A/N: I'm hoping this story can be accessible to everyone, male or female. If you're a m/m Shenko fan I've written this with the headcanon that Kaidan and m!Shep had some form of relationship in ME1, even if it was just confused, secret, stolen, impulsive moments. I hope you enjoy!

"Kaidan..." you whisper, lilting your voice.

He sits in a cream-leather chair, head drooped on one shoulder, snoozing. The dim lighting casts shadows across his skin and for a moment you think his life is written in every mark, freckle, and line. You straighten up and sigh, unable to resist smiling.

As you watch his chest rise and fall, the tension in your shoulders melts away. He's here. After everything, Kaidan is here—with you—on the Normandy. A tingling warmth fills your stomach and curls throughout your chest, wrapping your heart in contentment.

Kaidan.

You notice the streaks of grey above his ears and the laugh-lines around his eyes, not completely smoothed away even in sleep. Neither of you are young any more, not as young as you used to be. Not as young as when you met—soft hands, chaste kisses, fewer scars, burning and entwined and sleepless with glee. It seems a lifetime ago.

You take a deep breath, place your hands on your hips, and pace to the window thinking: I'm only thirty-one, but inside you're much older. You've lived forever, you've lived twice, and yet you haven't really lived at all.

Stars glitter beyond the window and in every endless direction. Are there as many stars as there are people? A wave of regret threatens to puncture the peace Kaidan gives you, as a list of names scroll through your mind. Too many names and lost faces, you feel each one like a bullet wound. You tried so hard, goddamn did you try, but it wasn't enough. Too many wrong decisions, or slow reactions, or stupid calls, or...

Blaming yourself won't change anything, but you have to blame something. Reapers, blame the Reapers. You screw your eyes shut and recall the red hologram of Sovereign, way back on Virmire. You've seen enough of the bastards now, but for some reason his glowing form is the only one you can recall with vivid detail.

The tension returns to your shoulders, knotting your neck, and you fold your arms. Another deep...deep...breath...

Opening your eyes, you look back at Kaidan. He's here. It doesn't matter what may come; so long as you don't lose him, too, you can keep going. The Normandy crew is your family and you would never abandon them, but Kaidan is your heart. You've heard that it's bad to centre your happiness on one person, and that it's dangerous to need someone the way you need him, but when you've lost so much and the universe is turning to you for answers you don't have... Is it so bad right now?

Looking at his handsome face, you decide, no, you need something. We all need to hope for something. And all you want is to live. You want to live with Kaidan.

He stirs and air whistles through his nose. Your smile returns. Time stands still. It's quiet in here, the distant engines purr inside every wall and the air-system hums like a sea breeze. The sea... Thane's voice ripples in your thoughts, dispersing the last wave of hope you're clinging to. He'll never see the Reapers crushed. He'll never know if his son lives to see a brighter future. He died trusting you and despite your promises, every word had been hollow.

Tears clog your throat and twist your lungs as the names begin to scroll again. Unable to stand it, you rush to Kaidan's chair, drop to one knee and stroke his arm.

"Hey..." you gush. "Rise and shine." You massage his skin beneath your fingers, memorising the texture and reaffirming your connected—deeper than touch, deeper than whispers and secrets and vows.

Kaidan blinks and stretches his stiff neck, as if awakening from being cursed to sleep in stone. His bleary eyes register your face, and he smirks. No words needed. But then he looks, really looks at you, and the sunshine in his smirk fades.

"Hey, you alright?" he asks, musky with sleep. His hot hand slides up to your shoulder, up your neck, and his fingers brush you like a pianist stroking well-worn keys.

"Yeah," you croak. Good job, very convincing. You close your eyes and feel tears rush over your cheeks, escaping the first chance they get. Ugh. You brush them away, wipe them on your uniform, and rub until your cheeks are dry, all before Kaidan can even think to do it for you.

"Shepard..." he breathes, and leans forward. Ah, no one says your name quite like he does. You smile a real smile, stretching the age lines you know are there. His concern is evident as his hand cups your cheek, and it's then you realise what you need.

"Will you..." No, maybe you shouldn't ask. Things have been rough, and he's only just starting to trust you again. White hot pain lances through you at this thought; this repetitive thought that makes you miserable in the early hours of the morning. You just want him beside you. Another soul to comfort you when the lights are out.

With his free hand, Kaidan finds yours. He kisses it, leaving behind a gentle, invisible imprint. "Will I what?"

You can't say it. You shouldn't say it. The words tremble against your lips, but it's too soon, don't ruin this. You shake your head, dismissing what you started. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah," he says, "but I think I slept for too long. My neck..." Kaidan stretches his neck back and forth, then stares into your eyes with unflinching openness. He takes up both your hands now and strokes them absently. "So, what is it? You can tell me anything, I'll always listen," he says.

Say anything—anything but the thing you want. "I miss you." Good start, roll with it, be honest. "You're here, but I don't feel like we talk enough."

He thinks about this, takes it in. "Yeah, I guess you're right. We're both busy, we're both tired... I don't mean to shut you out. I'm sorry. I guess I'm just so preoccupied with my work that... I guess I need to learn to take a break, but somehow you keep on going and I feel like I should as well, and... That's not to say that—what I mean is, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

It is his fault, he won't talk. No, it's your fault, you don't ask the right questions. No, you both suck. Ugh, this isn't what you want to discuss. You want to skip over the whole uncertain dance of 'getting to know one another' and press against his body, chat benign crap without feeling awkward. You already know each other.

Kaidan pinches the bridge of his nose and kneads his eyes. "When I'm not working, I start to feel useless," he says. "I don't like stopping for too long, because everything gets on top of me. All the people we left behind on Earth, my squad out there fighting while I'm sat here, my parents..."

You nod. "I feel that," you say. "I understand." Taking a deep breath, you decide to at least talk around your nagging request. "I can't sleep at night—I have nightmares." Admitting this seems childish, but already you feel some relief. "It's always the same with slight variations. I can't run fast enough, everything's grey, ashen, and shadows of people are everywhere like they've gone for a stroll in the park. And then I burn alive, and I'm holding a child I saw on Earth...right before we left."

Kaidan sighs and moves to the edge of his chair. He strokes his thumb across your cheek and, after all this time, you think you've never felt anything so wonderful. Your eyes close and a smile returns. His touch sends bliss tingling down your neck and between your shoulders, but when you look at him again, Kaidan is not smiling.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, studying your face. You know he's sorry you're not sleeping but, in the back of your mind, you wonder if there's more he's not saying. "I wish there was something I could do."

His gaze flickers to your lips and hope bursts wild, ragged, and raw beneath your ribs—it burns like, well, a nightmare. You focus on maintaining shallow breathes. Kiss me. Let me kiss you. It's been so long that you can't remember how good his lips feel, you just know it's true. The memory of his mouth against yours is a whisper, warm and soft and fading.

"Kaidan..." From the heavy frown on his face you can see he's as unhappy as you are. He squeezes your shoulder, then clasps his hands as if to stop himself from touching you any longer. Perhaps I'm being unfair to him, you think. You're not acting like yourself.

"Thank you," you say, and rise to your feet. The tension returns to your limbs and sickness swirls inside. Kaidan straightens and tries to look cheerful. "I didn't mean to lay my problems on you, but thanks for listening. I appreciate it."

"Any time, Shepard." He gets to his feet. "You know where I am." Unable to hold your gaze, he brushes past and leaves you standing in the Observation Deck.

You hold your head high, hold your breath, and hold onto whatever dignity you have left. You're Commander Shepard, you'll be fine.

You're not fine. Everything's going to crap and you still don't have answers—you don't even know what 'the Crucible' is, yet. Time is slipping through your fingers and the pressure of it all crushes you each morning. It's getting harder to roll out of bed, what's the point? but of course there's a point. We have to try. Our lives are the point. Kaidan is the point.

Make a list of all the things that have to be done today. Tasks you can delegate, missions you can achieve, missions you probably can't...

Wincing, you lean over your desk to scribble it all down before the day kicks off. Your bruises don't fade any more, there's barely time to rub omni-gel on them before the next assignment, but it could be worse. You could be another name on the memorial wall.

List complete, you straighten up, stretch, practice smiling and search for that spark of energy that gets you through the day. It'll be all right. A light blinks on your terminal: 83 new messages.

"EDI, can you separate my messages into sub-folders?"

"Of course, Shepard," she responds, her bodiless voice filling the cabin. On the monitor, information alters and shifts as if by itself, and in moments, it's done. "Messages from the crew are highlighted orange," EDI says. Man, her voice is soothing. It's easy to forget this now that she has a humanoid body, wandering about the Normandy. Maybe you should ask her to read you to sleep one of these days, it might help.

"Thanks."

You click the orange folder. No matter what it entails, you love getting messages from the crew. Their needs come first, period.

"Will that be all?" EDI asks.

You nod, uncertain if she still has 'eyes' in your room. "That's it for now."

"Logging you out, Shepard."

Nine new messages? Wow, you're popular today.

Wait.

New Message: Dinner

From: Kaidan Alenko

Dinner? What dinner? Is he proposing to have dinner together? Like, a date? Dinner?

Do you save his email for last, or open it right away? Now or later, you'll be thinking about its contents. Best not to read everyone else's messages when your attention is divided. You open his first.

Hey Shepard,

Sorry about last night. I don't know about you, but I could sure use a little breather.

Good call.