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Chapter 12
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Memories
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With an oath uttered in unison, the couple broke their silence, and the wedding ceremony was complete. The room erupted into applause, ranging from the polite clapping of dignitaries to the raucous cheers and two-finger whistling of a certain Jack. Slowly, the lights started to come on in the great hall. Steve Cortez looked around. The room was eighteenth-century, or styled to look so. There were painted portraits on the walls, which were white and crimson. The ceiling was moulded and sculpted, white with accents of gold, and huge, brightly shining chandeliers hung the length of the room.
With the flick of a switch, they had been transported from the Iron Age to a Regency ball.
Shepard had said the ceremony was simple. And it was, actually- it was just the lighting and finery that were intricate and strange. Still, it was very... different. Not bad different, just alien different.
Shepard and Liara had their arms around each other. So adorable. They were probably relieved to have gotten through it, as much as anything. Steve remembered his own wedding day, all those years back. He was sure there wasn't as much pressure on guys as on girls when it came to getting married, what with picking dresses and being expected to look like some kind of perfect goddess in white even if you were forty-nine and built like a bulldog, but still, the sheer gravity of the event had been overwhelming. He had barely heard the priest over his own heartbeat in his ears. Robert had been even worse- the poor man had spent half the morning throwing up. Ridiculous really. The backbone of the Alliance Navy...
Steve brushed a tear from his eye. He was over losing Robert. He really was. It was just the emotion of the day, stirring things up.
Vega nudged him in the shoulder. "Hey, cheer up man. It's supposed to be a wedding!" Steve shot a glance at his companion, who was smirking at his own hilarity. James Vega. A man shaped like a romper suit filled with potatoes, and with a brain to match. His best friend in the whole galaxy. How had that happened?
In all honesty, what had initially drawn him to Vega, when they had first served together, was probably simply the pleasure of speaking with a fellow hispanophone. Translation tools being the wonderful invention they were, he could understand practically any human language, plus those of the spacefaring alien species- hell, Robert had been an English speaker. But sometimes it was nice to know that the words you heard in your head were actually those being said. To have lip sync.
Cortez sighed and decided not to rise to it. He nodded over to the happy couple. "Liara looks amazing, doesn't she?" She really did. Her gown seemed to be woven of jewelled spiderwebs- all purple and silver.
Vega shrugged. "They're both pretty damn hot, what can I say. Of course, you'll have to take my word for that." He scratched his chin. "Hey, why isn't Shepard in a dress?"
"Oh, I know that one. I heard asari have a taboo against non-asari wearing traditional wedding clothes-"
"A ta-what?"
"It means Shepard can't wear the beads because she isn't asari."
Vega shook his head. "Then why not a wedding dress?"
Cortez paused for a moment. "Good question, actually." Then he snapped his fingers. "Ah! I have it. It's because she's a Commander in the Systems Alliance Navy."
Vega opened his mouth, then shut it with a humph. Score one to Cortez.
The guests were starting to file out of the hall. Vega moved towards the doors, gesturing to Steve.
"Hey, órale! I can smell the buffet from here."
Steve followed after him without argument. There was indeed a fascinating mixture of smells wafting through the open doors which led to the area where the reception was to be held. Being a multi-species event, inevitably not all the smells were actually pleasant to a human nose, but the majority were- so long as he knew which platters to avoid, the night was looking promising.
The room they passed into was probably larger than the one with the candles. A number of massive tables, piled high with food, were arrayed in the centre of the room, with signs explaining how the platters were coded. Red tags meant levo-, blue meant dextro-, and from there on the system rose in complexity. Most people knew the drill, but at an event like this there would always be at least one careless eater doing the 'dextro-run' to the nearest lavatory. Probably more than one. His own reception had had one corner of a table for dextro- options, just in case, and a couple of pinches idiotas from logistics had still decided to try their luck. Cortez knew to stick to red, obviously, but to avoid red with a white strip, indicating dairy, or a thin black strip, indicating asari seed products, which brought him out in a rash.
The rest of the room was filled with a variety of sizes of table, informally laid. Most of the military brass and political types were offering stiff congratulations to Shepard and Liara back in the hall, and would be leaving after, allowing everyone else to drink themselves stupid in a more relaxed, open collar environment.
Then Vega suddenly stopped and turned to Steve, who consequently almost walked into him.
"Hey, Cortez, before we get started- are you okay, man?" The big marine furrowed his brow. Steve found himself genuinely touched at his concern. It was nice to be reminded of the big heart that lay buried beneath all that genetically tweaked machismo. He took a deep breath and looked around.
"I think so", he replied. "Just, memories, you know?" He smiled. James smiled back.
