A/N: A wee little beeboop.

"Well that could have gone better."

Miranda rolled her eyes at Shepard's comment. Even when her body was wracked with pain Shepard still somehow managed to be the most irritating thing about any situation.

"Get off of me," she muttered, pushing up with a shaky hand at Shepard's chest. Her old commander was hovering over her. Gallantly, or more accurately, idiotically, she had crouched over Miranda, shielding her from the falling debris as they came crashing down around them.

"No can do, Miss Lawson." Shepard's voice was pained and her arms trembled with the effort of holding her body up off the ground.

Miranda realized what had happened at those words, and knew exactly what position they were in despite the fact she was surrounded by nothing but darkness. Shepard's legs had been pinned down by the same wreckage hers had, and now the small glimmer of hope she had felt at the prospect of escape was long gone.

Without a word, Miranda flared up her biotics. The light blue hue that enveloped her body gave them a decent amount of light to see by in the small space. Their eyes met immediately, and a wordless message passed between them. They were apologizing to one another, pleading for forgiveness.

I'm sorry I couldn't stop this. I'm sorry I can't fix it. You were counting on me, and I let you down.

Miranda was the one who pulled her gaze away first. She knew it was over, yes, but she couldn't fight her nature. She was Miranda Lawson. She was thorough, methodical, and serious to a fault. They could not give in until she had exhausted every option.

"Let me check it out," she said to Shepard with as much strength as she could muster. The woman nodded and stretched her arms out along either side of Miranda's head, letting their bodies meet so that Miranda could see above them.

Miranda raised a hand into the air, grunting at the effort as she pulsed more energy into it, and scanned their surroundings. She tried hard not to focus on the injustice of the moment. For years now she had practically pined after the woman, had longed for the very position they were in, had sought after the intimacy of it. It felt just how she thought it would, Shepard burrowing her face into her neck, warmth and scent enveloping her. Of course, when she had imagined it there had been a lot less blood and broken bones and impending doom involved.

Her hand waved lazily through the air above them as her eyes scanned the surrounding rubble. Whether by luck or by a higher power loving to see them suffer, the collapse had fallen in just such a way that they had a small pocket of safety. It was barely enough space for the two of them, even with the fact that they were so intimately pressed up against one another and their lower halves had been buried under the wreckage.

With a heavy sigh Miranda let her arm fall and her power faded, leaving them once again in total darkness. She had been hoping that they might be near enough to the surface that she could just let loose all of her energy and simply blast their way out of there. Shepard could be hurt in the process but it would be better than wasting away into obscurity. That wasn't a feasible plan however. It was obvious the weight above them was substantial. Any show of force would bring the rest of the rubble down around them, effectively ending their lives. In the end, it really didn't matter. They would run out of air eventually.

"So, I guess that's the last time you do me a personal favor, eh?" Shepard sighed out into her neck.

Miranda relished the sensation of the heat against her skin, and had to try hard to sound properly annoyed. "I can't believe I fell for the 'it's just a batarian slave ring so we'll be in and out in an hour' routine."

Shepard chuckled, though the sound did not carry the levity it usually did. "How was I supposed to know the thing was rigged with explosives?"

Ignoring the question, Miranda closed her eyes, focusing on her body. Her ribs had gotten more than a little damaged in the fall, and both of her legs were pinned under the large slab of concrete that imprisoned Shepard and her both. Shepard's right leg was on top of her left, which had shielded it from the brunt of the damage. It still throbbed painfully, but it was a wound that would heal with time and medical attention. Her right leg may have well been nonexistent. It had gone numb from the ordeal, and would likely never be of proper use to her again.

She smiled at herself for that, for thinking as though that would matter. She would never know the fate of her right leg because she already knew her own. No help was coming, their oxygen supply was finite, and she was going to die. After invading Collector bases and dodging Cerberus assassins and ridding the universe of the Reapers, Miranda Lawson was going to suffocate to death. It was laughable, and so she did just that.

Shepard took in the sound with a healthy degree of astonishment. "What joke am I missing?" she asked with amusement.

"We're going to die here," Miranda replied, shaking her head in the darkness. "After everything we've done." She laughed again, though it was a pained sound. The metallic taste of blood was slowly overwhelming her mouth, and the simple act of breathing was growing more and more difficult. If it was due to their oxygen running out or her own bodily systems failing, she couldn't say.

Shepard gave her a hard look, though she knew Miranda couldn't see it. "You were right before," she finally whispered.

Miranda shifted beneath her, unconsciously searching for comfort she would never achieve. "Hmm?"

"You really aren't funny."

Miranda would have laughed again, but it seemed like it might be too painful at that point. Shepard's breathing was clearly growing more labored, bursting out in hot unsteady streams on Miranda's neck. They were silent for quite some time, only the sounds of their gasping could be heard.

For a while, Miranda was pleasantly surprised by the peace. Her body was slowly shutting down; sparing itself from the pain she was in. It was quiet and the atmosphere was reassuringly still. She didn't have to spend her final moments on edge, looking down the barrel of a pistol like she had always assumed. No, she could relax here, block out the pain. It would be easy, perhaps the easiest thing she had ever done in her traumatic and bloody life. The most relaxing mission she could hope for, just to close her eyes and go to sleep forever.

It was oddly comforting, having Shepard there. Though the small space was unbearably hot, and only growing more so, she found the woman's weight pressing down against her own body rather reassuring. Her final mission would not be a solo one. There was somebody by her side, for once. A friend. For that, she found she didn't mind sharing what little air she had left.

"Miranda?" Shepard asked cautiously. The silence had been scaring her, she wasn't sure if the woman was still conscious. She hated herself in that moment. She hated how helpful she had to always be. She hated that she had taken that job, that she had been too slow to pick up on the fact that charges had been set on every floor. She hated that it was her fault Miranda was lying beneath her, body all but pulverized. She hated that she had asked Miranda to come at all.

She hated Miranda for agreeing.

A weight lifted off her chest when the body beneath her stirred. Miranda's arms trailed weakly up along her back as she spoke. "Don't talk. We need to conserve air."

Shepard scoffed, "For what?" She regretted it as soon as she said the words, and continued on apologetically. "We're in the basement of a five story facility, Miranda, nobody is coming."

"I know," the woman whispered back without hesitation. There was another silence then, and Shepard thought about all the things she should be saying. She should apologize, should beg for forgiveness. Miranda had given her so much. She had sacrificed two years to bring Shepard back, had almost given her own life to defeat the collectors, had resigned from her post and knowingly forfeited Oriana's protection, and had been an irreplaceable ally in the war against the Reapers. She deserved nothing but respect and honor and yet there she was, dying a pathetic death at Shepard's command.

"What a way to go," Miranda sighed out at length, her arms tightening unconsciously around Shepard's back.

Shepard relaxed into the possessive hold, burrowing her face into Miranda's neck. "I dunno," she mumbled, "I can think of worse places to be." Making a quick decision, she placed her lips to the exposed skin before her.

Miranda stiffened at the contact, and Shepard was afraid she had taken it a step too far. She had figured she had nothing to lose at that point, but in the silence that followed it seemed like an awful idea. Great, now she had killed Miranda and made her uncomfortable all in one sweep.

Her fears were quickly assuaged however as Miranda shifted beneath her, turning her head so there lips finally met. Shepard's response was instantaneous as she greedily took in everything the woman was offering. Her heart was pounding with excitement as adrenaline coursed through her veins, making it easy to forget how badly it hurt with every insignificant miniscule movement they made together. She could not help but feel bitter. If this is how it felt when they were so weak, so close to death, then she couldn't imagine what it would have been like all those times she had been too scared to act in the past.

Miranda was too focused on her work to develop emotional attachments. She was too together to have an interest in Shepard, she was too classy for an idealistic self proclaimed comedian. Those were the thoughts that had always discouraged Shepard since their meeting.

Hindsight really was a bitch.

Reluctantly, Miranda pulled away after her lungs could take no more abuse. Both women were panting heavily, finding it difficult to catch their breath when there was so little air to be had around them. Miranda wished fruitlessly for some form of natural light as Shepard's forehead came closer to gently rest against her own. She would give anything to see her face in that moment.

"You," she managed to wheeze out quietly, "have atrocious timing."

Shepard tried to let out a soft laugh, but nothing came. "In my defense you are rather intimidating."

Miranda leaned up into Shepard once more to capture her lips. It was a gentle, chaste, gesture. They both found they hardly had the energy for anything more. She fell back to the ground gracelessly, finding her eyes were growing heavy.

"Miranda," Shepard rasped out. "I'm so-"

"Don't," Miranda breathed. She didn't want Shepard to apologize for leading her to her death, that wasn't the truth of it. "I was existing before you. And now," Shepard bit her lip at Miranda's words, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall, "I've never felt more alive."

Miranda sighed out in contentment, happy she had been given the opportunity to get the words off of her chest before her time was up. Shepard could feel with her entire being as Miranda's last breath left her, and knew she was alone in the darkness. It was only a matter of time until she followed her into whatever awaited on the other side of life.

She pressed a gentle kiss to the woman's forehead. "I'm sorry, love," she murmured into her skin. Her eyes fell shut, and she focused the rest of her energy on imagining she was back on the Normandy in her comfortable bed, freshly awakened from Project Lazarus, Miranda in her arms, drifting asleep among the stars.