Chapter One: Big Ben
London, 2186
Three days. He had been stuck in that damned clock tower for three goddamned days, and the backup that Alliance command had promised to send still hadn't arrived. Nothing but husks, marauders and the occasional brave – and eventually dead – looter had been sighted through the cross-hairs of his rifle in that entire time. Dusk was settling over London, marked only by the fading of the red haze that bathed the city when the sun was up. He was low on ammunition, completely out of medical supplies, and the rations would be gone before the night was over. To add insult to injury, only two of his squad members were still alive, and all but seven of the two-dozen civilians they found had died. The sound of boots on the stairs broke his concentration, and the weary soldier turned his head away from the scope to acknowledge his comrade.
"I'm here to relieve you for a bit, Sir," said the younger man. PFC Reynolds. Caleb. The kid had been with the Marines for less than a year before the damned Reapers had hit Earth.
"I'm good. Go back and help with the civilians."
"No offense, Major, but you've been up here since midnight. The Lieutenant says you need a few winks, and we can't risk you nodding off at your post."
"The LT doesn't have the authority..."
"Sara wants to make sure the rest of us make it out of here alive," Caleb interrupted. "And if that means we're asking as your friends instead of following orders as your subordinates, then we'll risk ignoring protocol to make sure it happens."
He couldn't argue with that logic. The boy was a good shot, at least, and Major Coats stepped back from his position behind the stationary second hand of London's iconic Big Ben. He stayed at the top of the staircase until the private had settled into position, then made his way back down to the group of survivors they had picked up on their scouting mission. One old man, three women and three children, the youngest of which was a week old and suckling hungrily at his mother's breast.
Born into war, Coats thought, giving the small family a nod before finding an empty space along the wall to rest against. With any luck, he'll live long enough to know peace, and be the luckiest of us all to not have it the other way around. As he finally settled into a corner, resting his head against the wall, he noticed the oldest of the three children watching him, a timid smile on her lips. For the first time he actually studied the girl, covered in dust and nervously hanging onto her mother. She had red hair, he noticed, and Coats wondered as he nodded off how another red-head he had once known was faring somewhere out there in the galaxy, trying to find a way to save them all.
oxOxo
Arcturus Station, 2176
Staff Lieutenant Tristan Coats managed to crack open an eye as he finally heard his roommate return home from guard duty. The clock on his side-table flashed 04:16, which meant she had been at attention and on her feet for the better part of twenty hours, and his day would be starting in less than two. Their schedules had often been in conflict for the past five weeks, with several of the navy's best soldiers and operatives being pulled off assignment to help protect the Alliance Parliament after two leaders back on Earth were assassinated.
He smiled to himself in the dark as he heard her shuffling around in the kitchen, doing her best to be quiet. Normally, Jane wouldn't have woken him before the alarm, but Tristan hadn't slept well knowing she should have been home well before midnight. Her after-work routine never changed, no matter how late – or early – it happened to be. Food, shower, sleep. If he didn't drag his ass out of bed right that moment, he likely wouldn't see her again until that evening. And even that wasn't promised.
Tristan didn't bother putting on the light as he pulled up a pair of Alliance sweat pants that were always within reach. He knew Jane was used to him running around in nothing but his skivvies, but their new roommate kept hours just as strange as they did and it was probably awkward enough for the kid that they shared a co-ed apartment. Out of the string of soldiers that had come and gone from the flat in the two years he'd lived there, Shepard had been his favorite. She'd been with him for six months, usually gone on missions for most of it, but rent was always paid on time and they got along famously. But there was one bad habit of hers that Coats had been trying to break...
"Eggs, milk and bread," he suggested, slamming the freezer door shut as he caught her opening it to get the lasagne she'd been eyeballing all week. Jane turned and glared at him, but beneath the exhaustion and frustration, her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Throw one at me if it makes you feel better. I haven't showered yet. But you'll have to clean the kitchen," he dared in response.
"You're no fun," she teased, accepting defeat and opening the refrigerator door.
"I'm loads of fun," replied Tristan, leaning against the open door and peering down at her as she buried herself in the cooler to find the eggs. "There's just nothing fun to do on the station."
"Not true. Fucking and drinking are two of the biggest pastimes around here." As point of emphasis, she grabbed a beer from the shelf and waved it behind her before putting it back and emerging with the ingredients he had requested. "Not that either of us are queuing up a line of partners out at Tiny's, but there are plenty who do."
"An officer doesn't 'queue up partners,' Jane," Tristan joked, easing around her to grab a pan and placing it on the stove.
"You're full of shit. I can think of half a dozen women who would jump at the chance to warm your bed if you did so much as snap your fingers, but you seem to be perfectly content alone."
"The last time I tumbled into bed with a woman from the bar, I couldn't get rid of her for three months. So I decided after that I won't bring someone home unless I wouldn't mind keeping her around for a while." She seemed to be contemplating his reply, silent as she studied him with slitted eyelids. "And what about you?" he ventured, handing her a bowl and watching as she cracked the eggs into it. Tristan knew this conversation was foreign territory for them, even if it was Jane who opened that particular can of worms. He would have to keep it casual, even though his belly had mysteriously knotted itself in anticipation of her answer.
"Tris, you forget that I was raised in the military. I can smell a soldier's intentions from a mile away."
"Only the ones who stink."
Jane laughed and poked him in the chest before turning her attention back to whisking their eggs. And it was a good thing she had, for Tristan Coats had very nearly given away his hidden attraction for her. He had absolutely no intentions of acting on it. He was an officer and she was an N-7 trainee, and they were roommates. Maybe, just maybe, after one or the other of them moved out he might consider...
Reaching for the milk, he added a little to her mixture in the bowl. Normal. Casual. And failing miserably at keeping all thoughts of how much he would enjoy making breakfast with Jane every morning out of his head.
oxOxo
London, 2186
"Major! Friendlies inbound!"
Major Coats jolted awake, the sounds of gunfire shooting holes through the memories that had crept up while he slept. Reynolds stood before him, with the civilians packed and ready to run at a moment's notice. As he shook the last remnants of sleep from his head, Tristan could hear the whine of a shuttle near one of the entrances. Grabbing what little gear there was, he rushed them all out to where the extraction team was waiting, and made sure that everyone made it before boarding himself.
"Do we have anything new?" he asked the young pilot since the gunnery chief was busy watching for enemies.
"Not much from Alliance command, Sir, but we've been getting bits of news from galactic programming that manages to come through. A 'Battle-space' reporter managed to clinch a spot on the Normandy yesterday. As of this evening's broadcast, Commander Shepard is heading to Tuchanka."
"So we can get broadcasts from halfway across the galaxy but our superiors can't even check in," Coats grumbled, glancing at his weary crew and their charges. "That's about fifty kinds of fucked up."
"I agree, Sir. But right now, you're the highest ranking officer we've found."
"Do we have an FOB, Lieutenant?"
"Working on it, Sir."
"Good. Get me copies of those broadcasts and arrange to have any other soldier at your rank or higher meet with me an hour after we arrive."
Tristan nodded his dismissal and went to sit next to the little red-haired girl. She smiled when she saw him, and leaned against his arm since her mother's lap was full. She was quiet, contemplative. Much more calm than any child had the right to be in a world ravaged by ancient space machines.
"Major Coats?" she asked softly.
"Yes?"
"Are we going to win?"
Tristan closed his eyes for the briefest of moments while he contemplated all he had been through on the streets of London the past two weeks. The destruction. The death. The horror of the corrupted creatures the Reapers were throwing at them. But his thoughts cleared as he remembered the Lieutenant's words.
"We will," he confided to the girl. "Right now, out there in space, is a woman who is going to bring the best soldiers from all over the galaxy back here to Earth, and we're all going to kick the Reaper's buttocks."
**Disclaimer** The "Mass Effect" universe and characters are property of Bioware.
A/N: I started this fic months ago on the basis that it seemed as if Shepard and Coats already knew each other during their interactions towards the end of the game. So I took it, tweaked it a bit and ran with it. It's been slow going since I have other stories taking up most of my time, but I'll drop a chapter when the muse begins to pester me about this one.
This will be seen from Major Coats' point of view. His relationship and how it develops with Shepard will be shown through dreams and flashbacks as he struggles with the Reaper invasion in London.