Chapter Eight
The Vernacular of Family
Vancouver, Earth
The landscape that stretched out below the transport was a miserable carpet of blackened buildings and scorched earth. The ruins were starkly contrasted against the vibrant, white-capped blue of the bay, almost as though nature was desperately trying to compensate for the blasted post-war reality. As she stared sadly out of the window, Ashley Williams remembered the last time she had flown into Vancouver almost nine months earlier. Were it not for the city's distinctive topography, she would have said it was a different city altogether. Very few large buildings were still intact, most were blasted out shells or skeletal remains. It appeared that most of the rebuilding efforts were concentrated around the Defence Headquarter buildings and the space port.
As the transport came in over the HQ on a low trajectory, she couldn't help but recall the reunion with Shepard that had taken place on the day of her arrival. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had stood at the side of the pool, watching her old CO swim lengths. Ashley couldn't remember exactly how long she'd just watched Shepard's repetitive movements whilst trying to formulate an apology in her head.
"Look, Skipper…on Horizon…I was angry when I saw you with Cerberus. I thought you'd turned your back on the Alliance. I may have said a few things-"
"Forget it-"
"Let me finish. I hate Cerberus…and I hated you for working with them, but I hate myself more for abandoning you when you needed me. I should have been with you when you went through the Omega-4 relay. God knows you can't shoot worth a damn."
The apology had been sincere, but her irrational anger had come flooding back all too quickly following the revelation that Cerberus were behind the attack on the Mars outpost. Dad always did say I was quick to resort to anger, she chided herself. Now I'm the one involved with an ex-Cerberus operative.
Unlike when the Normandy had passed through the Omega-4 relay, Ash had been at Shepard's side throughout the Battle for Earth and all the way to base of the Crucible itself. She'd pushed herself beyond the limits of her abilities to keep the Commander safe, but her efforts had not been enough. She had managed to keep Liara safe, but not Shepard herself. As the transport flew past the scaffolding and the tiny figures at work, she knew that their efforts were all part of Shepard's legacy. It was solely because of the Commander that they had the chance to rebuild at all.
Ash felt a light touch graze the back of her hand. It seemed ridiculous that the simple gesture represented the limit of intimacy she could share with her lover in public. When she moved her attention from the view to the woman sitting next to her, she barely had the willpower to resist leaning in for a chaste kiss. Miranda's gaze conveyed similar sentiments. Her blue eyes sparkled with implicitly wicked intent, but she blatantly solved her own urges by folding her arms across her chest.
"Nervous?" Ash asked quietly.
"Terrified," Miranda replied honestly.
"You know they don't bite."
"I'm not worried about physical violence, I can handle myself in that respect," Miranda mused. "However if I resort to trussing your sisters up with biotics, I don't think I'll win them over. What am I supposed to do…to say?"
Miranda's voice had taken on a pleading quality that both surprised and enthralled Ashley. It became even more difficult to resist the temptation to touch her. Ash was frustrated by the fact that she knew she could do a far better job of reassuring Miranda through her touch than she ever could with words. She already had to stop herself from responding with a pathetic shrug and an 'I don't know.'
"Just be yourself," she eventually offered.
Miranda responded with a cynical expression. "You know me better than anyone else, Williams. If I followed your advice, then my first meeting with your family would more than likely be my last. The whole point is not to be myself. I need to be someone tactful, chatty, and…nice."
Ashley discreetly shifted in her seat to move her body closer to Miranda's and her lips closer to her ear. "I love you the way you are, M," she whispered. "Relax, be yourself, and if you're pissing one of them off, they'll let you know about it – probably with their fists."
"Remind me never to ask your advice again," Miranda replied. There was a small smile on her face.
Approximately an hour and a half later, Miranda still wasn't sure whether her approach to winning over the Williams sisters was working. She had settled for tactics that were halfway between Ashley's advice to be herself and her own - which mostly involved thinking through every word that left her lips and smiling at everything until her jaw ached. Although their youngest sister was absent, Abby and Lynn Williams created enough conversation of their own to make it seem as though there were half a dozen people crowded around the small table in the tiny two-bedroom apartment they shared. To make matters worse, Ashley had saved her last bottle of scotch for the occasion.
It was slightly disarming to be around two women who resembled her lover. While Abby more closely resembled Ashley with the same nose and long hair, but it was Lynn who shared Ashley's mannerisms and sense of humour. Most of the table conversation was deliberately light as the sisters sought to reconnect. While they did not shy away from mentioning Abby's boyfriend, killed on the Citadel, and Sarah's marine husband lost on Demeter, the reminiscing remained humorous. There were a lot of childhood anecdotes shared, mostly involving Abby and Lynn trying their best to embarrass Ashley. Although Miranda had little experience with mothers, Abby was clearly a mothering sort of young woman. She took charge of their meal, bustling between the table and the kitchen.
"I always wondered whether one of us would turn out to be gay," Lynn mused as she took a sip of scotch. The slight grimace on her face indicated that she was only drinking it to humour her big sister.
"I'm not gay," Ashley replied testily. She was already onto her second measure of scotch.
"Well whatever you want to call it, you're sleeping with a woman!" Lynn said as she pointed toward Miranda who merely had a shocked expression on her face.
"I always thought it would be you, Lynn," Abby added from the kitchen.
"Really?"
"Yeah, middle child syndrome and all that," Abby laughed as she lifted the lasagne out of the oven. "You were always trying to be a little different."
"You're a middle child too," Lynn fired back.
Abby shook her head. "Ah, but I'm the elder middle child."
"That just makes you an even bigger screw-up. Whatever…so I may have been with a couple of women at college-" she paused to grin smugly at the surprised faces of her siblings "-it's no big deal. Ash however is well and truly in love, and that's something I never thought I would see – other than her abnormal love for the marine corps of course."
"Hey! I thought Dad raised us to respect our elders," Ashley cuffed Lynn lightly over the back of her head.
Lynn retorted with a quick punch to the upper arm. From there the banter suddenly became a restrained brawl with the two trading a flurry of light punches as a rather confused Miranda looked on. Having never had siblings nor childhood friends, the behaviour of the Williams sisters was almost alien to her. Abby practically had to fight her way to the table despite carrying a steaming hot tray of food.
Abby caught the expression on Miranda's face as she sat down. She leaned close to whisper conspiratorially, "Ignore those two, they always were the most immature out of the four of us." She interrupted her sisters by clearing he throat loudly. "If the two of you are done embarrassing yourselves, I'd like to say grace so we can eat before this delicious meat-substitute lasagne gets cold."
She paused while her sisters composed themselves. Ashley and Lynn, who had been scrapping only moments earlier, linked hands. Miranda frowned at first as Ashley beckoned her to hold out her hand but she eventually obliged, linking up with Abby on her other side. The younger sister gave her hand a warm squeeze but all she could worry about was her palm being sweaty.
Bowing her head, Abby began, "Dear Lord, thank you for bringing the four of us together. We ask you to watch over Sarah, our loved one who couldn't be here, and to our loved ones who are here in spirit – Dad, Tom, and Kostas – please watch over them. Thank-you for bringing Miranda to our table, regardless of whether she's turned our big sister gay or not, we're so very pleased to welcome her to the Williams family. Ash has always been a bit crap when it comes to finding love so I have to suspect that you gave her a little bit of help with that-"
"A lot of help," Ashley murmured as she rubbed her thumb over the back of Miranda's hand.
"-and thank you for this food-"
"And the hands that prepared it!" Lynn interjected, knowing Abby would not thank herself.
"- after everything that has happened, we're so incredibly blessed to be sitting here eating it as a family. Amen."
A small chorus of 'amens' followed. Miranda offered up her own despite her doubts whether any deity, if they even existed in the first place, would be interested in knowing her. After the first and largest portion of lasagne had been heaped onto her plate, the sisters descended on their food with great gusto. Miranda needed only a small bite to confirm that it was leagues better than the food she had endured at OCS and she was soon eating with just as much enthusiasm.
As she scraped up the last morsels of food, she found herself making a strange realisation. Although she had no idea what being with a normal family was supposed to feel like, she instinctively knew that she was a part of something. Her earlier insecurities were long since forgotten as she sat back in her chair and sipped her drink, content to observe the woman she loved interacting with her sisters.
With her body accustomed to waking at 0500, Miranda was surprised to wake alone the next morning. The space in the bed bedside her was cold, indicating that Ash had been up for some time. After pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved top, she quietly ventured beyond the bedroom. Having given up her room to accommodate the couple, Abby was on the couch. She had expected to possibly find Ash reminiscing with her sister, but she was nowhere in sight. Abby was awake, propped up at one end of the sofa reading a tattered paperback book.
"You military types sure love waking up early," she commented upon seeing Miranda.
"I didn't mean to wake you." Miranda winced.
Abby laughed and shook her head. "You're half an hour too late for that. Ash has never been light on her feet. She could wake the dead with her stomping around. If you're looking for her, she went up onto the roof to catch some air about half an hour ago."
Miranda nodded as she moved toward the door. "Thanks, Abby."
"Hey, Miranda?" Abby ventured quietly. Miranda looked up whilst tugging on her shoes and saw that younger Williams sister was perched on the edge of the sofa. "I hope I'm not overstepping the bounds of our relationship, but I just wanted to make sure you know just how welcome you are. Dad never told her himself, but he always worried about Ash ever finding someone to spend her life with – by the time she was a teenager she had three kids to help bring up. She never had time for dates and parties and all of that crap, and then she joined the Alliance straight out of school. The three of us used to tease her mercilessly about not knowing how to date – it was all kind of cruel really. I always thought she preferred being alone…but I know her, I see the way she looks at you and I can tell she's head over heels in love with you."
Is this the sort of conversation that women are supposed to have together? Miranda asked herself as she finished putting on her shoes. She managed a small smile upon seeing the expectant expression on Abby's face, but she had no idea of the appropriate response. Although she had no doubt of her love for the marine, she was unaware of the social protocols for sharing such information. "Thank you," she eventually replied. Having never actually been on a date with Ashley, she had no idea regarding the marine's skills in that department. She was however very well versed with her skills in other areas. "I'm not sure exactly what I did to deserve your sister, but…I love her…a great deal." Too much? Is this the part where she threatens to knife me in my sleep if I ever hurt Ash?
However, the decidedly sappy expression on Abby's face told her that she had probably said the right thing. Eventually she grinned and relaxed back against the cushions. Both women were startled as one of the adjoining doors opened. With her cheek-length hair sticking up at wild angles, Lynn Williams dashed across the floor and leapt onto her sister's makeshift bed with an energetic flourish.
Lynn's grin was decidedly more impish as she stared toward Miranda. "All I can say is that Ash must be amazing in bed because you're definitely a ten and I've always thought of her as more of a seven."
Slightly alarmed by Lynn's first comment and having no idea what she was talking about with her second, Miranda could only respond to Lynn with a smile. "Um, so which way to the roof?"
"End of the corridor, take the stairs all the way to the top," Abby explained. "But grab that jacket next to you, it'll be freezing out."
"You're awful," Abby was saying to Lynn as Miranda hastily tugged on the jacket in an effort to escape the sisters. "Ash is definitely an eight."
Even as she escaped out of the door, Miranda heard Lynn making a case for her to be an eleven as opposed to a ten. Against her better judgement, she found herself smiling. I'll have to ask Ash what they mean.
As soon as Miranda opened the roof-top door, she was met with an icy blast of wind. The rooftop was largely shrouded in darkness, made even worse when she closed the door behind her. As she started out she drew the jacket firmly across her chest and folded her arms to retain some heat.
"Ash?" Miranda called out softly into the darkness.
"I'm here."
Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she saw the slender shape of her lover leaning against the parapet on the far side of the roof. As she made her way across the wind nipped painfully at the exposed skin on her face and hands. She jammed her hands beneath her armpits to keep them warm. Already shivering by the time she reached Ashley's side, Miranda felt slightly resentful that she had made the decision to exchange a perfectly warm bed for a roof-top. They were supposed to be on leave after all.
"Seriously, Ash?" she announced in an acerbic tone. "You exchanged lying in bed next to a naked woman for this?"
"The view is nice," Ashley replied simply.
Although she did her best to humour Ash by following her line of sight, she could see very little in the pre-dawn darkness. She was far too cold and grumpy to pick out anything other than the devastation caused by the war. From their rooftop vantage point all she could make out were the twisted shadows of buildings. Although most of the streets were lit, the lights were deliberately weak to conserve power usage. With a military curfew still in effect seven months after the war, there were very few vehicles either in the sky or on the streets.
"I would have thought that your view in bed was nicer," Miranda replied in a thoroughly unimpressed voice. Although she was determined to appear as nonchalant as Ashley about the cold, she could feel her nose starting to run. She sniffed discreetly. "You can stand out here and freeze your tits off, I'm going inside."
"M," Ashley said softly. "Come here."
Miranda considered ignoring the request for about five seconds. Then she caved and eagerly allowed herself to be folded into her partner's arms. As she nestled her back against the warmth of Ashley's chest and felt strong arms wrap around her body, her foul mood faded considerably. It disappeared altogether when the taller woman leaned her chin atop her shoulder and pressed her cold lips against her neck. Her entire body responded with a delicious shiver.
They remained pressed together for almost a minute before Ashley broke the silence. "I received a message from Alliance brass a few hours ago." The tone of her voice was so close to being miserable that Miranda knew her words could only herald bad news. "I'm to report back to Melbourne by 0900."
The first response that almost left Miranda's lips was a tirade of expletives aimed at the 'chicken-shit outfit' that was responsible for such a cruel decision. However, as Ashley's arms tightened around her body in an obvious attempt to find a few last moments of solace, she held them all back behind gritted teeth.
"I guess the Alliance realised that they're not safe without the Normandy on duty. I should be grateful for three whole days with you." For her partner's sake, Miranda kept the bitterness from her tone. She swivelled in Ashley's arms, bringing them face to face, and swallowed back a lump in her throat before continuing, "It has been wonderful, Ash."
A ragged sigh escaped Ashley's lips. "I was considering typing a reply of my own, telling them to kiss my ass." She lowered her face so she could press her lips to Miranda's. For several seconds their cold lips warmed against each other's in a heated, desperate exchange. When they drew apart, Ashley found her breath falling hot and heavy against Miranda's skin. "And that isn't helping," she murmured quietly.
Miranda straightened and fixed a determined expression on her face. "You're humanity's only Spectre, Ash…and the Commander of the Alliance's most famous frigate. Unfortunately, they need you more than I do."
"You're not that selfless, M," Ashley pointed out.
"Not usually no, but I've been trying out a few new things lately all in the name of the greater good," Miranda replied determinedly. "I'm either going to grind my teeth down to nubs or draw blood biting my lip all the time but I made it through OCS so it must be working." She worked her hand out from between their bodies and wrapped her slightly stiff fingers around the front of Ashley's jacket. Her thumb absently played with the zipper as a determined expression took root on her face. "Yesterday morning, when you asked me about whether I wanted children…I'm sorry for my reaction-" Ashley opened her mouth to interrupt but Miranda silenced her with a brief peck on the lips "- and I'm really sorry that I don't want a child-"
"It's fine-" Ashley began, her disappointed expression was completely different from her words.
"-I want at least two," Miranda continued in an emphatic tone. "After experiencing my own miserable childhood first-hand and having a glimpse into yours, I've decided we need more than one. So, I'm sorry, but you'd better hope that the Williams hips are made for child-bearing."
"Well my Mom had four so I think I come from good stock," Ashley said with a grin. Her gaze searched Miranda's face hungrily as she tried to commit every detail of the moment to memory. The fact that Miranda wanted to have a family with her left her feeling like the luckiest woman alive. Without warning, she slipped one of her cold hands under Miranda's jacket and pressed it against her stomach. The resulting gasp made her laugh. As her fingers tunnelled beneath the waist of Miranda's sweatpants, she found blue-eyes searching her own questioningly. "What's the flight time to Melbourne?"
"About three hours," Miranda replied, instinctively widening her stance as Ashley's fingers continued downward to press against her sex. "Why?" she asked breathlessly.
"Because I plan on being late." Ashley whispered in the second before she found Miranda's lips and began kissing her mercilessly. She used her free hand to pick up her lover's and guide it down to the waist of her own pants. Very little prompting was needed from that point and Ash soon felt cold fingers pressing against her own skin. Her body responded with an involuntary jerk when Miranda dragged one finger through the warmth between her legs.
With her buttocks pressed against the parapet behind her, Miranda felt Ashley surge forward hungrily against her body as she drove her hand in a series of delightfully firm strokes. With the cold and the unexpected contact, she was almost painfully dry. Nevertheless, she urged Ashley to move faster by pumping her hips against her hand. Desperate to cling to her lover and this last playful moment they could share, she ignored the cold, the layers of clothing between them and the awkward friction to concentrate on gently manipulating Ashley's clit beneath the tip of her finger. A light laugh bubbled out from between their lips when she felt delicious warmth suddenly start to coat her finger as Ashley's body responded to her touch.
She broke their kiss long enough to murmur against her lover's ear. "I love how quickly you're ready for me. You can move faster, Ash."
"I don't want to hurt-" Ashley's sentence was made redundant when she felt a matching wetness between Miranda's legs. The marine grinned and eagerly increased the pace of her strokes. "Damn I love you, Lawson."
"Because my body responds to your touch so easily?" Miranda asked as she nipped Ash's ear.
"Amongst other things," Ash agreed. "However I said I planned on being late, but I don't want to be that late."
Miranda clamped down hard on the earlobe she had been gentling nibbling on. Ash swore in response but neither ceased their movements – instead they intensified. For several minutes they resumed their fierce kiss, tongues scraping against one another just as their bodies writhed and thrust. Both desperately wanted to feel more of the other, but they were determined to make do with their fingers working against each other's clit. The cold was momentarily banished in the pre-dawn darkness.
As often happened when Miranda touched her, Ashley found herself nearing orgasm all too quickly. The other woman's touch was driving her so close to the brink that each breath was little more than a hiss from between clenched teeth. While she fought to keep her own efforts as firm and rhythmic as possible, she felt her legs begin to grow weak beneath her.
"I'm…close!" she whispered urgently. Her free hand clutched at the back of Miranda's neck, fingers dragging through her hair. "M, please…slow. I want us…come…mmmph…together."
"A little faster…harder," Miranda hissed urgently into her ear. As Ashley complied, her own breathing quickened to the point where it was all she could hear inside her head. "Oh fuck…mmm…damn, that's perfect!"
"You're close?" Ashley asked tenderly.
"Mhmm," was all Miranda murmured into Ashley's hair.
From that point onwards, actual coherent words became both redundant and impossible. The awareness of both women dwindled until it was comprised entirely of their struggling bodies. Ashley grunted impatiently when Miranda's sweatpants hampered the rapid thrusting movement of her arm but she would not allow herself to pause long enough to drag them down. From the urgent breaths coming from Miranda's throat and the way her hand gripped the fabric on the back of her jacket, Ash knew she was close. The marine had hovered on the deliciously painful brink of her own orgasm for some time already. Through sheer willpower she held on until the second she heard an unintelligible cry catch in Miranda's throat. Ashley let herself go. The release that followed was all-consuming, to the point where she wasn't sure whether the stars were actually out or if her eyes were playing tricks on her.
Ash was aware of what followed as a series of staccato snapshots. Their bodies entwined like windblown trees that needed to rely on one another to stay upright. Her entire hand cupped Miranda's sex, revelling in the wet warmth and the gradually dying spasms of her lover's orgasm. Miranda's lips were pressed against the side of her neck where her breath created a tiny patch of moisture. She was dimly aware that her own underwear were soaked through and starting to cool against her skin in ways that were unpleasant. Ash eventually realised that Miranda was shivering in her arms.
"We need to get you inside," she eventually said, her words accompanied by the withdrawal of her hand. She wiped her fingers on her sweatpants and wrapped both arms around Miranda to keep her warm. "You'll catch your death."
Miranda shook her head. "I don't want to let you go, Ash." Her words were punctuated by a short, sharp sniff of the type that preceded tears.
"M…" Ashley whispered brokenly as she started to pull back.
"Don't you dare look at me, marine," Miranda hissed amidst her tears. "Just shut up and hold me with those damn huge biceps of yours. Just for a minute longer…then you can fuck off and go back to being a hero."
Thoroughly annoyed with herself for breaking down, Miranda squeezed her eyes shut against the flow of the tears. It was several minutes before she had managed to compose herself to the point where she could think about saying anything.
"Ash?" she asked. "Your sisters were trying to decide whether I was a ten or an eleven. I must confess that I have absolutely no idea what they were talking about and I don't want to offend them."
An almost carefree laugh escaped Ashley's lips. "Oh damn, it's awful but it's a scale of hotness with ten being the number of the perfect woman. You, Miranda Lawson, are undoubtedly an eleven."
Location Withheld
Shepard surprised herself by how quickly she had become accustomed to the restraints hampering her every movement. In trying to exercise whilst wearing them, she instinctively adapted to compensate. What she could not become used to was the aggravating sound they made every time she moved. The restraints clinked against every surface and seemed to rattle every time she even thought about moving. The incriminating sound served as a constant reminder of her of her status as a prisoner - that and the extremely precarious nature of her entire existence. From decorated Alliance hero, she was now essentially a non-entity.
Shepard gently eased her body into a plank position on the cold floor of her cell. The wrist restraints allowed for only a narrow base of support and her muscles protested slightly from just holding the plank let alone lowering herself to the floor. She dipped downwards several times with relative ease, but by the sixth push-up her body had already began to tremble with fatigue. She stubbornly forced herself to continue.
As she exercised, Shepard weighed up the scant information she possessed. Dr Stone had made it very clear just how little value the Alliance placed on her life let alone her comfort and sanity. Shepard still struggled with Stone's claim that it was the Alliance behind her imprisonment. To even acknowledge that the organisation to which she had dedicated much of her life condoned her treatment felt like a betrayal.
On only her thirteenth push-up, Shepard felt like her heart was going to explode. Come on, Ev, she urged herself. You used to be able to do this all-day long. Just five more.
Regardless of whether the information was true, Shepard emphatically refused to believe that either Hackett or Anderson knew anything about her incarceration. That they would eventually find out what had happened to her was one of the stubborn hopes she clung to.
Seventeen. Shepard hovered at the top of the movement, her arms shaking violently as they threatened to give out beneath her weight.
Of course her hope ignored the cruel reality that her own mother was implicit what was happening to her. Eighteen!
With a harsh exhalation Shepard collapsed hard against the floor. She lay breathing heavily, with the restraints digging into her body, for several moments before she could summon the energy to pick herself up. Rather than allow herself to simply give up, she manoeuvred into a balancing position on her buttocks and drew her knees to her chest. Even with the first extension of her legs, she felt just how little strength there was in her core. For someone so accustomed to being in peak physical condition, her frailty added to her anger and frustration. However, her own body was one of the few things she still had complete control over. Before Heller or someone else took that away from her, she would drive herself back to full fitness.
Fuck you, Hannah, Shepard thought angrily as she managed to find a rhythmic movement with her leg thrusts. Three, four, five. She soon lost count as her thoughts were taken over by relentless expletives directed toward the woman who used to be her mother.
Even when the door to her cell opened Shepard continued pushing through her movements. She expected that someone had come to tell her to stop, or perhaps even strap her back to the damn bed again. Shepard snorted. Who the hell were they to say she couldn't work out? She cast a cursory glance over her shoulder to see Dr Naomi Stone standing near the door with a tray of food in her hands and a concerned expression on her face.
"I thought you were a doctor," Shepard remarked, fighting to keep her voice as level as possible. "Yet you're bringing me my meals. Want to wipe my arse as well?"
She was in a foul mood and made no attempt to mask it. As sympathetic as Stone had been, she was still one of the perpetrators and not her friend.
"You shouldn't push yourself so hard," Stone said, ignoring Shepard's barbed question. She crossed to the bed and set the food down. "Your body is still very weak, exerting yourself like that could potentially send you back into shock."
Shepard did note that no guards had accompanied Stone into her cell, although she could see one hovering with beyond the door. It was an interesting observation. Even with the restraints, she would be able to overpower Stone in seconds if she desired. With barely a pause, she placed her bare feet on the floor and commenced doing sit-ups. Her abs were already protesting after the earlier exercise, they burned by the fifth one. Wordlessly, Stone hunkered down in front of her and pressed her hands against her feet to keep them fixed to the spot. Shepard's first observation was that the doctor's hands were pleasantly warm. It made a change from being constantly cold.
"I didn't think anyone around here was overly concerned with my welfare," Shepard commented as she pushed herself through each painful rise of her upper body.
"Well…some of us are," the doctor replied quietly. She watched Shepard with her lips parted slightly. Her voice lowered to a whisper, "You may have forgotten certain things from your past, but I haven't."
By this point in time Shepard's abdominals had erupted in a fierce pain that made every additional sit-up feel like her last one. Eventually she had to give Stone the satisfaction of seeing her stop out of sheer exhaustion. Rather than sit up and face the woman, she flopped down onto her back and lay staring up at the ceiling.
"I remember everything, Evan," Stone said as her hands lingered unnecessarily on Shepard's feet.
As soon as she felt the gentle but unexpected caress of one of the doctor's fingers against the top of her foot, Shepard forced herself into a sitting position. She dragged her feet back toward her body and out of Stone's grasp.
"The things you did to me that night…" Stone's voice trailed off, an unreadable expression on her face. She then caught herself and cast a worried glance toward the door. The guard outside was still not paying them any attention. "Sorry, you must be hungry."
Shepard's stomach responded for her with an insistent and audible rumble of hunger. She quickly stood unaided. However as soon as she went to take a step forward she tottered on her exhausted legs. Before she could fall, Stone wrapped both arms around her waist and held her steady. Although necessary, the contact felt overly intimate. Shepard felt her entire body stiffen in response. The last time someone held her, it had been Hannah Shepard. That had not turned out so well for her. For a few brief moments she remembered the tender manner in which Liara held her. Am I ever going to feel those arms around me again? she asked herself in a brief surrender to her despair. Stone's hand pressed just beneath her breasts.
"You could relax a little you know. I'm not here to hurt you," the doctor said quietly.
Shepard exhaled, letting out a breath that she did not even know she had been holding. "I'm not inclined to believe you, not as long as I'm still in this hellhole."
Stone helped her to the bed and then into a sit on the edge. The tray she subsequently handed her was laden with the same colourless, almost tasteless ooze she had been given every other day.
"You're not exactly a patient woman are you?" Stone replied, her mouth creasing into a smile.
Shepard shook her head as she began shovelling spoonfuls into her mouth. The food – if it could even be called that – slithered down her throat unpleasantly and left a filmy residue clinging to the inside of her mouth. They could have been poisoning her for all she knew but she was so hungry she didn't care.
"I might be able to arrange access to the small exercise facility we have here," Stone commented as she ate. "It's not much, but you would be able to walk on a treadmill – no running though, not until I give you the all clear."
Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Have you run that past Heller?" she asked with her mouth still full.
"I'm in charge of your day-to-day care," Stone replied, thrusting her chin forward defiantly. "If Heller doesn't like it, he can kiss my ass."
Although still wary, Shepard nodded. "I'd like that. Thank you." I've fucked dozens of women and the one that I barely remember is risking her life to help me. Why? Even as the thought lingered in her mind, Shepard knew that she could not afford to piss off her one ally and possible avenue of escape. She swallowed her last mouthful and fixed a small, hopefully friendly smile on her face. "I'm sorry about my earlier comment…you wiping my arse? It was rude and uncalled for."
Obviously pleased with her attempt at an apology, Stone shook her head. "No, you're understandably angry. Feel free to let it out on me as opposed to Heller or someone who carries a gun. Wiping your arse isn't exactly the worst thing I could do."
Shepard cringed inwardly in response to the tone in the other woman's voice, but externally she managed a slightly embarrassed grin before continuing, "Naomi, do you think you could swing a few other perks…on promise of good behaviour of course. For starters, this food…do you think you could get me something else?"
London, Earth
David gripped the battered mug in his hands. As he raised it to his lips and took a long swill, he wished the drink was something other than cold tea made from leaves that had already been used too many times. Without tearing his eyes away from the console in front of him, he wiped his other, work-dirtied hand on the thigh of his trousers. He then fumbled in his top pocket, slowly drawing out a folded photo. The photo remained clutched gently between his fingers while he re-read the words on the screen in front of him. When he lifted the mug to his lips to drain the dregs, it clattered slightly against his teeth.
Surely you're not scared, old man? he asked himself as he set the mug down. What can they possibly do to you that is worse than what you're living through?
With his hand freed from holding the mug, he stretched out and tapped his fingers against the actual physical keyboard to make a few edits to his work. When done, he sat back in his chair and stared at the screen. He didn't need to re-read the message yet again. David already knew that he had said everything that needed saying. Nor was he gifted enough with words to improve the quality of what he had written. There was no slant, no hidden message, no tricks – just the plain facts of what he had seen with his own eyes.
He reached absently for his mug. A frayed sigh escaped his lips when he remembered that he had already finished the drink. With nothing else to do he finally turned his attention to the precious item he held in his fingers. Reverently he opened the photo. As the smiling faces within were revealed, he found himself fighting back tears as per usual. Taken a lifetime ago, the image was a line-up of smiling faces – a snapshot of happiness. He had his eyes closed of course, but Amanda and the kids were so photogenic, all beaming and rosy-cheeked. David often wondered how a potential screw-up like him from the slums of the South-East had managed to end up with a picture-perfect family. Before he could give over to the tears completely, he carefully re-folded the picture and tucked it back into his pocket.
With nothing else to concentrate on, David turned his attention back to the message still clinging to the screen in front of him. His finger poised above the command key as he ran his gaze over the message one last time.
TO: enquiriesANN; WesterlundNews; mailGNN; GuardianNews; enquiriesDailyMail
FROM: region2ThamesWater
SUBJECT: Shepard
This may sound like the bullshit ramblings of a crazy guy. I'm not crazy – I fought the Reapers like a lot of other people and now I'm just a normal citizen with a job that happens to take me beneath the streets of London.
Two weeks ago I found Commander Shepard beneath the ruins of the Crucible. She was unconscious and in some sort of protective field that later collapsed. I held her body in my arms for several minutes. I've seen vids and pics of the soldier that she was – as we all have - but she was thin…weak, helpless – like she'd spent the previous six months sleeping. Hibernating? Don't ask me how the hell she survived, I'm no scientist. I'm just telling you what I saw and felt. I can't describe what I felt when she opened those pale blue eyes of hers and looked at me, but it was Shepard. Against all the odds, she survived.
The Alliance took over everything from that point. A captain named Prowse was on site and locked everything down. For days afterwards the Alliance swarmed all over the site and my crew and I were shipped out to a different location. Told me and my buddy not to breathe a word of her survival to anyone. I didn't originally see it spoken as a threat, but I'm beginning to think that it was. There are people out there that know that Shepard is alive and where she is. I don't know what reason they would have, or what kind of game they're playing, but someone, I don't know whether it is the Alliance itself, is hiding Commander Shepard.
All I'm asking you is to do some digging, ask some hard questions of the Alliance. Wherever Shepard is, I know she doesn't deserve to be hidden away. Regardless of the morale boost this would offer to everyday people trying to rebuild their lives, there are people out there that care about her and they deserve to know the truth.
[end message]
Before David could second guess himself, he stabbed his finger downward – just once. It hit the command key with an emphatic tap and a split second later his message disappeared into the ether. An odd sense of resignation settled over him as he sat staring at the blank screen. For some reason he expected to feel…something. There was nothing other than a sense that he had fulfilled his purpose.
A few minutes later David left his office with the sole focus of finding something stronger to drink than cold tea. If the Alliance was going to come for him, then he at least wanted the opportunity to get absolutely plastered first.
