She made believe everything was fine until she got the letter. Even after Kaidan had disappointed her so much Horizon, she still thought that he had simply been acting rash. People were allowed to get upset. He reacted emotionally after seeing a supposed dead woman alive two years later, and she could understand that. It still hurt, but she wasn't angry with him. Joker had teased her about it—he had been afraid of her mood if things had gone pear shaped—but she surprised herself with the amount of peace she felt over the entire thing.
Until she got the letter.
It inspired a roller coaster of emotions. The first sentence was a relief, washing over her like a cool wave, easing tension she didn't know she had. But, as she continued...
She thought she could still understand. The letter was still a way to vent. But—and she felt selfish for thinking this—what about her? He started off the letter with an apology, an ethical appeal to get her to think he was a good guy, and then he launched into pathos.
It wasn't just that she was an excellent soldier that made her a good commander. It was her command of language, her ability to control a situation through words before it escalated into violence. Sometimes she was able to prevent it from escalating into violence. Those were the moments she was most proud of.
And as she read through Kaidan's letter, watching him use his guilt against her, using Ilos against her, doubting her, placing his future happiness on the aptitude of her future performance, but completely disregarding her happiness, saying that he cared for her but not caring enough to stand by her side, or even to allow her a voice...
Well, she got a little angry.
It was a rare moment to witness the Normandy's commander lose control over her emotions, and as she slammed the terminal shut on the CIC deck, she knew she had more than a few pairs of eyes on her. She mentally cursed herself for reading the message out in the open, avoided Kelly's concerned gaze and headed toward the elevator. Her first thought was to go to her cabin—she could rage all she wanted in there—but she stopped herself.
No.
She would not allow this letter to get to her. Kaidan may or may not have meant his communication to burrow its way under her skin like this, but it had, and regardless of intent, she was not going to let it affect her. She certainly wasn't going to storm up to her room and pout.
She ended up on the crew deck instead, throwing together a salad for herself and angrily spearing vegetables as if each one was Kaidan's head. She supposed that what made her angriest was that his guilt trip against her worked. She felt incredibly guilty. But for what? She knew she could have contacted him when she regained consciousness, and had thought about it, but she was... afraid.
It wasn't just him that was confused by the turn of events. Everything was so different now. The galaxy wasn't how she remembered it—the same in some ways, but unnaturally different in others. The people that she felt would stand by her through anything had left—barring Garrus and Joker. She was afraid Kaidan had left her too. Two years is a long time to pine after a dead woman. What if he had moved on? What if what seemed like only moments for her had stretched too long for him?
She had admittedly taken a coward's path. When the Illusive Man told her that Kaidan was on Horizon, she rationalized it away, thinking that she would just talk to him there. But it had not turned out exactly as she had planned.
His accusations had hurt because they were true. But even if they were, even if she was in the wrong, it was a two way street. He denied her the chance to explain herself, used his guilt and grief as a weapon. And so she felt safe in relishing her anger for the moment.
She felt more than heard someone approach. The scent of evergreens hit her nose, and she glanced up to see Thane, holding a cup of steaming tea. "Krios." She nodded at him. "How are you acclimating?"
She had picked him up only a week ago, and she was still getting used to his alien expressions. His eye lids flicked. "I am well, thank you. May I join you, Commander?"
She nodded at the place in front of her and impaled another cucumber. "There's plenty of room."
They sat in silence for a few moments, Shepard slowly chewing and Thane taking cautious sips of his drink. It was a comfortable silence, one that Shepard was glad to allow to continue. Thane was a man who made one comfortable with his presence without being overwhelming. She wondered if it was because he was a drell, an assassin, or just because he was him.
Jacob had made his feelings clear on the matter. He did not trust assassins. That was fine; she was not entirely sure if she trusted the drell either. Trust came slowly to her. But, Thane had proved himself in battle in the short week he had been here, and he had stayed quiet and unobtrusive. That alone made him fine in her book. Perhaps not entirely trustworthy, but still fine.
His voice startled her thoughts. "I apologize in advance if I am being too forward, Commander. But, I wonder if everything is well with you? Has something gone wrong with the mission?"
The vegetables betrayed her. "No, Krios, everything is fine with the mission. At least, as fine as things can be." She flashed him a quick smile that felt weak even to her. "It's nothing that you need to worry about."
"Ah." His dark eyes seemed to drink her in, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She felt as if he were compartmentalizing her—sectioning her off and cataloging each bit. "Well." He said softly. "I hope your situation improves."
"It's of such little importance that it doesn't matter." She lay her fork on the table and decided to change the subject. "The crew is treating you well, I assume?"
"Yes." He leaned back in his chair a bit, hands wrapped around his mug. "I still sense some discomfort, but that is to be expected. I am not here to make friends, but I believe with time the crew as a whole will come to accept me. It is hard to do otherwise in a situation where so many of your crew mates were unknowns only a few months ago. It is almost necessary."
"Mmm." She mirrored his posture, leaning back in her chair, running a hand through her short red hair. "That's a very mature attitude to have."
"Would you expect otherwise?" Thane looked at her with his eye ridges raised, and Shepard wondered what that meant.
"I merely mean that with new crew members, one can never be truly sure what to expect. I'm glad that things are going so smoothly."
A ghost of a smile graced his lips. "As am I." He brought the cup to his mouth again and took another guarded sip.
The smell of evergreens pressed in on her. "Is that your drink?" He gave her a curious look. "The smell, I mean."
"The smell?" He sat the cup down on the table and pushed it toward her. "I am not certain. Is it?"
She took the mug in both hands, bringing it to her nose and inhaling deeply. "Yes." She let out a small sigh. "It smells like a forest."
"Indeed?" He rumbled, wide eyes suddenly half closed. What were all these expressions? What did they all mean? "Forests have many smells. Describe it to me."
How to describe a scent? "Well, you can smell it yourself, right?"
"I doubt our olfactory senses are the same. Tell me, Shepard."
"It's... pine trees. Hints of cedar." Her expression became hooded, countenance shadowed in a distant memory. "That sharp smell in the morning when the mists are still on the ground. It's like everything's waking up, stretching. You can smell the moisture, the cold, and it almost burns your lungs with the intense feeling of life. You can taste the scent—the bitterness that makes you want to recoil and the tangible shock of green that makes you want to bury yourself in a nest of boughs."
She blinked. His eyes were nearly closed, and again she felt rather than heard him—a distant murmur like hearing the sea but not seeing it. "Sorry. That probably made no sense." She pushed the mug back over to him.
His eyes opened wide. "On the contrary, Shepard, it made perfect sense." He took the mug up, cradled in both hands like a chalice, and inhaled deeply. "Thank you."
A/N: I haven't written anything creative in awhile. I've been too busy with school. But I had some ideas, and they wouldn't leave me. I'd like a beta, perhaps, to get me back on track. I'll need someone who's quick to catch erroneous details-I'm notorious for letting an idea running away from me and rewriting canon without even noticing. Anyone up for it?