A/N: Written for a prompt over at masseffectkink meme:

Joker: 'Can't you see the desperation? This isn't happy dancing. This is "forget my problems" dancing. Look at the arms.'

The problem with Shepard's dancing is that she's never just danced, she was always trying to forget.

Sounded like an idea to me.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, just my cup of coffee.

Five Times Shepard Danced to Forget, and One Time She Danced to Remember

.One.

She doesn't really remember how she got into this place, this bar at Citadel. She doesn't think she actually cares. What really matters to her in this moment is the look on Anderson's face when she was named a Spectre and that meant the Normandy was officially taken out of his command - and given to her.

She stole his ship, she heard whispered in the halls of the spaceship. Originally she was supposed to be Anderson's XO, and now his ship is taken away from the poor Captain, the said Captain is basically grounded and she gets to fly around on her merry way, while he is doomed to a desk job. No wonder her now-subordinates were out for her blood; if the things were different, she would be out for blood of the usurper, too.

Anderson told her to catch Saren, and make him pay. What he didn't say, at least not aloud, was to make him pay for killing Nihlus, make him pay for his own lost Spectre training, make him pay for loosing his ship after the very first journey.

And she will do that. But for now, she will forget about everything and throw herself into the rhythm, consequences be damned.

.Two.

There was something definitely twisted to dance when she should be feeling bloody bad for shooting mother of her friend. Matron Benezia, one of the most recognized asari matrons and she shot her without second thought.

The second thought actually came once the asari broke through the veil of indoctrination and spoke to her daughter, love and pain clear in her voice before the last remnants of life left her body.

It never got any easier to know that someone's grief was your doing. The music mimicked her feelings perfectly, so she listened to it for a long time, before she let her body join the music in its flow.

.Three.

Usually she would go to dance in some club, but this time, the grief was too personal to broadcast it in public. Ashley Williams, dead due to a close call with Saren's units at the krogan cloning facility.

At least now honour of her family had been properly restored, even if it was only a little comfort to her jagged nerves.

Ashley was strong, and determined. It would be a great disservice to her memory to lose herself in sadness over her passing, abrupt as it was. Ashley was soldier, and she knew what she was signing in for, and had embraced her fate with what to Shepard sounded like acceptance.

That day, Shepard danced in privacy of her cabin, to several songs Ashley liked to hum when cleaning her weapons, and cried.

The next day, she was her usual composed self, and if she flinched internally at the remarks of how cold she can be, as she did the decision no one else was capable of making, no one was to know about it.

.Four.

It doesn't matter she's in the most seedy bar she could find.

It doesn't matter that she died and was brough back in project which took two years.

It didn't matter that for her it was only few weeks.

What mattered was the fact that the person, Kaidan Alenko, who was supposed to be one of those who knew her the best turned their back on her. Called her traitor. Left her.

Part of her was not really surprised. The Cerberus logo on her armour, two year long absence and foot-in-mouth question "how have you been" was enough reason to turn back on her. But at the same time, several non-humans were at her side at that moment - that should be enough proof of her not following the 'humanity first' agenda of her current benefactor. She should be given the benefit of doubt, should be given the time to explain.

With enough alcohol in her body, she threw herself in the midst of dancing bodies, letting herself be carried away, uncaring about hands touching her, about bodies pressing against her own.

Nothing mattered, just the music and the buzz.

.Five.

With detachment, some part of her realizes that the only times she dances are those when she was depressed. Everyone else seems to be dancing to celebrate, only she does it to grieve.

Like now.

Ashley. Mordin. Thane.

Crying would probably be better way how to grieve them, but when she remembers how much they loved to move, to dance and to sing, she can't grieve in any other way. She sways on her feet, feeling the air around her move as she does so. Momentarily uncaring about the music she hums Scientist Salarian song, the only she ever heard Mordin singing, raising her arms above her head as she spins around and thinks of oceans, life inside their waters and for a moment she can't breathe, until pair of strong arms hug her from behind and press her against similarly strong torso.

She doesn't protest when James guides her off the dance floor. It's only when she feels his lips on her forehead and hears him whispering "it hurt to look at you, Lola," that she cries.

And feels relief.

.And One.

Everyone always made fun of her that she can't dance to save her life. No one ever bothered to try out why her movements were so jerky, so uncoordinated, with no rhythm in them, all gangly arms and legs.

Until James came, and made her dance. Made her dance with fury, made her dance with humour, made her dance with joy.

Like now.

She never liked dresses much; always felt awkward when supposed to wear one. Especially when accompanied with high heels. But now, as she stands in front of James, who in turn wears tuxedo he confessed to dislike pretty strongly, she can't help but marvel at the picture they make; both scarred veterans, yet both of them dressed in the finest clothes they got and radiating with happiness at the day of their wedding.

Finally, the slow song they picked, Open Arms, starts playing and they step towards each other, he taking her right into his left; her left placed on his shoulder, as his right rested on her waist, before their feet start the slow waltz around the dance floor while all of their guests stand around in circle and curiously watch at the dancing wonder unveiling before their eyes.

James carefully leads their steps, looking deeply in her eyes and she smiles at him. "Think you can dance and talk at the same time?" she asks cheekily, and he smirks, remembering the first time they 'danced'. Suddenly, they come to a stop, her hands cradling his face as she stands on her tiptoes - even if she is wearing heels he's still taller than her - and his arms sneak around her waist to press her against him just like all those months ago.

Once they resume the dance, they smile at each other lovingly.

This time she danced to remember. And if she will have any say in it, it will be only one time of the many.