Author's note: Objects in Space was originally planned to be a one-shot. But then someone *cough*pavvus*cough* came with the alternative thought of 'what if Kaidan saw Joker's escape pod and thought Shepard was in it and was relieved and hopeful, only to later learn that she was never in it in the first place?' And OF COURSE I had to write it. Because I apparently like to make myself hurt. Now I am sharing it with you, so y'all also have something to hurt over. So consider this as an alternate Objects in Space.


It had been a morning just like any other on the Normandy.

Shepard rolled over at the sound of the alarm clock, hand searching for the small device on the stand next to the bed until she found it and smashed it back to silence. The man lying next to her grunted in his sleep. She rolled back over and snuggled closer.

"What time…?" Kaidan asked.

"Enough," Shepard replied, wrapped her legs around him, heels digging into his behind (she was convinced it was the nicest ass in the Galaxy, and she was tremendously happy that she could pinch it whenever she felt like it – or well, almost whenever she felt like it) to pull him on top of her. He laughed a little, she felt the vibrations against her chest. Her arms wandered around him, caressed the short, dark hair in the back of his neck and he kissed her jaw line. She stretched her neck back to let him trace kisses down her skin. He paused just when he reached her collarbone.

"I should really get back to the crew sleeping pods…"

"Bullshit…" she whispered.

"People are talking."

"Let them talk."

He chuckled. His hands lazily wandered over her skin, thumbs circled her nipples, the feeling made her arch her back towards him with a moan. They melted together perfectly. His face buried at the nape of her neck, in her hair, his arms wrapped around her, held her close. And she was wrapped around him, held him in her, felt him, all of him. She moaned, his name in every breath she took.

In the mornings, they took it slow, almost lazy. She smiled as she savoured the feeling. How this 'fling' they had just turned into this slow burning, deep lingering affection. How much she loved waking up next to him. His kisses, his touches, his voice, whispering sweet nothings to her. The way he gently bit her earlobe, the way his breath hitched just before he came. She would run her hand through his hair, eyes closed, completely filled with the sensation. In the mornings, it was almost always about him. He gave back graciously when they returned here for the night, when he took his time and showed all his skills, when he teased her in all the right ways and she came undone at his touch. But in the mornings, she enjoyed to feel him go over the edge, more than anything.

He would lazily roll off her afterwards and she knew he watched her when she got up. Sometimes he joined her in the shower, today he did not. But he helped her dress, and who knew getting dressed could be such a turn-on?

Their little perfect romance ended once they stepped out of the captain's quarters and back into everyday life on board the Normandy. They both had much to do, saw little of each other on most days. Stolen smiles here and there. Always with the promise of being reunited soon, arm in arm.

They were in a good place.

When she started her assignment on the Normandy, she had expected many things. But she had not expected him. Had not expected to end up in this good place. She cherished every moment.


He could not hear the explosion. Sound does not carry in space. But he felt it. Roaring in his chest, pressing the air from his lungs. The light of the energy beam from the hostile ship, then the fire from the Normandy that flew apart. He struggled against the restraints of his seat and when the escape pod finally stabilised, he clicked free and tumbled through zero gravity in front of the small round hole they called a window. He could not blink, stared out at the burning corpse of their ship until his eyes were watering. He was looking for a sign, anything, any indication that they had not gone down with that wreck. His stomach was in one painful coil, his hands clenched to such tight fists his knuckles turned chalk white. His teeth hurt, from how tightly he locked his jaw to bite back the nausea. God please… please… he should have never let her go back up there on her own. He should have gone with her, orders be damned. They should have been in there together. They would have been able to get Joker out together. Why had he let her go alone?! What was he thinking? His eyes hurt from staring at the burning ship as it approached the atmosphere of the planet below and his mind played the cruellest tricks on him. Like he could hear her screams as her suit was melting to her skin and-

There!

Oh thank God!

There it was. An escape pod shot through the emptiness of space. It had to be them. He tried to see the serial number, knew which one was the one closest to joker. It had to be, God please, it had to… Yes!

Kaidan pulled back into his seat with a sigh of relief that almost turned into a cry. They had made it. She had made it. He felt Liara's hand on his shoulder and looked up to find the asari smile and nod.

"She's going to be okay."

"Yeah… yeah she is."

"Come on, this is Shepard we're talking about. A little explosion doesn't kill her. It only pisses her off," Garrus said with a wide grin shaking his mandibles. Kaidan nodded and laughed as he leaned back. The laugh of relief completely overwhelmed him. He had to hold his chest from laughing, almost struggled to breath. She was fine. They would be fine. Sure, the Normandy was gone. But that was just a ship. There would be other ships. There was only one Shepard. And that horror he had just gone through, thinking she had not made it… he never wanted to feel like that again. And he would tell her that, as soon as they were together again. As soon as he could wrap his arms around her again, he would tell her that he loved her and he never wanted to be without her again. Never. He would never let it get this close again!


The landscape he could see outside was harsh, unwelcoming, frozen. The sky was still burning with debris being obliterated in the atmosphere. Most of the Normandy had come down, pieces were scattered across the plains, smoking and burning up. What a mess. So God help him, when they were back home, he'd take shore leave. Long shore leave. With Shepard. With Shepard on a tropical island. Somewhere warm. They would drink cocktails with little umbrellas and she would wear a bikini. God, that mental image made him smile. Shepard in a bikini. Something really girly, probably. And a big flower in her hair, and huge sunglasses. With her toes in the sand. He could see her smile. Oh yes, as soon as they were off this frozen rock he would suggest that to her.

"What are you smiling about, Lieutenant?" Chakwas asked from the row of safety seats facing him. He shook his head.

"Nothing."

How long they were out there after the crash was hard to tell. Chakwas had at some point decided to unfasten her seatbelt and use the emergency kit on the back wall of the pod to patch up two of the injured crewmembers and get the poor kid that had chucked up his insides out during their crash through the atmosphere some meds to calm his stomach. Kaidan just kept staring out of the window, tried to see any of the other escape pods that had no doubt crashed.

But then, finally, after what could have been hours, something lit up the atmosphere. A ship. It touched down a good 6 miles away from the main crash site and Kaidan could see the white arc and stars on blue that identified the Alliance. If they had taken nothing else from this day, at least they knew the distress signals worked. And Admiral Hackett would be pleased to, for a change, discover that the distress signal was actually what it was advertised to be – not a slaver ambush, not pirates, not researchers turned husks, just an Alliance crew in distress.

A team came to get them out of their pod. A young, jumpy soldier introduced himself as their rescue buddy and they climbed out into the unpleasantly wet, cold outside. Kaidan knew a thing or two about the cold – being Canadian and all – but he still looked forward to being on a warm Alliance ship, wrapped in a blanket or two, with a coffee, and probably Shepard warming her feet on his ass ('the hottest ass in the Galaxy! Now stop moving, K!'). In a little huddled group they marched across the ice, treaded carefully so not to slip or fall or stray.

Upon arrival, they were welcomed by a Commander who, very formally, took all their IDs for a survivor register and then channelled them through to the crew deck mess hall, where they were served hot food and got those long overdue blankets.

More of the crew came in over the next two hours. And with every familiar face that walked into the mess, Kaidan grew more and more anxious. No sign of Shepard and Joker yet. Liara came to his side with a cup of coffee for him.

"They'll be here," she said.

"Course they will."

The uncomfortable feeling grew, however, when the ships drive core began roaring and they took off from the surface. Kaidan got up from his chair.

"I'm going to check. She's probably annoying the Commander…" he said and was just heading for the door when it slipped open again and their jumpy rescue buddy entered, supporting a pretty badly shaken Joker. His face was all black and blue and judging by the way he moved, he might have suffered at least one bone fracture during the rescue. Joker dropped into a chair nearest to the door and slumped over in it, face buried in his hands. He clearly was not taking it well that his baby was gone. If there was one who had loved the Normandy dearly, it was certainly Joker.

"You'll all be assigned sleeping arrangements in a bit, please stay in the mess until then. We're contacting Admiral Anderson with reports right now," their rescue buddy said and then left them. Kaidan reached Joker's side.

"Hey. It's gonna be fine. Is the Commander talking with… well, their Commander?"

"She… Kaidan… she…"

He should have heard it in his friends tone. No, that was not quite right. He did hear it. He heard it so clearly, Joker might have as well written it down and slapped him with it. The way the Flight Lieutenants voice broke, the way he did not look up to meet his eyes. Kaidan's logical mind could perfectly translate the body language and understood the message. The problem was that his heart completely refused.

He just looked at Joker, waiting for the 'Yes, she's on the bridge, she'll join in a bit' that had to follow. Of course that had to follow. What else could Joker be meaning to say? "She isn't… she wasn't… I…"

"Hey. Joker, are you okay?"

Joker pushed him away with what little strength he had and stumbled to the floor when he did.

"She's gone! She locked the escape pod so I could get out. But she didn't. She didn't make it, okay?! She never made it into the escape pod. It's my fault. She got spaced, or blew up with the ship, I don't know! She's dead, Kaidan. I killed her, she's dead because of me! Shepard's dead."

Gone. Didn't make it. Spaced. Blew up. Dead. Killed. Dead. Dead.

Kaidan was not entirely sure how often Joker would have to repeat it until it would finally sink in. The crew had fallen painfully silent. He saw Chakwas in the corner of his eye, a shaking hand on her lips. Joker kept saying it. Over and over, like a mantra. She's dead.

Kaidan took a step back, then another. She never made it into the escape pod. Never… she was out there, somewhere. Alone. He had made plans for a tropical island shore leave, while she was out there, all alone in her last moments? He had laughed and joked and been relieved and hopeful, while she was out there? No matter how much he told himself, no matter how often he repeated the words in his mind, they did not want to sink in.

He could not feel the floor under his feet anymore, had lost all feeling in his limbs. He stumbled against a table, tumbled sideways, lost his balance, collapsed to the floor. He vaguely remembered Liara was there, tried to reach out, get him back on his feet.

No.

This was not real. This was not happening. He was probably still in that escape pod, had hit his head on impact. He had to be in a nightmare or something. Yes, that had to be it. Yes, of course. Obviously. Ha, ridiculous. Shepard was not dead. That was nonsense! She was Shepard! She would walk in here any moment now, helmet tucked under her arm, that smug smile of hers on her lips, the same one she had worn when she crawled out from under the debris on the Citadel. 'You weren't gonna leave without me, were you?'

Never.

"Kaidan… Kaidan… I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry…" Liara kept whispering. He shook his head. He could not speak. Don't be sorry Liara, don't be sorry, it's all a misunderstanding. She's fine. She'll be here any minute now. She's fine. She's always fine. She's Shepard.

He had his legs pulled close. His head was spinning with oxygen deprivation. He had not even noticed that he had not been breathing. He gasped, fought for air, his throat tied together painfully. His head felt like it was about to explode. This had to end.

Please, please, walk through that door. Walk through that door and tell me everything will be fine. Please… Please… Please…

Please…

Please…


The rapid transit car stopped at the upper residential area, a neat little hotel.

Kaidan Alenko opened his formal uniform jacket on his way in, because the collar was strangling him. He drove up with the elevator, stumbled into his room.

The day had taken everything out of him, everything he had, every last bit of strength. Surrounded by people, talking every minute, his throat was sore, his voice tasted stale to him.

Her memorial service.

Now that was a date he'd scratch from his memory.

He walked over to the small bar, took a glass, filled it with cheap hotel scotch almost to the brim and then leaned against the large, reinforced window while drinking it. How much, he wondered, would it take to drink himself to death? How much force would he need to break that glass? Be sucked out into the vacuum. He stared at his gun on the table. He could just shoot himself, right? It would be quick though. Too quick maybe? Surely he'd be able to break the glass instead. How long would it take for him to lose consciousness, to suffocate? Would it hurt? Had she been in much pain? Had she suffered much? Would she be on the other side, waiting for him? Would she still want him if he gave up now?

He doubted it.

But it would be so much easier… so much…

Memories rushed through him while the alcohol ran down his throat, the after taste like he was swallowing ground glass. That hotel room on the Presidium, where they had spent the days after the battle, where they had just been there for each other. When she was not in a council meeting, she was with him. He remembered her fingertips on his skin, her lips, the warmth of her body such an easy thing to get used to. He remembered running his fingers through her hair when she let it down when they were together. He remembered the way she would laugh, that one particularly ticklish spot in the hollow of her right knee. He remembered the pattern of birth marks on her back, a star chart her drew with his kisses. The way she whispered his name.

That shore leave they never got to take. All the chances he missed to tell her he loved her.

He broke down, the glass crushed in his hand, blood and scotch burning in the cuts as he broke down in tears, alone in the dark hotel room.

No fight left in him.