A/N

Re-upload. Written at the start of the year...or something.

Disclaimer: Mass Effect and characters belong to Bioware

"This is fucking boring."

Jack swung idly on her chair in the mess hall of the Normandy, bare arms dangling lifeless by her sides. The poker game had long since lost its appeal for the young biotic who was now growing impatient waiting for it to end.

"You only say that 'cause you're out," Joker said, his focussed eyes trained on his cards.

"No," she said churlishly, cocking her head to the side, "I say it because this is fucking boring. Can't we do something else?"

"There's some toilets that need cleaning," Miranda suggested haughtily, picking up a card and making the slightest of grimaces.

Jack paused mid-swing and narrowed her eyes at the raven haired woman. "Screw you, Cheerleader, do I look like a janitor to you?"

Miranda sat back in her seat and crossed her legs, finally lifting her eyes to appraise the woman opposite her. "Well, I could think of better descriptions..."

The Krogan grunted with disapproval. "Not this again."

"I hear ya, buddy," Joker sympathised with Grunt before turning to the females. "Do you two ever stop bitching?" he asked, glancing between them from under his baseball cap, before continuing in a pitch several octaves higher than was comfortable or suitable for the individuals he was attempting to imitate. "'You're such an ass, Miranda!' 'I know you are, but what am I?' 'You're an ass, I just said so!' 'How about if I kick you in your-'"

"You got a death wish, Chuckles?" Jack interjected, glaring at the pilot. "Just keep talkin'. Really. Go ahead." The biotic lifted her eyebrows in a silent challenge – a goading to which the worldly-wise officer knew he was not supposed to succumb.

"So uh, whose move is it, is it mine?" he asked, quickly returning his attention to the game as Jack resumed swinging on her chair, apparently satisfied by the fleeting look of fear that had flashed in Joker's eyes.

"The bitch knows I'd wipe the floor with her, anyway," she muttered, watching the Operative stare into her cards, her jaw tightening almost imperceptively, but just enough to encourage the convict's taunts. "See, she might have some fancy mods, but me? I don't need any of that crap. I got raw, natural potential." She watched the Informant's steely gaze begin to flicker with agitation. "I guess when it comes down to it," she continued with affected nonchalance, "I will always win because I didn't need my daddy to make me good."

"Alright!" Miranda finally snapped, slamming her palm on the table with so much force it shook the assorted glasses and tumbled Grunt's carefully constructed tower of chips. The Operative was now on her feet, a movement quickly mimicked my Jack, whose chair was flung back behind her unceremoniously. "Let's do this, right now!" Static blue energy crackled and enveloped the women as they snarled at one another, each adopting an attack stance, feet spread apart and leaning forward.

"Look, just everybody breathe!" Joker said evenly, rising to his feet slowly and almost forgetting to take his own advice. "This is stupid, you fight in here and all you're gonna do is tear out a bulkhead!" He suddenly realised that it was his voice that was telling the two enraged biotics that they were behaving like idiots and mentally began tallying how many bones a warp to his torso would break. Feeling two sets of eyes fix him with angry stares, he quickly followed with, "I have another way we can settle this. Just...quit it with the creepy glowy aura stuff."

For a moment, the occupants of the mess stood around like a mime performance, each afraid to flinch. Grunt had remained seated, and appeared relatively unmoved by the whole performance.

"Fine," Miranda finally spat, straightening herself but now glaring at Jack who followed suit and took a step back. "We're listening."

"This must be the most puerile resolution to conflict ever considered," Miranda muttered irritably, showing only the whites of her eyes as Joker hobbled back to the table both she and Jack were sitting at. How what seemed to be essentially a game of dares was to settle the differences between the two women was quite beyond her, but if nothing else, it would at least give her opportunity to prove to Jack just how much better she was than her.

"Yeah well, it's worth a shot," Joker retorted, standing at the head of the table and tossing a credit chip in the air. He caught it in his palm as gravity sucked it down and slapped it onto the back of his left hand. With the credit still covered by his hand he hunched his shoulders and leaned forward. "Oh, the suspense, it's killing me!" he said giddily.

"Get on with it, Joker," Miranda sniped, her tone laden with annoyance.

"Alright, alright," he replied, lifting his hand to reveal the credit. "Markers win, Jack goes first."

Miranda smirked, making boastful eyes at Jack. "Excellent. Here." The Operative slid a piece of paper across the countertop where it was snatched by a tattooed hand.

"Anything, anytime," the convict said nonchalantly, and lifting her chin with a smug look. Carefully, she unfolded the piece of paper and instantly, her expression darkened.

In a neat, cursive script so uncommon in the universe in the twenty-second century were the words:

'Wear Shepard's dress to the mess.'

Although the challenge sunk in relatively quickly, it took Jack a moment for her to articulate her thoughts.

"Fuck."

Jack was not afraid of many things. Life had taught her a plethora of lessons and most of them had been delivered the hard way. She had developed a thick skin to match her hardened attitude and very rarely did anything penetrate her barriers . So it had taken her a little longer than the average human to figure out that that churning feeling in her stomach and the weakness in her legs were symptoms of fear caused by the daunting challenge that lay before her.

The mess had seemed like as good a place as any to corner the Commander. The crew would be too busy filling their faces to notice their exchange and the Cerberus bitch would likely be holed up in her quarters, talking to Sugar Daddy or re-inflating her tits or whatever the hell it was she did in there. The convict was therefore dismayed to stride into the mess and find Miranda reclined gracefully on one of the seats around the dining table in deep conversation with Shepard.

Shit shit shit. The biotic made to turn and leave but she halted as her presence was made known by a loud Australian voice.

"Oh, hello Jack! My, we don't often find you up here!"

Jack turned slowly, ignoring the glances from the various members in the mess and forcing a wide grin. "Well, a girl's gotta eat, Cheerleader," she responded, sinking a great deal of effort into controlling her tone. "Although," she added, tilting her head and squinting over Miranda's body, "you might want to go easy on the ol' carbs."

As the Operative checked herself over as surreptitiously as she could, Shepard rose from her seat and made her way to the kitchen. Seizing the opportunity, the convict moved quickly to the Commander's side.

"So, uh, Shepard," Jack said awkwardly, thrusting her hands into her pants' pockets to hide the fact that she was fidgeting uncontrollably.

"Mhm?" the brunette replied as she ladled some brown slop into her bowl, her expression creasing into a grimace as she noted its viscosity by shaking the bowl this way then that.

Jack watched her inspect the culinary triumph and sidled a little closer. "Yeah uh...I got something I wanna ask you," she said, her voice lowered in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Do you know what the hell this stuff is?" the Commander asked, glancing at Jack then lifting the bowl to her nose and sniffing.

"What?" the convict blinked, a little off balance from the random inquiry.

"I thought it was porridge at first but it's too dark and definitely doesn't smell like it."

"Shepard, I haven't got a damn clue, listen-"

"I really need schedule a shore leave on the Citadel - pick up some of those provisions Gardner was talking about. I mean, this stuff is hazardous." The brunette shrugged and placed the bowl on her tray, sliding along to inspect a basket of wilted fruit.

"Yeah, great," Jack agreed absently before glancing over her shoulder anxiously and following the woman. "Listen, you know that dress?"

She felt her anxiety spike as Shepard paused and arched a brow at her. "The one Goto or whatever the hell her name is gave you," she clarified, undeterred, glancing askance at Miranda who had taken up prime position of the production, leaning against the bulkhead with folded arms.

"Yeah...?" the Commander drawled uncertainly, staring at the woman apprehensively.

"Well..." Jack looked again, only to find Miranda struggling to contain her snorts of laughter. She'd put heroic efforts into covering the wide rictus her mouth had stretched into, but the facade was somewhat transparent given her convulsing shoulders. Jack began to sweat. "Well..." she said again as she backed away, feeling herself panic under the confused stare of the Shepard and Miranda's strangled chuckling. "Well...you walk like you've pissed yourself when you wear it!" she blurted, before spinning abruptly and storming off, casting Miranda a cursory glare as she passed her.

Shepard turned with the biotic, watching her march off with brows knitted above the bridge of her nose. "What the hell was that all about?" the commander asked, throwing Miranda a bewildered stare.

The Operative shrugged and turned her back to the Commander, a large grin rebelling against her impassive countenance. "Beats me."

After a few hours of thumping the life out of her pillow, Jack had concluded that to actually ask Shepard for the dress would be far too embarrassing and also completely unnecessary. The Commander was undoubtedly a very perceptive woman on that battlefield when she was pumped with adrenaline, but the convict had noticed her attention to detail tended to slip a little whilst she was relaxed on the Normandy. It was a trait Jack had already exploited in order to get a hold of the Cerberus OSDs a little earlier than the Commander had intended. And so, armed with her new plan, Jack made her way up to the loft and buzzed Shepard's quarters.

"Jack?" the soldier asked, clearly confused by what the biotic was doing out of her hidey hole.

"Uh, hi Shepard," she replied, burying her hands in her pockets and rocking her weight onto her toes and back.

The two stood in awkward silence for a few seconds, the thrum of the engines below distantly calling.

"Do you...need something?" Shepard asked uncertainly.

"Yeah. I uh...wanted to..." she trailed off, finding bullshitting to Shepard a little harder than it used to be. "What I said earlier, I didn't mean to..." The biotic rubbed the back of her neck nervously, attempting to draw some inspiration from the floor tiling. "Shit. I wanted to-"

"Jack," Shepard interrupted with a smile. "Don't worry about it. I forgive you."

The convict smiled weakly as the Commander gestured for her to follow her into her cabin.

"I'll just be a sec, just freshening up," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the bathroom.

"No problem," the biotic replied, waiting for the door to hiss shut before her eyes started darting about the cabin for signs of the dress. Sliding open Shepard's wardrobe furtively, Jack began frantically rummaging through the clothes rack, growing more frustrated with each garment that failed to match what she was looking for..

"I was just talking with Zaeed earlier," she heard the Commander's voice carry over the running water. "Wants us to help him settle an old score with a merc leader. Figured you'd be interested."

Jack grabbed at a hanger and held it up to the light, only to thrust it back into the wardrobe in frustration. "Hell yeah," she called over her shoulder but focussing on her search. "You know me, Shepard, any excuse."

"Good. I'll brief you nearer the time then. Told Thane we'd help him out first. Listen, you're not going to like this, but I'm detailing both you and Miranda on this one."

Still engaged in rifling through Shepard's clothing, Jack had stopped really paying attention. "Oh yeah, great, can't wait."

The commander suddenly leaned out of the bathroom doorway, toothbrush hanging in her mouth; the movement was fortunately caught by Jack in her periphery vision and she accordingly slid shut the wardrobe and assumed a slouching posture against its door. "I thought you didn't get on with Miranda?" Shepard asked suspiciously, regarding the biotic through a puzzled frown.

"What? I don't! I mean, I do. I mean...I will. Y'know, for the mission." She gave a sheepish laugh and watched the commander raise her eyebrows and disappear back into the bathroom shaking her head. Once she was out of sight, Jack resumed her search. After another flurry of frantic rummaging, the convict found what she was looking for, and hurriedly secreted it down her pants before shutting the wardrobe again and bolting for the door.

"I'm glad you're managing to work through things with her, Jack. Y'know, when we picked you up, I wasn't sure you'd fit in with the team, but I can see that you're making the effort. Turning over a new leaf maybe, huh?" The Commander paused for a response, but received none. "Jack?"

Shepard frowned and walked out of the bathroom, glancing about herself only to find that she was now completely alone on her cabin.

Powering along the Crew Deck causeway, the biotic didn't even bother to attempt access to the womens' restrooms. They were always so full of scantily clad, giggling women whose bodily exposure rather ironically made her feel uncomfortable.

"Jack. The womens' restrooms are on the starboard side of the ship," EDI helpfully reminded her as she darted into the mens' restrooms.

"Screw you, Robocop!" the convict roared back, punching the lock on the door with the side of her fist.

"Logging you out, Jack."

She held the tight, black garment up in front of her, regarding it with a pained expression. She hated dresses. She hated skirts. So impractical, so stupid. This one didn't even have holsters for a gun! The stray question of where Shepard had concealed her weapon on Bekenstein quickly slid through the convict's mind before she shook her head and decided to bite the bullet. Standing in front of the mirror, Jack tugged the dress over head and shoulders before smoothing the soft leather down over her square hips and backside.

She frowned at her reflection, at the way the ill-fitting dress fell slack around her chest; at the way it hung awkwardly from her bony shoulders and somehow failed to hug her shallow curves the way it had on Shepard.

"God damn," she muttered to herself, before turning to the side and appraising herself. "I'm going to kill the Bitch for this."

"Oh, hey Ja-oh...my...god," Kasumi spluttered when she caught sight of Jack as she left the restrooms, her eyes sweeping the length of the biotic's form. Heavy thick boots adorned her feet, as usual, their shafts met by dark coloured trousers that disappeared, despite the thief's disbelief, under the black leather dress she had gifted to the Commander. Her eyes continued to drift upwards before they met with Jack's angry scowl.

"You look..." Kasumi began, watching the convict's eyes narrow considerably, "...nice. Real nice!" The thief smiled nervously.

Jack snorted. "Whatever," she said, shouldering past the petite form and stomping down the corridor in a most un-lady-like fashion.

"I'm tellin' you, that damn turian's messin' around has thrown off the previous calibrations. We're goan'tae have tae tweak the forward capacitors to readdress the balance." Donnelly shovelled another mouthful of stew into his mouth and began chewing noisily.

"I wasn't disagreeing with you, I was just-Kenneth, would you mind closing your mouth when you chew? I don't need to see your half-masticated dinner."

"My what? You're a dirty girl, Daniels. Dirty, but I like it."

"Ugh, you're a pig." Gabby despaired of Donnelly at times...normally when he was flirting outrageously with anything resembling a female. She watched him continue to smack his lips together with each chew and idly wondered if he was continuing with it just to annoy her. He did that sort of thing.

"Pigs are very clean animals you know," he proclaimed with his mouth half full and pointing his spoon at his fellow Engineer. "Unlike you, as we have already established."

"Keelah, you two are giving me a headache," Tali grumbled from a couple of seats down.

"I, too, am finding the direction this discourse has taken rather unpalatable," Thane agreed, inclining his head slightly in the engineers' direction.

Kenneth munched absently for a moment and shrugged before beginning anew. "You know I caught that crazy girl from engineering in the mens' showers the other day. Completely starkers! And let me tell you, what a sight it was. Made my day."

"Oh for the love of God, Kenneth!"

"Those tattoos don't stop at her waist you know! Ohhhh no, they go all the way down to her-"

"Will you shut your trap already?" Gabby yelled at him. "And stop making that...dog lapping up water noise. It's doing my head in!"

The engineer shrugged again and poked his food around in his bowl. Gabby turned to Thane and Tali, feeling a strange compulsion to apologise for her team mate's behaviour.

"Sorry. He's not always like this. Believe or not, he can be quite charming at times. Right, Kenneth?"

Gabby returned her attention to the engineer and was completely horrified to find him sitting there, gawping with an open mouth, full of food. Pieces of half-chewed meat tumbled from the void, landing with a splat on the table before him.

"Kenneth!" Gabby snapped angrily, repulsed by his childish antics. "That is not funny!"

"Nnngh," he stammered, eyes wide and fixed ahead.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" she asked in frustration, following his line of sight.

"Oh my God!" she gasped, clasping her hands over mouth.

By now, both Tali and Thane were frowning at the engineers' reactions and turned to find the source of the commotion.

"Keelah..."

"Ah."

There, illuminated under the harsh lighting of the mess, stood Jack, arms folded and wearing a dress that looked like it bore a grudge being draped across her frame.

"Gabby. I think I've just died and gone to heaven," Kenneth breathed, his power of speech having returned in the last few moments.

The convict scanned the immediate area and prowled around corners before finally turning abruptly and addressing the shocked crew members who were all still staring at her incredulously.

"Where the fuck is the Cheerleader?" she demanded to know, glaring at them each in turn.

"Uh, you mean Miranda?" Donnelly inquired stupidly.

"Here I am," the Operative said brightly from behind Jack, who quickly spun on her heel to face her.

Before Jack had the opportunity to open her mouth, Miranda levelled a camera at her and snapped a picture, the flash momentarily dazing the convict and forcing her to stumble backwards through heavy blinking.

The Operative grinned widely, inspecting the preview on the screen. "Perfect," she said, before shooting Jack a mischievous wink and bolting out of the mess.

"Bitch! Get back here!" the biotic roared, taking off after her and leaving the occupants of the mess to pick up their jaws from the floor.