Captain's Personal Log: Caleston Rift, Balor Cluster, Caleston

I sat on my couch staring at a bottle of whiskey. It was a game of chicken I played when I felt the urge to drink more than the two glasses I'd normally allow myself. I'd taken a break from what seemed to be a perpetual hunt for minerals across the galaxy. Our supplies for upgrades were thin and we needed to scavenge for them ourselves since Cerberus had apparently blown its wad on my resurrection and rebuilding the Normandy.

Someone pinged for admittance and without asking who it was, I shouted, "Go away, off duty!" I wasn't really. I doubted I could actually be off duty, being Commander Fucking Shepard and all that. I heard a series of clicks that told me my door was being hacked. I raked my fingers through my long, tousled blonde hair, stood up and walked around to look at my door, my hands on my hips, holding open my unzipped uniform jacket over the form-fitting black V-neck tank top I wore under it. I glared as the door slid open to reveal Miranda Lawson. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Lawson?"

"You wouldn't answer your comms and EDI wouldn't tell me what you were doing or where you were!" She sounded alarmed. I rolled my eyes, her assertion wasn't true, I'd left clearance for Tali, Garrus, Joker and Chakwas. Just not her.

"It's called a break, Miranda. Haven't you ever taken one?" I stood in the middle of my quarters, my fists still belligerently on my hips.

"I don't take breaks where my crewmembers can't reach me, Commander." She imitated my posture with her own fists.

"Oh, for… Get out."

"Commander, I need to speak with you. About Horizon. The Illusive Man…," she began, but I cut her off with a chopping motion of my hand.

"The Illusive Man can kiss my ass. Get out, Miranda." I crossed to the table and picked up the bottle.

Her blue eyes moved to the bottle in my hand, "Isn't it a little early to be drinking, Commander?"

"Isn't a little early to be a bitch, Miranda? I gave you an order. Get out."

She stood staring at me, challenging me. I advanced on her and I made sure she saw the violent intent in my expression. "I am not discussing Horizon beyond what I already put in my report, Lawson. I will not tell you again. Get out."

She backed up to my doorway, the portal sliding open at the touch of her boots on the pressure plate under the deck. "Commander, I –"

It was childish, I know. But other than shoving her out biotically, it was the only thing I could think of at the time. And it suited that part of me that had never quite left the gangs behind on Earth. I hefted the bottle, gave her a look and threw the cheap thin plastic bottle against the bulkhead next to the door. It shattered in an explosion of faux-glass and booze. She ducked at the impact then straightened up to stare at me. "That was an order, Miranda. If you have an issue with following my orders over The Illusive Man's, I suggest you get the hell off my ship."

She spun on her heel and fled my quarters. I had the childish hope that the whiskey stained her pristine white catsuit. I went to clean up my mess.

I didn't bother putting my hair back up or buttoning my tunic as I walked to my desk to resume my duties. About an hour after I sat back down to work, the speaker from the bug I'd placed in Miranda's cabin suddenly emitted Garrus' voice. I ran my fingers through my hair. I stopped working and looked down at the small microphone and recording device I'd repurposed to spy on my ostensible second-in-command. And given her insubordination, I was glad I'd had that foresight. It was audio only, but I didn't really need full pictures.

"You wanted to see me, Operative Lawson?" The turian's pleasant bass voice rumbled from the device.

"Please Officer Vakarian, have a seat. I'll be right with you," Miranda sounded too polite, what was she up to? Irritated Garrus was far more loyal to me than she expected? Or wanted? I placed a small bet with myself that she was going to try to get him to tell her what I would not.

I heard the door open again, "Miranda, what -?" Jacob's voice and the hatch slid shut behind him. I heard Miranda's chair slide back as she stood up. I could almost imagine her straightening that too-tight tunic of hers. It wasn't that I didn't like the woman. She just rubbed me the wrong way. And had a bad habit of thinking she knew everything and was always right.

"I want to know what happened on Horizon. Shepard's been acting strangely since you three got back. She's even more irritable than usual. She reduced an ensign to tears with a glare yesterday!" She was probably leaning her fists on the table, attempting to intimidate them into confessing. Hmm, I owed myself money.

I closed my eyes, waiting to see who would talk about me, talk about Kaidan Alenko and what he'd said. I wondered if she'd read the email. Nothing in that email took away the sting of "loved," though. I was getting tired of Miranda's insubordination. But a solution hadn't immediately presented itself. I'd kick her off the ship, but I actually did need her skills. And the ensign had deserved the tongue lashing I'd given him, he'd not paid attention to the Levo and Dextro labels on the food as he was putting supplies away from Gardner. He just the misfortune to be caught in his error by the Commander.

"We fought some Collectors, that's what. They took colonists. Shepard doesn't take that kind of thing lying down, Operative Lawson. You should know that, if you studied her file as much as you claimed to have." Garrus, remind me to give you a cookie later. One that won't kill you, of course.

I could hear the hesitation in Jacob's voice, "I really don't think anything else is our business, Miranda."

"It's our business if it affects the mission, Jacob. Now, tell me, what the hell happened on Horizon?" Miranda seemed close to losing her temper. The ice queen getting angry over me? Or over the loyalty I seemed to be earning?

I heard someone stand up. Since Garrus was the next to speak, I assumed it was he. "Nothing else that happened on Horizon is relevant to Shepard's performance as the commanding officer of this mission!"

Miranda's voice grew sly, "I know Commander Alenko was there, Garrus. "

Just tell her, gentlemen, I silently willed.

"I really don't think the Commander's personal life is relevant, Miranda. She got the job done and she'll continue to do so," Garrus' voice rumbled in defense of me.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and felt the need for the whiskey I'd just gotten rid of. I heard cloth over battle armor rustle and knew Jacob had crossed his arms, "I'm sure the Commander will tell you when she's ready to, Miranda."

"Well, I've asked the Commander, gentlemen. Her response was to kick me out of her cabin smelling like a distillery," she probably had her hands on her hips.

Garrus barked a short laugh, "That should tell you something, then, Miranda. She probably threw a bottle of booze against the wall. If you're done trying to get me to gossip about our commanding officer, I've got some calibrations to work on." Metal shod feet crossed to the hatch and left. I'd bet Garrus would have preferred to slam it, but doors don't really slam in the 22nd Century.

Jacob was still in there with her, his immediate senior and former commanding officer, "Well?" Miranda purred, "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

I heard Jacob stand up with a little more force than necessary, "If a fucking turian can keep his mouth shut, so can I. This was beneath you, Miranda." Rubber soled boots crossed to the hatch and left. I heard Miranda flop down gracelessly in her seat in defeat as the hatch closed behind Jacob.

I killed the feed and sat with my head in my hands for a little while. It was hard to be angry with her, after all, despite her insubordination. She wasn't hunting for gossip, or simply being nosy. She was being a good XO and trying to verify that I was still fit for command, even if I smelled The Illusive Man's dirty stench all over her actions. However, dragging our subordinates in? I stood up to fasten my tunic, fully intending to go down there and give that interfering harpy a piece of my mind. No matter her motivations, her unprofessional behavior needed to stop.

Before I could move, though, my own door chime sounded. Puzzled, I called, "Come in!" The hatch opened to show Garrus standing there in my doorway looking at me sympathetically, his scars twisting his face plates into a grimace. I resisted the urge to rush over and hug him for defending me. Commanding officers didn't do that.

I motioned for him to come in, putting my finger to my lips to remind him not to talk. He entered and glanced at the wall still stained and scratched by the bottle of whiskey. I heard him huff in a short laugh. I walked over and turned up the music on my bedside table. He stood awkwardly at the foot of the set of steps up into my office with his hands behind his back. "Thank you," I told him.

His mandibles moved in what passed for turian amusement, "Somehow, I'm not surprised to learn you had her office bugged. I figured you had, that's why I'm here, but I'm still not surprised that I was right. I wasn't about to tell her, you know."

I shrugged, "I was only able to repurpose one. And it took everything you ever taught me to do it. There are still dozens in here." I sighed. "I know you wouldn't tell her, Garrus. You don't gossip."

"Are you going to tell her?" he asked, rubbing his jaw.

I began to pace. "Tell her what? The person I love, loved, doesn't trust me, trust my judgment? Didn't want to try to hear my side? Didn't want to hear that I'd been dead for two years and somehow that's a personality flaw?" I was proud of the control in my voice, it only waivered a little. I would not cry again. Not in front of Garrus or anyone else. Alenko got the last tears from he would ever get. Anger, anger was a good emotion. It got me out of the slums of Houston; it would get me through this.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him twitch as if he would step forward, toward me. "Yes, I'll tell her. I was actually going to do so when you darkened my door."

"You'd think after hanging out with you humans so much the last few years, risking my life with you, I'd get used to your idiomatic expressions." Amusement colored his voice.

"We do it just to confuse you lesser species, you know," I told him, feigning haughtiness. I stopped pacing and stood grinning up at him, my hands on my hips, again, pushing my tunic back.

He snorted, "Who you calling lesser? We were breaking the atom when you were still drawing on cave walls, you overgrown monkey." Why were his hands still behind his back?

I waived my hand in dismissal, "Cave drawings to breaking the atom in less than fifty thousand years, you belligerent blue-jay. Monkeys do everything better and faster."

His mandibles clicked in amusement, "Not too fast, I hope." He froze and I had to laugh through my astonishment. "That was not – I mean –"

My grin grew. "Flirting? Garrus, you card!" His eyes widened in embarrassment and I had to laugh. "I'm joking, Garrus, really," I rubbed my eyes, careful not to smear the eyeliner. "I'm all right, go back to your calibrations."

He didn't move at first, he just stood looking at me. He seemed to have reached a decision and brought his hands out from behind his back. I looked at what he was holding and stumbled backward to land on the chair behind me. My heart pounded in my ears as he moved to sit on my couch in front of me. He held my old N7 helmet out. "Wha-? How?" I tore my eyes away from the battered red stripe and up to his blue eyes.

"I found it on Alchera." He turned it over and showed me the battered name plate at the base. My hand shook as I brought it to my mouth. Involuntarily my other hand trembled as I reached out to touch the plate and traced the blackened "S" of my last name. I slid off my chair and onto my knees, my eyes locked on it.

"Shepard, what are you doing?"

I felt wetness roll down my cheeks and my vision swam. I lurched to my feet and away from him. I rubbed my eyes, smearing my careful job with my eyeliner and mascara, after all. "Shepard? Are you all right? I thought you'd want it back?" There was a note of panic in his voice.

I couldn't turn around. I was shaking too hard and I probably looked like a red sand addict after a hard night. I hugged my arms around my chest and told him, "Yeah, thanks for finding it. Can you leave it on that table?"

I heard the clink of the metal of the helmet on the safety glass of the table and the creak of overworked armor as he stood up. "Shepard, turn around."

I wiped at my eyes, trying to get control of myself. "No, I don't think so. I can't look at it."

"It's a helmet, Shepard."

I swallowed. "I died in that thing, Vakarian."

"It's still just a helmet."

I spun, and met his eyes, "The fact that it was down on that planet means it wasn't on my body when Cerberus recovered it. It fell off at some point, Garrus." My hands went to my scars on my cheeks and forehead. I ran my fingers back over my scalp across the network of half healed wounds under my hair. "How much of me is me? What did they have to reconstruct, Garrus?"

He pulled my hands from my head and held them in his gloved ones, "Shepard, if it bothers you, I'll take it away."

I took a deep breath and pulled my hands away from him. "No. I have to face it some time." I walked around him to look down at that piece of metal and plastic that had protected me through firefight after firefight. I hoped it had protected me enough that what I thought was me, was, well… me. I thought I'd dealt with my death. Put it behind me. But presented with physical evidence of it made it less of a story that happened to someone vaguely Shepard shaped in the dim past and more as if it had really happened. Like the whiskey, I had to play chicken with it. It was just another demon.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Shepard? Now?"

I choked out a laugh, "Nah, it can wait," I waved my hand flippantly. "Maybe if we ask the Reapers nicely, they'll hold off their plans for galactic genocide and let me have a mental health day."

He put his hand on my arm and I shrugged it off. I picked up the helmet. I ran a finger down the cracked visor and up along the broad red stripe. I walked over to the second desk near my bed and sat the helmet on the corner near the wall. "Thank you, Garrus. For bringing that to me." I turned to look at him, certain I'd gotten my face back under control. "Now, please, you can go back to your calibrations."

He looked at me, his brow ridges drawn down in concern. "If you're sure?"

I looked at the helmet, "Yes, I'm sure. I'll be fine." He turned to leave.

"Wait." I looked down at my folded hands then back up at him where he turned to look at me. "Where did you put the memorial?"

His cheekplates flared in surprise and his eyebrow ridges went up, "Ashley's station. Like you asked."

I let out my breath. "Thank you." He nodded and continued out of my quarters.

I hoped I wasn't lying. I hoped that I hadn't buried it all too far down to deal with. I walked over and sat on my chair, drawing my knees up to my chest and stared at my old helmet. I suddenly had more important things to deal with than Miranda.