#BUT HUNTERS ARE JUST GENERALLY FASTER THAN SURVIVORS AND I CANT JUST... RUN OUT IN THE OPEN... GKRKGGRRGJGR

[jils-things]

xelle already explained this reason to me well but now that i actually have played with him a few times, i am really understanding why i can never win against fools gol.d.

hes a fuckin ANTI LOOPER!! IT SUCKS!!!!

[theoriginalladya]

A Constant Wish

A Constant Wish

Summary:  An anniversary, but not of the enjoyable kind. Nine years on, and Commander Shepard is still dealing with the fallout from Akuze. It's up to Kaidan Alenko to guide him through it.

Tags: Sole Survivor, survivor’s guilt, death, grief, Akuze, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, mshenko

Characters: Caleb Shepard, Kaidan Alenko

NOTE: Four years ago today, my mother lost her battle with cancer. Today, even though I knew the date in my head, it didn't connect until my youngest brother mentioned something in our family text chat. It hit me like a ton of bricks, just as it did then. I've learned to move on, to keep going, to keep living, but this day each year is always the hardest fucking day to get through. And so I wrote this with her in mind for my Caleb Shepard who has his own ghosts to deal with.

Love you, Mom.

A daily thought, a silent tear, A constant wish that you were here

~~~~

Kaidan wakes suddenly, inexplicably, to darkness and the sense that something isn’t quite right.  Not a nightmare, not someone waking him with a touch or a sound, but that unerring feeling that something is just… off.  It isn’t panic so much as a general unease, but he’s used to listening to his gut these days; it’s saved his life or that of a squadmate or even Shepard himself more than once.  

Shepard.

Rolling over, he discovers the bed is empty but for him.  That sends his heart racing faster than he expects and he nearly falls face first to the floor as he scrambles out from beneath the covers.  The time it takes to yank on his sweats and a t-shirt seems an eternity, but he is fully aware thanks to the cold flooring beneath bare feet.  

A thorough search of the upper part of the apartment finds nothing out of the ordinary.  The side note to that is he also fails to locate Shepard.  Granted, he still has half the apartment to investigate, but the fact he cannot find a recent trace of his presence is a bit disconcerting.

He descends to the lower level and begins by checking the back room.  Empty. Next, the living room and the bar. Also, empty.  The lights in the kitchen are dim, just the way they left them when they headed upstairs after dinner.  Still no sign of the man.  

Kaidan tacks his way across to the opposite set of stairs to head back up – maybe he missed him in passing?  As he walks past the hall branching off to his right into the den, habit has him glancing that direction.  In front of the faint flickering fire light, he catches a silhouette; a familiar shape seated at the poker table, hunched over, glass in hand. Unease morphs to concern and curiosity, and he pads down the hallway, calling out softly as he reaches the doorway, “Shepard?  You okay?”

The silhouette jerks suddenly as if startled, then relaxes with an exhale of breath.  “I’m fine, mo ghrá.”

Kaidan takes the response as an invitation to join him, and he slides into a seat at the table.  “Drinking alone?  In the dark? Gonna have to do a better job of convincing me you’re fine,” he challenges, albeit gently.

Shepard huffs; a soft sound and one nearly drowned out by the pop and crackle of the fire.  He sets the glass on the table, rises to his feet, and walks over to the small bar in the corner.  Within moments, he returns with a bottle and a second glass.  This he fills and pushes towards Kaidan, then tops off his own before reclaiming his seat.  “Not alone now, am I?” he asks, setting the bottle down with a heavy thud next to what look to be four playing cards.  

From his position and in the dimly lit room, Kaidan can’t tell which ones they are.  However, knowing Shepard as he does, he can guess their purpose.  Why are you down here drinking and doing card readings in the darkest hours of the night?

Taking the glass in both hands, he pulls it close but does not drink just yet.  Before anything else, he wants, needs, some answers.  “What are we drinking to?”

“Not what,” Shepard declares, blue eyes piercing through the dark to meet Kaidan’s as he lifts his head, “who.”

Kaidan acquiesces with a slight cant of his head. “All right.  Who?”

Shepard lifts his glass in salute.  “Sergeant Angela Nevarra.”

Kaidan frowns.  The name sounds hazily familiar; he’s heard it before but cannot place it.

“Sergeants Carter, Evans and Decatur,” Shepard continues, clearly not expecting a response.  “Corporals Harris, Simmons, Grassini, Aoki, and Meijer.  Malik, Masterson, Owens, Jenson, Weston, Alvarez…”

Kaidan listens in silence but keeps his eyes on Shepard’s face as he continues to list them off.  As the list gets longer, comprehension dawns.  Shepard stops reciting names at forty-eight and the quiet surrounds them again.  Cautiously, Kaidan asks quietly about one name that was not mentioned.  “What about Toombs?”

“Toombs.”

There is a hint of brutality in the way Shepard says the name which Kaidan doesn’t quite understand.  For everyone else associated with Akuze, there is a fondness, a reverence almost in the way their former commander speaks of them, but with Toombs, it’s different.  “That’s his name, isn’t it?  The one we ran into on Ontarom?  Back –”

Shepard tosses back the last of his whiskey, swallows it in a large gulp, and shakes his head sharply once.  “Aye, I remember.”  He slams the glass onto the table with enough force the platform quakes for a moment.  “Heard from him last year, did I ever tell you?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but Kaidan shakes his head anyway.  The time they’ve spent together since his recovery, since the war began, they’ve avoided the more… controversial topics.  Not that Kaidan blames him for not bringing it up; it’s probably just as well.

With a soft snort, Shepard grabs the bottle and pours another two-fingers worth of whiskey.  This is the third drink Kaidan is aware of, and he can’t help but wonder how many Shepard drank when he was alone, before Kaidan found him. 

Their eyes meet again, and the look in them… Well, Kaidan understands now just why the man’s name in Irish is sealgaire, the hunter.  It’s all Kaidan can do to hold his ground.  And, that is knowing that the look isn’t directed at him.

Shepard’s scowl is dark and foreboding as he tosses back this drink, and there is a vehemence in his voice Kaidan has only heard maybe twice since he’s known him.  “Threaten me without knowing what happened?” the commander bites out.  “Briseadh agus brú ar do chnámha!  Go hifreann leat!”**

Kaidan reacts immediately, reaching forward and prying the glass from Shepard’s long fingers.  “Okay, Shepard, that’s enough.  I’m calling time for the night.”

Shepard struggles momentarily, apparently not satisfied, but a moment later releases his hold.  Sighing heavily, he covers his face with his hands.  “Tá brón orm,”**

Kaidan pushes the glasses and bottle across the table and out of easy reach and moves to crouch beside him.  “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Shepard’s hands drop away, and when the blue eyes meet his again, Kaidan recognizes the truth.  His mother once told him that if an Irish man or woman expressed true sorrow for something, there would be matching sadness in their eyes.  The sheer magnitude of the sorrow he sees in Shepard’s gaze just now is enough to level the Reapers and end the war three weeks ago, he thinks.  He reaches over and runs a hand along Shepard’s cheek in a gentle caress of understanding. “Hey.”  

Shepard leans into the touch, eyes closing.  When they open again the sorrow still lingers, but not with the same intensity.  Without the glass before him to toy with, he reaches for the playing cards lying face up. “D’you see these?”

Kaidan spares them a glance, tilting his head to get a better look.  “Did you do another reading?”

“Aye,” Shepard agrees, “but not tonight.  These…  This was my reading that night.  On Akuze, before the attack.”

Past – Two of Spades.

Present – Ten of Spades.

Future – King of Clubs.

Crossing Present – Ten of Diamonds.

None of it makes much sense to Kaidan – it never has – so he looks expectantly at Shepard.  When he remains silent, Kaidan asks, “What did they tell you?”

Shepard pauses for a moment, turning his head to look straight at Kaidan.  “That my world was going to go all to hell once again, but that this time, on the other side, I would find a path to my future…”

Kaidan looks at the cards again.  He recognizes the King of Clubs – it comes up often in Shepard’s readings, though Kaidan isn’t aware of any special attachment to it. The rest he can’t tell of he’s seen in readings before or not.  Shepard’s hand flops onto Kaidan’s shoulder, his fingers toying with his hair near his collar.  When Kaidan smiles back, Shepard’s eyes flare with an intensity that might be unsettling under other circumstances, but thanks to recent events in their lives, he has a much better idea of how to deal with.  

Rising to his feet, he sighs.  Any further explanation on the cards can wait until the man is sober again.  “Come on, we need to get you back to bed, I think.”

Shepard follows without comment or question, and, surprisingly, without stumbling.  When they reach the stairs, Shepard surprises Kaidan by sliding his arms around his waist and hugging close to his back, resting his head on his shoulder.  “You understand, aye?”

Already a step above the man, Kaidan stops and half turns to face him.  The question is very open-ended and he cannot miss the obvious pain.  It isn’t difficult to guess what he is referencing. “About Cerberus?”  Shepard nods.  Sighing softly, Kaidan wraps one arm over Shepard’s at his waist, and tilts his head close enough to ghost a quick kiss across his lips.  “Do you honestly think I would be here now if I didn’t?”

Shepard’s face screws up in confusion for a moment, an endearing look Kaidan doubts the commander would ever agree with if he is made aware of it, so Kaidan keeps the observation to himself.  Running his free hand over Shepard’s cheek again, he clarifies quietly, “Yes, mo shearc,** I understand.  You are not them; you never were.”

Hope wars with uncertainty behind those blue eyes; it’s strange to see Shepard this vulnerable, and a little disconcerting.  How much is the drink and how much just… is?

“You really believe that?”

Kaidan nods.  “Aye, I do,” he replies, echoing Shepard’s usual response and leaning in for another kiss. “Now, come on.  You need to sleep this off.  We can talk more about it later if you like.”  Though, as they ascend the stairs together, he is pretty certain it won’t ever come up again anytime soon.  Perhaps this time next year, but not before.  At least now, Kaidan is prepared.

~~~~ 

** mo ghrá = my love

** Briseadh agus brú ar do chnámha!  =  A breaking and crushing on your bones!

**Go hifreann leat! = To hell with you!

** Tá brón orm = I’m sorry

** mo shearc = my love