Author's Notes: I was writing a long, dramatic story about my Shepard's origins, got writer's block, and decided to try out this idea that's been bouncing around my head for a while. Someone a while back hoped for an relatively exclusive Shepard/Traynor relationship in one of my stories. So... close enough.

For this story, I'm just writing by the seat of my pants and seeing where it leads from there. I'm also taking a leaf out of Midnight Lion's Pressure and write relatively short chapters with great characterization. Since my characterization isn't on the same level as ML's, I'll just write shorter chapters and update faster ;P

Disclaimer: Bioware own the characters and ME3. That's about it.

Samantha Traynor is nearly passing out in the elevator heading up to the captain's cabin. Her data pad taps restlessly against her thigh, her eyes are darting everywhere in the tiny, moving compartment.

Did she mention she doesn't like elevators? She thinks of them as slow metal deathtraps that would cause a painfully long death by suffocation if they got stuck and no one could get you out. She wishes they had some instant teleportation device that could zip them from level to level instead.

Aren't they already in the 22nd century? People two centuries ago were already dreaming of instant teleportation. Why didn't they focus their research on moving people at a molecular level instead of squabbling over who punishes whom for blowing up a star system with 300,000 people in it?

Traynor chastises herself. She's being disrespectfully flippant. If those 300,000 had been human lives, would she still be able to joke about it so easily?

The Hegemony had damn near revolted, pressuring the Alliance to hand over their only Spectre. Humans on Earth and in the colonies had been in an uproar. Many people wanted to hand over the commander to avoid the possibility of fighting a full-out war with the batarians. Others had vehemently argued that releasing a galactic hero into batarian custody would not only guarantee her death but be a betrayal of the very virtues she embodied such as courage, integrity, and honour. Pockets of pro-human groups took Shepard's action as an unspoken validation of what they've been preaching about and organized bold terrorist strikes against the alien minorities in Earthen cities and colonies. That led to general chaos and an increased strain of relationships from the governments those aliens belonged to. Many people wanted to know what Shepard's excuses were, what justifications she thought were adequate enough to play God with so many lives. However, whatever Shepard's arguments in defence of her actions had been were only known to the military tribunal who sentenced her. Everyone else was left to speculate.

Traynor isn't sure what to think. She had watched Shepard in the vids of her award ceremony nearly three years ago. She remembers watching the solemnity with which Shepard accepted her medals, the pain that crossed her face when the Alliance brass named the soldiers and civilians who perished in the Citadel attack. She can't believe that the woman who spoke so passionately about remembering the lost could be the same one who murdered thousands of batarian civilians in cold blood. Traynor doesn't think Shepard is just another violent criminal with too much power, not after what she saw on Horizon. She is unsure of what to say to her nonetheless. She would have to find out soon.

The specialist shifts nervously from foot to foot. She has taken painstaking care to ensure she appears immaculately groomed and professional. Wouldn't want to piss off a person who can shoot her on the spot without legal repercussions on her first day, would she? Ha ha.

That's not funny. Traynor needs to stop thinking like that.

The doors hiss open, and Samantha takes a breath. She steps out to meet her new captain.

"Commander Shepard? I'm Specialist-oh."

The commander is leaning back against the rails with an asari in white and blue armour in front of her. Traynor thinks it's Dr. Liara T'Soni from the files she's read about the old Normandy. Dr. T'Soni seems on the verge of reaching out towards the commander when she jerks her hand away. The entire atmosphere is rather tense from the way the two look at each other. Traynor considers that perhaps she should have checked in a little later.

"I thought you were alone. I'll -"

The doctor turns on her heel and walks away. "I was just leaving."

"Liara." Shepard takes a step towards the fleeing asari.

"Shepard, I will talk to you later." The tone sounds strained. The commander gazes after the asari with something like wistfulness on her face. Traynor's pretty sure she's interrupted something when the commander turns to her with narrowed eyes.

Great, twenty seconds in, and she's already managed to bungle her introduction with the first human Spectre.

Traynor attempts to salvage her poise. If she's going to piss off her potential commanding officer, she wants to at least appear competent about her job while doing so. She salutes. "I'm Comm Specialist Samantha Traynor with Alliance R&D."

The commander is gazing down the path where Dr. T'Soni has fled. Traynor wonders if she's heard a word the specialist said. She coughs delicately to get her attention.

"I was part of the team retro-fitting the Normandy after you turned it over to the Alliance. There weren't many of us aboard when the Reapers hit-"

Shepard barks something, and Traynor jumps. The specialist feels her cheeks flush when she realizes that the sound had been the commander's version of a laugh.

"Slow down, Specialist Traynor. You're doing fine." The corners of the commander's lips twitch oddly. "You can just call me Shepard."

Traynor feels weird being informal so quickly with a commanding officer, but she adapts. It helps that she has just made a fool out of herself enough that her captain is stifling her laughter. "Thank you…Shepard. I worked in a lab. I never thought I'd be on a ship. I can show you-"

Shepard steps towards her cabin. "Come in and explain to me what you've done to my precious ship, and maybe I'll forgive you."

Well, that certainly doesn't sound ominous.

Traynor takes a steadying breath and steps through.

The captain's cabin seem almost conspicuously bare. There are no pictures, no possessions outside of the necessary on the shelves or on Shepard's desk. The fish tank is empty, the desk is swept clean, and the room looks hardly used, save for the tangle of covers on the bed. Traynor is disappointed. She thought she could gleam a little of the commander's personality through her room, but there is nothing here. The commander probably just hasn't had enough time to settle in. They had only been on the ship a small number of hours anyways.

"So, my ship?" Commander Shepard turns and waits for Traynor. The specialist grips her data pad and unloads with the presentation she's prepared.

Commander Shepard takes all of the modifications in stride. She even compliments Traynor on her excellent integration of current Alliance communication tech with existing Cerberus ones. The specialist feels light and tingly. She reminds herself not to swoon in front of humanity's only Spectre. She can take simple praise like a mature adult…right? Right. That is never in doubt. Grown woman, yes. Right, Shepard is still talking.

Traynor makes an unfortunate confession part-way into their conversation.

The commander just looks at her, and Traynor wonders if it is only her that finds EDI's voice attractive. She can't tell what Shepard thinks. Nothing on her face gives away what she feels about the comment. Traynor guesses that Shepard is probably a fantastic poker player with that much control over her expressions. She considers challenging her if she gets the chance.

Near the end of their talk, EDI requests that the specialist stays, and the commander agrees.

"Well, Traynor, it looks like you did an admirable job retro-fitting the Normandy. Would you like to stay on-board?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'd love to work under you."

Wait, she meant with. Traynor hopes Shepard didn't interpret it the way the specialist did.

The commander holds out her hand, and Traynor takes it.

"Welcome aboard." Shepard breaks her mask, and her eyes seem to be dancing.

The tension Traynor felt earlier melts away. Samantha's eyes flit over the shape of the commander's lips, the line of her nose, the intensity of those sharp and unreadable eyes. It might be Traynor's imagination, but the commander seems to be holding her hand a tad long. Samantha wonders if she should say something when the commander lets go.

"I hope to see more of you, Specialist."

"As much as you'd like, Commander. "

No, that isn't what she meant. Well, that is what she meant but not in that other way that could be misconstrued as-

Traynor needs to stop thinking so much.

The doors slide close as the specialist leaves Shepard's room. Her hand still tingles from when the commander held it. Traynor tries not to heed it one bit.

She later finds herself wandering the Normandy when most people are sleeping.

Traynor can't help but be proud of her part in remodeling the ship with top-of-the-line Alliance technology. The Normandy has Quantum Entanglement Communications enablers. Quantum Entanglement! They can coordinate communications with people across the galaxy with the highest security available, relay vital information immediately without relying on the comm buoys, which the Reapers have taken decisive action to either destroy or deactivate. The fact that the Alliance had managed to incorporate one into the Normandy's budget is impressive to Samantha. The sheer cost of a QEC matched the eezo drive itself.

Traynor is so busy admiring the final polish of the Normandy that she barely avoids walking into the commander in the mess hall.

Shepard has dark bruises under her eyes. There's only a handful of hours until they are supposed to reach Palaven. The commander should be sleeping.

"Commander, are you doing planning some last-minute combat strategies for when we land?"

Shepard rubs her face. "No, just a midnight stroll."

"For fresh air on the Normandy?"

Shepard laughs, and this time, Traynor is prepared for it. She frowns at how exhausted the commander looks. "You should really be in bed."

"Are you going to lead me there?" Shepard looks at her, and Traynor can't make heads or tails of anything suggestive behind it. She decides to play it safe and assume it is innocently meant.

"I don't know, Commander. I would guess that the first human Spectre and saviour of the galaxy would be able to find her own bed."

Shepard chuckles. "Saviour of the galaxy. People still think I'm that after the Bahak system?"

"Everyone knows you were telling the truth about the Reapers now." Traynor doesn't like the tired and self-deprecating smile on the commander's face. "You saved the Citadel two years ago, and you saved the colonists from the Collectors when the Alliance did nothing. I-" Samantha bites back her tongue. Is this the right time to tell her?

Not yet.

"You're a hero, Commander. Everyone working on this ship thinks you are."

"I don't."

"Well, I do."

"Yes…

"Thank you." Shepard looks away. Silence bleeds into the space between them under the soft lights of the mess hall. Traynor's not sure what to say.

"Are you going to sleep soon, Commander?"

"What about you, Specialist?"

"Well, I'm not the one who's going to be shot at in a few hours. Get some rest, Commander. It'd be a shame to ruin that pretty face of yours because you were too tired to duck."

Traynor hadn't meant to say that last part, but Shepard laughs it off. She probably thinks Traynor is joking.

"My face is pretty?" Shepard runs a finger down the thin, red ridges that line her left jaw and chin. "Even with these on it?" she asks, softly.

"I think they add character." Traynor refrains herself from reaching out and running a finger along the scars on Shepard's face. She doesn't know her well enough to touch her. "They're markers of what you fought for."

"Or of what I've lost." Shepard disdainfully touches the scar across the bridge of her nose. Is it strange that Traynor finds that particular mark on her face attractive? The specialist thinks it makes the commander look dashing and roguish, dangerous and sexy all at the same time, like a pirate from the 18th century or a lone, gallant hero who rushes in to save the damsel at the last moment.

That sounds really corny. No more romance ibooks for Samantha.

"Commander, we're all losing something in this war. I-" Traynor stutters on her words. She doesn't want to talk about Horizon. "I'm sure that the others on the ship are worried about their family and friends right now." Samantha knows that not all scars are on the outside. The worst ones can't be seen.

"How about you?" Shepard asks. "Anything or anyone you're worried about?"

The questions come low and quiet but forceful all the same. Traynor can't stand to look into Shepard's eyes when she answers. "That's a story for another time."

Traynor starts to leave.

"Hold on, Specialist. I don't recall dismissing you."

"Ma'am? Was there something else you wanted to say?"

"I…" Shepard runs her hands through her short, messy hair. "You've caught me at a bad moment. I'm usually not so dark and broody."

"It's not always a bad thing, Commander. A lot of women like dark and broody. I'm sure some men do as well." Not that Traynor would know.

Shepard glances at her. "Is that based on personal experience?"

"Somewhat." Traynor doesn't really feel like sharing horror dating stories right now. She has quite a few involving a sociopath and a former partner with destructive neurotic tendencies. "It's certainly a popular trend in the movies at least."

The commander opens her mouth. What she says next completely throws off the specialist. "'Coquettishly: You're a pain, Buben, but I can't resist your good-looking partner.'"

Traynor stares blankly at Shepard before she realizes it is a Blasto reference. "I'm sorry, Commander. I'm not really well-acquainted with that particular franchise."

"You've seen the movies, right?"

"Actually…"

The look the commander gives her makes Traynor wish she'd fumbled for a clever quote instead. Shepard shakes her head. "You should really watch them. It'll give you a good idea what you're in for on the Normandy," the commander says, and Traynor's not sure if she's kidding.

"I'll keep that in mind, Commander. I have to confess something though." Traynor makes a show of looking around then cups a hand to her mouth and whispers. "I find you more attractive than a big, pink jellyfish any day of the week."

Shepard smiles. It's a small one, but it's real and it transforms her face completely. Traynor is amazed at how such a simple expression can soften everything in her face from the jagged lines of her scars to the haunted look in her eyes. Shepard is beautiful when she smiles. It's a shame that Traynor has never seen any videos in which she does.

"Clearly, your tastes aren't as advanced as the elcor," Shepard says. "Everyone's attracted to Blasto."

"Clearly, I'm not everyone then."

Shepard runs her gaze up and down Traynor. "Clearly." There's something appreciative in her eyes that makes Traynor blush.

Is… Shepard flirting with her? Or is Traynor imagining things because she's read too many sappy romance stories about a commanding officer falling in love with her subordinate? It's probably the latter.

Yes, it's safer to assume it's the latter.

"My girlfriends and I used to talk about Blasto all the time back in training."

Girlfriends? Traynor is probably also hallucinating this part of the conversation. Shepard probably means that in a platonic way and totally not in anything more intimate.

But, just in case…

Traynor asks, "So, when you say girlfriends, you mean…?"

Shepard laughs. She bids Traynor good night and walks away. As Samantha watches her disappear down the corridor towards the elevator, she realizes that she's just learned something important.

Commander Shepard is a complete tease.

Author's Endnotes: If you feel that there's anything off in this chapter, feel free to message me in a review or PM, telling me what doesn't work. I don't plan to spend a month editing each chapter, so I would love to hear your constructive criticism about what you feel would make this story work better.

Thanks for reading. Cheers.