Dear 'Someone'— I really could go into detail about my sexy-hot girlfriend, but you wouldn't believe me. But, I sincerely hope you don't have children either. Glad we could get that settled :P As for everyone else, would you like a lemon in this piece? It wouldn't be for a while, if at all, but I thought I'd ask. Thanks for reading!

Looking Back

Shepard had just stepped into her room and was preparing for a long shower. She kicked her heels off immediately and sighed as they made contact with the cold floor. She was certain she got a blister on her Achilles from all of the walking she did in those evil contraptions, but the chill of the floor was easing the pain a bit. The Commander basked in it for a moment, gently rocking back and forth from the balls of her feet to the heels like a cheap massage. While gaining Kasumi's loyalty was important, she hadn't expected a showdown with a gunship. But nevertheless, it had been defeated, and she was finally back in the comfort of her Normandy.

Her return was mostly due to Miranda's intervention. Had the sentinel not gotten on the comm, she probably would have been obliterated by a rocket. Shepard chuckled at the would-be look on the Illusive Man's face if he'd found out Shepard had been killed. It was almost worth dying a second time for…almost. Rolling her eyes and noting how tired they were, Shepard attempted to lower the zipper on her dress when the doors to her supposedly locked cabin swished open.

Shepard didn't have to turn around because right when she realized someone had entered her room, Miranda was standing in front of her, glaring intently. The Commander lowered her hands to her side and regarded the sentinel thoughtfully. She looked pissed, that was clear, but there was something else going on that the Commander couldn't quite place.

For a few moments, Miranda said nothing. She simply glared at Shepard, breathing heavily. Shepard knew that she was waiting for her to say something, but she had no idea what. After all, it was the sentinel that barged into her quarters. Surely she was more in control of the situation for that. Shepard licked her lips and her eyes darted around the room. She felt like a child about to be scolded and it was hard to look at Miranda.

But when she did manage a glance or two at her second in command, she could see the faintest of dark rings under her eyes. Her lips were possibly a little chapped, and her hair was slightly less than her normal perfection. Miranda still looked like a goddess incarnate, of course, but something was definitely wrong. She had to have been lacking in sleep severely if it was starting to show on her pristine body. Taking a chance, the Commander stepped forward. If Miranda noticed, she didn't show it, and Shepard dared a step more. She then reached out and placed her hand on Miranda's cheek, the pad of her thumb gently tracing the subtle black rings of the sentinel's eyes.

Miranda closed her eyes at the touch. It was soft and warm. It made her want to go to sleep and wake up with that same feeling upon her. Her body swayed a bit in its fatigue and another hand was placed on her waist, steadying her. She now felt as if she was dancing, Shepard's strong hands holding her close as they swayed against soft music that neither of them were really listening to.

"Miranda?" Shepard asked quietly; worry growing ever more prevalent in her bright green eyes. "Maybe you should sit down. You look exhausted."

Miranda's eyes shot open at that and she stepped back from the Commander's touch, ignoring the chill that replaced it. "No, Commander, there are some things we need to take care of first."

"But—

"Just shut up!" The sentinel shouted, causing Shepard to jump at the sudden screech in her voice. Miranda visibly calmed after that, her shoulders falling as she ran a hand through her hair. Shepard stood silently, waiting for whatever came next. Miranda then sighed and went over to Shepard's desk and opened her clenched palm. A tiny object fell out and Miranda stepped away, gesturing for Shepard to come over.

The Commander did so and looked down at what had been placed on her desk. Against her better will and judgment her stomach knotted up tightly. Extreme force of will kept the memories at bay for now, but she couldn't stop the pain that welled up inside of her. She'd seen too many of these forced into people's skulls on Mindoir. "What is this for?" she finally managed to say through gritted teeth.

"It's for you."

Shepard shot up immediately, her fist clenching tightly, only to be stopped by Miranda shaking her head. "I meant that it's yours now, to destroy however you want."

The Commander stopped then and looked at Miranda suspiciously. She looked too tired to be anything but forthcoming at the moment. Shepard then turned and looked back at the chip. It was small, the size of a thumb nail, and black. To anyone else it probably looked like a piece of trash. Shepard clenched her teeth along with her fist and brought her hand down upon the chip. Her hand stung a bit at the force, but she soon relaxed upon feeling the chip crumble beneath her force. She released her hand and flexed it a bit, the pieces stuck to her skin falling back onto the desk.

Shepard closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before she managed to turn and face Miranda. She was staring at the destroyed chip lazily, most likely unsurprised at Shepard's reaction. The Commander took a few steps closer and placed her hand on the sentinel's shoulder, ignoring the fact that Miranda tried to shake it off.

"Thank you," she said, barely above a whisper.

Miranda looked up, more awake now than she'd been on this entire visit, and stepped back angrily from the Commander. Shepard looked taken aback but moved no closer. "Thank you?" Miranda practically mocked as she ran her hands through her hair.

"Thank you…very much?" Shepard offered, realizing quickly that wasn't the correct response as Miranda looked even more aghast.

"What is wrong with you, Commander?"

"Other than the obvious?"

"This isn't the time for joking!" Miranda shouted again, flinging her arm angrily at the Commander, who didn't flinch, but did start to glare.

"Well, perhaps you'd like to elaborate then instead of just biting my head off."

Miranda swallowed hard and the two women had a stare down for a few minutes. Shepard could see Miranda struggling but her stubbornness appeared to be winning out at the moment and she wasn't sure if she'd get an answer tonight. So she calmed herself down, and took another step towards Miranda.

"Come on, Miranda. Let's just calm down and talk about this," she said, reaching an arm around her and rubbing her arm, pleasantly surprised that the sentinel wasn't fighting. Before she decided to speak anymore Shepard led Miranda over the bed, a much softer alternative than the sofa, and sat her on the end of it. Miranda appeared to visibly relax once she was off her feet and Shepard smiled at that, stroking her cheek again. It wasn't until she felt the wetness on her finger that she realized Miranda was crying.

"Miranda," she whispered seriously, "please talk to me."

Miranda rolled her eyes before wiping them and then shook her head to control herself. Then she turned to face the Commander, her pupils looking almost violet against her reddened eyes. "Why don't you hate me?" she asked so softly the Commander almost didn't catch it. However before Shepard could respond, Miranda continued.

"Why don't you doubt that that's the only control chip? Why aren't you yelling at me for making it in the first place? Why do you insist on being so…goddamn kind." Miranda then murmured an obscenity or two before looking down at the floor.

Shepard was silent for a few long, agonizing minutes after that. Truthfully, it was because she didn't have the answer at first thought. Miranda was right, given their past experiences together. She should be in a violent rage right now, or at least screaming or attempting to make Miranda feel as low as possible. But the thought made her a little sick to her stomach. She didn't think she could make Miranda feel any worse than the sentinel was feeling now, and she certainly had no want to try.

But that didn't excuse Miranda's actions. Making the control chip, going behind her back with Kelly, that damn haughty attitude that seemed to grind her nerves on every turn, were all legitimate reasons to piss the Commander off. Shepard closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She wasn't very good at lying, and no good would come from it now.

"I…you're right. I should be furious with you," she began slowly, watching as Miranda turned to look at her once more. "I should want to make you feel horrible, possibly even hurt you in those rages I often get. But I don't want to. I don't think I could."

"Why not?"

"Because I care about you, Miranda." Shepard placed a hand on the sentinel's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "You're a good person, and you've become a good friend."

"But I haven't earned that!"

"That's not your decision to make."

"Commander, the only thing I've done is persecute all that you stand for and all that haunts you. I shouldn't even be your second in command anymore."

"Why are you so hard on yourself?" the Commander asked, her voice desperate for an answer. "Why does someone like you feel this way?"

Miranda grimaced at the question and laced her fingers together. "The only thing I can ever claim as my own doing are my failures…my mistakes."

"That's ridiculous."

"No it isn't!" Miranda stood, glaring angrily down at the Commander. "You don't know a damn thing about me!"

"Then enlighten me!" the Commander shot up, their faces mere centimeters apart now. Miranda tried desperately not to lose herself in those beautiful green eyes but despite her better judgment, her will was fading. Closing her eyes in defeat, she heard the sound of Shepard sitting back down on the bed. Not wanting to be that close to her again yet, Miranda stayed standing, pondering the wording of what she was about to say.

"Commander, I wasn't 'born' like you or most humans were. I was created, in a lab, not unlike the way you were born again. My father, a very wealthy, very vain man, wanted an heir to his fortune. But not just anyone would do. He wanted the best. And the best was me…at least, I was the best he could manage. My good looks, my genetic enhancements, my biotics, my brain, all of it were mere…copies of something or someone else. I'm just a creation of a man's vanity, nothing more. And yet despite all the money he poured into me, I wasn't enough.

"He was a very strict man. All professional, no love…it was a wonder I survived childhood at all, with no love. I suppose maybe that came from the staff that taught me. But I can't imagine their love would be anything other than some warped form of pity."

The words were coming easily to Miranda, more than she would have liked. She didn't like being so open. She had never been so open to anyone in her life about this. She felt like crying and she felt like hitting something. But mostly, she felt like saying more. Letting the Commander in on her life, even though they hardly knew each other in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps it was the Shepard was looking at her, with those hard eyes and set jaw, determined to take in every word and really listen to it. She didn't know, but she continued on anyway.

"I was trained in all sorts of things educationally and recreationally and despite high marks from all of my teachers, it was never enough for my father. The only time he ever gave me any attention was when I did something less than perfectly. Then I was scolded endlessly, beaten on some nights when he'd had too much brandy, and made to never forget it. I left as soon as I could. It wasn't as easy as just walking out the door, but I managed. And I've never looked back."

A few minutes of silence followed before Shepard finally spoke.

"You look back every day."

Miranda opened her mouth to speak but stopped as the Commander stood and reached for her hands, holding them comfortingly. "Every time you think of him, you think of your failures, or your lack of worth, you're looking back at him. It's only human, Miranda, which is what you are. Despite what your father may have given you, you've made them your own. And you've done more with them than your worthless father could possible imagine. I'm not eloquent on words so I won't be able to change how you feel with a well-placed adjective or anything, but you mean something to me, for exactly who you are, not what your father made you. For starters, he wanted you to behave, and here you are."

Shepard smiled as Miranda looked like a child in this moment, wanting to believe her words more than anything but also being hindered by years of suffering. She let go of the sentinel's hands and brought hers up to cup Miranda's cheeks, waiting until Miranda made eye contact.

"You are responsible for your failures, for your mistakes. We all are. But you're also responsible for saving my life, twice, and bringing an end to Reaper invasion. Do you think that's what your father had planned for you?"

Miranda shook her head, causing the tears to fall loosely and Shepard embraced her. Miranda didn't react at first, but soon the Commander felt her hands on her back, holding her tightly as if she'd disappear otherwise. She could feel Miranda's heavy breathing as she tried to calm herself, feel her warm body against hers, the smell of her hair, of her skin, the feel of her shoulder blades and the faintest hint of her spine as she gently trailed her fingers down her back and up again.

The action comforted Miranda. It spread warmth throughout her body and caused her tingle just a bit. She could feel the muscles of the strong Commander against her front, the flat stomach pushing against hers with every breath, the smell of a perfume she hadn't noticed before that was perhaps only used for Hock's party, the feel of the tight dress. It was overwhelming as her senses seemed to overload and focus only on Shepard.

Shepard was the first to pull away. Their arms were still around each other but the Commander seemed more intent on looking into Miranda's eyes at the moment. Such a deep, dark blue, red around the edges from her recent tears but all the more beautiful for that. Shepard's eyes then trailed downward to the full lips.

Miranda noticed the movement and put her hand on the back of Shepard's neck, fingertips gently pulling her closer. Shepard needed no more invitation as she leaned back in to kiss Miranda. It was very slow at first, both of them merely content to finally be in the moment, and cautiously their lips started to move, deepening the kiss as Shepard held tightly onto Miranda, who seemed a little weak in the knees.

Shepard pulled back after a few moments, breathless, even though it was a fairly short kiss, and smiled at Miranda, who still had her eyes closed. It was then that she remembered how exhausted Miranda was and she led her over to the bed. Miranda seemed to hitch at that, looking a little more than uneasy and Shepard smiled again, giving her a peck on the lips for reassurance.

"We're just going to sleep. You look like you need it."

Miranda nodded, too tired and overwhelmed to object, and crawled into bed at the Commander's beckoning. Shepard then sat with her back to Miranda, and gestured to the zipper on her dress. Miranda rose up lazily and dragged the zipper down, revealing what she'd refused to look at on Kasumi's camera feed. The Commander's back was tanner than hers, but still light, and she could see the muscles rippling underneath as Shepard slid herself out of the dress and threw it on the couch.

Her underwear was not standard issue, nor was it a sexy laced piece. It was dark and thin, probably Shepard's version of provocative, but suited the needs of being unseen under the dress. Shepard turned her back to Miranda as she fiddled with the bra and Miranda took this opportunity to take her boots off, not really wanting to see the Commander like that just yet. By the time her boots were taken care of, Shepard had donned a shirt and shorts and was climbing into the other side of the bed, turning off the lights as she did so.

Miranda lay down with her, feeling a bit awkward at the entire situation but certainly not enough to leave, and looked over at Shepard. The Commander smiled again and touched her cheek, bringing Miranda in for yet another kiss, murmuring "Sleep well," as she pulled away.

Miranda smiled and turned over, hoping to be able to sort her thoughts out, but her fatigue was so great that she was out as soon as her head hit the pillow.