Shepard drove the rented car through the streets of the ward, zipping in and out of other cars. Samantha sat beside her, tightly gripping the door handle and looking out the window at the passing lights from cars and buildings. Shepard had ordered her to go on this trip, but hadn't mentioned where they were going or why, and Samantha had yet to build up the courage to ask. They had just left Mars; Samantha had only spoken to Shepard twice, and she was still a bit frightened of her. Shepard could be intimidating, in that "so driven it puts you to shame" sort of way. In a "I saved the galaxy twice. What have you been up to recently?" way. Samantha turned to look at her. Even through Shepard's sunglasses, Samantha could see that she even drove the car with a beautiful focus.

INTENSE FOCUS. Not "beautiful focus," she drove with an intense focus. "Beautiful focus" doesn't make sense.

The car pulled up to an Alliance facility. Shepard flashed her credentials to the automated gate, which beeped and opened. Samantha noticed that there was a guard at the gate, but otherwise the base was almost empty. This was a large Alliance base on the Citadel, it should be bustling with activity. But it was bare: almost a ghost town.

"Commander," Samantha meekly started, "Does this base seem…quiet to you? Shouldn't there be more people here?"

"You're not wrong. All available personnel have been diverted to the home front on Earth, so a skeleton crew is operating the base. Just enough to keep the lights on."

"What are we doing here?"

Shepard parked the car in front of a small, empty building. The walls were thick cement, and only had windows at the front. She turned off the engine and looked at Samantha through her sunglasses with that same beautiful focus as before. "Of everyone serving on the Normandy, only one is not cleared for combat." She paused, "you."

"That's not true!" she said, "I am sure Jeffery is not cleared for combat!"

"Joker once single handedly rid the ship of a Collector infestation. He gets a pass."

"He had EDI's help."

"He gets a pass. You don't." Samantha slumped into her chair. "As of right now, consider yourself in combat training. Now, come on." Shepard got out of the car, opened the trunk, and pulled out two large black plastic cases. She held one case in each hand.

Samantha got out of the car, "How long will this training continue?"

Shepard answered, "Until I'm satisfied with your performance, Specialist." She closed the trunk. "Now, can you get the door for me?"

Samantha ran to the door and opened it, "what is this building?"

"This is the firing range. Since I can't take you to the Spectre range, I arranged for us to practice here." Shepard shuffled by Samantha into the building. Samantha followed and studied the room. It was very plain. The Plain dark blue walls surrounded them in a simple rectangular box, a long desk stretched from wall to wall while metal cables hung above them holding human shaped targets on the far side of the room.

"I've fired a weapon before, Commander." Samantha said without pretense.

"You have? It was my understanding that you weren't combat trained at all."

"I went though basic training."

"You went through basic training?"

"Basically."

"You basically went through basic training."

"Yes." Samantha paused. Shepard removed her sunglasses and latched them to her shirt collar, looking Samantha in the eye with a puzzled gaze. Samantha continued, "Okay, I had to do all the PT, but on much of the combat I was given a pass. I wasn't recruited to fight, I was recruited to compile and analyze data streams. It's not uncommon for the Alliance to give its science and technology assets different training regimens."

Samantha was defending herself, but she didn't need to. Shepard did her best to not appear accusatory, not fully understanding how intimidating she could appear, "So what weapons have you fired?"

"It was a pistol. I think a Kessler I?"

Shepard smirked, "Today we'll be working with a little more kick." She knelt down and checked the writing on the two cases and unlocked one plastic suitcase. Inside was a collapsed M-8 Avenger, she handed the gun to Samantha without expanding it, "Okay, here's your weapon. This is an Avenger, standard issue. To open it you…"

Samantha opened the firearm and grasped the handle. "I'm a quick study."

"That's good. Okay, ground rules: One, always assume the weapon is loaded, so don't point it at anything you don't mind hitting."

"Right," Samantha made sure to hold the rifle so it was pointing down range.

"Two, keep your finger off the trigger until you are ready to fire."

"I remember." Samantha took her finger off the trigger.

"And 3: always be careful of your surroundings. You don't want to hit a comrade by mistake or by ricochet. In here, as long as you are pointing that way, you'll be okay."

"Yes ma'am."

"Okay, now," Shepard unlocked the second case, which also held an M-8 Avenger, and placed the still collapsed weapon on the counter. She moved the cases to the wall behind them, out of the way of her feet, "show me how you would hold the weapon in a combat situation."

It was a weighted request. Samantha had no idea how she would stand in a combat situation. Still standing up straight, with feet square with the desk, she brought the weapon to her right shoulder, twisted her torso so her feet and shoulders were perpendicular, and pointed the weapon down range. She brought her head down to the weapon, until it was almost sideways.

"Comfortable?" Shepard asked?

"Not really."

"That's how you know there's a problem. Put the weapon down." Samantha relaxed and placed the rifle on the counter.

"Okay," Shepard said as she positioned her feet on the floor. She mirrored her normal stance, so that Samantha could see, "Put your left foot just a little closer to the target than your other foot. Your right foot will mainly be the one that keeps you up." Samantha did as Shepard instructed, "Comfortable?" Samantha nodded. "Good, pick up the rifle."

Samantha picked up the rifle and Shepard walked to her, she guided the rifle to Samantha's shoulder. "The butt of the gun goes here." Shepard stepped back, looked at her stance, and shook her head. She walked behind Samantha, and pressed herself against her. Samantha couldn't help but blush. Shepard placed her hands on top of Samantha's, with her arms on top, "You need to bring your elbows in. Like this." Shepard brought her elbows down, guiding Samantha's. Samantha was having trouble focusing. Shepard's hands were on top of her own. Shepard was pressing her body against her. Her arms were hard, muscular, but had smooth skin. Her hands were strong and rough too, but she was using a soft grip. She wasn't crushing Samantha's hands; she was being gentile. Shepard was just being nice. Isn't she? She's trained people before; how often does she do this? It can't be often. Right? And are those? Yes. Those are Shepard's breasts, pressed against Samantha's back. Samantha gulped.

"Did you get all that?" Shepard asked. Samantha panicked. Shepard had been talking the whole time! "Yes ma'am."

Shepard stepped back, allowing Samantha to stand on her own. "Now, when you fire, lean into the shot to compensate for the kick. Be ready for it." She walked to her own rifle.

"Yes."

"Okay, fire when ready. Just a short burst, then we'll see how you did." Shepard opened her rifle. Samantha lined up the sites, putting the center of the target in her crosshairs. Shepard looked at her rifle. Her eyes widened, and she turned to Samantha, "Specialist! Wait!" Samantha pulled the trigger.

"BUDDA BUDDA BUDDA" The rifle rang out loud, louder than Samantha expected. "Ahh!" Samantha screamed, as the kick from the firing rifle shot the barrel upward. Shepard pounced into action and grabbed the rifle as Samantha let it go. Her hands and shoulder ached. Samantha looked at her hands.

"Damn it!" Shepard fumed.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Samantha begged.

"Vega, I'm going to kill you!"

"I'm so sorry, I…Vega?"

"Damn it, James! You had one job!" Shepard continued to scold, not looking up from the rifle.

"Commander?"

"I asked Vega to pack these two firearms. He put the wrong guns in the wrong cases. You were supposed to get the one that was modified to reduce recoil. Instead, you were firing mine, which has been made more powerful. The recoil was worse, not better." She looked up at Samantha, who was still holding her hands gingerly. Shepard put the rifle on the counter and walked to Samantha, and held the back of her hands, holding them up to get a better look. They were red. Raw. "These are going to blister. Eventually you'll develop some callouses, but until then we might get you some gloves."

"Aren't you going to yell at me?" Samantha asked, trying to wrap her head around the fact that the most famous woman in the galaxy was holding her hands.

"Why would I? I'm the one that screwed up and gave you the wrong gun."

"No, I mean, isn't that what drill instructors do? Aren't you going to yell at me? And call me a maggot? Say something about steers and…"

"No," Shepard interrupted, "I'm not going to do that."

"Is it because you think I am weak? I'm not. I can handle it."

Shepard looked at Samantha in the eyes, "No. I know you're not weak. Not at all." Shepard spoke with purpose, "drill sergeants go through that act so they can break down new recruits. They tear you apart so they can rebuild you how they want. That's not what I want."

"It's not?"

"We need you, Specialist. We need you as you are." She paused, "We're in a war. I cannot guarantee that we won't ever be boarded. If that happens, I want to make sure that you are able to take care of yourself. That you are able to get out."

"I was planning on just finding you and sticking with you," Samantha remarked.

"Not a bad plan, but I won't always be there. I need you to be able to defend yourself. I need you to survive."

Samantha blushed, "uh…yes ma'am." The women noticed that they were still holding hands.

Shepard let her hands go, "Oh, um…here," Shepard reached into her back pocket and pulled out some fingerless leather gloves. They were black, but faded and worn. "Here, these should help your hands." Samantha put them on, the pressure of the gloves stung a bit, but it was nothing Samantha couldn't handle. She wasn't weak.

Shepard adjusted a setting on the weapon Samantha didn't fire, "I'm setting it on semi-automatic. We'll work on aiming with this before we try automatics. Here." She handed it to Samantha, "Now, get in your position."

Samantha had a new confidence, even with the throbbing in her chest and the pain in her hands. She aimed the weapon.

"Fire."

BLAM. Samantha pulled the trigger, steady through the recoil.

"Good. Again."