Chapter 2: Bravado
A/N: Ah, notes? Thanks for the reviews, sweet ones. They're encouraging. I'll tag Liara on this since she's sort of in it- maybe more so next chapter? And there's still no way to tag Traynor. This was supposed to be a one shot. I cut out a lot of EDI jokes. Maybe from Traynor's POV in the next chapter? What do people think? I need to go pass out now.
"Commander!"
Shepard blinks. A quizzical Traynor stands before her. Shepard's unsure of how long she's been sitting on the Purgatory couch that's pocketed in darkness. Traynor holds a colorful neon drink, a bright pink straw jutting cheerfully from it.
"I don't mean to shout! But it is rather loud in here, isn't it? Can I sit down?" Traynor asks. When Shepard doesn't answer Traynor cups a hand around her mouth to ask again. Shepard scoots over and Traynor sits. "I think my eardrums are bleeding," she tells Shepard jovially, her voice still raised.
"Join the club."
"What?" Traynor shouts.
Shepard hadn't been counting on company, certainly not Traynor's. Shepard hadn't thought Traynor ever left the Normandy—though she's glad to see her outside of CIC. Shepard's stomach is a bundle of nerves—if Liara comes into Purgatory… Liara is finished with her. Does it matter if she sees them together? "It's loud," Shepard says.
Traynor nods and takes a drink. "Are you much for dancing?" she asks, searching the crowds and the small group of people that dance several feet from them. Shepard shakes her head. "That's too bad," she says disappointed, "but I think I'm going to have a go of it myself. I don't much get to show off at CIC, unless you count my mastery of quantum entanglements. But people my generation don't tend to be as wowed by that." She looks pitiful a moment before rising. "Watch my drink, will you? I'm cute, young and impressionable." She gives Shepard a coquettish, bashful smile and weaves into the crowd.
Shepard reclines against the couch. The throbbing in her head pulses with the beat of the music. The tenacious headache isn't helped by the volume of the music, yet Shepard can't make herself leave. It's easier to disappear in Purgatory. No one gives a damn about her here—all that matters is the beat, the drinks, the dancing.
Shepard doesn't watch the drink. She watches her. Traynor dances enthusiastically despite her movements lacking the refined sensuality of some of the asari or other more experienced dancers. Her face is a light in the darkness, not just strained desperation masked as joy. Traynor catches her watching and smiles. Shepard is momentarily at a loss.
Traynor's attention is soon captured by a salarian and an asari. Traynor's attentions are ensnared more so by the asari—though the casual observer wouldn't know it; she still laughs and leans forward, talking to the salarian. Shepard doesn't know what they talk about but the asari draws Traynor away.
Shepard sits awkwardly, unsure if the expectation is that she continue to watch the drink. A few minutes pass and Traynor returns, eyebrows arched incredulously. She drops beside Shepard. Her hair is disarrayed but that might have been the dancing. Shepard experiences a pang of jealousy. "Have fun?" she asks.
Traynor laughs awkwardly. "It takes me longer than that to have fun. Remember how I mentioned being cute, young and impressionable? I don't think I have the proper erm—prerequisites to have taken her up on her offer. I'm barely a zygote to her."
Shepard tilts her head, looking her over. "Are you blushing?"
"Don't tease me!" she slaps Shepard's leg playfully and picks up her drink, taking a sip. She looks at Shepard, adorably vexed. "Did you come here to hide? I went and ruined your plans, didn't I? I don't usually come to places like this," she mentions, "as I said, I used to spend most of my time in labs."
"I've spent some time in labs myself." Two years, to be exact. Traynor looks at her, questioning before the puzzled curiosity dissipates. "It's good that you left."
"It's better for us that you did." She finishes her drink and sets it on the table in front of them. "Have you… are things okay with you and…" she sweeps the room with her eyes. She looks at Shepard with another question before a couple falls to the couch beside them. The man and woman, Alliance soldiers, either don't know they're there or don't care. They maul each other on the couch, hands everywhere.
"Wow." Traynor whispers to Shepard. "Do you suppose they're madly in love? We're in public…!" she says the last as if Shepard might not know.
"They're scared," Shepard says with a gentle frown. "The news networks aren't airing much but enough is getting out. You don't have to see much of the Reapers to know that it doesn't look good." Shepard could do without seeing them as often. Even in her sleep she can't get away from them.
"Speaking of," Traynor begins, eyes narrowing thoughtfully, or with mild irritation, "what exactly does Diana Allers do? Have you seen her room? It's bloody amazing. I have to share a room with fifteen other crew and they snore. In the labs I at least got my own place. Not that I'm complaining," she adds quickly. "Anyway, I don't really know why she's onboard is all. Her reporting could use some work."
"Aren't you being a little harsh, Traynor?" Shepard asks. Traynor pouts. "Her reports may not be top notch like yours or Liara's but they get the job done. The galaxy needs to see what's happening."
"Maybe they should look out the window. I think she came to spy on you—not that I blame her; you're pretty cute. I know you're a bit of a paragon but…" Traynor stops, shakes her head. Shepard waits. "I wasgoing to say 'be careful' but given that you're the greatest soldier in the history of the galaxy—"
"That's not true," Shepard doesn't know why the words send her into a panic.
"And did I mention our only hope for salvation…?" She cuts her words off, looking at Shepard's face. She sucks on the straw of her previously discarded drink, rewarded only by hollow air noise, the drink already depleted. "Would it be terribly inappropriate if I asked my commanding officer to buy me a drink? And before you shoot me down, Vega already told me you bought him and some other Alliance soldiers a round."
"Vega thinks I have an unlimited credit account. I think you and I are past the point of appropriateness, Traynor."
Traynor pauses, lips parted with an unspoken question. Then she laughs. "Sorry, I couldn't hear you over all that backpedaling! Hey," Traynor stands. Her fingertips graze Shepard's wrist. "No pressure. Sometimes a drink is just a drink," she takes out a handful of credit chits, "it was wrong of me to ask… Given everything. Don't worry, Commander. This one's on me."
She's gone before she can protest. Shepard waits for her return but Traynor doesn't come back.
The end-result is that nearly all of Liara's theories about the Protheans were wrong. Javik dispenses his hard facts callously. Liara flinches every time another theory is undone. Javik is unmoved by her curiosity and unimpressed by any suggestion she might have. Liara seethes.
Javik walks past them both, unaware or uncaring of any tension within the group. "I've had enough of being around what's between the two of you," he says with more consternation than usual. He exits Liara's room, unmoved by another theory Liara thought might have helped in the building of the Crucible. Liara is crestfallen and angry.
"It's going to be okay," Shepard says.
"Sure it is. No thanks to him. The last of his kind… I wonder if they were all so charming." Liara says dryly. Shepard is still unused to her recently discovered sarcasm. Liara's turned to the computer console in front of her, ignoring Glyph who spews reports and questions at her. "Regardless, we have enough that the Crucible will be built. I just hope there's enough time. Was there something more, Shepard?"
Shepard holds her helmet at her side. Once again she's searching for words. It's been weeks since Liara found out. Has it been months? It has, somehow. Time is racing past them. The Reapers have advanced to terrifying levels. No one is unaffected. "Are you going to ignore me forever?" Liara turns to look at her. "I know you're angry."
"I am not." She shuffles and brings her fingers to her forehead, as if terribly bothered by Shepard's presence. "I was. But no more. It's finished, Shepard. I can't dwell on any heartbreak I may feel. It's been over two years since we were together and even then…" she shakes her head. "it wasn't for very long, was it? It was only… a small part of our lives."
Shepard frowns. A small part of their lives? Does Liara really feel that way? What about all the promises…? Shepard bites her tongue to keep from asking. She's the one who ruined it. "Why would you say that?"
"It's true. We were under so much stress. It's natural that we would seek to comfort each other. Perhaps it's the only reason. That's why years pass and we don't speak."
"I didn't contact you because I was dead. What was your excuse?" Shepard struggles to keep her voice steady. Liara looks at her sharply. Then she looks away, ashamed. "I know I hurt you. Maybe you'll never forgive me; maybe we'll never get past this. But I'd like to try."
"We won't get past this." Liara says matter-of-factly. Shepard's legs are weak. "I wouldn't like to try. Maybe I've been harder on you than I should have been. Maybe I've been distant… but I can't sacrifice what I'm doing for you. It's too important."
"We can't just forget everything that makes life matter. Everything that makes life worth living." She goes to her, looks at her but Liara won't face her. Shepard takes her arm. Liara keeps her head bowed. Shepard drops her helmet and takes Liara's shoulders, moving her. "Can't you even look at me? After all of this, don't I deserve at least that?"
Liara lifts her face to look at Shepard. There are tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Shepard. I know I haven't been perfect. All of this hurts. I can't forgive you. It's over between us. Let me work. Please, just let me focus on this so I don't have to think of anything else." Shepard's fingers dig brutally into Liara's arms. The air is trapped in her lungs. There's a long silence. Liara smiles sadly. "Samantha seems like a very sweet woman."
Shepard lets Liara go. She picks up her helmet from the floor and leaves before desperation takes control of her.
She dreams of scorched trees, branches stretched out like gnarled fingers, framing her like wisps of oily smoke. The forest is dead. Brown leaves decay in the hot, stale breeze. Yet everything is cold and void.
There are whispers. Darkness reigns. The only light is the fire that rains from the night sky. The boy is here. She can save him. If she can get to him. There's laughter. Is he okay…?
You can't help me.
No. She's nearly there. He's just out of reach. A light, razor sharp, red as blood cuts through the night, cuts through the forest shearing the night in half. She shields her eyes and the reaper is gone. The boy is here now, looking at her, burning. Burning. He's so young… She's failed.
Shepard gasps to a sitting. She looks around the cabin wildly. Her heart beats frantically. She's drenched in a cold sweat. Her head hurts. She clenches her fingers over her heart, alarmed at how the organ violently hammers at her chest. She squeezes her eyes shut but opens them just as quickly. She doesn't feel safe closing her eyes.
Will these nightmares ever go away?
Shepard's secluded herself in the lounge. Mordin's dead. The rare, small victories are tainted by loss and her failure. She should have done more. It's unfair that so much should ride on her judgment. She is only a soldier. Why doesn't anyone see that? She's had successes but she's had her share of failures. Everyone looks to her now when failure isn't an option.
The lounge door hisses open. Shepard jumps to her feet. She takes long, silent breaths and tries to breathe normally.
"Commander?"
It's Traynor. It's late. Why is she here? "Still chasing after that drink?" Her voice sounds wispy and she clears it.
"Chasing after a good night's rest is more like it. Remember that thing I said about sharing a room with fifteen other soldiers? They haven't caught savvy to my trick—I sneak in here late at night if I can. The couches are comfortable enough. You on the other hand… What are you doing here?" Shepard gives a small shake of her head. "Can't sleep?" Traynor asks quietly. "I'm sorry about Mordin. He was brilliant. And a good man."
"Yeah."
Traynor stands beside her. Shepard can see a folded blanket and regulation pillow in her arms. Atop of it, a book, a novelization of Fleet and Flotilla. Traynor gazes at the stars. "There's so much out there. And the Reapers are still decimating us. I thought it couldn't get any worse than the Collectors on Horizon," she says shakily.
"It will get better."
"You're bleeding." Shepard doesn't know what she's talking about. Traynor gets on her knees and sticks an arm beneath one of the couches, "Given the history of this ship you can never be too prepared. When retrofitting it I thought it might be wise to add some extra medical kits in every room—in case of emergency. I wouldn't say this is one but it doesn't mean it can't be used. Sit."
Shepard doesn't, watching Traynor open the medical kit and pull out bandaging and medigel. Moments later, a gentle hand guides Shepard to a sitting. Shepard's in a daze. "Late night first aid—another thing I never used to do in the labs."
"Are you sorry you got trapped onboard the Normandy?"
"I'm not trapped, Commander. Not anymore, anyway. If it were desperate, I could get off at the Citadel. The way I figure, this is the safest place to be with all that's going on. Doesn't mean I'm not worried about my parents or feeling guilty."
"Guilty?"
"I'm alive." She bites her lip. "I'm lucky not to be in London anymore," she says, eyebrows dipping gently. "And Mum and Dad are too. I haven't heard from them in a long time. Do you have family?"
"They died on Mindoir, long ago." At least they were spared seeing everything that's happening. Shepard doesn't know if that should be a comfort.
"I'm sorry."
"If you ever want to go—"
Traynor looks up at her. "Do you want me to?"
EDI comes on over the intercom. "I would highly discourage that line of thought, Shepard. Samantha continues to be an asset to the Normandy. Furthermore, a scan of emails reveals that several crew members would be disappointed by her absence. She raises morale, much like I raise Jeff's."
"Goody," Traynor's face flushes. "You read emails…?"
EDI is wisely silent.
Shepard finds a small smile. "I wouldn't dream of asking her to leave, EDI."
"Jeff has confessed worry about the tension between you, Liara and Samantha."
"That's enough, EDI," Shepard says warily, mortified at where the conversation has gone. EDI's new humanity is endearing to behold but the abundance of awkward moments she provides can't be understated. "Everything's been resolved so… let's not talk about it."
"Understood, Shepard. I may press you with more questions later. Is the temperature in the lounge to your satisfaction, Samantha? My scan reveals a higher than normal body temperature."
"It's fine, EDI," Traynor says under her breath, her cheeks darkening further still. "Thank you. Goodnight." Shepard laughs uncomfortably. "Now that I'm properly humiliated… maybe I can take care of that cut." Traynor presses the disinfectant to Shepard's neck before she can respond. Shepard inhales sharply, not having known it was there. "You need to start getting regular check ups when you come in off the field," she goes on, gingerly dabbing at the cut before applying the medigel. Shepard feels her skin pulling together.
"You opposed to scars, Traynor?"
"I'll put it this way—Krogan women aren't the only ones who think they're sexy," she says. Shepard can't see her face, it's nearly nestled in her neck, setting the bandage into place. Shepard holds still, grateful if Traynor misses the heating of her cheeks. "Anyway, if our illustrious leader doesn't get proper medical care, the other soldiers will think they're unstoppable too."
Shepard sighs softly. "Is that what you think?"
"Sure. You've stopped Saren and Sovereign. You stopped the Collectors—and saved my life and that of others many times over." She puts the items back in the first aid kit and tucks it back under the couch. "I'm convinced you can do anything." She looks at her worriedly. "You don't think we can win this?"
Shepard looks at her. Traynor kneels on the floor, eyes wide, carefully concealing any fear. Shepard swears inwardly. She's been moping while others have been strong. If she doesn't put on a strong face they'll all resign themselves to destruction. "I know we will. It may not seem that way now but..."
Samantha looks away, her face a tapestry of concern. "Can any person survive being this scared for so long?
"There are plenty of things out there trying to kill us already. Fear is one of the ones we can control. This war will be won. We will lose some things but we won't lose everything."
"Can you promise that?"
"Yes." Her word sounds like a husk. She hopes her determined face is more convincing. Traynor sits beside her on the couch, next to the sheet and pillow she's brought. Shepard looks at the sad bundle and the even sadder Traynor. She covers Traynor's hand with hers. "It's all right to be scared. You'd be crazy if you weren't. Just don't let it consume you, no matter how hard it gets." Shepard squeezes her hand gently. "You can't forget the reasons worth living. Okay?"
"Yeah. Okay." Traynor nods again. She looks at Shepard's hand, covering her own. "Thanks, Commander. I won't get down like that again. I'll keep it together."
"Good. Everyone's counting on us." She removes her hand from Traynor's and picks up the folded blanket, settling it over Traynor's lap. "I should let you rest." She says. "Thanks for the talk."
"Can't you stay a while longer?" Traynor delicately spreads the blanket over Shepard's legs. "We don't have to do anything. We don't even have to talk. But company would be nice… if that's okay." She lifts the heavy text. "We can read selections from Fleet and Flotilla. I'm to the part where this adorable turian is trying so hard to get the attention of a quarian commander."
Shepard could throw the blanket off and leave. She's heard of Fleet and Flotilla but hasn't watched the vid yet. Traynor talks about the story as if it were juicy gossip. Shepard plays along. "How's the turian doing?"
"Not as well as he'd like." She smiles and starts reading. Shepard wraps an arm around the back of the couch, listening to Traynor's soft English accent, lulled by it; Samantha is easy to listen to. Shepard isn't sure when her hand falls over Traynor's shoulder to slide down her arm. Shepard can't stay awake. She isn't sure which one of them falls asleep first.
The book slipping from Traynor's hand and slamming to the floor wakes Shepard. Traynor is asleep against her, breathing softly. Shepard strokes her hair gingerly. She brushes a kiss against her forehead. A spark of hope ignites.
"Sounds like you have a crush on Jack, Specialist Traynor."
Traynor smiles. "Can you blame me?"
"I thought you had a crush on me," Shepard said under her breath, the words only for Traynor. Shepard walks alongside of her as the specialist makes her way out of the War Room. "What about her does it for you? Is it the biotics or the bad attitude? Maybe you're into tattoos."
"Or it could be her good looks. It could be a little of everything," Traynor flicks through her data pad as she walks, "your mission report is so detailed. It's like I'm right there, with you, except for all of the danger and bullets flying through the air. She hit you, right in the face?" She stops, stares into Shepard's face. Private Campbell and Private Westmoreland exchange glances and turn to the two women. Shepard and Traynor look away from one another. Traynor keeps walking. "You should be more careful."
"I'm supposed to know my allies are going to be taking swings at me? Hell, it's a good thing you found out what was going down at Grissom. Who knows what might have happened if you hadn't?"
"I can take a few guesses, none ending with 'and they lived happily ever after'. I bloody hate Cerberus. Glad they brought you back, though." She steps into the elevator. Shepard follows. The doors slide shut. "Look at that bruise," Traynor laments, fingers feathering along Shepard's jaw. Shepard takes her hand and finds her mouth.
Their fingers twine. Traynor lights a hand on Shepard's chest. A moment later her hand slides behind Shepard's neck, delves into her hair, drawing her down, kissing her hot and deep. They'd kissed again for the first time days ago, their lips barely touching, both of them shaking with nerves. Then EDI announced that Admiral Hackett wanted to talk to Shepard on vidcomm. They've barely had a chance to speak or see one another since.
A current of excitement courses through Shepard at the pressure of Traynor's soft lips against hers. Not all of the guilt over Liara has abated but it is waning. It is bearable. It is not enough for her to keep rejecting Traynor or keep her at arm's length. The specialist has proven difficult to resist.
"You need to go to the medbay," Traynor says between kisses.
"I will."
"Promise me."
Shepard kisses along her neck, "yes."
"Say it."
"Promise."
Their lips meet again. They separate only when the elevator doors do on the third floor. Shepard forgets why she came to the floor to begin with. "Dr. Chakwas," Traynor reminds her.
Shepard nods. She only allows Traynor a few steps before moving behind her, taking hold of her arms, lips to her ears. "Are you busy tonight?"
"I may have a hot date lined up," she murmurs, turning best as she can to look at her. "Did you have something in mind? If you have a good enough offer I may be persuaded to cancel."
They still haven't spotted anyone. Shepard pulls Traynor to the lounge. The doors slide closed and their mouths are on each other's again. Headiness races through Shepard. Warmth. Dizzying, unrecognizable happiness. It's been so long since she's experienced it that it feels foreign. Traynor's kisses are sweet and indecent. Shepard slides her hands beneath Traynor's shirt, touching the feverish skin below, craving contact. Traynor's breath hitches, teeth sinking gently into Shepard's lower lip, loosing a gasp from her.
"Are you trying to make an indecent woman out of me?" Traynor asks breathlessly.
"On every room of the ship, if I can help it."
"Not in Diana's room. She has cameras. I don't want our business broadcast to the galaxy at large."
"Especially in Diana's room," she teases with another kiss, lips brushing against her ear. She stalls when Traynor pulls away, looking at her hand with fearful bewilderment. Her fingertips are red. Shepard blinks and lifts a hand to her hair. Blood comes away. How does she keep missing these things? Everything stings after battle, little things don't catch up to her. Do you hear that humming? She nearly asks. "It's just a little blood."
"I don't start blood play until after the third date," Traynor says with a small laugh.
Shepard sees the tension on her face. "Hey." Traynor quickly turns her back to her. Is she trying to be strong for her? "Hey," she says softly, taking her shoulders, pressing to her back. She wraps her arms around Traynor's waist, resting her chin on her shoulder. "I'm going to be fine. It's just a little scratch."
"I worry like a maniac every time you go out. But I have to stand in CIC grinning like an idiot until you return."
"You don't grin like an idiot."
"You can't joke your way out of this, Commander." Her voice shakes, arms snaking around herself. "I'm so scared all the time. I'm more scared for you than I am for me. If something happens to you… Everything will be lost. That's what I tell myself should matter. But...it isn't. I just think of you somewhere…hurt or. …I have nightmares about it. I feel like a scared, little girl."
Shepard gently tightens her hold around Traynor's waist. "It's going to be all right." It has to be all right. "Didn't you hear? I'm the savior of the galaxy. I'm so great I'm not even human." Shepard studies Traynor's face, relieved to see a faint smile touch on her lips. "I'm unstoppable."
"Don't think I won't hold you to it." Traynor's voice is a wisp of emotion.
Shepard nuzzles her face in Traynor's neck. She closes her eyes and hears the growl of the bastard Reapers; the trumpet that rings their destruction. A single-minded purpose takes her: she will not lose to the Reapers. She will not lose Samantha Traynor or any other of her people to Cerberus. Not on her watch. She vows to make the promise to Traynor. She wants to give her peace and peace of mind. She parts her lips with reassurances but can't speak. She is incapable of saying the words. She's petrified of being made into a liar.
