The Normandy was, thankfully, quiet when he got back. A few crewman worked idly at their stations, glancing up as their commander passed through the CIC. Their eyes widened as they took in the state of the man, and they looked quickly back to their work. Shepard said nothing, striding down the stairs and into his cabin, avoiding any interaction with Pressly as his XO's face lit up with alarm. There was still time left before they left the Citadel. He needed a shower, and sleep.
He peeled his shirt off tenderly, wincing as it slid over the gouge on his ribs. His hand throbbed. His face throbbed. His head was still fuzzy with the effects of too much whiskey. He stripped off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower. The water fell over him, scalding and stinging, and he relished in the feeling. He stood there for a while, his mind blissfully empty. What a shit fucking day.
He toweled off and slipped on a shirt and boxers before sliding into his bed. He knew he was bleeding on his sheets, but in his current mental state he found it hard to care. Everything was blurry – the heady combination of stress, exhaustion, and alcohol making it difficult to focus the lights. He was too tired to feel his usual anxiety before falling asleep. His vision began to darken, and a dreamless sleep enveloped him.
When he awoke, it was to a pounding headache. He groaned. Shit. He brought his hand up to cover his eyes and block out the artificial lights he must have left on through the night, but stopped as a sharp pain shot through it. Double shit. His hand was swollen and brusied. He tried unsuccessfully to bend his last two fingers. Bending to get up, he winced again. Bloody sheets and the lash in his side told him the previous day's events had, indeed, been real.
The commander stood, trying to ignore his body's protests. A glance in his mirror revealed an angry black eye. Real fucking nice, Shepard. He ran his good hand through his hair, then went to try to struggle into some casuals. With a quick message to Pressly, relieving him of duty, Shepard sat at his desk and crudely splinted his worst fingers before picking up a datapad to run over some of the night's reports. He was going to avoid seeing Chakwas as long as he could.
Sometime later, his seclusion was interrupted by a knock at his door. His brow furrowed. Who the hell? He had sent out take-off orders, plotted their destination, and issued the usual shift commands. There was nothing that required his attention. He sighed.
"Come in."
The door opened, and Garrus stepped through cautiously, mandibles drooping as his eyes fell on the commander. "Thought so." The turian muttered, sitting down in a chair across from Shepard.
"What do you need, Garrus?" Shepard fell back into the command routine. He didn't have the energy for more. Garrus' mandibles fluttered before continuing.
"I got a call last night from an old buddy at C-Sec." The turian watched him in true cop fashion – cool and appraising, watching for any tells. "Said some guy was raving about how he kicked some thugs' asses down in the Wards with Commander Shepard."
Fucking Conrad. "I wouldn't know anything about that." Shepard murmured, glancing back at his datapad.
"Right. He probably just broke the jaws of two guys alone, without getting a scratch." Garrus droned. "The blonde goatee and autographed picture gave him away as a badass."
Damn. Forgot about that. He sighed. "He was being mugged. I couldn't just let it happen." Now I almost wish I did.
Garrus quirked a brow curiously. "So you ditched us to go serve some vigilante justice?"
A hand came up through his hair. "No. I just was in the area. I had…things to do."
"Real descriptive, Shepard. You do realize when you disappear and come back looking like this, people are going to ask questions, right?" Garrus frowned, his mandibles drooping once more.
It's none of their damn business. "I don't want to talk about it, Garrus." His voice left no room for debate.
The turian raised his talons in surrender. "You don't have to, not to me. All I'm trying to say is hiding in here, shutting out everyone else – we've noticed." Shepard frowned at his assessment. "I get what you did. Those guys deserved it. But from what I heard, you were pretty far gone when you went looking for trouble. I know you have some skeletons in your closet, and how you deal with them is your business. But whatever it is that got you in that state isn't something you should handle alone."
He glared at the turian, his green eyes narrowing critically. "You can stop investigating me anytime, Detective Vakarian."
The turian didn't flinch. He simply chuckled. "Sorry, Shepard. Old habits die hard." He moved to stand.
"Aren't turians generally more respectful towards their commanders?" Shepard asked as Garrus moved towards the door.
The ex-cop laughed, mandibles flaring in a grin. "Dad always said I was a terrible turian. I'll see you later. I need to realign the Mako before you crash into something again on our next drop." He said, shaking his head disapprovingly and exiting Shepard's cabin.
The commander watched him go, still frowning. He wasn't used to that kind of talk from anyone but Anderson. That he had been so careless and unprofessional a member of his crew had to talk to him about it was a problem. He couldn't keep doing it. Not when so much was at stake. He sighed, sending a final message in reply to Admiral Kahoku about missing marines, and stood up. Gently, he touched the cut in his side. Blood had soaked through his shirt again. Mustering up his courage, he left his cabin to head to the medbay.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Chakwas had been furious. She had taken care of his wounds none to gently with stiches, splints, and globs of medigel, all the while chastising him for his indecent treatment of his own body. Her voice had risen enough to make Liara curious, peaking in curiously and widening her eyes at the shirtless, beaten Shepard. The commander had simply sighed, taking it in silence as one doctor scolded and the other fussed over his injuries.
That was when Ashley walked in.
"Hey, doc…" And she stared at him. Shepard rubbed the back of his neck, unsure what to make of her scrutiny as he glanced over her shoulder to see her face. It wasn't angry or scolding like Chakwas'. There was none of the near-comical worry Liara was imposing on him. She looked as if she had been stricken, her brown eyes wide as she took him in. Chakwas had stopped her onslaught, giving Shepard back his hand as she glanced up at the soldier. "I'll come back." Ashley finally announced after a moment, beginning to back out.
"No, I'll be finished with him in a moment. Sit down, I'll take a look at how that leg is healing." Chakwas gestured quickly to the empty bed next to Shepard. Ashley looked like she wanted to argue, but looked about as up to the task as Shepard was with the doctor.
"You're sure you're okay, Commander?" Liara questioned him, looking over him once more. "I can't get you anything?"
Why the asari thought she needed to dote on him, he had no idea. He had hardly talked to the girl – a little about her mother before and after Noveria, a quick check-in that she was feeling alright. It was ridiculous. "I'm fine, Liara. Really." He sighed. She sighed, but nodded and gave him a smile before walking back to her room. He rubbed a hand over his scruffy jawline. "Can I put my shirt on now?" He pleaded, looking up to Chakwas who was applying a last few dabs of medigel to a cut on his cheek.
"Fine, fine. The gash should heal well enough with the medigel, despite your determination to get an infection from leaving it open and dirty overnight." She harped. He was already reaching for his shirt, however, and pulled it on gratefully over his head. The commander dared a glance over at Ashley. Her eyes bored into his, challenging. "Really, Commander. This must stop. You get yourself injured far too often, and too often it's mysteriously outside of combat. No more." Chakwas continued angrily. He didn't look away from Ashley.
"Yes, ma'am." He muttered, pushing to get up as she stepped away. "Thanks."
Chakwas harrumphed and moved over to Ashley. "Alright, off with those." She gestured towards Ashley's pants. "Commander, you'll kindly excuse us."
With that, he was effectively dismissed.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
She was stunned. Shepard sat in front of her, his upper half bare and exposed as the doctor worked on him. What the hell had he gotten himself into last night? He was a mass of cuts and bruises, looking like he stumbled out of a bad bar fight.
Had he? She simply stared. She didn't know what to make of the man, bare back and covered in scars. That wasn't unusual for a marine, but with the number than riddled his body, he had to work for it. Especially due to medigel's uncanny ability to help prevent scarring. That meant he'd gotten them either before he had access to a decent medic, or that he had simply not bothered to go to one. As she listened to Chakwas scold him, she felt it could go either way.
Ashley continued staring. She watched irritably as Liara fawned over him, her hands everywhere before he dismissed her. How the asari involved herself in the situation, she didn't know, but it annoyed her to watch the girl with him. Shepard, however, seemed not to pay attention. The moment the blue woman left, he stared back at her.
His look was questioning, daring her to ask what had happened. And she damn well would. She knew it wasn't her business, but she wanted an explanation from the man as to why one minute he had waited for her outside of Flux and the next left her there. Why he left her there to disappear, and then reemerge looking like this. She stared at his green eyes, trying to riddle out the emotions that coursed through her at the sight of him like this. But before she could think of anything but the pure shock of it, the why and how, he was slipping his shirt back on and standing.
Chakwas demanded something of her pants, but her eyes were still with his. He gave her a fraction of a nod, then left. No questions answered and her riddle unsolved.
"Chief Williams? I need to examine your leg." Chakwas stared at her dubiously, before following her gaze towards the closing door. The doctor rolled her eyes. "The man is undoubtedly a bigger mystery than any of us can hope to solve. Now, pants, please." Ashley obeyed.
"Have you known him long?" Ashley probed, watching as the doctor prodded her.
"As well as you can know him." She commented, sighing. "I've worked with him since he started on the Normandy. Captain Anderson knew him a long time before that, however."
"And I take it he does this often?"
Chakwas scowled. "Not often, but occasionally enough that it's a nuisance. He…" She looked like she wanted to say more, but stopped herself. "I'm afraid his ailments aren't mine to discuss. If you wish to ask him, you're welcome to try. He doesn't communicate nearly as much as he should." She murmured, then stepped back from the soldier. "There, all done. You should be set, Chief. Be sure to avoid projectile toxins in the future."
Ashley gave the doctor a questioning look, but decided to let it go. She stepped into her pants. "Will do, ma'am. Thanks." She said with a smile. The woman was good at her job. With a wave, she left the medbay to head back to her station. She fought the idea of barging into Shepard's cabin and demanding answers. What the hell is your problem, Williams. He's your commanding officer. Get him out of your head and do your job; he'll do what he wants.
Her mind was filled with this mantra on the absurdly long elevator ride to the hangar. Getting back to work would do her some good. Staying up all night with the freak squad was fun, but she had spent half her time looking at the door, half-expecting him to show up. She felt like an idiot for it. She would figure out some other way to entertain herself on the Normandy – Shepard could no longer be it.
Of course, all efforts towards putting him out of her mind left when she saw him. The elevator doors opened, and he looked from his discussion with Wrex to her. He dismissed the krogan with a nod and the beast gave a rumbling chuckle.
"Ashley, have a minute?" He sounded tired.
"Sure, Commander." Keep it professional. She started walking towards her workbench.
She felt his gaze on her back before she heard him follow. "I just…" The man's brow furrowed. The hand that wasn't bandaged ran through his dark hair. He stared at her with intense green eyes. "I wanted to apologize, for last night. I'm sorry I had to leave you like that."
Her face pulled up in surprise. "It was fine, Commander." Her voice was short. She glared back at him stubbornly. "I'm able to take care of myself. Doesn't look like you can say the same, sir." She said, glancing over him again.
"Yeah, well, whiskey will do that to you." He muttered, obviously not planning on elaborating.
"So you ditched us losers to go drink with someone better?" She arched a brow at him, pushing. "Got a lady waiting on the Citadel, sir?"
"No…Wait, what? No." He looked thoroughly taken aback by the question.
"Good to know. So, why did you?" She pushed more.
"Why did I what?" God, he's dense sometimes.
"Ditch us."
"Oh." Shepard frowned. "I just had to ta-"
"If you say you had to take care of some things, I will give you a matching black eye." She grumbled. His eyes widened in shock. "Sir."
The man sighed, almost visibly tensing. He ran a hand over his scruffy, handsome face. She was momentarily distracted, but got back on task. She crossed her arms expectantly.
"Ashley…" He closed his eyes and took in a breath. "I just…can't. I can't talk about it. I handled it, it's done."
"It looks like it handled you." She didn't let up. She knew she was pushing beyond professional boundaries, but he was obviously hiding something. And from the way his eyes darkened, she had to know. "I'm part of your team. I should have been there to help, but you told me no. I obeyed an order I didn't fully agree with. I'm only asking why, sir."
Shepard turned around to lean over and place his hands on her work bench, fists clenching. "You know, I'm not a big sharer." His voice was a growl.
"Yeah, I've noticed that." She kept her gaze leveled at him. She wasn't going to give up that easy.
The man waited a few moments, then took a deep breath. "There was a girl. Talitha." His voice was distant. His fists clenched harder. "She was a former slave that had been with batarian slavers for about 13 years." There was something dark in his eyes. "She got away from the people that saved her. She was going to kill herself. They called me to talk her down."
"Why you?" She asked, her voice softer.
"That, you're going to have to figure out yourself." Shepard pushed himself back from the table harshly. "Suit up, Williams. We're hitting Feros in three hours." Her commander turned and walked away without a second glance.