You're on shore leave outside Vancouver when you get the call.
It's not like you to spend your free time on Earth - it makes you feel weird, off-balance. You joke with your crew that it's because you're allergic to any gravity that isn't artificial, and that prolonged time without inertial dampers makes you sick. Easier to make a joke of it than try and figure out why you take every opportunity you can to get off your homeworld, the world you swore to protect with your life a decade ago.
You didn't have a choice this time. Alex is groundside, and you haven't seen him in years. Not since...well. Not for a long time.
He hasn't changed. Not really. He's older, darker, rougher around the edges and sporting a longer haircut, but he's got the same smile, the same dark eyes, the same big laugh. You remember those eyes watching you worriedly as you recovered after Akuze. He'd been on the Citadel with his team, and was able to stop by. Talking with him was probably the only thing that kept you together.
A pang of guilt washes through you as you watch him now, sitting in his chair with a beer in hand, skis stuck haphazardly in the deep snow next to him. Maybe things would be different if you'd been there after Torfan.
"Stop thinking so hard, Shep," he says when he catches you staring. "You'll hurt yourself."
You shift your own beer between your hands and grin. "Pretty rich coming from you."
His laugh is deep and sincere, and your smile widens. You missed this - relaxing, catching up with an old friend. Letting your guard down and just being yourself. It's not something you let yourself do often. It's not something you can afford to do.
"So, you gonna stay dirtside with me?" he asks, leaning back in his chair and running a gloved hand through his dark hair. He gestures out at the view from your spot outside his cabin with his bottle, to the snow-covered mountains, gleaming almost painfully white in the bright sun. Off to your side, the main slopes are dotted with people, but Alex's hill is empty. "It's no ship, and it sure as hell ain't the Citadel, but I'll be damned if it's not the prettiest place on Earth."
You nod. "It's beautiful here." You haven't been to many places on Earth - and you definitely hadn't ever gone skiing before this week - but you can't help but agree with him. You can understand why he moved out here, after everything.
He watches you for a moment, then shakes his head and takes a drink. "Beautiful, but still not enough to get you to move in with me." You snort and whack his shoulder, and he shies away with a grin. "I know, I know. Ship bound 'til the day you die, or until you finally find a good enough lay to make you settle down."
"Fuck off, Roessler," you don't even try to hide your smile as you sock him in the arm again.
"So...until the day you die."
You roll your eyes and lift your beer toward him before downing the rest. He laughs and follows your lead before tossing his empty bottle into the snowdrift next to the trash.
That's when your omni tools starts beeping, vibrating warm against your skin underneath your gear. You flex to bring up the HI, and frown at the name of the caller.
Alex turns from where he was rummaging through the cooler, fishing out another drink. "Duty calls?"
"Apparently," you mutter before tapping a button to answer. "This is Lieutenant Commander Shepard."
"Shepard," the familiar voice says, "Captain Anderson. Sorry to interrupt your shore leave."
"It's alright, Captain." Business is business, and it's not like you'd ever ignore a call from him. "What can I do for you?"
"I have a proposition to run by you."
"What is it, sir?"
"I'd like you to be my XO."
Your eyes fly open in surprise. Alex looks equally shocked, frozen in place on his way back to his chair. You're taken completely off guard, and you fumble a moment for the right response.
Anderson saves you from having to try. "I've been assigned to a newly-commissioned prototype ship, and given leave to choose my own crew. Given your experience, I can think of no one I'd rather have at my side."
Your mind flies into overdrive, trying to wrap your head around his offer. You've been XO of the SSV Jakarta for two years. Though you've been leading ground teams for years, this was your first time in a naval leadership position. You've done well, but you're shocked that you made it onto Anderson's radar.
When you look back to your friend, he's grinning and cracking open his beer. Fuck yeah, he mouths, and you feel a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.
"I'd be honored, sir."
Alex insists on a celebration, even though you'd be perfectly fine staying indoors shooting the shit by his fireplace like you have been most nights during your stay. You have a suspicion that this isn't really for you, though, as you follow your friend into the club.
It was always his dream to command a ship.
The bass thrums through your body, vibrating in your bones and in the hollow of your stomach. Alex grabs two shots from a tray carried by a scantily-clad worker, and offers you one. "Bottoms up, Commander, you're gonna need it!"
You decide to let slide his emphasis on your rank and click your glass to his before tipping it down your throat. The whiskey burns a path to your stomach and you shake your head to get rid of the feeling. Alex whoops and claps you on the back, leading you in the direction of a poker table by the bar.
"Skyllian Five? Really, Alex?"
He shrugs, tapping the bar on his way past and showing two fingers to the bartender. "Figure you're probably getting a raise, being on a special assignment and all. I'll be damned if I don't take advantage of that."
You raise an eyebrow at him. "Since when have you ever beaten me at poker?"
A pair of mixed drinks slide onto the counter, and Alex hands you one with a shrug and a wry grin. "No time like the present."
An hour and too many drinks later, you've cleaned house, and no one else bothers sitting down to play. Alex throws up his arms to the crowd around the bar, none of whom pay him any attention. "What, no takers?"
You stack up your chips in the rack at your side, transferring the credits to your tool. "These guys know when to quit. Unlike you," you look pointedly at his lack of chips. He's out at least 200 credits, not counting the tab he's been steadily racking up, but he doesn't seem to mind. He just gives you a silly, drunk grin that makes you laugh.
"C'mon, Roessler," you stand and haul him up by his sleeve, "let's get out of here."
He pulls away. "No way," he slurs a bit. "Not 'til you dance with me."
You freeze. "No, I don't think so…" Your protests are lost in the heavy bass as he drags you out onto the floor.
You're a shitty dancer. He knows it. Everyone knows it. You just kind of move your feet around and hope you don't look like an idiot. It's a testament to your friendship (and how much you've had to drink) that you don't just storm off to a more comfortable spot at the bar, and that you move half-heartedly in time with the music while Alex dances enthusiastically in front of you. It's funny to watch. He's usually so serious, especially since the Blitz; it's good to see him relaxed.
Your mood falters a bit when you realize he could probably say the same thing about you.
"Hey, you," a low voice says in your ear, catching you off guard.
The woman brushes her hand over your shoulder and moves in front of you, grinning playfully as she sways her hips to the beat. You have to remind yourself to loosen up, to keep dancing. "Haven't seen you here before."
Alex whistles loudly around his fingers and makes a crude gesture from where he stands behind the girl. You try and shoot him a dirty look without her noticing. You see his shoulders shaking with laughter after he turns to head back to the bar. Traitor.
"I'm not from around here," you say as she continues to move in time with you. She doesn't seem to mind your dancing skills (or lack thereof), and you definitely don't mind hers. She's much more fluid with her body than you could ever hope to be. You're made for moving through a combat zone, not for moving in a club.
Of course, you wouldn't have it any other way.
"Let me guess," she fingers the edge of your blazer curiously, dark eyes sizing you up. By the approving gleam in her eyes, she likes whatever it is she sees. "Last night out before you head back to the big city?"
A corner of your mouth curls up in amusement. "Something like that." Her body brushes against yours, lightly enough to pass off as an accident. You know it wasn't. Suddenly the dance floor feels ten degrees hotter. She's watching you with a raised eyebrow as she dances, waiting for your move. It's a game, all strategy - back and forth, move for move, sizing each other up and responding in kind. You're good at games. This is no exception.
You slide one hand to her waist, pulling her closer. Her approving laugh is almost lost in the music, but her smile isn't, and neither are the arms that wrap around your neck, pressing her body against yours in all the right places.
You think vaguely that maybe going out to the club wasn't such a bad idea after all.
Going out was the shittiest idea ever.
You're so hung over you can barely see, and you have no idea where you put your damn shoes. Your train back into the city leaves in a half hour and here you are, half-drunk and half-dressed, fumbling around Alex's apartment trying to find your things.
You tried to wake him up by buzzing his omni-tool, but he didn't move. You started throwing shit at him a few minutes ago, and that worked much better. He's in the kitchen, trying to fry up some eggs for breakfast. You peek in as you walk by - he pulled up a chair in front of the stove and is sitting in it backwards, head resting on the back of it as he pokes at the eggs with a spatula.
There - you spot your lost boot where it's stuck under the couch. You sit down gingerly and pull it on, tucking your cargos in carefully and lacing it up tight. You might feel like you got your head stuck in a meat grinder, but you've had worse nights, and you'll be damned if you don't look good for your meetings with the brass later.
The eggs are just as awful as you expected they would be, but the combination of the food and the painkillers you take from the bottle Alex left out in the bathroom makes you feel a bit more human. Human enough to get both of you in his speeder and out to the transit station at the base of the mountain.
You've never been good with goodbyes. They're awkward, and they don't sit well with you afterwards. You've said too many that ended up being final.
As you sling your bag over your shoulder and turn toward your friend, you realize this isn't easy for him, either. It's been a great week, you both picked up just where you left off, but there were signs everywhere - Alex is lonely.
It's not surprising, all things considered. He's infamous within the Alliance, now, the incident on Torfan alienating him from all but his closest friends. He's lucky he got an honorable discharge and not a CAT-6, but you can't say it made any difference to his reputation. By living out here, he's isolated himself further. He didn't say anything about it to you, and you would never ask, but you know you're the first company he's had in a long time.
That makes it harder to leave him behind.
You try and keep your smile light, and hope it doesn't look forced. "Keep my gear in good shape for me, will you? I'll be coming back to use it next winter."
He scoffs, brushing the scruff on his chin with his hand. "Use it? More like ruin it. You almost broke a set of 'unbreakable' rails, Shep."
You shrug innocently. "Not my fault, that's just bad marketing."
His smile finally reaches his eyes. "No, just bad skiing. That tree's never going to be the same again."
You both laugh, and the voice overhead announces last call for your train. You wince, and not just because of your headache. "I should go."
Alex's smile drops, and his dark eyes search yours. You wonder what he's looking for. "Take care of yourself out there, okay?"
You nod. "I always do."
His eyes don't break from yours. "No you don't, Jen." You stand a bit straighter at the use of your first name. "You're a hell of a marine, and this is a big deal. Commanding a ship alongside Captain Anderson…" he waves out his arm for emphasis, "...it's the opportunity of a lifetime."
A lump rises in your throat and you try and swallow it away. You both know it could have been his opportunity, in another life. The thought hangs heavy in the air as you close the distance and give him a hug. He's a head taller than you, and you're surrounded by his warmth and familiar musky smell as his arms tighten around you.
"I'll miss you, Alex." You didn't intend to say it aloud, but you're glad you did. It's the truth. You feel like he should know.
He pulls away, and rubs at the back of his neck. "You know how to reach me, and I'll be right here if you're ever groundside again." His voice is husky and tight. You smile and nod, giving him one last pat on the arm before leaving the terminal.
Your first few days on base are a flurry of activity, getting all of your paperwork squared away and dealing with the logistics of your reassignment. You sign off the Jakarta to your successor, a transfer in from the SSV Leipzig. He's a good officer with a good head, and he's worked with your old CO in the past. Even so, it still gives you a pang of sadness to leave your crew behind.
You get to meet a few of your new crewmembers before you head out to Arcturus station, where the ship's finishing up its test flights. You're pleased to find them all extremely competent and easygoing. It'll make your job much easier, and much more enjoyable. You end up spending a lot of time with Lieutenant Alenko, the marine detail commander. As XO you'll be working with him a lot, and you're relieved that you get along so well. He's quiet and a bit stiff - you bet they loved him at OCS - but he's a nice guy with an impressive record. You hit it off similarly with the CMO, Dr. Chakwas, after finding out that she served on the SSV Hastings at the same time as both your Uncle Robert and Captain Anderson.
By the time you get to Arcturus Station, you've finished your homework, and your head is swimming with new faces and names. It's a lot of work, getting to know a whole new crew, but you've always preferred to hit the ground running.
The Station always makes you feel a bit bittersweet. It was your home for most of your childhood, and again for a few stretches of your own career. It feels more like a home than anywhere on Earth, at least. You vaguely wonder if your mother is around. Last you heard, the Kilimanjaro was posted somewhere out in the Verge, but that was months ago. You make a mental note to call her sometime to tell her about your assignment.
Your mind continues to wander as you make your way through the familiar halls down to one of the conference rooms. Your first official command meeting is in twenty minutes, and all of the ship's officers will be present. That includes both Alenko and Dr. Chakwas, as well as several other people you haven't seen in person - the ship's navigator, pilot, Chief of Engineering, and Captain Anderson himself.
You've met Anderson before, of course. You remember to this day the first time you ever laid eyes on him. You were sixteen, and he'd just been made CO of your mother's ship. He was standing outside your classroom here on the Station, and tapped your shoulder on the way out. He asked to walk back to the company's wing with you, and he asked you all about your life. At first you were sure your mother had put him up to it, to get him to talk you into the Academy, but it soon became obvious she hadn't - he told you about his own enlistment, and how he'd never regretted a second of it. He was the first adult you told about your dream of joining the special forces and reaching N7. You were worried he'd laugh, but he looked you in the eye and told you to go for it. He gave you a smile and a salute when you got back to the barracks. Later, when you shipped off for basic, he told you he expected an invite to your graduation from ICA.
Five years ago, you made good on that promise. He sat in the front row.
When you hit the switch and enter the conference room, you're not surprised he's already there. You snap to a salute, trying not to let your grin show.
"Good morning, Captain."
"At ease, Commander," he waves you down hastily as he walks over to shake your hand. "Glad you made it out here, it's good to see you again. How have you been?"
"Just fine, sir," you answer honestly. "I've been staying busy."
"You put that cruiser through more missions in two years than it had run the last five combined, I'd say 'busy' is an understatement."
You shrug off his joke with a smile. "No use letting good men get lazy, sir."
He chuckles. "That's the spirit. I have a feeling you're going to love this ship, Shepard."
It doesn't take much longer for the rest of the crew members to arrive. You introduce yourself right away to Lieutenant Adams and Navigator Pressly. Adams served aboard the Tokyo with your mother and Anderson after you left home - he asks after her, and you have to shrug it off with a tin-can response to hide the fact that you don't know. That aside, he's a nice man, and gives you a good impression.
One person's arrival catches you off guard. The door opens to admit a small man with twin braces on each leg and crutches that wrap up his forearms. You hide your frown - he has the clearance to scan in, he's obviously allowed to be here - but you watch him as he moves straight to his seat at the table instead of standing to make introductions like everyone else. Your brow furrows further when you note the insignia on his sleeve. You excuse yourself from your conversation with Alenko and take a seat next to him.
"I don't recognize you, Ace," you say as he unhooks the crutches from his arms, nodding to the pins on his ribbon rack. "You aren't the pilot I was expecting."
He doesn't look up from his work. "It's Joker, ma'am. I'm not the pilot anyone was expecting."
When he doesn't give more of an answer, you sit back and wait. You try again when he's set the crutches aside. "Mind telling me why that is?"
This time, he meets your eyes. "Because the Captain finally realized that I'm the best damn pilot in the Alliance, and no one else is worthy of flying this ship."
Your eyebrows rise at his candid response. "I see." There's a challenge in his eyes, like he's waiting for you to tell him he's wrong. You know better - he must be something else for Anderson to make such a last-minute switch. Eventually, you offer your hand. "I'm Commander Shepard."
He takes it and nods. "Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau."
The meeting goes smoothly. Anderson runs you all through the ship's specs, and you finally understand why nothing about it was put into the documents you received back in Vancouver. The ship is revolutionary. You haven't seen anything even remotely like it before - because there is nothing like it. You're having a hard time believing that the Turian Hierarchy and the Alliance got along for long enough to even talk about ships, never mind collaborating to build one, but you're glad they did.
Anderson wraps up after answering everyone's questions. "I want all of you to report to dock J3 tomorrow at 0600 for a walk through of the ship. The rest of the crew will join us later in the day for some safety debriefs and a mock test flight. Clear?" The six of you all nod.
"Good. Welcome to the crew of the SSV Normandy."
A/N:This story is the first of three, covering more or less each game in the series. It's the product of my first NaNo effort this year. I didn't reach 50K - real life got in the way - but I got a good start! Feel free to leave questions/comments here or at my tumblr (skyllian-five). Thanks for reading.