I awake in blackness. It takes me a moment to come back to myself; always does when I first wake up. Hazard of the job, you need time to remember where you are, what you have done and what you are going to do. In the darkness all these answers elude me. I know I am in my apartment, even as my breathing regulates I begin to hear the familiar sounds: the low drone of the fridge, the even tick of the kitchen clock, the hitch of breath and stunted snore of Alias my cat at the foot of the bed. The familiarity slowly eases over me; this is no Alliance military mattress with its rough standard issue sheets and insistent springs digging in like bony fingers, there is no tilt or sway from a ship gliding through space, no intercom crackling next to my head. Instead there is a mahogany headboard, smelling faintly of varnish and the lemon conditioner my sheets are washed in. The pillows are plump and soft; the one thing I always miss when it comes to travelling. Everything on board a ship is small, compact and cheap to buy in bulk. This includes the pillows issued to staff which are more like thin padding for your bed rather than a pillow. I find as I get older these small luxuries become more and more noticeable to me.
Getting old; my mother always teases me about it. "Tick tock, tick tock." She'll say chasing me out of her kitchen and away from her baking, or her cooking – or just generally away. "When am I going to hear the pitter patter of little feet in my home?" She'll nag and I'll avoid that conversation like the plague and gladly remove myself from her sights. Sometimes I wonder if she is genuinely wondering about grandchildren or if she is just tired of restocking her larder and fridge every time I visit for a weekend.
I roll over, feeling Alias rearrange himself as my feet shuffle into his space.
"It's been too long Kaidan, how've you been?"
I crush my eyes closed, pressing my face into my pillow as the voice echoes around my head like a tornado. There is a motion inside me, like gravity is trying to pull my stomach through my feet – like when you sat in the car when you were little, old cars I mean, and went over a hill too fast and your stomach would rush to catch up with you. Nausea rises and I wrap my arms around myself, unwilling to relive the events of yesterday but helpless to stop them as they press on the edges of my mind like dark invaders.
She's alive.
"It's been too long Kaidan, how've you been?"
So casual; like I had just been doing a stint on another frigate for a month and we had bumped into each other. Like we had been writing and calling and keeping in touch this whole time. Like she didn't care that for the last two years I have been a ghost walking, barely living. That I would have traded my every possession, my last credit – hell my life – to have her back, safe and sound. No, she just looked at me – exactly as I remember her. How could two years leave her so unchanged? How could two years of not being with me have left her so unmarked and yet left me so completely altered? I had felt angry then; no – I had felt furious. That she should look at me and be just the way she was, after the hell I had been through. That she would speak to me with such a casual manner, as if nothing had happened between us.
How else was I supposed to react? How else was I supposed to be?
When I think back on all the doctors, the clinics, the shots, the medication… I can barely remember the first year between the drugs and the sessions. Most of my time was spent listening to people tell me how I had to move on; how I had to let go.
Yeah people tell you all kinds of shit when you're messed up.
Like it's so easy to do. Like I could just wake up one morning and say "Hey, you know what – I don't give a shit she's dead anymore, can I go home now?".
So yeah, when I saw her standing there – maybe I overreacted a little, Someone tells you something enough… I guess you start to believe it. So maybe there was some confusion there… maybe seeing her made me a little… scared. I don't ever wanna go back there again; but coming away from it I know I wasn't dreaming… or in some temporary state of psychosis… somehow she is alive.
I can't sleep; knowing she is out there, fighting, and I'm here. Stuck here.
I shouldn't have shouted at her. I could have handled that better; I know I could have. I just… I've missed her so much, seeing her again just – I lost it a little. I know that.
I roll onto my back, sinking into the mattress. I want it to envelope me, I want to just sink inside and never come out again. Or… I want Abigail here with me. That is a much better thought.
I get up on my elbows, blinking in the blackness and flick on my bedside lamp. At my feet Alias stretches, yawning wide as he purrs, slumping his head on my foot. Sleep is beyond me now, slowly I get out of the bed, rubbing the back of my neck where that insect bit me. The doctors assured me it was fine, but it still nips like hell.
There is a bleeping noise, soft and muted, coming from the living room and I winch myself onto my feet, waiting for sleep to leave my legs. My feet stick to the laminate floor as I pad into the living room. This room is brighter, outside the lights of the Citadel glow through the window, casting shadows and beams on the furniture. I flick a lamp on, grimace as I see the light on my console blinking: The source of the noise.
I don't really want another assignment yet; I wish I could tell Anderson to back off a bit, just give me a little space. I open the console, the message isn't from Anderson it's a comm link. Accessing the link I wait for a voice, but instead there is just static. I move to click it off, but the static stops.
"Kai?" The voice is male, gruff and I pause; only one person has ever called me Kai.
"Joker?" I ask, unsure. There is a breath on the other end, sharp and hesitant and I know it is him. I can feel my hands curl at my sides and bite the inside of my cheek. Inside me anger begins to bubble low in my gut.
"What do you want Joker?" I ask, and I know I sound angry. I try to reel it in, but my tone stays the same. I can't help it. I'll forever see that man as the cause of all of this; and if she's alive now that changes nothing, everything I went through – and everything she has gone through… whatever she has gone through… is his fault.
"I just wanted to…" Joker trails off, whether because of a weak signal or an emotional pause I'm not sure. "I wanted to check you were ok."
So now he's worried about my feelings? I roll my shoulders, but the tension is still there, burning at the back of my neck.
"I know you saw Shepard… and I wanted to make sure you were ok."
"Why didn't you tell me she was ok." I ask, a million other questions on the tip of my tongue.
"I guess I didn't think you would… well… things weren't great between us when I last checked. I wasn't sure you would believe me if I told you."
I sink into my chair in front of my desk, the leather squeaking against my skin. "I suppose you're right." I admit, and he is probably right. I doubt I would have even spoke to him.
"Right, so I just wanted to check you were ok. And leave an address; you know in case you wanted it."
"What address?" I ask, picking at the leather on the arm of the chair. A nervous habit I have now, but under the circumstances I'm going to allow it – this once.
"Abby's of course. She's really broken man."
I freeze at both the familiarity he has with me and the news he has delivered. I never meant to hurt her; I mean I did and I didn't. I just didn't know what to say – or do – but I never wanted that. On the other end Joker seems to have noticed the tension and went silent. I hear him clear his throat, shift in his chair.
"Yeah." I say "Yeah I'll maybe drop her a message." I sit up, the thought of Abigail on the Normandy upset weighing heavily on me. "I really have to go, actually…"
"Hey it's ok. I just… well, maybe next time we're at the Citadel we could get a beer or something… talk… you know…"
I pause, my finger hovering over the disconnect button. I remember the first time I really met Joker, I remember how irritating I thought he was. We had been waiting forever it seemed for Admiral Anderson to introduce us to the new CO, exchanging theories on who it could be. When he had first seen Shepard, Joker had been much like myself, speechless.
In love.
Well… maybe that was just me.
"Yeah." I say, non-committal, for old-time's sake "Sure."
"Cool. Well, I'll send you a wave next time we're there and you can let me know if you're free to catch up."
"No problem." I say, half meaning it. It is a problem, but it's maybe one I can work on. With that the console clicks as the line disconnects, leaving me in my own company once more.
Drawing a new message box up I lean over the keyboard; waiting. What can I say to her? How do I even start to explain the last two years to her? I take a deep breath, looking at the title box and begin to type…
About Horizon…
