Of Showers and Settling
"Oh man," Shepard groaned as she slumped to the door to her private quarters. It had been a long mission in the swampiest region of the most humid planet in Citadel space—Fushaeda. Fortunately, the decontamination system of the Normandy SR2 eliminated any parasitic or viral threats. Unfortunately, it left the layers of foul-smelling mud that accumulated in every possible crack and fold in your armor. It was bad enough hearing her team, who had escaped relatively unscathed, laugh at her, but Joker's unabashed guffawing and Kelly's misguided optimism ("Well…it'll be great for your skin, Commander!") had been the last straw. All Shepard wanted was a nice, long, hot shower followed by an unbroken eight-hour sleep in her own—
The automatic door hissed open, but her entrance was blocked by a dark menacing figure. As the stench of Shepard's armor reached it, it jerked back violently and started coughing.
"Holy shit, Shepard! You smell like ass and death! You smell like dead ass!"
Shepard sighed wearily, "Hello, Jack, I'd recognize your dulcet tones anywhere."
The younger woman ignored the gibe and collected herself, leaning against the threshold, arms crossed. "Whatever. I'm taking your room."
"What?" She was too tired for this. "Listen, lemme take a shower, and then I—"
"I was thinking about what you said earlier," Jack didn't move, "You know, about how my room in Engineering is a pit and all?"
Shepard sighed inwardly but nodded, resigned. She raked her fingers through her matted hair, dislodging clumps of mud and vegetation.
"Well, you were right," the biotic's grin was feral, "I don't want to stay there anymore."
"Okay, Jack, where do you want to sleep?"
"Here."
Sleepy neurons sparked, failed to establish the connection. "But…this is my room. Why should I let you—"
"Because I came, I saw, I want, I fucking take." Blue fire ignited around Jack's fists and her eyes grew hard.
"That's not how it works, Jack," Shepard drew herself up to her full height, a good five inches taller than the diminutive biotic. She knew Jack was able, perhaps even willing, to kill her, but the marine refused to be intimidated.
"Fine," the brilliant flames flickered out, "if you give me your room, I won't kill the cheerleader when all this is over, happy?"
Shepard rubbed her aching shoulders, "Not what I hoped for, but fine. You don't kill Miranda or," she gave Jack a stern look, "anyone else on my ship and you can have the room."
Jack's face broke into an uncharacteristically genuine smile, "Gee, thanks, Shepard!"
"Let me get a few things and it's all yours."
Shepard pushed past Jack, not waiting for a reply, and moved about the cabin, gathering her personal items—clothes, toiletries, etc. The resulting armload was pitifully light.
"Hey." Jack was at the empty fish-tank, fingertips tracing the glass. The blue glow illuminated her figure, making the little skin that remained free of dark tattoos look startlingly pale. "Why no little fishies, Shepard?"
"I don't like fish, they're depressing," Shepard answered absentmindedly, wondering if she'd forgotten anything.
"Then why have a giant goddamn aquarium?"
"I guess the big brains at Cerberus interior design thought it fitting." Shepard flashed a wry grin over her shoulder at the other woman, "They want to spoil me and convince me to stay, but as soon as this Collector business is over, the Illusive Man and I are through."
"Fuck him. Fuck Cerberus," Jack's shoulder-blades jutted out angularly, casting stark shadows beneath her leather straps. "You're not gonna burn him?"
"Not unless he forces my hand," Shepard answered carefully, "I don't kill someone just because I hate them or think they're scum. Besides, we may need Cerberus money and tech against the Reapers."
"I guess." Jack turned away from the glowing aquarium, her face shadowed.
Shepard moved to the automatic door, hesitated, "Good night, Jack."
" 'Night, Shepard. And…thanks."
The Commander slipped out of her cabin and waited until the elevator doors hissed shut before allowing herself a small smile.
"Thanks, Doc," Shepard called over her shoulder as she left the medbay, "You go ahead and turn in, I need a shower."
She took off towards the crew showers, forcing her tired muscles to push against the layers of mud that had hardened into clay. Thank the Enkindlers Chakwas had taken her in; she couldn't stand Jack's dark, cramped quarters in Engineering. The constant evil glow of the red heater and guide lights—
Flash! No air, no air, no air, panic! So very cold…Clumsy fingers desperately searching for the leak in her suit, in the seal between helmet and armor. Turning slowly, body jack-knifing away from the wreckage of the ship that had been her only home, upwards, downwards—no meaning of direction in space—towards a vast and uncaring planet. A frigid eternity of stars spread around her, distant but watching her die with an aloof menace.
"Joker!" She screamed uselessly, lack of oxygen making her dizzy. She had saved him, hadn't she? She'd slammed the pod release, didn't she?
It was so hard, so hard to remember, her brain was all fuzzy. Her movements slowed without her telling them to, limbs unresponsive. Her body turned slowly, so slowly, and now she was facing the system's sun. The huge red orb was so very bright against the backdrop of space, so bright, so…a dim tunnel closed in around her and when her body began to burn upon atmosphere entry, she couldn't feel a thing.
Shepard collapsed against the slick metal wall, hands trembling uncontrollably. Her stomach heaved but she swallowed the urge to vomit. Not here, where the crew could see. She passed a dirty hand across her lips.
"Commander Shepard," a cool feminine voice issued from the AI interface node behind her, "Are you feeling ill?"
Shepard pushed off the wall. "Thank you, EDI, I'm fine."
The simple blue hologram flickered, "Scans of vitals and brain activity would indicate otherwise. I recommend you proceed to Dr. Chakwas in the medical bay."
"Thanks, EDI, but what I really need right now is a shower, and I don't want to disturb the good doctor." Shepard bent to pick up the towel that she'd dropped and turned into the women's shower area.
"I will send someone to check up on you," she heard EDI say behind her. Good luck with that. Shepard shook her head. This was—as she'd been reminded so many times now—a civilian ship. No required "night" shifts so there would hardly be anyone awake, much less open to visiting a possibly sick and unstable Spectre.
The door hissed shut behind her and she gratefully peeled off her muddy armor and the black skinsuit beneath it. She did a quick camera sweep before taking off her underwear (she'd already found and confiscated Zaeed's surveillance equipment as well as a few Cerberus button cameras, but there was no point in getting lazy). She stepped into the shower and turned the heat on full, relaxing under a powerful stream of boiling water. The dried muck softened and slicked off, sticking slightly to the rough Cerberus scars. Steam curled around her face, relaxing fatigued muscles and the force of the water felt like a deep-tissue massage.
"Mmm." Shepard cautiously began working on her hair.
The door hissed open and she yelped, scrambling to pull the shower stall door closed.
"Hey Commander!" Kelly chirruped, her short red hair flouncing with each brisk step. She bent down to collect Shepard's discarded clothing.
"I saw you come in and I just knew you wouldn't get these cleaned, so I'm going to do it for you."
"Uh—Kelly…" Shepard's cheeks were burning.
"Don't worry, silly!" Her administrative assistant winked, "I'm a woman too, you know, it's not like I haven't seen—"
"Thank you, Kelly!" Shepard said hurriedly, clutching the stall door as if it were in danger of coming off its hinges.
"No problem, Commander!" Kelly all but skipped back out into the corridor.
Shepard sighed and turned back to her shower, making sure to latc the stall door shut. The ship's psychologist irked her…maybe there was something deep in that? Oh well. Kelly meant well, at least.
She stayed under the water for about five more minutes, untangling her hair and finger-combing out all the muck until it slipped freely through her calloused hands.. Regretfully, she turned the water off and picked up the towel. Oh shit.
Shepard checked the corners of the room, but knew it was no use. How the hell had she forgotten fresh clothes? Maybe she didn't forget, maybe Kelly had taken them by mistake along with her armor—it didn't matter.
"Crap."
Well, there was really only one thing to do. Shepard wrapped her towel tightly around her, cringing at her exposed legs. The damn thing couldn't be a little wider? Beads of water from her still-wet hair rand down her neck over her collarbones and dropped beneath the fuzzy white towel. Kelly had been overjoyed to see her in that dratted formal wear Kasumi had made her wear…this was far worse.
Okay, she formulated a plan of attack: run quickly and quietly down the hall and duck into the medbay without being noticed by anyone. Yeah, right. She'd have to hope to go unnoticed.
She shook her head as she walked through the door, "This has been the worst night."
"That's funny, mine just got a whole lot better."
Shepard's stomach plummeted sickeningly and she looked up, with a mounting sense of horror, to see her pilot leaning casually against the railing. He didn't bother to hide his amusement, a ridiculously wide grin splitting his bearded face.
"What the hell are you doing here, Joker?" She demanded, blushing furiously and self-consciously clutching the towel closer.
"EDI said you were acting funny," he shrugged, still smiling, "I figured I could come down and give ya a bad time about looking like the creature from the Black Lagoon."
"Well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm fine and completely un-muddy now," Shepard said pointedly.
"I noticed." His green eyes flicked down to her bare legs and deliberately moved upwards until they met her hazel ones. She opened her mouth to protest, but he beat her to it.
"Why are you using the 'lowly laymen' facilities? I heard your cabin even has a minibar."
She decided to let it go. "Jack stole my room…and, for the record, there's no minibar."
"So you're going down to Engineering like that?" He indicated her toweled state with an arched eyebrow and a slight nod. "That Kenneth guy would have a heart attack."
"No, I'm bunking in medbay." Shepard began walking down the corridor and he limped beside her.
"Nice," he nodded sarcastically, "Plenty of windows."
She rolled her eyes. "Your concern is touching, Joker."
"Jeez, how hot was that water? Your back is really red."
"I'm not giving you shower details, Jeff, you should know better."
He grinned appreciatively, "That's fine, I'll just ask Zaeed. He's got cameras everywhere."
"Not anymore, he doesn't, I took 'em down a week ago."
"Damn."
"EDI really sent you?"
"Yep. Either she's developing a cruel sense of humor, or she has no concept of…ah…"
"Human gender relations slash customs?"
"Sure."
The towel was slipping and she adjusted it, intensely aware of her pilot's gaze.
"Why medbay?" His question caught her offguard.
"What do you mean?"
"Why not just take Jack's old bunk?" He studied her face, analyzing her reaction.
"I can't sleep with the red light," she said simply, looking away. Some thick strands of wet hair slapped against her cheek and stuck.
"Why not?" He asked casually, unexpectedly reaching across and, with gentle fingers, tucking the errant locks behind her ear.
"It reminds me of when I died," she said without thinking, shocked slightly by the intimate gesture.
He looked away. "I…I never did thank you. For saving my ass, I mean."
She shook her head, inwardly relieved he hadn't been offended. "My pleasure."
"I should've died. Not you." They'd reached the medbay door, and he spun her to face him. She could see the pain and guilt on his face, and it struck her that the thought had haunted him for two years.
"Don't blame yourself," Shepard impulsively reached up and ran her hand along his jaw, masking her unease with a smile, "I'm back now, anyway."
"I killed you once," he held her gaze steadily, "Who's to say it won't happen again?"
"We all die eventually, Jeff." They stood awkwardly for a moment, and Shepard made a quick decision. She leaned forward and kissed him quickly, still holding the towel tightly around her. Before he could react, she stepped back, looking down at her feet.
"No one really wants to die, but, given the choice, we'd be proud to die for our loved ones. If I had to," she turned to avoid seeing his reaction, "I'd do it again gladly."
She stepped quickly into medbay and the automatic door hissed shut between them. Shepard waited for a moment, listening intently. Outside, she heard him sigh and she frantically tried to identify the motions that the simple exhalation carried, failed, then listened to the unique limp-shuffle as he walked away.
Shepard turned the lights out, polarized the windows, found her clothes, dressed, and lay down in one of the surprisingly comfortable cots. Despite her lingering doubts and misgivings over telling him, and her fear of discovering his true reaction later, she was inwardly relieved. A heavy weight had lifted from her shoulders—a welcome reduction that she couldn't imagine going through the Omega 4 relay without. The others had their various last tasks and obligations—personal issues they needed to settle, well, this had been hers. As she drifted off to sleep, she allowed herself a slight smile.