This is something I wrote to pass the time at my dad's work today. Apologies if it seems incomplete, but I thought it was an interesting idea.

Command: Review, or I shall find you through Google, who knows all. *mysterious voice*

-ArenKae

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Anderson couldn't help the shiver of disgust—of himself, of politics, of his whole damned career. He'd stood by stoically as he watched his career, his life, unravel before his eyes like a damaged tapestry, taken down by the ferocious backroom politics that took place even in light of some of the best news humanity had ever known: humans finally had a Spectre, and he was abandoned, hung out to dry shuffling papers until… until things cooled down.

He cast another appreciative glance alongside the streamlined hull of the Normandy, wishing now more than ever that he had the guts to face his old crew and tell them exactly what happened. But no, he was a coward—their notice would come soon, and they were smart enough to read between the lines. No, talking to them would do nothing but satisfy an old man's good dream that was gradually coming to an end.

Shuffling papers… 'assistant advisor on military matters…' He thought savagely.

It was made all the worse because he understood. He knew why Udina had to do it. It was only logical: Commander Shepard was proving to be better for humanity's chances of expansion than he himself would ever be. He'd had his chance, and Saren had damned near screwed his chances for just about any more advancement in his career—even now, twenty years later, he'd taken it away from him.

This was crossing the line. Saren had to be stopped. From the moment Udina hinted that Anderson might have to resign his post, Anderson knew he was capable of wanton murder.

He'd taken a short leave of absence, walking around the Wards and hanging out in Flux to get his head around it, and then he'd been called back by the ambassador to learn that Shepard had assaulted Chora's Den in an all-out firefight. He'd been there to watch the quarian, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, give evidence proving Saren's guilt, and he was there to watch Shepard become a Spectre.

And now he was here, at the docks with Udina, waiting for Shepard to come up that elevator and remove him thoroughly from the life he had once led.

He held back a sigh—Udina knew he was frustrated, but it wouldn't do to advertise it. It wasn't Shepard's fault, and it wasn't Udina's, no matter how much he despised the man on profession alone.

Shepard wasn't like Udina, though—she knew what needed to be done and held enough of the right traits to do it. He liked her a lot on a professional level, doubly so on a personal one—she was smart, resourceful, and, when you got past the tough mental barriers she'd surrounded herself with, a pleasant woman to deal with. She didn't have much patience with regs or procedure (a main reason, she'd said, that she never joined any legalized form of law enforcement) and she'd had her own share of tough battles in the past. He wouldn't have minded serving under her.

Udina's beeper rang. He glanced at it and nodded. "She's on her way up," Udina reported. Anderson wondered who he bribed this time to get an advance notice. He gave Anderson a pointed look, as if he knew he was thinking just that. "Don't make this harder than this needs to be, Anderson," he warned.

"I have no intention of doing that, Ambassador," Anderson replied stiffly. Through the corner of his eye, he saw the elevator that brought them to Docking Bay 322 disappear. But if you keep reminding me I just might.

They spoke no more, but Udina kept staring at him, proving to his own convoluted ego that he was, in his mind, the big dog. He didn't want Anderson to forget it. He met his gaze head-on, keeping himself relaxed and his back ramrod straight. "Was there something more?" he hedged, allowing a bit of his frustration to break through.

"Your attitude," Udina said shortly. "Lose it. This is beyond our control."

Beyond mine, you mean.

He didn't really know what it really was he had against Udina besides the fact that his very personality was the type to curdle milk. Maybe it was the general air of wrongness that hung around him like a cloud, or his scent; he'd tried hard, real hard, not to smell any of the politicians he worked with, but it was hard, very hard, not to notice the sharp, bitter odor that came out of his mouth and threatened to choke you when you breathed it in.

He'd made it a priority not to get too close to him after the first time.

Before he could respond, he heard steps on the docking bay flooring. Ashton Shepard, flanked by Tali and the krogan Wrex, approached them. She had her face carefully smoothed over, reacting to the stress she could invariably see in his shoulders.

Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Anderson.

He relaxed his shoulders and tried to mirror her expression; the worry-crease between her eyebrows deepened—obviously, she wasn't going to fall for it. Good. He hadn't meant for her to. "We have some news for you, Commander," Udina said, using his Politician's Voice and Politician's Look. "Captain Anderson has offered to step down as commanding officer of the Normandy."

"It's quick and quiet, and it'll get you just about anywhere," Anderson explained. "You know the crew, too, and they'll follow you through to the end."

"I don't understand," she said quietly. The impassive mask slipped, and he could see that she knew all too well what had happened. "Captain Anderson, are you coming with us?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Commander," Anderson said, throwing a covert glance at Udina. "Joint commands never work out—I'd be better on the ground for now."

Real anger, now, as much as she was willing to show. "I don't have a problem with your leadership."

Udina saved him from answering: "Anderson has consented to stay on as my personal advisor."

Shepard blinked for a moment, then nodded. "If that's what's best for the Alliance," she said slowly, trying to get a gauge for how Anderson felt on the matter. He nodded soberly. "Don't bog him down too much with the paperwork, Ambassador, or else he'll get fidgety."

Anderson felt the ice in him thaw, just a little bit. "I haven't been straight-up with you, Ashton," he said bluntly. "I was in your shoes about twenty years ago. They were considering me for the Spectres."

A usual example of Ashton Shepard stressing herself out was the sudden acceleration of blinks. He counted four. "And Saren happened." She said it as fact, not a question.

"They sent him to evaluate me," he said quietly, "and then did everything in his power to make sure that I was screwed in the end."

"That was back when Goyle was our ambassador, wasn't it?" she asked, brushing back a reddish-gold hair from her forehead and tucking it securely into her ponytail. Her eyes, a soft pleasing blue, were tight around the edges.

Anderson nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Basically."

There was a pregnant pause while Shepard looked away from them and from the Normandy, staring out into space. "I don't blame you for keeping that hidden, David," she said, surprising him. She glanced back at him. "Need to know basis."

He could only nod, relieved—and a little grateful—that she hadn't held it against him. On the Normandy and the ships before that, she'd been his closest confidant; he could remember a time, only hours before teaming with Saren, of having the same betrayed feelings from a withhold of information from a woman he trusted with his life. She called me David, too, he remembered.

He'd never taken on another girlfriend after his divorce all those years ago—it wasn't that any woman didn't hold attraction for him, but that his career was his wife and family. Wouldn't she be laughing now if she could see his situation? Shepard wasn't, thank God, but she understood better than his ex-wife had.

More times than not he'd been thinking lately that military women were both a blessing and a curse in his life—they understood him exactly, but that didn't stop the brass from moving them away from each other. He'd gotten close to two women, never on a real relationship level, and had drifted away from both just because of posting duty. It was damn hard to make anything work in the navy. Damn hard.

Yeah. She's probably laughing her ass off right now.

Udina was filling Shepard in on the specific mission details. Anderson kept track with the names: Liara T'Soni, geth, Feros, Artimis Tau regions, Noveria, Matriarch Benezia. All leads that had been cross-checked, triple-checked, and verified by a salarian STG slicer on loan from the Council member of the same species.

"If we kidnap the daughter, the asari shouldn't be a problem," the krogan, Wrex, rumbled. "Assuming she isn't like every other sadistic bastard out there."

"We need to decide quickly," Tali said soberly. "We're only running out of time."

"I need to get ready for a meeting with Binary Helix," Udina said, glancing at his watch. "Commander, don't make this hard on me."

"Have I ever?" she shot back.

The ambassador got right up close to her, and Anderson felt a ping of guilt when he noticed her nose wrinkle just the tiniest bit. "Just remember, Shepard, you were a human long before you were a Spectre. Anderson… you know the drill."

Meet me in my office later. Anderson could only glower at his departing back.

"Wrex, Tali, go ahead inside. Find Kaiden or Ashley," Shepard said, gesturing to the airlock. "This will only take a moment."

"Of course," Tali said, moving with unnerving grace for the sanitization chambers. Wrex merely grunted and followed.

Shepard sighed audibly when they passed through and took off her armored gloves. She and Anderson wandered over to the railings, watching the traffic. "I didn't imagine that this would be this difficult."

"Which part?" he asked.

"Leaving you out to dry with Udina."

His eyebrows rose. "You knew?"

"I knew he was planning something. He's always planning something."

Anderson sighed. "Yeah… I guess I knew it, too."

"It's not your fault," Shepard said sternly, looking over at him. "Look, it's just… a bad day. Once it's over, you'll be back. You'll have the most advanced warship in the fleet again."

"This entire mission makes me jumpy, Shepard," he said quietly. "I don't want to see you get hurt out there."

Shepard only snorted. "David, I'm more concerned about other people getting hurt in the process. If you haven't noticed, I can drill a moving target at four-hundred meters without a sweat."

"You also have the annoying knack to find trouble," he said dryly.

There was a long pause, where they just stared out into space and enjoyed in each other's company. "You worry about yourself," she said finally. "I can take care of things."

"I know you can," he said. "I suppose I'm just being overprotective of my crew members."

"Your girl's all grown up now, Captain," she said lightly, a smile stretching the burn-scar tight across her cheek. She turned to him, and he knew it was time for her to go. He was unashamed to hug her tight for a moment—it felt so different when she was the one wearing the armor this time—and even more unashamed when she patted his back and gave him an awkward kiss on the cheek. The place where her lips touched his bare skin burned pleasantly.

"Keep in touch," he said, refusing to say the goodbye that was on his lips.

"I'll be back," she promised. She gripped his arm tightly for a few quick seconds, gave him a rueful look, and turned on her heel.

She didn't look back, not once, and he forced himself to look away when the Normandy's engines lifted it away from the docking clamps. He closed his eyes and just stood there.

The last line of his old life had been cut, at least temporarily. Now it was just him, him and Udina.

He intended to make the best of it. The Normandy was in good hands.