Summary of prompt: Miranda interacting with the child she always wanted.

After writing the fill for the infertility prompt, Empty Home, which is posted here and you should totally read. (*cough cough* shameless self-promotion *cough*) I found this prompt and thought it'd be a nice follow-up. So this is set in the same universe as that fic, and is a bit sequel-y, though you don't have to read one or the other, each story stands on its own.

And I needed a bit of a fluff break before I start on my next, super angsty fill.

Even after three years, Shepard had trouble orienting herself to the alien sky. Nights were usually purple instead of black, fluctuating between a deep, almost blue purple to lavender, depending on the time of year and rotation of the planet. It also had something to do with the atmosphere, shifts in the gas composition or something; Miranda had told her but she could not remember.

While more striking against the richness of the purple, the constellations were completely foreign. Twinkling sparks of light against a background of vibrant color was surreally beautiful, so stunning that it was hard to believe it to be reality. It was odd to gaze up at the sky and not be able to pick out familiar patterns of light. There was no Big Dipper, no Orion's belt. Even after spending most of her adult life in space, on the surface of different planets, Shepard still missed the familiarity of Earth's night skies.

She finished the last of her post-dinner coffee in one long swallow, before it became cold, and stepped back from the railing of the porch. Their house was large, much larger than Shepard thought they needed, but Miranda had insisted on including separate offices for the each of them, two spare bedrooms that no one ever went in, a state-of-the-art communications suite which was more at home on a starship than in a house, and a master bathroom that rivaled the master bedroom in size and comfort. It was a new house, finished in the summer three years ago. It still smelled new to Shepard, of fresh paint and drywall.

It was the only house built this far from the colony, and if she squinted to the west, she could just barely make out the palid orange light from the buildings in the colony over the miles of waving sheathes of grassland. Smiling, she placed her palm on the front door's security pad and it slid open as it authenticated her identity. The house was uncharacteristically quiet, her footsteps seeming to echo in her ears as she placed her empty mug in the kitchen sink.

Her steps quieted as she crept down the long hallway, not wanting to disturb the peaceful calm. The second door on the right was open, light spilling into the hallway. Through it, she heard Miranda's voice, the strong cadence of her accent, but was not close enough to make out the words. She slipped to the edge of the door, and ducked her head to peer in.

Thankfully, Miranda had abandoned her skin-tight Cerberus jumpsuit for something a little more… conservative. Not that Shepard didn't appreciate the revealing, curve hugging outfit, but it had its time and place. Besides, she thought her lover was equally beautiful in whatever she wore. Even, if not more so, in the tight shorts and tank top she currently wore for bed. Her thick, dark hair was a shade longer than it had been when they first met, but tonight she had gathered it back in a messy ponytail, the errant curls tucked behind her ears.

She lay on the too-small bed, propped against a stack of pillows. She was oblivious to Shepard's gaze, her attention focused on the book spread open on her lap and the small child tucked under her arm.

"What's that?" The little girl pointed at one of the pictures in the book, and Shepard grinned. "What's that?" had replaced "why?" as Abby's favorite phrase. For only being a month over three years old, she was extraordinarily inquisitive. Miranda blamed Shepard.

"It's a horse." Miranda explained patiently to their daughter. "Humans used to ride on their backs to get around. Before shuttles and cars and ships."

Abby quirked a brow, and Shepard had to bite down on the inside of her cheek hard to keep from laughing out loud. Their daughter did not favor Miranda or Shepard in appearance. Her hair was nearly white-blond and curly, her eyes dark blue, her face round and if her current height was any indication, she would tower over her mothers when she was fully-grown. But her mannerisms were wholly Miranda's.

When neither woman could bear children of their own, when the Reapers had been defeated, when they were finally free to catch their breath and live for themselves, they had adopted. Abby had been their little girl from the moment she turned four minutes old. And while she had picked up Shepard's free-spirited tendencies, her mannerisms, her demeanor so resembled Miranda's that it was uncanny.

"Why? How do you ride an animal through space?" Abby asked, obviously skeptical of Miranda's answer.

Miranda tilted her head to the side. "You don't. They rode horses around Earth. Before humans even knew that travel beyond the planet was possible. Before shuttles were invented." She reached over and tucked a curl behind the little girl's ear.

Abby stared stoically at her mother, the same way Miranda considered someone when she was deciding whether or not they were being truthful. "They should have just invented a shuttle then, Mama." Abby finally decided.

Miranda smiled at their daughter, her smile warm and openly affectionate. One of the biggest gifts of motherhood had been watching the subtle changes in her lover. While still fully capable of crossing her arms over her chest and becoming fabled ice queen Shepard had first met, while she could still consider situations with cold, surgical precision at times, the edges had definitely softened. Smiles were much quicker to grace her lips, her patience had definitely improved, and she was tender in a way that absolutely made the commander positively melt.

She was still the woman Shepard had fallen in love with, all those years ago, but over the years, her humanity became more evident. (Something she attributed to Shepard's damn influence.) But watching Miranda interact with their daughter was nothing short of enchanting. The woman who could take off a mech's head a two hundred yards now delicately treated skinned knees, rocked a little girl in her arms whenever there were bad dreams, swung her up into the air and caught her, her own laugh joining the childish giggles.

She smiled when she thought of one of her favorite memories. Miranda had been offworld when Abby had taken her first steps. Shepard had been in the kitchen, while Abby banged pots and skillets with a spoon on the floor. Glimpsing away for only a moment, she had been startled when she felt little hands on her calf. When she looked down, Abby was clinging to her trousers, wobbling on her tiny feet. Then she took off, teetering across the kitchen.

As overjoyed as Shepard had been, she kept their daughter's accomplishment from Miranda until she came home. The shuttle dropped her at the end of their long gravel driveway, and Shepard had carried Abby in the yard to meet her. Kneeling behind the toddler, Shepard pointed at her other mother. "Go get her, Abby. Go get Mama."

Her daughter squealed in excitement and all but took off running as soon as Shepard let go of her. Her steps were still uncertain and clumsy, but she was still surprisingly fast, her momentum propelling her forward. The expression that had been on Miranda's face was one that Shepard would treasure her whole life. After everything they had been through together, with the Collectors, with the shared discovery that neither of them would ever be able to bear children of their own, with the Reapers and the war, she still had not become accustomed to seeing Miranda's face so relaxed, her expression so openly adoring. A touch of innocence, of hope, of optimism had returned to those ice blue eyes Shepard loved so much.

Miranda had abandoned her bag and dropped to her knees, arms spread wide as the toddler crashed into her, giggling. She stood up, scooping Abby up in her arms and hugging her tightly, whispering to her words that Shepard could not hear. The wind had whipped Miranda's hair around, toying with it like a kitten with string, as she had leaned down and touched her nose to Abby's. The smile that had graced her lips being one of the most honest, joyful smiles Shepard had ever seen from her lover.

"Okay, one more," Miranda flipped the page, drawing Shepard's attention back into the bedroom. "Oh, this is one of my favorites." Abby snuggled closer to her mother to examine the pictures. "'Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.'" She paused to allow Abby time to look at the pictures before flipping the page again. "'And all the king's horses and all the king's men, couldn't put Humpy Dumpty back together again.' But then they sent for the princess, who single-handedly pieced Humpty Dumpty back together with cybernetic implants and years of meticulous work. Humpty Dumpty was good as new, better even, and went on to save the galaxy, thanks to the diligent expertise of the princess."

"Where's the picture for that?" Abby glimpsed up at Miranda as she shut the book and placed it on the bedside table.

"It's in the addendum." Miranda swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, rearranging the pillows before Abby could question her again. "It's bed time."

"Can't I sleep with you and Mom tonight?"

Miranda stiffened and hesitated her straightening of the covers, and for a moment Shepard could see her former executive officer begin to relent. "No, sweetie. Not tonight. Crawl under the covers and I'll tuck you in."

Abby complied, wiggling her little body under the floral printed comforter and laying on her back and gazing up at Miranda expectantly. Miranda grinned and began tucking the blankets around her daughter. "Tuck, tuck, tuck…" She said, and Abby giggled as the blankets were pushed tightly around her. "Now you're trapped by the covers!" She teased and ruffled the unruly curls.

The small bedside lamp was left on; Abby was still uncertain about sleeping in the dark. She snuggled with her favorite stuffed, a soft, furry krogan plush that Uncle Garrus gave her when she was an infant. Quietly, Miranda left the room, blinking in surprise as she noticed Shepard watching.

"Humpty Dumpty?" Shepard grinned, keeping her voice low. "You're a sick bitch."

Miranda started to smile before softly shushing her. "Watch it. You might be comfortable with our daughter grunting and cursing like an Alliance soldier, but I would rather she be a little more couth than that." She chided, glimpsing reflectively into their daughter's bedroom. They started down the hallway towards their own bedroom, the former Cerberus officer looping her arm through her lover's.

"Fine, she can talk classy like you." Shepard agreed, unable to resist teasing her. Abby already possessed some of Miranda's gentle cadence and a vocabulary that was uncharacteristically large for a three year old. "But I get to teach her how to knock some heads."

Miranda groaned and rolled her eyes, resting her forehead on Shepard's shoulder as if exhausted by her. "You're determined to turn her into a bloody barbarian. Like you."

"Well, I don't hear you complaining." Shepard moved quickly; she might technically not be a soldier anymore, but she kept in shape. She grabbed her lover by the waist, easily tossing her over her shoulder and holding her balanced by wrapping an arm around her legs, carrying her like a sack of potatoes. "Mmm. Wife." She grunted like a caveman.

"Rye!" Miranda shrieked in surprise, feeling herself lifted and thrown around as if she weighed no more than a leaf. "Shepard! Put me down this instant." She thudded her lover on the back, the only thing she could reach, hard. "I demand you put me down, Commander."

Shepard ignored her half-hearted struggles as she carried her into the bedroom. If Miranda truly wanted to escape, she was still a more than capable fighter. Shifting her weight, she carefully tossed her onto the bed, looming over her and grinning wolfishly. "You know how I like it when you call me, 'commander.'"

As she descended to kiss Miranda, she felt herself halted by a hand pressing firmly on her chest. Miranda gazed up at her, cool blue eyes twinkling with mirth that was absent from her face. "Then lock the door, Commander." She whispered smoothly, seductively in the way that still sent a shiver down Shepard's spine. "Unless you want our daughter wandering in like last time."

Man. I have been on some insane writing kick lately. Hope it keeps up.

And remember: every time you read a fic/fill and don't leave a bit of feedback, a baby Reaper gets its wicked-killing-laser-thingie. So please, think of this cycle, and leave a comment. :-)