1. After Virmire
She was dead. That was it. Gone. Dead dead dead dead. And it was all her goddamn fault. This war had taken her pride, her certainty, and now it had taken her best friend. Ash would never get married, or have children. She would never crack a joke, or manage a smirk. She'd never stare at LT's ass, or urge Shepard to "go for it". She'd never recite poetry, or mark her father's grave with flowers. Instead, her best friend would be spending the remaining time of this universe's hollow existence as dust among piles of rubble. She was twenty-one, and she was just dead.
She tried to imagine all the ways she could have died, just to make herself feel worse. Gunned down by Geth, or did she shoot herself, knowing her inevitable fate? Did she even have to wait for that, or did she set off the bomb before any Geth could get to her? Did she sit there in silence for half an hour, damning Shepard to hell? Knowing exactly why it was her being left to die while everyone else fled, instead of the Lieutenant?
Shepard thinks that's probably closer to how it went.
She recycles her last conversation with Ash in her head as she sits nude with her knees tucked to her chin under the scalding hot shower water and cries. She hears Ash's voice and the point at which it was evident that she knew Shepard wasn't choosing her. That Shepard was purposefully abandoning her for Kaidan. She remembers having to hear Ash say, 'That's okay, Skipper. I understand,", as if Shepard had just told her she couldn't attend a party, or that she was going to be late to lunch. She remembers the fear in her voice. She'll remember it the rest of her life.
Shepard was twenty-nine; Kaidan thirty-two. They left a girl who was practically a child to her own fate. She doesn't think Ashley died with honor, or that her sacrifice meant something for 'the future of the galaxy', like everyone had tried to tell her; like they drilled into her the first day of training. She thinks she died scared, helpless and alone after her entire crew abandoned her. She thinks she died knowing that Shepard had doomed her to that fate.
She also thinks that Kaidan is the only one that understands that. But she still can't bring herself to look at him.
Shepard turns the water off, and throws on a v-neck and yoga pants. She doesn't dry herself off. She doesn't put her wet hair up in a ponytail. She doesn't even put on her uniform jumpsuit. To hell with the Alliance. To hell with Kaidan, to hell with Anderson, to hell with Saren. God damn them all to hell.
She trudges on down to the cargo bay, slamming her fist on the elevator button. There is a permanent scowl on her face until she releases all her damned pent-up aggression. There are two ways Jane Shepard knows how to do that: fighting and sex. And since her sex life had rapidly deteriorated since becoming a Spectre, inheriting the Normandy, and having practically all the responsibility in the galaxy dropped on her shoulders, she doesn't think the latter is really an option.
When she's down on the cargo bay, she wraps up her hands, and scrubs them furiously with chalk. She hopes she bleeds. The boxing gloves wiggle on, and she turns to face the punching bag. Ash's punching bag. Doesn't look like she'll be needing it any more.
Of course she doesn't notice that she's being watched from across the cargo bay, especially now when she's at her most vulnerable: tears running down her lightly freckled face, hair wet and askew, and old mascara all a blob now. She punches the hell out of that bag, though. She imagines it's Saren once, but mostly she imagines it's Kaidan. She wants to kill him for making her love him.
It's not so much a surprise to her though, when strong arms wrap around her waist, and a head is buried into her shoulder, stopping her from moving. She figured he'd find her; know she was down here looking at Ash's old things and releasing her anger on an old, beat up punching bag. She hates how he knows her so well.
"Jane," He mutters against her skin. "Stop this."
She shrugs him off violently, struggling against his strong grip. But he gets the picture and lets go. "That's Commander, Staff Lieutenant. Don't touch me." She doesn't look at him. But she doesn't move, either.
He stands behind her, aghast at how quickly the woman he'd grown to love beyond what he'd ever be comfortable admitting, could change personalities so quickly. That above all things, that was her way of dealing with crisis: shutting everyone out. He never thought she'd be the type.
"Alright, Commander. Do you want me to salute you every time I see you, too? Kiss ass? Worship the goddamn hallowed ground you walk on, is that what you want?!"
A glove flies off instantly, and her fist is attached to his cheek before he can move out of the way. She doesn't want boxing gloves covering her hands for this. She wants to feel her skin bruise his. She wants to feel how badly she hurts him; wants to make him bleed. And even then, it won't come close to leveling the playing field for what Ash had to go through to make sure his precious ass got off that planet alive.
The punch hurts like hell, but he stands his ground.
"I want you to show some goddamn respect for your superiors, Staff Lieutenant." She spews at him.
"Yeah, I thought that might be it," he starts, venom ever-present in his tone. "You blame me for Ash's death."
"And why shouldn't I?"
"Because you're so busy placing blame to deal with your pain, that you're blind to everyone else's!"
This stops her in her tracks. She isn't quite sure what to say afterwards. Luckily, he finds the words for her.
"Do you honestly believe that you're the only one who's absolutely devastated, Shepard? That you are the only person on this entire goddamn ship that's in mourning right now? Everyone is in pain. Liara's locked herself in her quarters. Garrus hasn't said a word since we got back, and Joker—oh, get this—aside from the fact that he couldn't look at me in the eyes when we came back, Joker's cut all comm channels and sealed the cockpit. You are such a selfish bitch, that you decide it's okay to shut everyone out when anything bad happens to you, because that's how the great Commander Shepard deals with her fucking problems!"
There's another blow to his face, this time harder, and causes his nose to bleed. He doesn't hold it, he just lets the blood go. She watches. It gives her the strangest sense of satisfaction. Her raised eyebrow is her dare for him to continue. He does.
"You sent a girl to die!"
"Oh thank you, Lieutenant! I didn't notice!"
"IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME!"
"…I couldn't do that, LT. You know that."
She found herself surprisingly upset that he seemed to have nothing but hate for her in this moment. In all her rage towards him…maybe that's how she felt, too. Maybe she hated herself more than anyone.
"Do I? I never forced you to make that decision! I told you to save her, damn it! I screamed at you over the comm line as you ordered Ash to sacrifice herself for the rest of us! You made that choice, Shepard! It was your choice and your goddamn fault!"
His anger doesn't go away, and before she can stop herself, Shepard follows suit. "And you think I don't fucking know that? Why do you think I'm down here? To get a good work-out in? You fucking asshole!"
"Oh, I know why you're down here. To hide from your fucking guilt. All of this bullshit of yours is just a cover-up for the real reason you left Ash to die."
"Which is?!"
"Because you're in love with me, goddamn it! You left that girl to die because you let yourself become emotionally attached! And now that girl is dead because of this!" He gestures between them.
She raises her fist to strike him again. "You fucking bastard— "
He grabs her wrist in mid-air and pulls her flush against him. She struggles to wrench her hand free, but she knows that will never happen. His words are low and husky, and spoken through gritted teeth.
"I can't…I'm not okay right now, Shepard." His voice cracks on her name, and instantly his act is broken. The nature of their whole fight is revealed with a single slip. A tear falls down his cheek. Both of them wanted nothing more than to have died in Ash's place, and they still want that now, pathetically standing here in all their grief and agony.
Her response is venomous. "Let go of me, Staff Lieutenant."
Instead, his grip tightens. "That's Kaidan to you, ma'am."
And so they just stand there, staring at each other, seeing who will make the inevitable first move.
Because, in truth, she's looking into his eyes and thinking she'd like nothing more than to fuck him senseless. Not make love, not have sex. No—fuck is the appropriate word. She wants to love him so much that it hurts him. Hurts her, even. She wants to run her nails down his back so hard that he bleeds. Wants to take a knife and carve her initials into his chest.
When his mouth is forced against hers, and her back slammed violently against the cold metal wall, it's no surprise. He grabs her other wrist and pins her hands above her with one of his as her legs wrap around his hips, drawing him closer to her. She needs as much flesh on flesh contact with this man as she possibly can.
His tongue is shoved down her throat as the two battle for dominance by bucking their hips against the other as violently as possible. Everything about this is violent. It's exactly how they want it.
His hands flirt with the hem of her shirt for a while, before his thumbs hook on to the top of her pants, occasionally dipping down to trace the line of her panties. His mouth moves to her jawline, and his tongue licks a path delicately down her neck. When he reaches the juncture of her neck and shoulder, he bites down hard, making her squirm and moan. The sounds he elicits from her put a smirk on his face. He sucks on the mark he made, and his name comes from her lips in the form of another moan. He proceeds to nip gently at her collarbone, and more moans follow.
"Mmm…you like that?" He grins against her flesh.
Like that? She'd kill for that. She'd….oh, God.
Her response comes out as a strangled groan. He continues his assault on her collarbone.
"Mm, Shepard, I have to say, I feel like…like this is a bit uncouth. I'd hate to…to take advantage of you."
His hands grope every curve on her body—her breasts, her hips, and…in between. His hand moves to her clothed core and strokes her there, a wicked smile on his lips.
"Yeah?" she breathes into his lips as he reattaches his to her own in a heated kiss.
"Yeah. But that feeling is nothing compared to how badly I want to fuck you right now." He punctuates his statement by grinding his aroused member into her core, leaving her breathless.
"Ah…well, uhm…" her confidence falters.
He smirks and unwinds her legs from around him, detaching his lips from hers and grabbing her arm, pulling his very willing C.O. towards the elevator. She's slamming on to the elevator buttons now for a very different reason altogether, and he's joining her. In fact, they're smiling and laughing and all the things they shouldn't be at a time like this. They act like two hormonal teenagers, not two grown adults who lost their best friend not but a few hours ago.
She can barely breathe the moment she walks in her quarters before he's got her slammed against the wall again and is nipping at her neck. Clothes are ripped off in shreds—her bra and panties thrown to the side without a second glance. The sight of her naked, being more beautiful than Kaidan had ever imagined in his frequent erotic daydreams (the only salvation from his awful migraines), has him at risk of taking her right then and there.
She leans in so her lips ghost his earlobe, her voice a whisper. "I think you should act on your feeling."
His moan is guttural, and she smirks at his reaction before he ravages her neck once more. One of his hands travels down the side of her breast, her waist, and then her upper thigh before making it to its ultimate destination.
"God, Jane, you're so wet." He tells her, breath leaving tingles down her neck. She bucks her hips against his hand.
When his finger is inside of her, it's wonderful enough, and she whimpers in response. But it's when his biotics flare and a jolt of electricity is sent through her core and spreads to the rest of her body that she absolutely screams. It wasn't the first time he had used his biotics in bed with a woman, but it was the first time he was so pleased with the reaction it garnered.
He kisses her and she smirks into his lips.
"Neat trick." She gets out. "Can you do it with your tongue?"
He swears he could cry right then and there—tears of pure ecstasy.
She manages to get a good look in his eyes, and sees they are completely clouded over with lust. She can barely make out the brown irises that she found so gorgeous. She cries out.
After time passes and it's done, they're lying in her cot, and he's stroking her bare back as she dozes off. Her red hair is strewn about the white pillow behind her. He thinks, fleetingly, that it's like a fire rising from her scalp.