Shepard's hands were shaking as she tried to line the pieces up. This was supposed to be calming dammit! The small, intricate models with all their fiddly pieces was supposed to require focus, forcing her brain to concentrate on a specific, localised problem and then experiencing a sense of accomplishment when the model was complete. At least, that's what she'd been told. It had sort of worked in the past. When she'd spent too many nights in a row in the war room, enough for someone to notice and tell her to go get some rest, she'd come up and work on the models, passing the time until she could get away with leaving her cabin to get on with something useful once more. Avoiding sleep had enabled her to build quite the fleet.

Her hands trembled once more, her breathing fluctuating as her mind pulled her against her will, back into that moment. Stars all around, more blocked from her peripheral vision only by her helmet. Air cold as ice. Breath frantic and laboured as the oxygen runs low...

She threw the incomplete model across the desk, clenching her fists so tight her short fingernails dig into her palms, trying to ground herself in reality. This is ridiculous. She shouldn't be thinking of this. Sure, there was a moment earlier on the way to the geth ship. That was understandable. She had been alone in the void, nothing between her and the vacuum of space but her hard suit. Peripheral vision blocked by a helmet once more. Anyone would have had flashbacks at that. But she'd pulled through. Finished the mission and went on to the next one. She'd been fine on Rannoch. Not fine like people asking if she's OK fine, but actually fine. Better than fine. Good. In the zone. What the hell was her brain playing at? She was Commander Bloody Shepard. The galaxy needed her. She couldn't just sit here like... like... She needed a distraction.

A glance around the cabin didn't offer much inspiration. Her gaze falling back on the models. Building them clearly wasn't working but... the display case between her desk and bed was full, the case on her right containing only a solitary ship. It looked lonely. She started pulling models off the stand, repositioning them on the other wall.

A geth cruiser, last time I looked out a window they were firing at us *move*. The Destiny Ascension, lost in the Battle of the Citadel *move*. Sovereign, hell even if it wasn't destroyed it certainly wouldn't be on our side. *move*. After a few minutes of reordering she looked at the much smaller model fleet, able to see large chunks of the other side of the room unimpeded. It made for a somewhat depressing visual representation of war assets. Next time we dock I'll have to look for a model Volus bomber, we've got some of those.

The distraction had worked but was far too brief. She considered repositioning them again: alphabetical order, size order, chronologically according to date built, numerically according to each models' catalog product code. It would be futile, much better to just go down to the war room and do something useful.

She pulled up the ship's schematics with real time crew locators. There should have been a shift change in the war room by now. She cursed under her breath as she saw Admiral Raan still there. Doesn't she have her own ship? Just because the Normandy's the best vessel in the galaxy doesn't mean everyone has to try and stay on it!

Some deep, hidden, childish recess of her brain briefly contemplates setting a course for another star cluster, imagining the Admiral's reaction when she realises she's no longer with her fleet. Feigning ignorance that she was still aboard; "I'm sorry, I thought you'd gone back to the Tonbay." The smile fades from her face as she remembers Hackett's words: 'We need the quarian fleet'. Hopefully punching Gerrel had been counterweighted by saving Koris, but she was running out of admirals and hated to think what she'd have to do for Xen to make it up if she kidnapped Raan.

She searched the rest of the ship on her tool, hopeful that maybe Vega or Garrus were hosting another Skyllian Five tournament she could crash, but they were both asleep in different locations. Liara was nearly as bad at resting as her, maybe she could convince the asari to let her share the workload. And if Liara tries to tell me to take a break from work I can force her to stop being hypocritical and take some downtime too. A win-win situation, perfect plan... Damn it! How? How is that bitch asleep? She's never asleep!

She smiles as a single ID awake in the mess catches her attention. Of course. Why didn't I think of her before? She'd been craving a diversion and there she was, the Queen of distraction herself. She opens a voice chat via omni-tool.

"Traynor, don't you ever sleep?"

...

Samantha had managed almost 4 hours of sleep earlier that night before the nightmares of Horizon pushed their way through. Now she sat with a cup of tea in the empty mess hall watching old Earth TV shows that had been remastered to holovid. She had a particular fondness for sci-fi shows from before first contact. She loved seeing the imagination at work, how close or absurdly far humanity's ideas of aliens were before they knew the truth. Most of the time even the originally serious shows were a great source of comedy. Nowadays a show featuring aliens was just as likely to be a soap opera as it was sci-fi. They were even rapidly reaching the point where they could accurately appear in human made historical dramas. Her thoughts were interrupted by a bleep on her omni-tool.

"don't you ever sleep?" Pot, kettle much? Traynor thought as she subconsciously analysed the commander's tone and wording. It had been something of a roller-coaster day as far as the commander's mood was concerned but it sounded safe, she went for light banter.

"Sleep is for tortoises." A chuckle the other end indicated she'd made a good choice.

"Tortoises? I don't think I've heard that one before. I'm just glad you didn't say 'for the dead'. We're the only off-duty personnel still up, I'd hate to think the Normandy was being staffed by zombies."

"Don't worry you're the only undead onboard." She closed her eyes with a grimace as her ears processed the words that had left her mouth. A long silence stretching out ominously over the comm. Wake up brain, whatever happened to the self-preservation instinct? How do these comments always slip through. Damn sleep deprivation. A click as the other side of the comm finally switches back on.

"Touché Traynor, touché." The specialist lets out a relieved sigh and resumes breathing. "So, doing anything interesting?"

"Umm, not sleeping..." She wonders if the commander will prod further, feeling oddly defensive about her choice in entertainment should questions arise.

"Fair enough... If you're not doing anything I've got a few hours free. If you'd like to come up, maybe finish that chess game from earlier?" Samantha's brain shot out in a hundred different directions at once. "Err, that's not a trick question by the way. You can say no without having to tell me what you're up to."

"NO! I mean yes! Umm... I'm on my way up."

...

"Your cabin is gorgeous. I've seen apartments smaller than this."

"Why the surprise Traynor? I mean, it's true but, haven't you been up here before?"

"Well yes, but I was a bit busy being awestruck over being in the presence of the 'Great Commander Shepard' to pay much attention to your room!"

"Are you saying I'm no longer awe inspiring?" Shepard tried to affect a hurt look on her face, but the teasing lilt of her voice gave her away.

"No, not saying that. It's just that I've not had as many chances to look appreciatively at your cabin as I have you." The specialist blushed at her own traitorous wording, turning her back on the commander. As she stepped away she triggered the motion sensor for the bathroom, door sliding open, she glanced inside.

"Oh an actual shower. The faucets in the women's bathroom are crap by the way." I'm babbling aren't I? Smooth Sammy, real smooth. "Anyway... Didn't you invite me up here to play?"

"Right, chess!" The commander shook herself from a daze. Quick, say something before she notices: "I was beginning to think you were more interested in a shower."

"I didn't realise that was an option." Samantha was quick to pounce on the idea.

"If you want one?" Shepard shrugged uncertainly, "sure, why not."

"Well... just give me a moment to grab my things".

...

What was I thinking? This was not a good idea. Shepard sat on a chair in the lower section of her cabin, the sound of running water and that marvelous soft accented voice filling the room. You weren't thinking, that's kind of the problem. She looked up to answer a question and realised the gap in the glass case where the Destiny Ascension used to be. Shit. She felt her mouth go dry. You wanted a distraction. This wasn't what I had in mind.

She tried to chase thoughts involving 'conduct unbecoming an officer' out of her head. It's not as if you're being hypocritical, you've always been lax with the crew about their fraternizations. Somehow she managed to keep conversing with the specialist while keeping her thoughts to herself. Fraternization? Sure, I may have dabbled when I first joined up, but I've always been firm regarding abuse of rank.

Focus on the model ships, or those empty wine glasses or something other than the naked woman in the shower. Beautiful naked wo... Subordinate! Your naked subordinate remember. As in Out. Of. Bounds. Shepard was so focused on wrestling her own thoughts she almost missed Traynor's proposition, once the words filtered through her brain she let go of her self-constraint. Eyes dancing freely over the younger woman's body as she walked towards the shower.

"Oh, I'm interested..."