A/N: A wee chapter for ya. My internet was on the fritz so we had to buy a new router and getting online was a pain in the butt. It's all sorted now though, so I'm back! Whoop.

Shepard entered the darkened room, surprised when Miranda was not working at her desk diligently as per usual, but in fact buried under a mound of blankets on her bed. Of course Miranda wouldn't be working, she reminded herself, she no longer had anyone to work for. That of course accounted for the burrowing.

The silence in the cabin was unsettling after the borderline unruly gathering she had just stealthily extracted herself from. She couldn't fault her crew for their boisterous festivities; after all, the ones who hadn't been involved in their mission had been narrowly rescued from certain death. They had a lot to be celebrating, and plenty of steam to blow off. Still, she had never been one for parties, wild or otherwise. She had always preferred the intimacy of engaging quietly with close friends.

When you spent your life dodging gunfire and leaping from one exploding building to another, it was the calm encounters you began to look forward to.

In any case, she had been keen to take the chance to slip away into the safety of Miranda's cabin when the opportunity presented itself, especially upon noticing the woman herself had disappeared.

"Are you pouting?" She asked, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice.

"No," the blanket mound replied huffily in what most definitely was a pout. "I'm sleeping."

Shepard sighed affectionately and made her way over to the bed, sliding in beside Miranda without waiting for permission. It hadn't taken her long to learn the rules of their new arrangement. In public, nothing had changed between them. Miranda still expected professionalism, there was always a respectable distance kept between them and any discussions were almost strictly business.

It was because she had conformed to those rules that she was allotted moments such as this. Behind closed doors, she was able to sidle up to Miranda as she was now. There was no flinching away, no reservations, no rules. Shepard was free in these moments to simply be with Miranda, to experience her.

Helping the innocent had always been her drive, her propulsion to continue fighting on no matter how difficult a challenge she had been presented with. But this added a whole new level of motivation into the mix. It lit a fire under her, influenced her every action. The faster the mission was completed, the faster she was free to return to the Normandy, to Miranda.

Sometimes she would make Miranda nervous, she knew. Sometimes she would string together just the right combination of words, or communicate just a bit too much in her caress, and make the woman draw back in fear, uncertain of how to handle the blatant expressions of affection. But that never deterred Shepard.

Only a few weeks had passed, but that didn't stop her from feeling what she was feeling, and she wasn't about to hold that back, not even for Miranda's sake. She wasn't about to let Miranda's apparent aversion to sentiment put distance between them. If the woman needed a mental push every now and then to remain confident with their new situation, then Shepard was more than happy to offer one.

After all, Miranda was inadvertently doing more for Shepard than she could possibly imagine, or even accept. Her presence was healing, even if only incrementally so.

Miranda had been right, it had most likely been the drugs that had kept her nightmares at bay, but that hardly diminished the importance of her company. Shepard knew enough not to inform the woman aloud, as Miranda was easy to embarrass when being confronted with such things, but sleeping beside her made all the difference.

It was easier to push the cold desolation aside after she woke up gasping in the dead of night when the woman who rested just an arm's length away could be pulled into a tight and reassuring embrace.

"If it's any consolation," Shepard offered, settling comfortably onto the mattress, "I think you did the right thing."

"Oh good," sounded a sarcastic mutter, "I'm going to fall into poverty and will eventually face starvation, but the moral high ground will be mine." There was silence from under the blankets as Shepard laughed in response, and then, quietly, "It wasn't like I was going to shoot you."

Shepard smiled knowingly at Miranda's continued reluctance to give herself any sort of credit. If there was a way to explain away a good deed, to offer a logical reason that didn't involve admitting to having a good character, it seemed Miranda would always take it. "Yeah," she allowed, "but you also didn't think keeping the base was the right decision."

There was an indifferent sniff. "Well, one would have to be a monster not to destroy it."

With a sigh, Shepard accepted defeat. Getting Miranda to accept any sort of personal praise beyond the physical prowess her father had paid for was a battle she was constantly fighting, and one she clearly wasn't going to win today. It also wasn't the reason she had sought Miranda out. She needed to stay focused.

Miranda had made a major move for herself, one that had appeared to have been spur of the moment, and one that she apparently wasn't taking too well now that all was said and done. Sure, Miranda's relationship with the Illusive Man had been more than a little strained as of late, but that hadn't made the final split any easier. She needed affirmation, reassurance.

"You know it's going to be fine right?" She said, gently tugging down the blanket so she could get a look at Miranda properly. "The Collectors are destroyed, Oriana is safe, and you're going to stay here with me. You don't need Cerberus anymore."

It wasn't that simple of course, but it wasn't Shepard's fault that she couldn't quite grasp the truth. It's not like it was something Miranda openly shared. Still, Cerberus wasn't just a job. She hadn't merely resigned. It was so much more.

Cerberus had been her break for freedom, her refuge, just as the Illusive Man Shepard felt so much disdain for had been her savior. Miranda had been so young when she fled her father, the organization had become more entwined with her life than it ever should have.

Miranda shook her head. She had been raised by a maniac, and then by terrorists. Her past wasn't with Cerberus, like Shepard so clearly believed. It was Cerberus. She had been modeled to be what everyone around her had desired, and now she was alone. Lost.

For the first time, she had to be a person all on her own. Nobody was going to dictate her actions anymore. Nobody was going to hand her a set of morals. It was beyond terrifying to think about. There was nothing to hide behind any longer.

All she had now were her own beliefs, her own thoughts and values.

A hand slid along her abdomen, easing her troubled mind with slow, gentle movements, and slowly she turned her head to take in the woman beside her.

Well, she supposed, and Shepard. Apparently, she had her now too.

Fighting a smile, Miranda mock glared over at her guest. "Who said I'm staying here?" she asked mischievously, wanting to lighten the conversation. She was scared, yes. Terrified even. But her unease would pass in time. All things did. For now, she wanted to relax, to celebrate. They had done the impossible, now wasn't the time for wallowing. It was the time to gather happiness from wherever she could. "I'm a free woman now."

Shepard's eyes narrowed playfully in response, though inwardly her heart was soaring at the teasing remark. She knew Miranda, knew it was the woman's way of letting her know she was okay, that her distress would pass. They could – would – move forward. Together.

"That's what you think," she replied easily. "I've just cut ties with our generous sponsor, stolen his ship, his crew," she shifted as she spoke, pushing herself up to slide over Miranda, straddling her and keeping her pinned effectively to the bed, "and his best operative. I've gone rogue, I'm a pirate." She wore a smug expression. "You wouldn't dare cross me."

"Or what?" Miranda challenged defiantly.

Shepard looked thoughtful for a moment, as though seriously considering her options. "I could sell you," she replied at last. "You'd probably get me like, what? Fifty credits?"

Miranda's mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

"Okay," Shepard sighed out. "Fifty five."

Holding back a laugh, Miranda tried her best to glare up at Shepard. "You know, I've rendered people unconscious for less than that," she warned. "You're lucky I've gotten rather fond of you."

A genuine smile spread across Shepard's face, filled with what looked to almost be gratitude. "I know," she replied honestly, all of the mocking edge long gone from her tone.

Flushing, Miranda glanced away quickly, wanting to escape the intensity of the gaze. She hated when Shepard did that, took all of their playful ridicule and turned it into so much more. She never knew how to handle it, how to respond. Something that seemed to only add to Shepard's delight. Apparently she just loved to watch Miranda squirm.

EDI's voice chiming over the intercom saved her from having to muster up a reply. "Commander, Admiral Hackett is attempting to send a call through to your personal cabin."

That was odd. She hadn't been contacted by the Alliance for months and now they suddenly wanted a meeting. Something big must be stirring.

Unless, maybe they had heard about her breaking away from Cerberus. That wouldn't make sense though. It had just happened. News of the split couldn't have traveled that fast, and even if it could have, she was sure The Illusive Man would do everything in his power to keep the information close to his chest. Something told her he was the type who didn't enjoy being embarrassed. A science project going rogue with the aid of some of his own employees would most likely be a thing kept hushed up for as long as possible.

Shepard sighed heavily, accepting that she would have no idea until the moment she went up to her cabin and heard whatever it was they had to say to her. "Thank you, EDI," she replied bitterly. Everyone really did seem to have the worst timing. She glanced down apologetically at Miranda, and found the woman biting her lip, clearly concerned. It was obvious by the expression she wore that her mind was travelling down the same path Shepard's had.

"Hey," Shepard soothed as she pulled away and slid off the mattress onto her feet, "don't get all paranoid on me."

Miranda sat up in bed, running a hand absently through her hair to straighten it out. She felt nervous, anxious. She didn't want Shepard to go, it didn't feel right. And yet, she had to. It wasn't as if she could dissuade the woman based on a feeling. "You can't blame me," she defended worriedly. "Since when does an admiral make personal vid calls?"

"Don't worry about it," Shepard said with a wink as she backed towards the door, "it's probably nothing."

She spun on her heels to make a swift retreat, but Miranda's voice haltered her progress. "Wait," she called out, waiting for Shepard to face her once more before continuing. "About before," she trailed off, clearly embarrassed. Clearing her throat, Miranda tried again. "Thank you. When th-"

"You're welcome," Shepard said quickly, cutting the woman off before making her suffer any longer. She didn't need clarification as to the event Miranda was referring to; unfortunately, the memory would be etched into her brain for years to come.

The sight of Miranda sliding out of view, rolling over the edge of the platform and almost out of reach, dangling precariously from Shepard's own grasp over a dark expanse of nothing, was a vision that was sure to fuel plenty of dreams in the nights to come. There was no need to dwell on it during her waking hours as well. Those were events best left forgotten, for sanity's sake.

If she had lost Miranda in that moment, Shepard wasn't quite sure what she would have done, but she was positive it wasn't something she'd like to find out.

"I'll be back in a bit," she promised, moving towards the door once more. "Just try and get some rest."

Shepard paced about the room, trying and failing to redirect her attention anywhere else but where it currently was. She had been trying her hardest not to focus on the fact that the four walls of her area of confinement were almost cruelly close together, but that quickly proved to be a mistake because when she wasn't focusing on how mad she was for being grounded in the miniscule room, she was focusing on how mad she was for being stripped away from her team. The Reapers were coming, having her under lock and key was a seriously idiotic move.

There was a loud thump in the ceiling, and Shepard paused mid step, glancing up to try and discover the source of the sound. There was nothing to find however, and she sighed, resuming her relentless pacing after a few moments.

Jane Shepard didn't do well with remaining inactive in small spaces. What if she went mad in this room?

Sure, despite the brass constantly dressing her down and dismissing her claims, the other personnel of the base seemed to respect her. A few would even visit her from time to time to offer polite conversation or a quick game of cards. It wasn't enough though. She needed her claims to be taken seriously. She needed to watch her fellow soldiers prepare.

Instead, she had been forced to sit through weeks and weeks of remaining stagnant in her little living area, kept in the dark about many things and apparently considered rather useless. She was starting to think coming here had been a mistake.

At first, she had been adamant about her confinement. It was her duty as a soldier to respect the chain of command, and from this base, she would be able to speak with the people in charge, the ones who could get the Alliance moving in the right direction before the Reapers launched their assault.

Now though, after spending all of her time being ridiculed and ignored, Shepard was starting to think coming here had done more harm than good. Anderson and Hackett were pulling for her, but even their influence apparently wasn't enough to have any real impact. She was useless here, getting soft as she waited for someone to heed her claims. It was pathetic, and she was getting the sneaking suspicion she wasn't going to be taken seriously until the Reapers actually touched down on Earth.

There was the thump again, and this time, Shepard leapt back quickly as a tile from the ceiling was removed and a figure dropped down into her room gracefully. At first, being weaponless, Shepard had tensed her body, ready for hand to hand combat. Quickly though, all of that tension dissolved.

"For such an important facility they are certainly rather lax about security, aren't they?" The woman's voice was condescending, sharp. She had never been all that fond of the Alliance. Being able to so easily slip past their defenses was a welcome ego boost.

Shepard's mouth fell open in surprise, though she quickly found all feelings of shock were overwhelmed with sheer delight. "Miranda?" she called out in disbelief, fighting the urge to close the distance between them. She knew her surprise guest was not the type for tearful reunions and the like, so she managed to reluctantly hold herself back out of respect. The weeks they had spent separated did make it extraordinarily difficult however. The nights certainly hadn't been easy.

Miranda put her hands on her hips, eyebrow raised. "Are there other women crawling through your vents to break you out that I should know about?"

Shepard ignored the jest, too overcome with a healthy mix of curiosity and bewilderment. "How did you-"

"I called in a few favors," Miranda interrupted mysteriously, dusting herself off with a disinterested look. The Alliance really needed to get someone up in those vents to do some maintenance.

"Wait a minute," Shepard said, raising her hands as something Miranda had said sunk in. "You said 'break out'?"

"Mmhmm," Miranda hummed in the affirmative, looking positively smug. She wished there would be a way to see the look on the face of whoever was the first to discover Shepard's empty room.

"Uh, Miranda?" Shepard started with a chuckle. "What happened to that long conversation we had where we discussed the whole 'doing what's right for the people of the universe' thing?" Shepard certainly hadn't forgotten it, as Miranda had been more than a little displeased with her decision and had made her disapproval known.

"Yeah, well, you were my superior back then," Miranda replied slyly. "I had to follow whatever mindless orders you gave."

Shepard sniffed, affronted. "Mindless?"

The other woman ignored her, carrying on as though there had been no interruption. "After thinking about it on my own for awhile however, I decided this would be a far better situation." She offered Shepard a pointed look, as if everything had been explained and sorted and there was no reason to carry on the discussion at all.

"You don't consider me to be your commander anymore?" Shepard returned with a mock pout.

Miranda raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing along the line of her lips. "I was under the impression you had been defrocked." Her playfulness quickly vanished though, and she was back to business. "We should get moving. I'm sure some nosy grunt will be poking their head in to check on you soon."

Shepard crossed her arms, fighting a grin. "Like you didn't memorize the schedule of everyone in here." Miranda offered a wry smile but said nothing, and Shepard sighed sadly.

"Miranda, you know as well as I do that we need to have the Alliance at our backs if we want to have any chance against the Reapers. Getting them to listen was hard enough when I was their poster child; it's only gotten worse since I took up with Cerberus."

"Yes," Miranda rolled her eyes, "and I'm sure they will be feeling absolutely betrayed and devastated by that up until the point they need a favor from you again."

Shepard chuckled, knowing there was more than a little truth to that. "Go easy on them, they're just scared."

"Well if their fear results in the demolition of the known universe I think I have at least a little right to pass judgment." Her eyes darted about the room. They were taking too much time. Every second she lingered was another second closer to being discovered. "Now are you coming or not? I'm not too keen to be caught here, probably wouldn't go over too well."

"I can't just leave," Shepard said, clearly conflicted. Nothing seemed more enticing than letting the likes of Miranda Lawson whisk her away, but she had responsibility to the people here, even if they were being completely unreasonable. "I need to stay here; I need to help them because we'll need their help later down the line."

Miranda scoffed. No way was she going to accept being sidelined in favor of some stuffy old men in suits. "Sure, but are they even letting you help right now or are you like a little pet they have locked away in a broom closet?"

Shepard's face hardened at the question, letting Miranda know her words had struck the nerve she had intended. "Trust me; they'll help you later no matter what because they'll need you to save them. The incompetent tend to be very forgiving." She smiled mischievously. "Plus, in all of my profound experience I've always found it's better to beg forgiveness than ask permission."

Shepard hesitated, obviously torn by heart and mind. It was so easy to blindly follow the other woman without question. Miranda had an unreasonably effective hold on her. Was it the right thing to do though? It wasn't like she was of any use here, what with everyone doing their best to ignore every shred of evidence she gave them, but Shepard had never disobeyed an order like this before. Stealing the Normandy out from under Udina's nose to immediately chase down Saren had been one thing, but this?

It was too confusing, she needed time to work it out. Time Miranda didn't have. "But-"

"Let me make this simple, Shepard," The woman sighed out, growing impatient after sensing Shepard's indecision. Miranda took a few steps closer, a deceivingly innocent look crossing her features.

"You can sit in this incredibly dingy room playing politics with stuffy old men for hours upon hours while they deny all of the work you've done, only accepting your story when the Reapers inevitably turn up on their disgustingly unprepared doorstep and they are forced to follow your lead or face total annihilation. Or," her hands trailed up Shepard's torso and she slid them forward until her arms dangled around the woman's shoulders, pulling their bodies tantalizingly close, "you can spend the coming months traveling the galaxy with me, warning civilians, securing alliances, dodging assassins, disemboweling mercenaries, and having obscene amounts of gratuitous sex."

James Vega enjoyed his time on Earth, despite the lack of shots being fired in his day to day life. He had heard many tales of the great Commander Shepard, and was keen to see the living legend in the flesh. In the few short weeks she had been there, they had struck up an easy friendship. Shepard was the open sort; she made you comfortable by proving she was comfortable with you in return. That was how he had gotten to know her so quickly, and that is also why he was far from surprised when he opened the door to her room that day.

Cell, she had corrected him once, not room.

He found a higher up as quickly as possible, though his heart may not have been totally in it. The man he relayed the information to stared at him blankly for a few seconds, clearly shocked. It was the first time a person who had so willingly and totally submitted to confinement had attempted to escape. Word travelled quickly through the ranks in hushed whispers and disbelieving tones.

Commander Shepard had gone rogue.