Well, I've finally surrendured to the Plot Bunny that jumped me months ago. After playing through the Virmire mission on Mass Effect and watching Shepard's reactions at the end, I got to thinking. Kirrahe had way more men who died right? He probably knew them pretty well too. So if Shepard was affected that badly by just one death, then how bad would Kirrahe feel?

Thus ficcage was born. I meant this to be part character-study, part...well, a number of things really. There are implications of ShepardxGarrus in this, and even ShepardxAlenko if you tilt your head and squint through a telescope (though it does say otherwise, it could be read as denial). I did NOT intend this to imply ShepardxKirrahe (though you could view it as such if you so choose). It's more of a realisation that Shepard herself is surrounded by people who take orders, and aside from Anderson she isn't really 'friends' with anyone who gives out the orders.

So yeah. Please enjoy. I really just felt like uploading a single-chapter story, plus I know how many people wanted Kirrahe to join the squad after Virmire. (what with there being an extra space and no salarian on the team already.)

Grains in a sandstorm

"How are you holding up?"

The question itself was a simple one, just a general inquiry. But the timing was what made it so significant. Commander Shepard waited, looking sidelong at the figure beside her on the sandy shores of Virmire. Her gaze was met, large black eyes hinted with green. Captain Kirrahe never wavered beneath her scrutiny.

Ever professional, the salarian refrained from shrugging. "We'll survive. Losses were inevitable, but thanks to your help, we weren't completely annihilated." It was a stalling tactic she knew. Hell, she'd lost someone too. While on the outside they struggled on, acknowledging the casualties but never lingering on them, inside every fallen man or woman tore a piece of them apart. After all, a commander was only really as good as her crew. A captain was only as good as the men that pledged their allegiance and died for him. And so many had. Gods, so many deaths. It really made her wonder if it was worth it, just for an uncertain and perilous moment.

But they'd survived. She'd never call it a victory. How could she? Especially standing next to the one who had been made to give the order. That thought made Shepard shudder. Alenko's death still weighed on her shoulders, but he was just one man. What of Kirrahe? To see so many of his fellow salarians die around him so that some random spectre could save the world from a perceived vision. What was that like?

Normally it would give her pause, make her think about leaving the issue that was undoubtedly still raw for them all. But a storm was approaching, and to defeat the Reapers every man, salarian, turian and asari was needed. Every krogan who'd co-operate and every quarian who showed up. Biotics and Techs. Soldiers and Mercenaries. Every organic life-form needed to join the whole. This was too big for a lone race. Too massive for a lone Spectre.

They couldn't afford to dwell. To bottle things up. That facade she knew too well had to be broken for every soldier. That included herself and her unlikely companion. She turned then, fully facing him. When she spoke her voice was soft but firm.

"I didn't mean 'you' the salarians. I meant you, Captain." He shifted minutely, almost unnoticeably. That is, to all but Shepard. Spectres were trained to notice the unnoticeable after all. A discomfort that was barely there, but was the very core of it all. Kirrahe hesitated for a brief moment, caught between professional and personal. A quiet sigh was the only sign Shepard received that the guard was dropping. Not entirely, but it was a start.

"We... We couldn't find any bodies in the wreckage. Well, what was left of it at least. More like one giant crater." Shepard indulged him with a humourless half-smile, joining him in gazing out across the turbulent sea to the saltwater-filled crater that was once Saren's breeding facility. Kirrahe continued, and she noticed without meaning to that his voice grew shriller as he ventured further into uncomfortable territory.

Such realisations were almost automatic for her. Like how Tali's accent grew thicker the more enthusiastic she was about something, or how the metallic undertone in Garrus' voice became more pronounced as he grew anxious or unsettled. Small things like these helped her define them. It gave information on them away to her even if they tried to hide it.

To hide her predictability Tali acted cheerful about most things now. To hide his predictability Garrus' voice got louder, trying to drown out that telling second voice.

To hide his predictability Captain Kirrahe spoke quieter. A forced calm. Just another facade to guard against the unknown. It was the way he spoke now. "It's ironic isn't it?" Shepard tilted her head inquiringly. Urging him on even as she stayed silent, unwilling to interrupt. "The very weapon we used to secure the families of those men might also be the reason they will never find closure."

"You regret it then?" Shepard asked in surprise. She understood in part what he was saying, but the time-old tradition of looking back and asking if whatever was done had been right... it didn't sit well with Shepard, and it didn't seem fitting for him either, the all-business Salarian who at the time seemed so certain that what they were doing was right.

"No! No, it's not that." He replied hastily, unsure of whether he'd touched a nerve, Perhaps even mistaking the surprise for anger. "I know it had to be done... I just...I wish." The sentence was left unfinished, but the ending words didn't need to be spoken.

It was the universal language of all fighters. The language of plans gone wrong. Of lost people and places. A mournful song amidst the carnage and chaos of the battlefield. A simple wish.

"I wish I'd done something more."

"I wish it'd never happened."

"I wish the drop point had been just a little further away."

"I wish they hadn't died."

"I wish I was dead."

"I wish..."

"But wishes are only that. Wishes. And the wishers are the ones that wish their lives away in the end. It's the ones who act that create the future. People like us." She turned again, back to him, making sure he understood. Making sure she understood. This was as much for herself as it was for him. Maybe more. "people like those men out there who gave themselves for the galaxy to live. Those men are heroes, Captain. They should be remembered as heroes." If she expected him to be uplifted, she was expecting too much.

"I suppose. But as heroic as they are...were... I doubt their families will find solace by hearing they were shot in the face instead of in the back. They don't care if they're heroes. They just care that their babies aren't coming home at the end." His voice faltered and he cut himself off. The weight was visible now. Shoulders normally squared in defiant confidence now slumped hopelessly. Shepard sympathised, but he wasn't done.

"How many more do you think, Commander?"

"Hm?"

"How many more times will I have to return to a family and tell them that I killed their chi-"

"Don't you dare." Shepard seized him by the shoulders, a vice-like grip that was almost painful. Standing there on the white sand she stared at him hard, daring him to continue. When he didn't she spoke instead.

"Don't you dare blame yourself for that!" One hand freed itself to gesture wildly at the crater and her eyes burned into him, blazing with intensity and conviction. "Yes, they died. Yes, someone has to tell their families. But by God if they blame you for all of this they're all fools! every soldier here that day knew what they were going into. They knew they might die, but God-dammit they waded on in there anyway! And why? What for?" She paused, releasing him and feeling a stab of guilt as he winced and absently rubbed at the bruises that were probably forming.

When she began again, she kept her voice level, but the conviction did not vanish. Rather, it increased. "They did it for us. For you. Because they trusted you. All those missions and assignments. The near-misses, and the white-wash successes. Every single one of them trusted you with their lives, and would give those lives up to protect you. Hell, to protect the galaxy! Besides, you would have done the same for them, right?"

Now they both knew Kirrahe was no longer the subject. This was about her now. The captain said nothing for a painfully silent moment as Shepard flailed around in her own despair. 'Why, Kaiden?'

"He was...special to you, wasn't he?" Shepard brought herself from the abyss of sorrow she'd sunk into in order to have the decency to look politely confused.

"Alenko." Kirrahe clarified, somewhat more stable now that the conversation was directed away from himself. Shepard frowned. 'Special' sounded awfully...well, special. But thinking about it, maybe he was. Just not in the way the salarian obviously thought.

"Ah." Was the intelligent response. Kirrahe seemed amused despite the situation. Shepard coughed. "Well...yeah, I guess he was special in a way. I mean, I wasn't in love with him you understand..."

"Oh?" One side of Kirrahe's forehead quirked upwards in a parody of a raised eyebrow. "Your distress was more than just despair for a comrade."

"I don't have comrades, Captain." Shepard acknowledged, taking a few steps forward to sweep a foot through the water distractedly. "I have friends. And for your information that's all Kaiden was. A good friend."

"Perhaps. Still, there's obviously someone important to you at the moment."

"All my friends are important."

"You're dodging the question."

"Why do you care?"

"Because it's distracting you."

"You..." Shepard snorted. The slippery bugger had turned her own tactic around on her. Hiding curiosity beneath a veil of duty. Telling her that she was being distracted by what was troubling her when really he was just prying. She brushed her short black hair behind her ear, a nervous habit she had tried again and again to stop with little to no luck. Now that the tables were turned she found that she had no desire to discuss what was troubling her, and felt even more guilty about prodding him.

"Well, Commander?"

"Hn..."

"Commander, play the game." Shepard chuckled despite herself. He obviously wasn't going to quit.

"Captain? What do you think about inter-racial relationships?" The commander grinned as the captain did a double-take.

"What sort of inter-racial relationships, Commander?"

"Ah! Now you aren't playing the game Captain!"

"Maybe. But truthfully? I don't really have an opinion. I can't say it falls into the category of personal experience. Why?" Shepard peered headlong at him, one eyebrow arched. "Do I need to spell it for you Captain?"

"Oh... Oh! I see!" Kirrahe gaped. "Then you..."

"Yeah..."

"Who?"

The human woman now took her turn to shift nervously. "You see, that's the thing. Everyone would understand if it was an Asari, right?"

"Then it isn't Dr. T'Soni?" Shepard grimaced.

"No. Though she's already made a pass at me, in her own strange way."

"...It's not the Krogan is it?" Shepard choked for a moment on the water she'd been drinking. On that note, where she'd pulled that flask from was something Kirrahe daren't even attempt to fathom.

"No, no it's not Wrex. It's uh..." The rest of the sentence dissolved into an incoherent mumble. Kirrahe blinked.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's Garrus!" Shepard coughed out, louder than she meant to, and subsequently flushed a deep shade of scarlet. Beside her the salarian soldier had the good sense not to laugh at the interesting shade of normally pale skin.

"But...uh, yeah. Now you know..." She finished, deflating slightly. "It won't work will it?"

"Well, you never know. I mean, obviously you wouldn't be able to go through with many human traditions... I imagine those peculiar 'Valentine's Day chocolates' I've heard so much about would provoke a rather nasty allergic reaction." Beside him the human recovered enough to produce a bark of sharp laughter.

"Yeah, I suppose..."

"But it could work. Have you said anything? To Vakarian, I mean."

"What? No! I could never! I mean...In all honesty I don't even know how we started talking about this. It's a little strange, having this conversation with you and not, say, Williams."

"And why haven't you talked to Williams?"

"I don't know. I suppose I'm scared. She's not really fond of turians in general. I don't, uh..."

"Want her to think less of you?"

"Something like that." She mumbled, eyes downcast and hands wringing nervously.

"Well, far be it from me to interfere, but I always thought Vakarian and Williams worked well together. Not that I know much about them." Shepard smiled. That much was true, they did work very well together, but somehow it just seemed like they were doing it through duty and nothing more. Just for her sake and the galaxy's, but not out of kinship or bond. Perhaps that was why she couldn't talk to Ashley about it, especially not after their very first conversation about aliens. Then again, thought Shepard, aliens was a bit of a redundant term now.

They weren't alien anymore. No more than any of the creatures on Earth were alien. They were different, but they weren't unknown anymore.

"Maybe I should say something." She half-whispered, eyes glazed in the visions of possibility. Evidently, mused the salarian, she liked what she imagined, a smile spreading slowly across her features.

Out of her peripheral vision Shepard caught the captain's grin and brought herself abruptly from her daydreaming, an expression of sheepishness plastered across her face. This was a side neither had ever seen of each other. It was certainly different. A sheepish Shepard? A not-serious Kirrahe? It was almost unthinkable. But it was...comfortable, they realised.

"I could get used to this." Admitted Shepard, troubles momentarily forgotten in the face of the solid companionship of another leader. Talking to underlings, though she wouldn't ever call them that, was okay for friendship. They were good friends, and she did love them, some in different ways than others. But they weren't really leaders per se.

She got the same feeling with Anderson. He knew where he was headed, didn't need to follow someone, never needed to ask for orders. That was what it was like talking to Kirrahe. He had his views, and if you didn't like them then to hell with you!

She didn't doubt that they'd clash if they talked for too long. They were both the command type, and it was refreshing to get a new perspective, since she could pretty much predict her companions now.

The roar of engines sounded overhead and both soldiers looked up at the Normandy hovering above them. Shepard sighed. Time to go. A thought hit her suddenly.

"How did you get here?" She asked, brows knitting together. Kirrahe frowned.

"Ship." He said simply, as though it were obvious, which it actually was, but it gave Shepard a conversation starter.

"New squad?"

"No, not yet. I came here alone. It didn't really sit well to take anyone who wasn't here at the time." He replied, sounding almost wistful. Almost. Shepard smiled. Opportunity!

"Well, y'know since Alenko's...death." She choked out the word, knowing she had to get over it. "There's a new slot to be filled. So..."

"No." Kirrahe cut her off softly, already seeing where the line was headed. Shepard's mouth closed with a barely audible click, allowing Kirrahe to explain. He gave a tiny apologetic smile.

"I'm sure travelling with your crew would be incredible, but I have my duties. In fact, I'm told my new squad is due at any time, so it would be a bit idiotic of me to leave when they're just arriving." Shepard smiled sadly. It really was a shame.

"Besides, I'm more used to stealth and secrecy, not the almighty fuss you seem to make at every turn." Shepard laughed along with him, knowing even as she did that it was true at least in part.

"Ready to go, Commander?" Joker's voice rang through her commlink. Shepard nodded, then realising he probably couldn't see it, replied: "Ready Joker." They watched as the Normandy set down on one of the many beaches Virmire held, kicking up a small sandstorm on arrival.

Shepard started wading out across the quickly deepening water, silently cursing Joker for landing the Normandy on a completely different stretch of land. About halfway out she turned back, raising an arm in farewell to the salarian still stood at shore's edge. It was also a last chance of sorts. At least for now. Kirrahe didn't take the offer, choosing instead to return the wave farewell and turn away, making his own path along the sand. Even so, there was something else there. An acknowledgement of camaraderie and a feeling of 'maybe...'

So Shepard let him go, sure that there would be another meeting like this somewhere along the line. It seemed, after all, that fate was entwining her with many people, and she always saw them again in some shape or form. Give it time, she thought, turning back and beginning once again to wade headlong into her next mission. The most important mission of all.

Stop the Reapers.