In Ruins

01. Patience

A/N: Rating is currently T, but may change to M in later chapters. This story will feature a male-male romance in later chapters. If you are unable to stomach classy romances of that kind, this story might not be to your liking. Before you close the tab if you didn't like the story/chapter/whatever, please drop me a PM or a review letting me know what I could do to improve.

Disclaimer: Mass Effect and its characters belong to BioWare. I only take claims for my OC, Callum.

A tiresome look plastered itself on the young man's face as he raised a hand to rub his temples in an effort to sooth the frustration he felt building up. Orange light bounced off his primp clothes as his omnitool flashed on. Darting over the interface, he pulled up his inbox and looked at the timestamp. He groaned slightly as he realized he had been waiting forty-one minutes since receiving the message.

His eyes wandered away from the table he had been staring at since he took a seat beside it. From what he gathered through listening, he was in one of the Presidium's preferred lounge. He didn't much care for what its name may have been mostly due to the fact he doubted he would return here afterwards. It was too… still, too monotonous, too predictable. Politicians mingled about talking about how to manage their credits well or some ploy they had to go over.

He tapped his fingers along the surface of the table as he leaned back into his seat. He stared past the crowd of people to the outside scenery. There was nothing wrong with the Presidium, no, but it just seemed too perfect. The lake was a beautiful shade of blue with fountains lining several parts, each seemingly equidistant from another. Trees and foliage seemed to line all the buildings from what he could tell. Hell, even the sky seemed perfect, but what else could be expected from an artificial sky? Sure, it was pretty and all, but it was sending wrong signals to his body. He was tired and all this light was trying to tell him to wake up.

Bringing up his omnitool again, he found himself sighing as he found that a few minutes had already gone by and there was still no sign of this Captain Anderson. A tinge of doubt started to find its way into his thoughts. Did he go to the wrong lounge? No. Impossible. Pulling up the message, his eyes scanned over the contents:

Foerstner,

There's been a change of plans. It seems I won't be able to meet up with you as soon as I had anticipated. Council business. Stay in the lounge by the human embassy. I'll find you there.

- Anderson

So he wasn't wrong. A wave of relief swept over him before being replaced by frustration. Where the hell was he? Was he supposed to wait an hour or more in some place he hardly knew? He liked to consider himself a patient person, but recent events had cut his fuse significantly shorter than it used to be. Sighing in frustration, he stood from his seat and maneuvered himself to the bar. If he was going to be here any longer, he might as well have a drink or two.

The bartender finished wiping off the countertop before turning to him, an eyebrow quirked up, "Huh. You must be new around here. This your first time on the Citadel?"

He rolled his shoulders slightly, "You could say that."

The bartender stopped to look at him more intently after hearing him speak, "Curious accent you've got there. Are you Russian per chance?"

A small smile tugged at his lips, "Close. My family stems from Russian descent, but I lived most of my life on one of the colonies on Mars."

"Ah," the man nodded curtly, "Anyways, can I get you something? News? Directions?"

"I could really go for a drink right now," the bartender reached for a glass before he could finish, "but none of those weak drinks these politicians have."

"This early?" the question was asked without expecting an answer as the bartender went straight to work, pulling out a glass and a couple of bottles and a mixer. Mixing a couple of oddly colored liquids, the bartender slid the glass towards him. Normally, he wouldn't have had a problem.

"It's… green?" he took up the glass, looking at the drink from different angles as if to try and figure out why or how it was green.

"You asked for the strong stuff, not what color it should be." The bartender chuckled slightly as he went back to his cleaning duties.

"True." Staring at the odd drink for a few more seconds, he ended up shrugging off the uneasiness and downed the glass in one chug. It took a while, but the strength of the alcohol hit him like a biotic kick. He shook his head slightly as he felt himself jolting back to a more energized state. It was better than just sitting and down nothing at least. For a while, he was content with just standing there, ordering another glass and drinking this one with pace and chatting with the bartender. His nerves were finally starting to unwind and it felt good.

"Callum Foerstner?" A gruff voice spoke out from behind him, sending shivers down his spine from the suddenness of the interruption. Tentatively, he turned around with a neutral look on his face before his eyes landed on three armed figures. Two of them stood in the back, a rather tanned man on one side and an equally tanned woman on the other side. The one in front was… different. His hair was cropped short, but seemed long enough to run fingers through. Hazel eyes, fair skin, a few freckles here and there, and a scar running from his eyebrow to his lower ear. It could've been his appearance, but it seemed more… invisible than that. It was as though he was emanating something.

Callum's eyebrow quirked upwards toward the stranger, "Depends on who's asking. Are you Captain Anderson?"

The man smiled quirkily, "Not quite. I'm Commander Shepard and –"

Callum's hands shot up to cut off the man, "You're just messing with me, aren't you. It can't be… Are you really?"

His eyes must have widened significantly since the three armed soldiers in front of him had smiles, grins, and smirks lining their lips. The Commander simply nodded his head to answer his question. Jesus… The last thing he was expecting was to be serving with the Commander Shepard. He was half expecting to find himself aboard a batarian slaver ship.

"Why so surprised, Foerstner?" The woman spoke up, her eyes looking only slightly devious.

He hesitated, stumbling over his words, "I, well, he," his voice broke into barely more than a whisper, "He was being serious."

Rage. Rage coursed through his veins, forcing his face and ears to take a fearsome scarlet color. His eyes narrowed, his brows furrowed, and a surge of blue energy emanated from his entire body. His knuckles turned white from the pressure he kept his fists clenched in, the one thing keeping him from tossing his CO around the room like a fucking ragdoll.

"I am sick of this bullshit, Captain." His words hissed through gritted teeth as he stood in front of the calm man. The look on his face just continued to tempt him to punch the man with the strongest biotics he could possibly manage.

"You're awfully worked up, Corporal."

"That's it? That's all you've got to say?" He took a step forward," I've been serving under you for three years now. Three years of asking to be assigned to a ship. I'm sick of your bigotry. You shouldn't even be in your position! You don't deserve it."

The man's eyes narrowed, emotion finally slipping through his cover, "You think you're ready, Corporal?"

"I've been ready since the day I enlisted, Sir."

The man's eyes widened in anger, "You're nothing but an inconsiderate maggot. You think you're good enough? You think you're the best? Fine. Let's see how long you last with the best."

"What?" The comments caught him off guard.

"You heard me. You'll be shipping out tomorrow. Head to the armory and relinquish your armor and weapons. You're no longer my problem."

The man standing to Shepard's right spoke up, "Sorry, who?"

Callum shook his head, snapping out of his flashback. He hated when he did that. Sometimes his memory got the better of him. Holding back a sigh, he spoke, "I'll explain later."

Shepard simply nodded, "Right," he straightened his posture and he laced his hands together behind his back, "Anderson sent me to find you and run a field test to see how well you work in a squad. Consider this an evaluation to see whether or not you'll join us. Just focus, listen to commands, cooperate and you'll be fine. Any thoughts, soldier?"

"Just one," Callum scratched at the light stubble on his jawline as he tried to process the information, "This was not in his message, but I'll join you in this, Shepard."

Shepard visibly cringed at the use of his last name, "Just call me Damien. Shepard makes me feel older than I am."

Callum smiled faintly, "All right."

Damien gestured for him to get closer as they started to turn to leave, "Before I go into details, I figure it's best you know who you'll be working with. You've got Kaidan Alenko, our Lt. and resident biotic,"

"Hey." Kaidan nodded at him briefly.

"And then you've got Ashley Williams, our weapons expert."

Ashley piped up, "Damn straight." She slowed down a bit to nudge his side with her elbow.

Callum shook his head with a faint smile on his lips. He watched as the others interacted so smoothly with themselves. He'd hardly have guessed that they were some of the best the Alliance had to offer. The thought of actually integrating himself into their squad was… exciting. It gave him motivation. It made him want to fight. This was his chance to prove himself, and he wasn't going to let it slip by. This was going to be good.