A/N: Why hello there, fellow Mass Effect fans! Long time no see! Just to let you know, I was previously known as Simale, and before that I was Lizardhound. This is the last namechange you may expect from me. FYI, I am obsessed with Salarians and have a ridiculous amount of logical and sensible headcanon about them, so expect Salarain-centered publications from me!
Now, before I let you read this wonderful fluffy oneshot, some info:
Heaven's Beach: The bunny died. Sorry. Doing my best to necromance it.
Cabal, Shadow: Bunny alive and well for this just-now-revealed project centering my two awesomely badass SPECTRE OCs, the Salarian assassin known only as Kirrim and the Turian Cabal Adroma Kaorn. Expect a brand-new Salarian religion, bloody and breathtaking battle scenes and perhaps a cameo appearance or two... No currect start date and no set finish date.
This thing here: A stand-alone oneshot featuring my heterochromatic, synesthetic, Garrus-romancing badass Irish Sentinel Eilir Shepard, Joker, and our favourite Salarian. No, it's not Kirrahe. This will probably become a series of oneshots centering around Eilir's curious personal habits and odd quirks, as seen by the crew and squad. That's why it's listed as In-progress and not Completed. I have a Tribble or two but nothing concrete. Do not expect regular updates.
On to the story!
Joker had a whopping case of survivor's guilt, and not without reason. But it was keeping him awake and he refused to talk to Kelly about it, so something had to be done. Unwilling to see a friend suffer like this, Shepard had decided to have a chat with him.
She sat down in the co-pilot's chair late one evening and handed him a steaming mug of tea, which he accepted with a smile. However, a look of confusion passed over his face when he inhaled the scent of the tea, and he stared at it.
"... Purple?" He said, giving her a look. She smiled and nodded encouragingly, so he took a tentative sip.
It was better than he had expected, with bitterness reminiscent of coffee and a taste of something velvety soft and sweet.
"A Salarian/Asari blend," the Commander said, pushing a strand of reddish-brown hair behind an ear. "Mordin recommended I try it, and I thought you'd like it, too,"
The pilot snorted and took another, bigger, sip. It was actually quite good, if a bit weird.
Shepard was always ready to try new things, so when the Professor had mentioned that a certain kind of cricket-like insect the Salarians liked to snack on tasted very much like the human potato chips, she had bought a bag to try them. Upon discovering that they were, in fact, better than chips and contained more proteins and calories, she had bought two months' worth of the bugs, much to the despair of Gardner and the vast majority of people who happened to be in the vicinity when she ate them. They had legs. And they crunched.
She must have thought something very similar, because she leaned back in her chair, loose hair falling back from her face like a curtain to reveal the glowing orange not-quite-healed scars, grinned, and took a sip of her own tea, which gave off a powerful scent of mint.
Then she leaned forwards again, setting her cup down on the chair's armrest and fixing her green-rust heterochromatic eyes on him. Joker's stomach plummeted straight through the decks and settled somewhere in Engineering.
"You still have survivor's guilt?" she asked quietly. Joker looked away and swallowed as his gut fell on through the ship's hull and into the nearest black hole. But this was Eilir Shepard his friend, not Commander Shepard his boss. He knew she kept talks like this off-record. Besides, as much as he hated to admit it, she was right.
"Yeah," he said, and she nodded to herself. "Thought so," she said. Then: "I'm not going to say it wasn't your fault I died, because it probably was." He jerked and stared at her, and Shepard held up a placating hand.
"However," she continued, "Even if you hadn't insisted on saving the first Normandy, she'd still have been destroyed and Pressly and the others would still be dead. Chances are the Alliance would have split us up and not built another Normandy. Cerberus wouldn't have reconstructed my body and brought me back to life. If they hadn't done that I wouldn't be working with them on this; I'd have made use of my resources and contacts as a Spectre as much as I could, which probably wouldn't have been much since the Council are responsible for all Spectre missions and this is an entirely human matter. To sum it up: I wouldn't be looking into these colony abductions if I hadn't died." She stated. Joker blinked and nodded slowly. It did make sense.
"I wouldn't be on this ship, and neither would you. I know Cerberus gave you some implants so you can walk better, which, as far as I know, has been very good for you. Chakwas wouldn't be here, either, and neither would Ken and Gabby down in Engineering, both of whom are Alliance in their hearts even though they wear Cerberus colours. We wouldn't have picked up Mordin, Samara, Kasumi or Zaeed, probably not Tali, Miranda and Jacob wouldn't be here and we'd never have met Thane. Garrus might have followed me, though, -" Joker snorted. Shepard and Garrus were practically inseparable by now, and hadn't been far from it when the whole mess with Saren was finished. "-Grunt wouldn't be breaking things down in the cargo hold, and we wouldn't have busted Jack out of prison." Joker gave her a dubious look at the mentions of the hormonal teenage Krogan and the crazy Biotic convict down in the Engineering deck and she laughed. "I know, I know," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "But Grunt will be useful later, and I fully believe that Jack's a good person, deep down."
Shepard was somewhat notorious for her faith in people, so Joker just shrugged and let her continue.
"So, despite the fact that I died and a lot of people suffered because of that to some degree, the sheer amount of good that came from it far outweighs the bad consequences." She settled back and drank her tea in silence, keeping an eye on the pilot as the young man thought. She was glad he'd finished the tea and set the Normandy SR-2 mug aside, because when he realized what she was saying he jerked violently, enough so to make her worried he had fractured something.
"You wouldn't have changed it if you could," he whispered. Shepard nodded solemnly. "No, I wouldn't," she said quietly, and then offered him a sad smile.
He sat back in his chair, still looking dazed. "Huh."
She let him sit like that for a moment, then drained the rest of her tea and collected his mug with a flick of her wrist. It floated past his face, snapping him out of his reverie.
"If anything, I should probably be thanking you," she said with a grin. Joker blinked, then grinned back. "Then I should probably tell you you're welcome," he joked, and she laughed. Then the pilot yawned. He glanced at the cups Shepard was holding, remembering how her tea had smelled like mint and his was an alien blend, and glared at the Commander.
"You drugged my tea," he stated accusingly. Shepard shook her head. "I didn't," she said. Joker crossed his arms and gave her his best dubious look. "Uh-huh."
"No, honestly, I didn't," she said. "You know my attitude towards drugs of any kind. I wouldn't do that to anyone."
He believed her, then. Shepard didn't even take painkillers unless absolutely necessary and avoided sedatives like the plague. She never forced anyone to take anything they could do without, and had more effective ways of making people sleep than chemicals. Doctor Chakwas, however, was perfectly capable of slipping a multitude of drugs into any food or drink with some flavour. But he didn't think Shepard would let the doctor anywhere near her precious tea with a dose of sedatives, however small or justified it might be.
Sighing, Joker got out of the (very comfortable) pilot's chair and hobbled towards the elevator, taking the empty mugs from Shepard and exchanging the usual pleasantries as he passed her. He was going down to the crew deck anyways and it was the least he could do after her pep talk, he reasoned as the doors closed behind him, just in time to hide a yawn from the Commander. Damn, those talks were exhausting.
Shepard watched the elevator doors close with a smile. While it was true that she hadn't messed with Joker's tea, that particular blend was known for causing drowsiness in humans. He needed the sleep, the poor lad. Guilt-driven insomnia was worse than the usual kind. She ran a hand through her hair, teasing out a tangle before heading to the tech lab for a quick chat with Mordin.
The hyperactive old professor was just as wide awake and working just as fast as he'd been when she popped in around noon. The glass in the Seeker tank had been replaced and the bug itself was nowhere to be seen.
"Shepard. Nice to see you," he said with a smile as she walked in. "'Evening, Mordin," she replied, smiling back. Despite its subject, the talk with Joker had left her feeling happy and content. Even though he was tired, he had carried himself straighter and his steps had been lighter than before. Ever observant, the Salarian caught on to her good mood, if not its reason, immediately.
"I had a talk with Joker," she said in reply to his inquiry. "He's been feeling guilty about my death, so I explained why he shouldn't be,"
The words were light, but there was a look in her eyes, a hollow echo of something, that made the gravity of what she had said before and was saying now all the more obvious. Mordin's hands stilled.
"And...?" He prompted gently after a moment. Shepard leaned back against a low shelf the Professor had long since learned to keep free of fragile instruments, crossing her arms and shifting her gaze to the floor. She went completely still for a moment, not even breathing. It was a curious habit, probably unconscious, for a woman so confident.
"I wouldn't have been here if I'd survived," she said quietly, her happiness fading a little. "Wouldn't have picked you up. Wouldn't have picked anyone up. Wouldn't be doing this. It's good work we're doing, and not just for humanity. If I'd lived..." She shrugged. After a moment's hesitation, she added "I wouldn't change the past if I could," the last sentence was almost a whisper.
He was silent for a few seconds, absorbing this. It was clear that she'd been thinking about it, working out all the consequences in her head, piecing together the puzzle in those silent hours of the night when the cold empty, silent void screamed at her from memories only half there. Mordin had come to the same conclusion several weeks earlier and in a much more pleasant way, but refrained from mentioning anything. That wasn't a subject for him to broach.
"Agreed," he said, and she looked up, green-and-rust eyes suddenly intense and fixed on the old Salarian. "And am glad," he continued with a kind smile as her eyes flickered down again. "Wouldn't have it otherwise."
Shepard laughed, a short, quiet "Ha," before smiling back at him, her eyes surprisingly warm. "I'm glad you think so, Mordin," she said sincerely.
The void didn't scream that night.
A/N: There! Liked it? Do drop a review if you did! As I said, this might become a series of oneshots and mini-arcs in all genres, featuring most, if not all characters from ME2 and maybe an OC here and there.
Bye now, I hope to see youse again soon!