#krogan pillows save me

[ereborne]

my boss has not made a more general announcement about how she's fricking bailing on us. literally already gone multiple states away. taking a new position elsewhere! so I keep being in meetings where she is notably not, explaining to the other attendants why precisely that is so, and I'm getting a lot of immensely cathartic 'oh what the *mic cutoff*' reactions

office worker tip #whatever: outsource your outrage to people who are not direct-reports, because you deserve to hear someone call (or at least see muted people mouthing) bullshit, but unfortunately if you say it yourself your boss even from 400mi away will hear and fire you

[sxypigeon]

Shepard is done with everyone's bullshit

Chapter 2 of An Extra Extended Ending

Summary: Because I hated the ending of the third Mass Effect game so much, I made my own with black jack and hookers. FemShep x Liara with damn near every character is the third game making an appearance.

Chapter 1

***

“How long until communications can reach beyond Sol?”

“It’s unclear,” the asari comm technician said hesitantly; the hum of the ship's electronics seemed to grow in the silence. “Quantum communication seems to be unsalvageable. That just leaves the Sol relay, but our latest reports indicate it sustained damage from the firing of the crucible.”

Sparatus sighed heavily and closed his eyes; this was a hollow victory until he knew the fate of Palaven. “Is there anyone working on it now?”

“No, sir. Those reports only came in minutes ago.”

“What about the team working on the crucible?” Tevos asked. “The brightest minds in the galaxy would have the best chance of fixing it – the sooner the better.” The asari councilor paced around a circular display in the middle of the CIC of the Destiny Ascension looking every bit as impatient as her turian colleague.

“They may be able to, but there is another group we would be foolish to ignore,” Valern muttered quietly, staring at the three dimensional screen, watching the number of surviving ships increase slowly as communication was reestablished ship-by-ship.

“What are you . . .” A look of alarm crossed Sparatus’ face. “No,” the turian said stiffly as he pushed himself away from the display.

“Is it really that terrifying of an idea? It’s only a matter of time before the geth come back online. If we act soon, we may be able to keep our alliance with them intact, maybe even strengthen it.” The salarian folded his arms across his chest and eyed Sparatus intently.

He narrowed his eyes. “Or they may turn on us the moment they realize they have nothing more to gain from our alliance. It’s one thing to cooperate when there is no choice, but what would be their incentive now?”

Valern shook his head condescendingly. “The geth are not as shortsighted as you think.” He brought up the pre-fight fleet numbers. “If even a fraction of their troops survived, it would be in their best interest to repair the relays,” he stated firmly, pointing at the image. “They value knowledge above all else and what better source is there than the relays?”

“This isn’t the first time we’ve come in contact with an AI species. There is too much at risk,” Tevos said quietly from across the room. “If we act quickly-”

“We’ll what? Destroy all of the units in Sol?” Valern shouted over the asari councilor. “How many more do you think are out there? We’d be risking another war - one we are ill prepared for.”

“And you want to send them to work on the relay?! What happens when they acquire the knowledge they seek? What’s to stop them from using it against the rest of the galaxy?” Sparatus marched back to the display and brought up images of the Citadel attack nearly four years earlier. “This is what will happen. They have no use for organics. They made that abundantly clear!”

The salarian councilor shook his head in frustration. “We know how persuasive the Reapers can be and yet even after being attacked by the quarians and being on the verge of annihilating them, they agreed to a truce. These are not simple machines, Sparatus!”

“Why are you so convinced?” Tevos asked suspiciously. She walked slowly around the display toward him. “You were vocally against curing the genophage, why is this different?” She fixed on him with a penetrating stare. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Valern scoffed at the accusation. “I see I’m alone in my conviction. What more can I say to either of you?” With a last impatient glare at his colleagues, the salarian turned and strode from the room. “If not as an act of the Council, then as an act of the salarian people, the geth will be brought back online!” he called back as the door closed behind him.

A tense silence followed Valern and lingered long after he left. “Do we even know if any of the science team is still in Sol?” Sparatus asked quietly while bracing himself on the terminal in front of him.

“No, but we will know soon enough,” she said before sending out the call for help.

***

Spirits, it’s a miracle she survived, the head nurse thought as he wheeled the patient out of surgery. At least it’s a bit of good news . . . Sure could use a bit more, though.

A sea of medics split to allow the turian and human through the bustling ward. Endless lines of beds on either side of the walkway were filled with too many injured, too many that would not last the next twenty-four hours. That’s not- No, I can’t think like that. There’s too much to do to focus on something so trivial. You’re in charge of this ward, damn it! You have lives to save. . .

He squeezed the gurney between two others and began setting up IVs and monitoring equipment. I need to make my rounds soon. We should be getting another shipment of refugees from the Citadel soon- He froze and stared at the patient. She’s not supposed to be waking up yet! “Ma’am, can you hear me?” he asked, staring down at her.

The woman drowsily blinked for a moment before lifting her eyes and focusing on the turian . . . and letting out a sudden, terrified scream. “AHHHH!!!”

Damn it, not again. “Ma’am, it’s okay. You’re aboard the Destiny Ascension.” Another blood-curdling scream. “Ma’am, you’re safe! You were injured-”

“Hey! That’s enough!” Both quickly looked over to the next bed and saw the occupant giving them a stern glare. “I know turians are ugly, but you’re going to make the guy self-conscious if you keep up the screaming.”

The woman stared, gaping at the other patient, long enough for the nurse to inject a sedative into her IV. “There you go, ma’am. Just relax.” They watched tensely as the woman quickly sank bonelessly back into her pillow. Finally. I’m not going to live this down any time soon, he thought as other orderlies snickered as they passed.

“So, who do I need to talk to to get out of here?” the other patient asked after a moment.

“Myself,” he said as he finished setting up the sleeping woman’s monitoring equipment. “Is there somewhere you need to be?”

“I figured you could use another empty bed.”

“What I need is for my patients to recover sufficiently, regardless of how much they think otherwise.” He walked over to the patient and looked at her chart. Human female, numerous serious burns, deep puncture wound to the right side, three fractured ribs – well this just goes on and on. “How are you feeling, ma’am?”

“Fantastic,” she said dryly inspecting the bandages on her hands and arms. “The pain meds wore off a while ago – No! No, I’m not asking for more.”

“If you need them-”

The patient shook her head. “I’m okay. I just,” she paused for a moment and chose her words carefully, “I need to be doing something. I can’t just lay here and ��� and think. Just give me a once over before you make me stay . . . please.”

He recognized the quiet desperation in her voice and the pleading in her eyes. “Fine.” With a healthy amount of skepticism, the turian gently unwrapped the bandages on her left arm. That can’t be right- He checked the chart again. How the hell? Humans aren’t supposed to heal this quickly. This is more in line with a krogan . . . maybe even faster.

“It’s not pretty, but it’s still better than it was before,” she said quietly, examining the slightly inflamed skin.

“Remarkable is what it is.” He unbandaged the other arm and stared in numb disbelief. “There has to be some sort of mistake in your chart-”

“I think you’ll find my side is sufficiently healed as well.”

The nurse met her piercing stare before pulling back the blanket and lifting her hospital gown. Spirits . . . this is incredible, he thought after removing the gauze. “How is this possible? Even if you spent the last six hours in a vat of medi-gel, you wouldn’t be able to heal this quickly.”

“I’m not exactly a normal human.” The ward around them moved on, unaware of the medical anomaly the head nurse was observing. “So what do you think?” she asked hesitantly.

I think the galaxy needs to study you, but . . . you don’t belong in the ICU. “I can see no justification for keeping you here, but we’re going to need to get you fed and cleaned up before you can go anywhere.” He noted the change in her status in her chart, shaking his head in disbelief as he did. “I’ll send someone over with a meal.”

“Thank you.”

He turned to leave but stopped, hesitating a moment. “Ma’am . . . everything you’ve done – everyone you’ve saved . . . there aren’t words strong enough to convey the gratitude we – I feel toward you. Thank you, Commander.”

The soldier nodded numbly, not meeting his eyes.

But it never feels like enough, he thought sadly. Stay strong, Shepard. I fear we may need you now more than ever.

***

“-he’s going-”

“No, it’s-”

“Where-”

A sharp radiating pain drilled between the exhausted asari’s eyes as distant voices became clear. “It all looks fine, no permanent damage. You are cleared for duty.”

Dr. Chakwas, the med bay. . . the crash. . . Shepard. . .

“Liara? Can you hear me?”

With an enormous effort, she opened her eyes. “Yes,” she rasped out. Her throat was so dry.

“How are you feeling?”

“Not at all well.” She rolled onto her side trying to lessen the pain.

“This should help.”

Something wonderful flowed through her veins, dulling the agony. “Where are we?” she asked tentatively.

“Armstrong nebula, but beyond that no one is sure. They say the planet is habitable though, with a breathable atmosphere and a comfortable gravity.” She helped Liara sit up and handed her a bottle of water. “Finish this and then get some rest.”

She gulped it down gratefully as worry began to sink in. “Do you know what happened to us?”

“Not really,” the doctor admitted. “Whatever that energy field was, it left no physical trace other than several cases of acute epistaxis – nosebleed.” She handed Liara another bottle of water. “Your case was a bit worse, likely due to trying to help the engineers restart the core for over an hour with your biotics.”

Liara sighed tiredly, staring at the bottle, “Not that it did any good. Have we been able to reach anyone back in Sol?”

“I’m afraid not. Specialist Traynor thinks the quantum communication network is beyond repair. We will have to rely on the relays and hope someone is out there to hear us.” The doctor let her cheery façade slip for a moment, long enough to hint at the extent of the worry she was trying to hide. It slid back into place as Chakwas laid a hand on Liara’s shoulder. “Get some rest, I’ll wake you if anything changes.”

But will it ever? she thought as she stared up at the ceiling, feeling the numbing darkness pull her back under.

***

“This has got to be the most confusing hell-hole I’ve ever been to.”

“What’s so confusing about it, Mr. Vega?” Steve Cortez asked as he finished his lukewarm MRE.

“It’s not the layout or anything like that – it’s the people.” Vega pushed himself gingerly off the cot on the floor of a mostly intact office building and pulled the bottle of water from the shuttle pilot’s hands. “Thanks, Estaban. It’s like no one can tell what they’re supposed to be feeling,” he muttered, flexing his injured leg.

Cortez took back his water and scanned the area. Roughly five miles from where the beam had been in central London, a small outpost had been hastily established to tend to the injured. Understaffed and undersupplied, it was not a place of miraculous medical operations, but a last-ditch effort to save as many survivors as possible – including James Vega. “After months of hopelessness, there is plenty to be thankful for . . . and just as much to mourn for.”

“It just feels – shit, I don’t know. Maybe it’s all of that blood I lost on the trek over here, but this just feels wrong. Javik, what’s your read on the situation?”

The prothean did not move from his meditative stance across the room. “Your species celebrates prematurely and mourns before the heaviest of losses are counted.” He paused for a moment before bowing his head slightly, “But even with these flaws, it is your cycle that stopped the Reapers – whether for good or just temporarily. That is more than what can be said of my cycle.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Vega said tiredly. “Do you think – what set off the crucible?”

A sad smile pulled at Cortez’s lips, “Until I hear otherwise, I’m going to believe Shepard did.”

“I’m okay with that,” the lieutenant said as he laid back down. He was out within minutes.

“How is the human krogan?” Javik asked without moving.

Cortez rubbed his face roughly as he tried to shake the melancholy brought on by the thought of Shepard. “The medics think he’ll make it.”

“Good, our efforts dragging him here were not in vain,” the prothean said sternly. “Do not lose your determination – the fight may be over, but your people will need you and Vega.”

“That goes for you too, Javik. You’re one of us now. We aren’t about to forget what you’ve done to help us.”

Javik bowed his head in acknowledgement, but remained silent.

We’re going to need everyone, Cortez thought as he stared around the room at the other cots filled with injured soldiers. I just hope there’s enough of a galaxy left worth rebuilding.

***

“So what you’re saying is we’re screwed.”

“Not entirely,” Tali said hesitantly as Garrus and Williams stared up at the motionless mass effect core in despair. “What we’re saying is that it will take a while, a few weeks at least.”

“Assuming it’s fixable at all,” Williams said skeptically.

“I’m not saying it will be easy, Commander,” Adams said calmly, “but I think we’ll be able to get it up and running again.”

“That’s better than nothing,” Garrus offered.

Williams took a breath and nodded. “Okay, I’ll inform the crew,” she said before heading to the elevator.

“How is she doing?” Daniels asked as they all stared back at the core.

“She’s managing,” Garrus said quietly. “She still doesn’t know if she can fill the void Shepard left, but she knows she has to.”

“No one can replace Shepard, but that wasn’t ever the plan was it?” Tali asked.

“No, but it’s going to feel that way for a while – at least until we get a rhythm going,” Donnelly said. “Any luck with EDI?”

“Not yet.” Garrus headed toward the elevator. “I’ll let you know if we make contact with anyone. Let us know if there’s anything we can do topside.”

***

“Watch the right flank!” Grunt roared over the gunfire. He and his men were deep in the wards flushing out and dispatching Cerberus troops. “Take out that engineer!”

It was slow, grueling work. Street by street, building by building, the enemy was steadily falling back. They’d even managed to save a few civilians. It wasn’t their primary goal, but it did give him a sense of pride knowing he prevented someone’s death by causing another’s.

“Move up!” They were meeting fewer and fewer troops until recently, not that it bothered him. What worried him was the number of engineers they’d come across in this neighborhood. Something was brewing.

“Keep an eye out for explosives and turrets,” he growled as the last enemy fell. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

The squad moved carefully from the courtyard to the building interior. No resistance, no one at all. What are we missing? Cowards, where are you hiding?

“Let’s get out of here,” he ordered before they’d finished securing the building. “Double-time it!” This smells like a trap.

“What was that?!” one of his men yelled as the building shook violently.

Shooting out a window, Grunt bellowed, “Get out of the building NOW!” His men leaped from the window three stories up. The krogan commander followed and landed hard on the walkway below just as the building collapsed. “Those damn cowards,” he growled. “They’ll have to do better than that!”

***

I can’t wait to get off of this fucking ship. At least the food is decent – I am beyond sick of MREs. Jack checked her omni-tool for the fourth time in five minutes. What the hell is taking so long?

After arriving with an unconscious Shepard, she watched uneasily as her friend was wheeled away to surgery. The next hour was a blur of confusion, exhaustion, and anxiety. At some point she’d managed to sleep for a few hours. Now she was an irritable and short tempered ball of energy, desperate to get back to Earth and her kids.

“Keep that up and people will think you’re unbalanced,” a soft voice said behind her.

“Fuck you,” Jack said with a hint of relief. “I can’t believe they let you out. I mean – you still look like shit.”

“Thank you, Jack. You always know how to cheer me up.” Shepard sat next to the biotic with her protein bar and electrolyte drink. “What’s going on?”

“Who the fuck knows?” She stared at the table in front of her. “No communication outside of the system, Grunt is still securing the Citadel, still no word on my kids or the Normandy.”

“Earth?”

“Bits and pieces. Nothing yet on your boys in London.” She watched Shepard eat mechanically, stoic to the lack of information.

“I have to meet with the council and then after that, hopefully we can catch a shuttle back to London.”

“When’s the meeting?”

“Whenever I feel like it.”

About damn time you started telling those spineless fuckers where they can shove it. She stared at the softly glowing scars on her face and neck. Someone hasn’t been thinking happy thoughts. “So are we going to dick around here for a while to piss them off?”

She shook her head after she finished the last of the meal. “There are a few things I need to say before they start another victory tour. I’m going to need you there to keep me in check.”

A small snort of laughter escaped Jack, “You’re shitting me, right?”

Shepard stood and gave her a tight smile. “Let’s just say I’m a little short on patience at the moment.”

“Well, shit. I might have to film this.” She followed the commander with a sinister grin. “Let’s go make some councilors cry.”

***

“I don’t know what else there is to try,” Traynor said tiredly. “My expertise is on a smaller scale. I don’t know how to fix a comm problem on a galactic scale!”

Williams leaned on the terminal that had been Shepard’s in the CIC. “A galactic scale? What does that mean?”

The comms specialist ran her hands through her hair. “There are a couple of possibilities. First, we are the only survivors and that is why we haven’t reached anyone-”

“Let’s not go with that possibility.”

“Okay. Second, something is actively blocking our communications – natural or otherwise.”

“Reapers blocking communication,” the lieutenant commander said stoically.

“Or third, the mass relays are not functioning properly, due to damage or complete destruction.”

“From the crucible firing.” The CIC was silent as Williams contemplated the scenarios. “And none of these can be fixed while we’re stuck here.”

“No, ma’am.”

What are we supposed to do? What am I supposed to do?! Damn you, Shepard. It should be you here not me. “Let’s focus on the small scale then. What can we do to get the Normandy space worthy again?”

Traynor stared at the nonfunctional galaxy map as she bit her lip. “There are still several systems that haven’t come online that should have by now. There’s the exterior damage and then there’s EDI.”

“What’s the status of EDI?”

“Completely unresponsive.”

“Shit,” Williams muttered. “Do we have any idea how to get her back up?”

Traynor was silent for a moment. “I have a few ideas, but I’m not sure if they’d do any good. When Dr. T’Soni feels up to it, I’d like to get her input.”

“She was still passed out in the med bay last I checked.” She closed her eyes and let out a long breath. “Do what you can to bring up the other systems – keep me updated.”

***

“How are you holding up?”

Joker looked away from the foliage surrounding the cockpit and saw Garrus approaching. “Great,” he said sarcastically. “Crashed the ship, cracked four ribs, and my girlfriend might be dead. How about you?”

“I’m alive, that’s more than I expected to be honest.” He dropped into the seat next to the pilot. “In large part thanks to you.”

The pilot looked away. “Yeah don’t get too gushy yet. We may have to start calling this place home even if we can get the Normandy off the ground.”

“If that’s the case,” Williams said as she approached, “then I think our first priority should be finding something growing out there that can be distilled before we run out of liquor.”

“Good to know we’re on the same page,” Garrus chuckled. “I don’t suppose we know if what’s growing out there is levo- or dextro-amino based.”

“If we distill it enough it shouldn’t matter,” Joker said, staring back out at the jungle. “No protein in pure ethanol.”

Williams shared a concerned look with Garrus before speaking behind the pilot’s chair. “I’ve been talking to Traynor – she has some ideas on how to bring EDI back. Once Liara is up and about she and Traynor can start working on her.”

Joker continued staring out of the window as if he didn’t hear her. “Okay,” he finally said quietly.

***

Finally, Tevos thought as Shepard stepped through the open door. She looks much better, but are her scars glowing? “Shepard, we were beginning to worry. Who is your companion?”

The Spectre stood at parade rest in front of the asari while her comrade remained near the door. “Jack, this is the council. Councilors Tevos and Sparatus, meet Jack – a teacher at Grissom Academy. She’s here to . . . keep an eye on me while I’m recovering.”

A snort of laughter escaped the other human as she folded her arms across her chest. Shepard always did keep strange company.

“May I inquire where the salarian councilor is?” Shepard asked soberly.

“Valern has decided he would be more comfortable aboard a salarian ship,” Sparatus said stiffly. “That is part of why we needed to speak with you.”

Tevos activated the display at the center of the room showing an image of the Sol relay, it’s rings fractured and stationary. “It would seem the relays were damaged when the crucible fired. We have many of the crucible scientists working to repair it, but there’s been discussion about whether other groups should be recruited to help.”

“Why would we not ask everyone to fix it?” Shepard asked with a slight edge to her voice.

“This is the most advanced technology in the galaxy,” the turian said briskly. “In the wrong hands, this knowledge could endanger all of us.”

“So who hasn’t been invited to the party, the salarians?”

“No, the geth.”

Shepard frowned as she mauled over the information. “The geth are still alive?”

“They were never alive to begin with, Shepard. At the moment all units are offline,” Sparatus said, staring at the display. “Valern thinks they can be activated and recruited to help with repairs.”

Shepard fought to keep her face neutral. “Why not ask for their help? From where I’m standing, it looks like we could use all the help we can get. Don’t forget the rachni, they’ve also been proven to be very capable and intelligent.”

How does she not see the risks associated with her ideas? “Are you listening to a word you’re saying, Shepard? With the galaxy weakened as it is, it would take very little to change the balance of power and throw us all into another war.” Tevos turned and began to pace. “Caution is needed now more than ever,” she said as she stopped in front of the Spectre.

Shepard closed her eyes and let out a slow breath – her scars seeming to brighten as she did. “Are you suggesting we sever the alliances that we – no, what am I saying? – that I forged to win this war-”

“There’s a difference between having an alliance and handing out loaded weapons that could be pointed back at us,” Sparatus interrupted.

Despite remaining still, the marine radiated anger, enough to make the armed guards perk up. “If you intend on backstabbing your allies, then yes you will have something to worry about.”

“Commander, your vision of the galaxy is naïve,” Tevos stated impatiently. “You of all people should know what the risks associated with-”

Shepard barked out a laugh, breaking her immobile stance. She shook her head in exasperation. “I’m sorry, Councilor, but I can’t buy into the idea that I’m the naïve one. How long do you think it will take for the galaxy to find out your people have been hiding the best preserved prothean beacon in existence? Do you honestly think you will be able to remain the superior race? If it’s any comfort, I don’t think you will have to worry about the rest of the galaxy, I think your own people will be the ones to tear down your species. How many thousands of years have the asari been lied to, Councilor? Was that a risk worth taking?”

Tevos clenched her jaw as she fought her own anger. “And do you honestly think the galaxy will be better off without our guidance? Will the geth lead the way to the future or will it be the humans?” she asked acidly.

“I’d like to see what the galaxy can do together,” she said evenly. “But we can’t do that if we start severing alliances without just cause.”

Sparatus leaned over the galaxy map. “Shepard, what you’re saying is inspiring, but you can’t protect the galaxy with idealism,” he said standing beside Tevos. “The asari government will have to answer for their crimes, but what the galaxy needs now is stability . . . and someone they can stand behind-”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Shepard spat. Behind her, Jack was muttering loudly about spineless politicians. “I’m not about to smile and assure the galaxy everything is fine,” she explained as she also leaned over the map, “while you screw them over when they’re not looking.” Shepard glared at Sparatus. “If that’s what’s expected of me as a Spectre then you’ll have to accept my resignation.”

“This isn’t a matter of right or wrong, Shepard!” he said with fire in his eyes. “This is about saving our galaxy and preventing a complete collapse of the community!”

Shepard took a step back and shook her head again. “A little honesty and accountability could go a long way, Councilor. We are all vulnerable, but we have an opportunity to make all of us stronger than we were before this war!” Shepard turned back to Tevos, “The galaxy will stand behind me regardless of if you want them to or not. The question is whether you’ll be standing with us or on your own.”

The drone of the ventilation system filled the room as Shepard turned and headed to the door. “How many billions died because of the decisions you’ve made?” she asked as she paused at the door. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to-” She turned to face them. “You had four years to prepare, but none of you did a damn thing. But this guilt doesn’t just belong to either of you, though. It’s just as much mine for not doing more, for not – for not-”

“Shepard, let’s go,” Jack said quietly.

“For the sake of the galaxy, I do hope there will be a change in the balance of power.” She followed Jack out of the room without a second glance.

“That went well,” the turian muttered tiredly. “If there’s nothing else, I too would like to be with my people.” He left without waiting for a reply.

The asari councilor remained unmoving long after they left, contemplating Shepard’s words and the fate of her race. Things will never be the same again . . .

***

“They have hundreds of civilians in the buildings ahead,” the krogan scout reported to Grunt.

The commander and his men were camped out in a maintenance tunnel roughly fifteen blocks away from the Cerberus stronghold. “What defenses will we face?”

“Portable barriers and too many turrets to count. A direct approach will be nearly impossible.”

Grunt narrowed his eyes and contemplated his next move. “It looks like we’ll be needing stealth then.” Several of his men shook their heads and growled impatiently. “Complain all you want, but I can promise you we’ll kill more of them this way. These tunnels run right under them. They’ll be dead before they know we’re there. Pack it up and move out!”

The tunnels, unfortunately, were never meant to fit a krogan. Crawling on their bellies single file, the soldiers pushed the lifeless bodies of keepers from their path. The tight space was making his men agitated, something Grunt struggled with just as much. Damn those Cerberus cowards. . .

As they progressed further, voices could be heard above them. “Get those turrets up now! We’ve lost sight of the Krogans and spotted a turian cruiser near the shopping center. Where are those mechs?!”

I’m going to enjoy this. Soon voices multiplied and words became blurred – the sound of dozens of footsteps echoed down the tunnel. We must be getting close. . .

The scout signaled and the squad branched off down the numerous side passages and waited. Time to finish this.

With an angry roar the krogans sprang from the tunnels. Cerberus troops too stunned to move were quickly cut down. “No more hiding!” Grunt followed after those fleeing from the chaos.

Thick clouds of smoke flooded the building he entered, blinding him. I can still hear you, still smell your fear. Staying low, he let out an angry growl and sprinted through the fog into the nearest shooting enemy, crushing him against the wall behind him. “Who’s next?!”

As he cleared the lobby of the building more gunfire was heard outside. Those aren’t my men . . .

Turians, and lots of them, were flooding the walkways, pushing Cerberus forces back faster. Grunt growled in annoyance as he moved to the next floor. Bastards are going to have this fight finished before it gets good!

***

“That is out of the question.”

“But, Dr. Chakwas-”

“Absolutely not.”

Traynor and Liara sighed in defeat under the doctor’s stern gaze. “Can we at least inspect Glyph to see if he can be brought online?” Liara asked impatiently.

“Only if you plan on doing it here in the med bay so I can keep an eye on you,” she said shortly. “I am completely serious about not using your biotics. Twenty-four hours and not a minute less.”

“Okay then,” Traynor said hesitantly, “we can at least brainstorm about what that energy wave was.”

Chakwas shook her head tiredly, “All of the symptoms were very mild and nearly identical: loss of consciousness, headaches, and nosebleeds.”

“All electronics were rendered useless, but chemical and biological systems remained mostly unaffected,” Liara muttered thinking of the glow stick Donnelly lit in engineering before the crash landing.

“It would have to have been something mostly inert to have passed through the entire ship, but leave little damage,” the comms specialist said thoughtfully as she pulled up a chair opposite Chakwas and T’Soni.

“But everything affected by it seems to be salvageable,” Chakwas said as she examined the crew’s medical logs since the crash.

“If it is inert, then there would have to have been a lot of it.” Liara shared a look with Traynor. “You’re thinking about a wave of dark matter, aren’t you? Like a dark matter EMP?”

“Neutrinos to be specific. Dark matter alone can account for ninety-five percent of a system’s mass. Neutrinos are only formed when something expending a lot of energy happens like a supernova or a nuclear reaction-”

“Or a relay firing?”

“It would seem like a logical jump,” Traynor said with some hesitation. “It’s been observed in very low levels after a ship has used a relay.”

“So, if that’s what it was then how did it drain nearly everything of potential energy?” Liara asked, letting her head fall into her hands.

“Liara?”

“I’m fine, it’s just a headache.”

“We’re stepping well past my area of expertise.”

The bay was silent for a moment as the women thought. “I do have one rather unsettling question,” Chakwas said calmly as she put down her notes. “If we can restore function to our omni-tools and maybe even EDI, could the Reapers also be restored – assuming of course that they were affected at all? Are they simply in a state of inactivation?”

The room fell silent.

“That would also be a logical leap,” Traynor said quietly.

***

Jack glared as their shuttle veered away from their intended destination. “Shepard, this doesn’t look like Earth.”

“No, it does not. Apparently we’re having a layover at the dreadnought up ahead.” Shepard felt a chill run down her spine as the small shuttle entered the cavernous hanger. I don’t think we’ll be leaving any time soon.

“That’s one hell of a welcoming party,” Jack muttered, eying the scores of armed soldiers assembling at the landing zone. “This normal procedure or are we just special?”

“We are special,” she sighed. The shuttle door opened with a hiss as Shepard exited. Immediately the soldiers came to attention and held a salute. I am not ready to be back to this.

A lone soldier marched briskly through the ranks of the others and stopped in front of Shepard with a crisp salute. “Welcome aboard, Staff Commander Shepard.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Shepard tried not to think about how much she didn’t want to be there as she returned the salute. “I asked to be taken back down to Earth. I’m a bit confused why I’m here.”

“If you’ll follow me, ma’am, Admiral Ahern will be able to answer all of your questions.”

Shepard came to a sudden stop. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you referring to Admiral Tadius Ahern of Pinnacle Station?”

“Yes, ma’am, I believe that was his previous assignment,” he said stoically as he turned and led them across the hanger.

“You want to fill me in on who this guy is?” Jack asked quietly as they neared the elevator.

“I may have . . . won the admiral’s apartment on Intai’sei in a bet a few years back.”

Jack shook her head a few times before finally saying, “Queen of the fucking girl scouts . . . Have you even set foot in the place?”

“Once,” she admitted as they entered the spacious lift. “I was a bit preoccupied with stopping a rogue spectre and his army of geth from wiping out the galaxy.” Shepard found herself syncing back up with the strict protocols usually practiced on larger ships, a long way from the casual atmosphere of the Normandy. What I wouldn’t give to be back there. . .

“Commander Shepard, it’s been a while,” the gruff admiral said as the group entered the combat information center.

“Yes it has, sir,” she said, saluting. “I see you still haven’t retired.”

“Can’t do that without a retirement home, now can I?” Ahern waited for his men to disembark before continuing. “This your protégé?”

Jack frowned, looking mildly insulted. “Hell, no.”

“She’s a friend,” Shepard said with a grin. “I don’t mean to sound rude, Ahern, but why the hell am I here?”

The older man chuckled and motioned them to follow him. “With Admiral Hackett beyond Sol and Admiral Anderson deceased – a great man, the galaxy is a worse place without him – I am the highest ranking officer. It’s my job to make the big decisions.”

Shepard nodded silently, her throat suddenly unbearably tight.

“I’ve been contacted by the salarian councilor,” he continued. “It seems he wants our help with a project.”

“I’m guessing it has to do with the geth,” Jack said dryly.

“That it does. Not long after the crucible fired and we restarted the systems on the ship, we began sending ships out to retrieve as many alliance fighters as we could before the poor bastards suffocated. Some of our ships also brought back geth fighters. I’m thinking we must have over a hundred of them in the hangar wherever we could find room.”

“Are any of them online?” Shepard asked. They came to a platform overlooking the entire CIC as well as one hell of a view of Earth from the enormous widows ahead of them.

“They weren’t initially,” he said leaning on the railing. “I had some of our techs try to jump start them, but it’s a slow process. We are able to bring up basic processes, though.” He paused, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. “The problem is what happens if we can’t bring them back online completely. And now I’ve got the salarians breathing down my neck demanding access to them, but I’m not entirely sure if their interest in them is honorable.”

Shepard stared out the windows at Earth, feeling a wave of grief washing over her. “You want to help them, but don’t trust the salarians.”

“Organic or not, they came to our aid. Hell, I’m thinking of commissioning a memorial for them in London,” he said wearily with a bit of humor.

“And that’s why I always liked you, sir.”

“That’s touching, but I was hoping for a bit more feedback than that.”

She closed her eyes and took a long breath before answering. “What I know is that the turians and asari would rather leave the geth as they are.” Shepard shook her head sadly. “I haven’t spoken with the salarian councilor since shortly after firing the crucible, but I think you have good reason to hesitate.”

“I should have kicked his ass while I had the chance,” Jack muttered. “The prick wouldn’t stop going on about how saving Shepard’s life was a waste of time.”

“What stopped you?” Ahern asked, grinning.

“I was too busy fixing his and everyone else’s fucking omni-tools.”

“Shame. So what is your official recommendation, Commander?”

“For now,” she said after a moment, “allow them hands-off access. Be open to consultations, but have your men continue to take the lead on this. I’ve never known Councilor Valern to offer assistance out of the kindness of his heart.”

“That is as good of a plan as any.” He signaled one of his men to meet them. “Lieutenant Riley will show you to the armory and also get you fitted for a set of armor. There’s no telling what the situation down there is like with most of the comms down. It was good seeing you, Shepard, and meeting your protégé. Stay safe.”

Jack flipped him off before following Shepard.

***

Notes: Thanks for reading! I planned on adding more, but I forgot this existed for a few years and then lost the second half of this chapter. I'll see if I can track it down. :P

[theoriginalladya]

Lonely Sunday Morning (fanfic)

So, a bit of a setup here:  some 4-5 years ago maybe(?) I created Michaela Shepard to RP with @scarletthalloran‘s Kaidan Alenko.  During that time, she introduced me to Levi Kreis’ songs.  Several in particular stood out as really good Mass Effect inspiring, but Lonely Sunday Morning just spoke to me on another level altogether.  Ever since then, I’ve been trying to finish a fic I started for her tied to that.  Tonight, I finally finished it.  

Here you are, my dear!  I’m so sorry it took so long, but just know these two are always in my mind, and though short lived, I had a blast playing Michaela with your Kaidan! :)  <3

(under cut for length)

Setting:  Normandy   post-Thessia

On AO3 here

~~~

Like a lion through the high grass of the savannah, exhaustion stalks her every move, and with each mission, every battle, it is only getting worse.  If she feels anything, it is the weight of every minute, every hour, every day that passes since fleeing Earth and the Reaper attack.  It doesn’t matter that it was for the good of the galaxy; it still hurts, and moving the entire process forward is a painful battle of its own, at times even against herself.  She is drained; no doubt about it.  Spent physically, emotionally, any and all ways a body, mind and spirit can be wrung out.  But the missions come with such frequency and with very little of the precious downtime in between, she feels as if she is perpetually cracked, her life seeping out through the fissures.  

The war is taking its toll on her crew as well. On her friends.  Mistakes have been made.  The risks are starting to outweigh the benefits, but what other choice is there?  The fate of the galaxy is on the line and they, she, is the only one who can get them there.  Winning is the only option; well, not the only, but failure certainly isn’t in the cards. Not if she has a say in it. At the very worst, they die trying, and if that is their destiny, at least they will leave better counsel in place for the next cycle.

Shepard’s towel slithers down her body to form a muddled heap at her feet.  She chooses to ignore it and the many regulations drilled into her during basic so many years ago, instead opting to crawl straight beneath the sheets.  Temptation is a dangerous thing, she recalls hearing somewhere.  Right now, temptation wins out, though guilt tracks her quickly on its heels and attempts to gain traction … to no avail, the shower having taxed all remaining strength to push it away.  

So close, she thinks as her head hits the pillow, tears finally forming as the truth wraps around her like a shroud.  We were so damned close … and now we are even further away than before …

The dampness of her hair soaks the pillow and case, but she doesn’t care.  Her eyes close, blessed sleep just within her grasp.  To escape the failure, if only for a fleeting moment.  She wants, needs, to recharge.  To process.  To find a way to cope so that she can charge forward tomorrow as they need her to …

Bedclothes drawn over her shoulders, the soothing light from the fish tank the only source of brightness in the room, reality smacks her in the face with the force of a krogan headbutt, and she shudders. Realization, even at this depth of exhaustion, is not kind; it doesn’t matter how tired she is, how badly her body wants to fade into unconsciousness, her brain is unwilling to accommodate her and will not shut off.  Focusing on good times, envisioning familiar, friendly faces – none of that will help. Distraction comes in many forms, but right now, behind closed eyelids, all she sees are tactical plans, desperate fights for survival, and the face of defeat … behind a mask and a sword .... Like an old school horror film, it replays over and over and over …

A scream builds in her throat, the desire to yell and curse and blast anyone or thing close enough to her in this moment. She needs rest, dammit!  If she’d only been a little faster, smarter, stronger on Thessia, they wouldn’t be in this situation.  She cannot afford another mistake on that magnitude!

Biting back a half sob of frustration and anguish, she sits up and wraps her arms around her legs, dropping her forehead to rest on her knees.  It’s too much.  I can’t keep doing this.  WHY WON’T YOU LET ME SLEEP???

The inner voices that often chide her during such times remain suspiciously silent this night.  The replay of events on Thessia, however, do not.

Her chest aches, just the tiniest bloom near her heart, but it grows exponentially and spreads, its menacing tendrils burrowing deep.  Her head starts to ache, beginning in her temples and slicing outward, searching for all of the most inconvenient and uncomfortable places …

This, however, she is prepared for.  Without lifting her head, she extends her hand to the nightstand drawer and pulls it open.  She fumbles a moment, eventually settling upon the small bottle of painkillers that the doctor provided weeks ago.  The rattle from within assures her there are at least two left; it is enough. She pops them into her mouth and downs them without water.  Enough is enough.  Maybe this will help the other issue as well.

The bottle falls to the floor from nerveless fingers and she prays the relief comes quickly.  It won’t last long, but if it can take the edge off, perhaps it will also allow her mind to be at ease and sneak stealthily past the images into unconsciousness …

Ten minutes past.  Twenty.  As the thirty minute mark comes and goes, a lone tear leaks from closed lids and trickles down her nose to drip silently into the sheets.

Opening her eyes, Shepard sits up, a sigh of frustration easing past her lips.  She turns her attention to the tank, eyeing the creatures inside, desperately wishing for a way to escape reality for just five bloody minutes with no other care in the world.  Just five damned minutes -- she isn’t greedy! -- to rest.

Rolling to her feet, she grabs the offensive towel out of spite; she could ignore it again but the risk of tripping in her current state outweighs any momentary rebelliousness.  With a flick of her wrist, she tosses it in the direction of the sofa … and then groans when it falls behind it.  Nothing, it seems, can be a win these days …    

It's then she notices her last chance, her one saving grace.  Lying on the coffee table and flipped onto its face is her music datapad.  She crosses the room in three strides and grabs it as well as the earbuds and returns to bed.  A simple touch of her finger to the pad starts the playback.  Something soothing and gentle, she hopes. Something that will transition her failure into sleep so she can get proper sleep to deal with whatever the reapers or Cerberus throw at her next.  You win some, you lose some, she recalls her father saying once so many years ago.  With a sigh, she thinks, Yeah, Pop, but today we lost an important one … one that might just keep us from winning the whole thing ….

She desperately hopes she is wrong on that count.

Lying back, her eyes close and she sighs heavily as the first soft strains of piano filter in.  It isn’t any song she is familiar with, but it has a nice sound to it … and then a deep, powerful, rich voice starts to croon.  Resonate.  

She bolts upright, eyes wide, breath tight in her chest.  She knows that voice!  This isn’t some professional recording, either – there’s a scratchiness in the background that suggests it was recorded over omni-tool.  It also does nothing to hide the way the notes, so vibrant and compelling, meld with words that pull a deep and purely emotional response from within.

I can still taste you on my lips

I can still smell you on my sheets

I can still feel the way you tremble

When I hold you close to me

All thought of blissful peace in unconsciousness flees with the strength of a biotic flare.  And she doesn’t care …

It's like everything about you

Is everything I need

Waking up without you

Is gonna be the death of me

I'm not so use to silence

I can't find you anywhere

The tears are automatic -- between lyrics and music, she cannot help it.  With shaking hands, she lifts the datapad and searches for clues to its owner because it certainly is not hers.

 ~ n ~

 Wearily, Kaidan exits the lift and enters the cabin as silently as he can.  He’s aware, from EDI, that Shepard retreated here after speaking with the asari Councilor, Admiral Hackett, and following up with Liara.  There is a pattern in her retreat, one he isn’t certain she’s aware of, but now is hardly the time to argue about it.  Her constant state of go, go, go in the face of so much adversity without recharging is of concern to him.  She is their pillar of strength at the forefront of this crusade, and she needs it as much if not more than any of the rest of them.  

Still, she is who she is, and that isn’t worth arguing about either; thus the head start in the hopes she might take advantage of the opportunity and for once give in to her own needs.  The fact that she’s here in her cabin suggests she may have.

He enters to darkness, the glow of the fish tank his only guide, but it’s more than enough, particularly for someone used to taking refuge in dark corners for torturous migraines.  He maneuvers through the cabin with grace and skill and very little if any sound …

Until he realizes Shepard is sitting unnaturally upright in the middle of their bed.  Starlight from the overhead window streams down over her; it’s more than enough to see she is shaken.  Something about it, something he can’t put into words, leaves him uneasy.  She turns toward him, their eyes meet, and he finds something hauntingly familiar there.  “Shepard?”

“Kaidan ...”

Her voice is but a rough rasp of a whisper, but her eyes remain on his, on him. He swallows back wariness and descends the steps to sit on the edge of the bed. “Are you alright?”  He is hesitant to reach out in case it startles her, and yet he cannot help himself.  “Have a bad dream?” he asks as he laces his fingers with her free hand.  “Is there something I can --”

She touches a datapad he didn’t see, and the air around them fills with sound.

“It's a lonely Sunday morning

Cuz you left me without warning

And I don't know how to make it through this lonely Sunday morning…”

The words and music are as familiar to him as breathing, but his eyes widen in shock as she sings along.  “How did you …?”

She hands over what turns out to be his music pad.  The one, he realizes, he never tucked back away in the drawer where he normally leaves it because they arrived early to Thessia and the situation there far more dire than anticipated ....

“Kaidan.”  

Her voice cracks on his name and he winces at the pain in it.  “Shepard, let me explain.”

She sets the pad aside and lifts her other hand to frame his cheek, turning his face toward her.  “No need,” she whispers before leaning over to ghost a kiss across his lips.  “I only have one question - why didn’t you tell me?”

He sighs – half in relief, half at the weight of having kept this from her for so long.  “I …”  He drops his gaze to their joined hands.  “Losing you hurt,” he replies.  It’s a simple excuse, too simple for what they’ve been through, but it’s the truth. “I needed a way to let that pain go.”

Against his cheek, he feels her hand tremble.  “Do you … do you think … maybe you could teach me?”

“Hey.” He moves the pad out of the way and pulls her over onto his lap, wraps his arms around her, hums softly with the song. “Next time we’re on the Citadel?”

She nods, tucking her head against his shoulder.  The song kicks into a repeat cycle, softly filling the air around them. “Sing for me?”

He presses a soft kiss to her forehead.

I can still taste you on my lips …

[forlornmelody]

Take Your Girlfriend To Work Day

Rating: E (it’s smut with a little bit of plot thrown in)

Fandom: Mass Effect Andromeda

Ship: Sara Ryder/Suvi Anwar

Summary:   Sara Ryder has Concerns™ about taking Suvi with her on a mission. But she's always wanted to show her the badlands of Kadara. What could go wrong?

Linkage: clicky

Note: Written for FallingOverSideways over at @spectre-requisitions-exchange. Now that reveals have happened, I can finally share this all with you!

-*-*-*

Sara would give Suvi the entire galaxy right now. The way she stretches across the tangled sheets, the light of a distant sun making her hair glow like fire. How the light glistens on her sated body, and catches in her eyes like the pools on Kadara. It’s probably why Sara sticks her foot in her mouth while her breaths are still ragged.

“I wish you had been there with me.”

Suvi’s smile vanishes and Sara feels it like a pain in her gut. “Sorry?”

Shit. “I’m not mad.” Sara swallows, pushing an errant lock out of Suvi’s eyes. “It just would’ve been nice to have you on Kadara with me, before the vaults went online.”

“When the water was toxic with sulfuric acid?” Sufi’s brow wrinkles like it did when she poured over the Scourge data, looking for solutions to a big-ass problem. 

Just keep digging your grave and lie in it, Sara. “I mean. I loved the look on your face when you looked over the data I gathered.” Sara traces the line of Suvi’s swollen lips, smug knowing their romp made them that way. “It would have been even better for you to see it in person.”

Suvi’s lips twist as she bites the inside of them in thought. “I’m sure there’s still useful data for us. Maybe we could go together next time?”

“I would love that!” Sara rolls them so that her hands are braced on either side of Suvi’s pillow, and she peppers her face with kisses, imagining them swimming together in a hot spring, or a cold one, with bikinis on, or not. Drying off on a ridiculously large beach towel and licking that now potable water right off her--

“You’re going tomorrow, right? Maybe I could come with you.”

Sara’s lips freeze on the hollow where her neck meets her shoulder, and Suvi giggles at the slack-jawed expression she gives her. “Tomorrow?”

“Aren’t you going to Ditaeon to talk with Tate about trade?”

“...Yes.” Christmas Tate’s not what sets the Pathfinder's heart racing. It’s not his colony, either. It’s all the mayhem around it. Sara can all too easily imagine an eiroch crushing her girlfriend against a boulder or rylkor whipping her off a cliff with its tail. She needs to find a reason for Suvi to stay behind. Maybe she needs more arms training? Or they could wait until they fit her with some armor? Watch some training vids? 

“Why don’t I go with you?” Suvi trails her fingertips down Sara’s spine, and suddenly she’s spineless. 

“Sure!” Sara says brightly. This is a bad idea, isn’t it? 

----

Turns out Cora’s not much different in height or build than Suvi, so the human commando loans her a set of armor, and a manual on how to care for it. Suvi walks around in it stiffly, and Sara would find it comical were it not for how the components accentuate some of Suvi’s best features. As much as she shouldn’t, not right now, Sara can’t help but imagine removing it piece by piece as she kisses her senseless. 

“Worried about me, Ryder?” Suvi says as they make their landing. 

The airlock disengages, and Sara looks around for any sign of danger. “Just don’t lick any rocks,” she says wryly. 

“But--”

“No, Suvi.” Both her and Vetra say it together.

“Fiiine.”

-----

Suvi loves Kadara. Or maybe she loves being on the ground for a change. Either way, Dr. Suvi Anwar sits on her knees, scanning a small rock, and Sara Ryder can’t look away. The sun catches in Suvi’s flame-colored hair, making Ryder wish she had brought her here sooner. She aches at the soft smile on her face, the warm glow in her blue eyes. Ryder’s in the middle of pulling out her omni tool to take a picture when--

Sara. There are weapons warming up behind you. It appears they are aiming for you, Vetra Nix, and Dr. Anwar. I suggest-- 

“Got it, Sam.” Sara Ryder says nothing to Suvi, only dropping her in a tackle and ruining the picture-perfect moment. Actually, whatever exiles who were shooting at them ruined the moment, and the thought makes Sara’s blood boil. 

Suvi squeaks from underneath her, but she doesn’t protest, especially after the first rounds hit the rocks behind them, and their shields shimmer with the ricochets. “Pathfinder?” she whispers cautiously.

“Exiles,” Sara growls under her breath. This is not how she pictured pinning Suvi on Kadara. 

“I thought--”

“They’re still around. Still wanting to shoot us, apparently.” Sara shoves Suvi behind a bolder, and squats next to her, pulling out her pistol, and deploying her combat drone. It dashes over, firing beams at their assailants, the cool evening air warming in its wake. 

Vetra looks at Sara sideways. “Really, Ryder? A drone?”

“What? Peebee showed me how to use it last night.”

Suvi glances between them, her eyes widening. “Sara?”

“It’ll be fiiiine.” On cue, the drone crumbles to the ground. Peebee will kill her later. “Well, shit.”

“We’re doomed.” Vetra sighs, powering up her assault rifle. 

“Oh ye of little faith.” Sara switches to her shotgun, firing off shots while her biotics cool down. 

Suvi giggles, and Vetra groans. “At least one of us is having a good time.”

Ryder really shouldn’t have brought Suvi with them. A little skirmish like this rarely fazes her anymore--more like target practice than a fight worth worrying about. Waste of ammo, really. But her heart thuds in her chest and her neck and shoulders tighten up at the thought of a bullet hitting the scientist next to her. Suvi’s so gentle, and kind. She’s not made for violence like this. Sweat gathers beneath Sara’s hard suit and her under armor, and itches around her joints. Her arm aches and her temples start to throb. Just a little bit longer---

There.

One exile remains, a sharpshooter with a sniper rifle that tries to pick them off like drops of water torture. Ryder ducks back behind their bolder, counting the seconds between shots. One Andromeda...Two Andromeda...Three--

Sara Ryder charges full force into her enemy, smashing him with a nova that sends his innards flying every which way. Turning with an adrenaline-fueled, shit-eating grin on her face, Sara looks at the boulder, craning to see the look on Suvi’s face. “Not bad, huh?”

“RYDER!  MOVE!” 

The ground rumbles beneath Sara’s feet, throwing her off balance. Enemy Krogan. 

“Shit!” Ryder screams as the berserker hauls her up in the air. Blood rushing to her head, Sara looks down at the battered Krogan growling up at her. “I thought I put you down already.”

“RAAAAH.” 

“Shit’s right! I’m out of ammo.” Vetra glowers, letting out a litany of Turian words SAM can’t translate. 

Don’t panic. Just grab your pistol and--One problem. It must have fell from her holster when she left the ground. The Krogan swings her back like a wet towel. 

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. 

Her biotics won’t fire--still cooling down. Ryder’s neck and temples still flare with heat. 

Sorry, Suvi. I--

A shot rings out, and Ryder sucks in a breath, bracing for a bullet wound. 

The Krogan drops her, and Sara rolls out before his body falls on top of her. What the hell??

Her eyes meet “SUVI??”

Nudging the Krogan’s body with her toe, Suvi blows the steam off the barrel of her pistol, and holsters it. She glances down at Ryder, a shy smile on her face. “You alright, Sara?” Suvi reaches out with her hand to help her up. 

“Damn, Anwar. Didn’t know you had it in you.” Vetra comes out from behind the boulder, brushing herself off. 

Sara doesn’t take her hand, too busy doing the math in her head. “Who taught you how to shoot?”

“Drack. He took me out on Elaaden. Said it would help my skills as a geologist if I learned how to shoot rocks.”

“Of course he did.” Ryder groans as she stands, checking herself for injuries. Her shoulder throbs from being yanked around like a rag doll, but other than that. “Anything I should see Lexi about, SAM?”

My scans indicate nothing but some swelling and inflammation. Though a visit would--

“I’ll see her later, SAM.” Sara has an idea. “Hey, Vetra. I think the Nomad needs an oil change.” She walks over, rummaging through the storage compartment for a very conspicuous picnic basket. 

“The Nomad doesn’t even...oh. Yeah. I’ll get right on that.” Turians don’t roll their eyes, but the way her mandibles twitch, Ryder bets Vetra would be right now if she did. Swinging into the driver’s seat, she starts the engine, and Sara scrambles to get the storage compartment shut in time. 

“Catch ya later!”

-----

“Do you ever miss them?” Their picnic long over, Sara and Suvi stretch out on the blanket, watching the sun set. 

“My parents?”

“Yeah.”

“All the time.” Suvi stares out across the lake, and Sara gets the feeling she’s not watching the clouds change color. 

“How did you find the strength to leave them?”

Suvi says nothing, and Sara wonders if she went too far as she listens to birds call in her silence. When she finally does speak Sara strains to hear her over the lap of the shoreline. “I couldn’t stay behind when there was a whole galaxy out there to explore.” She looks at Ryder, sorrowful, but without regret in her eyes. “I was miserable when I considered staying behind. My parents could tell. I was making them miserable with me.” A small laugh escapes her mouth. “It was them who told me to go. Told me they’d miss me if I left, but they’d miss me even more if I stayed with them.” Her smile slips away, and Sara would give anything to bring it back.

Think, Ryder, think. “Nice shooting earlier. You saved my life.” Sara runs her fingers down Suvi’s cheek, holding her breath as she waits for her face to change.

The smile doesn’t come back. Suvi pulls away, looking off towards Kadara Port. “Sara, I don’t think violence suits me.”

Sara drops her hand. “Oh.”

Suvi immediately draws it back to her cheek. “Don’t get me wrong. I admire what you do--the risks you take, the hard decisions you make.” She closes her eyes, taking a settling breath. “But I’d rather make my hard decisions in a lab, not with a gun.”

“I understand.”

Biting her lip, Suvi dares to search her eyes. “You do?”

“Yeah. We’re different. I’m better out in the field kicking ass, and you’re better in the lab…. doing...sciency stuff.”

Suvi’s laugh spills from her mouth like a bubbling brook. “Ryder.”

“I mean it.” Sara takes her chin. “I don’t want you to change who you are just to please me.” She’s already nose to nose with her before Suvi realizes she’s being kissed. And Sara wouldn’t have it any other way. 

While Suvi’s usually slow to kiss back, when she does, she makes up for lost time, always. She presses in, already reaching for Sara’s hair tie, pulling her hair out of that perky ponytail and winding her fingers through her hair. The motion pulls Sara closer, tighter against her mouth and she can’t help but part Suvi’s lips with her tongue, grabbing the collar of her uniform in her fist, and holding her close. 

Their hands and mouths move like binary stars, so close, but never close enough. Sara groans in frustration as her fingers roam across Suvi’s lab coat, searching for that elusive zipper. Suvi giggles, taking her hand and guiding the zipper down with her, her eyes dark with want. As the uniform falls from Suvi’s shoulders, Sara traces her tongue across her now bare skin, smiling at her goosebumps and drinking in her sharp breaths. Each freckle pattern forms new constellations, and Sara writes the racy mythologies to go with them. 

In Suvi’s sighs and goose-bumped skin, Sara finds a paradise better than the Initiative could have ever hoped for. She unhooks her bra, and finds the path between her breaths, scanning the terrain with her eyes and making contact with her hands. Suvi arches into her touch, and Sara smiles against her skin. “You mean the world to me, you know that?”

Suvi opens her mouth, but her sweet nothing is lost in her moan as Sara’s lips close around her tit. She should really take her time. They have little to interrupt them here, with the Tempest far away and Sam scanning the perimeter for trouble. But it’s been days since Sara had the chance to make love to the center of her universe, and so she dives headfirst into the gravity well, pulling the rest of Suvi’s uniform down with her. 

“I’ve missed you,” Sara whispers, trailing her lips down Suvi’s stomach. 

“Ryder. You see me every day.” 

“Not the same thing, and you know it.” Sara gives her a pointed look, and she can’t help but smile at Suvi’s parted lips. She sits up, running her fingertips up and down Suvi’s thighs, outside and inside, gently nudging them apart. 

Suvi sucks in her breath, and Sara pats her skin as she leans down. “Breathe, Suvi. I swear the air here is safe.” 

“Shh, you.” Suvi chuckles. 

Sara breathes in the scent of her pubis mons, grinning wickedly. “Make me.”

Suvi’s eyes widen, and for a moment Sara wonders if she should apologize, but then Suvi’s fingers grip her by her ponytail, pressing her between her legs and it is glorious. Holy shit holy shit holy shiiiiiiit. She never took Suvi for a dominant one, but Sara definitely want to explore more of this side of her. Tasting her, Sara gives her folds those nice long licks that Suvi loves so much. Her pushup routine comes in handy as her lover writhes beneath her. Just as Suvi starts to moan louder, Sara pulls back to wet her finger.

“Is this too much?” Suvi asks breathlessly. 

Her own mouth feels dry, and Sara reaches over to gulp some water from her cannister. “Not at all. Keep going.” She blushes at her own words. 

Suvi pushes her hands away, sitting up. Sara blinks, watching her go. “Actually, I have new experiment I want to run by you.” Grabbing Sara’s shoulders, Suvi presses her onto her back. 

Laughing, Sara replies. “Oh? What’s your hypothesis?”

“That you’ll love me sitting on your face.” Suvi’s cheeks redden as much as her hair. 

“Mm, that’s hard to quantify.” Sara smudges her lips together playfully. “But we can try it.”

Suvi crawls over her, and Sara groans as her scent overwhelms her senses. She whispers her name into her folds, sliding one finger, then two into her warmth. Gasping, Suvi grinds against her, gripping the top of her head. Sara fingers faster and harder, sucking on her clit until Suvi’s nails dig into her scalp and she calls out her name. 

The sun’s far too bright when Suvi rolls off her. “Holy shit. Holy shit,” Sara swears breathlessly. 

“Mmhm.” Suvi kisses her sloppily, running her hand down Sara’s side. “And what are...mm... our findings? 

Sara laughs into the crook of her neck. “I think your hypothesis may be right. But further tests are needed.”

“Mm.” Suvi presses a finger to her lips, looking up at the clouds as if the answer might be found there. “Perhaps we should increase our sample size?”

That notion jolts Sara off her back. “You mean like a threesome?”

“No!” Suvi laughs so loudly Sara swears the whole valley can hear them. “I meant you. Sitting on mine.” 

“Oh.” Sara stretches. “Maybe next time.” She kisses the pout right off Suvi’s lips. “Right now, I want to kiss you while you…” She grasps Suvi’s hand, guiding it between her legs. “While you…. demonstrate your expertise on the subject.”

“Sara!” Suvi shakes her head in mock humility. “I’m hardly an expert.”

Sara leans over, stealing another heated kiss. “Then maybe you should…” She can’t help her laugh. “....do a more in-depth study?” Their laughs sink into moans as Suvi trace and probes between Sara’s legs, putting just the right amount of pressure to make her beg. 

Suvi grins against her mouth, teasing her long and light, until Sara’s gripping her so hard, she swears she’ll leave bruises. Thank the stars Suvi wears long sleeves. “You like it rough, Sara?”

“Yes, please. Please.” 

Suvi’s teeth graze the skin of her neck in reply, hooking her fingers inside her and beckoning her to come undone. 

Maybe it’s minutes, maybe it’s hours later, when Sara’s always pushing Suvi’s bangs out of her eyes just to watch them fall again. “Y’know. I definitely learned something today.”

“What’s that?”

“I should bring you planetside more often.”

[funkypoacher]

51 for smut prompts for whatever pairing you'd like, please? :)

Thank yooooou for the prompt! I went with Shenko for this one. Rated E, 3476 words long, and there’s way too much talking before things get gross.51 - “What? Does that feel good?”

Snug between dozing’s haze and wakefulness’s deluge, Shepard sent her fingers on a fact-finding mission to place the whereabouts of her pills. With her face stuck in a drool-sticky pillow, it was following a full minute of fruitless fumbling that the Commander’s eyes finally snapped open. She saw the bedside table bare save her datapad; she reconciled that the bottle could be nowhere else because she needed it first goddamn thing in the goddamn morning. Shepard considered the possibility that her memory was getting hinky again; however, before the heavy breathing and hard sweating started her down a pre-meds wig-out, Kaidan was coming over, heralded by his particular gait upon the grated flooring.

For all the no-nonsense of his supremely concerned expression, his “what’s up?” sounded pretty nonchalant.

“My pills. They’re not…I can’t…” Standing, Shepard’s eyes did the room a one-over, cataloging contents and cramming them in every category except ‘found ‘em’. “They’re gone. I don’t know what I did with them—where I left them—but I…”

“Okay. Well. Shepard”—Kaidan slowed his approach to match his tip-toeing tone—”that makes sense. Do you remember the conversation we had with the doc last night?”

It clocked her like a krogan head-butt. Chakwas discussing taking Shepard off the Nalpressin; Chakwas committing to taking Shepard off the Nalpressin: it had made sense those hours ago, but now there was a black hole swallowing her insides which not even a few, favorite expletives could escape.

“Not today, Alenko,” dismissed Shepard, moving towards the door in a quick march. “I can’t start this today. I’ve got—”

“You’ve got what?” Kaidan placed himself between her and the exit. “Today is the perfect day to start this. We talked this all over last night. We made a game-plan; figured out a schedule. We—” He sighed as they stood face-to-face, their bodies separated by only two careful feet. “Look. We’ve got troops working support and evac on Dekuuna, but you don’t have to be down there. Hell, I don’t have to be down there. And I won’t be. I’ll be here, giving you whatever you need.”

“So… my drugs, right? Because I need my drugs?”

Kaidan’s expression killed her sarcastic hope stone-dead.

“Alenko, you don’t—you can’t appreciate why I need those pills. But you will.” Arms folded at her chest, Shepard paced to avoid his expression. “Give it ten minutes. You’ll see why I can’t command this ship, or run this damn war, without them.”

“I know the implants make things difficult.”

Shepard started to chafe at the sweet, supportive attempt at understanding. It ended in real laughter. “You’ve gotten a glimpse! A couple scars lighting up; a little twinkle in my eye! You have no idea how bad it gets. When I first wake up and start—and start thinking, and—” 

But there was no point in illustrating how the impending stress could have her bright and buzzing like a Silversun Strip advertisement. If Silversun Strip advertisements hawked bodily melt-downs. There was a good chance she’d have a good day, so why show her hand until necessary?

Kaidan conceded her point with a poignant stare. His voice had been run over coals and jagged concrete; it smoldered raw with awful seriousness. “Maybe not. Maybe I haven’t seen how bad it can get. But I know what Chakwas said. Combined with the Mexodoctricil, and how long you’ve been taking both… Hes, that’s something you might not come back from.”

Shepard put her back to him. Facing the music could be hard when he was the one singing.

“I told you I can’t do this unless I know there’s a future for us,” Kaidan said close behind her. “And for us to have a future… You have to be there, too.”

There was a subtle twinge; a pinch in her skin along her upper arm. She’d once described it to Doctor Chakwas as being similar to having her bra suddenly unclasp, but this was infinitely worse than allowing her tits a little down-time. Shepard knew that, under her shirt, her implants were relaxing while the rest of her refused to. What had brought her back from the dead—what kept her alive—was lighting her up like an inhuman glowstick. It was manifesting in a physical reminder of all that Cerberus had done to both her and the galaxy, and it was displaying it in a way that everyone could see.

The Nalpressin had always helped. It subdued the stress which riled the implants. It ensured that she didn’t look like a Cerberus science experiment, which, when dealing with diplomats or instructing soldiers, was pretty damn paramount.

“Neither of us are going to make it to the finish line if I can’t lead.” Shepard turned to him, her heart in steel. “Maybe that’s the cost.”

Kaidan frowned, wee and heartbroken. Shepard succumbed like the sap she was.

“I’m not sure why I said that, either.” Rubbing both eyes with her palms, she ambled into the middle of the room. “Alright, Alenko. Take point. What are we doing and how are we doing it?”

“Well”—Kaidan followed her with a suspiciously pronounced swagger—“Doctor Chakwas suggested a healthy dose of optimism. Some goodwill towards others. I thought maybe we’d work the mess. Or run down a few chore lists.” He sounded like he was quoting an instructional vid on leadership ploys. “‘The appreciation of your crew and subordinates will do wonders for your disposition and for morale.’”

“Okay, we’re breaking up.”

Kaidan’s snicker slid into a sly smile. “How about listening to music, or… Hey! You mentioned you started painting during your, uh…”

“My house-arrest?” Shepard tossed the possibility around her brain like a ball of paper. “I don’t know. I always got distracted far too easily from that. I once sat long enough that my brush dried because of a conversation outside my window. And it was a conversation about tax brackets.” She frowned. “Next?”

“Yoga.”

Shepard laughed. “Yoga? Really?”

“I’ve… heard good things. About how it helps with stress. C’mon, I’ll show you.”

Jaw ajar, Shepard positioned herself at his side. “You’ve done yoga? Mr. Adrenaline-Junky Alenko has participated in the act of yoga, of all things?”

“You know, I told mom that was a funny first name,” Kaiden baited, moving to her back. “No, but honestly? It’s not my thing. But it might work for you. Now, keep your hips like this…”

As Kaidan positioned her legs, leaving tasteless comments to flower on Shepard’s tongue, a call came over the comms requesting So-And-So to report to the What’s It, Deck C. Distracted by Kaidan’s handsy lack of distance, she missed the specifics but that was enough: the Commander remembered there was a ship running around them, and beyond that ship was a galaxy in crisis, as well as a system whose elcor civilians were being evacuated from their home planets amidst reapers, war, and chaos.

“What was that?” Shepard dislodged from the stance she’d been put in. “What’d they say?”

“It’s nothing,” Kaidan assured her, brow furrowed. He glanced at the ceiling. “Hey, EDI? Can you cut comm chatter to Shepard’s cabin, please? Have Liara relay anything important.”

“Of course, Major.”

Taking a few steps, Shepard wondered strenuously at the announcement. Then she felt it: a subtle letting of her skin at her stomach and cheek, as though a knife had sliced through flesh, forgetting to offer pain but most certainly leaving its mark.

Shepard started to sweat. She caught Kaidan’s expression. It flickered like a candle flame: wavering and then righting like everything was fine.

“Fuck.”

Making for the door which would lead to Chakwas’ reprimands and eventual relenting, Shepard glared as her XO got in the way for a second time.

“Shepard, no.”

“Alenko!”

“C’mon.” Taking her wrist, Kaidan steered her back into her quarters. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? Is this nothing?” Pulling out of his grasp and then her shirt, Shepard held her bare arms out at her side in an invitation for scrutiny. “Look. Look at this one. And this. I think I can feel one on my back. And this—and this is after something I half-heard and had a really great morning with you. I know that keeping my stress down is supposed to help, but… It doesn’t. The scars show up no matter what. And I know what I agreed to last night, but honestly? I was afraid Chakwas was going to take me off the Mexodoctricil instead. Because that? I need.”

Kaidan closed the distance between them. He had failed to plan beyond that. His beautiful eyes were simply a well reflecting back at her. After a long, presumably empty, moment, however, Shepard began to feel the weight of it: his staring, and his measuring. He studied the split skin on her arms, and, when Kaidan held her cheek, his thumb brushed back and forth over broken flesh.

“It’s not that bad, Hes,” Kaidan said as his other hand held her face, too. “And I am not going anywhere.”

Tiredly, Shepard gravitated to his touch. As Kaidan padded the offensive scar, her skin slowly awoke, yet in a way so far from scar-born shame, or guilt. It tingled, teasing a gasp to creep through her breath. His caresses caused every new inhale to be born confused, and hassled. Shepard bit her lip; hummed soundlessly under a blooming smile.

“You okay?”

Eyes closed, Shepard rested her palms on Kaidan’s chest, nodding. It spread from her cheek to the rest of her. It was the only thing she could focus on, though, in fact, she could focus on nothing, fixated singularly on swimming in this strange spiral of sensation. “Yeah. Yeah, just don’t—just don’t stop. Keep doing that.”

Kaidan sounded way too impressed with himself. “What? Does that feel good?”

Looking at him, Shepard beheld skin that glowed as well, but not with a suggestion of inhumanity or machination. Kaidan’s biotics spread across him like waves of starlight, lapping forward and bathing her in blue which was soothing, and intimate.

Shepard felt pulled from her body to a place of comfort; to a space of pillowy nothing layered in a dream. Kaidan moved closer, smelling of regulation soap, plus the woodsy cologne he was conserving by rationing its use. And he still stroked her cheek.

“I think I figured out a way to relax you,” he purred in her ear.

Shepard blearily opened eyelids that bore the weight of galaxies. “No.”

As she moved off, scooping up her sloughed shirt from the floor, Kaidan asked amidst disbelieving sounds, “what do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean that we’ve been going slow and taking our time for the last few weeks. You’ve said it a dozen times: you don’t want to rush into things. And I’m not going to let you forget that just because I need to be coddled.”

“Jesus.” Kaidan shook his head as she tucked in her clothes. “It’s not coddling. I want to help you. I want to be here for you. And letting you turn yourself into a zombie with that medication isn’t going to help.”

Shepard smirked. “But getting your dick wet is?”

“That’s not what was going to happen,” Kaidan shot back, voice deepening. He sighed his particular Kaidan sigh. “Hes, what do you want? From me? From us? Do you want someone you can trust, and who’s got your back? Or do you want someone who’s just going to follow orders? Be straight with me.”

Shepard ran a hand down her face, considering. “Well. I can tell you what I don’t want.”

Kaidan nodded once. “Okay.”

“I don’t want what happened after Ilos. I don’t—” Her steeled and steadied voice crumpled to a memory-bought sucker-punch. “I don’t want to use you again,” she whispered.

In truth, she’d been hiding behind Kaidan’s reluctance. As the weeks passed and he paid deference to his own emotional health instead of jumping the gun (and Shepard along with it), the woman had been utilizing Kaidan’s caution as a barrier. Touting that she was ready for ‘whatever whenever’, she was actually terrified.

Those years ago, after Ilos, and Saren, Commander Shepard had marched to his quarters and meant it when she said it wasn’t worth the risk; that he wasn’t worth the risk. They’d broken regs in bunking together. Circumstances had been heavy, but they were soldiers. Commander Hestia Shepard had given everything to get where she was, and some subordinate wasn’t worth the hit to her career.

Kaidan took it on the chin like everything. Shepard hated herself for that. She hated herself like she’d hate anyone who’d broken his heart. And she wanted so badly to never use him like that again.

“So don’t,” Kaidan said, looking over her expression. 

For him, it was that easy. It was part of what she loved about him.

Holding her hand, Kaidan led her to the bed. She sat, and he took her boots off. He kicked off his own, and joined her. Cuddled into his chest as they lay out, Shepard couldn’t say she was blissfully distracted, but she was comfortable.

“Does the Nalpressin just help with the implants?” Kaidan wondered, stroking through her hair. “Or does it affect something else?”

“Probably. It’s not like they made it for back-from-the-dead Cerberus science projects whose bodies can’t take the heat. Not sure there’s really a market for that.” Shepard sighed. “So, probably. It probably affects something else. Maybe it keeps me a little  calmer—a little clearer in the head.”

“You were taking it when you had the problems with your appendix, right?”

“Right.”

“Then, Shep,” Kaidan said with tender trepidation, “it sounds to me like those pills can’t be the only answer. Because you were on them and your body still broke down. You can’t do this all by yourself.” He pressed his lips to her crown, speaking against her skin. “I think you need to let someone else steer for awhile. Trust your crew, and the people around you.”

Snorting, Shepard craned her head so she could see his face. “What I’m hearing is someone wants more control.”

Kaidan smirked. “Well, you know me. And, yeah, I do. Especially if it means taking some things off your plate.”

She choked on a wave of thankfulness.

“I love you,” Shepard said, brushing his nose with hers.

“I know.”

After he’d peeled off their uniform tops, Kaidan lay between her legs, peppering her neck with kissing. His fingers drifted beneath her undershirt, stroking in circles as he explored between her collarbone and earlobe, leaving puffs of wet breath and approving sounds on her skin, Shepard meanwhile writhing dreamily. He moved to her jaw; he lingered there amidst affectionate pecks, kissing towards her lips before pulling back. His lids were heavy over beautiful, brown eyes.

“How you doin’?”

Shepard’s breath fluttered in her chest. “Who am I? Where am I?”

Chuckling, Kaidan continued lower. Pushing Shepard’s undershirt up, the attention he showed her hip bone and navel had strangled giggles thick in her throat. The sensation wavered between tickling and agonizing. It was kneading, and needling, and it was just plain nice.

Nipping her skin, Kaidan worked down her torso lower, and lower, his nose skimming along in its own teasing way, until he was letting the zipper of her pants. Shepard clutched the bed sheets.

“Kaidan…”“Is this alright?”

Feeling herself finally unfurling, Shepard melted into it. “Yes.”

As he discarded her skivvies with her pants, the arousal in her belly turned from the suggestion of wanting into angry demand. Kaidan started at her inner thigh, kissing from just above her crooked knee, but being naked, exposed, and displayed was excruciating. He was there—he was right there, taking his damn, sweet time—and the only thing that kept Shepard from exploding was a hissed “c’mon, already,” as her own finger charged towards her clit.

Kaidan batted it away. “Don’t make me tie you down, Shepard.”

The bed shifted as he did. Tossing her legs over his shoulders, Kaidan, flat on the mattress, pressed his mouth to her slit, tongue burying without the predictable preamble which would’ve allowed Shepard some composure, or prep time. But no—Kaidan slid inside, groaning to taste her, and began tongue-fucking her, her taut legs around his head held in a hard grip.

Shepard cursed silently with every flicking insertion. His tongue wriggled around to throw off the rhythm. Shepard balled her fists; she pressed into the mattress, soundless in her sublime misery. Her legs shook the longer Kaidan pushed through her folds and pulled out audibly, the evidence of her wetness smacking terribly at his mouth. At last he eased off, kissing her skin before lapping lazily, grazing her clit with no real concern—with no real care that one or two swirls would have sent her over the edge. Instead, Kaiden chased away the frenzy of her need as he slowly brought her beyond desperation, and back to simpler, sweaty, softer want with his self-indulgent licking.

“Damnit, Kaidan,” Shepard wheezed.

The man snickered. She could feel the breath from his mouth. “I know, eh? Love the view, by the way.”

As he licked long and slow at her labia, Shepard’s limbs lost their weight. Her body went numb as her orgasm began to build deep within, but it was an echo. Far away, calling for her, it was a glint of silver in the dark.

“Kaidan, please.”

Eyes wrenched shut, she felt Kaidan replace his mouth with his fingers. With the way the mattress moved, she knew he was sitting up, watching as his fore and middle fingers rubbed easily between her lips.

Finally penetrating together in a harsh pinch that immediately satisfied, Kaidan’s pumping wrist heightened in speed, clearly taking cues from Shepard’s breathing as it wavered from dead to desperate. What depth he lacked was made up by how perfectly he filled her; how he had her stretched around him, the heat of his fingers and knuckles intense. Knowing she needed something else—something more—Shepard’s lips parted to speak, but her plea came out a cry as the fingers between her legs began to pulse with a torturous, tangible hum.

“Fuck.”

She looked to him. Kaidan’s biotics blazed across his skin, collecting and culminating in an all-encompassing focus at his eyes. Shepard whined under the heaviness of that stare which pinned her in her body like hunger, or pain—something that made her conscious of only here and now. And here and now was only the throbbing of her pussy as Kaidan’s thumb pressed at her clit, his biotics thrumming through it, bringing all the numbness from her thighs and belly to concentrate until it was breaking and bursting in an orgasm that was complete, satisfying, but somehow smaller than it seemed it should have been. Shepard kept waiting for it to grow in intensity, but it tapered off.

The waves of her afterglow were soft. Kaidan’s eyes were soft.

“Whew.”

Shuffling up to lay her head on the pillow, Kaidan joined her, inviting her to cuddle into his chest. Something about his posture—a stiffness at his spine—had her eye-balling his expression.

“What?” she asked.

“I expected… theatrics.” Kaidan shrugged. “Screaming; violence.”

“Honestly? Me, too,” Shepard admitted. “It has been a while.” She smiled with lopsided pragmatism. “Who knows. Might be my sleeping pills. They make things… hazy. It could be a hundred things. But…” Shifting so she could look him in the eye, she got caught-up in staring at Kaidan’s lips instead. “It was definitely something I needed.”

Kaidan brushed her brow under an apparent pretense to push hair from her face, but her cut was too short for that. He just wanted to touch her. 

Shepard kissed him.

“Now, what about you?”

“I’m good, Hes.”

“Oh, I bet. Light as a feather and stiff as a board.” Sitting up, she hoped to inspire both their lazy butts towards something more constructive. “C’mon. You’re supposed to be distracting me.”

Where before he had touched at her brow, now he reached out to brush her cheek. It was where he’d touched her before; where their boots-knocking had started. ‘It’s not that bad, Hes…’

She could feel him on her scar just as she knew that wary distance in his eyes. How deep those thoughts went; the black pool whence they rippled.

“I told you. The scars don’t go away. Not really.”

“But I thought… I wanted to…”

Shepard’s nails scratched calmingly through his sideburns. Kaidan’s voice had cracked with self-disappointment, and the crows feet darkened. The man knew his limits, but he’d placed his bar of personal responsibility far too high. In a soldier, that was inspiring; however, back to basics—back to where he was only human—it was more pressure than a person deserved.

 “You can’t fix everything, Kaidan.”

His head canted. “I can try.”

Laying back on his chest, Shepard closed her eyes. He made her want to try, too.

[crackinglamb]

Fluff-uary Prompt 6 - Gifts

(ME - Jayne and Garrus)

“What are you up to?” Jayne asked as Garrus expertly drove the groundcar down the shattered streets of Cipritine.  He grinned from the driver's seat, his eyes alight.

“Stuff.”

“Are you going to tell me where we're going yet?”

“Nope, it's a surprise.”

“Ooh, you...” She sighed, not sure if she should be glad or suspicious of the gleeful look on his face.  She knew what day it was, but she didn't think anyone else did, or was going to do anything about it. Turians had different traditions.  And yet, she never underestimated Garrus's thoroughness when it came to details, so she wondered what he'd done.  He pulled the car into a wide parking lot, smoothly parking it in a handicapped spot near the entrance.  Jayne looked up at the familiar building where she put in a few hours a week as the Human Ambassador to the Hierarchy and made a face.  “Garrus, this is my office.”

“Not tonight, it isn't.”  He stepped out from the car and came to her side, opening what amounted to a lead-lined umbrella over her side so she was shaded from the harsh Palaveni sun, still high in the sky.  She leaned heavily on his free arm as she stood up, a stout cane in her other hand.  An ache was already setting up in her right knee.  He saw her twinge and tightened his grip on her automatically, taking more of her weight.  “Tonight, since this is the closest thing we still have that's an Embassy, everyone is here.”

Everyone...she mused.  What tricks did he have up his sleeve?

They walked slowly into the building and Jayne blinked at the sudden gloom inside, trying to adjust after the brightness outside.  “Happy Birthday!” numerous voices shouted, and the lights came back on.

“My God,” she gasped, looking around at the assembled faces.  She spotted the chrome plating of EDI's head and Joker standing next to her, leaning on omni-canes.  Ash and James stood next to them.  On the other side of the room was a contingent from the Primarch's office, including Victus himself, grinning like a cadet.  Castis and Solana were there, Sol holding something wrapped in her hands that was literally dripping coiled ribbons.  Dr. Chakwas was in their midst, arm in arm with Theis, who looked smug.  And there, pushing his way to the front of the crowd...

“Shepard!”

“Wrex!  How on Earth...I mean on Palaven...what are you doing here?”

The hulking krogan hefted her into his arms, hugging her tight.  He set her back down carefully – far more carefully than she thought he knew how – and grinned his shark's grin at her.  “The kid pulled strings with the Primarch.  I like the leg,” he added, giving her a once over. “Very...what do you call it?  Cyberpunk.”

Jayne nodded, unsure where to begin to unpack the idea that her krogan friend knew about human sci-fi genres.  She looked at Garrus instead, who was nearly exploding with happiness at seeing how well his surprise had gone over.  “You did all this?”

“I had some help.”  He scanned the crowd, looking for someone.  A tinge of disappointment colored his subvocals as he evidently didn't find who he was looking for.  When he turned back to her, though, he was smiling again.  “C'mon, you are the guest of honor.  We have a comfortable chair for you.”

He led her to one end of the atrium where the party was being held to a chair that made her laugh.  Built of sturdy, dark Palaveni wood and cushioned with a tasseled monstrosity of a pillow, it looked remarkably like the ancient British royal throne.  He helped her get comfortable, and tucked a low stool under her right leg to support it.  From there, something of a receiving line began as the guests came by to offer their well wishes and presents.  Sol's gift turned out to be several bags of whole bean coffee, imported from Earth and brought with Dr. Chakwas.  There was a feast of food, both chiralities of course, and everyone joined each other at long tables reminiscent of a school lunchroom, various races mingling together in one big happy bunch.

Halfway through the dinner – with Garrus and his family on one side of her and Wrex on the other – a voice called out from the door.  “Sorry I'm late,” Liara announced, beaming.  “I had to make a stop to pick some people up.”

Tali and a geth that looked remarkably like Legion stood on either side of the asari and Jayne nearly lost her plate from her lap she was so suprised. “Shepard-Commander, we offer sincere felicitations upon your successful revolution around the primary.”

“Thank you.” The head flaps waved and she laughed, wondering just how long Tali had coached the geth in saying that.  She knew geth still used mobile platforms, but she hadn't known Legion's had been saved.  She couldn't wait to catch up and see what the Consensus was up to now.

Tali hugged her, her suit now bearing a clear face mask so she could see her friend's dancing silver eyes.  “Took me forever to filter through the runtimes to find enough of him to come back.  Once I had a few they seemed strangely excited by the project.”

“I'm so glad you did.  I've missed him.”

The geth stood by, seemingly at odds with how to react to this, and she caught sight of the platform twisting its fingers the way Tali used to do when she was nervous.  “We represent eight hundred and four of the runtimes that were once uploaded to this platform.  It has been...an interesting experience, reliving these stimuli.”

“That's good to hear.  Can I still call you Legion?”

“Yes, for we are many in this place.”  The head flaps waved again and she smiled, remembering when EDI had named him that.  Evidently, the runtimes did too.

“I'm very happy to see you, Legion.”

“We thank you, Shepard-Commander, on behalf of the Consensus.  We would not exist if not for you and Creator-Tali'Zorah.”

They moved off, mingling and reuniting with the members of the Normandy crew and a sense of peaceful fulfillment filled Jayne.  She took Garrus' hand in hers and grinned at him.  “Thank you, babe.  This was the best gift ever, in the whole of the galaxy.”

“You're welcome, darling.”  He pressed his mouthplates to the back of her hand, a turian equivalent of kissing it, and the gathered guests roared their approval.  Jayne and Garrus laughed along with them.  Finally, there was a sense of rightness coming back to the galaxy, and even if a few faces were missing, she knew where those were and had plans to see them again soon.  

“Happy Birthday, Jayne,” Garrus said softly.

“It is happy.  It is the happiest I've ever been.”

[ramblinganthropologist]

The perfect present

Summary: A certain commander’s birthday is coming up, and his XO has the perfect present. Will 29 be better than 27? It probably will, he was dead for the last two birthdays. Let’s just hope Alistair gets out of this without dying from being shoved into cake. Again.

---

-April 2 2155-

Food. Food was an excellent idea right then.

Garrus had been told by multiple humans that he looked like a mutated raptor when he was hungry. Whatever the fuck that was, he definitely felt like it as he headed out of the battery that night, making a beeline for something he could put into his fucked up face.

So maybe he relied on instinct rather than time to remember to eat – big deal.

What few Cerberus agents that had gathered around the mess scattered when they saw him with that look in his eye. He swore he heard one of them hum something, just a few notes that earned them some snickers. Right then he didn't really care – food first, dealing with assholes later.

“Nice going, Garrusaurus Rex.”

A slight click followed a bored statement. Garrus turned to see a familiar head of pink hair sitting at the table, eating from her feed back of oddly shaped nuggets. Bo had her omni-tool out and was scrolling through her feed. The clicking had come from her, but as to what he had no idea.

“I was hungry.”

“No shit.” She held her wrist up and another click followed. “Don't rip up the park while I'm away.”

And then she stood up, taking her nuggets with her and leaving a small pile of crumbs in her wake. Garrus was left to stand there, staring at the back of her head while he waited for his food to heat up. Now, he wasn't an expert in human technology, but he knew a flash when he saw one.

“Pretty sure it's not the first anymore.” The ding of the microwave turned his thoughts to something much better. It was food time now. The denizens of the Normandy were safe from Garrusaurus Rex for a few more hours.

As long as they didn't take any more photos of him – that was just weird.

---

-April 5 2155-

Yep. He was covered in goo and it was not a great feeling.

Garrus grimaced as he peeled another part of armor away from his body. He, Alistair, and Bo had just gotten back from a mission that had put them face to face with what he could have only described as a sentient goo monster. It had been more than happy to acquaint them with its inner workings, particularly when it fucking swallowed him whole. It hadn't attempted to digest him, mostly because they had shot it too fast, but to say it was unpleasant was putting it mildly.

What was even worse was the jokes that followed the entire shuttle ride back. Why a race developed from predators even had a fetish about being eaten, he didn't know. Being mandibles deep in mush didn't exactly foster a heavy discussion. Instead, he got to just grimace and figure out how someone would even eat a human. Maybe they had the right idea after all.

“This stuff better come off.” It smelled awful, but it wasn't trying to digest him. That was a point in his favor. Garrus sighed as he continued peeling off armor. In the low light, it was easier to forget just what he was covered in. He had seen it once – that was good enough for him.

“Vakarian, you down here or what?”

Bo's voice echoed out in the darkness. Garrus didn't stop undressing of course – hell if he cared. The fact she stumbled a little only confirmed the fact he didn't need to give a fuck. Once her contacts were out, he was safe.

“Over here, Shepard.”

She got there just as he was down to his pants. “Al's going to want that write up of your sexual awakening when you're done jacking off.”

He snorted – spirits, it made bubbles. “Right, whatever. I'll turn it over when I'm clean.”

Nobody wanted him tracking goo over the Normandy anyway. Still, as he kept undressing, Garrus could have sworn he heard a click as Bo left. Maybe it was her boots on the ground, or maybe goo was blocking something. Either way, he had more important things to worry about.

Like the goo sticking clothes to some... sensitive... areas.

Oww.

---

-April 11 2155-

“Come on, guys. Do we have to do this now?”

Alistair groaned as he was nudged away from some world-saving work by an enthusiastic crew member. They had been trying to get him down to the mess for the last half hour, and they had finally taken matters into their own hands. Literally. He was lucky they hadn't actually picked him up in their enthusiasm.

That had happened once when he was in basic. Now he knew how to kick better.

“It's your birthday, commander, lighten up.”

Yeah, and he'd had 28 before them. 29 didn't look any better than the others thanks to a number of things on his shit list that grew with each day. Still, Alistair grimaced and allowed himself to be led down to where the free crew was waiting for him. Tali gave him a little wave from her spot by Bo's side, while Grunt smirked. The three of them looked awful chummy to say the least – and a shiver ran down his spine.

Not good. Maybe he should've worn his armor for this. He so wasn't ready to give krogan wrestling a try.

“Are you sure we can't shove his face in it?”

“We can do that after.”

Oh, those were never words he wanted to hear. Alistair's defenses proved to be in vain – Joker had been talking to somebody about the cake instead. Someone with a not very steady hand had written out his name and happy birthday in black and red. They had also lost control of the piping bag at one point – or maybe that was supposed to be a hamster at the bottom – because there was a huge glob of frosting after the words. In a weird way, it was cute.

It was also cake, so hell if he was going to turn that down.

Luckily, they had dragged Garrus out of the battery, so that's who he stood by while he waited for whatever embarrassing plan they had planned for him to go down. It was a safety thing as much as a preference.  He could watch his back.

“What, do you expect the cake to attack you?”

“Happened when I turned 25. She's been trying to top it for years.” Sometimes he swore he still smelled frosting.

The she in question must've sensed him mention her, because his XO beckoned him over. Alistair took careful steps, eyes watching where her hands were. Two birthdays ago he had wound up with a face full of cake because he hadn't been careful. Now he was ready.

“Happy birthday, Al.”

It wasn't a knuckle sandwich at least. Instead, Bo pulled out a package roughly the length of his body, clumsily wrapped up in paper that had fat cartoon hamsters with party hats and balloons on it. It even had a big red bow, which she took off lovingly and slammed to the side of his head before he could protest.

Great.

“You shouldn't have.”

No, she really shouldn't have judging from the looks on the crew's faces. They reminded him of sharks in the water – waiting for something. What, he had no idea. So, Alistair very carefully peeled the paper away and peeked inside.

It was... white?

“Open it, already!” Grunt's deep voice echoed some of the crew's requests. He shot them all a look, but complied. As soon as he did, his face began to heat up. Someone – and he had a pretty good idea who- was a terrible person.

“It's me.” Garrus' voice was as flat as Mindoir's planes as he got a good look at it. Indeed – it was a pillow that had Garrus stretched out on it. “Is this some weird human gesture?”

“Only if you watch anime.” Alistair's tone matched the Turian's in a pan-species meeting of solidarity. “Very funny, guys.”

Shaking his head, he turned it over in the hopes of finding a blank space to keep from dying. However, in his haste he had forgotten one of the main features of the mythical body pillow. A very evil soul had been at work here.

His face turned blood red at the reverse side. It was Garrus again, this time naked from the waist up. He was giving the camera a blank look, the one that looked honestly kind of sexy not that he would admit it, and he had his hand ready to take his pants off.

“Happy birthday, Al.” Bo loomed over at him, beaming. “You should see what I put in your room when you get done here.”

And then she was steering him towards the cake. “Now, I think it's time you get acquainted with some sugar.”

Mother fucker, he couldn't have a normal birthday, could he?

---

“I smell like a bakery.”

Tired, sore, but still the birthday boy, Alistair grimaced as he entered his quarters and headed straight for his shower. He had gotten up close and personal with a cake to say the least – pretty sure there was frosting in his goddamn ears – and all he wanted was a shower and some quiet time. Somehow, Tali had been the one to betray him that year and launch him into the cake. Betrayal tasted like chocolate buttercream.

He was going to remember that when her birthday came around.

Garrus was under his arm – safe for work side up. The case came off, he needed a body pillow, it was win-win. Unless, knowing the evil trio, they had printed it directly on the pillow too. There was no telling with his hell crew.

Alistair stopped dead in his tracks though. There was somebody – no, something – in the center of his room, staring at him. And oh, his face turned blood red as he picked out the details, hampered some by the low light.

“Well that's shitty shifts for her for the next month.”

Now Alistair had a cardboard cutout of what the crew had jokingly termed 'sexy Garrus' all to himself. Someone in loving detail had gotten every scar on his face down, and had somehow managed to get the look on his face just right. Instead of looking annoyed, he was downright... well, sexy Garrus was right, alright.

“You didn't stop her?” Saren just kept chewing on his sunflower seed instead of answering. Of course he was a space hamster, so there really wasn't much that he could have done. It was just the three of them now.

No doubt the Illusive Man was getting his money's worth if he checked the cameras. Good for him. At least somebody was enjoying it.

“Whatever, I'll deal with you later, Mr. Sexy.” He shook his head and headed to the shower to get the remains of the cake off him. If he was lucky, he wouldn't be scrubbing icing out of his pores when his next birthday came around.

And oh, he was so not ready for that. If this is what they did when he turned 29, he'd hate to hear what they had planned for his big 3-0.

[adjectivebear]

Familiar

Pairing: F!Ryder x Liam Rating: A bit NSFW Summary: Kadara may not be the best place for a second date, but in the Heleus cluster sometimes you have to work with what you've got. (NSFW bits under the cut.) Kralla’s Song wasn’t the sort of place Liam would have preferred to take a girl for a date. But they were on Kadara anyway, and Grace had been giving him those hopeful looks ever since their sort-of date on Aya, and hey, at some point you just had to say fuck it, right? So yes, Kadara as a whole was a shite place for a date--for just about anything, really--but it was the best he could do, and he couldn’t bear those looks anymore, Grace’s eyes all big and scared like she was half convinced he’d changed his mind about her and just hadn’t bothered to tell her yet.

He hadn’t done. Changed his mind, that was. It was just that whenever he tried to think of something he wanted to do, somewhere he wanted to take her, all he could think of were places in London, and then he got sad and had to stop thinking.

And see, there he was, thinking about it again.

Liam threw back the rest of his drink, swallowing the unwelcome images of home along with it.

He wasn’t sure what Umi had been serving--Grace loved asking bartenders to surprise her, especially after being advised not to--but it tasted like candy and hit like a freight train, and Liam was tremendously drunk by the time his favourite Pathfinder pulled him onto the dance floor.

There’d been a time--possibly this morning?--when Liam had scarcely believed the grave accounts of Grace’s alcohol-fueled sex mistakes. Grace Ryder was shy and awkward, couldn’t flirt to save her life, and turned into a blushing, stammering mess when he had his shirt off (which he’d started doing far more often because Grace was so damn cute when she was a blushing, stammering mess, but nobody save Jaal knew that, which was precisely how Liam intended to keep it). The idea of the girl he knew embarking on even a solitary walk of shame bordered on ludicrous.

Drunk Grace, it turned out, was a different beast entirely. 

She backed up on him, swiveling her hips in time to the music, and he curled his hands around her waist. It was a familiar thing, a soft body winding against him as too-loud music reverberated in his chest, and Liam closed his eyes. Slightly different music, slightly better beer, and this might have been a London bar. This might have been a London girl--some English rose who glazed over when he talked about old movies and didn’t spend half her time poking through crumbling ruins and trying to befriend any wildlife that didn’t immediately try to eat her.

The location could definitely have been improved upon. 

The company, though? Not in a million years.

He pulled her closer as the music slowed, one hand splayed over her belly. Her bum ground against him with each roll of her hips, and he could feel himself getting hard, but if Grace noticed she didn’t seem to care. She dropped her head back against his shoulder. She was so soft, and her hair smelled so nice, and it was early days but he was pretty sure he loved her, his heart thudding wildly when she leaned up to kiss his jaw.

She turned to face him as a new song began, pressing herself against the length of his body and, yeah, there was no way in hell she could have missed the boner, so she definitely didn’t care. She wound her arms around his neck, looking up at him with half-closed eyes, and he couldn’t help bending to meet her pretty pink lips.

This was familiar, too, and it was nice, and Liam was absolutely going to start kissing Grace at every possible opportunity. She melted into his arms and he held her tight, licking into her sweet mouth, and they weren’t even dancing anymore so much as swaying gently to the rhythm as they kissed, but he didn’t care.

Next thing Liam knew they were outside--he thought he recalled Umi telling them to get a room, but he might have been imagining shit because fucking hell, what had she put in those drinks?--and he knew their heading was the Tempest, but it felt a lot farther away right then than it had that morning. They rounded the corner onto the docks and he stumbled--leaned?--against the wall, the impact knocking some of the air out of his lungs. Grace fell against him--or maybe he’d pulled her along?--and their lips met again, tongues tangling passionately.

“You’re crazy stupid hot, Kosta,” she panted when they came up for air. She slid her hands up his shirt, moaning appreciatively as her fingers mapped his abs.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Ryder,” he said. He gripped her arse--when had he gotten his hands on her arse? Oh, fuck it, who could remember--and pulled her hips flush with his. He’d only gotten harder since the dance floor, and she ground deliciously against his cock.

“So fucking sexy,” she said, her breath tickling him as she nipped and kissed along his neck. She sucked on a particularly good spot and he groaned, letting his reeling head fall back against the wall. 

“God, Gracie.”

She bit down gently and he shuddered. 

“You make me so wet,” she said, her fingers teasing along the waist of his trousers. “Just looking at you. Hearing your voice.” She ground her hips pointedly, and Liam had never once come in his pants, but he was getting dangerously close to doing so at that moment. 

Grace dropped to her knees in front of him. She found his zipper and tugged slowly, pressing wet kisses to each newly-exposed patch of skin.

“What are you doing?”

“Kinda figured the offer here was pretty obvious,” Grace purred, grinning up at him. 

Her eyes were unfocused.

Oh goddammit...

“Grace. Grace,” he repeated more firmly, gently prising her fingers from his zipper. “No.”

Her brows furrowed. “No?”

“No. Not tonight.”

“But... I thought you liked me,” she said, her voice so small and sad that he thought his heart might shatter on the spot.

“Yeah, Gracie, I do. And I don’t want you to feel bad in the morning.”

“I won’t.”

“Alright, well I’m afraid you will, and that’s a problem for me,” he said. She looked unconvinced, hurt, and he lay his hand against her cheek. “Let’s just table this for when we haven’t had so much to drink, yeah?” 

He helped her up--no mean feat, as he could barely stay upright himself--and gathered her into his arms. He kissed her forehead. Then he righted his clothes and started maneuvering them toward the ship.

Liam Kosta: first human in the galaxy to turn down a blowjob, he thought wryly. God, wouldn’t Mum be proud.

Grace’s head didn’t hurt, which was nothing short of a miracle.

Pretty much everything else did, though. Every muscle in her body ached as though she’d gone twenty rounds with a krogan. “Fuck.”

The warm shape curled up behind her stirred slightly. “Morning, sunshine,” it said in a devastatingly sexy English accent.

Grace grimaced. “Oh God,” she said, her voice coming out hoarse and croaky. “Did I puke last night?”

Liam chuckled. “Hell yeah. I’ve never seen that much come out of one person.”

“Fuuuuck,” Grace repeated, scrubbing a hand over her face. Didn’t it just figure, though? They’d finally gotten to go on a date--a real, actual date--so naturally she’d gone and and ruined it by getting trashed and throwing up in front of him, and--and… “Oh God,” she said, her stomach dropping as memories of the night before returned piecemeal to her brain. “Did I try to blow you?”

“You did that, too.”

“No, Drunk Grace strikes again,” she groaned, burying her face in the pillow.

“Hey, no harm done,” Liam said. “See? Clothes still on. Crisis averted.”

“In what possible way? I was a fucking disaster.”

“Nah, you--okay, yeah, you were a bit--”

“Oh, God, kill me--”

“--but it’s alright. Nobody in the Initiative deserves to get any shit for being a bit of a disaster sometimes.” He pressed his lips to the back of her head. “Least of all you.”

“How are you this--”

Liam swore as she rolled to face him, the bed shaking beneath her. “Grace--shit--I’m not twenty-two. Let’s… keep the movement to a minimum, yeah? I think my head might actually explode if I don’t hold really, really still for, like… the rest of the day.”

Grace smoothed back his hair, which he’d clearly forgotten to wrap before crashing for the night, and which was now a complete mess in the cutest possible way because it was apparently physically impossible for Liam Kosta to be anything short of face-meltingly gorgeous no matter the circumstances, and for fuck’s sake, Ryder, that whole train of thought was just rude when the man was in pain. She activated her omni-tool. “Hey, Lexi--”

“Ryder, it’s well past time that we addressed your alcohol use,” came the curt reply.

“That’s… fair,” Grace allowed. “But for what it’s worth, this time the saline drip isn’t for me.”

Lexi sighed heavily. “I’ll be right there.”

“And... maybe hold off on the lecture until we’re feeling better?”

“No promises.”

Grace shut off the omni-tool. She sat up, jostling the bed as little as she could manage. She chewed her lower lip. “So…”

Liam threaded his fingers through hers. “Maybe just vids on the couch next time?”

“That might be for the best,” Grace said, fighting back a huge, goofy smile at the suggestion that there would be a next time.

He squeezed her hand. “It’s a date.”

[kestrelsansjesses]

"Hear my heart beat? Just focus on that." And/or "I'm okay, you're okay, we're okay." For Garrus and Shep please :3

[Here you go anon. I hope you like it.

"Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that." A dull drumbeat echoed through the silent forest, her arms and legs going slower and slower. It interrupted the sound of a child’s laughter, his chubby hand tightly gripping a model of the Normandy. His face changed every few moments, flicking back and forth from the other orphans she had run with in her childhood back on Earth back to the children she hadn’t been able to save, the tiny bodies that were covered with their own colorful, starship spangled sheets.

“Shepard, follow the sound.” That same voice again, graveled and two-toned and familiar. It broke through the mists of the forest, bringing light beaming down through her eyelids as the dream slowly faded, revealing itself for what it was. It wasn’t real life, no matter how life-like it felt. The same dream multiple times a week, happening enough that it made waking up a relief.

Stirring, Shepard woke to a hand on her shoulder, opening her eyes to see Garrus looking down at her, concern written into his features and reflected in the slight clicking of his mandibles. “Shit,” she said, struggling to sit up, “I think I’m still stuck in that nightmare, looking at that face.” A smile she didn’t fully feel yet lit across her face briefly, but her heart was still racing faster than she would have liked. “Was I talking in my sleep?”

“Talking, drooling. The usual. The ever graceful Commander Shepard left some drool marks on my chest.” There was indeed a faint damp spot on Garrus’ natural carapace; she had vague recollections of falling asleep with her head on his chest last night, and she must have stayed there until he tried to wake her up.

“You tell anyone about that, Vakarian, and I’ll send your ass right back to Palaven, Reapers or no Reapers.” Finally she felt like she was back in the present, the familiar confines of her room on the Normandy coming into focus alongside Garrus’ familiar form next to her. It felt good to fall asleep next to him. It was the only way she could fall asleep, lately, a thought that brought forth a groan as she ran a palm over her face and rubbed at her temples, trying to shake the start of a headache off. Everything hurt today, all the spots Cerberus had knit back together aching in distinct points like stars.

Garrus caught her hand, using his other to brush the stray strands of red hair from her eyes. “Hey, Shepard, you doing okay? Seriously. You make me worry sometimes. If you ever want a break, a night out at the Citadel, people would understand.” He would understand. At the end of the day, that was all Shepard cared about.

“No time, Garrus.” No time for anything but pressing forward, desperately trying to marshall a force out of disparate elements in the galaxy. Trying to make krogans, salarians, turians, humans, and asari get along, not to mention batarians and… Just thinking about it was making her headache worse, and for all that Shepard could hear the clock ticking down, she sunk back onto the pillows. The little kid was still flickering around the edges of her mind, taunting her. You weren’t fast enough, he seemed to say. You never will be. Watch this all go up in flames. “Maybe five minutes. Vakarian, your commander is ordering you to lie down for a few more minutes.”

Garrus lay down next to her, leaving one arm open to form the perfect spot to rest her head. “I can’t deny a superior,” he told her, and her eyelids grew heavy again. This time, she knew the child wouldn’t come back. Not for a while.

[inyri]

(Un)certainties- a Mass Effect story

Hello, @cullenplzhalp! I’m your Secret Santa this year, and I’ve written you a story about your Kira. Here’s what you told me about her- “For research purposes only my Shepard is named Kira and she’s a soldier. She’s a paragon but extremely passive aggressive. Has a lot of courage and doesn’t ever get scared in action but behind the scenes has a ton of anxiety and questions all of her decisions, asking Kaiden for advise and encouragement. Aside from Kaiden, she loves long conversations, great food, and her best friend is Garrus. She prefers to relax on her days off rather than going out. Kira doesn’t dislike much but HATES breakfast foods (eggs especially) and huge crowds.” I hope I did her justice.

(Also, if you prefer, I’ve posted this over on AO3 for ease of finding again.)

(Un)certainties (or, four times Kaidan was right, and one time he wasn’t)

for @cullenplzhalp

she is falling, falling, falling from such a great height that it almost feels like flying; she opens her arms (only the one, really, the other still stubbornly refusing to function) and-

*

She can’t sleep, even with him there, so she watches the stars go by through the skylight above the bed.

After an hour or two- it's so easy to lose track of time in the passage of constellations- he stirs into wakefulness beside her. Out of the corner of her vision she sees his head turn in her direction; when he notices her still-open eyes, Kaidan frowns. “Shep-” he catches himself before he says it, which she appreciates; she's told him a hundred times that she has a name and that it isn't Shepard- “Kira. You should be sleeping.”

“I can't. I keep thinking about Legion. I wish I could have-”

He interrupts her then, slipping a hand beneath her far shoulder to turn her to her side, facing him. “You stopped a war that lasted hundreds of years. You gave the quarians back their homeworld and the Geth are helping them rebuild it. Isn't that enough?”

She sighs. “I know, but-”

“But you want to be able to save everyone. You always did. I remember.” Kaidan kisses her forehead. “This is war, Kir, and we’re all soldiers. We knew what the risks were when we enlisted.”

“You and me, sure. But the rest of the crew- Mordin-”

He snorts. “Mordin was ex-STG. Bad example. And even there- curing the genophage? From what you told me he clearly felt it was worth the sacrifice to save an entire species.”

”Someone dies so somewhere, someone else can live. Ruthless calculus, Garrus calls it.” It’s been rattling around the back of her brain: the Bahak system, Earth, Palaven. “Shame I was never any good at math.”

Something passes overhead at that moment, incandescent brightness that illuminates the whole bed, enough to make her lift her hand to shade her eyes- a comet, perhaps, or a piece of wreckage coursing through the void of space. There is more of that around, these days.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not true. I’m pretty sure you know that’s not true, either.”

“Damn your biotic logic.” Propping herself up on one elbow, she prods at his chest with the outstretched index finger of her free hand. “But you’re right. I’m just second-guessing myself, I think- after the Blitz I promised myself I wouldn’t lose anyone else, not if I could help it. I screwed it up with Ashley, but I brought my whole team back from the edge of a black hole, even when everyone said it was impossible. I hoped-”

He catches her hand in his- she lets him, of course; even without biotics she’s just as quick as he is and usually she’s faster- and shifts in closer, pinning it between them. ”You’re doing the best you can,” Kaidan says, “better than anyone else would ever have been able to do. No one’s going to fault you for that.”  

“I let that cyborg bounce your head off a shuttle. Not my finest moment.”

“I got better.”  

It sounds like the punchline to a joke, so she can’t help but laugh. “That’s a matter of opinion, I-”

When he kisses her again their joined hands move, slipping down between their bodies, and she forgets what she meant to say.

*

-and she lands and oh, God, it hurts so much. but as she lays there, looking up at the sky as the colors fade from her vision, pieces of Reapers arc downward like a million shooting stars and it makes her smile, just for a moment, before-

*

Of course they want her to speak.

First Human Spectre, savior of the Krogan, Arbiter of Peace, trotted out by the Alliance brass as a morale booster- God knows they need it, after the disaster that was Thessia- when she looks at it objectively, it makes perfect sense. She’s used to being a figurehead. But she is standing in the wings of a stage on the Presidium, waiting to take the podium in front of a crowd easily ten thousand strong; her heart’s pounding hard enough to fly out of her chest, because she would rather be doing anything else but this.

Backflip out of a troop ship at high altitude? Drive her Mako up the side of an active volcano? Play chicken with the main cannon on a Reaper? Bring it on: all in a day’s work. She’s felt the air leach from her lungs into the void of space and her heart slow and slow until it seized in her frozen chest, looked death in the eye as it reached out to claim her- and kicked it square in its stupid dead face. She’s got too much to do to worry about mundanities like dying. Public speaking, though?

Nope. No way, no how.

“Why did I agree to this?” As Councilor Tevos finishes her introduction, she’s standing at attention but she’s got her hands clutched tight behind her back. “This was a terrible idea.”

Garrus, at her right shoulder, nudges his knee into the back of her thigh. “Relax, Shepard. Just read off the prompter and picture all of them in their underwear. Isn't that the saying?”

“Your confidence is reassuring, if unwarranted, and I’m not sure that’s a good plan.” She chokes back a giggle, looking past the curtain at the front row of assembled dignitaries. “You’ve seen the new ambassador from Noveria?”

“Hm. Fair.”

Kaidan, to her left, leans close and murmurs into her ear. “I’ve heard it helps to focus on one person.”

“I know who I’d pick.” She whispers back over the burst of applause from the gathered crowd. “You sitting in the front row, Spectre? Need to know where to look.”

“Nope. Behind you on the stage.”

“Not sure that’s useful. I can’t exactly look back over my shoulder the whole time.”

As the audience quiets and Tevos looks toward them, beckoning them onstage with a wave of one perfectly manicured hand, she can hear the smirk in his voice. “Well, then,” Kaidan says, “you’ll just have to be creative. You’ve got this.”

It’s just like going into battle as she steps out of the wings, Garrus and Kaidan flanking her in the same tight formation they’ve fallen into so many times over the years. Her eyes adjust to the bright lights more quickly than they should, thanks to her enhancements; she takes a deep breath, looking up into the corner for the projection of her speech on the prompter screen.

She’s got this.

In the pauses between sentences she blinks, picturing him, every muscle and freckle and scar of a body she’s learned every inch of, on the backs of her eyelids. If she blinks a little more than usual during the course of her speech- well. The lights are very bright.

*

-someone’s yelling.

“sir?” again, louder, frantic. “sir! over here- she’s still breathing- i think it’s-”

*

The morning after the party Shepard wakes at 0900, alarmingly late by military standards, to the smell of coffee and something frying wafting in from the kitchen.

Kaidan’s nowhere to be found, his side of the bed empty but the pillow rumpled and his boots still lined up next to the end table. He was here, she’s certain- she mostly remembers going to bed, with Kaidan beside her, at the end of the party, after everyone else had crashed out on couches and under tables. She’d closed the bedroom door, no thanks to the tripwire and the biometric sensors Zaeed and Garrus had managed to rig up at some point when she wasn’t looking, but- oh, God.

She’s pretty sure there was someone in the hot tub- possibly several someones, if she remembers the noise correctly. Still dressed, she rolls out of bed; they can’t have seen much, at least. She hopes not. She’ll never hear the end of it, otherwise.

When she peers into the bathroom, Grunt, on his back like an overturned turtle, is snoring contentedly in the empty tub, and Javik’s curled beside it with his head resting on the tile surround. As she stands in the doorway, he groans faintly and shifts, turning away from her. Apparently, even Protheans get hangovers.

So do Commanders, of course- oh, her head aches. She needs coffee.

Kaidan, irritatingly, looks perfectly sober and far too cheerful when she drags herself into the kitchen. “Morning, sunshine. Coffee?” When she nods enthusiastically, he turns from the stove just long enough to hand her a mug before he returns his attention to a pan full of frying…

“Eggs?” She tries not to wrinkle her nose. It’s funny, now that she thinks of it: in all their time together, he’s never made her breakfast. On their rare days off they just skipped it, preferring lazy mornings in bed, and on duty it’s always been ration bars or protein shakes or MREs, which is just fine by her.  Breakfast, as far as she’s concerned, is a wasteland of food options, each less appealing than the next.

Especially eggs. She hates eggs.

“Stomach not up to it? I can make pancakes.” Kaidan glances up at her as she takes a sip from her mug; he caught her expression, clearly. “I think everyone else is still unconscious, so I’ll let you set the menu.”

She shakes her head again. “No, thank you. I’ll pass.”

“You really should eat something. Crepes? I make great crepes.”

That one gets a thumbs-down and another sip from her mug.

His forehead’s scrunched in thought, now, as he tries more options. “Oatmeal?”

“Ew.”

“Bacon.” He eyes her, a desperate look on his face. “You can’t not like bacon. Everyone likes bacon.”

“I do,” she says, “like bacon.”

Kaidan grins. “Bacon and coffee- breakfast of champions. Coming right up.”

*

everything hurts. there is less everything than usual- when she tries to move she can't, like her muscles aren't there at all, and she cannot see out of her right eye and her jaw refuses to open, but still there is light and a hand holding hers-

*

She knew, of course, what the risks were. They all did.

But it doesn’t make it any easier to watch each lifeline flicker red in her HUD, her crew- her friends- taken down one by one by a merciless tide of monsters. They’re all still alive, for now, but as each status changes from ACTIVE to DISABLED the knot in her chest pulls a little tighter and she’s never been one for religion but she’s never prayed so hard in her life.

She can see the conduit at the bottom of the hill, a pillar of light cutting through the smoke, and the way down’s as clear as it’s going to get; she signals to Kaidan and Garrus and they all three start forward, out of the safety of their cover spot behind a half-ruined wall, and-

The Reaper’s beam hits them almost immediately.

When she forces her eyes open she’s sprawled on the ground, half-buried under rubble, and two more lines on her HUD are flashing red. She can’t find them on the display at first but then the sensors ping, Kaidan about ten feet to her right and Garrus, beside her- where? She can’t see him.

“Garrus?” Her left arm won't work. Wedging her rifle under a chunk of rock, she levers it off her right leg until she can move and rolls to her stomach, looking around. “Talk to me, Vakarian. What’s your status?”

The pile of rubble shifts. “I'm here-” a cough, a groan- “but I don't think I can make it to the Conduit, Shepard. My leg-”

She does what she can, one- handed, to clear the debris, and when she gets a better look she winces. He's right; his leg’s clearly broken. “We’ll get you out of here. You've got an evac beacon?”

“Yeah. Go find Alenko. He-” Garrus swears, raising his rifle to his shoulder. “Marauders on your six. I'll cover you. Go!”

She half-runs, half-hobbles as he starts to fire, each shot punctuated by a keening shriek and the thud of a falling body, scanning the ground as she goes, looking for-

Kaidan.

At first she thinks he’s just sitting, leaning against a crumpled van. She reaches down to help him to his feet, though, and he doesn’t move, and then she sees the rebar through his shoulder, pinning him to the driver’s side door.

“It’s okay,” he says, though his eyes say something different, “I’m fine.”

“You are such a liar.” There’re too many pockets on this suit of armor; she searches for her cutting torch- she can’t pull him free, she knows, not without knowing what the metal pierced through, but there’s no time to scan him, no time-

He raises his hand to her face as she crouches down beside him. “You’ve got to go, babe, you can’t-”

“Not without you.” She finally finds the torch and lights it, the little blue flame heating the rebar to brilliant orange until it snaps, just behind his shoulder, and he leans forward with a gasp.

“I’ll only slow you down.”

“I don’t care. I-”

When he kisses her it lands sidelong. “You can do this, Kira. I know it.”

His beacon’s shattered; she gives him hers, sets it up beside him carefully. She won’t have a way to signal rescue when she gets to the Citadel. She has a sick feeling, deep in her stomach, that she won’t need to. “I love you, Kaidan.”

“I love you, too.”

She kisses him again, hard, tasting the blood on his lips before he raises a barrier around himself, and then she runs.

*

“miranda.” a familiar voice near her ear, the same weight on her hand. “how is she?”

“better. you were here last week when she woke up? without the tech it’s been slow going, but I think-”

she opens her eyes.

*

It takes her almost two months (plus the four that she spent, sedated, in the hospital, before she finally woke up for good) but when he comes to visit her that day she is ready.

Dressed properly, she sits on the edge of the bed, feet firmly on the floor. He’s nearly here now- she can hear his footsteps coming down the hallway, a steady cadence she’d recognize anywhere. She can do this.

“Hey, babe.” Kaidan smiles, gesturing toward the wheelchair in the corner. “You ready to roll? The sun’s actually shining, so I thought we’d go out to the atrium if you feel up to it.”

“That sounds great.”

He goes to move the chair next to the bed, the same thing he’s done every day since the doctors gave her the all-clear to get up.

“Kaidan?”

“Hm?”

“How long did you say you thought it’d take until I could walk on my own?” She wills her legs to stop shaking.

He isn’t looking at her, which is perfect, his attention focused on the brake release and the blanket draped over the back of the chair. “Well, the therapists thought it might be up to six months. They don’t know you like I do, though, so I bet three. Why?”

“One month and twenty-seven days.”

When he turns back around she’s standing up beside her hospital bed, and she takes a step toward him, holding out her arms, and he leaves the wheelchair where it is and holds her tight.

“Pretty sure,” she says against his mouth, “that means you owe me dinner.”

Happy Holidays Harvesting!