Shep 'doing his rounds' has always been a spot of chuckled-filled "what-if" possibilities left rolling about in the back of my head. With a bit of encouragement from a few people, I'm going to "try" to put some of those thoughts to paper.

No chronological order, m-Shep and/or f-shep are both up for game. I might even 'borrow' a few other people's Shepards here and there. No promises, but here's the first installment (of, hopefully, more). My usual disclaimer: I'm not a writer. Just inspired by some really good FF authors to be a bit more brave. Thank you. You know who you folks are. :D

I don't own Mass Effect, Bioware, or EA. If I did, I'd have been more focused on share-holder equity than 'holding the line' on 'artistic vision'.

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Setting: Normandy SR2 - Just past seven bells into Middle watch. Shepard, having lost track of the time, prowls the ship looking for conversation.

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Restless after the last mission, and frankly more than a bit disturbed by his latest conversation with Jack (though, he thought with a chuckle, 'disturbed' was pretty much a standard in any form of interaction with Jack), Shepard stepped off the elevator onto the crew deck. Turning right Shepard-still absorbed in attempting to unravel 'Jack speak' in his head-slowly walked past the mess area, nodding at the few crewman present as he approached the XO's cabin.

He almost walked into the door.

Curious, Shepard though with a smirk and unconscious scratch of his left ear. Miranda rarely locked her cabin. In fact, he'd never encountered her door locked. Curiosity overriding caution, his omni-tool flared to life for a moment, and the door slid open to reveal…darkness.

Huh? He thought eloquently, as he stood staring at the darkened XO's office.

"Miranda?" He inquired, slowly stepping into the room, his right hand fumbling the lights on. Not seeing his XO at her desk he turned toward her sleeping quarters (brilliant deduction there, John…why would she be sitting at her desk in the dark? No, wait, don't answer that.) to find something…startling. His normally quick mind struggled with what he saw before him: Miranda, rising quickly from her bed…in pink pajamas…with…booties? Was that a unicorn she'd just stuffed under the pillows?

"Sheparrrd" The now-awakened woman growled. He'd never head Miranda 'growl' before, "What do you WANT?" It was a really good growl. Terrifying in a 'pink pajamas serial killer' kind of way.

Taking a step back, hastily clearing his throat, he fumbled out, "I was just doing my rounds and wanted to check in…" His words were cut short as she slowly stepped off the bed. Except Miranda hadn't stepped; she had sort of 'floated' upright. And she was glowing. Rather more like dripping black fire from her now darkly-luminous form really.

"Commander," Miranda intoned deeply, her eyes alit with an indigo flare of promethean radiance "OUT!"

Shepard nearly tripped over the door tracts in his haste to comply. Embarrassed, and quite frankly a bit scared, he turned to make a hasty retreat.

"Sheparrrd." There is was again, that growly thing. It stopped him in his tracks.

"Not a word of this." The dark 'thing' behind him hissed. He tried to conjure a mental image of the pink PJs with booties, but it just burst into flames. Dark flames with skulls in them.

He cleared his throat, while firmly NOT looking over his shoulder, and began to reply, "Of course, Officer Lawson, I'd nev…" WHOOSHBLAM! The doors slid closed behind him with a great deal more force than they should. Two crewmen on late watch, who had been idly sitting at the mess table, nearly fell out of their seats at the noise. One did actually. Just a little. And there might have been a scream…having something to do with hot coffee.

While the other crewman was distracted trying to help her scalded table-mate off the floor his Infiltrator training took over. He activated his tactical cloak and vanished, wondering for how long he could avoid 'The thing in the room'.

He was good at not being seen (quite brilliant actually), but the Normandy was not a terribly large ship after all…