A Very Bad Idea

Prologue

[Overnight Shift - 10 Hours From Ilos]

Dammit, Shepard, get your head on straight, I thought to myself. I sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on my thighs, I ran my hands through my hair, head hanging down. "Fuck!". Aloud. Yeah, that helped, I thought. Adventure and reason were battling it out in my head. The battle constantly shifting, reason would triumph, only to have adventure come in with a sucker punch.

This is a bad idea. Reason crowed. Yeah, it is isn't it, adventure smirked. Adventure pressed the moment, you know it's what you want. You usually get what you want, … and … it may be your last chance. Adventure was going full out. That's true, I thought, it might be my last chance. Oh, adventure was dancing now.

Wait!, shouted reason. There's another choice, you know. We know, but we don't want that do we?, adventure purred. It would be good, and you know it, reason countered. But we don't want good, do we?, adventure had reason in a choke hold now. You know what you want, do it, adventure circling for the kill.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I started pacing now. Adventure had a point, it was what I wanted. And, truth be told, I did want. Oh, very want. Badly. It won't work, one last gasp from reason. If it couldn't work, we wouldn't be even talking about this, as adventure called the coroner.

Adventure was right, I did want it. Had wanted it for weeks now. It's not like I thought about it all the time, just the down moments. The quiet moments. And, yes, the moments in the shower. Only the ending was different in those moments. Not that different, adventure sidling up like a confidante.

I pressed my head against the cold bulkhead, hoping that would help. You honestly think that'll work, asked adventure. Weeks of cold shower's haven't, adventure continued. True, I thought. Hadn't done a damn thing.

I went over to my footlocker and grabbed a bottle, and took a swig. Noooooo, cried reason. Adventure was in full rocky mode now.

I never, ever, thought I'd be thinking about THIS. It was his fault, obviously. He had pushed every one of my buttons. Hadn't meant to. Didn't mean to. But he had. Every-Single-Button. He still didn't know. Why would he, I just laughed it off at the time. Sort of.

"Fuck it." I grabbed my pack. And headed downstairs...

The memorial service for reason is scheduled for Tuesday.

A/N: Thanks for reading so far. This is my second FF. Finishing this one up now.

Hopefully, it's OK. Please R&R. Thanks again.