Title: Dark Cloud
Author: Lucky Gun
Description: Shepard pushes Kaidan away with every weapon in her arsenal after the worst of Cerberus' controls over her comes to light. Angst, romance, emotional hurt/comfort. Post survival ME3, Paragon FemShep/Kaidan, overwhelming Shenko, some language
A/N: This closes a conversation in my own head, something that I was never able to see in my imagination. Maybe I've romanticized the soldier's life too much, but...I think this is accurate in the setting of this game. Don't shoot me. References my other ME stories. You don't have to read them to understand the overall, but some details make more sense if you do.
She was all smiles as they loaded into the shuttle, her deft hands running a check over his armor and giving him a playful swat on his ass as she finished. He looked over his shoulder at her, whiskey eyes laughing under raised eyebrows, and she stuck her tongue out at him. He grinned, pulled her in for a quick kiss, and let her go as she squirmed in his grasp, complaining about the whiskers he hadn't had a chance to shave. She rubbed her cheek with one hand as she mockingly glared at him while moving to the front of the vessel. He shook his head, refusing to blush under Garrus' open stare, and settled into his seat. Shepard stayed near the cockpit as they left the Normandy and skimmed across the atmosphere of yet another planet. They were all blurring together now in the two years after the defeat of the Reapers. The Alliance's flagship had been given the neverending but routine job of cleaning up all the fanatics and mercenaries that were still trying to take advantage of the chaos leading up to the final battle on Earth.
Still...Kaidan stared at her, mindlessly spinning the ring on his left hand, feeling its etchings under the pad of his thumb, and thought there was something different about his wife lately.
He carefully locked away that concept, compartmentalizing like he always did, and pulled on his gloves with practiced moves. There were some bumps and jostles, and it took them a minute longer than planned to get to their landing zone. It was just enough time for him to catch her looking at him out of the corner of her eye, something not right in her gaze, something a shade darker than black. He turned fully, making no secret that he caught her, and whatever was in her head disappeared behind a wicked smile.
"Loser cooks dinner!" Shepard called over the sound of the thrusters firing, and Kaidan pulled his rifle, reminding himself that his love was a soldier, a Spectre, and a woman...and not necessarily in that exact order.
He reached up and tapped his chest twice, right where a combination of his and her dog tags rested under his breastplate, their silent, private signal. She pulled her shotgun and her left hand glowed with biotics as she repeated the motion, bringing her fingers to her lips afterwards. Her right cheek shimmered blue, mostly hidden under her helmet, and she smiled as she snapped the facing shut. He nodded once, sealed away the section of him that echoed with her, and jumped off the shuttle directly behind her.
He would always have her six.
Twelve hours later, he stared at her from across the counter, sitting quietly, carefully nursing his beer as his shoulder twinged. She hummed absently as she sauteed up some thick slices of steak – how she'd snuck it aboard, he didn't know – and he watched her carefully. This was a very different view, one he hadn't been privy to in thirty seven missions. Every other time, he was on the other side, hands on the knives and watching her watch him. She always stocked the fridge, putting everything he cooked with on the bottom shelf, and she didn't let her appreciation go by quietly. Watching her bend over to get some peppers, he thought that he could get used to this side of the table.
But it still made him wonder how he'd won at all.
It was a simple game of points for kills, and while he was usually never more than three or four behind her, this time she'd lost to him by double digits. Hell, even Garrus had claimed more kills than her, and he'd been perched high and far in a sniper's nest. She had waved it off as they left the planet, pointing at her shotgun with a frown and reminding them, firmly, that she was training in a new discipline. As an excuse, it was extremely passable, and less than suspicious.
As a talented biotic with a penchant for long range kills and heavy pistols, it was curious.
Kaidan was tied up in his own thoughts long enough that it took him a few moments to realize that the pleasant smell of meat cooking was getting a little acrid. He glanced up from his beer and frowned at her, where she was still, staring at the pan in front of her with a sort of frozen distance that sent shivers down his spine.
"Shep? Dinner's burning," he said softly, and she only jumped a little as she immediately began moving the food around, laughing gently. "Sorry, it just reminded me of that date at Apollo's Cafe. Remember when you didn't want to know how they were still managing to get steak on the Citadel?"
Kaidan smiled and tipped his beer at her as she took a healthy swig of her own. "That was a perfectly appropriate worry, Shepard, and I'm not going to apologize for it," he chastised jokingly, and she winked at him as she continued working on their dinner. She dished it up with no further distractions, their conversation flowing easily, and Shepard laughed in all the right places.
They finished their meals in the empty mess, heated looks leading to a quick tumble up the elevator into their quarters. It was passionate, and perfect, everything in her responding exactly to everything in him. His fingers trailed a blaze up blue over her breasts, her palms lit a wildfire across his shoulders, and the taste of cherry blossoms and coffee followed them both over the edge. Moisture slicked their skin, the light warmth in the room comforting. Shepard fell asleep soon after, blond hair long enough to cover her implant hiding her eyes from him. Kaidan lay on his side and memorized her face like he always did, raising a careful hand to move her bangs, and his movements slowed as he gently tucked her hair behind her ears.
There were small beads of sweat on her cheeks, but they didn't disguise the thick breach of tears that had followed her into slumber. He stared at her, his thumb moving softly over her skin to erase them from existence.
He slept poorly that night.
"Calibrations?"
His voice echoed in the forward battery room, and Garrus didn't turn as he chuckled, his hands never leaving his work. "Always something to do up here, colonel. Ever since this ship wiped out that Collector vessel, I've made sure to keep her in top shape." As Kaidan came around the front of the Turian's workstation, the alien glanced at him, frowned, and straightened, pausing in his movements. "But that's certainly not why you came down here. Something on your mind?"
Chuckling, Kaidan leaned back against the left gun casing behind him and asked, "I'm that transparent, huh?"
Shrugging, Garrus walked over to a station along the wall, pulling out a pair of stools, one set to a shorter height for Tali. He took it without pause, and Kaidan hesitated for only a moment before he sat on the slightly taller one. He spun to the work station, mindlessly picking at a defect in the table, and worried his bottom lip.
"Shep...she's been, I don't know. She's been different since our last shore leave. Distracted, distant, seems to lose her place when she's talking to me sometimes. She's lost five times in a row on dinner chores. And when I try to ask her about it...she turns it around and makes me feel like I'm the one losing my mind," he explained haltingly, refusing to look up at his friend.
Because, while Garrus was absolutely a brother-in-arms and Shepard's closest friend, going to a Turian for relationship advice felt a little ridiculous, especially a Vakarian.
To Kaidan's surprise, the avian-reptile didn't scoff or jeer, but instead nodded slightly, raising a talon to cradle his chin. "I figured you had noticed it before I did. I didn't pick up on it until a few days ago, and that's only after Tali said something to me. Of course, her phrasing was filled with Quarian insults, not all of which I've translated, but I got the concept well enough. Edi's worried, too."
Blinking, the Spectre looked up, seeing none of the derision he'd been expecting. Kaidan felt simultaneously relieved and ashamed. Dropping his eyes again, he swallowed and quietly said, "She's...we haven't made love for almost two weeks. That's...unusual. Every time I make an advance, she comes up with work she has to do or a report she forgot to file. And every time she's, I don't know. Sad? Frustrated? Angry? I can't tell."
Even at this, Garrus was understanding. His own relationship with Tali had recently grown to that level, and while he hadn't married her yet, he still planned to make an honest general out of her eventually.
"Yeah, I'd call that unusual, too. The two of you are usually dripping with pheromones. Lately, she's smelled different. Shepard's scent is, I don't know – dim? Is that the right word? Something other than normal, not as bright," he rumbled, crossing his arms.
Whatever Kaidan had expected to find in the battery, he hadn't, and whatever he needed, he hadn't found, either. Sighing, he hung his head, letting his forehead rest on the tabletop in front of him.
"Dammit, Garrus...I have no idea what to do. She won't talk to me."
Shrugging, the Turian clicked his mandibles and answered, "If females were supposed to be easy to understand, they'd be called males." Kaidan raised his head, staring at his friend, and couldn't stop the chuckle that crossed his lips.
Well, he didn't find what he was looking for, but he sure as hell felt better.
"Goddammit, Kaidan! I said nothing's wrong! You keep asking and the only thing that's wrong is that you won't take a simple fuck off!" she shouted before storming into the bathroom and palming the door shut.
He stared at the red ward on the metal panel, feeling exceptionally confused and angry, and sat down hard on the edge of their bed. He scrubbed his face with his palms, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to fight off the beginnings of a headache in the back of his head. He sat there for several minutes, rewinding their argument and trying to figure exactly which left field it had come out of. The evening had gone...well, normally, as normal had been for a month. She'd skipped dinner after losing their kill count on the moon earlier, sequestered herself a dark corner of the CIC for eight hours, and then had tried to pass out, exhausted, in their bed. He'd tried – God's honest, he had – but every time he spoke, he just seemed to make it worse.
Remembering a bottle of pure Russian vodka hidden in the starboard lounge, Kaidan stood and stepped heavy up the stairs towards the entry of their room. He paused at the bathroom door, raising a hand to knock, and paused. He leaned forward, swallowing hard, the tips of his fingers brushing against the cool aluminum. He closed his eyes tight, pressing his forehead on the portal, something thick wrapping around his throat and making it hard to breathe.
Barely, just barely, he could make out the faint echoes of her hitching sobs.
Three days later, he was battling through a migraine, the darkness and coolness in their room soothing the burning fire but a little. He was on top of the covers, boots hanging off the edge, one arm lax and over the side, his fingers trailing the metal flooring. He was drugged enough from the meds Chakwas had pumped into him that he felt dazed, half-dead, and exhausted. The pain had kept him up for forty eight hours already and he was barely awake when he felt the rush of air as their door opened.
He couldn't move if he'd tried.
Still, Kaidan could feel well enough, even if he was practically paralyzed, and he roused mentally even as his body remained limp. He felt the cool touch of her fingers against his brow, smoothing out pain lines, and her disembodied voice shushed him softly when he groaned. Her hands were sure but careful as she gently worked his boots off of his feet, setting them aside, and she rolled him over slowly onto his back. His antiemesis meds were working well enough that he didn't throw up at the movement, but he still gagged hard.
"God...I'm so sorry, Kaidan. Please...oh God...you're going to hate me."
The low whisper of her voice crawled over the outer edges of his consciousness, and he was vaguely aware that she seemed awfully upset for something as simple as him having a migraine.
Her fingers were quick, stripping him carefully of his uniform, getting him down to his boxers and pulling the covers over top of him. There were a few seconds of silence before there was the sound of water in the bathroom, and a cool cloth pressed against his eyes moments later. Kaidan felt his muscles relax even more, the edges of his agony tempering like it always did in her hands, and his tongue felt thick as he forced it to work.
"Shep...love you."
The hand that was holding the compress shook minutely, and he wished he had enough motor control to reach up and hold her. But the chemicals in his veins were pulling him under, no sympathy for his plight. He only hoped he could remember why he was supposed to hate her.
For the first time since he'd been sidelined after Mars, not including the last push on Earth, Shepard left him behind.
It was a stinging wound, something he felt somewhere between his lungs, and he crossed his arms as he watched the shuttle slip from the cargo bay. Garrus and James were with her, and while the training the Marine had received was outstanding, that didn't mean Kaidan trusted him to have his wife's six.
The next four hours was spent pacing mindlessly, tinkering with mods, and ignoring everything in him that used to rail against this sort of behavior. This – exactly this, right here, every part of it – was why there were fraternization regulations in the Alliance military. He had a half dozen reports to file and two vid calls to make, not to mention the infirmary had needed some tending recently, and he did none of it. He simply waited in the bay, sat back on his Spectre status, and tried his damnedest not to worry.
When the shuttle blazed in to dock twice as fast as it should've, Kaidan felt every part of him shatter.
Cortez locked into the port too quick for it to have been anything but an injury, and the door opened too fast for it to be for anyone but Shepard. Before he could even jump into the shuttle, Garrus was there, something extremely tight in his face. He brought up hands that were covered with blood, red blood, human blood, and pushed Kaidan back while medics swarmed the dock.
"Goddammit, that's my wife!" he snapped, straining against the alien's brute strength, and he couldn't keep his eyes off the limp body of the woman who was being stretchered towards the elevator. Hands were still on him, keeping him in place, and his biotics flared a whitish blue.
"Colonel, shut up and listen to me!"
These words got through, mostly because they were punctuated by a sharp shake and a slight puncture in his shoulder from a long talon. The pain cut through him and grounded him, made him aware that he was lighting up the bay with dark mass lighting and treacherous energy waves. His Turian friend was directly in front of him, blocking his path to the elevator, wincing at the sharp bite of his L2.
"She's going to be fine, okay? It was a through and through, transverse abdominal. She's lost a lot of blood but there isn't any organ damage. She's going to be fine," Garrus growled, removing his hands from the man's shoulders as the high tide slowly ebbed.
Angry, Kaidan bit out, "Why the hell did you stop me from going to her?"
At this, Garrus crossed his arms and spoke with that sort of bluntness that he was well known for. "She said it was either you or pain meds, Alenko. She wouldn't accept any morphine or anything unless...look, she ordered me to keep you away from her."
Stunned, Kaidan felt his mouth open to speak, but he honestly had nothing to say to that. He blinked at his friend, utterly confused, and stayed silent. Time spun a bit, and it was later that night, midnight on the ship's cycle, when he managed to sneak into the infirmary, unseen. Garrus had finally fallen asleep, though Kaidan wasn't sure the alien wasn't deliberately letting him slip his leash. He was as worried about her as the rest of the command crew. Shepard was on her back in a bed, two drips into her left arm and a cannula over her nose, small tabs on her chest tracking her vitals. The blanket was pulled over her, up to her chest, and her right hand was in a tight fist over her stomach.
She wasn't asleep, but he didn't want to startle her, especially considering her orders to Garrus, so he hesitated then flared his biotics.
Her implant hummed at the back of his thoughts like always, and he felt it wind up a bit in response to his touch. She jerked in place, a low moan sounding through her nose, and she blinked up at the ceiling for a minute. He let his energy rise, drawing her attention, and she rolled her head to the side, finding him instantly.
He was still leaning against the far wall, his arms wrapped around himself, a five o'clock shadow and exhaustion darkening his face. Her expression grew carefully shuttered, then, with a quick look at the labeled meds dripping into her, her eyes turned absolutely icy.
"Get out." Her voice was rough with drugs and exhaustion and pain, and still held more command than it should have.
He didn't move, though he pulled back his biotics a bit, and he stared at her across the distance; it seemed so much further than a twelve foot room.
"You ordered Garrus to keep me away from you."
It was a statement leading to a fight, something he actively tried to avoid. He was so tired, so far past caring, and he just wanted things to be back the way they were.
"Yeah, I'll have to write him up. Get. Out."
Shaking his head, Kaidan stepped forward and snapped, "You're in the medbay after losing a third of your fucking blood volume and you won't let your second in command – your goddamn husband – in to see you. You owe me a fucking explanation!" His eyes snapped blue then honey again, his almost infinite patience worn and his control slipping…so close to the edge.
Something abruptly changed in her expression – fear, awareness? – and there was a thin sheen of tears in her gaze. He froze, stunned, as she started to speak.
"Kaidan, I..."
It was the first time she'd directly addressed him without using his rank in almost six weeks. Then she exhaled sharply and literally clapped her right hand over her mouth as she squeezed her eyes shut. She shook her head hard tears slipped down her face.
"No, just get out. Just get the fuck out!" she suddenly screamed, pointing at the door. Kaidan felt part of him shift, something inside, and he swallowed hard. His choices were black and white, fight or flee, and the last time he'd been here and chosen 'fight', he had broken a Turian's neck.
He snapped off a salute that was sarcastic in its perfection.
"Yes, ma'am."
He stormed out of the infirmary with his own tears of frustration slipping down his face, and found himself face to face with Garrus. The door behind him shut quickly, but not before they could both hear her crying. Kaidan stared, unashamed, biotics burning around him with almost no control, and Garrus sighed heavily and raised a helpless hand.
"I take it she didn't give you a clue as to what's going on?" he asked quietly, and the human sniffed softly, feeling absolutely, completely alone. It took a few minutes of careful breathing, eyes closed and emotions locked into utilitarian footlockers in his head, for the inferno around him to shift to smoldering coal. He kept that tight grip on his implant when he opened his eyes and immediately saw flecks of her blood still staining Garrus' claws.
"There's something she won't tell me," he finally eased out, relieved when his biotics continued dimming. "When she saw she was on a narcotic drip, she closed up. They always make her loopy, make her talk a lot."
Kaidan glanced at the infirmary out of the corner of his eye and whispered, "I won't ever give up on her. But this...I can't fix this."
Sixty five days after they had returned from their last shore leave, Shepard pulled rank and dropped the Normandy in a system that was policed, lawful, and beautiful. There were six planets and dozens of moons in orbit around a bright star, half of them habitable, and all of them luxurious. She gave the entire ship's complement seventy two hours liberty after consulting with Edi's main core, and followed her command crew to one of the less populated moons. She had disappeared the second the shuttle landed, not even giving her husband a glance. It was becoming the new normal. Still, while Spectre credits spent easily in the veritable paradise, Kaidan didn't find any peace.
Instead he wandered mindlessly, agitated and frustrated, for much of the day. The place was rather like a mountainside village, clean and simple, but even after six rounds through the streets, he still found himself on new roads.
That's how he found his wife sitting quietly on a bench, her gaze a thousand yards away, her faded N7 tank top doing nothing against the bite in the air. She was sitting perfectly straight, the bandages around her stomach forcing her posture. Kaidan came up behind her and stared at her still form for several minutes, arguing with himself, debating, thinking of everything that he did and didn't understand about the last two months of his life. He shifted, and the cool metal of his dog tags touched his chest in a new way.
Shepard shivered, and he moved without thinking.
His long sleeve Henley was warm enough, and he pulled his jacket off and set it gently over her shoulders. She didn't even move to pull it tighter to her, and Kaidan came around the front of the bench and sat next to her, close enough that she could feel his body heat, close enough that he could feel her chill. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, staring at his hands, eyes fixed on the silver ring on his finger. The coding on the band were as familiar as his own heartbeat – her birthday and blood type – and he stared at the small scratches all over the metal.
"I'm sorry."
Her words were quiet, soft, and full of such self-loathing that it made him jerk. He looked at her, really looked at her, and anything he wanted to say sunk to his gut. There were twin tear tracks down her face, her eyes fixed on that same point, and he shifted closer automatically.
"I went to the doctor during our last shore leave," she said softly, voice dead, and he felt his heart leap to the back of his throat. Nightmares he'd suffered through for two years strangled any rational thought, and he didn't realize he moved. His hand latched onto her knee as he asked quickly, "Are you sick? Is something wrong with your implants?"
Some strange smile crossed her lips before disappearing entirely, and she answered eventually, "No. No, I'm...I'm fine. Healthy, fit for duty."
Exhaling slowly, Kaidan felt the fear that had surged through him reduce to a low simmer. She wouldn't lie to him, not like that. He ducked his head and pulled his hand back, interlocking his fingers tightly. He remembered how good it felt to hold her, and realized how much he missed it. Staring at his hands, he swallowed and finally raised his gaze again, turning to look at her. She didn't even seem to realize he was still there.
"Shep, love, you've got to tell me what's going on. Please. You keep pushing me away every way you know how to. And...it's working. Please, just...just talk to me," he begged, trying to meet her eyes. But her focus was still in the distance, and while he took a moment to try to pick out her target, her words – broken, pained, fearful – echoed in his ears.
"Cerberus didn't want me to have anything. They even led the Collectors to Horizon to try and kill you. They didn't want me to have anything...nothing more than the mission, nothing more than the only thing I'm good for," she panted quietly, hot tears slipping faster down her face. That same moment, he caught her focal point.
Across the street, a few hundred feet away, a small playground thrived with life as children of a half dozen species played, screamed, and tumbled over the land.
There was a split second as everything fell into place, every argument, every harsh word, and Kaidan's eyes slipped shut as she cried.
"They fixed everything, brought me back to take life, end life, never to create it," she whispered, finally ducking her head and gripping his jacket, crossing her arms in front of her and doubling over. "Oh God...I'm so sorry, Kaidan. I'm so sorry! I hurt you so badly...I'm so sorry!"
Nothing in his genetic code could keep him from sliding closer and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her against him, careful of the bandages around her stomach. "Shh, love. It's okay, it's okay," he said softly, rocking her mindlessly. He pressed his chin against the back of her neck, feeling the metal of her implant through her hair, and he mindlessly dropped a light kiss to the edge.
"It's not okay! I'm the fucking Commander, first human Spectre, Star of Terra...all that bullshit, those stupid awards, stupid accolades, and all I've wanted since I married you is to be the mother of your children! And I can't...fuck...everything I've done in my life and I can't even do that for you!" she sobbed into his arms, and he soothed her gently, his hand rubbing up and down her arm.
"They took everything from me!" she screamed into his chest, shuddering as he held her tighter. "Two years of my life, the faith of anyone I've ever loved, any future I could've made. Haven't we paid enough, Kaidan?" she cried, fingers gripping his shirt tightly.
He could feel warm dampness easing through his top, and he fought back his own responses for a long moment before trusted himself enough to respond.
"Yeah, we have, Shep. And we did. We paid three years between us, five years of hell. We paid in blood and sweat, the lives of friends, our own souls. And it's over, if you want it to be over. No more fighting, no more battles. Just you and me, somewhere quiet, somewhere clean and whole and right. Say the word, love. You're good for more than what they wanted from you. Let me prove it to you," he whispered, his lips tracing his words over her ear, and she slowly quieted.
"And I never...I never lost faith. Never. In your path, your allies? Maybe. But never in you," he added after a minute, the honesty in his voice coming through clear. She finally raised her eyes, green and red-rimmed, and there was enough quiet torture in his face that new tears started falling.
"I'm so sorry. I couldn't...I didn't know how to tell you. I thought that there was a future beyond our sacrifices, a future beyond us, something that we could...we could keep safe. And then the doctor...she didn't know I didn't know. She brought it up like she was talking about the weather. 'Since you're unable to have children, have you been taking unnecessary risks in the field?' She just...I didn't know. And when I did, I felt like I had lied to you. How was I supposed to tell you that they left me as sterile as that damn laboratory?" she desperately asked, her fingers twisting in his shirt.
Kaidan couldn't deny the bit of hurt in his voice as he caught her gaze and held it, even as he took her hands in his and held them gently. "You should have told me. Forget that I had a right to know, forget that you were lashing out in ways that you knew...you knew would cut me. Forget all the hell of the last two months, the fear...Jesus, you lost so much blood and I thought you were going to die and leave me alone without any idea what I had done to you, or why you hated me!"
His voice had risen a bit and he abruptly stopped himself and shut his eyes, swallowing down the temper that he'd been born with and had spent a lifetime learning to control. He breathed deeply for a few moments, exhaling slowly through his mouth, and when he returned his gaze to her, there was a deeper sense of peace there than had been present since the last time they'd had liberty.
"Like I said, forget all of that. You should have told me because I am your husband, and you are my wife, and you should not have gone through that alone. You should have trusted me to help you then. You need….I need you to trust me to help you now. And I need you to help me, because no one...no one should go through this alone."
There was a sort of misery in the way her voice hitched as she breathed, "I hurt you so badly, Kaidan. How can I fix this? How can you even let me try?"
The answer was easy and quick, twisting his lips into a smile even as he didn't speak. He simply raised her hand and pressed a kiss to her wedding band – etched with his birth date, his blood type – before he reached up and tapped the tags around her neck twice. He raised two fingers to her lips, a flare of biotics ghosting around his skin. Her palm print on his face glowed, his on hers echoing equally, and Shepard's eyes widened. It was simple, his declaration that she was his, and he was hers. She didn't speak, either, before launching herself into him tighter, her lips finding his unerringly,
The kiss was bruising, but, just like the wound even deeper inside of her, this too would heal.
A month later, as he prepared to cook her dinner, rolling his eyes as he obligingly leaned over to pull some chicken eggs from the bottom shelf of the fridge, he heard a richness in her laugh he hadn't in a long while. It stirred a deep longing in his soul, stirred something hotter in his blood, and he tried and failed to suppress it. He stood, setting his beer aside carefully, and cautiously reached out a hand across the bar. She met it with only the slightest hesitation, a soft smile on her face, and he felt his heart stutter in his chest as her fingers wrapped around his wrist. There was a faded fear in her movements as he came slowly around the kitchen island and stood before her. Her breaths were sharp, a sort of apology in her eyes, and he gave her a gentle kiss.
She met it slowly, throat working as she tried to keep from crying. Kaidan pulled back and raised his hand, brushing her hair from her face, and he said quietly, "You're perfect, love." The look she gave him was simultaneously filled with adoration and trust, and he ducked down to sip at her mouth again, feeling her summer sun in his head and the warm salt of healing tears on her face.
All at once she came undone, whatever glue that had been holding her together dissolving in the face of his kindness and need. She fell against him, broke in his arms, and he caught every part of her, like he always would. Three months of terror and insecurities evaporated in the midst of their mutual desperation, each touch a balm to their shared devastation. Her agony at her worthlessness, his despair at his powerlessness…
Like the tap of small shoes on wooden stairs and hazel eyes over an impish grin, it all faded from dreams, and from memory.
Later, the tumble up the elevator was anything but quick, and it was just as passionate and perfect as he remembered. She fell asleep in his arms, and he stayed awake longer, his fingers trailing delicately over her skin. His blue fire raised patterns over her flesh, and he traced a path down to her navel, circling it lightly. He skirted her newest scars, thick and raised along her side, before he touched them for the first time. She shifted against him, a sigh ghosting over his chest, and he pressed a kiss to the deepest mark. It was a visible reminder of their ultimate sacrifice. He'd spent a month in mourning, grieving with her, but it had taken the sensation of her wrapped around him and in his soul to realize what part of him had died. He'd be lying to himself and her if he said he hadn't dreamed of what they would never have.
Her retirement and his to an orchard outside the city where the air tasted like her biotics.
Rock-a-byes at two in the morning while a tiny mouth made noises he memorized.
The flare of untested biotics in the crisp fall air making an apple float from the top of the tree to the ground.
The cries of 'higher daddy!' and fat tears over skinned knees.
The coffee in his biotics matching the steaming mug on the bedside table next to a card that said 'Happy Mother's Day' in sprawling crayon.
When he'd gone over the edge with her, his face buried in her neck, he'd cried. She had said nothing but held him tight, caught him like he caught her, her pain just as deep but tempered by more time. He had wanted, so badly, to protect something like he couldn't always protect her, to put something more into the world than a flawed implant and a deadly temper. The two of them – Spectres, biotics, soldiers of man – could give every piece of innocence they'd willingly forfeited to something that loved them unconditionally.
His pride forgave him his weakness while he finished forgiving her, a whisper of love following her into slumber. And so he laid there, drawing all the phases of the moon on her stomach and the stars on her arms. He pressed his palm to her chest, a smaller impression of it settling on her heart. Watching his smoke ease off her body and mix with the air, swelling with color before disappearing, was infinitely bittersweet.
Time and distance would separate them both from what they had lost, and would show them what they still had to gain.
Subject: Is sorry enough?
From: Shepard, CDR
Miranda,
It's been...God, 6 months? A long time to be angry. I'm not anymore. You took my rage and I should thank you for that, even though I wanted to shoot you at the time. Repeatedly. If you'd been there in person...better not to think about it. It was the betrayal, I think, that hurt the most. You were honest, for the most part, about what you and The Illusive Man went through to put me back together. You told me about two years of breaking science for me. You told me about wanting to put a control chip in my head, for fuck's sake.
Why the hell you couldn't tell me that you'd taken away every possible distraction…
I didn't yet trust you by the time we found Kaidan at Horizon, and I still wonder if you would have shot him, if you'd had the order. I would have killed you. And I think you get that now. I think you realize that that's where Cerberus went wrong with their grand plan. Because I don't ever fight for me – hell, I willingly spaced myself to save my sarcastic, incredible, crippled jackass of a pilot.
I fight for what I want, for what I love. A baby...that would've cut the length of the war in half.
But...anyway, I had a point here.
I'm not angry anymore. It took time, and tears, and a gunshot wound to the gut (healed up fine, so thanks again for the implants). It took me pushing Kaidan so far away I couldn't even see him anymore. It took a lot of things.
It took Joker dropping to a knee and giving Edi a ring that shines like a nova. It took Liara and Grunt sneaking off to the Asari Council for a blessing. It took the first kick of Garrus' child in Tali's belly, a tiny nudge against my hand that made me hurt so bad I wanted to cry. And I did, I won't lie. And then that devil kicked again, like it was telling me to soldier up.
And I realized, all at once, that there is innocence out there that I can still fight to protect. It won't ever have my eyes or his smile, but it will have whatever security I can scrape together for it.
That's what I need to thank you for. I thought, for awhile, that Cerberus – that you – had taken so much from me. But there's still so much I can give. It may not be what I wanted but maybe...maybe it'll be what I needed.
Kaidan's cooking dinner right now, same as for the last two months, and I'm starving; biotic metabolism isn't all it's always cracked up to be. But I figured I needed to write this. For you, for me, for everything I screamed at you after that doctor's appointment.
You don't think it all the time, but you're a good friend. Send me a message and we'll meet up; I've got no idea what to expect from a Turian-Quarian mating, and I'd appreciate the medical expertise.
Thank you, a million times,
Shep
~ A dark cloud is no sign that the sun has lost his light. ~