This was the first story I'd ever written and posted, but it needed a lot of work. I am currently rewriting it and will post the chapters as I complete them.
The cloudless blue sky stretched as far as the eye could see, heavy with the sweet scent of fresh fruits and lush foliage, but not overwhelmingly so; the salty breeze across the bodies of water cut the sweetness and yet, somehow, made it more perfect. The waves rolled, crashing against the shores; the steady rhythm the primal heartbeat of the planet. Everything moved to this beat, slow and steady, and created beautiful, natural music that somehow eased the most stressed minds. The warm, butter yellow sun reflected off the pool water, dancing in time with the rippling waves in brilliant flashes of light that twinkled across the stone walls and vibrant flowering plants strategically placed along the deck to create the feeling of privacy for each visitor. Elysium was every bit as beautiful as the travel vids and Jenna had promised, but none of that really seemed to matter. Shepard was completely miserable.
Shepard was a spacer, born and raised on alliance vessels, and all this fresh air and sunshine was hard to adjust to. That alone she could handle, eventually. It wasn't like she'd never been on Earth, or any 'resort' planet. It didn't matter, though. Every single thing about this trip pissed her off. Shepard sighed dramatically, the sound echoing off her little alcove only adding to her irritation. She ground her teeth, the tensing of her jaw making her head ache. It was the perfect storm of misery. From her perch under a gaudy sunshade in an uncomfortable lounge chair with the straps digging in to her exposed flesh, she watched her friend devolve into a helpless giggling girl hanging from a local guy's neck. It was enough to make her want to gag. And she didn't even want to be here in the first place.
Word came down from the top brass that Shepard was 'strongly encouraged' to take the shore leave she'd been putting off for the past year. Both of her parent's fingerprints were all over this one, but there was no proof, no appeals, and no getting out of it. Her friend and crewmate, Corporal Jenna Morgan, was there when she got the orders, and jumped at the chance to play travel agent as long as she could tag along. It sounded like a fair trade, so she agreed and Jenna handled every minute detail. It was nice not having to plan everything, to just show up when told. From the very beginning, Shepard had only one demand: they travel under aliases. She just wanted to be able to leave shore leave completely behind them once it was over – a 'what happens on Elysium, stays on Elysium' mentality. It was a lot harder for a one-night-stand to find you if they were going off a fake name and altered appearance. It was also easier to keep feelings completely out of it if you knew it was just a fling. That was all Shepard wanted. Jenna jumped at the idea, seeing it as a way to live out some fantasy or something. Her motivation really didn't matter, as long as the feelings behind it were honored. She readily agreed and handled that part as well, but Shepard now regretted giving her friend total control. Jenna had a way of taking things too far.
The outfit currently crisscrossing Shepard's body was proof of that. Little more than thin strips of some shiny red fabric, the 'swimsuit' was like nothing she'd ever worn before – or even considered. In fact, Shepard laughed when the ribbons of material were originally thrust in her face. She couldn't tell what it was supposed to be (as it looked like a gift passed through a shredder) let alone how she was supposed to tangle herself in the thin straps and be able to breathe without showing her goods to everyone. However, Jenna argued that was the point; it was something Shepard would never wear, so it would fit her alter-ego perfectly. They'd already changed Shepard's bright red hair to a golden blonde for the trip, so backing down now would just be silly. Besides, the color looked great against her creamy complexion but she'd never be able to pull it off as a redhead, and her body would only defy gravity for so long. It was the only time she'd get away with such a bold bathing suit – a now or never kind of deal. Jenna sighed dramatically when Shepard chose never, and somehow Jenna managed to win. Something neither of them considered as they wrestled Shepard's lithe frame into the sorry excuse for a garment was the sun's effects on all that exposed spacer skin.
The giant umbrella overhead seemed to be doing next to nothing to protect her fair skin from the hot, powerful rays. She'd already learned the hard way that sunscreen alone was not enough for her spacer complexion, so this was the best solution aside from staying indoors completely, which she'd argued vehemently for. Unfortunately, Jenna was rather persuasive when she wanted to be, and loud and whiny when that didn't work. The end result was the same – Shepard was stuck on the pool deck, doing her best to avoid impersonating a lobster (which was a frighteningly evil looking creature Jenna unsuccessfully tried to convince her to eat). The last thing she needed was for her skin to match the straps of shiny red fabric that was passing for a bathing suit. It was skimpy enough as it was. There was no need to have it blend in completely and make her look as utterly exposed as she felt.
Discomfort briefly interrupted Shepard's gloomy ruminations. She shifted in an attempt to free her exposed flesh from the lounge chair, which seemed to be doing its best to fuse with her; two separate objects made one in an unholy union straight from the depths of hell. Either that or the chair was trying to devour her whole. She wasn't certain which option was correct, but she was pretty sure the answer laid at the bottom of another bottle of beer.
Unfortunately, several trays within the alcove were bare, as was the cooler. A small city of towers made entirely of empty bottles covered the stone patio to her side, but she was still completely and frustratingly sober.
"Figures," Shepard mumbled to herself as she slammed the cooler lid. "This is why I hate shore leave."
"Did you need something?" A tall, shapely asari paused at the foot of Shepard's chair.
"Sorry, I was just lamenting the fact that my drinks ran dry." Shepard forced a smile as she answered. It was difficult, considering how acutely aware she was that her suit left less to the imagination than the scantily-clad (and almost embarrassingly well-endowed) azure waitress in front of her.
"Now that's a problem I can fix," the asari assured. "Your dates have a running tab and told us to take care of everything."
Shepard wasn't completely surprised by that revelation; the local guys they'd paired up with plied them with alcohol all weekend. She'd gotten the impression that this was part of their gig – children of rich locals picking up lonely tourists and showing them a good time. Either that or they were in for the long-haul con, considering the small fortune they'd already laid down on drinks. They'd bought round upon round to get her and Jenna drunk just since they'd been at the pool, but Shepard's biotic metabolism burned it off before she could so much as get a buzz.
"Here you go dear. This should just about do it for you," the waitress winked as she set a fully-loaded tray on the table.
A small thrill (or was it panic?) shot through Shepard. The waitress understood her need and wordlessly took care of it without outing her. The entire time they'd been on leave Shepard kept pace with the others so nobody would even suspect she was a biotic – a freak. That was how most others saw biotics. As a result, she did everything in her power to fit in, to hide her true nature. The last person who knew – the only person aside from her immediate family and her best friend, Joker – yelled that insult at her as he threw her out and ended their relationship. There was no hiding from other biotics, though. The waitress was proof of that.
Shepard lifted her wrist, desperate for a distraction. She had to find something, anything, to keep her mind from wandering into that dark territory. Waking up Joker was a perfect solution, especially since he failed to back her up in her fight against shore leave, but rather sided with her parents for once. He should be held at least partially responsible.
Her wrist was empty. As empty as she felt. That's when she remembered: they'd left all their electronics back in the safety of their locked room. And now she was left with nothing but her thoughts.
She threw herself back against the lounge chair with a dramatic sigh. There was no escape for her. Everywhere she looked the faces of content couples stared back, taunting her. It was the one thing she feared the most – the one reason she'd avoided shore leave for so long. She wasn't ready to face this torment. The wounds were too fresh.
Hell, even Jenna was guilty. The whole concept of 'one night stand' was lost on the brunette, who continued to giggle and shriek from the deep end of the pool. The two local guys they picked up at a swanky bar their first night ashore had been a constant presence ever since. Shepard didn't even know their names, and really didn't care enough to find out. As far as she was concerned, their time together was done. Both the men sensed that and had written her off anyway. To be fair, she had nearly broken the tall guy's nose when he tried to carry her to the pool. However, that was after he'd pulled her onto his lap several times and announced he was going to get her wet one way or another. He had it coming. So now both men focused their attention on Jenna, vying for her affection.
So Shepard sat in an uncomfortable chair under the umbrella, alone as usual. At least she had enough drinks to render the average man unconscious to keep her company. But they couldn't stop her thoughts. And so her mind went the one place she dreaded most.
Bags at her feet, hand hovering over the hotel room door, butterflies danced in Shepard's stomach. Months of planning finally came to fruition. They'd somehow managed to steal a little time away to be together, just the two of them. The door slid open of its own accord, before she was prepared. There he stood. His mocha skin and dark eyes noticeably warmed the air with his mere presence. Or maybe it was just the flush that crept up her skin at the sight of him. Their eyes locked. Shepard's heart pounded until she was sure it would escape. It had been months since they'd even managed to hear one another's voices; pictures and messages had gotten them through, but they'd been a sorry substitute. Their bodies quivered in anticipation. Being this close and not touching was too much. Passion overtook them. Shepard's body tingled with need, her biotics barely under control as their bodies crushed together over the threshold.
Simon swept Shepard into his arms and carried her to the bed, unwilling and unable to wait a moment longer. They were lost in the moment, rediscovering one another. The world ceased to exist. Then it happened: she flared. It was nothing more than a soft blue light dancing across her bare flesh, like steam off hot pavement after a storm and equally innocuous. It was simply a manifestation of her joy and passion. But it was too much.
Simon's face contorted with fear. All the promises of loving her no matter what, of understanding and accepting 'her condition' flew out the door the moment he faced the reality of her biotics. He pushed her aside with enough force to knock the air from her lungs as she hit the floor. He vanished before she even gained her feet.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you, but I was in total control," she cried through the door.
The sounds of retching were his only response. He was so disgusted by her very nature he got violently, physically ill. Nothing said or done to her up to that point rivaled the pain that welled in her heart from that primal reaction. That hurt more than she'd ever been hurt before.
The sobs started from deep within, emerging from her very core. There was no resistance. They were stronger than she was.
"I'd never hurt you," she choked out between her tears, but there was no answer. She lay prone on the floor, the sobs wracking her frame until her strength left her completely.
The door finally swung open after what felt like forever. All sense of time had been lost. Simon emerged fully dressed in his Alliance blues. His dark eyes fell on her naked frame silently shaking at his feet on the cold, tiled floor.
"Get out, freak," he hissed at her, voice hard and cold. He spit at her, the wet droplets splattering across her face and blending with her tears, and then left the room.
Shepard jumped. The drink dropped from her hand and shattered on the stones, the mere memory of the door closing behind Simon still eliciting an immediate physical response after so much time. It was so harsh, so final. He'd requested transfer, so as to be as far away from Shepard as humanly possible, and it was granted. He was placed as security for a small research facility deep in the Skillian Verge and it was attacked by Blue Suns not long after the transfer. There were no survivors.
That memory of her last shore leave was all she had left of the only man she'd loved, and it haunted her.
And there it was, the reason she avoided anything more than an anonymous fling, the reason she avoided shore leave all together. And now she was forced to face her demons alone and sober. The ridiculously large sunglasses perched on Shepard's nose hid the tears gathering in her eyes, threatening to spill over. In that moment Shepard hated everyone. She hated Simon for making her feel so humiliated, so unlovable. She hated her parents and Joker for pushing her to take shore leave. She hated the happy couples enjoying Elysium's beauty while she suffered. She hated Jenna for leaving her alone, for being so loveable to others. But most of all, Shepard hated herself. At least she was comfortably numb, thanks to the waitress. She had to be thankful for the little things.
Shepard grabbed another drink from the tray, unwilling to face everything sober if at all possible. Her eyes drifted over to her friend playing in the pool as she took a long gulp of the bitter drink – almost as bitter as she felt. Jenna laughed without a care in the world, the joyous sound free and melodic. Jealousy washed over Shepard in sickening waves.
Jenna didn't stick to the plan and ditch the guys after the first night because she didn't have to. She could let people get close, and people wanted to get close. She was open and real. She had nothing to fear, nothing to hide. Everything was so easy for her.
Shepard's skin began to tingle as the petty thoughts swam through her head. Her biotics had been pent up for far too long – ever since that fateful night, in fact. They were looking for any crack in her resolve through which to escape, and the combination of jealousy and alcohol were a good start. She glanced around frantically to see who noticed. Fortunately, it was a sunny day and everyone was occupied with their own fun. Her little light show didn't attract so much as a fleeting look. Relieved, she took a deep, cleansing breath and felt the tell-tale loosening of her muscles.
"About time the booze kicked in," Shepard muttered as she leaned back and got as comfortable as possible. She upended her drink, draining it in one gulp as she tried to relax. The ambient noises, the shrieks, splashes, and giggles, combined to form a buzz of white noise. It should've been the perfect background for a drink-fueled nap, but it wouldn't work. There was something off, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. The alcohol clouded her mind so she couldn't concentrate enough to figure it out. She didn't want to. The warmth, combined with the alcohol finally pulled at her. Sleep beckoned, and she gladly followed. She could escape into her dreams, if nothing else.
Everything snapped into focus. The shrieks… they were real. She knew that sound anywhere. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, burning off the alcohol and leaving her sharp and focused, her training kicking in like second nature.
Something was wrong.