#SO HERE WE GO KAIDAN FANS STAY WINNING

[clericofshadows]

REGIS SHEPARD AND KAIDAN ALENKO MASS EFFECT 3 - MARS KAIDAN GAY ROMANCE RESTORED MOD

[biotic-boshtet]

Aftermath - Chapter 7

Read on AO3

Start at the Beginning

Doubt (and Duct Tape)

“Norah Jean!”

“I’m so sorry, Jeff.”

The comm dies and the pod launches. The fireball blooms in slow motion.

She’s spinning.

Spinning.

Spinning.

Suffocating.

-

Norah Jean snaps awake. The first thing her eyes land on are the multitude of stars through the skylight. They used to be so beautiful. Now she can’t even breathe, staring up at them. Can’t tear her eyes away from the cold, emotionless lights. She’s vaguely aware of her corona flickering in and out, rising and falling with her shallow breaths. The comforter is tangled around her legs. She focuses on what she can feel. Her hands are balled up in the sheets, clenching so hard her knuckles hurt. Her body is drenched in sweat, soaking her t-shirt and shorts. The air circulating through the cabin is frigid, cooling her sticky skin.

She can almost take a normal breath.

The soft whir of the fan pointed at her bed breaks through her thoughts. Norah Jean takes a breath, listening to the subtle hum of the drive core, then the sound of the empty fish tank. She can smell the air freshener on the desk, apple cinnamon, it smells like home. She shifts slightly, and the smell of her shampoo wafts up from the pillow.

Her mouth tastes like blood. She must have bitten her cheek before she woke up.

Norah Jean can finally look away from the stars, can a deep breath. She sits up and puts her feet on the cold floor, holding her head in her hands. She won’t be getting back to sleep tonight. This marks the sixth night in a row she’s had that nightmare. She learned on night three that falling back asleep only brings more of them.

She gets up and walks to the desk. Half a dozen reports sit stacked next to the computer. The clock reads 0200. With a sigh she sits down and picks the first pad off the stack. They won’t read themselves.

-

Her cabin is cold, just the way she likes it, and Kaidan is wrapped up completely in her comforter on the bed. She climbs onto the mattress and peels away the edge of the blanket to shimmy under and cuddle close to him. He stirs when her cold hands touch his warm skin, rolling over to face her.

“Hey, Sugar. Didn’t think you’d show.” He presses a kiss to her nose.

“Didn’t think I’d show? This is my cabin.”

“I missed you so much.”

“What? Kaidan, I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“Two years is a long time, Norah Jean.”

“I haven’t left, I’ve been here the whole time!”

“No, you haven’t. You died. None of this is real, Sugar.”

“No. Let’s just go to sleep, this is just a nightmare, everything will be okay when we get up.”

“Norah Jean, you need to open your eyes. It’s time to wake up.”

She blinks and they aren’t in her cabin anymore. Alarms wail all around her and Kaidan faces her, fully suited up.

“Joker’s still in the cockpit, he won’t abandon ship. I’m not leaving either!”

Alarms give way to the silence of space as the Normandy crumbles around her. In seconds, nothing but stars surround her.

She can’t breathe.

-

With a start, Norah jean sits up in her desk chair. Her datapads are scattered across the desktop, and the clock reads 0430. She leans back and rubs her face, covered in lines from the datapad she fell asleep on. She gets up and heads for the gym in the cargo bay.

-

After a few hours of deliberation, looking between the roll of duct tape, the folded bedsheet, and the skylight, she keys the comm frequency for the main battery.

“Hey, Garrus, are you busy right now?”

“Well, I was in the middle of some calibrations, but I’ve been looking for an excuse to run a full system diagnostic. Please tell me you need my services for two hours or so.”

“I do need your help with something, I don’t think it’ll take me two hours though. Meet me up in my cabin?”

“On my way.”

Several minutes later, the door chimes as Garrus walks through. He makes the Turian approximation of a whistle as he looks around.

“Damn, Shepard, you’re living like a queen up here. What’s a guy like me gotta do to get a view like this?”

“Oh? I’ll trade you. I’d sleep better in the down in the guts of the ship anyway.”

“You’re not sleeping?” His mandibles twitch and he looks long and hard at her face, as if only now seeing the dark circles under her eyes.

“Only a little bit. Not nearly enough. But that’s why I called you up here actually, because I have a plan.” She turns to grab the folded sheet and roll of duct tape from the bed. “We’re covering the skylight.”

“’We’?”

“Yes. As you can see,” Norah Jean stands on the bed and reaches one arm up. Even on her toes, she doesn’t come anywhere close to touching the ceiling. “I can’t reach it myself, and this bed is attached very firmly to the floor. So, I need you to give me a boost.”

“A… boost?”

“Yes, Garrus, stand on the bed and pick me up so I can reach the ceiling.”

“Okay. And if I drop you?”

“Are you already planning to?” She laughs at the way his mandibles twitch.

“No! I just don’t want you stabbing me because I accidentally dropped you!”

“Garrus, where would I be hiding a knife? My hair isn’t long enough to do that anymore. Even if you do drop me, I’ll land on the bed, its fine. If you’re that worried about dropping me, I can just sit on your shoulders.”

“I like that, that sounds more secure.”

“Okay then let’s do it, lemme climb on.” Garrus climbs onto the bed and kneels down, so she can climb onto his shoulders.

“So, what is it humans say about duct tape? That it fixes everything?” He slowly stands to his full height, wobbling a bit between the squishy mattress and the marine on his shoulders.

“200 plus years and it hasn’t failed us yet. Even in space, there’s use for it.”

“Maybe Ceruberus should’ve used a bit of it on you, might’ve sped the process up.”

“I’m not gonna give that the dignity of a response.” She lays the sheet over she arm and tears off a strip of tape.

It takes them almost thirty minutes to securely fix the sheet to the skylight. The first corner she’d taped up peeled off once two sides were plastered to the steel. Then as they finished the final corner, the second corner sagged down. By the time everything is secure they’ve gone through a roll and a half of tape, and Garrus is lying on the bed with his eyes closed.

“Tell me when the room stops spinning okay?”

“Here, this’ll fix it.” Norah Jean tears off a square of duct tape and sticks it to Garrus’ armor.

He lifts his head and opens one eye to look at his new silver patch. “It really does fix everything.”

-

Norah Jean sits on her too-soft bed and stares at her armor on its rack. She’s put herself through countless armor drills, just like the Academy’s, but still, she can’t get her time under three minutes. Major Mabbit would have her ass.

She walks over to the rack and starts the timer.

Two minutes and fifty-six seconds. Progress. Hopefully she won’t need to suddenly get ready to drop anytime soon. She takes her time pulling the armor off, inspecting the slowly growing collection of scratches and dents. Ghosts her fingers over the dent on her chestplate from one of Garrus’ concussive rounds. On one of her greaves, a gouge from an impromptu sparring session with Jack out in the field. A square of silver duct tape right in the middle of her left pauldron. The signs of a stranger’s armor slowly becoming hers.

-

The door to the cockpit slides open, and Joker glances over his shoulder to see Norah Jean come in. She scuffs a foot on the floor before sighing and sitting down, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Uh-oh, you’ve got that look that means you’re thinking about one specific thing too much. Spill it.”

“I’m still me, right? I’m still the person you grew up with? Your old high school sweetheart?”

Joker sighs, turning his chair to face where she’s sitting on the floor. “Norah Jean, why-“

“Just. Answer the question. Please.”

“It’s a complicated question, so you’re getting a complicated answer, just a warning. Yes, and no. Of course, you’re not the same person you were in high school. You’re not even the same person you were when you graduated from the Academy and left Arcturus. But that’s normal, hell, even encouraged. You came away from Akuze like a ghost, you’d been through hell and back, but you were still you. People don’t just walk away from trauma without changing, Norah Jean that’s just not how that works. It’s unfair to expect yourself to be the exact same person you were when you saved the Citadel. You got spaced for fuck’s sake, and you remember it? That changes people. So yeah, you’ve changed, but everyone changed when the Normandy went down, whether they want to admit it or not.”

“That’s not what-“

“If you’re asking me if I think you’re some Cerberus controlled zombie, the answer is hell no, absolutely not. If Cerberus had a chip in your brain, I don’t think I’d be able to beat you at Scrabble.”

Norah Jean snorts and rolls her eyes. “Wow, that’s the metric you’re going by? I didn’t realize the bar was so low.”

“It’s more of a combination of things.”

“Do you ever wonder about how life would be if we’d stayed together after the Academy?”

“Telling you “No.” would be lying and I try not to lie to you, you’ve got a weird knack for figuring that shit out.”

“Because you have a shitty poker face, Jeff.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Anyway, I try not to dwell on it, it was 10 years ago. I can guaran-god-damn-tee that if we were still together in ’83 I wouldn’t have been piloting the Normandy because there’s no way Anderson would’ve passed up having you as his XO. Do I regret breaking up with you? No, not really, because without worrying about the regs, you got to chase down what you wanted from your career, and I got to pilot this sweet, sweet ship. Yeah, at first it sucked because you needed space and that space meant we didn’t so much as message each other for 2 years, but it was worth it. And plus, I like our friendship better this way, we’ve got a good thing going here. Now grab the Scrabble set, get your ass in your chair, and we’ll see how many games I win this time.”

“You spend all this time building me up just to break me down again, I see how it is.”

“I’ve gotta keep you in check somehow, Norah Jean.”

[ljandersen]

Under Her Skin

Pairing:  FemShep/Kaidan Alenko, ME 3

Summary:  This is the most Kaidan they’ve seen of each other in two years.  Shepard is starting to feel comfortable.  Kaidan has accepted her so far, but he hasn’t seen her cybernetics.  Exposing her implants could ruin everything.

Shepard watched Kaidan jog around the cargo bay.  She stood at the window in engineering with the core humming behind her.  The door to Shepard’s right was open.  Allers stood out of sight chattering about coordinated efforts between Palavan and Tuchanka.  Allers couldn’t talk about the bomb, of course, so she prattled about vague heroics and the primarch’s son lost in action.  Lost in action like so many.

Shepard shifted her weight.  Her reflection moved in the glass.  The bay was almost empty.  Cortez and Vega were in the portside lounge playing cards.  Shepard had popped her head in only a few minutes ago to see if James wanted to spar.

“Lola, I’m about to own Esteban’s first child,” James said.

“Didn’t know you wanted kids, James.”  Shepard swung her water bottle standing in the doorway.

Cortez lowered his cards.  “Always said you were a fan of the ladies, Vega.  Now you want to have a kid with me?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Sorry, Esteban.  Not happening.”

Cortez snort laughed and tossed chips into the middle of the table.  “Your call, James.”

“So, no sparing?” Shepard said.

“Rain check, Lola?”  James grinned at Cortez.  “Only check I’m taking, Esteban.  Call.”

Shepard pushed off the door frame with a chuckle.  They had gym equipment – a treadmill, elliptical, free weights – in the portside hold by engineering.  Shepard had stepped out of the elevator twirling a water bottle in her hands.  Why she glanced out the window into the cargo bay, she didn’t know.  Now here she stood still watching him.  

Kaidan skimmed the wall in a circuit.  Crates blocked him from view at irregular intervals.  An engineer popped up from an open panel in the floor by the shuttle.  He grabbed a screwdriver from his tool box and dropped out of sight again.  The cargo bay was empty except for him and Kaidan.

Shepard had planned some time on the treadmill anyway.  Why not start with a run?  Screw the treadmill.  She pressed the elevator button and unzipped her hoodie.  Skipping the warm up, she didn’t need the extra layer.  Her eye caught on a reflection in the window, a glowing light.  Her fingers paused with her hoodie half unzipped.  The pit of her stomach sank.  It was her reflection. 

She traced her fingers along her collar bone to the swell of her breasts. A glowing orange light.  Her skin was thickening and healing.  The implant had dimmed to a dull gleam, but it was plainly visible.  It was obvious enough in the dark corridor to glow plainly in her reflection.  She splayed a shaky hand over the light and met her own eyes in the reflection.  Kaidan ran laps behind her reflection.

She and Kaidan were getting along.  He made her laugh.  Really laugh.  She’d forgotten his wry humor, the way he turned words back at her.  Dammit, he was clever, but honest and deep too.  Deeper than her.  Deep enough no doubt that he’d probably spent hours brooding over her Frankensteinian recreation.  Her hand fell from the zipper.  Air thickened in her throat.  

She watched him disappear behind another crate.  Running and running and running.  Her reflection returned a grim smile.  She looked herself in the eye and zipped the hoodie up to her throat.  She turned to the elevator and pressed the button for the cargo bay.

She got out and set her water bottle by the elevator.  He wasn’t far ahead.  She jogged around the first corner of crates and saw him.  He must have heard the pounding of her running shoes, because he turned his head.  He stopped.

“Not doing hurdles.”  Shepard shoved him sideways as she passed.

She smirked over her shoulder at him and took the next turn.  It didn’t take long for his feet to clap up behind her.

“Track etiquette, Shepard.  Tsk, tsk.”

“Show by example, Mr. Track-Manners.  Stop flat-tiring me.”

“Stop changing lanes and winging your elbows out.  I’m passing one way or another.”

“No track etiquette here.  Expect to get tripped.”

He didn’t say anything, and Shepard looked back.  Her footsteps slowed.  He was gone.

“Ha!”  He burst from between the crates in front of her.

“Off roading it?  Cheater.”  Shepard leapt into a full sprint.

Kaidan shot forward faster.  Shepard pushed herself, but there was no gaining.  He kept a fixed distance ahead, so exactly fixed, it seemed deliberately measured.  She slowed her pace and that confirmed it.  He slowed his pace to match.  He could leave her in the dust, but was staying just enough ahead to let her keep up.

“Don’t want to win by too much, huh?” Shepard huffed big gulps of air.

Kaidan’s canter smoothed into a walk.  She overtook him, giving him a light shove, then dropped into a walk beside him.  Her lungs drank in the oxygen, air wheezing in and out through her smile.  Kaidan gave a breathy laugh and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

“Want me to ask Dr. Chakwas for an inhaler?” Kaidan asked.

“Whatever, Track Star.”  Shepard purposefully staggered sideways into him.  Her gulping breaths eased into a steady push and pull.  “Dammit.  I’m your James.  He couldn’t keep up with me.  I made fun of him.  Kharma.”

Kaidan chuckled.  “Yeah, Vega’s more fight than flight.  I like to keep my options open.”

“Huh.  That’s a little unsettling, Alenko.  Guy guarding my six wants to keep his fight or flight options open.”

“I’ll drag you with me.”  Kaidan flapped air down the neck of his tank top.  The light fabric stuck to the sweat on his back.  “You may have noticed, Shepard, but not a lot of reapers go down in a fist fight.”

“The one on Tuchanka went down,” Shepard said.  She snatched her water bottle off the floor.  “Granted, no fists were involved, but it was pretty physical.”

Kaidan's towel and water bottle were across the bay.  He turned toward them.  The engineer still clunked around under the floor mumbling curses Shepard could hear all the way by the elevator.  Shepard took a sip from her water bottle and fanned her face.  Her sprint left her hot and sweaty.  She glanced at Kaidan’s retreating back, and a soft warmth pooled in her chest.  She grabbed hold of the zipper.  Her heart thundered. 

“Screw it.” 

She unzipped the hoodie and threw it against the wall.  She could see her reflection in the wall’s metal casing.  Light glowed faintly under her T-shirt.  She ripped that off too.  She squared herself to the blurry reflection, sports bra and glowing patches of skin.  The light above her navel was brighter and sharper than the one higher on her chest.  The marauder’s blade had left a thin, delicate veil of skin still knitting together.  The implant blazed through the healing skin like paper.  

Shepard straightened the straps of her sports bra and smoothed a hand down her leggings.  She spun around.  Kaidan had reached the crate with his towel.  She jogged up behind him.

“Must have been something to see,” Kaidan said over his shoulder.  “That hard for you?”

He grabbed his water bottle and turned around.  The effect was immediate.  His eyes dropped – a quick flicker – but it was enough to make his jaw set and posture pull back.  Shepard’s heart dropped.  She raised her chin and put fists on her hips.  This was her: scars and glowing implants, half machine, only part human.  His gaze sharpened on her face, a firm focus, deliberate and controlled.

“What was hard for me?” Shepard repeated with an edge.  “You were saying …”

“Oh, uh, yeah.  Right.”  He shifted back a step and angled toward the wall.  His eyes drifted away.  “I was just – on Tuchanka.  Was that hard?  Seeing the thresher maw?”  He took a long pull from his water bottle.  He capped it and glanced over at her. 

Shepard glared back at him.  “Why?  Any thresher maw sighting must trigger PTSD?”

Kaidan looked away sharply and set his water bottle down.  “Sorry, Shepard.  I wasn’t meaning to – I just thought it might have been hard.  I overstepped though.  Asking.  I’m sorry.”

Shepard knotted her arms and tapped the water bottle against her hip.  “It’s fine.  Thresher maws are just mindless animals.  They act like you’d expect.  For all the bad, it’s nice to see a little good I suppose.  But in the end, they’re still exactly what you knew them to be.”

“Right …”  His brow furrowed.  He looked past her and rubbed his arm.  “Anyway, just glad to get a point on the reader board for our side.”

Shepard followed his eyes to the elevator.  Kaidan snagged his towel and water bottle off the crate.

“I should get ready for duty,” he said.

She had driven him off.  She rattled the water in her water bottle and frowned.  Was it the awkwardness of refusing to discuss her weepy thresher maw fears?  Or was it seeing her implants?  It could be both.  Kaidan took a step toward the elevator.  She edged in front of him.  He stopped.

“I was going to …”  His eyes lowered and intensified into a stare.

Shepard glanced down.  She hadn’t even consciously realized she was doing it.  Her fingertips pressed to the glow just visible above the fabric of her sports bra.

“Is this bothering you?”  Shepard took a step toward him.

His eyes snapped up, but he couldn’t meet her gaze.  “Uh, sorry, Shepard.  I … I don’t know.”

She felt sick.  “It does bother you.”

“I—I guess?  I’m really sorry, Shepard.  I just—I … Well, hmm.  Sorry.”  He darted around her.

Shepard’s shoulders slumped.  Her insides twisted.  She should have kept her hoodie on, kept it zipped to the chin.  She watched him retreating and grit her teeth.  Her hands balled into fists.  No.  This was the way she was now.  Damn him then if he couldn’t accept the new her, flesh and blood and gizmos.  She hurled her water bottle into the floor and raced up behind him.  She tore him around by the shoulder to face her.  His eyes ballooned.

“Listen up.”  She stepped into him and whipped her voice out with a crack.  “I’ll say it once.  I’m part machine, I know that, but it doesn’t matter.  What matters is that you’re going to treat me like a person and follow my orders.  Stay on the same page with me, we’ll get along.  We don’t need to be friends.  My buddy quota’s full anyway.  But if you treat me like a cyborg on the field, question me, I’ll kick your ass so hard my footprint will need to be surgically removed.  Got it?”

Kaidan stood frozen.  His spine was stretched so tight it might snap.  He barely breathed.  Her face was close enough to tell.  A wrench clanged on the metal floor behind her. The maintenance worker’s mouth hung open. Shepard faced him with hands on his hips, and he tucked into the floor like a prairie dog under the shadow of an eagle.

“Are we on the same page?”  Shepard swung her face back to Kaidan.

Kaidan’s chest expanded.  His breathing fell back into rhythm.  He was starting to thaw.

Shepard drummed her fingers on her hips.  “Just say we’re on the same page, Major, and we can move forward.”

“We’re not on the same page.”

Shepard dropped her arms and faced him full on.  “What?”

“Have I treated you like less than a person?  Where the hell is this coming from?”

Shepard jabbed her finger at the spot they’d been standing minutes ago.  “Right there.  My hardware makes you uncomfortable, fine, but I’m not a machine.  I’m not going to let you treat me like one.”

Kaidan followed her finger with his eyes.  His eyebrows lifted.  “Oh.”  His lips twitched with the hint of a smile.  The tightness drained from his posture.  “Shepard …”

“You think this is funny?” Shepard said.

“Well …”  Kaidan shrugged a shoulder.  His lips spread into a full smile.  “Hey, it’s not what you think.  Don’t be angry.  Poor Johnston’s quivering under the floorboards.”

“Then what am I getting wrong?”  Shepard glared into his smile.  “I asked a direct question, you gave a direct answer.”

“Maybe, but …”  Kaidan chewed the corner of his lip.  He eyed her for a second, then folded his arms.  “I don’t know if I want to say.  The takeaway is: you misunderstood.  You’re a person to me, all right?  Of course, you are.”  Shepard’s eyes thinned, but he continued.  “And don’t give me a footprint I need surgically removed.  All the real war wounds being triaged, I’d be on the waiting list forever.”

“I’ll make sure it deserves priority.  Turn around.”

“Ha.  Think I’d make it easy for you?  Fight or flight, remember?  I’m faster.” 

He backed up and pushed the elevator button.  Shepard stared hard at him, but he only returned her glare with a cheeky smile.  The breath clenched in her chest drained away in a long sigh. 

“Kaidan, you really don’t think I’m—”

“No, I don’t.”  Kaidan stepped backward into the elevator and stopped the door with his hand.  “I don’t care about your cybernetics, Shepard.  Just means you’d lose playing hide and seek in the dark, but other than that … You’re a person to me, Shepard.  Sometimes I wish that’s all you were.”  He pulled back, and the elevator doors closed.

Shepard folded her arms.  A frown soured her lips.

“Commander?” The engineer’s voice wavered.

“Johnston?”  Shepard twisted to the head popping up from the floor.  “Sorry about that.  Didn’t mean to singe any bystanders.”

“That’s okay, Commander.  Still got my eyebrows.”  He crawled out of the floor and walked over to her.  He tapped a wrench in one palm and opened his mouth.  He closed it again.

“What is it?”  Shepard took a step toward him.

“Major Alenko.”  Johnston nodded at the elevator.  “This might be an inappropriate observation, ma’am, but the Major's been checking you out pretty thoroughly when you’re not looking.  Well, even when you are looking ...”  He waved his wrench toward the place she and Kaidan had stood earlier.

Shepard’s heart sped up.  “What?  You mean, like – You’re sure?”

“It didn’t look like a professional visual pat down, you know what I mean.  Just saying.  Might want to straighten him out before there’s trouble.”

“Huh.”  Shepard clicked her tongue and smiled.  “Yes, indeed.  Well, well …”

“Not to criticize, ma’am.”  Johnston pointed the wrench at her this time.  “Maybe you wouldn’t have trouble receiving attention like that if you … Not saying it’s your fault.”

Shepard looked down.  Her skin glistened with sweat.  The curve of her breasts rose and fell with each breath, straining against the clinging fabric of her sports bra.  She touched her bare stomach and faced her reflection in the metal wall.  The implant glowed in her chest.  She traced the light between the swell of her breasts and smiled.  Ah.  Maybe it wasn’t the implants under her skin bothering him.  It was the skin itself.  She brushed a hand down her side.  Only a sports bra and leggings.

“Don’t leer at me, Johnston.”  Shepard looked over her shoulder.

He sprang into motion.  “Sorry, ma’am.  Really, really didn’t mean –”

“Eh.  Just giving you a hard time.  Keep up the good work.  Whatever you’re pounding away on down there, continue.”

Shepard fluttered to the elevator.  She should make sure Kaidan was on the same page as her about this.  Distractions and emotional complications weren’t appropriate for war time.  Still, she couldn’t help smiling.  She jabbed the elevator button.  She’d set him straight some other time.

From “About Mars . . .”:

AO3:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/21369139/chapters/50901124

FFN:  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13428855/1/About-Mars-Mass-Effect

[incorrectly-quoted-queers]

Drunk Punch Love: INTERMISSION ARCHANGEL

Pairing: FemShep and Garrus Vakarian (Shakarian)

Rating: PG-13 (with some tossed F-bombs)

Summary: Their awkward, badass journey through saving the galaxy and accidentally falling in love

INTERMISSION ARCHANGEL- 40 Days 

Twenty days on Omega, and somehow he ended up spending most of his time at a shithole bar, not knowing what to do with himself.

In a sick twist of fate, the day after he got on the station the old Normandy crew sent him 1,000 credits. Apparently, word of Kaidan and Liara got out, Shepard won the dating pool, and they thought it best to send her winnings to him. They probably thought it was a funny way of remembering her.

Garrus just found it an easy way to accomplish nothing, knowing his bank account was padded with his dead friend's winnings.

It was his fifth night in a row at Afterlife. He didn't know what he was doing here anymore. If he just wanted to sulk it out and then head back to Palaven or the Citadel, he should've left by now. Or if he planned on staying, he should've found some crusade to get his dumb ass distracted. But he wasn't building anything here, he was just drinking and wasting away in limbo.

Finishing his glass for the night, he didn't mind drinking alone very much. And as long as he kept it to one drink, he didn't start imagining her across the table. It was just enough booze to slosh away some of the emptiness, but not enough to start losing his mind. Wasn't the worst way to kill time.

But then an eager looking turian slid in the chair across from him and he hated it.

Okay, drinking alone was fine, minus the persistent grifters. Dude started talking before Garrus could tell him to fuck off. "Don't see ex-turian military around here often, not without a shiny new merc job or some secrets to keep."

"I don't give a shit about whatever you're selling, so-"

"Not even a little bit, Garrus Vaklarian?" He stopped trying to stand and sat back down, glaring at the guy. He didn't like where this was going. The mysterious turian just smirked. "I see I got your attention."

"What the hell do you want?"

"Back-up. I might've gotten myself a one on one with a krogan captain for the Blood Pack in ten minutes, and I don't feel like having my mandibles ripped off."

Garrus was trying to wrap his head around it all. His new taste for ryncol wasn't doing well for his brain. "One, why the hell would you do that? And two, why do you know who I am?"

"I'd love to say weeks of intel, but really? I've seen you a couple times here. Took me a little while to realize you're the one from the Battle of the Citadel vids, who helped take down Saren. Could use some heroism on my side."

"Okay, but you still didn't answer question one."

"I'm not a huge fan of the merc groups, period, but this Krogan's been trying to expand his territory into my old neighborhood. If my favorite restaurant has to start paying dues, we're gonna have a problem."

"With that dumb answer, I guess we're back to augmenting the second question. Why me? You could hire decent shots all over this station."

The guy was trying to seem casually, but Garrus could see the way his feet kept bouncing. All his fake confidence was relying on lies and adrenaline. Regardless of the underlying tells, the turian said, "Well, let's just say I'm a bit strapped for cash, so I was hoping you might do it for free. Also, I always prefer more than just a decent shot."

Laughing, Garrus was a little impressed with the quads on him. At the very least, the exchange was getting more amusing than annoying. "And what makes you think I'll help you?"

"A turian quitting their civil service position to chase down an unconfirmed rogue, turian spectre? That's a hero type. And hero types can't resists offers like mine."

That's when all the talk he was spinning stopped amusing Garrus. He leaned back forward onto the table, trying to keep the pop-up thoughts about green eyes and target practice out of his mind. "Yeah, well that's who I used to be."

Finally, the turian switched tactics. The veiled swagger fell and his shoulders slumped. He leaned closer to Garrus and went for the ole' classic: begging. "Just this once, okay? And after I'll leave you alone."

He was really itching to say no, but something in the back of his head was curious how much trouble one Krogan really could be. He'd definitely taken down scarier things in his time. And what better was he doing?

Hell with it. Maybe this could be his litmus test, break whatever funk he was in. If he felt good helping someone, great, he could use that. Make something of it. If not? Get his ass off this station, because it clearly wasn't doing much for him. Even if Omega treated Shepard's name like a hex, his brain dragged too much of her around. No matter Sol's intel, he there was one big problem with trying to run from her ghost: him.

Pushing off the table, he gave the guy a shrug. "Fine. Now, where the hell are we going?"

His new turian friend probably didn't mean to, but his face lit up and he nearly tripped over himself standing. He did a decent job pretending it didn't happen, though. Straightening himself, he nodded towards the far exit. "Out there and a few alleys back." Garrus nodded and followed him.

Once they were outside, though, he took a stop at a vending machine and grabbed some water. The second it dropped down, he popped the cap open and started chugging. His companion looked slightly horrified, saying, "Why are you inhaling that water bottle like it's oxygen?"

As the last drops fell, he threw away the bottle. "I was drinking ryncol." It was 100% placebo, but that alone made him start feeling a little better. Or maybe it was just the blood pumping from knowing he might get to pull out his sniper in a few minutes.

He hadn't done any target practice in weeks.

Though he started walking again, the turian gaped. "Why?" But as Garrus started walking faster, wanting to get somewhere, accomplish something, it was like the guy could smell his boiling blood. "Spirits, are you gonna get me killed?"

Garrus laughed at the thought. "If Shepard didn't kill me, neither will a Blood Pack krogan."

"Do you mean Saren?"

"No."

They walked down the next few blocks, and nothing seemed more illegal or sketchy than the rest of Omega was. They even got to pass a raving Batarian prophet, and that still didn't feel all that insane. He'd really gotten used to Omega, hadn't he?

All of a sudden, his walking buddy stopped in a slightly dimmer alley, where a few lights were out and no one was waiting for them. Garrus was hoping that he was just lost or looking for a right door to give a password, but the longer the other turian itched at his face, Garrus realized things were probably going to get complicated.

Garrus gave the guy the benefit of the doubt. "Is this the right place?"

"Yeah, I was supposed to meet him right here... five minutes ago."

Before Garrus could say anything about it obviously being a set-up, and that the krogan probably just wanted him dead, he could hear a weapon gearing up. Shoving the new guy down to the ground, he pulled out his sniper. While this wasn't exactly the best way to get back in the fight, he had to admit it felt damn good to hold in his hands again.

"Why didn't you gthink this was a set-up?"

"Let's just say being on the "good guy" side of this is new to me."

"Great, I always dreamed of a back alley firefight with an ex-merc." Glancing over their cover, he could clearly see three vorcha at the other end of the alley, probably two or three more he couldn't see. They always travelled in fairly large numbers, even for a small hit.

Next to him, the other turian asked, "Really?" Though he clearly whiffed the safety protocols of this meeting, he pulled out an SMG and was doing good work suppressing the Vorcha. Garrus had to give him that much credit.

But that didn't excuse his question, and he rolled his eyes. "No, this is hardly my favorite place to get murdered."

"What, do you have places you'd prefer?"

"For practicality? Gun expo or military base. For style? Gardens, electronics stores, antique shops, but only if they're classy."

Even though he seemed caught off guard and a little stressed, the guy laughed. "You're insane."

"What else did you expect? A healthily functioning ex-Spectre hunter?"

"You got me there." They downed one of the Vorcha, and another was at least down for the count because Garrus got a good shot straight through his leg, but the other three that they'd seen were still putting up a fight. His shooting buddy said, "On your left." Garrus swiveled and got a headshot on one of them while he was trying to get in for a closer shot.

Then the guy asked, gesturing to the gun, "Do you bring a sniper everywhere?"

"Yeah. This is my favorite gun." Garrus got the another Blood Pack goon when it popped its head out to check for them. But just as he was going to tell the other turian to close in on him, the final vorcha came out from behind the corner, holding his shotgun to the head of a civilian. From the looks of him, a shell-shocked shopper. Lowering his gun, Garrus said, "Fuck."

"Drop your weapons or I kill him."

The other turian stood up without even thinking about it, letting his SMG clatter to the ground. Garrus was looking between the two, trying to calculate what made the most sense. But seeing someone scared, he started wondering what Shepard would do. The bigger surprise was that for the first time in over a month, thinking of her didn't hurt so bad. Before he could get lost in the feeling, his shooting partner toed him. "Vakarian, drop the gun." He growled, still not quite sure how to handle the situation, but did.

"Good, now-"

After taking even a second to look at the vorcha, he realized none of them had a chance if they let him call the shots. He remembered the Blood Pack members he'd fought while on the Normandy; prisoners weren't their speciality. Taking a page from Shepard's book, he pulled out his pistol, used his visor for quick aiming, and shot. The vorcha dropped, leaving a mortified hostage standing in front of his corpse. Garrus told him, "Get out of here."

Guy didn't have to be told twice.

As he picked his sniper back up, the turian asked, "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"The most terrifying woman with a pistol in the entire Galaxy." Lucky for Garrus, the guy let him leave it at that.

They walked up to the last vorcha left, his leg bleeding. "You tell your boss that he better watch his ass around the wards, or he'll be dealing with us." For a second, the vorcha just stared at them, but then Garrus added, "Go!" And the vorcha didn't need to be told twice, either.

It wasn't geth ships and Reapers, but for a minute there, he felt like himself again. The person he was with her. Sure, that still fucking stung, but it didn't feel empty. It was the first thing that didn't feel empty in a long time.

Next to him, the turian chuckled. "That was pretty forward, assuming I want to team up with your crazy ass again."

"Says the man who begged me to help him." Holstering both of his weapons, he was ready to walk back onto the streets. They didn't need to fight everyone on Omega tonight. But walking side by side with this turian, his wheels started turning. He didn't want to lose this feeling. This was the closest he'd felt to her, to himself, since before the Normandy's destruction ripped all that away from him. He tried to act casual, but he knew what he was offering wasn't casual. It was fucking life or death. But maybe that's what made it feel right, like what he should be doing. Garrus asked, "What if this wasn't a one time thing?"

They walked out of the alley, and his new friend seemed to think it was a joke, his adrenaline-boosted shoulders still shaking a little. "What, asking me on a date here?"

"I'm serious. You were right, the mercs run these people into the ground. Let's do something about it." The turian stopped dead, next to him. Maybe Garrus was reaching, and maybe this was crazy, but... "I'm game if you are."

"Serious?"

"Serious."

He couldn't really make out his face, if he thought Garrus was talking out of his ass. And he didn't really look too sure of himself when he finally looked at the sniper, but he started to smile. There was a fire there in his eyes that Garrus could see growing. "Alright, I'm game, too."

"Good." Just as they started walking again, Garrus found himself in a situation so untactful that it was almost Shepard-like. Maybe that was a good sign. Scratching his head, he asked, like an idiot, "Since I just agreed to risk my ass with you, what's your name, anyway?"

"Lantar." The guy extended his hand and Garrus shook it. And when he did, it felt good, like he was finally doing something with his life again. Maybe things were starting to look up for him, even without Shepard. He already got one guy to join his own, reckless crusade. The turian named Lantar finished off with, "I'm an ex-informant for the Blue Suns, Lantar Sidonis."

///

OH BOY I was such an asshole writer about avoiding his name til the end.

I'm sure quite a few of you figured it out before we got there, but I'm still hyped about doing it.

Anyway, much thanks from my patrons:

Danyell Jones

Amy Connolly

If you want to support my stories (and a future of being fandom trash on Twitch with y'all) please check out my patron options in my bio or on these sites:

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[forlornmelody]

Double the Trouble Chapter 6 -- Miss Communication

Rating: Explicit (other chapters are NSFW)

Ship: FemShep x Femshep Clone // Shenko, eventual OT3

AO3 Links: Chapter 1 // This Chapter

Summary: Shep had planned to spend another night alone. Instead she has a surprise visitor--one she had never expected to see again.Unapologetic consensual clone smut.

Note: Well, one year after the most recent chapter, I finally get around to updating this thing. Oops. This is a sequel to Spare Parts, but obviously you can read this without reading the other fic. I’ve spent the year developing the characters and their story arcs, so this smutty crack fic now has plot! Lemme know what you think. 

What the hell are you doing here, Shepard? She stood in front of the door, boring holes into it with her gaze. Maybe if she stared long enough the hammering in her ears and chest would fade. So far no luck. Shepard needed to not panic. First step—control her breathing. Deep breath in; deep breath out. Her chest felt like lead. Second step—stay grounded. The door is green. There are six rows and six columns of rings in that grate. That would make—36 diamond…thingys. Yeah. We’ll call ‘em thingys. Just as her stomach slowed its churning, someone tapped her shoulder.

“You gonna say the password, bitch? Or are you going to just stand there all day?”

Shepard whipped around, grabbing him by the wrist. She didn’t waste time before bending it the wrong way. “Get your hands off me.” So much for keeping things under control.

“Hey! Let go.” He reached for his pistol.

Fat chance, big guy. Shepard took a breath, channeling her adrenaline towards her eezo nodes. Her eyes glowed, and she lashed out with just enough force to knock his pistol out of his hands. It barely moved. Shit.

___________________________________

“What would you like to talk about today, Shepard?” Her therapist leaned back in her chair, balancing a datapad on her lap.

“I need you to authorize a new biotic amplifier.”

“Mm. Are you ready for a new amplifier, Shepard?”

Narrowing her eyes, Shepard tried to keep her voice level. “I’ve been ready for months, Doctor.”

“Please, call me Susan.”

“Authorize the damn amp, Susan. We’ve talked through everything—“

“About your military service, yes. Your recent personal relationship with Major Kaidan Alenko, even. Your brief association with Thane Krios. But what about your childhood?”

“I dealt with that shit years ago. No need to bring it up.”

“Your insistence on avoiding the subject is telling, Shepard.”

_____________________________________________

Shepard stared down gun’s barrel, bracing herself as she heard the safety click. Maybe next time don’t pick a fight with only half your body working, dumbass.

“Your amp short out, freak?” The thug’s finger slid towards the trigger.

She held up her right hand. The left remained stubbornly at her side. “Must’ve left it at home.” Shepard put on her most winning smile. I’m so sorry, Kaidan.

BANG!

Shepard fell to the ground. The door slammed behind her, and Shepard caught herself with her right hand. She groaned as her wrist cranked under the full weight of her body. A twitch in her left arm.

“What the fuck is going on out here?” Jane shouted from over Shepard’s shoulder.

The thug dropped his pistol, backing off. “N-nothing Jane. I—we—”

“That’s Ms. Doe to you, asshole. Now get out of here before someone calls the cops.”

“Yes Ms—“

“I said out.”

The thug scrambled out of sight. Shepard looked up, half-expecting her to offer a hand. Of course, she had forgotten who she was dealing with. Jane glowered down at her, folding her arms. “What are you doing here?”

Grabbing onto the door, Shepard dragged herself up. “We need to talk.”

“If I wanted to talk, I would’ve returned your calls.” Jane turned around, ducking back inside, but leaving the door open.

Shepard followed, rotating her wrist. “Could we talk somewhere else? A park? A different bar? Hell, we could even go back to my therapist’s office and I wouldn’t even—”

Jane stopped, looking over her shoulder with a smirk. “This place not good enough for you?”

Shepard clenched her fist. Oh no, this place would be perfect. Discreet. Dim lighting. Loud televisions. Full of private rooms for its loyal customers. Well compensated and well armed bouncers in case shit hit the fan. Plenty of alcohol. If only Shepard could breathe in this fucking shit hole. “Too many memories,”  she managed to spit out.

“That’s one thing about not having a past.” Jane stepped inside one of the private rooms. Shepard noticed with relief that it had a desk, not a bed. “No baggage.”

Despite all the alarms needlessly blaring inside her head, Shepard followed. “Jane, please. I can’t—”

Jane whirled around, her eyes dark with hate. “Do you have any idea how many people begged the Alliance to send you back to Earth during the Invasion? But you were too busy kissing alien ass to even bother.”

Shepard knew she should keep her voice down, that Jane only knew how to push her buttons. “You think it was easy for me to leave? I had to! We couldn’t fight the Reapers on our own!”

“You owed the Council nothing! They covered up your death. Conveniently forgot about Sovereign.” Shepard’s pulse pounded in her ears.  “Ignored the Collectors. Allowed the Alliance to arrest you after Bahak.” Shepard’s throat closed in on itself.  “And then,” Jane jabbed her finger in Shepard’s face, “they all came groveling, asking for your help when the Reapers showed up. Not once lending a hand to our system or its colonies.”

Shepard backed up into the door closed behind her. Her body shook. “Is that what Brooks told you?” Something flashed in Jane’s eyes. “Or what did she call herself at Cerberus? Rasa?”

Jane’s arm collided with Shepard’s throat, pressing her up against the door. Not enough to cut off her breathing, but just enough to hurt. “Don’t you dare talk to me about her.”

She should’ve probably held up her good hand in surrender. She should’ve backed down. Instead, Shepard stared down her clone, even as she started to see stars in her eyes. “What did she do to you?”

The clone dropped her so she could storm off to the other side of the room. “What’s it matter to you? She’s dead.”

Taking a few gulps of air, Shepard rubbed her throat. That’ll leave a bruise. “Shit. Jane...whatever...whoever Brooks was, I’m sorry you lost her.”

Jane snorted, pulling a small rubber ball from her jacket pocket, and bouncing it off the wall. “You’re a real trip, you know that?”

“What are you talking about?” Shepard must have hit her head on the way down.

Her clone spins around, her eyes flashing with rage. “You kill my...partner, and then you have the nerve to say you’re sorry??” She stretches out the O, as a reminder of just how different their origins were. Streets and a lab. A womb and a test tube. A homeworld and a space station. “Is that how you won over the tribunal? By apologizing?”

“Cute.” Shepard rubbed her face, trying to think, replaying the Clone’s words in her head until they made sense. “Hey. Look. This may be hard for you to believe, but if Brooks is dead, I had nothing to do with it.” She snorted, using her good hand to gesture at her body. “I mean, look at me. I can hardly dress and feed myself as it is, how the hell am I taking out hits on people?”

“You didn’t kill her after the war, genius.” Jane leaned against the wall, bouncing the ball harder and faster. Her fists started to glow. “Guess it was hard to notice her body with all the other mercs.”

Shepard’s face jerked up to look at her. “On the Normandy?” She blinked. Jane nodded. “She didn’t...Oh. Of course you don’t know. You didn’t see anything after you...fell.” She swallowed hard, the look of horror on the clone’s face after she dropped from the Normandy still burned in her brain. Breathe. “We arrested her. Sent her to some top-secret facility with other terrorists...I don’t even know where it is.”

Jane finally deigned to look at her, her mouth hanging open. “Brooks is alive?” The ball fell from her hand, bouncing several times before skidding to a stop. “Rasa is alive?”

Shepard took a deep breath, rubbing her bad arm. God, it was cramping so bad. Like pins and needles. “As far as I know, yeah. I mean, for all I know the Reapers took out the facility along with everything else. But I had nothing to do with it. I can swear to that.”

Stepping towards her, Jane asked softly. “Do you know where she is?”

Shit. “I...I don’t. Even if I did….I I don’t have the authority to release that information.”

Snorting, Jane nodded her head, unsurprised. “You don’t trust me. That’s...fair.”

God, she wanted to. “Two spectres and a councilor have to approve visitors. Doesn’t happen to often.

“You’re making that up.”

“Nope. Read that section of the Spectre manual the night after we...ran into each other.” Shepard swallowed, the taste of her still in her mouth.

“Repeatedly.” They both snickered. Jane kicked her foot back and forth. “What do I need to do to get that information? Money? Information?” She took Shepard in slowly, reading her, probably. “Sex?”

Shepard turned abruptly to hide her blush. “Bribery? Really?” She scratched the back of her neck. “I’m not even sure I count as a Spectre anymore.”

“Bullshit. You saved the galaxy, how many times? They’re not going to fire you over an injury.”

“I’m not exactly battle ready, Jane.” Shepard sighed. “I’ll talk to Kaidan about, okay? He’s still active. He’s on better terms with the politicians, anyway.”

Jane watched her closely, arms still folded.

“You don’t believe me.”

“Trust is hard to come by these days.”

This room really could use a few windows. Anything to keep the walls from closing in. Shepard cleared her throat.  “Is...is this about the other night?”

This time, Jane blinked at her. “What?”

“...I thought you were mad.” She could feel the heat burning in her cheeks. “Me and Kaidan….Kaidan and I...we...we kind of lost track of you after.”

“After we fucked, you mean.” Jane smirked at her discomfort.

“Well, yeah.” Shepard chewed her lip. “You didn’t get any aftercare from us and---”

“I’m mad about Brooks, not being your unicorn. Because I’m. Not. Anyone’s. Unicorn.” Jane pulled the ball back into her hand biotically, passing it from hand to hand. She shook her head. “I’m mad that you never brought up Brooks.”

“...With the way things went down...I didn’t realize you--”

“--Cared? Please, Shepard. I’m not the monster you think I am.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Moving towards the desk chair, Shepard slipped and out of her pockets fell two small boxes. As she fumbled to get to the floor, Jane picked one up.

“Dental dams? Latex gloves?” Jane quirked an eyebrow as she watched Shepard turn as red as their hair. “You sure know how to charm a girl.”

“This sounded way more smooth in my head.” Shepard leaned against the back of the chair, sliding her index finger across the lid of the box. “What I’m trying to say is...I don’t want to use you. I mean...if you want to be exlusive with us, that’s fine. But if you want to see other people, that’s cool too.”

“So smooooth.” Jane traced her fingers across Shepard’s, laughing softly, only to frown when she saw the whites of her knuckles. “Shit. This place...it really fucks you over, doesn’t it?”

“LIke the underside of a thresher maw.” Shepard said quietly, starting to pull her hand back.

Jane grabbed her wrist. “Hold on.”

Looking up at her, Shepard swallowed hard.

“You uh...have plans tonight?” With Kaidan? She asked without words.

“Well...Kaidan’s out of system right now.” Chewing her lip, Shep pulled out her phone, shooting Kaidan a text.

Hey.

Got time for a vid call?

Jane leaned her chin on Shepard’s shoulder. “You flirt like this with everyone?”

Shepard glanced at her with narrowed eyes. “You want to fuck or not?”

Both of them stared down at the phone, waiting. “What if he’s on duty?”

Chewing her lip, Shepard brushed her nose with hers. “How about dinner?”

“Sushi?” Jane smirked.

“Are you going to blow up the fish tank this time?”

“Only if you ask nicely, Shepard.”