--Insanity--
--
Private Second Class Gina O'Conner took a deep breath, ready to start shouting. Profanity—and eloquent strings thereof—failed her. So, she was ready to start shouting. It was intolerable, the situation in which she found herself. As thunder boomed above her, rain beating down on the eaves of the walkway before this block of apartments, she supposed she ought to feel some gratitude that irony threw nothing more than water at her.
O'Conner never hung about with anyone who insisted on quoting old adages to her, not even useful ones, like measure twice, cut once, or make haste, slowly. She tended to find argument with any one of these phrases, though the intent remained plain, and applicable. If she had not gotten into such a rush, she would never have locked herself out of her apartment. Such actions should constrain themselves to hapless teenagers, not Alliance marines.
She tried manually unlocking the door, but had neither the tools nor the skills to use the tools even if she had them. All these locks had electronic components now, and she never developed the skills for dealing with such things. Her expertise, mostly, lay with putting rifle rounds in the ten-ring.
O'Conner kicked the door, earning herself a sore toe, and more irritation. Giving the door a half-hearted pound, as if hoping this would disengage the lock, she shook her head. There was only one thing left: she'd have to call in the big guns. At worst, Shepard would rake her over the coals. If she, O'Conner, kept this up, she would fail to break into her own apartment, slip off the back windowsill and plummet to a horrific duration of recovery.
The fall was not enough to kill her.
--J--
When O'Conner called before dawn, citing an emergency and asking Shepard to bring her omni-tool, Shepard seriously considered going back to sleep. She did not follow through with this course of action. O'Conner made it clear during the time between climbing off the transport from basic to now, that she and Shepard were friends. End of story.
Shepard initially had no say in the matter, which made her smile ruefully even now. She could admit to liking O'Conner. She could even admit liking to have O'Conner as a friend. But calls this early after a late night taxed a burgeoning friendship. The glare of red digits on the clock reminded Shepard of the long day ahead of her. Blast O'Conner and her morning jogging…
Shepard, yawning and shuffling, heard O'Conner before she came into view.
O'Conner's litany of abuse was not clearly audible, but having heard similar words often enough in basic gave Shepard a good idea what O'Conner meant. She did worry about O'Conner getting so worked up this early in the morning.
It wasn't healthy.
"I'm here…" Shepard ended up having to repeat this, since she yawned halfway through. "It's too early."
"Shepard!" O'Conner's eyes darted to Shepard's wrist. "…you know anything about locks?"
Shepard stifled another yawn. "What kind of…oh, you didn't…" O'Conner's door bore distinct black marks at ankle height. Apparently O'Conner had done more than swear at the door. No wonder it remained resolutely locked.
"Yeah, I know." O'Conner waved. "I figured, you'd, you know…"
"It's all 'geek' to you. I know." Shepard, smiling at the number of times O'Conner could put on word or phrase in a sentence, examined the lock. There was no point asking why O'Conner could not have gone jogging, waiting until later to have the lock looked at. Knowing O'Conner as she did—which was not well, but O'Conner was not hard to get to know—Shepard was sure O'Conner simply left something in her apartment she needed. Couldn't a runner survive without jogging music?
Shepard prodded the lock, making a show of frowning thoughtfully. This was not unlike the locks back at her high school on Mindoir. Shepard cut the thought, constraining herself to the matter at hand. "I dunno, O'Conner…you may need to call a locksmith."
"Can you try?"
Shepard tried, deliberately failing twice. "Do you know what the definition of insanity is?"
"You, punishing me for dragging you out of your shoebox last week?" O'Conner asked, in a tone of long suffering.
"Close." Last week's trip off base ended up wilder than Shepard anticipated, culminating in a bar fight—Shepard's first. She was still unsure how O'Conner got them out of the aftermath, with only a slap on the wrists from the local law enforcement, but she had. "But no."
"What?" O'Conner frowned at the back of Shepard's head.
"The definition of insanity is the unvarying repetition of an action or series of actions in the hopes of producing a different outcome."
"You don't eat fortune cookies for breakfast, do you?" O'Conner asked, with teasing interest.
"I'm saying if it doesn't work this time, I'm not delving into the realm of insanity this early in the morning, because you locked your keys in the house."
Surely Shepard wasn't developing a sense of humor? O'Conner brightened at the prospect. "I've got complete faith in you." O'Conner patted Shepard's shoulder, more gently than she might have otherwise. She did not want to interfere with whatever Shepard was doing. It looked complicated.
Shepard cued her omni-tool. "Put your serial number in," she awkwardly held up her wrist so O'Conner could obey.
A moment later, the locking mechanism in the door clicked as the signals within setting it to 'lock' were interrupted.
"You are the best. The queen of geek-nerds." O'Conner vanished into the apartment.
"Does that mean I'm off the hook next time you want to hit the town?" Shepard had worked out that O'Conner liked dragging her around because O'Conner found her good company. Also, if O'Conner somehow got into trouble, she counted on Shepard not let her face it alone.
"You know there're always plenty of single guys wherever we go! Or you would if you bothered looking!"
It was worth a try…again, Shepard sighed.
Insanity. It was everywhere.
