Chapter 1: Vancouver
Shepard paced her room. Thirteen steps from the door to the bulkhead, a swivel on her heel, and back to the door again. Anderson was late for their daily meeting.
She stalked past the three sets of empty metal brackets on the wall. What she wouldn't give for just one of them to be active, even if the only thing it broadcasted were elcor opera. She had to make do with just her window. Her off-the-record mission a month ago—when she was supposed to have been under lock and key—hadn't endeared her to the brass. It hadn't helped James either, which was probably why she hadn't seen him in over a week.
She stopped her pacing and stood before the window, hands clasped behind her back as she stared out at the glass and steel buildings. Kids played in the garden perched atop the base housing next door. She knew most of their faces now. Today, they played tag, and she could almost hear their screaming as they tried to keep from getting tagged. A mousy, brown-haired boy she'd never seen before popped his head out of a hiding place and Shepard's gut twisted. From this far away, he looked like Aaron as she remembered him.
She whirled away from the window and resumed her pacing. The door beeped and opened as Shepard was halfway to the back wall. She spun on her heel.
"You're late," she said, frowning.
"No rest for the wicked nor, apparently, for admirals," said Anderson as he stepped into the room. The door slid shut behind him, cutting off the noise from the rest of the detention centre.
"Any news?"
"The Bahak Systen isn't part of Citadel Space, so the Council hasn't asked for a trial," said Anderson as he sat in one of the chairs at her table. He motioned for her to sit, but she stayed standing. "The Alliance is worried you'll use the trial as a soapbox anyway."
"You mean, they're scared I'll tell the truth about the Reapers," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Project Base was black-ops and offline. There's still nothing to back you up but the word of your squad, most of whom aren't exactly the kind of people the Alliance trusts," said Anderson, giving her a helpless shrug.
"Kaidan's a reliable witness." Anderson's gaze flickered away to the window, and Shepard gave him an incredulous look. "He says they don't exist too? After everything we went through with Saren and Sovereign?"
Anderson sighed as he rubbed a hand over his face. The tired lines on his forehead and the shadows under his eyes had deepened over the time he'd been councillor. Shepard couldn't help the guilt that pricked at her conscience for recommending him to the post. Her decision had been selfish; she just wanted to see Udina passed over for the honour of first human councillor. Now that spineless boshtet was councillor anyway and Anderson had aged too quickly.
"Major Alenko–"
"Oh, I get it now." Shepard nodded slowly, the skin around her eyes tight with suppressed anger. "The major knows that people don't become majors when they side with the crazy, traitorous Commander Shepard."
"That's not fair and you know it," said Anderson. His gaze burned into her and she turned away.
Anderson's admonishment didn't soothe her anger. She was tired of being cooped up; tired of being cut off; tired of hearing she was lying, insane, brainwashed.
"You were gone for two years, Shepard." Anderson's level voice tugged her from her bitter thoughts. "You saw how easily the truth about Sovereign and the Reapers was covered up. Alenko did what any other soldier would: he got on with his work."
Shepard ran a frustrated hand through her hair. She knew he was right; she just didn't want to admit it. Without her old squad around to remind her how much they'd changed, her death blended into the dark background of her memories. Shepard kept all her problems tucked away in labelled boxes in her mind, their lids covered in dust—except for a few that had recently been disturbed.
"It wasn't easy to move on," said Anderson, breaking the silence that Shepard had let linger. "Least of all for him."
"He's moved on enough to forget," she said, harsher than she'd intended.
"Seems like you've moved on too."
Shepard twisted around to give him a sharp look. Anderson raised a knowing eyebrow. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously and Anderson's eyebrow rose higher. She'd hoped her nascent relationship with James would stay a secret.
"Don't worry. You've been discreet," he said.
Shepard chewed her bottom lip. "Obviously not discreet enough. I don't want James to get another black mark in his file because of me."
"There's only one way to guarantee that."
Yeah, by breaking it off, she thought. Instead, she said, "Have a Reaper invasion?"
Anderson snorted. "Fine, two ways."
Anderson's omnitool beeped and he looked down at the glow around his arm. He frowned as he read whatever message he'd received, then shut his omnitool and stood.
"No rest for the wicked?" she asked.
"Nor, apparently, for admirals," he said with a rueful grin. "I'll keep you updated."
Shepard nodded, and he left. With a sigh, she collapsed onto the bed.
There was never anything to do after Anderson left for the day. The ceiling was becoming all too familiar.
Without a suitable distraction, her mind turned to her cousin, Aaron. Her hands clenched, fingernails digging into her calloused palm at the thought of the batarian slaver who'd bought her cousin and turned him into an assassin. She couldn't help dwelling on the furious pain that drenched the batarian's voice as she'd blamed the murder of her family on Aratoht on Shepard. Vengeance. Shepard understood. The darkest corners of her conscience whispered that she wasn't so different, pointing to the bloodied box of memories labelled 'Torfan'.
The door slid open again and Shepard wiped the scowl from her face. She turned her head, wondering if Anderson had forgotten something.
"When I left, you were in that exact same position, bonita," said James, sauntering in. He waited until the door was closed before adding, "Only, you were naked."
She couldn't help smiling at the sight of him. "I wasn't naked."
"In my head you were," said James, giving her a cheeky grin.
Shepard propped herself up on her elbows and raised an eyebrow at him. "You've never seen me naked."
"We should fix that."
Despite his cocky words, he shuffled his weight from one foot to the other, like he was waiting for an invitation to come closer. His gaze slid from her to the rest of the room before settling out the window. She understood his hesitation. Without each other's constant company, she was reminded of just how little they knew about each other—and just how much they still preferred to hide about themselves. Their short visits usually devolved into playful banter rather than delving into each other's souls. It was just easier, and easy was a welcome change.
"You can't make good on your word from all the way over there," she said.
His gaze snapped from the window to her, eyes round. "What?"
"Don't go all virginal on me now, Lieutenant." Shepard didn't think she was very good at seduction, but she tried her best to sound like the femme fatales did in the vids. Her voice dropped into a smooth purr, a little smile tugged the edges of her lips, and her chin inched a bit higher to show off the expanse of delicate skin on her neck that begged to be kissed. "There're no bugs, the windows are tinted, and Anderson's been and gone. There's no one and nothing to interrupt us."
Shepard just managed to hold onto her laughter as James blinked at her, mouth half-open. He was thinking about it, judging from the way his eyes raked across her body, but for all his flirtations, she knew he was a romantic at heart. Screwing in the middle of the day, in Shepard's cell, on over-starched Alliance sheets, was far from his ideal for a first time. She didn't hold the same fanciful notions, but she wasn't going to begrudge him his.
He stared at her, and she stared back, allowing the silence to drag on.
"Relax, James," she said, taking pity on him and finally allowing herself to let out her laughter. "I'm not going to wrestle your chastity belt off you."
James scowled and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I don't have a chastity belt. I just–"
"Want rose petals on the bed and candles and soft music. I know," she said, and got up off the bed.
His scowl was still on his face, but his eyes practically burned the clothes off her body as she walked towards him. "When was the last time someone told you that you're an asshole, Shepard?"
"You, before you left." She raised herself up on the balls of her feet to give him a quick kiss.
She intended for it to be a quick kiss, anyway.
James's hands captured her face to keep her from breaking the kiss—not that she had any intention to now. She smiled and let her eyes drift closed. His calloused fingers slid across her cheeks to tangle in her hair, tugging her head further back and teasing her lips open with his tongue. He tasted of coffee and smelled of decon cycle.
Her hands rested on his hips, fingertips teasing the edge of his shirt before creeping up underneath. His skin jumped at the touch of her cold fingers. She'd missed this, missed him. Her finger ghosted across a scar he wouldn't talk about. It must have meant something as he hadn't gotten it erased with skin grafts.
One of his hands unwound from her hair to leave a trail of electricity down her back. A shiver ran through her body and made her toes curl. His hand stopped at the small of her back and hauled her against him from thigh to lips. Her hands skittered away from the scar and she raked her blunt nails against his lower back in protest. He made a little sound of pleasure, his arousal pressed against her. A molten lance of desire shot straight to her core.
When he did break the kiss, it was only to trail his lips along her jaw. Another tug of her hair and the expanse of pale, unblemished skin of her neck was his. Each kiss felt like the buzz of pent-up biotics. Her head felt fuzzy but she had no desire to open her eyes and be reminded she was in a cell. Her hands gripped him as if she might topple over if she didn't hold on.
"Keep going and you might have to abandon your romantic plans," she managed to say through a moan.
"You can't keep your pants on until tonight?" he murmured against her neck.
"Tonight?" She didn't register the implications of his words. Her mind automatically reached for the first smartass comment that lurched out of her lust-fogged brain. "I'll have to check my schedule. I'm pretty busy staring at ceilings these days."
James pulled away just enough to look at her, but didn't release her from his arms. A smirk spread across his moist lips. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you'll be staring at a ceiling at some point."
Shepard blinked as her clearing brain tried to make sense of his sentence, then she burst out laughing. She wished she had a good reply, but she was still too distracted by the insistent bulge pressed against her.
He kissed the tip of her nose, making her wrinkle it up in response, and he let go of her. "I actually only dropped by to tell you I was back. I have stuff to do, but I'll be back at dinner."
"Dinner with real food?" she asked, eyes wide with hope.
"With lots of real food, cooked by my abuela herself." Shepard gave him a blank look. "My gran."
Oh, right. Her omnitool had been deactivated again, and that meant her translator was off too.
"I'm looking forward to real food," she said with a happy sigh. The food in the detention centre was even worse than the food on the Normandy after Garner had left with the rest of the ex-Cerberus crew.
"Not looking forward to the other thing?" he asked, pretending to be offended.
Shepard shook her head. "Food first. Always food first."
"Greedy biotics," he said with a roll of his eyes.
He dropped a final kiss on her forehead and left.
This was the first detention centre Shepard had been locked up in, but she guessed they weren't all like this. No guard interrupted her and James that evening to make sure she hadn't disappeared. No cameras watched as she sat across from James at her tiny table, eating something spicy that she couldn't pronounce. No hidden microphones recorded them alternating between flirting with and teasing each other. For the first time, she was glad she had no responsibilities or omnitool or vid channels to distract her from enjoying herself.
"So, where were you the past week?" she asked, waving her fork at him.
"Camp Pendleton," he said, shovelling food into his mouth.
The short answer and mouthful of food was James's way of saying he didn't want to talk about something. Tonight, she decided to let him keep his secrets.
She placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her upturned palm, staring out the window. After James had left earlier, Shepard had moved her table next to the window. The setting sun bathed her room in soft light, and the clouds hung like pink and orange pillows against a purple sky. The buildings around them and the distant houses twinkled as people started turning their lights on. Shepard couldn't remember the last time she'd sat down for dinner with something so pretty to look at, without work nudging her to hurry up.
"Are you done?"
"There's still some left. I can eat," she said, nodding her head at the half-full platter in between their empty plates.
"You can always eat." James plucked the fork from her fingers and dropped it on the table. "Don't worry, the dish tastes good cold. I want dessert now."
From his lopsided smile and the spark in his eye, he wasn't referring to anything like ice cream or pie.
Shepard chuckled as he stood. "Where are the rose petals and candles?"
"They got confiscated," he said, stepping around the table and standing over her.
She tilted her head up to look at him as he leaned down. He tucked a lock of her fiery red hair behind her ear and her stomach did an embarrassing flip at the tender gesture.
"Besarte es como ver las estrellas."
"I don't have a translator, remember?"
"It's too cheesy in English anyway," he said, lips brushing hers as he spoke.
Shepard answered by curling her hand around the back of her neck and pulling him down to kiss her fully.
The door beeped and James shot up out of her grasp. He turned and, at the sight of Anderson, stood to attention, all but smacking his hand to his forehead in a salute. Shepard pursed her lips and glared at the admiral as he stepped into the room and let the door close behind him.
Anderson looked from the table set for two, to James's red face, and then to Shepard's scowl. "Am I interrupting?"
"No, sir."
"Yes," said Shepard at the same time, flopping back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest.
"Councillor Udina contacted me," said Anderson, and Shepard sat up straight again, her hands balled into fists on her knees. Anderson's gaze flickered to James, and Shepard gave a small nod that whatever Anderson had to say, he could say before James. "The batarians are calling the destruction of the Alpha Relay an act of war and have mobilised their fleets to the Harsa relay in their home system. The Council doesn't want another war, and neither does the Alliance."
A tic in Anderson's cheek started, and Shepard felt prickles across her body. That tic had been there when Anderson had caught her drunk on duty soon after she'd joined the SSV Tokyo, when he'd watched the ground feed from Eden Prime, when he'd seen Shepard walk into his office with Cerberus operatives trailing behind her.
She licked her dry lips and willed her heart to slow. "And?"
"The batarians want you charged with genocide and handed over to them. The Council wants it downgraded to mass murder with you tried under Alliance military law." Anderson ran a hand over his head and sighed. "The Alliance hasn't agreed to anything."
James was silent, but his hand dropped to rest against the back of her neck. Apparently, saving the Council was good for something if they weren't willing to hand her to the batarians. She already knew the Alliance no longer trusted her, though.
"What happens if they do decide to court-martial me and I'm found guilty?" she asked, glad her voice didn't betray the choking dread inside her.
"Labour camp for life."
Shepard's fingernails dug into her palms, the only outward sign of her distress hidden out sight under the table. Her chest felt tight. She took a few deep breaths to try and rid herself of the sensation.
"With all the batarians in them already, she'd be lucky to last a week," said James, who didn't bother to hide the anger in his clipped words.
Anderson nodded at James and looked back at Shepard. "And your death wouldn't be quick either."
Seemed like no matter what happened, the batarians would get her after all.
A/N: This is the sequel to Precipice, but it's not necessary that you read that first (it would be awesome if you did though XD). Anything referred to in this fic from Precipice will get a quick explanation, so you won't be left completely in the dark.
Thank you to agrivex AO3/dismalniece tumblr for being my awesome beta yet again! Go read her stuff too :)