She never thought she was pretty.

There was always a problem with her face, and while she never pondered it in length, every time she passed a mirror she would notice something. A blemish, a smudge in her make-up, a scrape in an unflattering place, and of course, until recently, the scar she had on her eyebrow. After she had woken up, she had sometimes been frightened by the glowing red of her own face when she would stumble into her dark bathroom some mornings, and this shock did not help her along the road to believe she was, in fact, a beautiful woman.

She gave little attention to her appearance, but when she did, she scrutinized her features. She had big, bright green eyes her mother always said looked like the grass in their front lawn. Her hair was bright red, and while she heard whispers of hypothesized dye bottles, it was natural. She had inherited it from her grandmother. Of course, disregarding the striking colors, she still thought herself homely. She had big lips, which protruded from her face in such a way she thought she always looked like she was waiting for a kiss, even when completely relaxed. Her nose was not notable, her cheeks were average, and her skin was almost as pale as ivory.

Everyone thought she was beautiful, but she always saw herself as the awkward teenage girl from the colonies, sitting awkwardly in church in a cotton dress with dirt under her fingernails, who the preacher's son with all his zits and obsession with soil erosion wouldn't even think about fucking.

Today though, she moved around her cabin, in hose and a black dress. She couldn't remember where she had purchased the dress, but never recalled trying it on. It fit snuggly against her and her curves, and she liked it enough. She looked in the mirror as she bent over to pull on a high heel. Her hair was annoying when it was this short. She cursed herself for cutting it at her chin and wished she could grow it out that very moment. She wanted longer, flowy hair like Miranda had. But what did she have? Cropped red hair everyone thought was fake that made her look like a third grade teacher.

She looked back to the mirror and sighed. She looked okay to her. To the on lookers that night, they would say she was stunning, but that thought never crossed her mind. She went to her desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a small box. She opened it gingerly and took out the two gold stud that had been on her ears the day she had run for her life, trying to escape the slavers that had ruined her life. She clicked her tongue, pushing away the memory and looking the mirror once again.

It had been someones idea to go to a club. She couldn't remember whose. She just knew everyone was going to go, minus a few. Thane, Legion, and Mordin had all opted to stay behind. She just knew that she couldn't dance, and that she was relying on a few crew members to keep her from getting shit face drunk and going home with some stranger.

Or anyone she thought.

The thought of sex entered her mind for the nth time that evening. She breathed in slowly and tried not to look at the picture on her desk of the last person she had engaged in that activity with. Something she had not told anyone, not even the subject of the holo that she was avoiding eye contact with, is that she was not exactly a fox. In her life of 32 years, she had only had sex with three people. The first was a marine she met when she was nineteen. His name was Hans, and he was from Germany and had a heavy accent and couldn't speak English that well, but always gave her chocolate and told her how pretty she was. Eventually she began to fall for him and met him in one of the closets on the first ship she served on. They continued to see eachother for a year after that, but that was before Akuze, and the second person came into the picture. Hans died on the first day, and Shepard never got to see his body again. She stayed with her regiment, and was placed in charge when the commanding officer was devoured. She led the wounded to the tree covered area, but was descended upon again and again. By the end of the week, it was her and a marine name Finn. Finn was about 18, but carried all his weight in his muscles. He was broken, scared, and sure he wasn't going to live. When Shepard tried to calm him, he pounced on her, yelling about his mother and his father, his little sisters and how he wasn't about to die a virgin. She struggled to get out but he was too strong, and he got her armor off in little time. She broke free to run but he smashed her head against the ground and a rock hidden by the soil. When she woke up, he was already on top of her. She pushed him away and began to run, dragging her armor behind, when she heard a scream, and turned back to see his eyes look down at the piercing spike that just entered his chest, and she was found a week later. The only people that knew about the rape was the savoir ship's doctor and the higher ups like Anderson.

Then, of course, there was Kaidan. She finally turned back to see his picture. There he was, looking back at her. If he knew how his picture was betraying him, he'd scan the whole web looking for a way to delete it, but for now, this piece was hers. She always thought it was funny how their names had rhymed, and the few people who knew about them would comment on it. She hadn't picked the name Aiden, her mother did, but she did admit it was cute to have a sort of boyfriend who's name she could rhyme her own with, not that it mattered any more.

EDI popped up near the door.

"The crew is requesting your presence downstairs, Shepard. They seem ready to leave the ship."

The Commander stood straight up and turned to EDI.

"Tell them I'll be down in five,"

Yes I really named my Shepard Aiden. No I didn't plan it.

Chapter 2 up soon if I get some love.