For one who carried a reputation as large as Tali'Zorah vas Normandy, sneaking onto the Normandy was less of a matter of sneaking as much as a matter of simply entering. The security guards waved at her in a friendly manner without question as she passed, not bothering to make a request for her identification.
Were she not going behind the back of the current commander of the ship, she would inform him that they needed to revise their security measures. She had no clearance beyond her reputation to enter the ship at that time, and an imposter could have easily recreated her suit.
As it were, she entered the silent ship, the door gliding closed behind her. Only the emergency lights were illuminated, and the gentle light of dawn poured in through the cabin, setting the familiar machinery alight. She approached the nav console, attached her homemade tracking device beneath it, and stepped by with a short sigh.
There was no hesitation in her actions; her mind had been made up already. The action was a small reparation to Miranda for bringing back Shepard years ago, and going against the Council's wishes by assisting the Alliance was vindication against the group that were a… what was the idiom Shepard used? "Thorn in my side"?
"Well that's that," she muttered to herself. The task proved simple, but she still felt her ears burn with shame at the thought of what she had done. Regardless of her justification, she had displayed distrust towards Kaidan in order to aid Miranda; even worse, she had displayed distrust towards Shepard to aid Coats and Hackett.
I understand, Tali. I would be more concerned if you trusted me than if you didn't.
Her gaze flew upwards, her burning shame reaching her eyes as tears pooled there. So desperately she wanted to trust Shepard, but the line between him and their sworn enemy - the Reapers - was growing more blurry. Although they believed that Shepard now controlled the Reapers, what proof did they have? Dreams, speculation? A hope that if Shepard wascontrolling the Reapers, he would maintain that control?
I'll show you, Tali.
She let out an audible gasp as the world suddenly spun around her, the floor moving beneath her feet. Trembling hands reached out to grasp the nav console for support.
I'll show -
Blackness was closing in at the edges of her vision. She couldn't faint, not here, not when -
- you, Tali.
The floor was so cool on her knees, she could feel it beneath her suit. She felt a sudden urge to remove her mask and rest her bare cheek on it, to feel the cool tile against her skin. When did she become so tired? She felt like she hadn't slept in days.
Tali…
Perhaps she would rest, just for a moment. It was the Normandy,it was safe.
Tali.
She was just so, so exhausted. She had been carrying so much weight on her shoulders for so long.
Tali.
The floor was cool beneath her hands, too.
Tali.
And her side.
Tali.
Shepard lay on his side beside her, making incoherent doodles on her mask with his gun-calloused fingertip. Blue eyes bright with mirth, he was laughing at something she said; at what, she couldn't recall.
"I love you."
The words had come out of his lips so quickly, so unexpectedly, Tali wondered if he meant to say them at all. For a flash of a moment his eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly hid it with a cocky, sideways grin. He may not have intended to say the words at that exact moment, but he had been thinking them for a long, long time.
He punctuated the declaration by drawing a human rendition of a heart on her visor.
In return she whispered, "I love you too, Shepard."
The smile he returned was brighter than anything she had seen before.
Lids heavy and gummy, Tali's eyes flickered open. No longer was she on the bed in the Normandyof her dream; she was on the floor of the cockpit again, cold and unyielding beneath her form.
Yet Shepard was still beside her.
Alarmed, she sat up quickly; the swift movement from her groggy state made her head spin and she closed her eyes while the room righted itself.
Shepard was still there, smiling wryly.
"Hello, Tali."
Through dry lips she muttered incredulously, "You…"
She closed her eyes and shook her head.
Was this real?
Was hereal?
She counted to five, swallowing the cotton in her throat. For so long she thought she had been losing her mind, listening to Shepard's requests intruding into her thoughts, dreaming of him night after night. But to see him, in a corporeal form, right here, right now…
What did it mean?
Was he back? Was this another dream? Or perhaps the dream was still lingering in the corners of her thoughts, sticking in place like spiderwebs. She couldn't succumb to false hope, not again.
Shepard was dead.
Shepard was gone.
Not here, not now, not with her, not ever again.
And when she opened her eyes again, he was gone, and that hole in her heart where he had inserted himself so long ago ached and burned like a raw wound with the scab ripped off.
"Tali?" Another voice; Kaidan's, perhaps? "Tali!" Her name in Kaidan's voice was laced with fear and worry; his reassuring hand pressed into her shoulder. She was shivering; she hadn't realized how cold she was until then.
"Are you okay?" Kaidan's words were rushed, and when her gaze found him, his brows were furrowed in worry.
"I'm fine," she breathed, her dry throat turning her words muddled. Quickly she remembered that she wasn't supposed to be here, and from the vestiges of her memory she pulled out a blurred lie. "I came to grab my tool bag from Engineering and I thought I saw… something." She checked Kaidan's expression, but no suspicion lay there, only worry.
"Are you hurt?"
"No, no, I...think I fainted. I must need rest."
Kaidan helped her up, steadying hands remaining on her shoulders. "Come on, I'll have Private Westmoreland escort you back to the apartment. Get some rest, you sound awful."
The war had taught James that his own desires no longer took precedence. His desire for real food, dios miofor real coffee, for a comfortable bed, for N7 candidacy… all had taken the backburner to the need to fight the Reapers.
Now that the Reaper fight was over - at least, for the moment - he was needed elsewhere: on Earth, aiding in recovery. His raw strength and endurance made him excellent at moving heavy debris for entire days, and his leadership skills meant he had been assigned a team, with the goal of repairing a gaping hole in the side of an upper wing in the central hospital.
Between the fight against the Reapers, finding a way off of Eden Prime, and rebuilding efforts, he had almost forgotten about N7 candidacy.
Almost.
Until he found himself summoned to Admiral Hackett's office early on a misty Sunday (or at least, he thought it was Sunday; the days of the week blurred together lately).
Hackett didn't revert to pleasantries, getting straight to the point as soon as Vega snapped a salute.
"Lieutenant Vega, I brought you here today to discuss the N7 program."
James' knees weakened at the words, hope rising in his chest like sunlight.
Hackett continued, "The galaxy is in shambles and we lost countless N7 designates during the war. We need outstanding Alliance marines more now than ever to be a paragon for our people, to help us rise from the ashes of the Reapers. And I want you to be in the first program."
A lone bead of sweat cascaded down James' forehead, but he otherwise found himself immobile. For the first time in months, he felt hope, hope for the future, hope for himself. He was receiving something that he had wanted for longer than he could remember.
Yet why did he feel that this was undeserved? That he was unready to join the ranks of the best of the Alliance, the rank of Shepard himself? Would he be able to rise up to their demands, or would he falter again, just as he had done on Fehl Prime? How could the Alliance trust a man who had let them down so badly before?
His doubts escaped his lips before he could stop them. "Are you certain that I'm the best candidate, sir?"
A faint smile brushed along Hackett's lips. "I'm certain, Lieutenant."
"But I've-"
"Fehl Prime?" Hackett interrupted. At James' raised brows, Hackett smiled knowingly. "I've been debriefed. If I was in your shoes on that planet, marine, I would have done the same as you. It takes a brave man to choose the needs of the many over the needs of the few. It's the kind of level-headed decisiveness we look for in N7 candidates."
A rare emotion stirred in James' chest, one he had pushed far down since that fateful day, one which brought with it no small amount of shame.
It was pride.
"You'll be training at Arcturus Station, your ship departs tomorrow at 0700 hours from Bay E34. Bring only essentials, all weapons and armour will be provided for you."
Standing tall, he snapped another salute to Admiral Hackett. "I won't let you down, sir."
Vega could have sworn Hackett winked at him. "I know. Dismissed."
Once outside of Hackett's office, James stopped to listen to his heartbeat thudding in his ears.
He was going to the N7 program.
But before he did, he had two urgent matters to attend to: he had to attend Shepard's memorial that afternoon, and he had to find Jack.