Work Text:
It was rare that Shepard turned to drink, especially these days. After Mindoir, she picked up a habit of drinking that was far too intense for a young teen, according to her mandated therapist anyway. She slowed once she enlisted with the Alliance, but Akuze brought her to new lows. It took several years to kick to habit, but Shepard was generally clean now. She had a drink now and then, but took great lengths to ensure it never became a habit. This was before she lost two close friends within days of each other.
Tuchanka was hard, harder than other missions she’d been on. Seeing the queen of all Thresher Maws up close and personal, teleported Shepard back to being a 21 year old punk, facing the death of her entire squad by these beasts on Akuze. She had steeled herself, however, and made it into the Shroud, where Mordin was prepping the Genophage cure. Only to leave him to his death but 2 minutes later. Tears were shed, both in the shuttle and back in her quarters, but she had managed to maintain her composure enough to say goodbye to Wrex and Eve (or Urdnot Bakara, as she introduced herself), and to give her report to Hackett.
She had another nightmare when she tried to sleep after that, haunted by not only the voice of Mordin, but of Ashley too, as well as the young boy from Earth she failed to help. She heads to the Citadel, expecting some diplomacy and politics, but not a firefight. Yet she arrives at the Citadel in the middle of a violent coup, watches Commander Bailey be gunned down in front of her, and watches Thane get run through with a katana five minutes later. Kaidan waves a gun in her face, and she manages to save the council and arrive at the hospital just in time to watch another close friend die. All in less than 48 hours, and on less than 4 hours sleep.
So, all things considered, Shepard thought she had earned a drink for that night, hence her standing at the entrance to Purgatory. She put on neutral club attire, bought half an hour prior at the first clothing store she spotted. Her hair was down from its usual military standard bun and was shadowing her face. She even hopped into a cosmetics store and used their samples to apply a coat of dark plum lipstick, the only one out of view of the shop assistant and security cameras. All of this, in the hopes that she wouldn’t be recognised. It wouldn’t have fooled any of her shipmates, who have seen her in various states of dressed up and undress before, but it should have deterred any civilian well-wishers or reporters who might intrude on her moment of privacy.
Walking into the club proper, all of that preparation went out the window when Jack spotted her and waved Shepard down to her table.
“Ugh, this sucks” Jack said, tossing her datapad onto the table.
“What’ve you got there?” Shepard asked, settling herself into the chair opposite.
“Duty roster for the students. It’s what I do for fun now. They’ve got us spread out across Alliance units. Reinforcing barriers, modding ammo, that kind of thing.”
“How are they holding up?” Shepard asked, trying not to let her reluctance show. This was meant to be a selfish night, where she could go get blackout drunk like everyone else on the Citadel, but it would be impolite to act that way to a close friend like Jack.
“They’re fine. They’re not the ones reading duty rosters while on shore leave.” Jack complained, before hesitating, and looking at Shepard intensely. “You look like hell,”
“Exactly what a woman wants to hear the first time out in a new dress,” Shepard replied, throwing a mock glare at her friend.
“Cut the crap Shepard, you know what I mean,” Jack said. “You think a new dress and lipstick is gonna hide those bags under your eyes?”
“Since when were you the type to ask personal questions?”
“Since you kept prying into my life every time we spoke on the Normandy. Now spill. What’s got your girl scout panties in a twist?”
Shepard sighed. “It’s been a long couple of days, Jack. I’m just here to drink and forget, like everyone else.”
Jack studied her for a moment, before leaning back in her seat. “If you wanna do that, then we can party together. God knows you’ve had a stick up your ass for so long, you might need me to remind you how to have fun.”
“Fine,” Shepard laughed, grateful that the topic had been dropped. Getting up from their seats, Jack and Shepard made their way to the upper floor of Purgatory.
Now, Jack would never admit this, but that night, she only stuck around to keep an eye on Shepard. The look in her eyes was something Jack hadn’t seen before, but recognised intimately. Loss. Grief. Both things the commander had experienced, but Jack had never seen her look so profoundly affected by it. It was a dangerous headspace to be in, and in silent repayment of all the times Shepard looked out for her, Jack decided to stick around.
The pair danced and drank for several hours (Jack was paying for once, it seemed like the least she could do) before Jack led Shepard away.
“About time to head back to the ship, right?” Jack asked.
“No! I’m staying longer,” Shepard replied, pulling her hand out of Jack’s.
“C’mon Shepard, I remember your shore leave schedule. You’ve already been out an hour longer than you usually are, it’s time to leave” Jack replied, taking Shepard by the shoulders and walking her out of the club. “Do you want me to order you a cab?”
“Nah, I’ll walk back through the docks, clear my head a bit,” Shepard said.
“Good idea, no good letting your crew see you like this. We’ll meet up soon, okay?” Jack said, hailing a cab for herself.
“For sure,” Shepard called, getting into the elevator, waving as the doors closed.
Jack hopped into her car, giving the driver directions to the Grissom Academy docking bay before it sped off. Ten seconds later, the elevator doors opened once again, revealing Shepard as she checked her companion was gone before heading back into Purgatory.
Settling herself back at the upstairs bar, Shepard helped herself to another drink, putting it on the Normandy’s tab this time. No point using Jack’s tab, as the biotic would surely notice the continuing late night purchases, and no point using her own credits, as she was trying to remain anonymous. Thankfully, Vega and some of the other crew had put together a group ship tab, which they all paid money into at the start of each month. Grabbing a pen off the bar, Shepard scrawled a quick note onto her hand, reminding her to put some money in to repay them. Unfortunately, her state of inebriation meant her penmanship wasn’t exactly readable.
“Another round,” she slurred, causing the Asari bartender to look at her worriedly.
“I think you’ve had enough, honey. You’ve been in here for hours,” The Asari said, before squinting curiously. “Hey, you look kind of familiar-”
Shepard pushed away from the bar with a grunt, turning away from the bartender to head to the lower lounge bar. She started up again, ordering more rounds from the salarian behind the bar, when she started to feel a bit dizzy.
‘Uh oh’ she thought, suddenly realising the risky nature of a woman being black out drunk while alone. She wasn’t worried about potential danger- even while wasted, she knew she could hold her own against a handful of opponents. No, Shepard was worried about what comes after. C-Sec get called, she might get sent to the hospital, and then everyone would know that Commander Shepard was behaving like a teenager, getting dead drunk in a club. No, that wouldn’t be a good look for the Alliance or her mission.
She needed somewhere she could go pass out safely, without some ‘helpful citizen’ calling C-Sec on her. Scanning the club, Shepard looked for a quiet corner to hide away in, before spotting her saving grace. Aria T’Loak, sat in her usual reserved private lounge, boredly looking through datapads. Shepard stumbled over before being held up by Aria's security. The criminal Asari spared a glance her way, before double-taking and allowing the guards to let Shepard through. She stumbled onto the couch, slouching and holding her head.
“Are you drunk?” Aria inquired, looking amused yet irritated at her unexpected disturbance.
“Possibly.” Shepard replied.
“Are you going to throw up in here?”
“Possibly.”
“Are you going to pester me?”
“No. Shh I want to sleep…” Shepard mumbled, settling herself down onto the couch.
“Shepard get out of my lounge and back to-”
“Shhh! You’re being too loud. I’m trying to sleep!”
“I’m being too loud? You’re in the middle of a club Shepard, the entire place is loud!” Aria snapped, before looking down to see her unexpected companion for the night had already passed out, snoring slightly on the couch.
Aria let out a noise of frustration and contempt, before calling to one of her guards.
“Bray, get our guest a bottle of water… and a bucket in case she throws,” She ordered, before picking up her datapads and getting back to work. As… unexpected as this disturbance may be, she refused to let it distract her from what she was doing. Sparing one last glance at the sleeping commander, Aria questioned to herself what it must have taken to cause the commander to lose inhibitions so wholly.
Aria worked for about 3 hours before the commander began to stir. Shepard sat up off the couch and blinked dazily, before focussing in on Aria.
“Aria? Was I… passed out on your couch?” She questioned.
“Indeed you were, Shepard. Care to explain yourself?” Aria demanded, tossing a bottle of water over.
“I- uh… It’s been a long couple of days,” Shepard responded sheepishly, taking a swig from the bottle.
“Hmm. Evidently so, if it’s encouraged behaviour like this from you,” Aria said, back to looking at her datapads and barely glancing at Shepard.
“Listen, Aria. I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this,” Shepard said, trying to tidy herself up.
“Normally I would contend that this makes excellent blackmail material Shepard, but luckily for you, you’re going to help me take back Omega... Right, Commander?”
Reading the silent threat, Shepard responded “Of course, Aria. I’ve got some clean-up to do after the Cerberus attack here, but once i’m finished I can rendezvous with your fleet.”
“Good.” Aria replied, “Now do leave me in peace, Shepard, I’ve had enough of babysitting your unconscious self.”
Shepard hurried out of the club, water bottle still in hand, and head hung low to avoid any other awkward encounters. Heading into one of the rapid transit shuttle cars, she selected the auto-pilot option, headed to the docking bay where the Normandy was secured.
Shepard knew her crew schedule thoroughly enough that she knew she would be more or less undisturbed. Most of the crew leave the ship during shore leave, desperate to sleep in a real bed and eat a proper meal, with only a skeleton crew manning the ship each time. There was someone on each floor at all times (other than her bedroom level), and she would only encounter one of them on her way to the elevator, maybe two if the soldier posted managed to convince someone to keep them company. All in all, she should manage to escape this night with her reputation relatively intact.
Going through the Normandy’s airlock, she found her predictions were correct. One bored looking serviceman sat watching vids on his datapad, and no one else. He made an attempt to look vigilant at his post, saluting as he recognised who it was, but Shepard just waved him off, and attempted to look sober as she went up to her quarters.
Closing the door behind her, she kicked off her shoes and took off her bra before collapsing into bed. Sleep would bring no respite from her guilty and grieving thoughts, but at least the alcohol still in her bloodstream should keep her out of it for longer. Shepard laid her head down on the pillow before waving the lights off and passing out.
When she woke up, she was sweaty and dehydrated. She went to stumble to her bathroom, before noticing a glass of water already prepared on her bedside table. She drank it down, taking some of the aspirin laid out for her as well. A note was placed next to it:
“Shepard,
EDI told me how drunk you were last night when you went to bed, so I thought I would help you out. If you need to talk or anything… well you know where to find me.
Joker”
Shepard allowed herself to feel a moment of warmth at the actions of her pilot and friend, before downing the rest of the water and getting dressed. The hangover may be rough, but getting to work stopping Cerberus and the Reapers, the things that took her friend’s lives? That was something that she couldn’t put off. So Shepard gritted her teeth, straightened her spine, and got back to work.