A/N: This is a little writing challenge I've created for myself for an idea I woke up with this morning. It's pretty simple: For one week I'll write a short bit each day, post it at the end of the day, and hope I have a cohesive short story made of several small parts by the end of the week. It'll be a bit rough, so please bear with me as there may be some small errors I miss.
Sharp clicks echoed through the CIC, getting louder as they approached the cockpit. Only two people aboard felt sexy legs were worth the risk of a blown ankle… well, aside from him, but they didn't need to know that. Besides, it wasn't his ankle on the line. Samara disappeared into the Citadel as soon as they landed, hot on the trail of an important lead of some sort or another, so that only left one possible person. He started speaking to her before he fully turned around.
"Hey Miranda, any idea when Shepard will be back? I'm ordering food and wanted… to… time…" Joker's words drifted away along with his ability to form complete thoughts. The sight before him rendered him absolutely speechless, which was a feat unto itself.
A strange, twisted version of Shepard approached the front of the ship. They'd known one anther most of their lives, yet this was a look he'd never seen before – never even imagined possible. It looked as though Jack and Miranda actually worked together for the first time, taking the most scandalous parts of their respective wardrobes and throwing them together, and the result was the barely-clad demon doll heading straight for him. In their respective wardrobes Miranda always looked self-assured and almost classy, and Jack was… well, terrifying, but Shepard trumped them both somehow. Shepard made it look deadly – hot (though he would never admit that as long as he lived), but deadly.
Ridiculously high heels of Shepard's polished black boots clicked with each long stride, her hips swaying dangerously to the staccato beat. The body of the footwear blended seamlessly with the shiny, formfitting pants hugging her curves, while two thick straps of the same material crisscrossed her chest, covering the bare minimum and nothing more before merging with the pants on each side to form some bastardized jumpsuit. Pale alabaster glowed in sharp contrast to the dark material, highlighting the fine web of unhealed scars lacing her skin peeking from the plunging neckline and cutouts along her torso, back, and sides of her chest, creating the image of cracked glass that was too strong and stubborn to shatter.
"Oh… um… hey Shepard, I didn't know you were back already," Jeff stuttered, attempting to fill the awkward silence that fell over them once he realized he'd been staring. Concern knotted his gut when there was no response, so he searched her face for clues. He was adept at reading her after years of practice.
Shepard's short, fire-red hair was slicked away from her face to provide a clear view, but she was unreadable. Her lips paled from being pursed together, the lack of color more startling in contrast with the glowing orange scars across her face pulsing to the rapid beat of her heart. There was no eye contact. That was the crucial ingredient, and she knew it, so her eyes focused into a thousand-yard-stare on a point above his head.
"So… how'd things go with Anderson?"
"I'm going out and won't be back tonight." Shepard outright avoided the question, which was all the answer he needed. A long black coat with an oversized hood slid over her body as she spoke and her figure instantly disappeared into the murky shadows within. The clasps across her chest molded the top of the loose garment to her ample figure as the rest flowed freely around her, but at least she was covered.
"Where're you heading, an ancient Druid festival? Is it a solstice or something? I mean, really, what's with the Bondage-Barbie get-up?" Joker was desperate, throwing everything out to goad a reaction, but there was none; Shepard merely focused on the door in front of her. The button chimed as she pressed it and waited. Time was running out.
"What the hell's going on?" Joker outright demanded. He was scared for his best friend, knowing full well how much she struggled with everything that happened to her, which was totally understandable; she was forging new territory and nobody really knew how to guide her through it, yet she somehow held on by her fingernails and made it look effortless to everyone she'd kept at a distance, but he knew of the struggle. Then Horizon happened. There was no more hiding it. Even the newbies on the ship grew concerned for her wellbeing after that fiasco, momentarily forgetting all their own problems.
Joker waited patiently until Shepard finally turned to face him. Their eyes met and in that one moment his heart shattered. Those once-vibrant little windows to her soul were dull, closed off; she completely shut down. "Talk to me, Rae… please," he begged. He'd only seen her like this twice before, and she barely survived the last time. If she left now, like this…
"No." The icy whisper was so hardened, so cold it lanced right through him, rendering him speechless once more. Shepard's eyes flashed dangerously as she pulled the hood over her face until her features disappeared, but the haunting glow lingered. "I may be a bit slow on the uptake, but I've learned my lesson. When you let people get close you're just giving them ammunition and a wider target for their attacks. Well, I'm done." She slid through the doors and was gone.
"Garrus!" Joker shouted over the comms, watching helplessly as Shepard disappeared into the crushing crowd along the docks. She was flying solo, completely shut down, and looking for a fight. And there was no way in hell she was armed in that outfit; there wasn't room for a credit chit in that garb. And he suddenly realized she wasn't wearing her 'tool, either, so they couldn't even track her down. If he didn't work fast there was a good chance she wouldn't survive the night, and there was no way he could handle it alone.