Disclaimer - I'm not affiliated with BioWare, don't have any claim to the Mass Effect universe or its characters, and don't receive any compensation for writing this. Yadda, yadda, yadda.
A/N: This follows the Mosaic Project. I suggest reading the Prologue first, but it's designed to be a series of stand-alone vignettes so it isn't really necessary for continuity's sake. Shep is a Colonist, War Hero, Vanguard, and Paragon … not that any of this necessarily comes to play in this installment.
"You're walking into an ambush, kid – but you have the advantage because you know it's an ambush. Play out the scenarios in your head. Anticipate what can happen and how you would react. If you've done the work right, you'll know out to get out of there alive."
Though arthritis had seized battle-weary joints and fingers, it had not slowed him, nor had he allowed himself to be slowed. His charge's backpack was secured with military efficiency, and he stopped to give one last tug on each of the straps before letting go. "You're all geared up, soldier. You've got some time to think through your plan as you walk."
She responded with a sharp laugh, her eyes twinkling. "It's the first day of school, Grandpa, not some war."
The old man planted a gentle kiss on her forehead before rising with a grunt. As he smoothed a hand over her head in one last mark of affection, he added, "Life is a series of skirmishes, Ash – only they don't always involve guns. It's easy to get trapped in the trenches, but remember that a skirmish is just a skirmish. All that really counts is the war."
Ashley Williams perched cross-legged in her chair, long legs wrapped awkwardly about themselves. An elbow had been propped upon the soft flesh to the side of a bent knee, and her chin dug into mass of sinew and nerve on her palm. Her free arm drooped in languid dangle, an odd contrast to the long, contorted limbs and pretzel-like proportions she had twisted into.
He lifted the bowl to his mouth, tipping slightly, allowing the hot broth to slide past waiting lips. She was now blocked from view, and he found it easier to speak with the bowl tipped, with the line of sight broken: "Practicing for the circus, Ash?"
"Mmm," she replied quietly, absently pulling her bottom lip lightly through her teeth. "I'm comfortable."
Shepard, however, was not. He lowered the bowl again, reluctantly meeting her dark, intent stare. "You have something you want to say," he accused bluntly as he set his bowl down on the adjacent table. "You always do that thing with your mouth when you have something you want to say."
Her lips twitched quickly, tugging into a gentle smirk. "If you know me so well," Ashley parried, "why don't you tell me what I want to say?"
Shepard leaned forward, elbows on his knees, while the woman across from him straightened gracefully in her seat. Her chin lifted proudly as she shifted, her deep brown eyes locked on his, that small and teasing smirk still curling the edges of her mouth.
"I know you better than I know the Normandy," Shepard whispered, his voice deep and playful. "All the pathways ," – he shifted his weight onto one elbow – "all the systems," – his fingers began to slowly walk across her knee – "exactly what buttons," – he shifted closer, the tops of his knees slowly brushing against hers – "and exactly where to press them."
"Mmm," she replied quietly, the smirk deepening. "Might want to check those calibrations, Skipper."
He laughed, a full and throaty laugh, tossing his head forward with the motion. Ashley Williams remained unmatched in her ability to keep him off-guard, never fully knowing where he stood with her, despite the time they had been able to spend with each other in relative peace. It felt good to laugh like that again. The uncertainty, however, was not as welcome.
Ashley paused, quietly twining her fingers through his as they played along the inside of her knee, slowly stilling his movement. "I wanted to say…" a sharp laugh abruptly tore from her, her eyes falling to study their interlocked hands. "I wanted to say that we haven't been seeing much of each other lately, and I miss you."
Shepard's brows rose sharply as an irrepressible smile spread across his lips. "That doesn't sound like a very 'Ashley Williams' thing to say at all."
"It isn't," she confessed with a chuckle, eyes still downcast, "but it seemed like the kind of thing that a 'Skipper' might like to hear."
And it was a monumental thing.
"It is," he confessed softly, raising her hand to his lips.
"And if you hear any sounds of sickness coming from the men's room, that's just my lunch," Garrus interjected drily as he moved past the pair holding a tray of food, his mandibles buzzing in amusement.
Shepard shrunk from his friend's metallic voice, keeping a steady lock on Ashley's movements as one would monitor the twitch and flick of a skittish kitten.
She shot Garrus a playful glare, easing into a sidelong grin.
And the knots of tension pricking through Shepard's neck and shoulders slowly began to unravel.
It had taken weeks of patience and quiet affection before she had been comfortable enough to publicly acknowledge any relationship, and months more before she'd act anything other than the consummate professional around him. She had reservations. She had rules and boundaries. And he had the singular knowledge that whatever demands she made, he'd meet, and the absolute confidence that whatever she would throw his way, he'd take it - though he wouldn't always enjoy doing so.
They took small steps forward, ones he could not begrudge given the circumstances. He was Lazarus, back from the dead. The Reapers were coming. The end of organic life in the known galaxy was imminent. And while it instilled in him a sense of urgency, it had a polar effect on her.
"Don't you want to be married one day, Ash? To have kids running around? Make a family of our own?"
She rolled over, as if she could push the very idea away by turning her back to him.
"So we can watch the Reapers destroy that too? Don't complicate things, Shepard; everything's complicated enough as it is."
There would come a time where they would have to be honest with each other. As each day passed, each moment of happy complacency, he knew that it was inching closer. Could they overcome death? Would she – could she – agree to give herself fully to something that had nearly broken her once before?
"Commander!"
The bark startled him back to the present and caused Ashley to drop his hand, sinking further back into her chair. Shepard scowled at the retreat, but chose to seek out the source of the interruption rather than engage in yet another verse of the same tired discussion and pointless fight.
Miranda stood just outside her office, arms folded about her chest. "We have a transmission coming through from Liara. She's advised she needs to speak to both of us at once."
"Of course," Shepard acknowledged, offering his Executive Officer a slight nod. "I'll follow you in a minute."
He rose to his feet, and Ashley rose as well, her face flushed. She shrugged her shoulders lightly, her eyes searching. "Duty calls, yet again. I'll see you when you're done, Skipper."
He quickly took her by the upper arm, giving it a tender and gentle squeeze. "I'll make more time for you, Ash, I promise. I didn't realize -"
"That I want to see you more," Ashley interrupted quickly, her nose twitching. "Even though I'm independent and value my space - and, well, of course and I do, and I am!" She began again, "I've just started to maybe, kind of value my time with you a teeny bit more."
He grinned and stepped closer, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. "You're trying to spoil me, Ash. Either that or build up my confidence to just to have more to later tear down."
It was one of those jokes that belied his inner insecurities. He'd been making a lot of those lately. He wondered absently if she knew it too.
"I know your pathways," she deadpanned, a wicked twinkle in her eyes, "all the systems, and all the cheesy, greeting card ways you have of saying them."
And all the humor you use to push me away. The small lines that had begun appearing around the corners of his eyes crinkled deeper at the thought. I should just ask her to marry me. She couldn't find a way laugh at that. But he pushed that away too.
Whatever time she needed, he was glad to give. Such was the nature of love.
Shepard shook his head lightly with a forced chuckle and began to turn away to follow Miranda to her office. "Hey - wait." He turned back towards Ashley, palms outstretched. "Let's make more time, Ash. Want to meet back here at 1900? Join me for some marriage?"
He winced, his eyes clamping shut tightly. "Join me for some dinner. I meant dinner."
"You didn't say dinner," she countered pointedly. Through partially closed lashes, Shepard watched the color drain from her face.
"Yes … well, I'm aware of that."
Her hands were beginning to quiver. "You said 'marriage,'" she squeaked, eyes widening as the realization had begun to take hold.
"Yes, I said 'marriage,'" he acknowledged as firmly as he could muster, his voice thick and sitting somewhere strangely in his throat.
"I'll go take that call from Liara!" Miranda called hurriedly, rushing for the door to her office at an impressive trot. Spurred by the sudden movement, the other crewmembers lingering about the open mess hall also quickly found someplace else to be.
He stood still and silent and willed himself to be thick as a Krogan's shell, hard and cold as Prothean marble – because he knew that it would come. They locked eyes for long minutes – matched in feeling, matched in fire, matched in intensity.
And come it did:
"You died, Shepard," she hissed, hands planted firmly on her hips, brows knotted with anger. She added, bristling, "You don't understand what was like for me here after you died – and I know what you think! I know you want more from me, but I can't! Not now! Not yet!"
She looked away first, and he pushed the warm tingles pulsing up from his belly down deeper, wishing for all to chill and become cold. He focused on the air, waited for his lungs to frost, waited for the fire in his voice and throat to be doused by the milky mist of his breath.
"I can't control what I think."
She had found some ice of her own. "I can't control what I feel."
Shepard licked his lips, inhaling sharply through his nose. "I fight for the future, Ash. I just want to know if I have one." His breath fell short in stops and starts, in anxious pants.
She pressed her lips together. "It seems we—we need to understand what we're doing here. Evaluate. See if …"
"See if what?"
She shrugged, bitterness seeping into her voice. "If we want the same things out of life. It seems you're not happy, so—"
"I didn't say that," he interrupted sharply. His tone softened. "I wouldn't Freudian slip 'marriage' if I were unhappy, Ash. And I ... I didn't mean to ambush you."
Their eyes met in a stare held for long, silent minutes. His eyes were dark and cloudy, full of emotion, the kind of which both scared and comforted her at once. There was no need for battle. They fought they same war, for the same side, to the same purpose. Though their paths differed, their common ending was true.
She toed at the mess hall floor with her boot, studying the scuffs and scrapes that dotted its sides. Her voice was very small when she finally broke the silence. "I want to tell you something, Skipper, but I can't."
He nodded quietly, rocking back on his heels. "I know. But, it can't stop me from wanting it."
"I know," she replied evenly, lifting her head to meet his eyes. "But … Skipper?" She looked away again. "Will you ask me again tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?" he raised a brow. "Will the answer have changed?"
"No," she confessed. "Not yet, anyway. But you'll get an answer eventually – as long as you keep asking the question."
He snorted involuntarily. "'An answer?' 'Eventually?'"
"I don't know what the future holds, Shepard," she whispered, slowly reaching out to take his hand. "But I can't lose you a second time."
"Then I'll keep asking." Shepard began to move away again when he stopped. "Life is a series of skirmishes, isn't it, Ash?" he sighed, running a hand through his short-cropped hair. "Promise me - one day - I'll win the war."
She opened her mouth as if to reply before quickly closing it again, a mischievous twinkle alighting her eyes. "Oh, Skipper," she drawled with utmost ceremony. "I do."