Kaidan isn't supposed to be here.
By now, he should be miles away, seated on a shuttle as it flies into the rising sun. In a couple hours, he should be arriving at his parent's home, being welcomed with hugs and beer and playful jests. He should be somewhere warm, somewhere comfortable, somewhere private, surrounded by people he loves.
Instead he finds himself standing as one in a sea of many, awash in a crowd of hushed whispers and seething accusations. They shift and bustle around him, every one of them vying for a spot near the front, clamoring for a better view. His skin crawls as they bump into him, their words berate his eardrums.
Three-hundred thousand, he hears.
She was crazy from the start, they sneer. First the council, now this.
Murderer.
Part of him understands. News of the Bahak system's destruction travelled fast. An entire system, a mass relay, over 300,000 Batarian lives lost and thousands more displaced in the blink of an eye. For several days, the galaxy was in the dark as to how such a tragedy could have occured.
When the story leaked that Commander Shepard, previously dead, rogue Spectre, was responsible, Kaidan had gone to Anderson, to Hackett, desperate for information, and had received nothing. To both him and all media outlets, the Alliance would issue no comment, hiding behind the guise of classified information. And when Kaidan had learned that Shepard would be turning herself in on this day, he had cancelled his shore leave immediately.
Kaidan didn't know what he had been hoping for, putting himself on site when she arrived. Perhaps he hoped he would see her, that he would speak to her, that she would explain everything and that he would be willing to listen, that he could help.
Standing there now, he only feels like part of the problem. As if being part of the crowd makes him one of them, one of the hundreds gathered to partake in a public spectacle.
A hand falls on his shoulder.
"You shouldn't be here, son." Anderson's voice is quiet, only loud enough to reach him over the noise of the crowd. He sounds tired. Distracted. Distressed.
Kaidan glances over his shoulder at the man, whose face looks as worn and pale as Kaidan imagines his own looks. But there's a heavy look in his eye that captures Kaidan's attention. A knowing look, almost disappointed by his presence. And Kaidan feels his stomach drop upon realizing why.
Shepard's arrival and his departure happening on the same day was no coincidence.
Kaidan thought to open his mouth, but suddenly, the seas parted, and Kaidan's eyes snap forward.
Beside him, reporters start to scramble, camera drones whirr to life, microphones are thrust into the barricaded aisle, accusations are shouted.
It's chaos.
And through the center of it all walks Shepard.
Shepard, with her golden hair gathered haphazardly atop her head, rogue strands plastered to her neck and forehead with perspiration. Shepard, with arms bound behind her back, her ankles shackled, looking more exposed, more vulnerable, than he had ever seen in even their most tender moments together. Shepard, with guards at her back, guns at the ready, fingertips twitching and eyes darting, waiting for a reason.
For the second time, Kaidan can't believe the woman he's looking at is truly Shepard.
Scars mar paled skin, cutting jagged lines across her face like cracked glass. They glow orange and angry, harsh even in the hazy light of dawn, as if all the rage she kept within had finally boiled over and cracked her cool exterior. With all that rage vented, she looks empty. Deflated.
Her lip is split, her mouth swollen, and her gait stiff, moving slow and careful in an attempt to hide her lameness. Her eyes are wide, but unseeing, and as she draws near, Kaidan can see the dark circles beneath sunken, bloodshot eyes. Her pupils constricted so tightly he's not sure she would notice if he stood directly in front of her. It's an expression he's seen too many times. One that makes his stomach tighten upon recognizing it on Shepard.
It's the look of exhaustion, one that only comes after too many hours spent fearing for your life. It's a look of terror one only wears after taking too many lives in an effort to save your own. It's being unable to see what's before you because you can't stop replaying what just happened. Because you're not sure you're done, that you're out, that you're still alive.
As she marches past him, it takes all he has not to reach out for her.
The hand on Kaidan's shoulder tightens its grip, but he can't peel his eyes off Shepard's back.
Around them, the crowd is already dissipating, shuffling off back to their normal lives as if seeing Shepard like that hadn't affected them one bit. Of course, it hadn't. No one else knew her like Kaidan did.
"We should go."
Shouldn't be here. Should go.
Kaidan felt his temper flare at the word.
Shepard shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be here. Shepard never should have gone to work for Cerberus, never should have died. The council shouldn't have ignored the reaper threat, shouldn't have sent them off hunting geth. He never should have gotten involved with his commanding officer. Never should have fallen in love with her. Never should have left her.
"Come on, son." Anderson tries to pull him around, but Kaidan shrugs him off.
Kaidan doesn't have to say a word for Anderson to understand that he's not going anywhere, not yet. Instead the admiral sighs and Kaidan knows this is exactly what he had been hoping to avoid by sending him on shore leave for Shepard's arrival.
"I'll let you know when she's been debriefed. In the meantime, try not to do anything stupid, Major."
Kaidan almost laughs.
The stupidest thing he'd ever done is leave Shepard in her time of need, and he had no choice but to make that mistake again.