Chapter Text
I took the stars from my eyes, and then I made a map
And knew that somehow I could find my way back
Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too
So I stayed in the darkness with you
- Florence + the Machine, Cosmic Love
Date: January 7, 2183
Time: 12:45
Location: Systems Alliance HQ, Vancouver BC, Canada
The sterile white wall held a floor to ceiling window in its center. The clock to the side of the window flashed a new time, bringing freedom one minute closer. On Mindoir, clocks ticked each second, the sound reminding her of the click of the safety on a pistol. They didn’t do that on Earth, where a clock had a holoscreen that digitally displayed the time. It was easy to lose track of time without the persistence of an analog clock’s ticks to remind her of its existence. Each time she thought of that sound, she could feel the press of her thumb against the safety and the click as she disabled it. That sound was also a reminder of the weight of the decision she made.
Shepard shifted on the couch, sinking a little further into the plush cushion. The scent of warm vanilla wafted towards her with the gentle rush of cool air from a vent set into the wall behind her. Certain they intended the scent to calm those in her position, it had no effect on her mood.
The petite woman across from her cleared her throat, straightening in her chair as she prepared to speak. “I can only imagine how difficult—“
“It wasn’t,” Shepard said.
“See, that’s the thing. We’ve had a few sessions now, and while I’m normally happy to sit in silence if that’s what you need, the longer we do this, the longer it will take to pass you.” She pursed her lips at Shepard as if expecting a response, but Shepard had none to give. She was the disappointed teacher and Shepard was the student whose homework got eaten by varren. “I can tell you’re itching to get back out there.” She waved the datapad in her hand. “Your service record tells me we need you out there.”
Shepard sat quietly with her thoughts, her face a stony expression of the facade the therapist wasn’t allowed to see behind. If she was needed out there, then pass her. It was that simple.
This was visit number three—whatever breakthrough the Alliance was waiting for to clear her for active was taking its sweet time, and she had no intention to say anymore to this woman than she already had. She made her peace, and that was that. In the past, Shepard’s method of giving as many details as she felt necessary worked. Mental health evaluations weren’t new to her, but taking weeks to get cleared was.
“I think you could get more out of this session if we had a conversation. We can talk about anything.” She lowered her chin and peeked over the rim of dark glasses, expectant.
“I understand what’s supposed to happen here, but I don’t know what you want me to say—I thought we covered it week one. I recognize that seventy-five percent of my unit died, and that I made the call that resulted in their deaths. I was prepared to die, but I’m grateful I didn’t.” That last part was a slight lie—what she lacked in gratefulness, she made up for in how much she wanted to get back out there and make sure their deaths weren’t in vain. Shepard was more affected than she let on, but it was her way to shove that to the side. She’d come face to face with worse, and she neatly packaged her trauma into boxes and sent into the furthest recesses of her mind. There was no way to do the work she did without the ability to compartmentalize. “The risk of letting the slavers get away when we could take them out was too great. I made a tough call and I stand by it.”
The therapist entered something into her datapad. Shepard knew she could ask to see the notes, and every time the therapist looked down, the temptation was there, but she never did. Instead, she rested her hands on her lap and looked straightforward to convey just how fine she was. She tapped a polished black boot against the tile floor. Therapy made her restless, and the doubtful expression on the woman across from her made her eager to leave.
“We haven’t talked about it yet, but I know you experienced a slaver attack on Mindoir when you were—“
“No.” The word flowed easily from her mouth, like tepid water from a faucet, the same reaction to whenever someone mentioned her past. Her eyes rose from the floor just enough to meet the therapist’s.
“Have you ever spoken to someone about it?”
“No.”
“It could be beneficial to express those thoughts and feelings.”
“I disagree.” Shepard’s eyes drifted to the clock. A tight-lipped smile replaced the therapist’s look of concern as she also saw the time. “I think our time is up.”
“It’s okay if you need more time to open up. I’m happy to give you as much time as you need. But I need it to be clear that I can’t pass you on your mental health evaluation until we dig deeper into what happened and why.”
“Got it.” She rose from her seat and strode to the door, feeling the therapist’s gaze bore into her back with each step towards freedom.
A hiss pierced the silence as the door slid open, the noise alerting the waiting room to the end of her session. The scent of vanilla followed her as she left the office for the elevator.
No one was in the hallway with her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Since coming back from Torfan, even in the privacy of her quarters, she rarely felt alone. The eyes of the therapist, the voices of those that walked past her desk each day, the last cries of the men she sent to their deaths. It took several years to learn to live with the things she couldn’t change. Losing her loved ones was when the lesson began, and Torfan was just continuing education. Life was pain, but she learned to be resilient. The difference was, this time, she could tell herself that each man lost was a family saved. She reminded herself of that as she took the elevator back up to the twelfth floor.
Lunch break therapy was over, but there was still half a day of work to get through. Shepard settled back into her too-soft chair at her too-empty desk. Life in Vancouver still maintained a steady, slow pace, reminding her why she craved to leave it behind just over a decade prior when she enlisted. Before her was a datapad, a terminal, a mug she never used, and a comm that rang too often. The only good part about this job was that she still maintained her pay grade—actually, she also liked the window in front of her desk. There were worse views than the west side of Vancouver in the winter.
Snow dusted the tops of the buildings across from Alliance Headquarters, blanketing the city in winter. It had been a while since she experienced a true winter. Maybe this year was her chance.
A notification from her terminal brought her attention back to work. She hovered over it, showing a message from Admiral Hackett. Opening the message, the brief body took only a second to read:
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Date: 01.07.83
Time: 01:17
Subject: Meeting
Commander Shepard:
Report to my office on the 20th floor at 1530.
- Hackett
Since returning to Vancouver and being assigned the (hopefully) temporary role of administrative clerk, most messages addressed her in name only, forgoing the title. After all, what would she be if she never passed the mental health evaluation? Fucked came to mind, but Commander would be a thing of the past. Losing that title wasn’t bothersome, but seeing it in this message was. Any hopes that she would’ve passed felt squandered after the therapy session she had just come from.
The time readout at the bottom left corner of the terminal told her she had just over two hours to sit, wonder, and most of all, worry. Worry didn’t come often, but when it did, it hit hard. It was like being called into the principal’s office, but instead of the initial pulse of dread dissipating, it reared its ugly head every couple of minutes as she worked. Administrative work left her mind too idle.
When she looked at the clock again, only five minutes passed.
“Shit,” she muttered to herself.
Shepard rubbed damp palms against her thighs, thankful the dark material of her pants would hide any sweat. The slowest elevator ride of her life from the twelfth floor to the twentieth was enough time to run through every scenario, and most were unfortunately bad. Whatever the reason for Hackett making time just to speak with her face to face, it had to be serious. In most of her experiences over the years, serious, in Alliance terms, was often bad.
The circle above the elevator door flashed green and read nineteen. Within a minute, she might be in his office. She bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet. The therapist said she could take as much time as she needed, but would the Alliance wait for her? This thing wasn’t supposed to take months, yet it had.
Elevator doors slid open underneath a green number twenty. Arrival. She’d arrived in many places that instilled fear, but none inspired the same bitter taste in her mouth at Hackett’s office. With a deep breath, she raised her head and rolled her shoulders back—whatever was about to happen, she’d take it with dignity.
A young woman sat at the desk in front of Hackett’s office, head bobbing as she laughed at whoever was on the other end of the call. The comm hit her desk with a click just a moment later and she turned her attention promptly. “Commander Shepard?”
“Yes,” she said, the word drawn out almost in a question. She cocked a brow at the unfamiliar face that looked back at her with awe.
“What an honor to meet you,” she surged from her seat and Shepard couldn’t hide her look of confusion from the stranger’s enthusiasm as she shot a hand forward. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I’m new here. My name is Kelly—I mean Yeoman Chambers. I’ve just heard so much about you.”
She took Kelly’s hand and found her grip unexpectedly firm. “Nice to meet you.” Shepard smiled, trying to push authenticity into the strained curve of her lips.
“Admiral Hackett will see you in just a few moments if you’d like to take a seat.”
Kelly beamed at her until she sat in one of the chairs that lined the wall along the exterior of Hackett’s office. With frosted glass to her back, she was glad he couldn’t see her yet, giving her the chance to gather herself. Glancing at her omni-tool, she was a few minutes early.
Shepard waited only the few minutes she was early, until the sound of an incoming message came from Kelly’s terminal, followed by a click as the door to the Admiral’s office unlocked.
“The Admiral will see you now,” Kelly said.
Showtime.
A flare if anxiety shot its way up from deep in her belly, resting in her chest and making her heart race. She approached the door, resisting the urge to swear under her breath. The heavy door slid open as she neared it. The gray sky opposite the open door illuminated Hackett’s back, darkening his front and making him more ominous. This wasn’t the first time she’d been up here, but it was the first where she had no clue why she was here. Hackett never said the reason for a meeting when he summoned her, but she usually had a good idea of why. Not today.
He glanced up from his desk, piercing blue gaze settling on her.
Shepard snapped to attention. “Admiral Hackett.”
“At ease, Commander.”
“You wanted to see me, sir?” she asked, still standing by the door.
“Take a seat,” he said, motioning to the chair opposite him.
She obliged, his tone a shot of adrenaline to an already racing heart. The seat was, again, more comfortable than she’d like. A firm seat, like the rigid structure of life aboard a frigate, added order, which she missed terribly. She was as accustomed to desk work as she imagined Yeoman Chambers would be to firing an assault rifle on the battlefield; she could do it, but few would be happy with the result.
“How has your time in Vancouver been?” Hackett asked. His clasped hands rested on the desk as he looked at Shepard, waiting for a response.
“Well, sir, I’m thankful for the opportunity to continue working while waiting to pass my eval. It’s just—”
“It’s just that this isn’t the work you signed on to do.”
“Yes, sir.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I won’t sugarcoat this, Shepard. Torfan was bad. I know you did your best, as you always do. But until we can clear you for active duty, you’ll remain grounded.”
A weight sunk in her chest at his words, anchoring her further into the plush seat. She worked to hide the disappointment that radiated from her core that threatened to show as red on every bit of exposed skin. “I understand, sir.”
“But that doesn’t mean you have to stay in Vancouver.”
“Come again?”
“As you’re aware, Captain Anderson has been away for nearly a week. He’s on the Citadel, meeting with the human ambassador, Udina, and the Council. They are requesting your presence. It is to my understanding that Ambassador Udina has been pushing for a greater role for humanity within the galactic community, especially on the Citadel. They want to see how humanity’s best can play with the established species of the Citadel, and while they aren’t ready to add a human councilor, they are interested to see how a human can navigate the issues faced within the wards on the Citadel. Think of it as how we fit into Citadel life.”
Her brow furrowed and her lips pursed with a question she was still forming as she considered his words without a full understanding of how this impacted her. “This is interesting, sir, and I truly do hope for humanity to have a place with the Council one day, but what does this have to do with me?”
“Captain Anderson went there to meet with them to nominate you for the role of detective with C-Sec. The Council proposed this and C-Sec have agreed to allow a human to join their ranks. You would be the first human detective C-Sec has ever had. There are a few human officers, but C-Sec is mostly turian. You’d be a human representative working on the Citadel, and you’d still report for weekly therapy sessions with an Alliance appointed therapist on the Citadel, but other than that, you’d be a C-Sec detective with all the responsibilities and duties of that role.”
The idea was intriguing, but also confusing. “C-Sec doesn’t have a human detective? Why?”
“I don’t know all the details. I’m sure you’ll receive a thorough briefing once you arrive.”
This was an unexpected turn of events.
Hackett was silent, and Shepard realized her mouth was parted as if words were about to come out, but she had nothing.
“You can say no. You’re free to stay here until you pass your mental health evaluation. If you pass, you would return to active duty.”
There was the matter of if she didn’t, but even the thought sent a shiver down her spine. What happened in that circumstance wasn’t something she wanted to think about at that moment.
“If the Alliance doesn’t trust me to fight, how can the Council trust me to be a C-Sec detective?”
“The Alliance and the Council are not one and the same. Just because I can’t clear you to command a ground team right now doesn’t mean the Council will object to you taking down a red sand dealer or two. And If we want to show them what humanity can do, we need to show them the best. Despite what’s happened, you are the best.” He sat back in his chair, clasped hands now in his lap. “What do you say?”
“It would be an honor, Admiral.” In truth, she would be honored to do anything that got her away from secretarial duty. “I accept.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. You’re dismissed for the day. Take this time to pack. You leave Vancouver tomorrow, oh-six-hundred.”
Not one to question her good fortune, she gave Hackett an “aye aye, sir,” and left. Yeoman Chambers gave her a parting smile as she walked towards the elevator, head held higher than it was when she first arrived for the meeting. As she rode the elevator down to the ground level to head for her quarters, a flicker of hope ignited within her for the first time since Torfan.
Date: January 7, 2183
Time: 18:53
Location: Julep’s Bar, Vancouver BC, Canada
The time between leaving Hackett’s office to ending up in a bar seat at Julep’s blurred into a brief and dizzying moment. Turning down the offer to leave Vancouver and desk work behind didn’t seem like an option, even if Hackett said it was. When Shepard woke up that morning, there was no viable time frame that ended her time as a glorified secretary, but that afternoon presented her with an opportunity that did just that. With less than a day to prepare, she packed up all her belongings in under five minutes and waited around until Kaidan was free.
A raspy voice sounded from behind, cutting through the subdued music of the rustic bar. “Shepard,” he said as he slid into the seat next to her, a warm smile on his face. “How have you been?”
It was the first time she’d seen him in a couple of months. Their relationship had been rocky after Torfan, though it wasn’t apparent in their greeting. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a warm embrace. Heat still simmered in her belly at his touch, though she put anything they had behind her when he pumped the brakes. It was for the best.
He pulled back and took the seat next to her.
“I’ve been better. Shipping out tomorrow.” They put in drink orders with the bartender, a beer each.
“You passed your eval? That’s great news!” His warm smile returned, reminding her why he was an excellent friend.
“Not quite.” She took a sip of her beer as soon as it appeared before her. “I’ve got a new assignment on the Citadel, but it’s not for the Alliance, per se.”
“Oh?”
“It’s on behalf of the Alliance for the Council. I’ll still have to pass that eval to return to active duty.” She continued on with the details Hackett had given her, realizing how spotty they were as she relayed them.
“Huh, sounds interesting enough. Well, I wish you luck.” He raised his beer and clinked the neck of the bottle against hers. Their conversation easily slipped back into a place of familiarity; close friends catching up after life got in the way, except that bit of life was witnessing the deaths of soldiers they knew well.
Kaidan rehashed his most recent stint aboard a frigate that took him briefly to the terminus systems—no slavers this time, just an unknown threat that the Alliance was looking into. She knew the drill, and she wasn’t privy to the details since it wasn’t her mission, but Kaidan gave her as much as he could. His story, while standard for their work since Elysium, filled Shepard with the desire to get back out there too. Being grounded was hard. Hopefully, getting to the Citadel would offer the change of pace she desperately needed.
“So, how’s life been at HQ?” Kaidan asked as he polished off his beer.
“It’s been about as fun as I’m sure Alliance HR is.” She smirked.
“I’ll have you know, tending to a ship’s marine detail is quite fulfilling.” He chuckled. “You want another?”
She looked at her omni-tool. Too late. “I head out at oh six hundred tomorrow. Probably shouldn’t.” She looked over at the half full dance floor. “But I have some time to dance.”
“You sure that’s the send off you want to give to Vancouver?”
“It is.”
“Fine,” he said with a laugh.
She jumped from her seat. Grabbing Kaidan’s forearm, she dragged him to the dance floor. It was lively, half full of slick bodies looking to forget the day, and she was right there with them. In an empty spot, they began dancing. Kaidan rested his hands on her hips as she swayed and she threw her arms around his neck. He flashed her a look she hadn’t seen in months as their eyes met. It was smoky and hot, compelling her to open the door she had closed, just for a peek.
He leaned into her, bringing his forehead to hers. The intimacy that still lingered between them was unspoken. There were things she felt that she never told him. Maybe it was the same for him, but right now, whatever truths remained unspoken were better left that way. The past always had an ugly way of rearing its head.
“I’ve missed this,” he said, pulling her in.
“My shitty dancing?”
Instead of words, Kaidan pressed his lips to hers and the past flooded in, as if the door had never been closed. “Do you want to get out of here?” he asked.
Time blurred until the door to his apartment opened behind Shepard’s back and Kaidan skillfully moved them indoors, bumping her into the familiar edges of furniture she hadn’t seen in months. An entryway table. The corner of the short hallway that led to his bedroom. The edge of the couch. She didn’t need to open her eyes and look around to see not much had changed.
Kaidan’s grasp on her waist was firm, just as she liked it. He was always direct with his words and his body, almost rough, but with a distinct tenderness that sent a delicious tingle up her spine. Torfan often left her wondering about the what ifs of their relationship. She knew it wasn’t the time for what they were about to do, but her body welcomed every single one of his touches and kisses with a new tendril of pleasure snaking its way to her core.
“I’ve missed you—missed this,” he whispered against her neck.
She silently let him guide her to the bedroom. If for a moment, she fully let him in, she might never stand a chance at neatly repacking all the parts of her past where he resided as more than her friend, more than a soldier under her command. It had to be just physical.
His fingers worked at the buttons of her shirt, tugging it from the belted waist of her pants. She returned the favor and in no time they laid upon his bed as they had many times before.
Stricken by the tenderness displayed in every caress of her body, she snuffed the question that bore in her mind before it could leave her lips—what is this? Questions such as those were so easily answered before Torfan, but since, nothing in her life was easy. This was a goodbye with a close friend. That would be her answer.
“Kaidan,” she groaned as he moved between her legs.
He seemed spurred on by his name slipping past her lips. With complete understanding of her body, he kissed her deeply as he thrust into her, and she cried out the first of many times that night. There were worse ways to say goodbye.