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FIC: Interstitial 5-9 (Mass Effect)
Title: Interstitial
Author: Jewels (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bjewelled)
Fandom: Mass Effect
Disclaimer: Mass Effect is the property of Bioware. So is the hamster.
Summary: When you put chronology of a relationship in a blender, and take a look at what's left over, you probably wind up with something like this. Nine excerpts from the relationship.
Author's Notes: Gah, it's been a long time since I've written something this overtly romantic. Although romantic is probably the wrong word to use here. It just started as something to keep me busy while I was playing ME2, to keep my brain from continually running through the off-screen scenarios. And then at some point I decided to keep writing them and, if not turn it into a story, turn it into a collection of little vignettes that entertained me. I shan't bore you by explaining my character choices. If you've played the games, you can probably pick up what I decided.
Spoilers: Heavy, for both games so far.
Word Count: 14, 379
From the start...
**
Five
**
"Please tell me you fed the fish."
"I fed your fish." Yeoman Kelly Edwards said, promptly, as she followed Shepard into the Captain's quarters aboard the Normandy SR2. Shepard was working at the seals of her armour, and had managed to wedge two fingers into the neck seal, starting to unlatch it when she stopped dead just inside the door. Kelly only just stopped before walking nose first into the back of her CO.
"Kelly," Shepard said.
"Yes, Commander?"
"If you fed the fish, where are they?"
Kelly fidgeted with the pad in her hands. "Well, I came in to feed the fish like you asked," she said, "And I fed them."
Shepard turned, quirking an eyebrow. "And?" she prompted.
"And then I realised the food wouldn't do much for them as they were sort of dead."
"Sort of?"
Kelly tried a smile. "Very dead?"
Shepard threw her hands up in the air. "That's it. I'm done with fish. I'm just going to contemplate the seaweed. Please tell me why Cerberus thought a fishtank was a good idea in the Captain's quarters?"
"Fish are relaxing," Kelly pointed out, "It's why they're kept in medical waiting rooms."
"Great. I'll give Chakwas the damned fish." Shepard returned to fidgeting with the suit seals. "Dammit, I think one of those geth husks shorted out the releases. Couldn't give me a hand, could you?"
"Look at it this way," Kelly said, as she set the pad down on the desk, next to the computer console, "At least the hamster's still kicking it."
Shepard turned her back on Kelly, giving her access to the rear seals and the power-plant connectors. Kelly had never been training beyond basic instruction in combat gear, couldn't imagine being as comfortable with it as Shepard clearly was. The releases were fiddly even with both hands free, it seemed to demand two more fingers than she possessed, but after some digital contortions, there was a soft click, and the seals released, the suit powering down with an almost inaudible whine.
Kelly caught the torso armour before it thudded to the floor, turning to set it on the floor. When she turned back, Shepard had managed to remove the rest of the exterior plating, leaving only the thin underlayer that left nothing to the imagination. Shepard was clearly someone who was comfortable with her own body, as she kept talking even as she pulled the underlayer free, carefully pulling it away from the exposed bits of cybertech on her body.
"The hamster," Shepard said, oblivious to Kelly's regard, "Is clearly a mutant Cerberus spy who watches me sleep."
"Squeak." The hamster seemed to agree, nose sticking out of his little cardboard house.
"Paranoid about surveillance," Kelly asked, careful to inject a note of teasing into her voice, "Now that is interesting."
"Less of that, young lady," Shepard said, wagging her finger as she pulled on a ground. Kelly was careful not to give any more regard to the cybertech connectors than to Shepard's face. "What do you have to report?"
Kelly walked back to the desk, picking up her pad. "You have new messages awaiting you at your private terminal," she said, "Status reports from all departments have been filed and waiting for your review. No red flags, though Engineering have highlighted that the portside cargobay could use a new CO2 scrubber. No rush, it's just the one in there is apparently a little troublesome."
"Anything else?"
"Operative Lawson asked to speak to you when you were back aboard. She's in her office."
Shepard sighed ever so slightly. "Yes, fine. Tell Miranda I'll be there as soon as I have a minute."
"Yes, Commander," Kelly said, making a note on her pad.
She didn't intend to be nosy, she really didn't, but she was a psychologist by training, and one didn't take up such a skill by being a wallflower who never sought about information about those around them. So when she had finished with her pad and Shepard hadn't dismissed her, she looked down at the desk.
Personal terminal, a fiction novel, files, a medal stand, indicating that she takes pride in her accomplishments, even if they have been done whilst under the aegis of Cerberus, and a photograph...
Kelly waved a hand, and the proximity sensor in the frame picked up the gesture, bringing up the image it contained. A rather handsome young man, military uniform just visible at the bottom of the frame, a generic non-personal photo, garnered from public news sources or possibly Cerberus intelligence. She recognised him.
Kelly suddenly realised that Shepard wasn't speaking. She brought her head up, ready to apologise if Shepard thought that she was out of bounds, but Shepard was instead leaning against the desk's edge, staring thoughtfully at the photo.
Kelly watched her CO, took careful note of the way that her fingers absently rearranged the folds of her gown to cover the exposed tech connectors, hiding them from sight. Curious. She was confident enough with her body with someone who only counted as a female friend at best, but the thought of this particular man seeing those connectors fuelled an unconscious embarrassment.
"He's very handsome," Kelly said.
"Yes," Shepard said, then shook herself and smiled in a way that didn't reach her eyes, "But between gene mods and regular workouts, a lot of men in the Alliance military are."
Shepard hadn't shut her down yet, and she'd admitted her feelings about her old Lieutenant easily enough. Kelly took the risk of pushing a little further. "So what did attract you to Commander Alenko?"
Shepard didn't answer directly. She just smiled ruefully. "I always knew he'd make Commander," she commented.
A belief that even from a bad start in life, he would achieve equal status with her. So very similar to Shepard's own past, the same story but with different actors and sets. The feeling of finding a kindred spirit, enhanced by the thrill of possible death during the pursuit of Saren. A short but intense courtship.
Kelly didn't say anything. Sometimes her analytical brain really killed the romance in a situation.
Finally Shepard straightened, as if rousing herself from a daydream. "That'll be all, Ensign."
"Aye, Commander," Kelly said, tucking her pad into the crook of her arm, and heading out promptly, before Shepard grew uncomfortable and made it harder for her to open up to Kelly in the future. But she did look back in time to see Shepard reach for the photoframe before the door slid shut, blocking her view.
**
Six
**
The warm breeze from Mirage's vast seas blew in through the open windows. It carried a heady scent of tropical flowers mingled with the freshness of the water. Every planet and moon had its own smell, and Shepard had thought, the moment she'd first set foot on the tropical moon, that she rather liked this one. Not that she was paying much attention to it at that moment. The breeze drifted across her naked body, deliciously cooling as it whispered across damp, sweaty skin.
"You," she said, as she caught her breath, "Have been holding out on me."
Kaidan grinned at her, bending his head to kiss her, and when she was thoroughly distracted, rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. She found herself giggling (giggling! Her!) like some sort of schoolgirl, but couldn't bring herself to be too bothered about that.
He really had surprised his with his enthusiasm, and inventiveness. She supposed it wasn't so surprising. There was no longer the crushing fear that tomorrow would bring death or the failure to prevent Sovereign from destroying known space, and here, far away from the Citadel, the Alliance, rules and regulations, with another biotic who had no fear of him or his 'strange' abilities, he showed himself to be surprisingly uninhibited.
The crew of the Normandy had been 'required' to take a month's shore leave. Shepard could think of several reasons why off the top of her head. It kept them dispersed, off the press radar, where it was much harder for them to speak up and rally any sort of public support, given that they were being hailed as heroes. The Council wanted them out of the way while they rebuilt their base of power, and reasserted control over known space, reassuring the populace that they weren't all about to die. It wouldn't be good if the Spectre who saved the Council was giving soundbites that contradicted the party line. The Alliance wanted to study the damage to the ship and the Mako, to figure out a defence against the geth and Reaper weapons, and wanted to keep separate a crew that had shown more loyalty to its commander than its orders.
Shepard hadn't raised an objection, but then she had her own selfish reasons. She'd seeded rumours and electronic breadcrumbs that sent anyone looking for her to the other side of known space. If anyone caught her, she'd claim that she was seeking privacy, and as a Spectre she only truly answered to the Council, who couldn't care less where she vacationed. If someone saw a passenger manifest of the transfer to Mirage, they might see a 'Miss Lamb' on the roster, but not find anything odd about it.
"Couldn't have you making so much noise back on the ship," Kaidan said, teasingly, as he smoothed his hand down her back. "Adams might have thought something was broken."
"That's insubordination, mister." Alright, so maybe she had become a tad uninhibited herself.
"Yes, Commander," he said, with a grin.
Part of her was telling her, in the quiet moments when she actually had a chance to give this affair any thought, that this was some silly infatuation, that shipboard romances never lasted and, besides, did they really know each other well enough that this was anything more than a physical compatibility enhanced by a shared fight against an apparently indomitable enemy?
Shepard didn't kid herself. She knew she looked good, though her haircut was more a practical one than anything, and she never saw the point in wearing makeup. She ran around in gravities ranging from non-existent to semi-crushing, and had to be athletic and built hardily enough to handle whatever the galaxy decided to throw at her next. She knew how to turn a phrase, learnt how the moment she'd figured out that the dumb fucks who couldn't reason their way out of a paperbag wound up out of their skulls on Red Sand, cannon fodder for the gang bosses.
Of course, that same part of her life had taught her the value of her body, and how easy it could be to ensnare the hapless. She'd never felt driven enough to use such cheap tricks, valuing words over physicality, but ex-lovers that she'd had in the years of Alliance service had proved that men were suckers for a pretty face and a nice backside, and didn't really care if she had two braincells to rub together. Eventually, she'd just sworn off military partners, not considering it worth the while.
Flirting was different, of course. It was words, another way to turn a situation to the advantage, and could be rather fun besides. Harmless fun, the sort they didn't court martial you over. That's all it was supposed to be with Kaidan, a bit of harmless flirting, taking the pressure away from the undeniably political assignment of catching a rogue Spectre. Yes, there were legitimate reasons it was important to stop Saren, but the Council had called her constantly, and her terminal had filled up with private messages from Ambassador Udina, and Admirals who wanted her to do jobs for them that her newfound 'above the law' status meant that they couldn't get the work done themselves. She was good at politics, but didn't have to like it.
And then suddenly Kaidan had been standing in her quarters and faced with the choice between jumping off the rather precarious cliff that was in front of her, and backing away quickly, she'd leapt without thinking, trusting he'd catch her.
She couldn't actually remember the last time she'd trusted that easily.
No, she did. Henrick, back in basic. The first man who'd ever shown her a bit of kindness in courting her, or so she'd thought, used to the rough nature of the streets. She'd trusted him too readily, and when it turned out he just liked how she looked, and didn't give a shit about anything else, she'd taken it as a learning experience, and not handed out that trust so readily again. Sex was easy, faith was something she didn't care to place in anyone. She'd knew she'd suffered for lack of friends because of it. Her circle of companions generally consisted of her shipmates at any given time. If any of her former partners had been aboard her ship, come to her the night before a dangerous mission, she would have smiled, pointed out the regs about the CO of a ship fraternising with the crew, and sent them on their way.
But not Kaidan. It was something of a fiendish puzzle that she couldn't work out.
There was a noise, just on the edge of her hearing, a beep of a message alert.
She sighed, starting to pull away and sit up, to find wherever it was she'd stashed the omni-tool and check what was so important. Kaidan, however, was somewhat reluctant to let her go. He snaked arms around her waist and pulled her back down before she could get away.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked her, pressing his lips against her neck, making her shiver even in the warmth of the air.
"The galaxy could be in peril," she said, "Civilisation as we know it might be on the verge of falling."
"What a pity," he murmured, "We'll be stuck on this tropical moon forever. Real pity."
She chuckled and tugged his hair, pulling his head back gently. "You'd miss the extranet," she said, "Don't think I don't know that anything with a Y chromosome is looking at porn on that thing."
"That's true," he said, "You'd better answer that. Can't deprive the galaxy of porn."
She kissed him, firmly, until the omni-tool beeped again, and she slid off the bed to go and find it. It turned out to have been tossed aside inside her kit bag, twisted around a t-shirt. She slid it onto her arm, turned it on, and looked for new messages. It was sitting at the top of the list, unread, and certainly wasn't to do with galactic peril.
She opened it, and sat down heavily as she read it. When she was finished, she stared out of the window at the sea, lost in recollections. She had no idea how long she was out there, but she realised it was more than a few minutes when something touched on her shoulders and she jumped. It was only Kaidan, of course, his fingers on her shoulders and a concerned expression on his face.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
She took a deep breath as he sat down. "No, I suppose not," she said, and held out her arm, wreathed with holography. He gently grasped her wrist, turning her arm so that he could properly see the display. He stiffened with surprise as he read through.
"Is this-?"
She nodded. "The last thing I can do for Ash. The only thing. I had political cachet from the Siege, and from elevating humanity to the Council. I figured I might as well use it before the wind changed and I wound up on the outs."
It was a note from a member of the Alliance parliament, co-signed by a member of the Admiralty, regarding her request for a posthumous pardon for the grandfather of Ashley Williams, especially in light of his granddaughter's sacrifice in the fight against Saren for the preservation of all sentient races, especially humans. They'd considered it carefully, the message said, and they'd agreed. Shepard knew perfectly well that they realised it would come across very badly to the public to have humanity's only Spectre be turned down for a request on behalf of a crewmember who'd given their life, when said Spectre was being hailed as a hero by all and sundry.
She flicked her wrist, shutting the omni-tool down.
"You know," she said, giving voice to the feelings that had been running through her mind only moments before, "When I die the politicians and Admirals are going to love it. It'll be a great networking opportunity. They'll all come and sympathise and shake their heads and say what a terrible loss it is for humanity." She turned and looked Kaidan in the eye. "When I go, I want the same as we did for Ash. Friends, expensive booze, and fuck the politics."
He didn't do her the disservice of pretending that would never happen. He just smiled, perhaps a little sadly, and kissed her on the cheek. "Promise," he said. "But I do have one question."
She nodded slightly. "Ask."
He drew a breath, a little unsteadily, she thought. She was leaning against him, her arm against his chest. Not an easy question to ask, and she had a sneaking suspicion what it might be.
"You never answered, when I asked before," he said, slowly, watching her reaction closely, "Why did you save me and not Ash? Was it because of... of this?" He touched her cheek with a finger briefly.
She sighed, looking down at the omni-tool interface still around her forearm. She slid it off and toyed with it as a distraction. "Are you sure you want to know? You may not like the answer."
She could feel him stiffening, preparing himself for the answer. He probably thought he knew what she was going to say. She hated to disillusion him, but he'd asked, and she refused to treat him like a child by refusing to answer. They weren't in a briefing room where she could dismiss his concerns with a sharp word and 'that's an order'. "Ash was a soldier, through and through. A very competent one." Unable to sit there, and feel the way his body reacted to her words, she stood, with the excuse of stowing her omni-tool again. "High scores, field stripped a weapon under a third the required time. She liked poetry and had the same drill instructor as I did. And then there's you."
She turned, leaning against the table and folding her arms, as if she weren't standing there naked, and the gesture was a pointless one. "You're an officer, a Lieutenant in the Alliance navy. You're a biotic, a powerful one, an L2 with minimal side effects. You're an effective and skilled technician, highly competent in combat against weaponised machines. You represent an investment of hundreds of thousands of credits in training and implant tech alone." She set her jaw, looking at him hard so that not a single word was lost. "Simply put, Lieutenant Alenko, I judged your life to be more valuable than hers. If that makes me a cold bitch, then so be it."
He looked away from her for a long moment, out of the window at the sea. She fought the urge to fidget while she waited for him to make up his mind. Eventually he stood, walked over to her, and put his arms around her. "If you'd told me it was because of us," he said, sincerely, "I probably wouldn't have forgiven you."
She smiled at him, and let him pull her into a warm embrace. She still hadn't figured out the puzzle that was her feelings for Kaidan, or why he'd managed to worm his way inside her heart, but one thing was certain:
He was never finding out that she had lied.
**
Seven
**
Joker stifled a yawn as he handed the helm over to the second shift, stretching his limbs for the first time since he'd started his shift. It was easier to stay seated than get up and down for breaks all day, so he tended to settle himself in for the duration whenever he worked. He also tended to hang around a few minutes longer during a shift change. It was easier to move around if he didn't have to fight the other crew coming off and on shift. One misplaced elbow, he tumbled to the ground and there went his leg. Chakwas kept muttering things about how a variant on Shepard's bone-weave might be therapeutically beneficial for Vroliks, but as far as Joker was concerned, a couple of broken bones every now and then didn't make getting turned into a cyborg worthwhile. He sometimes wasn't sure how Shepard dealt with it.
Speak of the devil. Shepard was standing in the open door to the armoury, having some sort of conversation with Jacob. The way he was looking at her-
He snorted. "Aww, how cute."
He hadn't meant for anyone to hear him, but Yeoman Edwards was at her station, and her head came up at Joker's comment. She followed his gaze and said, "Ah," distinctly.
He looked at her. "What do you mean 'ah'?"
"Nothing," she said, hastily, and looked down at her console.
"Kelly..."
"Joker?"
He sighed, took his cap off to scratch his head, and put it back on. "Not making it easy are you?"
Kelly smiled sweetly at him. "Don't know what you're talking about."
"Like hell, Miss Shrink," he said, rolling his eyes. He liked Kelly ok, but he always had the feeling that if she stared at him too long, she'd start dissecting his brain or something. "I mean Jacob. And the Commander."
Kelly looked at the pair of them. Jacob had gestured to something in the armoury, and Shepard followed him inside. The door slid shut behind them.
"You think they're together?" she asked.
"You don't?" He folded his arms, leaning against the edge of the consoles better to look at her. "I've seen the way he looks at her. He's besotted."
"Yeah," Kelly said, "Poor man."
He leaned in close, lowering his voice. "You do know something."
Kelly bit her lip, but Joker was counting on the instinct to gossip. She wasn't formally the ship's psychologist, it was just a useful skill that she put at Shepard's disposal. Joker could see the moment when her resolve broke, and she turned towards him, leaning closer so that they couldn't be overheard gossiping in the middle of the CIC. "I think Jacob likes her. Really likes her."
"Who doesn't?" Joker said with a huff of laughter.
"Exactly," Kelly said, "Shepard has this... magnetic aura. She's good at getting people on her side. Really good. Always knows what to say, how to talk, even her body language changes depending on who she speaks to. People respond well to that. Some... respond even better than others."
Joker drew back ever so slightly. "So, what, you think she's manipulating him?"
"No!" Kelly looked around guiltily and dropped her voice back down into the hushed tones they'd be using. "I think she's charming, warm and... very lonely."
"Lonely," he echoed.
"She's been dead two years," Kelly reminded him, "The world's changed. Everyone she knew is different. Except for you, and I don't know if you're aware how important that connection is to her."
He didn't know, actually, but didn't say anything.
"She's suffering an intense sense of dislocation. Places are different, people are different. Imagine going to bed one night and when you woke up in the morning, everything you know had changed. The places you lived gone, friends and lovers treating you like a stranger."
Joker frowned, and while he understood what Kelly was saying, he realised that he couldn't actually imagine that happening to himself. It just seemed too alien a concept to deal with, too strange and-
Oh.
"Jacob cares about her loneliness," Kelly continued, "He cares about her. She likes that feeling. But I think she's... well... I think she's hung up on someone else. She likes the attention, but if he wants something serious, it's not gonna happen."
Kelly bit her lip. "I've said too much. I should get back to work."
He tried for a few more minutes to get something out of her, but she refused to budge, so he headed down to the mess, mulling things over. Once he'd sat down with a try of food, he opened his omni-tool, and stared at the message he'd received a while ago, but hadn't known exactly how to respond to.
Joker, it started. Bored yet of running freighters through the Traverse? I'll never understand you.
It wasn't that Joker liked lying to an old friend, but he wasn't about to say 'Hey, guess what, I work for Cerberus now, you know those people who murdered all those folks that we spent a while chasing down?'. So he lied. Cerberus had put a very convincing false trail in place that made it look like he was piloting freighters around the Traverse for Yellow Dawn Shipping. That the company was a Cerberus subsidiary just made it easier. He very carefully never made mention of anything incriminating in his personal mail outside of the organisation, pretty convinced that everything was monitored, but he didn't want to risk Alenko's life by him becoming curious and looking into what Joker was doing.
I suppose I have no idea how to say this, so the most straightforward way is probably the best. Shepard's alive. I saw her while I was on a mission. She's working for Cerberus. I can't understand how she can be the same woman I fell for and be working for Cerberus.
That, oddly enough, hurt a bit.
I don't know what she's been doing for two years, but I'd watch yourself. If you run into her out there just know that she's got some shadowy backers these days. It scares me a bit, but what was worse was how I looked at her and realised that I never really stopped loving her. Is that sad? Two years of her being dead and I couldn't get over her? She's changed though, something... basic. I can't explain it. I think she's taller, for one.
I know you felt guilty about her death, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't blame you just a bit. If I ever made you feel worse about that, I'm sorry. I guess I didn't even realise how much it hurt until I saw her again. I'd managed to make myself forget. Even dated for a bit, even if it didn't feel like it was when I was with her, but no relationship ever matches up with others, right? I wonder if she ever really cared.
I'm rambling. Take care of yourself, Joker.
Kaidan
Joker stared at the message a long time. He opened the reply window.
I think she loved you then, and I'm willing to bet she loves you now. You know her better than anyone, man. You really think she's dangerous? Joker thought about it, then erased the last word.
You really think she's untrustworthy? I wouldn't want anyone else saving the human race.
He had no idea if that would get past the Cerberus censors, but he kinda hoped that Kaidan got the message.
I know how it was with you when she died. Don't let the chance you have slip by.
**
Eight
**
They sat in the Normandy's mess, two cups of coffee long since gone cold sitting between them. Late in the 'night' shift, there wasn't anyone walking around, but they kept their voices low out of deference to the risk of anyone walking by and overhearing them.
"Can I ask you a personal question?"
Shepard's mouth quirked into a smile. "Kaidan," she murmured, "Considering how much of yourself, your past, you've revealed to me, it would probably be very churlish of me to say no."
He gave her a lopsided smile, one that made the muscles in her abdomen clench; the one that made her tuck her legs under her chair a little bit further to hide any shifting motions she might have made. "That wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me, would it?"
"So ask." She turned the mug in front of her between her hands, just to give them something to do.
He leaned back briefly, studying her. Nerves fluttered vaguely in her stomach, but she held her tongue, waiting. Finally, he said, "Why does no one, not even that gang scum that tried to corner you on the Citadel, call you by your first name?"
She let out a breath she hadn't even realised she'd been holding, more nervous about what he could have asked her than she'd realised. "That's all?" she said, teasingly, though she dropped her eyes to the stagnant liquid in her mug, not quite able to look at him while she spoke. "You're not going to ask me about my childhood, or what it was like to be one woman against Thresher Maws out to eat me for breakfast?"
He leaned forward, and touched one finger to the back of her hand briefly to get her attention. She felt the afterimage of the touch even though it was brief and hardly anything to write to a Court Martial board about. He was still smiling, gently. "If you want to tell me, I'll listen, but I know as well as anyone that you shouldn't have to talk about those things if you don't want to."
Guilt twisted at her for a moment. "I didn't mean to make you-"
He stopped her with a raised hand. "I said 'if you don't want to' didn't I? I wanted to."
"Alright," she said, "But why no one uses my first name is hardly on the same order of things. It seems a bit one-sided, this personal stuff."
"I'm curious," Kaidan admitted.
She laughed slightly and shrugged. "It really isn't very interesting. The sign-up form has two spaces for a name. First and last. I made it up. I was always just 'Shepard' before that."
She'd thought it was a fairly simple answer, but his forehead creased in slight confusion. "I... I guess I don't get it," he said, "You... don't have a first name?"
"According to my file I do," she said, waving her hand in the air vaguely, as if to indicate the information in the ether. "But if I've got a birth certificate anywhere, it's probably not the same one. I was always Shepard, growing up. Don't know if that was my parent's surname, but it was what I got called. I didn't need more than that, until I found myself in the waiting area of an Alliance recruiting station, staring at the 'first name' bit of the form and wondering what to put."
"So how'd you come up with it?"
"Well..." She hesitated, wondering whether telling him would destroy her big-bad-scary-spectre image, but the way he had his head propped on his hand, grinning, told her that it might be a bit too late. "One of the other girls there to sign up had this fashion magazine. I asked if I could borrow it and, uh..." She took a deep breath and plunged on. "I flipped through until I found a picture of a model I liked and used her name."
Kaidan's brow furrowed. "So your name..."
"... is really some model's name." She grinned and shook her head, "Not that I ever use it for anything other than my login. She was blonde and way too thin. But I thought it would have looked weird on the form. It didn't occur to me that I could have explained and they probably would have just let me leave it blank, or just used a default name as filler."
She leaned forward and lowered her voice, "Anyway. I think 'Commander' works just fine as a first name, right?"
"Bit awkward to call out in a fit of passion, isn't it?" She half expected him to back down after uttering such a blatantly flirtatious statement, but he stared back at her, unblinkingly, and, underneath the table, she locked her ankles together.
"I suppose so..." she said, half-whispering, "I think just 'Shepard' works for that."
Kaidan tilted his head slowly and smiled. "I'll bear that in mind."
**
Nine
**
Shepard felt freer than she had in months, like a stifling tightness around her chest had suddenly been removed, letting her take deep, gulping breaths of air. One Collector base destroyed, one Illusive man comprehensively told to fuck off, one ship's crew saved, one team emerged from 'certain death'.
All in all, it felt like a damned good day.
Of course, there was the minor factor of a soon-to-be-coming invasion of cosmic horrors, but somehow that hadn't managed to dampen her spirits too much. She'd stared at the readouts of purloined Reaper data for a while, before turning to the others, who were gathered around, no doubt waiting for her to say something profound, and all she'd managed was to wave the datapad in the air and gleefully say,
"Who's up for kicking some ancient tentacled ass?"
Jack, of all people, had thrown up her hands and only said, "What, right now? You're fucking crazy, woman."
From her, Shepard took it as quite a compliment.
Of course, the adrenaline and flush of success would wear off in pretty short order, she was certain. But it had all been worth it to see Miranda start giggling at the absurdity of the situation, burying her face in her hands, her shoulder's shaking, until Shepard had started to wonder if she was crying. Before long the entire lot of them were laughing with something approaching hysteria, except for Zaeed and Samara, who looked exasperated and fond, respectively.
She'd checked in with her crew, who were traumatised to varying degrees from being kidnapped by the Collectors. By far the worst off was poor Kelly, who seemed to have taken a severe emotional battering from the whole experience. All Shepard could do was to give her a hug, and promise to be there if she needed to talk.
"Isn't that my line?" Kelly asked, surreptitiously trying to wipe away her tears.
"I think I know a thing or two about surviving horrible experiences," she just said, and told Kelly to call on her any time she needed talk. She wasn't sure how, but Kelly had managed to worm her way into the ranks of her 'friends' without her noticing.
The fish were all dead in her quarters, of course. They'd died when EDI had opened all the airlocks and spaced the Collectors. What was frankly worrying was that the hamster was still there, contentedly chewing on a stick of carrot.
"I know what you're up to," she told it, "Don't think I don't. I've got my eye on you."
"Squeak," the hamster said, innocently.
She walked around her quarters for a time, righting the books and datapads that had slid to the floor during the less-than-textbook docking with the Collector base. Some of the little ship models she'd indulged in were broken. She contemplated not bothering to replace them. She'd been in the military most of her life, and she'd never bothered to accumulate possessions. It had never been practical when you were posted on ships that only gave you a sleeper pod and a locker to call your own. The only real possession she'd cared for was a datapad with correspondence, music, and pictures stored on it, and that had gone down with the Normandy, over Alchera.
She'd searched the crash site for it, but hadn't found anything, of course.
Shepard was willing to admit that she might have gone a little crazy with the personal belongings with the unaccustomed freedoms allowed on a civilian ship. A lot of it was junk, for the most part. Except for the helmet, and the only photo she had...
She'd felt like a sentimental idiot when she'd done a cursory sweep of Cerberus's database for details on her old crew, copying the file photo of Kaidan Alenko over to a stand-alone frame. Of course, she'd still done it, and left it there to look at every time she sat down at her desk, which she did now, fingers moving of their own volition over the communications system.
Something occurred to her. "EDI?"
The AI's abstract holographic avatar sprung into being in the corner of the room. "Yes, Shepard?"
She frowned. "Are all our communications still being copied to the Illusive Man?"
"No, Shepard. Jeff had me strip those algorithms from the communications system immediately after your last communication with the Illusive Man."
Shepard felt her lips twitch into a smile. Trust Joker. "Thank you, EDI."
"Logging you out, Shepard."
With nothing to stop her, she regarded the dim-orange glow of the terminal screen with something akin to apprehension. Then she reminded herself that she and her crew had just kicked an ancient space-faring evil squarely in the balls, and if she wasn't going to do something rash and impulsive today, then she never would.
She opened the 'new message' screen and started writing.
Kaidan...
** The End **
Author: Jewels (
bjewelled)Fandom: Mass Effect
Disclaimer: Mass Effect is the property of Bioware. So is the hamster.
Summary: When you put chronology of a relationship in a blender, and take a look at what's left over, you probably wind up with something like this. Nine excerpts from the relationship.
Author's Notes: Gah, it's been a long time since I've written something this overtly romantic. Although romantic is probably the wrong word to use here. It just started as something to keep me busy while I was playing ME2, to keep my brain from continually running through the off-screen scenarios. And then at some point I decided to keep writing them and, if not turn it into a story, turn it into a collection of little vignettes that entertained me. I shan't bore you by explaining my character choices. If you've played the games, you can probably pick up what I decided.
Spoilers: Heavy, for both games so far.
Word Count: 14, 379
From the start...
**
Five
**
"Please tell me you fed the fish."
"I fed your fish." Yeoman Kelly Edwards said, promptly, as she followed Shepard into the Captain's quarters aboard the Normandy SR2. Shepard was working at the seals of her armour, and had managed to wedge two fingers into the neck seal, starting to unlatch it when she stopped dead just inside the door. Kelly only just stopped before walking nose first into the back of her CO.
"Kelly," Shepard said.
"Yes, Commander?"
"If you fed the fish, where are they?"
Kelly fidgeted with the pad in her hands. "Well, I came in to feed the fish like you asked," she said, "And I fed them."
Shepard turned, quirking an eyebrow. "And?" she prompted.
"And then I realised the food wouldn't do much for them as they were sort of dead."
"Sort of?"
Kelly tried a smile. "Very dead?"
Shepard threw her hands up in the air. "That's it. I'm done with fish. I'm just going to contemplate the seaweed. Please tell me why Cerberus thought a fishtank was a good idea in the Captain's quarters?"
"Fish are relaxing," Kelly pointed out, "It's why they're kept in medical waiting rooms."
"Great. I'll give Chakwas the damned fish." Shepard returned to fidgeting with the suit seals. "Dammit, I think one of those geth husks shorted out the releases. Couldn't give me a hand, could you?"
"Look at it this way," Kelly said, as she set the pad down on the desk, next to the computer console, "At least the hamster's still kicking it."
Shepard turned her back on Kelly, giving her access to the rear seals and the power-plant connectors. Kelly had never been training beyond basic instruction in combat gear, couldn't imagine being as comfortable with it as Shepard clearly was. The releases were fiddly even with both hands free, it seemed to demand two more fingers than she possessed, but after some digital contortions, there was a soft click, and the seals released, the suit powering down with an almost inaudible whine.
Kelly caught the torso armour before it thudded to the floor, turning to set it on the floor. When she turned back, Shepard had managed to remove the rest of the exterior plating, leaving only the thin underlayer that left nothing to the imagination. Shepard was clearly someone who was comfortable with her own body, as she kept talking even as she pulled the underlayer free, carefully pulling it away from the exposed bits of cybertech on her body.
"The hamster," Shepard said, oblivious to Kelly's regard, "Is clearly a mutant Cerberus spy who watches me sleep."
"Squeak." The hamster seemed to agree, nose sticking out of his little cardboard house.
"Paranoid about surveillance," Kelly asked, careful to inject a note of teasing into her voice, "Now that is interesting."
"Less of that, young lady," Shepard said, wagging her finger as she pulled on a ground. Kelly was careful not to give any more regard to the cybertech connectors than to Shepard's face. "What do you have to report?"
Kelly walked back to the desk, picking up her pad. "You have new messages awaiting you at your private terminal," she said, "Status reports from all departments have been filed and waiting for your review. No red flags, though Engineering have highlighted that the portside cargobay could use a new CO2 scrubber. No rush, it's just the one in there is apparently a little troublesome."
"Anything else?"
"Operative Lawson asked to speak to you when you were back aboard. She's in her office."
Shepard sighed ever so slightly. "Yes, fine. Tell Miranda I'll be there as soon as I have a minute."
"Yes, Commander," Kelly said, making a note on her pad.
She didn't intend to be nosy, she really didn't, but she was a psychologist by training, and one didn't take up such a skill by being a wallflower who never sought about information about those around them. So when she had finished with her pad and Shepard hadn't dismissed her, she looked down at the desk.
Personal terminal, a fiction novel, files, a medal stand, indicating that she takes pride in her accomplishments, even if they have been done whilst under the aegis of Cerberus, and a photograph...
Kelly waved a hand, and the proximity sensor in the frame picked up the gesture, bringing up the image it contained. A rather handsome young man, military uniform just visible at the bottom of the frame, a generic non-personal photo, garnered from public news sources or possibly Cerberus intelligence. She recognised him.
Kelly suddenly realised that Shepard wasn't speaking. She brought her head up, ready to apologise if Shepard thought that she was out of bounds, but Shepard was instead leaning against the desk's edge, staring thoughtfully at the photo.
Kelly watched her CO, took careful note of the way that her fingers absently rearranged the folds of her gown to cover the exposed tech connectors, hiding them from sight. Curious. She was confident enough with her body with someone who only counted as a female friend at best, but the thought of this particular man seeing those connectors fuelled an unconscious embarrassment.
"He's very handsome," Kelly said.
"Yes," Shepard said, then shook herself and smiled in a way that didn't reach her eyes, "But between gene mods and regular workouts, a lot of men in the Alliance military are."
Shepard hadn't shut her down yet, and she'd admitted her feelings about her old Lieutenant easily enough. Kelly took the risk of pushing a little further. "So what did attract you to Commander Alenko?"
Shepard didn't answer directly. She just smiled ruefully. "I always knew he'd make Commander," she commented.
A belief that even from a bad start in life, he would achieve equal status with her. So very similar to Shepard's own past, the same story but with different actors and sets. The feeling of finding a kindred spirit, enhanced by the thrill of possible death during the pursuit of Saren. A short but intense courtship.
Kelly didn't say anything. Sometimes her analytical brain really killed the romance in a situation.
Finally Shepard straightened, as if rousing herself from a daydream. "That'll be all, Ensign."
"Aye, Commander," Kelly said, tucking her pad into the crook of her arm, and heading out promptly, before Shepard grew uncomfortable and made it harder for her to open up to Kelly in the future. But she did look back in time to see Shepard reach for the photoframe before the door slid shut, blocking her view.
**
Six
**
The warm breeze from Mirage's vast seas blew in through the open windows. It carried a heady scent of tropical flowers mingled with the freshness of the water. Every planet and moon had its own smell, and Shepard had thought, the moment she'd first set foot on the tropical moon, that she rather liked this one. Not that she was paying much attention to it at that moment. The breeze drifted across her naked body, deliciously cooling as it whispered across damp, sweaty skin.
"You," she said, as she caught her breath, "Have been holding out on me."
Kaidan grinned at her, bending his head to kiss her, and when she was thoroughly distracted, rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. She found herself giggling (giggling! Her!) like some sort of schoolgirl, but couldn't bring herself to be too bothered about that.
He really had surprised his with his enthusiasm, and inventiveness. She supposed it wasn't so surprising. There was no longer the crushing fear that tomorrow would bring death or the failure to prevent Sovereign from destroying known space, and here, far away from the Citadel, the Alliance, rules and regulations, with another biotic who had no fear of him or his 'strange' abilities, he showed himself to be surprisingly uninhibited.
The crew of the Normandy had been 'required' to take a month's shore leave. Shepard could think of several reasons why off the top of her head. It kept them dispersed, off the press radar, where it was much harder for them to speak up and rally any sort of public support, given that they were being hailed as heroes. The Council wanted them out of the way while they rebuilt their base of power, and reasserted control over known space, reassuring the populace that they weren't all about to die. It wouldn't be good if the Spectre who saved the Council was giving soundbites that contradicted the party line. The Alliance wanted to study the damage to the ship and the Mako, to figure out a defence against the geth and Reaper weapons, and wanted to keep separate a crew that had shown more loyalty to its commander than its orders.
Shepard hadn't raised an objection, but then she had her own selfish reasons. She'd seeded rumours and electronic breadcrumbs that sent anyone looking for her to the other side of known space. If anyone caught her, she'd claim that she was seeking privacy, and as a Spectre she only truly answered to the Council, who couldn't care less where she vacationed. If someone saw a passenger manifest of the transfer to Mirage, they might see a 'Miss Lamb' on the roster, but not find anything odd about it.
"Couldn't have you making so much noise back on the ship," Kaidan said, teasingly, as he smoothed his hand down her back. "Adams might have thought something was broken."
"That's insubordination, mister." Alright, so maybe she had become a tad uninhibited herself.
"Yes, Commander," he said, with a grin.
Part of her was telling her, in the quiet moments when she actually had a chance to give this affair any thought, that this was some silly infatuation, that shipboard romances never lasted and, besides, did they really know each other well enough that this was anything more than a physical compatibility enhanced by a shared fight against an apparently indomitable enemy?
Shepard didn't kid herself. She knew she looked good, though her haircut was more a practical one than anything, and she never saw the point in wearing makeup. She ran around in gravities ranging from non-existent to semi-crushing, and had to be athletic and built hardily enough to handle whatever the galaxy decided to throw at her next. She knew how to turn a phrase, learnt how the moment she'd figured out that the dumb fucks who couldn't reason their way out of a paperbag wound up out of their skulls on Red Sand, cannon fodder for the gang bosses.
Of course, that same part of her life had taught her the value of her body, and how easy it could be to ensnare the hapless. She'd never felt driven enough to use such cheap tricks, valuing words over physicality, but ex-lovers that she'd had in the years of Alliance service had proved that men were suckers for a pretty face and a nice backside, and didn't really care if she had two braincells to rub together. Eventually, she'd just sworn off military partners, not considering it worth the while.
Flirting was different, of course. It was words, another way to turn a situation to the advantage, and could be rather fun besides. Harmless fun, the sort they didn't court martial you over. That's all it was supposed to be with Kaidan, a bit of harmless flirting, taking the pressure away from the undeniably political assignment of catching a rogue Spectre. Yes, there were legitimate reasons it was important to stop Saren, but the Council had called her constantly, and her terminal had filled up with private messages from Ambassador Udina, and Admirals who wanted her to do jobs for them that her newfound 'above the law' status meant that they couldn't get the work done themselves. She was good at politics, but didn't have to like it.
And then suddenly Kaidan had been standing in her quarters and faced with the choice between jumping off the rather precarious cliff that was in front of her, and backing away quickly, she'd leapt without thinking, trusting he'd catch her.
She couldn't actually remember the last time she'd trusted that easily.
No, she did. Henrick, back in basic. The first man who'd ever shown her a bit of kindness in courting her, or so she'd thought, used to the rough nature of the streets. She'd trusted him too readily, and when it turned out he just liked how she looked, and didn't give a shit about anything else, she'd taken it as a learning experience, and not handed out that trust so readily again. Sex was easy, faith was something she didn't care to place in anyone. She'd knew she'd suffered for lack of friends because of it. Her circle of companions generally consisted of her shipmates at any given time. If any of her former partners had been aboard her ship, come to her the night before a dangerous mission, she would have smiled, pointed out the regs about the CO of a ship fraternising with the crew, and sent them on their way.
But not Kaidan. It was something of a fiendish puzzle that she couldn't work out.
There was a noise, just on the edge of her hearing, a beep of a message alert.
She sighed, starting to pull away and sit up, to find wherever it was she'd stashed the omni-tool and check what was so important. Kaidan, however, was somewhat reluctant to let her go. He snaked arms around her waist and pulled her back down before she could get away.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked her, pressing his lips against her neck, making her shiver even in the warmth of the air.
"The galaxy could be in peril," she said, "Civilisation as we know it might be on the verge of falling."
"What a pity," he murmured, "We'll be stuck on this tropical moon forever. Real pity."
She chuckled and tugged his hair, pulling his head back gently. "You'd miss the extranet," she said, "Don't think I don't know that anything with a Y chromosome is looking at porn on that thing."
"That's true," he said, "You'd better answer that. Can't deprive the galaxy of porn."
She kissed him, firmly, until the omni-tool beeped again, and she slid off the bed to go and find it. It turned out to have been tossed aside inside her kit bag, twisted around a t-shirt. She slid it onto her arm, turned it on, and looked for new messages. It was sitting at the top of the list, unread, and certainly wasn't to do with galactic peril.
She opened it, and sat down heavily as she read it. When she was finished, she stared out of the window at the sea, lost in recollections. She had no idea how long she was out there, but she realised it was more than a few minutes when something touched on her shoulders and she jumped. It was only Kaidan, of course, his fingers on her shoulders and a concerned expression on his face.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
She took a deep breath as he sat down. "No, I suppose not," she said, and held out her arm, wreathed with holography. He gently grasped her wrist, turning her arm so that he could properly see the display. He stiffened with surprise as he read through.
"Is this-?"
She nodded. "The last thing I can do for Ash. The only thing. I had political cachet from the Siege, and from elevating humanity to the Council. I figured I might as well use it before the wind changed and I wound up on the outs."
It was a note from a member of the Alliance parliament, co-signed by a member of the Admiralty, regarding her request for a posthumous pardon for the grandfather of Ashley Williams, especially in light of his granddaughter's sacrifice in the fight against Saren for the preservation of all sentient races, especially humans. They'd considered it carefully, the message said, and they'd agreed. Shepard knew perfectly well that they realised it would come across very badly to the public to have humanity's only Spectre be turned down for a request on behalf of a crewmember who'd given their life, when said Spectre was being hailed as a hero by all and sundry.
She flicked her wrist, shutting the omni-tool down.
"You know," she said, giving voice to the feelings that had been running through her mind only moments before, "When I die the politicians and Admirals are going to love it. It'll be a great networking opportunity. They'll all come and sympathise and shake their heads and say what a terrible loss it is for humanity." She turned and looked Kaidan in the eye. "When I go, I want the same as we did for Ash. Friends, expensive booze, and fuck the politics."
He didn't do her the disservice of pretending that would never happen. He just smiled, perhaps a little sadly, and kissed her on the cheek. "Promise," he said. "But I do have one question."
She nodded slightly. "Ask."
He drew a breath, a little unsteadily, she thought. She was leaning against him, her arm against his chest. Not an easy question to ask, and she had a sneaking suspicion what it might be.
"You never answered, when I asked before," he said, slowly, watching her reaction closely, "Why did you save me and not Ash? Was it because of... of this?" He touched her cheek with a finger briefly.
She sighed, looking down at the omni-tool interface still around her forearm. She slid it off and toyed with it as a distraction. "Are you sure you want to know? You may not like the answer."
She could feel him stiffening, preparing himself for the answer. He probably thought he knew what she was going to say. She hated to disillusion him, but he'd asked, and she refused to treat him like a child by refusing to answer. They weren't in a briefing room where she could dismiss his concerns with a sharp word and 'that's an order'. "Ash was a soldier, through and through. A very competent one." Unable to sit there, and feel the way his body reacted to her words, she stood, with the excuse of stowing her omni-tool again. "High scores, field stripped a weapon under a third the required time. She liked poetry and had the same drill instructor as I did. And then there's you."
She turned, leaning against the table and folding her arms, as if she weren't standing there naked, and the gesture was a pointless one. "You're an officer, a Lieutenant in the Alliance navy. You're a biotic, a powerful one, an L2 with minimal side effects. You're an effective and skilled technician, highly competent in combat against weaponised machines. You represent an investment of hundreds of thousands of credits in training and implant tech alone." She set her jaw, looking at him hard so that not a single word was lost. "Simply put, Lieutenant Alenko, I judged your life to be more valuable than hers. If that makes me a cold bitch, then so be it."
He looked away from her for a long moment, out of the window at the sea. She fought the urge to fidget while she waited for him to make up his mind. Eventually he stood, walked over to her, and put his arms around her. "If you'd told me it was because of us," he said, sincerely, "I probably wouldn't have forgiven you."
She smiled at him, and let him pull her into a warm embrace. She still hadn't figured out the puzzle that was her feelings for Kaidan, or why he'd managed to worm his way inside her heart, but one thing was certain:
He was never finding out that she had lied.
**
Seven
**
Joker stifled a yawn as he handed the helm over to the second shift, stretching his limbs for the first time since he'd started his shift. It was easier to stay seated than get up and down for breaks all day, so he tended to settle himself in for the duration whenever he worked. He also tended to hang around a few minutes longer during a shift change. It was easier to move around if he didn't have to fight the other crew coming off and on shift. One misplaced elbow, he tumbled to the ground and there went his leg. Chakwas kept muttering things about how a variant on Shepard's bone-weave might be therapeutically beneficial for Vroliks, but as far as Joker was concerned, a couple of broken bones every now and then didn't make getting turned into a cyborg worthwhile. He sometimes wasn't sure how Shepard dealt with it.
Speak of the devil. Shepard was standing in the open door to the armoury, having some sort of conversation with Jacob. The way he was looking at her-
He snorted. "Aww, how cute."
He hadn't meant for anyone to hear him, but Yeoman Edwards was at her station, and her head came up at Joker's comment. She followed his gaze and said, "Ah," distinctly.
He looked at her. "What do you mean 'ah'?"
"Nothing," she said, hastily, and looked down at her console.
"Kelly..."
"Joker?"
He sighed, took his cap off to scratch his head, and put it back on. "Not making it easy are you?"
Kelly smiled sweetly at him. "Don't know what you're talking about."
"Like hell, Miss Shrink," he said, rolling his eyes. He liked Kelly ok, but he always had the feeling that if she stared at him too long, she'd start dissecting his brain or something. "I mean Jacob. And the Commander."
Kelly looked at the pair of them. Jacob had gestured to something in the armoury, and Shepard followed him inside. The door slid shut behind them.
"You think they're together?" she asked.
"You don't?" He folded his arms, leaning against the edge of the consoles better to look at her. "I've seen the way he looks at her. He's besotted."
"Yeah," Kelly said, "Poor man."
He leaned in close, lowering his voice. "You do know something."
Kelly bit her lip, but Joker was counting on the instinct to gossip. She wasn't formally the ship's psychologist, it was just a useful skill that she put at Shepard's disposal. Joker could see the moment when her resolve broke, and she turned towards him, leaning closer so that they couldn't be overheard gossiping in the middle of the CIC. "I think Jacob likes her. Really likes her."
"Who doesn't?" Joker said with a huff of laughter.
"Exactly," Kelly said, "Shepard has this... magnetic aura. She's good at getting people on her side. Really good. Always knows what to say, how to talk, even her body language changes depending on who she speaks to. People respond well to that. Some... respond even better than others."
Joker drew back ever so slightly. "So, what, you think she's manipulating him?"
"No!" Kelly looked around guiltily and dropped her voice back down into the hushed tones they'd be using. "I think she's charming, warm and... very lonely."
"Lonely," he echoed.
"She's been dead two years," Kelly reminded him, "The world's changed. Everyone she knew is different. Except for you, and I don't know if you're aware how important that connection is to her."
He didn't know, actually, but didn't say anything.
"She's suffering an intense sense of dislocation. Places are different, people are different. Imagine going to bed one night and when you woke up in the morning, everything you know had changed. The places you lived gone, friends and lovers treating you like a stranger."
Joker frowned, and while he understood what Kelly was saying, he realised that he couldn't actually imagine that happening to himself. It just seemed too alien a concept to deal with, too strange and-
Oh.
"Jacob cares about her loneliness," Kelly continued, "He cares about her. She likes that feeling. But I think she's... well... I think she's hung up on someone else. She likes the attention, but if he wants something serious, it's not gonna happen."
Kelly bit her lip. "I've said too much. I should get back to work."
He tried for a few more minutes to get something out of her, but she refused to budge, so he headed down to the mess, mulling things over. Once he'd sat down with a try of food, he opened his omni-tool, and stared at the message he'd received a while ago, but hadn't known exactly how to respond to.
Joker, it started. Bored yet of running freighters through the Traverse? I'll never understand you.
It wasn't that Joker liked lying to an old friend, but he wasn't about to say 'Hey, guess what, I work for Cerberus now, you know those people who murdered all those folks that we spent a while chasing down?'. So he lied. Cerberus had put a very convincing false trail in place that made it look like he was piloting freighters around the Traverse for Yellow Dawn Shipping. That the company was a Cerberus subsidiary just made it easier. He very carefully never made mention of anything incriminating in his personal mail outside of the organisation, pretty convinced that everything was monitored, but he didn't want to risk Alenko's life by him becoming curious and looking into what Joker was doing.
I suppose I have no idea how to say this, so the most straightforward way is probably the best. Shepard's alive. I saw her while I was on a mission. She's working for Cerberus. I can't understand how she can be the same woman I fell for and be working for Cerberus.
That, oddly enough, hurt a bit.
I don't know what she's been doing for two years, but I'd watch yourself. If you run into her out there just know that she's got some shadowy backers these days. It scares me a bit, but what was worse was how I looked at her and realised that I never really stopped loving her. Is that sad? Two years of her being dead and I couldn't get over her? She's changed though, something... basic. I can't explain it. I think she's taller, for one.
I know you felt guilty about her death, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't blame you just a bit. If I ever made you feel worse about that, I'm sorry. I guess I didn't even realise how much it hurt until I saw her again. I'd managed to make myself forget. Even dated for a bit, even if it didn't feel like it was when I was with her, but no relationship ever matches up with others, right? I wonder if she ever really cared.
I'm rambling. Take care of yourself, Joker.
Kaidan
Joker stared at the message a long time. He opened the reply window.
I think she loved you then, and I'm willing to bet she loves you now. You know her better than anyone, man. You really think she's dangerous? Joker thought about it, then erased the last word.
You really think she's untrustworthy? I wouldn't want anyone else saving the human race.
He had no idea if that would get past the Cerberus censors, but he kinda hoped that Kaidan got the message.
I know how it was with you when she died. Don't let the chance you have slip by.
**
Eight
**
They sat in the Normandy's mess, two cups of coffee long since gone cold sitting between them. Late in the 'night' shift, there wasn't anyone walking around, but they kept their voices low out of deference to the risk of anyone walking by and overhearing them.
"Can I ask you a personal question?"
Shepard's mouth quirked into a smile. "Kaidan," she murmured, "Considering how much of yourself, your past, you've revealed to me, it would probably be very churlish of me to say no."
He gave her a lopsided smile, one that made the muscles in her abdomen clench; the one that made her tuck her legs under her chair a little bit further to hide any shifting motions she might have made. "That wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me, would it?"
"So ask." She turned the mug in front of her between her hands, just to give them something to do.
He leaned back briefly, studying her. Nerves fluttered vaguely in her stomach, but she held her tongue, waiting. Finally, he said, "Why does no one, not even that gang scum that tried to corner you on the Citadel, call you by your first name?"
She let out a breath she hadn't even realised she'd been holding, more nervous about what he could have asked her than she'd realised. "That's all?" she said, teasingly, though she dropped her eyes to the stagnant liquid in her mug, not quite able to look at him while she spoke. "You're not going to ask me about my childhood, or what it was like to be one woman against Thresher Maws out to eat me for breakfast?"
He leaned forward, and touched one finger to the back of her hand briefly to get her attention. She felt the afterimage of the touch even though it was brief and hardly anything to write to a Court Martial board about. He was still smiling, gently. "If you want to tell me, I'll listen, but I know as well as anyone that you shouldn't have to talk about those things if you don't want to."
Guilt twisted at her for a moment. "I didn't mean to make you-"
He stopped her with a raised hand. "I said 'if you don't want to' didn't I? I wanted to."
"Alright," she said, "But why no one uses my first name is hardly on the same order of things. It seems a bit one-sided, this personal stuff."
"I'm curious," Kaidan admitted.
She laughed slightly and shrugged. "It really isn't very interesting. The sign-up form has two spaces for a name. First and last. I made it up. I was always just 'Shepard' before that."
She'd thought it was a fairly simple answer, but his forehead creased in slight confusion. "I... I guess I don't get it," he said, "You... don't have a first name?"
"According to my file I do," she said, waving her hand in the air vaguely, as if to indicate the information in the ether. "But if I've got a birth certificate anywhere, it's probably not the same one. I was always Shepard, growing up. Don't know if that was my parent's surname, but it was what I got called. I didn't need more than that, until I found myself in the waiting area of an Alliance recruiting station, staring at the 'first name' bit of the form and wondering what to put."
"So how'd you come up with it?"
"Well..." She hesitated, wondering whether telling him would destroy her big-bad-scary-spectre image, but the way he had his head propped on his hand, grinning, told her that it might be a bit too late. "One of the other girls there to sign up had this fashion magazine. I asked if I could borrow it and, uh..." She took a deep breath and plunged on. "I flipped through until I found a picture of a model I liked and used her name."
Kaidan's brow furrowed. "So your name..."
"... is really some model's name." She grinned and shook her head, "Not that I ever use it for anything other than my login. She was blonde and way too thin. But I thought it would have looked weird on the form. It didn't occur to me that I could have explained and they probably would have just let me leave it blank, or just used a default name as filler."
She leaned forward and lowered her voice, "Anyway. I think 'Commander' works just fine as a first name, right?"
"Bit awkward to call out in a fit of passion, isn't it?" She half expected him to back down after uttering such a blatantly flirtatious statement, but he stared back at her, unblinkingly, and, underneath the table, she locked her ankles together.
"I suppose so..." she said, half-whispering, "I think just 'Shepard' works for that."
Kaidan tilted his head slowly and smiled. "I'll bear that in mind."
**
Nine
**
Shepard felt freer than she had in months, like a stifling tightness around her chest had suddenly been removed, letting her take deep, gulping breaths of air. One Collector base destroyed, one Illusive man comprehensively told to fuck off, one ship's crew saved, one team emerged from 'certain death'.
All in all, it felt like a damned good day.
Of course, there was the minor factor of a soon-to-be-coming invasion of cosmic horrors, but somehow that hadn't managed to dampen her spirits too much. She'd stared at the readouts of purloined Reaper data for a while, before turning to the others, who were gathered around, no doubt waiting for her to say something profound, and all she'd managed was to wave the datapad in the air and gleefully say,
"Who's up for kicking some ancient tentacled ass?"
Jack, of all people, had thrown up her hands and only said, "What, right now? You're fucking crazy, woman."
From her, Shepard took it as quite a compliment.
Of course, the adrenaline and flush of success would wear off in pretty short order, she was certain. But it had all been worth it to see Miranda start giggling at the absurdity of the situation, burying her face in her hands, her shoulder's shaking, until Shepard had started to wonder if she was crying. Before long the entire lot of them were laughing with something approaching hysteria, except for Zaeed and Samara, who looked exasperated and fond, respectively.
She'd checked in with her crew, who were traumatised to varying degrees from being kidnapped by the Collectors. By far the worst off was poor Kelly, who seemed to have taken a severe emotional battering from the whole experience. All Shepard could do was to give her a hug, and promise to be there if she needed to talk.
"Isn't that my line?" Kelly asked, surreptitiously trying to wipe away her tears.
"I think I know a thing or two about surviving horrible experiences," she just said, and told Kelly to call on her any time she needed talk. She wasn't sure how, but Kelly had managed to worm her way into the ranks of her 'friends' without her noticing.
The fish were all dead in her quarters, of course. They'd died when EDI had opened all the airlocks and spaced the Collectors. What was frankly worrying was that the hamster was still there, contentedly chewing on a stick of carrot.
"I know what you're up to," she told it, "Don't think I don't. I've got my eye on you."
"Squeak," the hamster said, innocently.
She walked around her quarters for a time, righting the books and datapads that had slid to the floor during the less-than-textbook docking with the Collector base. Some of the little ship models she'd indulged in were broken. She contemplated not bothering to replace them. She'd been in the military most of her life, and she'd never bothered to accumulate possessions. It had never been practical when you were posted on ships that only gave you a sleeper pod and a locker to call your own. The only real possession she'd cared for was a datapad with correspondence, music, and pictures stored on it, and that had gone down with the Normandy, over Alchera.
She'd searched the crash site for it, but hadn't found anything, of course.
Shepard was willing to admit that she might have gone a little crazy with the personal belongings with the unaccustomed freedoms allowed on a civilian ship. A lot of it was junk, for the most part. Except for the helmet, and the only photo she had...
She'd felt like a sentimental idiot when she'd done a cursory sweep of Cerberus's database for details on her old crew, copying the file photo of Kaidan Alenko over to a stand-alone frame. Of course, she'd still done it, and left it there to look at every time she sat down at her desk, which she did now, fingers moving of their own volition over the communications system.
Something occurred to her. "EDI?"
The AI's abstract holographic avatar sprung into being in the corner of the room. "Yes, Shepard?"
She frowned. "Are all our communications still being copied to the Illusive Man?"
"No, Shepard. Jeff had me strip those algorithms from the communications system immediately after your last communication with the Illusive Man."
Shepard felt her lips twitch into a smile. Trust Joker. "Thank you, EDI."
"Logging you out, Shepard."
With nothing to stop her, she regarded the dim-orange glow of the terminal screen with something akin to apprehension. Then she reminded herself that she and her crew had just kicked an ancient space-faring evil squarely in the balls, and if she wasn't going to do something rash and impulsive today, then she never would.
She opened the 'new message' screen and started writing.
Kaidan...
** The End **
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