I actually wrote this a while back, but now seems a good time to post it.

FemShep/Miranda, post-ME3 AUish, sort of awkwardly dancing around their feelings for each other as Miranda helps a still recovering Shepard get dressed for a memorial/commendation ceremony.

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“Walk me through this again.”

Miranda did her best not to smile at Shepard’s anxiety. “It’s a commendation ceremony, part of an on-going series of remembrance ceremonies that the various government remnants have be staging. And since the <i>Normandy</i> has returned and you can walk on your own now…” She paused as Shepard’s gaze flickered to cane leaning against her bed, then amended, “Mostly on your own. The Alliance brass decided now was as good a time as any, and the others seem to have agreed. You’re receiving several awards, even if the physical medals may not be available at the moment.” She decided not to warn Shepard about the promotion the Commander would also be receiving.

Shepard ran her hands over her face. “I’m guessing you didn’t tell them I haven’t quite gotten the hang of dressing myself yet.”

“You’re getting there, Shepard.” Miranda stepped over to Shepard’s dress blues and started laying the garments out on the bed. “But you do need a little help, so we’d better get started.”

She held the uniform’s blue knit shirt out to Shepard, who took it with a sigh. Miranda knew this wasn’t easy for Shepard, and she expected her to drag her feet getting dressed, even without the added difficulty of not having quite the strength back to do so on her own. She watched Shepard struggle with the shirt for a few moments before easing it the rest of the way on for her; Shepard wouldn’t meet her eyes, but that was hardly surprising. Shepard managed her socks on her own. The trousers were easy enough to pull up, but fastening them eluded her.

“Here.” Miranda’s hands brushed Shepard’s as she took over. She was very aware of just how close she was to Shepard at the moment, and keenly aware of where her hands were. Shepard’s sharp intake of breath when Miranda had taken over seemed to say that she was also keenly aware of where Miranda’s hands were.

Miranda glanced up at Shepard in time to catch the Commander wetting her lips. Their eyes locked for a moment before Shepard cleared her throat.

“Thanks.” Shepard’s voice was almost its usual pitch now, but a little of the rasp remained. “They, um, don’t seem to be going to stay in the right place. Guess I lost more weight than I thought.”

Letting go of Shepard’s trousers, Miranda opened a small box that contained blue braces almost the same color as the uniform’s shirt. “These ought to do the trick. I expected things wouldn’t fit exactly as expected.”

Shepard chuckled softly. “Guess you really thought of everything.”

Miranda rolled her eyes and set about attaching the braces to Shepard’s trousers. Which once again put her extremely close to Shepard, who once again seemed to find it basically as distracting as Miranda did. Once the braces were in place, Miranda helped Shepard into her uniform jacket, which proved more of an ordeal than either had expected.

She let Shepard sit down for a moment and got a cool, damp cloth. She wiped it gently across Shepard’s brow, clearing away the beads of sweat that had sprung up. Shepard sighed and leaned against the cloth. Miranda wanted to give Shepard something for the pain she’d just reawakened, but she was fairly sure that Shepard wanted to go through the ceremony without drugs in her system. Miranda wasn’t sure how well that would go; she knew Shepard was still in more pain than she’d let on. She sighed and set the cloth aside, then brushed the hair away from Shepard’s forehead before helping her stand again to finish closing the clasps on her uniform.

The jacket, like the trousers, clearly stated that Shepard still had a ways to go in recovering. But Miranda had to admit that the Commander did look good in uniform.

“There.” Miranda nodded at her handiwork. “Off you go, Commander. I’ll see you later.”

Shepard grabbed her cane and shook her head as she headed for the door. “If I survive this…”

Miranda had no doubt that she would, even if it was likely to be more than a little painful.