Less Than Three, a mass effect fanfic

Less Than Three

Saren chose his base wisely, she decides; Virmire is hell, idyllic beaches and all. It's a miracle they didn't lose more than they did, a fact she doesn't assume lightly.

The cargo bay is a mess. She moves through the aftermath, a chaotic mass of bodies, salarian and human, injured and whole, navigators and marines, struggling to sort itself out. She notices Kaidan to one side as he's unclipping his helmet, and her breath hitches, involuntarily; his expression twists as he sees her, and the helmet hits the floor with an unnecessary amount of force behind it. She meets him a third of the way, and even so isn't prepared for the bone-crushing embrace he pulls her into. He doesn't completely let go as her heels hit the deck; one hand catches her elbow, the other slides up her shoulder and comes to rest under her chin as he studies her. There's a tension in his face that wasn't there the night before, when Saren was a shadow on the horizon, and a terror in his eyes. Before she can unravel it, he presses a gentle, uneasy kiss against her lips – mostly a question, almost a statement – and, as he studies her reaction, she no longer has to.

It's a terrible, bad idea. Maybe because her adrenaline hasn't dry; maybe because today they could have easily been cut down, but for the grace of God; maybe because it's a terrible, bad idea, and she has only ever had his back, she pulls him down for more.

Maybe, she thinks as he wraps himself around her, because he's serious, and maybe because she likes it.

Everyone on deck is watching. Shepard catches herself staring along with the rest of them. She's never been good with being blindsided, least of all by things she ought to have noticed all along. Her fingers mechanically finish applying the medigel to Fredricks' side, and she hauls him to his feet.

"Alenko." As she speaks, she speaks to his shoulder – she doesn't want to see his face, doesn't want to hear whatever he would say. "Whenever you're finished pissing your career away, I'm sure Chakwas could use a hand with the wounded."

She turns away as quickly as she can manage, bearing the unwieldy weight of an injured marine in medium-grade armor and a deep, twisting pain as something within her dies.

Not quickly enough. For the briefest of moments, she meets Williams' wide-eyed gaze, catches the flinch in her NCO's expression. After that, she keeps her eyes on the floor. On the other side of the cargo bay, someone sneezes, and the sound echoes through dead silence.

There is a part of her that insists she should be happy for them, but all she feels is the raw, gaping hole where her heart used to be. As the elevator gate closes behind her, Shepard lifts her gaze to the ceiling and sighs. "Quit staring at me, kid."

Working Title: PostVirmire

Inspiration: So I apparently love OT3's, but I have a severely hard time getting them to work. This would be frustration in fic-form.

Noteworthy: Yes.

Disambiguation: Considers the unused 'Nobody Gets Left Behind' Virmire Scenario as canon.

Published: April 13, 2012, on Tumblr.