The Presence of a Ghost
For a woman who spent the last two years being a corpse, she was surprisingly healthy.
Miranda and Jacob were satisfied that her cognitive functions seemed intact, and there wasn't anything wrong with her physically either. Her implants did their job, and the cybernetic scars crisscrossing her body were superficial and would supposedly fade in time. Yet Shepard couldn't shake the feeling that something about her—something abstract and fundamental—was broken.
Perhaps it was the fact that she'd died, but somehow lived again because of Cerberus. Although she wasn't by any means religious, she found it unsettling that she couldn't remember anything about being dead. No afterlife; more like a protracted dreamless sleep. She supposed it could be disorientation too. She'd gone from suffocating in space to waking up on a lab table in a matter of seconds, or so it felt. The rest of the galaxy had moved on without her in the interim, her old crew scattered and divided, the Reaper threat still ignored. Unfamiliar faces filled her new crew except for Joker and Dr. Chakwas, and whether those two knew it or not, their presence on board did a lot to help anchor her.
Wandering the Citadel, however, Shepard could almost forget she had lost two years of her life. The place hadn't changed much; some new security measures here and there—that was all. Once again, the Council had refused to do anything other than renew her Spectre status as a token gesture, though she grinned to herself as she recalled Udina's stupefied reaction to seeing her. It had spiced up an otherwise unproductive visit, and she'd taken perverse pleasure in telling him just how high he ranked on her blacklist.
She wished her talk afterward with Anderson had gone nearly as well. He wouldn't tell her where Kaidan was. He'd been given a special mission, but Anderson had refused to say more because of her association with Cerberus. Shepard had left his office bitterly disappointed; for the first time since she'd known him, even though she understood his reasons, her old mentor had let her down.
She wanted so badly to find Kaidan that it struck her as a profound ache in her chest. What little info she had on him was unsatisfactory and didn't answer the most basic questions. What happened to him immediately after the SR1's destruction? How was he doing now? Neither of them had let anyone get close to them before the other came along, so she knew her death would have devastated him. They'd been apart from each other for too long, but surely everything would be okay once she found him and explained things.
She'd drafted several e-mails, all of them unsent. Every attempt to write out what she went through sounded too dry and impersonal, and what proof would Kaidan have that any message she sent was really from her, anyway? He needed to see her in person. Hear her. Feel her. Then he would know for sure that she was real. She wouldn't be content until she could hold him too.
Unfortunately, her mission came first.
She had recruited a thief named Kasumi and run all the errands she could on the Citadel. She wasn't ready to return to the Normandy, though. She'd never been to Zakera Ward before and took the opportunity to explore for a bit, glad that she'd insisted on going out alone. Miranda had wanted her to take a team—with herself as one of the members, naturally—but Shepard had shut her down with a glare and a few choice words. It was the first chance she had to get away from prying Cerberus eyes, and damn if she was going to let Miranda ruin it for her.
Shepard ascended the stairs of one building, stopping by each floor to check out the shops for any merchandise that could be of use for her mission. Most of it was too overpriced or impractical for her liking, and the topmost floor didn't offer anything except for the Dark Star Lounge, a nightclub similar to Flux. As much as she could use one, she didn't go in for a drink. She started to go back the way she came when she caught sight of a dark-haired man standing outside the entrance. He was facing away from her, but she recognized him.
She ground to a halt.
Kaidan was here on the Citadel. Anderson had known—but it didn't matter. He was right here before her eyes, looking as handsome as ever in a black leather jacket over a navy shirt and dark pants. Dark colours always suited him best, she thought. Hope and joy welled up inside her until she couldn't contain herself anymore. She didn't hesitate, didn't stop to wonder why he was there. Smiling, she began to run over to him, her lips parting to call out to him.
He turned suddenly. Shepard stopped, thinking he'd seen her, but he was actually turning toward a woman in a green party dress approaching him from the passenger drop-off point for cabs. The woman raised her arm above her head to wave at him, and Kaidan's expression brightened as he walked over to meet her. Although Shepard couldn't hear what they were saying, a rotten feeling coiled in her gut and settled there, refusing to budge.
She shouldn't jump to conclusions. She could be a colleague or a friend…
The woman hooked her arms around his elbow and leaned her head on his shoulder, and Kaidan smiled down at her.
The meaning of the interaction wasn't lost on Shepard, and as she watched them walk arm in arm to the nightclub, she thought she might have forgotten how to breathe. She felt an odd sensation in her chest, dull and pulsating at first, before it exploded into a searing pain, as if her heart was being ripped in two. She choked, the intensity of the pain bowling her over. Then, it truly hit her.
Two years she'd been gone. Two years everything had changed.
From the second she woke up in that Cerberus facility, she'd clung to Kaidan like a familiar marker in a landscape that had shifted beyond recognition. But he, too, had shifted. He'd moved on without her. Deep down, she must have known all along that it was a possibility. She just couldn't admit it to herself until undeniable proof stared her in the face, taunting her.
The mystery woman was Eurasian like her, but the similarities ended there. Shepard was tall, with blue eyes and dark brown hair cut to chin-length. The other woman was petite, with green eyes and long black hair that tumbled over her shoulders in lustrous waves, soft and gorgeous in a way that Shepard, muscled and worn from years of military service, could never be. Hardly the adventurous type Kaidan had once told her he preferred—
Shepard slammed the brakes on those thoughts, stunned by her violent feelings of hatred and jealousy. What right did she have to tear down a stranger for taking her place—a place that was technically vacant the moment she died? What right did she have to expect Kaidan to stay alone for the rest of his life? Self-disgust mingled with the other toxic emotions raging inside her.
She couldn't waltz back into his life like they could pick up where they left off. He'd found another woman to be with, and Shepard's presence would complicate things. Thank god she learned of it before blundering in and ruining everything for him. Thank god. Their time together was a memory for him. In time it would have to be for her too.
She ripped her gaze away from Kaidan's retreating back, swallowed the acid in her throat, and did the one thing she hadn't done when facing Benezia, the Thorian, or Sovereign.
She ran.
Fitting that her Spectre status should be one of the few things to carry over from her past. It was all she had left, and all she was now—a Spectre, in more ways than one. Cerberus had given her this second half-life to stop the Collectors, nothing more. But, as she stumbled blindly through Normandy's airlock and ground out orders to Joker to set course immediately for Omega, she knew she would always love Kaidan. Even if he didn't belong to her anymore, maybe someday, if she lived long enough, she would find it in herself to be happy for him.