I hear the screech of metal on metal as she pulls one of the plastic lunch chairs back and hold my breath. She wedges in next to me, bringing one knee up to her chest where her hand rests, the other foot planted on the floor in its thick, cream, woollen sock. In her other hand she holds a blue striped mug filled with a hot beverage; hot chocolate I think as the sweet, candy scent wafts toward me.
I pretend to be reading the datapad I have in my hand, watching her from the edges of my eyes as I have learned to do.
She is dressed in an oversized jumper; one I don't recognise, it's not N7. It looks like it belonged to someone once upon a time, red in colour and made from wool, it hangs off her tiny frame and would have looked ridiculous I think on anyone else, but somehow she suited the look. Beneath its mass her legs are covered by black leggings, her feet in thick woollen pop socks.
If we weren't sitting in the Normandy's mess hall you would think she had just got off a shift at home and was curling up on her couch.
Her dark brown hair is pulled roughly back, bangs have come loose here and there and they fall around her beautiful face as she furrows her brow, proceeding to pick the currants out of the muffin she has stolen from the chef's larder.
I find that amusing, I can feel the corners of my mouth twitch as I watch her meticulously hunt them down, picking each one free with long, delicate fingers and placing them on a napkin she has sat neatly on the table in front of her.
I watch her mouth; curved and full as she draws her teeth over her bottom lip. I think about placing my lips there; what it might feel like to be kissed by Abigail Shepard.
"What's up?" A voice, intruding, cuts into my thoughts and I nearly drop the datapad as I flinch, rescuing it without too much incident.
Ashley wanders through the kitchen area, her fingertips gliding along the chrome countertop as she pauses at the coffee machine. "Figured I would find you two here." She says with gusto "Where else do you find biotics on downtime?"
I can't think of a witty reply, not with Shepard so close to me and clouding my every thought with her movements, so sullenly I return to the datapad.
It's a newsfeed from my hometown Vancouver, my mother insists on sending them to me every month or so, and finding myself a little homesick I thought it would help to read through the latest goings-on.
"Did you manage to get the requisitions you ordered ok?" Shepard asks, breaking of a pinch of muffin and popping it into her mouth.
From where she stands filling a mug Ashley nods, flicking her long black hair over her shoulder.
"I did." She says "Thanks. The grenade upgrades we received should be handy."
She flicks the switch on the coffee machine again and pads over to the table. I notice she is in slippers, but the rest of her outfit is strictly Alliance uniform. The black joggers, the white tank top, the zippered jacket.
"Whatcha reading LT?" She asks, taking a tentative sip of her drink.
I glance to her to find both women looking at me intently. I feel heat begin to creep up my neck and shake my head, setting the pad down.
"Nothing much." I say "Couldn't sleep?"
Ashley smiles, moving her shoulders "Yeah, I'm a little jittery. Not been back to Earth in so long; this stop near luna is kinda making me a little homesick."
I can understand that; to be so near your home and not able to visit is almost unbearable. When I think about my home, it always looks the same. The house is one of those old builds with the porch out front.
Once upon a time it was inland of the coast, but with time it matured to beachfront, overlooking the First Beach – or English Bay to the tourists. Most of my teenage years home from BAAT training were spent on the roof of that porch, guitar and cold beer in hand, watching the sun set on the watery horizon.
My mother would be baking no doubt; she loved to bake. Loved to create things since retirement.
She tells me she should have had more children, but after they had me and all my problems my father flat refused to risk it again. Not that I was a problem; it was more my biotics that my father resented. I can't imagine I was much different to other kids; I never got into any serious trouble or anything, kept my head down and did well at school – but I was different, and my dad hated that.
He's the kind of guy that signed up for the first contact war intending to annihilate aliens. Playing politics with them is something he can't stand, and biotics, he feels, are an alien influence on humanity.
For years he looked at me like I was a stranger rather than his own flesh and blood – it wasn't until I enlisted he even began to talk to me about things I was interested in. Up to that point he avoided me as best he could; took long missions that meant he was away for months at a time.
I didn't care much; my mom was always good to me; even when the BAAT training went south she let me come home without any degree of disappointment in her voice.
"Homesick?" Shepard asks, bringing me back to the table. "I didn't know you had family on Earth."
Ashley moved her shoulders, taking another drink from her mug "Well, it's no big deal Shep; still going to be ready whatever you got."
I look to Shepard and she is brooding in her muffin, her large blue eyes are darkened with thoughts behind them that I can't read. I can sense the question coming suddenly, and I look to Ashley in warning, but she isn't looking at me.
"What about your family Shep?" She asks, innocently, and I close my eyes.
Anyone who has read Shepard's service record – which I have, numerous times till it was dog-eared almost – will know that she was born on Earth. That her family moved to Mindoir when she turned fifteen and the colony began to look for professionals to help with their expansion project.
Abigail's mother was a tech engineer, and a damn good one at that. She had served previously with the Alliance at the headquarters, working on some of the top range fighter jets and shuttles.
Her father was a researcher with a list of doctorates and diplomas as long as my arm; he was also a keen biologist and was desperate to study the alien races. Really, it was inevitable that they would move from Earth eventually.
Mindoir was raided by Batarian slavers two days following Shepard's sixteenth birthday; her mother and father and their unborn son did not survive the attack. Neither did the 437 other colonists that lived there at the time. By some miracle Shepard had survived.
The details are not public knowledge, and at times I have been tempted to ask her, but I've never had the courage to speak about it.
"I don't have any family." She says, quietly, picking at the muffin-top again.
"Oh." Ashley says, clearly embarrassed by her faux pas.
I realise this is probably a time for me to interject with a change of subject, to rescue the now floundering gunnery chief as she looks everywhere but in Shepard's eyes.
"You have us." I say, and the moment I do I can feel my cheeks burn with heat as Shepard fixes me with those eyes.
"I should get some sleep." Ashley says, rising and finishing her drink in one gulp, setting the mug back on the table. "See you topside." She mutters, pushing her hair behind her ears. She shuffles away and I take a breath, my chest tight and burning from mortification.
"I hope I didn't upset her." Abigail mumbles beside me and I shake my head.
"I'm sure she'll be fine. Are you ok?"
She looks at me, almost confused and doesn't answer. She sets the muffin on the napkin, looping stray strands that have fallen into her eyes behind her ears instead.
"Did you mean what you said?" She asks, and I feel my heart sink. So she had heard me then.
"Mean what?" I ask, feigning ignorance, if I pretend I have no idea maybe she will just drop it.
"That I have you guys." She says, and when she looks at me this time I can see there is pain there, just behind her eyes and I'm compelled to reach out to her. I have to force my hand to stay where it is.
"Well, you have me anyway." I say, the words scraping past the lump that is growing in my throat. She cocks her head to the side, smiling a little, and that puts me on edge. "What?" I ask, dreading her response.
"Nothing." She smiles "I just never had you as the sentimental type Alenko, you surprise me."
I feel angry; I want her to understand what I am trying to tell her.
I want her to know that she is all I think about in the day; that before I close my eyes to sleep she is there, when they open for work, she is there and every moment in between when my thoughts are free to their own devices they gravitate back to her.
I want her to know that she means everything to me. That I might stumble over words on how to explain my feelings, but they are genuine, and real.
"Do you mind me sitting here, talking to you like this?" She asks suddenly and I blink, turning to look at her.
"No." I say quickly "Why? Do you want to be somewhere else?"
She shakes her head "I like it here. It's always warm and it reminds me of the Humbee." I have no idea what she is talking about, but I nod anyway, as though I understand.
"Plus, Liara doesn't look for me here." She adds with a grin, as though we are conspiring together "I get a little rest from the Prothean montage."
I smile uncomfortable, and rub the back of my neck. "So the rumours aren't true then?" I ask and she frowns, looking at me confused once more.
"What rumours? And do I want to know?"
I feel panic in my chest, trapped. I had no idea she wasn't aware of the lower deck whisperings, being the messenger is not something I relish.
"Well," I say tactfully "There is a rumour that you and Liara are… pretty close… you know."
She looks at me incredulously for a moment, blinking once, twice before she takes a short breath.
"but Liara is a woman." She says as if it were the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard.
"I know." I say lamely, it's so hot in here! "I know right?"
She breaks into laughter, pressing a hand to her abdomen as she leans back in the chair "I would have thought if anyone was going after Liara it would have been you Lieutenant." She picks some more cake off the muffin and tilts her head back to receive it.
"Me?" I ask, relaxing a little at her laughter, feeling the tension slowly ease from my muscles. "Nah." I roll my shoulders "I suppose if you like that sort… but she's not my type."
"Ah." Shepard grins "And what is your type then, Kaidan? Ashley?"
"No." I say, too quickly, and I grimace a little as I try to smooth that over "She's a little too aggressive for me." I add.
"Then tell me your type." She says, her voice playful and I look away, the pain of holding the words in almost breaking my ribs.
"It's not importan-"
"No." Her voice has changed, it is firm; commanding, and I pause, turning my head to look at her properly. She's sitting straight in the seat, her eyes level with mine and she holds my gaze unwavering "I want you to tell me." She says evenly "I want to hear it from you."
I feel like a fool.
She has been playing me along the whole time. Panic shoots up my leg and explodes in my chest like fireworks, I bite my tongue, my hands curling to fists as I try to keep my emotions under control.
"Who told you?" I manage, and it comes out in a rasp – thick and wheezy and only adds to my embarrassment.
"Does that matter?" She asks, inching closer to me so she is sitting on the edge of her seat, her legs turned toward me, one elbow on the table, the other over the back of the chair "Isn't what matters that you didn't tell me?"
I pause, this could be a trick. She could be teasing, playing; luring me out to laugh in my face. I take a shuddering breath, turning my gaze from those eyes; but her hand catches my face, the cold wave of electricity shivering over my skin as her biotic discharge ignites against my own. That hand pulls me back to those eyes, and then her lips are on mine.
It's everything I thought it would be; soft, and sweet, her lips deliciously warm; the after scent of cake and candy. Her hand slips into my hair and I feel like I'm falling. I feel like I'm losing myself in a sea of emotions that roil and twist inside me.
She breaks away from me, her cheeks are pink, her lips parted and swollen from kissing as she gets to her feet, holding my gaze the entire time. I can't look away, I don't want to.
She grabs the collar of my t-shirt and I follow her willingly as she unfolds like a flower over the table top, shoving that muffin aside it skitters off the table, the plate clattering to the floor.
I hold my breath, but she is leaving me no time to contemplate the act – her hands snatch at my shirt, pulling it roughly from where it is tucked into my combats. The rush of air hits my skin as she lifts it free over my head, I try to catch my breath; but it comes in only short, breathless hitches as she presses her body to mine, her tongue darting into my mouth sending my head spinning.
Cautiously I place a hand on her, but it's not enough, beneath that woollen jumper I can feel her muscles moving and tensing as our kissing intensifies, but I need to feel skin. I need to feel her against me.
I pull her shirt free, not sure where it lands as I drop it aside. She presses herself against me and a groan escapes me. This seems to send her into frenzy, and she pulls eagerly at the zipper of my combats.
"Wait." I say, breathless "Here? Really?"
She shakes her head, her hair has come loose in the tussle and bounces over her shoulders "I've been waiting months for you Kaidan." She growls with a smile "I think I've waited long enough."
Now, I'm not one to object. Not in such circumstances. But I do want to protect her and perhaps making her a woman on the mess hall table is not the best way to go about that.
I tick my gaze to the door, wondering if I could get her back to her cabin without breaking the mood – but she's not waiting for anyone. Her hands wrap around my neck pulling me on top of her again and we crash onto the table.
She rolls, positioning herself on top of me and I almost lose it there and then, blinking as my eyes adjust to looking up at the down-lighting in the ceiling.
She's removed her leggings, how she managed to I have no idea – but she has. I can feel the heat of her legs against my hips as she braces herself on my shoulders. And then she is on me – or I'm in her – and I can't think straight anymore.
My head is a whirl of sensations and emotions; elation, lust, love, trepidation.
Her hands sink back into my hair as she brings her mouth back to mine. Her hair falls around me like a curtain in one of those old broadway shows – but when I look at her she shines.
"I love you." I say, my lips brushing hers as I whisper it against her mouth. She smiles, and presses her lips to mine again.
"ALENKO!" Ashley's voice makes me flinch and I feel a stabbing pain as my leg smacks off the table. I yelp, rubbing my knee and glancing around me.
Shepard and Ashley are both staring at me; their eyes like needles.
"Where were you?" Ashley smiled, taking another sip of coffee "We were just talking about Earth."
"I was home." I say, breathlessly, glancing to Abigail and feeling my face flush with heat "I was just thinking about home."