A/N: So what was supposed to be the first section of a chapter became a chapter of its own. Ooops, looks like things are getting stretched out yet again.
It was a bit of a struggle, but eventually Shepard managed to get Miranda to visit Chakwas and make sure everything was in working order. She couldn't exactly blame the woman, it wasn't as if she had ever gracefully consented to strolling through the med bay doors for a checkup, but there was certainly more of a fight put up than was strictly necessary.
Miranda sat on the edge of one of the beds, clearly struggling to tolerate Chakwas' poking and prodding with a civil attitude. Shepard watched from the doorway with a grin and was frequently shot scowls and glares from over the shoulder of the good doctor for her audacity. She felt giddy, energized, anxious to see Miranda cleared and sent along her way.
Unfortunately for her, Chakwas, the intuitive woman she was, could clearly sense her patient's annoyance and had little doubt as to the source of the tension. "Did you also have a concern?" she shot back over her shoulder towards their commander.
"Uh, no," Shepard admitted sheepishly, sensing the clear dismissal in the medic's tone. She decided to obey the poorly disguised order to leave, but couldn't bring herself to depart without ensuring Miranda's future company. "We have a bit of downtime, so uh, whenever you're free you're welcome to come up and we can," Her eyes shifted awkwardly to Chakwas before returning to Miranda, "talk."
Miranda nodded curtly, not wanting to put up a fuss in front of a third party observer, biting back the fact that she didn't want to talk. Talking was probably last on her list of desires. It had been a long day, and she felt utterly drained. There was no appeal to be found for her in the idea of suffering through more confounding discussions.
And yet, she knew she would go. She wasn't exactly in the position to refuse. There was a very limited number of ways to avoid a person when one was living with them on a spaceship.
The elevator trip up to the captain's quarters was the slowest she had ever been forced to endure. The only benefit was that the journey allotted her plenty of time to go over all of the possible scenarios of how the coming interaction could play out. Miranda was preparing herself for every conceivable approach Shepard could take.
There was the potential for the commander to be frustratingly vague. Or perhaps, she might be ruthlessly blunt, although gentle assertions seemed to be more her style. Knowing Shepard, there would most likely be a lot of stuttering and backpedaling. She had already witnessed plenty of that.
No matter what happened, Miranda wanted to be prepared for it. There was no way she was going to allow herself to get emotional in front of Shepard, that just wasn't done. No, she wanted to be pensive, collected. She wanted to reclaim all of the traits Shepard had been stripping away from her of late.
The elevator came to a groaning halt, and opened into the short walkway that lead to Shepard's room. As she moved forward with sure, careful steps she tried to force all of the memories that threatened to consume her to the back of her mind. The last time she had been there, things had been decidedly different. Decidedly more enjoyable, at least.
It wouldn't do to dwell on those thoughts now, as they would only turn her bitter. She didn't want to walk away from this with any resentment.
"Hey," Shepard greeted her as soon as she stepped through the doorway, a veritable bundle of nervous energy. She stood in front of her bed, as though she had just leapt up off the mattress, and gazed up at Miranda in earnest. "How are you feeling?"
Immediately Miranda softened at the woman's sincerity. All of the pent up anger she had been trying desperately to avoid unintentionally unleashing had been deflated in a single question.
When had she gotten so soft?
"I'm fine," she replied gently.
"Good." Shepard stepped up the stairs, clearly growing more confident since Miranda hadn't shown her any animosity.
Miranda took a step back, halting the commander's approach. She didn't want to let her get too close. Couldn't let her.
"How was your conversation with Liara?" she blurted suddenly, reminding Shepard, and herself, of reality. Just because the asari wasn't on the ship, Shepard better not think she could get away with having her cake and eating it too. That wasn't the way Miranda operated.
Shepard smiled softly at the question. "I think it will take us awhile to heal," she answered honestly. "But for once it seems like things are going to be okay, you know? Now that she doesn't have to obsess over Feron, she seems lighter, she's laughing again." She crossed her arms, letting her smile grow as she absorbed the truth of the statement. "I'm glad we were able to help her. Maybe the Illusive Man is good for something after all."
Despite herself, Miranda smirked at the comment. If there was a way to take a shot at the Illusive Man, Shepard was sure to jump at the chance no matter the conversational topic. Oddly, it didn't bother her as much as it used to. "You mean besides reviving you?" she challenged lightheartedly.
Instead of playing along like Miranda had expected, Shepard's face softened. "That was you," she amended quietly. Again, she was moving forward. "Miranda-"
"Shepard, wait," Miranda interrupted. Before she was turned away, she wanted Shepard to understand what she was feeling, that their little whatever-it-was hadn't just been hollow and fleeting. That as stern as she might sometimes seem, she legitimately cared. "I just wanted to say thank you," she said quickly. "For everything. And I want you to know, I am genuinely grateful to count you as a friend."
Shepard blinked. She certainly hadn't been expecting that. "Well that makes what I was about to say way more awkward." She chuckled at her own comment before rubbing at the back of her neck in embarrassment.
Miranda's eyes widened as she caught onto Shepard's meaning, and instinctively there was another step back. She hadn't expected this, hadn't prepared. That morning, without question this was what she had wanted, this very moment to be playing out. But now that it had arrived, now that Shepard was actually standing before her, she found herself terrified.
The only thing she could manage was to lick her lips and in a very quiet voice mumble, "I'm not like Liara."
Shepard's face scrunched up in confusion, and then she was laughing. "Well that's good because you're two different people."
"I'm serious, Shepard," Miranda insisted with conviction, ignoring the shoddy attempt at humor. "I," her voice broke, "I can't be for you what she was." Suddenly, the floor was incredibly interesting.
"Miranda," Shepard returned softly as she watched the woman's gaze fall, "I told you how much I resent myself for that. What Liara was to me," she faltered, searching for the right expression. "It wasn't healthy. And it certainly wasn't fair to her. She knew that. I think that's why we were able to part ways so amicably."
Panic throbbed through her veins, pounding, beating, relentlessly flooding her every nerve. She had to stop Shepard from making so much sense. "Shepard, I think we both just need to take a step back from this." Her voice almost came out in a plea. She didn't know if she could do this so quickly. For what was happening to go from impossible to seemingly inevitable was overwhelming. "We really shouldn't-"
"Wait," Shepard interrupted her quickly, afraid of letting Miranda retreat. She knew her too well now, knew that the woman would hide herself away and avoid pursuing anything further. "Can we please just talk for real for a bit? Forget about all of the work stuff and end of the universe stress for two seconds. Tell me what you think, no rules or restrictions, just you."
"I can't," Miranda said again, gaze never leaving the floor.
"Why not?" Shepard pressed.
"Because I'm not like the rest of you," Miranda spat out quickly. "The camaraderie, the friendship, I don't do that, it's not me."
Shepard actually had the nerve to laugh at her. "What makes you think that?"
"Because," she groaned out, exasperated, "look, I'm not," her voice wavered, "I'm not used to this, Shepard." She gestured between them as she spoke. "I'm not really sure what it is and I feel like you have expectations." She risked a peek up at the woman to gauge her reaction. "Expectations that I won't be able to meet," she admitted quietly, "and I just-"
Shepard chuckled. "Expectations? Miranda, I don't want anything from you you're not willing to give. There's no pressure at all." She sobered up, wanting Miranda to know she was being completely serious. "If you want to turn around right now and walk out of here, it's fine. I won't bother you again."
Miranda offered her a pained look, struggling to understand her own impulses. "No," she replied in a nearly inaudible whisper, "I don't think that's what I want."
"Okay," Shepard responded, clearly amused, "well that's a start."
"We just can't-" Miranda tried again, attempting to remind herself of all the reasons she should take Shepard up on her offer of walking away.
"Stop saying that," Shepard chastised lightly. "Listen, if things just got a little too personal and confused and you feel like you made a mistake, that's fine. I'm never going to hold that against you." She took a deep breath, moving forward again to close the remaining distance between them. "But if it's more than that, then I just need you to know that I care about you, Miranda. I really do."
Miranda's heart clenched almost painfully, and she fought the urge to escape. "How?" she breathed out, truly bewildered. None of this made any sense, how had they reached this point? This wasn't how it had been supposed to go. She had agreed to performing a scientific marvel, to perhaps sacrificing herself on a near impossible suicide mission. This though, this was nothing like what she had spent the last two years preparing for.
"What kind of question is that?" Shepard asked, tentatively reaching out for Miranda's hand.
"You don't know anything about me," Miranda replied in a weak attempt to scare her off, though she hardly pulled away from the touch.
"Of course I do," Shepard responded, tugging her closer. "You're brilliant, Miranda. And you care about people, or else you wouldn't have taken this assignment. You've dedicated yourself to protecting your sister, and to saving those less capable." She laughed suddenly. "Plus, you've been keeping me out of trouble, which I'm sure is a job and a half."
Miranda didn't share in her levity. "I've done things-"
"In the past," Shepard interrupted quickly. "We all have, yeah. I know you right now though, and I also know whenever I'm with you is time I enjoy." She caught Miranda's eye. "Can't that be enough? Just for right now. I'm not asking for any proclamations of love," she soothed the woman. "I promise. I enjoy your company, there's no pressure in that."
There was pressure though, a tremendous amount, because Shepard was Shepard. She cared about her friends and loved ones fiercely and wholly, there was no halfway. The way Shepard was looking at her, the depth of emotion in her eyes, it was apparent she was spouting nothing but lies to ease Miranda's nerves. There was such affection in her gaze, it was impossible to ignore. Despite her assertions, Shepard was well beyond simply enjoying Miranda's company, and the implications of that were stifling.
They had been dancing around one another for quite some time. Their little games of almost confessions and stolen kisses were exhilarating in their novelty. What happened when they moved forward though? When the excitement and mystery wore off for Shepard and she was left with nothing but Miranda, what would happen then? She had nothing to offer Shepard in the long run, that was the truth of it. The affection Shepard so clearly and openly held for her in that moment, could she stand watching that slowly fade?
That's what it came down to in the end. Shepard would hurt her, in some way, shape, or form. Intentional or otherwise.
And why not? Everyone else had. Her father. The Illusive Man.
Niket.
It wasn't a matter of if, it was a matter of when. That's why she had to pull away, to distance herself once more. She had to endure a small amount of suffering now, to save herself from the unavoidable heartbreak of the future.
She resolutely decided in that moment to back away for good.
And then, just as quickly, she realized she couldn't.
Shepard shattered her resolve to leave instantly, simply by giving Miranda's hand a gentle squeeze.
"Miranda, not too long ago, you told me that if I forced your hand, you would take me out without hesitation. What about now, would you be able to?"
Miranda licked her lips in her apprehension. "No," she admitted quickly, as she did not want to dwell on the thought, looking ashamed at the idea of ignoring her duty. When had Cerberus become so secondary in her life? When had it turned into an afterthought?
"And I trust you when you say that," Shepard replied. "Do you trust me?"
Do you trust me not to hurt you? Those were the real words she was asking, as if Shepard had been able to read her thoughts and witness her doubts. And Miranda was stuck at that, because despite the protests of her mind, the evidence of her past, there was only one answer she could ever offer.
"Of course."
Shepard beamed at her, and leaned towards the other woman. "Then it looks like we don't have a problem," she breathed into her, pressing their lips together gently at first, but quickly working to show Miranda just how much she meant the words she had said.
That was all it took to break Miranda. She melted into Shepard's kiss, her hands flying up quickly to the sides of the woman's face, locking her in place. She needed this, the heat between them, the fire that had been ignited within the pit of her stomach. Miranda couldn't afford to lose those things again.
And then she did.
She watched Shepard curiously as the woman pulled away, immensely confused. Her heart dropped for a moment, as she entertained the possibility of Shepard having second thoughts. All fears were quickly swept away however as Shepard offered a wink. "How about we take care of those cameras before anything else happens this time?"
Fears dampened, she blinked, wanting to dish out a little payback for the torment she had endured all afternoon. "Wow, Commander. That's rather forward of you." She kept her voice solemn, even, as though she had been scandalized by Shepard's assumption.
The desired effect was clearly achieved as Shepard's eyes widened in alarm. "Wait, I didn't mean," she stuttered out nervously, "I just…" Miranda's smirk interrupted her frantic backpedaling. "And, you're just being a jerk."
Laughing, Miranda nodded and pitched forward to steal a quick kiss before turning to make for the terminal on the desk. Shepard was behind her every step of the way, sticking distractingly close all the while.
As soon as she reached her destination, Miranda leaned over the desk, setting about her task. Shepard's arms snaked around her waist as the woman peered over her shoulder at the screen. "Don't you dare open any messages," she warned quietly.
Miranda smirked. "Don't be so impatient, Commander." A pouty sigh sounded in her ear in response, the warm breath tickling her skin leading her to shiver. "I just need to, um, find the point before I, uh, came in." Words were becoming difficult as Shepard's lips found her neck. "Then I can, uh, overlap it with…the footage of you…working. Put myself back downstairs."
Frustrated with the distraction, she halfheartedly tried to wriggle free of the grasp, but Shepard kept a firm hold on her. "That's an awful lot of trouble to go through." She was silent for a moment as Miranda carried on with her work. Eventually she pulled one hand away from Miranda to point at the terminal. "If you fiddle around with this over here wouldn't that knock out the whole system?"
"Mmm," Miranda hummed in the affirmative absentmindedly, too focused on the fine art of rushing through her task as much as she was humanly able while still performing efficiently.
Shepard watched her work for a moment longer before reaching forward suddenly to cut out all of the feed in her cabin and then returned her arm around Miranda's waist possessively once more, a pleased and somewhat smug expression gracing her features.
Miranda turned in her embrace, wearing a warning look. "Shepard," she sighed out. "We can't just-"
"What?" Shepard cut in innocently. "Ships experience technical difficulties all of the time."
Despite herself, Miranda felt her lips quirk up in a soft smile. "Not ships this expensive."
"Details," Shepard replied with a shrug. "Miranda," she continued more seriously, "I'm not looking for you to cover anything up. I don't care if he knows, I just don't want that asshole watching. We don't have anything to hide." She flashed her companion a curious look. "Do we?"
Miranda bit her lower lip anxiously. "Well I doubt this sort of behavior would be encouraged," she replied quietly, leaving out her real concerns. The fear of being taken away, ordered on another assignment because she had become too emotionally involved in her current one, was always lingering in the back of her mind.
"Do you even care?" Shepard questioned, genuinely curious.
Funny, she hadn't thought about that, what her personal feelings on the subject were. The Illusive Man could certainly order her away on another assignment, but he wasn't physically present. What could he do if she refused, fire her? She was on one of the most advanced vessels in space and bunking with some of the most powerful people in the galaxy. Shepard clearly wanted her to remain there. What harm could possibly befall her?
Miranda slid her arms up to wrap around the back of Shepard's neck, a faint smile on her lips. Yet another new experience to add to her already overwhelming emotions, the sensation of safety. For the first time, she really felt safe.
When Miranda didn't seem like she was about to answer anytime soon, Shepard took the initiative herself, "It doesn't matter anyway, you know. You're doing your boss a service." Her eyebrows bounced up and down foolishly, while she stood grinning like an idiot. "Your job is to placate the asset by any means necessary." She leaned forward to rest her forehead against Miranda's gently. "I can think of a few ways in which Cerberus might earn my unwavering loyalty."
"What kind of operative do you think I am?" Miranda managed in a scandalized tone before their lips met. Shepard immediately dragged her as close as possible, molding their every curve together seamlessly. Her breath hitched as she found herself backed against the desk and Shepard's hips took the opportunity to roll along her own in one smooth and tantalizingly slow motion.
It was real this time, there was nothing left to question. Shepard was proving to her now, with every touch, every movement, that she was there one hundred percent. No hesitations. No reservations.
Miranda all but whimpered when Shepard pulled her head back slightly, eyes dancing with humor. "So that's it right?"
"Hmm?" Miranda replied, dazed. She was far too distracted to be putting much stock in words.
"Cameras are gone?" Shepard elaborated.
Miranda tilted her head to the side curiously, growing more alert in her confusion. Shepard had deactivated them herself. "Yes."
"No bugs?" Shepard pressed, grinning.
"None," Miranda maintained.
"No urgent missions?" Shepard continued, hands beginning to wander deliciously down her backside.
Miranda smiled as she caught onto the game. "Nope."
"No crazy exs?"
"Well…."she trailed off slyly, playing at embarrassment.
"In the immediate vicinity," Shepard clarified.
"Oh," Miranda drawled. "None that I know of."
Shepard looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think we're going to have a conversation about that later."
"Probably for the best," Miranda agreed teasingly before pulling away gently, sliding out of Shepard's grip and leading her by the hand towards the bed in the lower area of the cabin. Shepard followed without hesitation.
It was a mesmerizing sight she was met with as she lay on the mattress, tugging Shepard over her and witnessing the playful mirth in the woman's eyes slowly dissolve and reform into unreserved desire. Miranda couldn't stop the shudder that ran through her, knowing she was the sole cause for the almost unnerving intensity of that gaze.
There was so much of the usual lust she found staring into the eyes of a partner, but it was buried, submerged, drowning in passion and reverence. Those were things she had never discovered before, had never seen so openly directed at her. It was almost unsettling, being faced with the very emotions she had spent so long hiding from. Closing her eyes as Shepard pressed their lips together once more came as a relief, an escape.
She wasn't quite ready to face those feelings head on. For now, she would live in the moment, unburdened from the worry of what the future might bring. Being there, belonging to Shepard even if for only one night, was more than enough.
Miranda gave an exaggerated exhale filled with frustration as she turned over her next move in her mind. If she stayed as she was, tucked securely into Shepard's side, she was sure to drift off to sleep. The crew was gossiping enough already without her stumbling out of the elevator in the morning.
"I should probably get downstairs," she concluded aloud with another sigh. The arms wrapped around her tightened immediately in response.
"No," Shepard said a bit too quickly, and judging by the amused smile playing along Miranda's lips, a bit too earnestly as well. "I mean, if you want to, sure. But," she trailed off suddenly, flushing at what she had almost admitted aloud.
"What?" Miranda pressed, lifting her head to get a better look at the woman, curiosity peaked.
"Nothing," Shepard replied adamantly, clearing her throat to reclaim a bit of dignity.
Miranda wasn't having it however. "Tell me." It wasn't a request.
Shepard chuckled at her demand, relishing in the act that was so very Miranda. She was reluctant to confess her feelings, sure, but she knew Miranda wasn't one to let things slide easily. With a heavy sigh, she gave in. "Last time you stayed, I," she paused, hesitant to face the ridicule that was sure to follow her admission. "It was the first night that I've been back and didn't have the dream."
There was silence for a time, and when she finally summoned the courage to meet Miranda's eye she found the woman biting back a smile. "Shepard," she said gently, failing at hiding the amusement in her voice, "I think that's because you were tremendously high. Obviously I can't speak from experience, but maybe that offered you a dreamless sleep."
"Perhaps," Shepard allowed, though her expression hinted that she remained unconvinced. "Or maybe, it was your loving and healing presence," she tried hopefully. Miranda rolled her eyes and offered a mock scowl but it hardly deterred Shepard. "We can't be sure until we run the experiment again."
She raised an eyebrow. "We must change the variables and retest the situation, I believe. If Miranda stays in the bed, then Shepard will be happy. There, I have hypo'd the sis." She took a minute to ponder the idea. "Now we need a control thingy and a couple of beakers and we're good to go."
Miranda bit her lip, fighting the broad grin that threatened to overtake her face. "Are you trying to entice me by using your own invented and incredibly inaccurate version of the scientific method?"
Shepard looked thoughtful for a moment. "Is it working?"
The grin won. "Maybe."
"Then yes," Shepard replied quickly. "I am indeed," she murmured before ducking her head down to steal a quick kiss.
And so Miranda stayed throughout the night without giving the matter a second thought. After all, it was for science.
A/N: Finally