A/N: I got a little bored this week writing my Paragon FemShep story so I decided to do a one-shot with my Renegade, Ruthless, Earthborn MShep. And this is the result. Enjoy!
The bullet ripped through the man's leg like ryncol through a volus. He screamed in agony while Shepard stared down at him with a devilish grin. The bright red bloodstain on his pant leg grew as a warm liquid gushed out from the hole.
"You're...you're crazy! Fuck! YOU SHOT ME, YOU BASTARD!" yelled the man from the threshold of his apartment door. "Someone please, HELP ME! I've been shot!"
The door across the hallway slowly opened and a old lady peered through the crack. Another door, two units down, creaked as a rust-topped head popped out to locate the source of the disturbance.
"Everything's fine folks. Please remain calm and return to your homes. This is official Spectre business," said Shepard with a reassuring smile as he motioned for them to obey.
"HE'S LYING! This isn't official business. HE SHOT ME!" howled the man to a young couple as they walked by. "You, you have to believe me," he pleaded with fear in his eyes. Adrenaline coursed through his veins.
"I'm Spectre Shepard and I have the situation under control. This is a very dangerous man and I advise you all to keep your distance." The couple nodded at his words and proceeded to the elevator.
When they were out of sight, he kicked the man in the knee that he had just injected with tungsten. The man screamed as the pain shot up his leg and reverberated throughout his entire body.
"That's for calling me a liar," he snickered towering over the man on the floor. He relished the sight of his conquest broken at his feet. There were few things in the galaxy that brought him more pleasure than the feeling of complete control.
Shepard grabbed the man by the shoulder and pulled him to his feet. He forcefully led him inside the apartment as the man began to beg for mercy.
"I'm sorry! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!" he wailed. "I didn't know you were together. He said you were dead! He, he said you were just friends. PLEASE! You have to believe me!"
The man's admission sent Shepard deep into his thoughts. Flashbacks of his time in the Cerberus lab echoed off the walls of his mind. He saw Miranda's kind face as she put the pieces of him back together like a Human jigsaw puzzle.
He had long since dealt with most of the fallout from his death. His Spectre status had been restored. He was receiving regular N7 mission parameters from the Alliance Brass. He even had some of his old crew back aboard the new Normandy: Garrus, Tali, Joker, the Doctor.
But after arguing with him on Horizon, after the letter he received from him in the aftermath, after he had thrown his date with a Citadel doctor in his face, the idea of Kaidan with anyone else festered in his reanimated brain.
Thoughts of ending this doctor, the object of his affliction, consumed him. He wanted to cut him off from the rest of the living like the cancerous growth he was. It was as if he was a disease that could only be cured by bullets and blood.
He had no clue when exactly his feelings for the recently promoted Lieutenant Commander blossomed from friendship into the need for something deeper, but there it was. Gnawing at him like a word on the tip of his tongue; a word that drives you insane until it reenters your life.
He was not the kind of man that dated. Instead, he would bed anything that moved regardless of gender or sapient species. Physical release was the only thing of consequence, the only thing he needed, wanted even.
Somehow Kaidan had been the latest thing to wiggle its way inside his indiscriminate crosshairs. But something was different about these feelings. He found himself dreaming of a life together, of happiness and love. An emotion completely foreign to him. It both confused and excited him.
Jealousy ate away at him after receiving the letter. He knew nothing would quell the internal torment surging within him until he confronted the man that he perceived to be a threat to the peace he found in his soul when Kaidan was around.
After months of bottling up his frustrations, he found himself knocking on the doctor's door. It opened and a rather handsome and soft-spoken man answered from the other side. There he was, face to face with the man of his abhorrence.
He wore a white doctor's frock with white pants. White shoes completed his drab ensemble. His brown hair and brown eyes jumped out on his whitewashed skin. Dark circles underneath revealed his exhaustion from the overnight shift.
In all honesty, Shepard hadn't intended to cause him physical harm. He had planned on scaring the shit out of him, maybe threatening him, but that was about it. He was quite the renegade, although his usual targets all deserved his wrath.
"Are you Symon Sythers?" asked Shepard hoping that the obviously fit, wealthy, and attractive man standing before him was not his intended target. A flash of insecurity creeped through his mind.
"Yes, that's me. How can I help you?" he asked a little too damn politely for Shepard's taste.
"Do you know a Kaidan Alenko?" he asked hesitantly. Saying his name brought back painful memories of Horizon, of Virmire, of the SR-1.
"Yes, he's the good mate of a friend of mine. What's this about?" the man replied as he raised an eyebrow with concern.
"Did you go out with him?" he asked not wanting to beat around the bush.
"Wait, you're Commander Shepard, aren't you? He talked about you a lot. 'The one that got away,' he would say. Big mistake letting him go, buddy," he chided.
Shepard's fists balled by his side. His jaw clenched as the rage he was holding back boiled to the surface. He attempted to calm himself with deep breaths, but was unsuccessful.
"Did you or did you not, go out with him?" he asked dropping the vail over his thinly held contempt.
"Uh, yeah. A few times, actually," he confessed as a bead of sweat formed on his brow after realizing who he was talking to: an N7, a Council Spectre, the Savior of the Citadel.
It was a reflex, a habit, an unforeseen consequence of his fiery temper. The bang from the gun rang in his ears before he knew what had happened. The man slumped to the ground as he shouted for help. Shortly thereafter, he was closing the door behind them.
"You're a doctor, fix your own damn leg," ordered Shepard after plopping him down on the couch.
"You're...not gonna kill me?" he asked hoping for any hint of relief.
"No, I'm not gonna kill you. I didn't even plan on shooting you. It just...happened," he said with a sliver of apology in his tone. That was as close as the man was going to get.
"HOW DOES SOMETHING LIKE THAT JUST HAPPEN?" he yelled demanding an answer. Immediately, he wanted to take it back. He just knew the Spectre was going to shot the other knee at any moment.
"You'd be surprised," he replied sarcastically. "You have no idea the kinda stress saving the galaxy puts on a person. If my trigger slips, it's usually justified.
"And even if it's not, it's hard to question the Spectre that saved the Citadel. The hero that took down Saren AND a Reaper," he explained casually. A coolness radiated from his words.
"How was THIS justified?" he asked pointing to his bloody leg. He couldn't tell if Shepard was bragging or threatening him.
"When a Spectre asks you a fucking question, you answer it promptly and without hesitation. I asked a simple yes or no question and you were about to give me your whole boring ass life story...Well, sorry pal, I don't have that kind of time!" he said as a level of annoyance started to set in.
"I did answer you're questions! THEN YOU SHOT ME!"
"For future reference, let me sum this up. When you're face to face with a Spectre, you answer their questions directly and only speak when spoken to. That advice will go along way," he lectured. "And most important of all...DON'T. PISS. THEM. OFF!
"Now. What's done is done. You can sit there and cry about it like a whiney pyjak or you can suck it up like a man," said Shepard without sympathy. "You know how many times I've been shot?" he asked not expecting an answer. "Hell, I was dead once!"
Just then, there was a knock on the door. Shepard motioned for him to remain seated as he walked towards it. He looked back at the man on the couch and lifted his index finger to his lips. Draconian eyes conveyed the message that he should not be disobeyed.
"I'm officer Reynolds with C-Sec. We have complaints of a possible shooting," said the officer apprehensively looking down at the blood smear on the door. He instinctively reached for his gun.
"I'm Commander Shepard and I have the situation under control," he assured the man at the door.
"Oh Spectre Shepard! I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. How embarrassing! I don't want to get in your way. I won't take up any more of your time...But, uh, can I get a quick autograph?" asked the starstruck officer.
"Sure, no problem. Anything for the Citadel's finest," Shepard replied with a carefree smile betraying the heated emotions he hid inside of him.
After a few holos, the officer turned to leave. "Have a pleasant day!" he said over his shoulder as he made his way towards the elevator. He pushed the call button and mumbled into his comms, "Yeah, it was just Commander Shepard...Of course I got pictures!"
Inside, the doctor had made his way to the bathroom. He hobbled back in with some medi-gel packs and other miscellaneous medical supplies. He cut off his blood drenched pant leg and began to tend to his wound.
His apartment was just as dull as his outfit. White walls added brightness, but the tacky decor detracted from it. A zebra stripped throw rug hurt his eyes when he examined the room. He was thankful that military life had spared him the tediousness of ever having to pick out furniture.
Shepard sat down on the wooden coffee table directly in front of the man. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. He wrung his hands as his eyes of azure pierced the air between them. He took a few minutes to study the mess of a man sitting before him.
"Did you fuck him?" he asked smoothly out of the silence.
The question made the man uneasy. His leg was beginning to throb and Shepard's delivery sent chills down his spine. He cleared his throat and sucked in a deep breath.
"No, no. We just had drinks a few times. That was it."
"You're lucky I believe you," he said as he straightened his back. "Well, I'm glad we could have this talk. I'll, uh, let myself out," he added nonchalantly.
"Can you at least take me to the hospital? I'm gonna need surgery," the man moaned.
Shepard rolled his eyes. "Fine, but only under two conditions." The man nodded in compliance knowing he had no choice in the matter. What chance did he stand against a Spectre? And the most well-known one at that?
"First, you never mention this to anyone. Not Kaidan, not your friends, not your doctor, and not your priest. Understand?" The man nodded again not daring to piss him off further.
"Second, you never, EVER have any contact with Kaidan again! If you see him on the street, you hightail it in the other direction. If a mutual friend invites you to a party he's going to, you decline." His eyes tightened as he spoke.
"That won't be a problem," he assured Shepard as he wrapped his leg in gauze. He would've agreed to anything at this point; his head was starting to spin from the pain and blood loss. "He didn't really like me anyway. He was still hung up on you. Probably still is."
Shepard resisted a smile as he stood there with an emotionless expression. He helped the man to his feet, and they made their way to his parked skycar. He gave Shepard access to the car's codes as they climbed inside.
"For the record, I wasn't planning on shooting you. I usually reserve my fury for murderers, enemies of the Council, and people who try to kill me. Oh, and uh, Reapers of course."
"Do you mind if we never speak again?" asked the man. His pain was beginning to make him delirious, but he sounded completely certain of his request.
Shepard made a grumpy face and shouted, "Fine by me!"
"Thanks," he said quietly.
Shepard jerked the car to the right and grinned with a sense of accomplishment as the man winced when his leg hit the center console. Pain shot into his bone.
"DAMMIT, watch it!" he exclaimed.
"There...was a car," said Shepard with a gentle facade of sincerity.
He pulled the skycar up to the hospital receiving bay as an attendant came out to greet them. She called for some assistance and helped him out of the car.
"Oh my! What happened?" she asked with worry.
Shepard leered at the man who was being lowered onto a wheelchair. His eyes once again conveyed the message for him to keep his mouth shut. The man complied.
"I, uh, had an accident. I was cleaning my gun. You, you know how that goes," he stammered. He was beginning to feel weak as his endorphins began to give out on him.
Shepard nodded in approval before driving away. He parked the car in the hospital lot, and just to piss the guy off, he hacked its codes and put it on lockdown. It would take the man weeks before he would be able to drive it again.
"He was right about one thing," Shepard said to himself with evil delight as he began his trek back to the Normandy. "I am a crazy bastard!"