

And then Shepard was leaning forward, letting their foreheads bump together gently. "Miranda," she practically sighed out, the heat of her breath driving the woman in her arms nearly insane with impatience. It was going to happen, there was no doubt of that now, it was just a matter of Shepard forgetting her morals, her honor. She needed to give in. "I should go."

"Okay," Miranda responded easily, her lips quirking upward as Shepard's drew closer.

Their mouths met tentatively at first, moving gently, taking the exploration in slow measured steps, but then tongues were acquainted and any care was lost in the resulting explosion. They were frantic, needy, almost violent in their haste. It had been a slow burning fuse, Miranda realized then. One she hadn't wanted to admit to in the beginning, but it had always been there, steadily disintegrating day by day until this all consuming detonation.

Shepard's arms wandered her back, keeping her as close as she possibly could, reassuring Miranda that she wasn't alone, that these feelings were shared, a joint experience. They were nearly sloppy in their pace, teeth clashing almost painfully at times. It was a far cry from Miranda's smooth and calculated seductions of the past.

Her calves were hitting the edge of the bed before she even realized they had been making their way over. A flood of excitement coursed through her because this was new, it was electrifying. It was Shepard's weight hovering over her, pressing her gently into the mattress. Shepard's fingers tugging impatiently at the zipper of her uniform top, silently asking for more. This was Shepard, her commander, her project. They were breaking a dozen rules, they were women, by all rights given their loyalties they should be enemies. The thoughts exhilarated her. She didn't care about any of that. She didn't care about Cerberus or the Alliance. She didn't care if the crew realized something was going on between them. She didn't care about the Illusive Man sticking his nose into her business.

Shepard pulled her top open when it became clear Miranda was going to make no moves to resist, pausing to take the sight in for a few moments before recapturing the woman's lips with her own.

The Illusive Man could stick his nose into her business.

Miranda gasped into Shepard's mouth as she felt steady fingers dancing along the now exposed skin of her stomach, trailing fire in their wake.

The Illusive Man was sticking his nose into her business.

She pulled back, breathless. "The cameras," she managed at Shepard's curious expression, clearly winded. Her terminal, she had to get over to her desk and hack into the surveillance systems before things got out of hand.

"Cameras?" Shepard questioned quickly, eyes narrowed.

"You knew," Miranda asserted, confusion evident in her tone. "Mordin said-"

"Yeah, but in your cabin?" Shepard propped herself up on her elbows, effectively putting more distance between them.

"Of course." It was hard for Miranda to keep the frustration out of her voice. They were waiting too long, Shepard was being left with too much time to clear her head, she was starting to think clearly.

"Doesn't that bother you?" Shepard asked incredulously. She could never even imagine Miranda letting herself be observed like that for so long. The woman was so guarded, so private. Surely, she had at least put up a hell of a fight about it, unless the systems had been installed without her knowledge and she had discovered them on her own.

"No," Miranda answered quickly in a trained response. Then she hesitated for a moment, turning the truth over in her mind. "Maybe?" She rolled her eyes. "It was never a choice, it doesn't matter." They were losing it, Miranda could see it in Shepard's eyes. She was coming to her senses, guilt slowly seeping in. Her gaze was dull with the heavy weight of shame.

Shepard pulled back, shifting upright, kneeling on the bed. Resisting the urge to groan, Miranda brought her hands up to her face, letting everything sink in. They had been so close, but Shepard could never offer want Miranda wanted, it was over, it would never be happening again.

"Miranda, I'm sorry." Shepard ran a heavy hand through her hair. "I shouldn't have-" She shook her head, bewildered. "I didn't mean to-" She sighed and Miranda brought her hands down to pull at the sides of her top, reclaiming a bit of modesty. "I'm sorry." She was looking everywhere but at Miranda, clearly mortified at the thought of what she had let herself do. "That was really unfair to you."

Miranda leaned up on her elbows, offering a sympathetic smile. She had to be the bigger person, she had known where this would lead. Granted, she had expected to get just a bit more out of the experience, but she couldn't fault the other woman for her own indulgent fantasies being crushed."It's okay, Shepard," she said gently. "We've both been under a tremendous amount of stress. You don't have to be embarrassed about a physical thing." She shrugged, trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit. "It's not exactly the first time it's happened."

Finally, Shepard was looking at her again, an emotion Miranda couldn't fathom glowing fiercely in her eyes. Before she could react, Shepard was leaning over her once more, foreheads touching, noses brushing, breath mingling. "Is that what you think this is?" Shepard swallowed, squeezing hers eyes shut tightly. "Miranda, I-" She let out a humorless laugh. "How could you say that? You're so-"

"Please," Miranda whispered hoarsely, fighting to keep any sort of space between them she could as her heart began to pound. Whatever Shepard wanted to say she couldn't let her, she couldn't bear to hear it, not when it was already so obvious the woman had made her choice. "Please don't."

Shepard's eyes reopened and her gaze was searing, it made her skin flush and her mind beg for escape. It was too much, too fast. This wasn't real, couldn't be. These things didn't happen to her, she didn't have these feelings. It was wrong, a fleeting moment in the vast expanse of the universe, something that was ending before it really began. There was only pain down that road.

"Please don't say things you can't mean."

A dozen emotions flooded through Shepard, ones she had never experienced before, ones she had no name for. To have Miranda beneath her, beautiful, brilliant Miranda saying those words with such conviction, it was almost numbing. "My father hurt me," she had told Shepard not so long ago, "but he didn't break me."

And yet here she was, confusion overwhelming her features, pain etched into every word. She was lying there, half naked on the bed, so ready to believe in her physical beauty. The thing that man had given her, had forced upon her, that was what she had faith in. The things she had crafted herself, the person she had spent her lifetime creating, that didn't make sense to her. That wasn't what Shepard was after, it couldn't be. Miranda truly believed that, Shepard could see it in her eyes, and it made her heart positively ache.

"Miranda, you're-"

"Don't," she reiterated, letting her voice sour to ensure Shepard would be properly dissuaded. "Please don't."

Feeling the chill Miranda had intended, Shepard offered a curt nod. "I uh," she stumbled over her own words as she backed away once more, this time sliding off of the bed completely and onto her feet. "I should go." She let out a shaky laugh. "For real this time."

"Okay," Miranda repeated, though her face bore no smile this time around. She pulled herself up, sliding along the mattress to sit up and put some extra distance between them. The hot weight of embarrassment was starting to descend, and more than anything Miranda wanted Shepard to leave.

She seemed hesitant to depart however, and Miranda crossed her arms tightly around herself, unsure of how that made her feel. If Shepard really did care about her in any way shape or form she would leave before things got any worse.

No, Miranda corrected herself sullenly, she would be with her on the bed.

And then, suddenly, her brief moment of sulking turned to anger. Real anger, not the simple irritation she flirted with on most occasions. This anger was hot, fierce. She could taste it's bitterness on her tongue, hear it's ringing in her ears, and it was justifiable. Wasn't it?

Maybe she wasn't openly loving like the asari. Maybe she was guarded and cold at times. Maybe she was the poster child for an organization whose morality could only be described as ambiguous at best. Maybe when you stripped away the layers of professionalism and duty and troubled past there wasn't much left to discover, but she was trying wasn't she? It just wasn't fair because oh how she was trying.

Shepard had to see that, she just had to. Everything had been cold and isolating and infuriating and then there had been Shepard. A comrade, a friend. Someone to trust. A person to believe in again.

That didn't matter though, because Shepard had already inadvertently spelled out the truth for her. Miranda was damaged, tainted. She wasn't pure or innocent. The things that had pulled Shepard to Liara were the things Miranda never could be. She was bitter and distrustful and jaded, and Miranda knew with a horrible clarity that she was never going to be anyone's saving grace. There was no great healing light within her. She had to come to terms with the fact that she wasn't the things Shepard needed her to be.

"Well?" Miranda sighed out while offering Shepard a pointed look. If Shepard didn't leave soon she could not be held accountable for her actions. She wasn't exactly sure where they stood yet but she found herself unable to care. Space, that was what she needed. Space to work, and think, and get over this little bump in the road. She could do it, se had certainly overcome much more.

Smoothing out the rumpled top of her uniform with an unsteady hand, Shepard cleared her throat while wearing an almost sheepish expression. She had been lingering, not exactly sure what she was waiting for. Her mind and heart were at odds, warring within her. Shepard wasn't a cheat, that just wasn't how she operated. But then, the weird pull she felt towards Miranda, it was something she had never felt before, something she was loathe to deny.

Not to mention that beyond all of those feelings, she wasn't exactly keen to desert her friend. Miranda was clearly distraught, Shepard could practically hear the wheels turning in the woman's mind. It felt so wrong to be the cause of all of the trouble, all of the uncertainty, and then just scamper away without a backwards look. She didn't really have a choice though. Her decision had been made clear and it was obvious Miranda was eager for solitude. She had to respect that.

"Right," she finally managed. "Sorry. Samara was looking for me anyways, so I need to head over there anyhow." Taking a few steps backward towards the door, Shepard offered a hesitant smile. "We can, uh, talk later, if you want." She winced. "We don't have to though. I mean, it's up to you."

Miranda flushed, the last thing she wanted to do was sit down and have a heart to heart about the whole thing. Especially considering she still couldn't quite get a grasp on what exactly was going on. Still, she knew talking through issues was sort of Shepard's forte, current rambling session notwithstanding.

Unable to decide whether she would genuinely be up for the task or not, Miranda settled for being vague and noncommittal. "Fine."

Nodding, Shepard finally departed, and instantly Miranda was on her feet, readjusting her clothing as she made for her desk. There would be time for sorting herself out later. For now, there were systems to hack and footage that needed manipulating.

A/N: what a hot mess my ladies be. I do love my Shep but good god can she be a little shit sometimes.

So, next two chapters are done-ish. Just need to dot my 'I's and cross my 't's. Just wanted to warn you guys, they are straight up crack. I just felt really silly last night and rolled with it. I've always been rather childish at heart, so uh, don't expect any serious dramatic stuff from me…ever… just roll with it, and hopefully have a laugh or two.