"Get with it, Lola!" Vega roared. Shepard groaned and felt the mud squelch against her cheek before she lifted herself off the ground. Wiping it away with the back of one hand she spat out a mouthful of clay and grimaced; the rest of her squad were at the far end of the field already, desperate to fend off another goal. She felt the stinging of a bad scrape where her shirt had ridden up when she slid across the grass and dirt. Her left hand was also scratched, but nothing she hadn't seen before.

Well dammit

The whistle blew. Shepard clenched her teeth and threw her arms up in surrender as James looked back at her.

"Well, we lost." He said, holding out a hand as he approached, lifting her off her feet. The simulation team faded into nothingness; at least they didn't have to deal with gloating winners at practice.

"I see that."

"Well, hell, we tried," he gave her a slap on the shoulder and took off in a sprint toward the rest of the team. "Alright guys," he winked at Shepard as she slid into the huddle to join him. "And gals." He blew out a breath, "I got nothing. We played like shit, go take a shower." He swore in Spanish under his breath and snapped his neck from side to side, producing sharp cracks.

"Come on, Lola, if you hurry I'll soap your back."

She crossed her arms over her chest, "Not even if you were the last man on this Earth-err, Thessia."

"Si la belleza fuera un instante, tu serias la eternidad," he serenaded over his shoulder as they reached the edge of the pitch.

Vega's arms – arms the size of her thighs – rippled as he grabbed his bag, and, not for the first time, Jane wondered if he carried his whole life around in that duffle. Schoolbooks she figured. The captain of the spectacularly bad Serrice N7ers, skyballers extraordinaire, did have dark bags under his eyes lately. The University of Serrice wasn't for the jocks of the world, but damned if he wasn't trying.

"I'm not going to be the first one in my family to go to and then flunk out of college, Lola," he told her as they slumped against the bar, sharing beers during Orientation Week. "Nope. Fuck that." His eyes wandered to the lithe freshmen by the door. She followed his gaze: Blonde, 3-inch heels, and a skirt cut high enough to let Shepard guess that the blonde probably wasn't dyed.

Shepard gave a sideways smirk, and knew he would be doing just that before the night was over. "And," he pointed at Shepard with one thick finger, "I'm not gonna sail through on some biotiball scholarship either. I'm going to study." He brought his fist down on the bar with each word, the young batarian at the end of the bar shifting uncomfortably on his stool, all four eyes watching the rowdy humans.

"Hey buddy," Vega said, raising his glass to the alien, "welcome to Serrice."

Ya, you'll be studying alright, Jane thought. Anatomy. She snorted into her beer. Dweeb.

The air was getting crisp, and she was giving silent thanks to God, or Athame, or whoever.

Finally, she thought, pulling her warm-up jacket over her jersey. She was sick of slathering sunscreen on every exposed inch of her fair and be-speckled skin; she actually wasn't even sure it was worth it. Did this planet even have UV rays? That would explain the lobster-like complexion she had supported all summer.

She grabbed her own bag and jogged after Vega, pulling a cigarette from the pack stuck in the outer pocket. "Go ahead, James," she called, stopping at the bleachers to light up, her slender fingers flicking the lighter deftly. She could see the tall buildings of the University coming alive with lit windows, the yellow glow somehow richer in the cold. She let out the first drag of smoke, startlingly white in the twilight that was descending, just as James made it back to her.

"You gotta give that up, Shepard, no wonder you can't run for shit."

"I run circles around you, you big lug," she straddled the bench, leaning back and bracing her weight on both hands behind her. She took another puff, closing her eyes. She was getting too old for this. Leave the sports to the kids, she thought.

"Classy," he said, nodding at the smoke.

She opened her eyes, wincing as she stretched the tightness out of the fresh wound on her hand, running the other over her stomach. She tapped the ash off the end of her cigarette and onto the ground.

"We're just having a lousy season, Captain, don't blame me," she said.

Vega stood over Shepard's reclined form, pushing a finger into her sternum, "Listen, chica, try harder. I did for you guys. Do you think I liked all those extra credits I had to make up over the holidays? I did it so I could come back and lead your sorry ass to some kind of victory. We all gotta work together, I mean, can't you all see that?"

"Noted." Shepard replied, willing James to take a step back with her eyes. She didn't need this, not now.

She needed to hit the showers and walk back to her apartment, where she could crawl into bed and binge-watch old Earth TV while she still had the chance, before papers piled up around her ears. She needed to get his goddamned mud off her face.

Vega did take a step back, no longer hovering over Shepard's face. "Ah, what's the point, if none of you listen to me? I told Bailey he's got to cover your ass more on the approach, and Cortez has got to start watching his flank. You all need to start listening to-"

She had in fact stopped listening. Her attention had wandered to the entrance of the athletic complex, where a lone figure had wandered into the glow of one of the spotlights, alternating between scanning the field and studying the Omni-tool on her wrist, her brows knit together.

Shepard sat up instantly, swinging her legs over the bleachers and planting them, resting her elbows on her thighs. All of Vega's talk of plays faded into white noise, fuzzy and unimportant.

All she saw was blue.

Who is that?