We remain in doubt regarding your fitness for duty in light of your recent connections with the known terrorist organization, Cerberus, and your destruction of the Bahak system.
James felt the surge of anger within him, clawing again to get out. He clenched his fists, felt his blunt nails digging into his palms. He wanted something to punch, but there was no outlet for his temper within the stifling walls of the courtroom. He could only watch helplessly as the stuffy bastards made their announcement.
You are hereby stripped of your rank of Lieutenant Commander, and you are relieved of your assignment as executive officer of the Normandy.
If he hadn't been forcing himself to watch her closely, he might have missed her mask of composure slipping away, the barest hint of how badly she was affected, before a slight tick in her pale cheek signified to him that she was winning the fight to appear impassive. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin an imperceptible fraction, again immovable and unwavering. His eyes weren't the only ones trained on her in this crucial moment, not by a long shot, and he was pleased to see that she was giving them nothing, the self-righteous pricks. He didn't stop to analyze why he felt so possessively proud of her in that moment.
You will remain in custody until a further decision can be made regarding our diplomatic situation with the Batarians, and we expect your continued cooperation in your investigation into the Reaper scenario.
The words echoed in her head as she stood numbly in the center of her room. She had no idea how she had gotten here, had only the foggiest memory of James quietly but insistently urging her forward, his fierce glare keeping away any interference. She knew they were all watching her closely. She thought she had gotten used to the stares over the years, but never before had she felt so exposed. She kept her back ramrod straight, her composure barely in check, her breathing ragged now that she had reached the relative safety of her room.
For the second time that day, James felt helpless. He didn't know what to do, what he could say, if he should even bother to try. He sensed a slight tremor course through her body. He moved forward to reach out to her with hesitant steps. "Commander…"
She turned around before he could finish and pinned him with a venomous glare. "You're not supposed to call me that anymore, Lieutenant!"
Her pent-up anger only served to fuel his own frustration, but he wasn't leaving her until she found some sort of release. She'd go crazy if she kept all this bottled up for long, he had learned that lesson the hard way. He tried again. "Commander…"
She advanced on him, fury emanating from her in waves, and he felt the curious sensation of static charging the air around them. He glanced down, distracted by the raised hairs on his arms, and when he looked up again she was standing before him. He stared at her, the bright jade of her eyes darkened to a deep emerald. He read anger on the surface, but underneath he saw the hurt and the pain and the betrayal she felt. His eyes darted to a movement behind her, and he saw the desk and chair hovering around a ball of singularity in the center of the room.
When he moved his eyes back to her face he noticed the glow of biotic sheen across her skin. In that moment, trapped by the fury and bruised pride reflected in her shining eyes, he thought he had never witnessed anything so breath-taking. She was like an avenging goddess, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching out his hand to trace a finger over the soft satiny curve of her shimmering cheek. He felt a slight shock on the pad of his finger, and saw her pained confusion at his touch. If she were to question him, he would have no answer to give her. He felt like he was in a trance, like someone else had control of his body. They stood there, frozen for the merest second, but it felt like an age. He swallowed, his voice nothing more than a raspy whisper. "Commander."
Her eyes narrowed to glittering slits at the mention of her former title. He winced at the loud crash of the desk and chair as they were thrown across the room, but his eyes never wavered from hers. She moved so quickly he didn't have time to react, and her fist hit his chin as she shouted her phrase from before, "You're not supposed to call me that anymore!" He staggered back against the wall, and it wasn't just surprise that moved him. She was much stronger than he had estimated. It was a relief, because he was angry too, and he wasn't interested in holding back anymore.
She advanced on him again, but he was ready for her now, and he easily ducked her furious right hook. Lowering his shoulder into her next swing, he let her hit him twice more before snaking his arm around her waist and leveraging her back against the wall. She pummeled his back in frustration but he used his hips to pin her in place before grabbing her wrists and slamming them against the wall above her head. She glared at him, furious with how easily he had subdued her, but unwilling to use her biotics with her current lack of any semblance of emotional control. She gritted her teeth as awareness of their position sent warmth sweeping through her body. "Let me go," she ground out in frustration.
He was so close he could see the soft smattering of freckles across her delicate nose. He didn't trust himself to speak. He simply shook his head, his nose mere inches from hers, his breathing as quick and shallow as her own. She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, anything to escape his probing gaze. But closing her eyes was a mistake, as it only made her more aware of his body flush against hers and the heat that was growing between them. He shifted his position as he patiently waited for her to acknowledge him again, and the movement of his hips against hers was nearly her undoing.
She bit back a moan, and forced herself to look at him again. His gaze was intent, so close to hers that she noticed the lighter shards of color that flecked the inner brown of his iris. She noticed the stubble on his chin, the beads of sweat on his forehead. Her eyes traced the puckered scar trailing down one cheek, a harsh pointer to the swelling around his lower jaw that was a sign of the bruise to come. In that instant, her anger evaporated. She felt contrite, and the heat of shame now washed over her as she realized what she had done to this strong, proud man, who before this moment had shown her only gentleness and kindness. Feeling defeated, she slumped her shoulders and let her head fall forward between them. He relaxed his grip on her wrists, and her arms fell limply to her sides. She sighed in her misery, and let her head fall another inch, until it rested against his broad shoulder.
James sucked in his breath in momentary hesitation before wrapping his arms around her and drawing her into a comforting embrace. She curled immediately against his chest and he felt her body shiver. Her loud sniffle almost drowned out her softly spoken words. "I'm so sorry," she whispered brokenly against his chest.
His arms tightened around her, and he caressed her back with the palm of his hand while he forced himself to relax. She had done it again. In her moment of pain and betrayal, she had worried about him first, had shown concern when he had deserved none. He felt humbled by her generosity of spirit, and he wondered how the world could take so much from this woman who gave everything of herself without reservation. He felt a constrictive tightness in his chest that he could not begin to fathom. If she knew what he had done, if she knew what kind of man he really was, he doubted she would care about his feelings. She'd probably wonder if he had any feelings.
He had wondered it himself, in the deep dark pit of his nightmares. But the hollow ache that used to torment him was less painful now, replaced by the feelings of protective tenderness the fierce spitfire in his arms had awakened. His lips moved against the softness of her hair. "You don't have to apologize to me, you're clever enough to know I was baiting you, Commander."
She pulled back from his embrace to meet his eyes again. The anger was gone, replaced by resignation, although he could see the pain still lingering. But something else skirted across the surface, and a thoughtful frown took refuge in the planes of her face. "I'd really like you to call me Shepard, James," she urged, changing her tactics to match his stubborn refusal to cooperate.
The echo of his given name on her lips for the first time floored him, as did the plea in her eyes that accompanied her softly spoken request. She gave him a nod of encouragement with a slight smile. As she wheedled to get what she wanted from him, he knew the rumors of her powers of persuasion had not been false. He had never enjoyed being manipulated, but he was so relieved to see the return of her stubborn spirit that he would have promised her anything in that moment she tried to out-maneuver him.
"All right, Shepard," he agreed, his voice nearly unrecognizable to himself, shaken by the flood of emotions charging through him.
She straightened in satisfaction at her small victory. She gave him a wavering smile, but it faltered a bit at his next comment.
"I might forget once in a while, and you'll have to remind me. Nicely," he added with emphasis. Oh, he could play this game, and if it distracted her from the torment of the trial's conclusion, he could play it better than her. He imitated her action of lifting one eyebrow in questioning innocence and attempted to twist his manly features into his best semblance of her pleading pout.
He wasn't sure if he wanted to judge his success by the look that crossed her face. One corner of her mouth twitched as she seemed to be fighting a smile. She slapped a stern expression on her face before it could escape, placed her hands firmly on her slim hips, and opened her mouth to speak. Before she could fashion her response, he interrupted her train of thought with a frustrated expletive. Turning away from her, he added, "Today sucked. What a crapshoot."
She rewarded him with a wry smile. "I'll get over it."
"I know you will. Shepard." He wasn't just saying it. As he watched her defenses slipping back into place, her familiar calm control, he saw a glimpse of the woman who had saved Elysium, who had faced down a Reaper, who had made it back from a trip through the Omega 4, who had conquered even death itself. As emotionally harrowing as the trial was for her, he instinctively knew that no amount of stuffy political posturing could stymie her for long.
This was a woman who had confidence in everything she was, not the titles that had been given her. As he watched her graceful form settle the desk back into place, there was easy pride in every precise movement. It bothered him sometimes, how capable she was. She was so self-reliant. His male vanity let him suppose that he had helped her, but he knew she didn't really need him for anything. He tried to force the bitterness of those thoughts aside. This wasn't the time.
"Are we still on for tonight?" he heard himself ask, as he moved stiffly to the door.
She surveyed her detention room with a wistful smile. "I'll be here.
