Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bioware, EA, etc. I do this for fun, not profit.
The wall-length fish tank filled Shepard's cabin with an eerie blue glow. Void of aquatic lifeforms, the tank was mostly a glorified nightlight. A blank email filled the screen of Shepard's personal terminal, glaring brightly in the dim room. Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard, flexed slightly as if about to type, and retracted to wipe nervously against her pants. She grimaced at the tackiness of her palms. Why was she sweating? This was just a joke, a prank... right?
When Garrus made the suggestion at the bar, the idea had seemed hilarious. Shepard couldn't say no. She wasn't one to back down from a dare, especially not one issued after having a few too many drinks. As first human Spectre, she had a reputation to maintain. Joker had been there too, spurring her on with chants of, "do it, do it!" There was no way she was getting out of this one.
After sobering up a bit, though, the challenge seemed less enticing. Would they really know if she chickened out? The only proof of her failure would be the fact that she was still alive. Because the task she'd been set on was potentially life threatening. If she went through with it, she expected at least a black eye or a broken nose. Were the bragging rights really worth the potential pain and suffering? Shepard sighed. The dare was more than just a matter of pride. Her friends were worried about her. Garrus' muttering on the way back to the Normandy was evidence of that. As she helped support his weight, he had rambled on about how she shouldn't be so alone all the time. She didn't want him to worry, and if going along with this dare would help, she'd do it.
Groaning, Shepard wearily rubbed her face. The clock on her terminal said it was after three in the morning. The stress of trying to stop the Collectors combined with the fading alcohol buzz filled her with a bone deep exhaustion. Maybe, if she crawled into bed now, she'd be able to snatch a couple hours of sleep, a moment of reprieve from the fate of the galaxy hanging on her shoulders. Maybe.
Shepard started to type, paused, and erased the line of text. It wasn't just fear of physical harm that made her reluctant to send the message. By expressing what was on her mind, she would be completely vulnerable, a state she'd never entered willingly. Sure, she'd had flings on occasion, but sharing her feelings was a realm of unfamiliarity. Her career had always kept her too busy to consider making time for intimate relationships. The closest she'd come to opening up to another person had been with Ash, but that romance had ended before it had a chance to develop. Shepard grimaced, pushing away the memories.
Loss decorated her past like the ugly, thin scars that traced the curves of her face. Mindoir. Akuze. Virmire. The destruction of the original Normandy. They were all harsh reminders of the fragility of life. Perhaps that's why Garrus was so concerned about her. Even without the Collectors and Reapers looming over them, time was short. The future was unpredictable.
Resolved, Shepard typed a message and hit send. A twinge of nervousness fluttered in her stomach, but it was too late to turn back. She just hoped she hadn't made a horrible mistake. Turning off her terminal, Shepard staggered over to her bed and collapsed onto the soft mattress. Much tossing and turning ensued before sleep came.
