Mass Effect; Chronicles of a Soldier

A Friend Indeed...

My standard form of writing applies.

" " - Spoken

' ' - Thoughts, usually in italics, as well.

( ) - Commentary. I'm a smartass. You should know what goes here. My smartass commentary. Usually funny, always interesting. Details and explanations, or my personal opinions, unfiltered.

Italics- Usually things of importence. Flashbacks and certain things are in italics to seperate them from the rest of the story.

Bold!- Things like this are things that just stand out. Usually pretty badass, or just really scary.

Underlined words are oddball parts; anything that stands out, but doesn't fall into the two above categories.

Things in this font are sometimes Author commentary, or truly profound statements.

Those things just below this line, are seperators. They seperate different sections. Simple, yes?

~~Badadumdunbum~~

Well, that was unexpected.

Or was it?

~~Badadumbundum~~

#35 Love Hurts.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

"There a reason you drugged me?" Roland asks, sitting up and shaking off the grogginess.

Chakwas was looking over her terminal, shaking her head. "Knew I should've given you a higher dose... I just finished beating the dents out of your ribcage. Lay still, or you're going to wind up being stuck in here a lot longer."

Forcing himself up from the bed, Roland tears out the IV drip and growls, "Fuck that. I'm not a damned invalid, I'm perfectly fi- Ngh! GUEGHLRK!" He collapsed to his knees, his entire body shaking uncontrollably as he vomits a stream of dark purple blood, panting raggedly.

Spinning around in her chair, she shouts, "If you keep this up, you will be! This is what happens when you push yourself and neglect your medication. The human body does not respond to percussive maintenance! That armor is killing you."

Ater wiping his mouth, he forces himself to his feet, pulling on that accursed armor with trembling hands. "I don't give a damn if it kills me! It's all I've got, and I'm not going to lay around in a soft bed while there's a war going on."

As he stomps out and heads for the elevator, Chakwas is standing there shaking her head as Shepard steps into view and asks, "How bad?"

The Doc is unsurprised that the Commander was listening in. She bluntly answers,"He should be dead, and I cannot explain why he isn't. EKG is off the damn charts; with the pain he's in, anyone else would have blacked out from it by now. His body is tearing itself apart, and the medication won't help for much longer. He's already taking enough to kill most people. Being confined to bedrest isn't helping his condition, either. He's angry with himself, and too restless besides; can't sit still long enough to heal."

Chakwas shakes her head once more, pinching the bridge of her nose. "His condition has been encountered before, when cybernetics were first becoming common. To be precise, it is a rare and exotic form of Cybernetic Lupus; the body rejects the cybernetics, and the immune system adapts to immunosuppressants before it attacks them, along with the rest of his nervous system, triggering an acute allergic reaction and neural degredation. However, it is eclipsed by the way the armor overexerts his body, and the cellular degeneration it causes. The armor is killing him... But it's also the only thing keeping him alive. Shepard, no one can sustain these kinds of injuries and keep going indefinitely; he's a dead man walking. He's kept himself up and fighting through sheer force of will, but even that has its limits, and Roland is very quickly approaching his. Every day he is out there fighting might as well be another decade torn off of his lifespan. He knows he will not survive this war, and he does not care. The only thing that concerns him is how you will be affected. That affection is what drives him, and keeps him moving forward, no matter how badly his body is broken. He would do anything for you, should you ask. That kind of loyalty can be found only once in a lifetime, Shepard. Do not squander it."

Shepard finds herself biting her lip, mulling over the information as she mutters, half to herself, "What should I do?"

Exasperated, the doctor says, "This goes against every instinct I have, but you should take him with you whenever you can. He's dying either way, but he forgets about the pain around you, and I've noticed that your presence puts him at ease. 'Love conquers all,' and all that jazz. Ah, what was it Zaeed said...?"

Shaken, Shepard quietly answered. "Rage is a hell of an anesthetic."

"Ah, yes. Quite. I was thinking more along the lines of how a stubborn enough person can survive anything."

Shepard chuckles darkly. "That, too."

~~Badadumdunbum~~

"How you holding up, LC?"

I reflexively glanced up from the chestplate laid out on the bench in front of me, its face dented, with several spider-like fractures running across its surface. "Well enough, Shepard. Suit diagnostic showed a few of my ribs actually bent inward. Hurt like a bastard when the doc fixed me up, but I'll be fine in a couple hours. As for the armor, well, the plate took most of the impact while the undersuit cushioned the blow, but those things still hit like a truck. Keep away from 'em if you can."

My Commander sighed, moving around the bench and dropping down into the chair next to mine. "Your report is already being used to formulate an SOP for dealing with them; Alliance Command has tentatively named them 'Brutes,' and I'm pretty sure you can guess why." She reached over to carefully prod at the bandage across my midsection, a half-hidden look of worry on her face. "You really need to stop doing crazy shit like that. One of these days, you're going to get hit by something as stubborn as you are; and Chakwas doesn't do bits and pieces."

I swatted her hand away, quietly scoffing. "You worry too much, Shepard. There's nothing out there that'll stop me from taking back my home; not Cerberus, not the Reapers, not even death itself."

Shepard quirked a brow, a small smirk on her face as she teased, "So you're going to destroy the Reapers by punching them out, one at a time?"

"If that's what it takes; they'll never expect it. Besides, we already took one down, a few million more shouldn't be a problem." Yes, that last statement was said with an entirely deadpan tone.

My Commander chuckled, shaking her head. "If only the Alliance had a few more soldiers with your enthusiasm... And durability."

I shot her a cheeky grin. "Too damn stubborn to die, remember?"

"Guess you're back to your old self, then. Well, mind lending me your esteemed tactical expertise?" With that, she withdrew a datapad from one of the thigh pouches of her uniform, holding it out to me. "We've got a bit of time before the summit, so we might as well get something done."

Oh-ho? I glanced over its contents, scanning the different mission briefings she'd received from Hackett. We had our pick of the litter; assault a Cerberus research facility, fighter base, or rescue a cadre of defectors. Whichever two ops we skipped would be forwarded to N7 teams. "Well, the most difficult one is going to be rescuing the defectors, that'll require the most finesse. All the N7 guys I trained with are true professionals, they could get it done... But I'll be damned if I'm going to let someone else do the heavy lifting."

My Commander flashed a wicked grin. "My thoughts exactly. For squad makeup, I'm figuring you and Garrus. Think the three of us would be enough?"

I stroked my chin, looking over the intel we had on the iceball planet and the facility once more. "Probably. Situations with hostages and civilians are always a pain in the ass, so the fewer shooters we take with us would be for the best. And as I recall, the three of us have the most experience working together, as well as being the best marksmen we have. Although, when I took a gander at the personnel files, Williams' score on her last qualification was fairly impressive."

As I mentioned the other Lieutenant Commander's name, I noticed an almost imperceptible shift in Shepard's expression and just the slightest look of disdain in her eyes.

Quirking a brow, I asked, "I take it you're not exactly friends with your old Gunnery Chief anymore. She do something to piss you off?"

Sighing, Shepard replied, "You're too damn good at reading me, you know that? Yeah, the LC has managed to irritate the hell out of me earlier."

Flashback!

I stepped through the door to port observation, giving a couple raps on the bulkhead as I went. "Hey LC, got a moment?"

Ashley looked up from her omni, coming up in a salute; it took just a moment too long to force herself to smile for it to be real. "Sure. What is it, Commander?"

Shutting the door behind me, I said, "At ease, Williams. You've been giving me the cold shoulder ever since we left Earth, I just wanted to know what your issue is"

She dropped her arm and shifted to parade rest, her body language far too stiff to be normal. "You worked with Cerberus. How can I trust you?"

Exasperated, Shepard could only think to say, "Seriously? That's what this is about?"

Indignant, she sharply replied, "Damn right! You died; then all of a sudden, here you are, working with them. After that, they attack the archives on Mars, killing everyone there and making off with the data we needed. You were Cerberus. And people don't change."

Shepard couldn't resist. "Are you fucking kidding me? They were shooting at me, too, in case you forgot. And if nobody changes, then what about you? Did you suddenly hit a growth spurt in the last six months that took you from a B to a D cup?"

Things deteriorated from there, especially when Donnelly got involved...

End of Flashback!

I couldn't help wincing. "Yeah, that does sound kinda bad. Hell, that pisses me off; Williams has been giving me dirty looks when she thinks I won't notice. But there's nothing for it, no point getting into a pissing contest over nothing. Back on topic, how long until we reach the Arrae system?"

"It should take about six or seven hours after I give Joker the coordinates. Hackett's got a ship meeting us along the way to deliver supplies for our Turian crewmembers, along with some special project that Alliance R&D has been working on, codenamed Freyja. Don't know what it is, exactly, but Hackett said it'll give us an edge."

Nodding, I said, "Roger that, Skipper. I'll be good to go by then."

Suddenly, a furtive noise caught my attention and I scanned the hold for the source, already placing a hand on the Carnifex clipped to my thigh.

Shepard took notice of my sudden wariness, turning to look around the room when something small and furry darted out from around the corner, making a beeline for my Comander.

I'd just gotten to my feet with my M6 levelled at the tiny beast when Shepard preactically squealed. "Kibbles! I knew you'd never let 'em take you alive! C'mere, buddy." And with that, Commander Shepard, the legendary Hero, took a knee and gushed over her pet space hamster.

There are no words that could accurately describe how I felt upon seeing that.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

"Spirits, it's cold... Why do you always take me to places like this? Noveria had more than enough snow and ice for one lifetime." Garrus was complaining, of course, teasing Shepard about the weather the moment we touched down on Gellix. Apparently, Noveria was an ice world, and one of the places Shepard had investigated while searching for Saren, the rogue Spectre.

Regardless, the temperature of Gellix didn't bother me, not with the amount of narcotics in my system. I'm beginning to wonder if Cerberus designed the armor's pain relief mechanisms to give the wearer an unnatural high as they fought, to give an incentive to keep fighting despite injuries. Or perhaps it is to force me to fight even harder when injured?

But speaking of armor... Project Freyja was just that; a suit of custom N7 Defender armor, built especially for Shepard. The plates were smaller and less obtrusive of one's movement, but they were also made of a more advanced self-repairing nanotech laminate. Its helmet had a unique visor, which allowed an impressive field of view while being able to stop AP rounds from most sniper rifles. It had an extremely advanced VI embedded in the helmet, allowing its HUD to display all sorts of useful battlefield information, ranging from threat detection/analysis, navigation, system infiltration, enemy tagging and shot tracing, among other things. Its shield strength is similar to that of the T5-V battlesuit, and to augment that, it uses some kind of prototype foucault currents, similar to what the N7 Defender has, but far more advanced. It's actually very similar to what my own armor does when the plates and undersuit harden in anticipation of incoming fire to minimize damage.

But those things are relatively minor upgrades to the Defender armor. The biggest change was the addition of a jump pack, which allowed for unprecedented improvements in mobility, be it in zero-G or on the ground. The thrusters on my armor allow for increased acceleration when sprinting or dodging, along with increased jump height. Hers?

Holy shit. I saw her try it out in the shuttle bay, and boy can she move. I'm talking instantaneous 90-degree turns mid-air, on the ground, wherever. Since she weighs less than half of what I do in full gear, the thrusters on her armor can manage such impressive feats without being too obtrusive. I'm pretty sure the eggheads also worked in a better reverse-engineered version of the power core in my own armor, seeing as the jump pack relies entirely on electrical power and doesn't interfere with her kinetic barriers. I think the actuators in the limbs and joints have also gotten a few improvements.

I'm still shocked they can manage to pull out that much juice from the power core without bothering to use the same system that Cerberus developed. Shepard mentioned having to exchange power cells and discharge the core regularly, so I guess they developed a less... Savage means of implementing the technology. There's just one thing that's bothering me.

Freyja.

Seriously?

Shepard had the exact same reaction. Well... Almost.

"Jetpacks are impractical and dangerous. Also really, really fucking awesome!"

Vega just whined about the Commander getting all the cool toys. And about not getting to come with us, but at least I can understand his annoyance over getting benched.

Regardless.

[Commander Shepard, by Miracle of Sound (Gavin Dunne)]

We could hear gunfire the moment we touched down, and made our way from the landing pad towards the source of the sound. When we came upon the main entrance to the facility, we found a squad of Cerberus troopers advancing towards the assive doors, firing at a handful of people in Cerberus BDU's; most of them hadpistols, except for a single individual who stood out.

"JACOB!" Shepard screamed as she saw Jacob Taylor go down while trying to drag one of the wounded behind cover. Neither Garrus nor I reacted fast enough to stop our Commander, and off she went; Carnifex in one hand, omni-blade in the other.

Well, that really limited our options as far as tactics. "Fuck! Suppressing fire!" I flicked my Avenger's selector to auto, bringing the gun to my shoulder and sighting on my first target. I pulled the trigger and held it, sending a dozen slugs through the shield-bearing trooper's back, clean through his armor. Apparently, the Cerberus 'Guardians' who carry old-school tower shields don't bother with kinetic barriers. Can't say I blame them, their shields are ridiculously heavy for an unaugmented soldier to carry.

I've spent a lot of time tinkering with my rifle, modifying the M8C to become the perfect weapon for my preferred combat style; it took some doing, but I lowered its rate of fire to 600 RPM on automatic, making it exceptionally accurate on auto, and with its low recoil, it's nice and easy to control. Yet when I flick the selector to burst, it fires two rounds at 1800 RPM, allowing for exceptionally quick double-taps out to three hundred yards and beyond. Beyond that, I've incorporated a phasic jacketing mechanism, to allow the AP ammunition to punch through most personal shields, and short out more powerful ones with repeated hits. But of course, that normally requires reducing the weapon's muzzle velocity... But when you add an advanced targeting VI that runs autistically, the weapon can identify enemy resistances and decide whether to use phasic jacketing; to shape the slugs to better piece armor; or to shape them to cause massive tissue damage, you allieviate that issue, since the weapon doesn't always use the phasic jacket.

And it can do all of that, in the time it takes for me to pull the tirgger from the first stage to the second.

I fucking love the guns of this century.

Anyway, Garrus was strafing right, to get a better angle on the situation down below us, closer to the doors. As he dropped another pair of troopers, I did the same, focusing on the shielded 'Centurions' that might give Shepard trouble.

And that's the moment when she hit their line.

Unsurprisingly, she put that new jump pack to use, leaping above the first soldier's head, only to plummet on top of him, driving her blade through his neck while sighting in on the trooper cloest to her, emptying her clip into the poor bastard's head before he'd even managed to turn around.

Less than a moment later, she was skidding across the snow-covered titanium floor, taking the legs out from under another trooper before ventilating his skull, already using the jets to dodge out of the way of their return fire, rolling along the ground at her next victim's feet, slicing clean through his hand and the gun it was holding like butter.

As you can imagine, it took less than a minute before the firefight was over. As Vakarian and I hurried down the ramp towards the door, Shepard was skidding to a halt, dropping to her knees next to her-

No, don't think about it. It's Jacob. Just Jacob.

"What the hell... Shepard?" He asked, pure awe in his voice. He grinned from ear-to-ear, but only for a moment, before he looked... Guilty? I don't know, I didn't recognize it; but the look vanished as soon as it appeared, replaced with relief. He was wearing the same armored outfit he wore when we took down the collectors, but it lacked the Cerberus insignia across its chest. "It's good to see you guys."

Shepard smiled warmly, apparently not noticing what I'd noticed. "Yeah. Give me just a second, I've got medigel." It took mere moments for her to apply first aid, and just as she was patching him up, I heard Jacob's comm activate; though I couldn't quite catch what was said.

"Yeah. It's okay, Bryn, it's Shepard. Don't know why, but I'm not complaining. It's clear for now, open the door."

Moments later, the massive doors began to open, and I turned around to look over the area and make sure we didn't miss any hostiles before we went inside. It looked all clear, so I hefted Jacob up on my shoulder and hauled him inside, where we were met by an attractive, dark-skinned woman in her mid-30's. She, too, was wearing the standard BDU's in Cerberus colors.

"Oh my god, Jacob!" She exclaimed, rushing over to us to fret over him.

The biotic brushed off her concern. "I'm alright, it's just a flesh wound. The others... Didn't make it." He hid it well, but I could hear the barely-restrained agony in his voice. I know that feeling all too well; the pain sharpening your mind into a razor's edge of focus, just on the edge of passing out; the sharp, acrid taste of blood and bile in your mouth; pushing through the pain through sheer force of will; feeling your joints creak, your blood dripping, and your flesh painfully stretched to the breaking point where the bullets broke through.

Dear God, I know that feeling too well.

Anyway, Shepard asked, "What're you doing here?"

"I'm supposed to be protecting these people from the Illusive Man and his attack dogs!" The bitterness in his voice was palpable; he felt responsible for the deaths of his friends just outside, their bodies left in the snow.

The woman whose name I did not know asked, "Are they gone?"

"For now," Shepard answered. "But they'll be back."

Jacob pulled himself away from me to stand on his own, sucking in a sharp breath and stifling the grunt of pain it caused. Stubborn idiot.

Of course, Shepard rushed to his side. "You sure you're okay?"

He gave a curt nod, forcing himself to stand straight. "Yeah, I'll walk it off. It's good to see you." The big man smiled warmly, and it looked genuine, at least from where I'm standing.

"You, too." As soon as Jacob looked away, Shepard shot me a look of disdain, as if to say, He's acting like you. I shrugged, feigning ignorance. Garrus just looked between the two of us, silently snickering to himself.

At that moment, Jacob took notice of myself and said Turian. "It's good to see y'all, too."

"Staying out of trouble, I see." Garrus noted, with what passes for a Turian smirk on his face. "Roland, how many times is it we've saved him, now? I've lost count."

I paused, as if deep in thought, then pulled up my omnitool and starting clicking away. "Let me see. Add five, subtract the ones owed, carry the seven... Math was never my strong suit."

This got a chuckle from everyone present, except for the stranger, of course. Jacob introduced the woman. "Shepard, this is Doctor Bryn Cole. She's in charge here." The two named individuals shook hands, though I noticed the good Doctor had somewhat... Frosty body language.

"Tell me what's going on, intel says you're Cerberus."

The Doc nodded. "We're all ex-Cerberus. Scientists, mostly." Her tone of voice set off alarm bells in the back of my head. I glanced over at Garrus, who glanced back; an almost imperceptible nod told me that he also seemed to notice that there was something a little off about the woman.

Something tells me we're going to be in for a rough day.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

When I'm right, I'm goddamn right. And I'm always right.

I fucking hate it.

We'd just finished repairing the AA batteries outside the facility so we could get a handful of shuttles filled with civilians into atmosphere, and away from the planet. Right after, we headed down to the infirmary, so Shepard could check up on Jacob. What happens? We walk in, and find Jacob sitting on one of the beds while Doctor Cole nuzzles his neck, whispering into his ear. Hell, I could see her lipstick stuck to him.

"You... What." Shepard's voice could be described as a beautiful ice sculpture, tumbling through the air as it crashed to the ground, shattering into billions of tiny, glittering pieces.

[Love Isn't Always Fair, by Black Veil Brides]

Jacob flinched, as if he could hear the metaphorical statuette smashing. Hell, he jerked harder than he had when the medic next to him was stitching him up. The good Doctor didn't bother backing away from Jacob, she just turned to face us, wrapping her arm around him; I just wanted to knock that smug look right off her face. I'll give him credit, Jacob looked like he wanted to disappear. "Uh... This isn't how I wanted you to-"

Shepard cut him off. "NO. It's fine. It's fine." She repeated those words, as if she were trying to convince herself more than him. She tilted her head to the side, hands held tightly to her sides, smiling warmly... But it didn't reach her eyes. "It's okay, I've moved on, too. I'm happy for you." Her tone was genuine, even I couldn't tell that she was lying; but the look in her eyes...

I swallowed drily, glancing to where Garrus was standing-

Holy hell, he'd backed up a good five or six feet, his eyes wide. I think he was worried that Shepard would snap and start murdering anything- No, everything that moved.

'Damnit. I don't know if I want to strangle him or shake his hand, but I'd better get Shepard away from that philandering maroon before she shoots him.'

I grabbed Shepard's shoulder, giving her a gentle shake. "We've gotta get our asses in gear, Shepard. The AA guns have started to clear the sky, but Cerberus is liable to drop in on us any minute-"

*KTSHKA!*

One of the overhead skylights shattered, a Cerberus trooper dropping through it; before I'd even managed to turn around and sight him in-

*POW-Fuhl...!*

The trooper's head exploded, smoke wafting from the barrel of Shepard's M6, not two inches from my head.

"Everyone, move out! Get to the shuttles, MOVE!"

Even like this, Shepard can still switch on when she needs to. She moved quickly, already heading for the stairs. Garrus and I shared a look before taking off after her at a trot just to keep pace with our Commander.

Just down the stairs, she stopped in the hallway just through the door, inhaling deeply; her fist snapped outward, smashing into the durasteel wall hard enough to leave a sizable indentation. "Stay out of my way. I need to kill something." And off she went, Carnifex in one hand, omni-blade forming over the other.

Garrus turned to look at me, stroking his fringe nervously. "I almost feel sorry for the Cerberus soldiers outside. They have no idea what's about to hit them."

I shook my head ruefully. "Because of that idiot, she's going to get herself killed. Come on, we'll cover her six."

We had to sprint as fast as we could to catch up to Shepard, but by the time we did, she'd already killed over a dozen of Cerberus' finest, and she wasn't slowing down. I scarecely had a target to pick from; most were dead before I could even line up my sights. I nudged Garrus' side. "This is what it felt like for you guys watching from the sidelines when I lost my shit, huh?"

The Turian nodded sagely. "Kindof. Except she isn't bodily throwing them around or getting shot dozens of times without so much as flinching. She's not leaving a huge trail of blood and gore, either. Same amount of bodies, though. Word to the wise, stay away from her for awhile. She's going to be in a foul mood for some time. Last time I saw her like this was when Kaiden died on Virmire."

Kaiden...? I heard Ashley mention that name, once; and it made Shepard flinch.

"Agh! Oh God, my legs! My arms! My Spleen!" At the sound of the man's voice, I put a double-tap through his helmet, silencing the annoying trooper.

Good God, the pleading and the begging gets real old, real fast.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

It's been about four hours since we escorted the shuttles to the relay, where they met up with an Alliance cruiser and went on their own merry way. Hackett will put the scientists to work on the Prothean 'device,' and place the families somewhere safe. Jacob will be staying with them, I suppose; Shepard sure as hell doesn't want him on the Normandy, not anymore.

Speaking of... I was on my way up the elevator to her quarters with a couple of food trays and a thermos of coffee, since I haven't seen Shepard get a bite to eat since before we made landfall on Gellix. I figured if I didn't come pester her, someone else would; and I heal faster. Stepping out of the elevator, I noticed that old bullethole was gone, no longer there to remind me, or Shepard, of what happened six months ago. I shuddered at the memory, doing my best to shake it off.

With the the thermos under my arm, the trays covered and stacked, I rapped my plated knuckles against her door, announcing myself. "It's me, Shepard. You decent?" Before the words had even left my mouth, the door opened.

Inside, Shepard's cabin hasn't been changed much; the lighting was different, it was now that strangely dim pale blue that all Alliance ships have; and the furniture looked new, but otherwise, it was exactly the same. My Commander was seated in the center of the new L-shaped leather couch, a half-empty glass tumbler in her hand and an open bottle of strong-smelling liquor on the table. She'd changed back into her BDU's but removed the top, leaving only her undershirt. It was the same one that James wore, albeit properly sized and not straining at the seams.

"Shepard?"

She didn't respond, instead knocking back the drink in her hand before refilling it from the bottle. Even through the filters in my helmet, I could smell the stuff; almost like some kind of Ryncol blend, mixed with strawberries and other fruits that I couldn't identify.

[Go (Let Me Save You) by Citizen Zero]

I moved closer, setting down the food and coffee, taking a knee. "Look at me, Shepard." She did so, and I- The words I'd been rehearsing, the lecture I'd planned? I couldn't remember any of it. Her eyes were dead; it was like looking into the cold expanse of dark space, without a single star or blip of light to be found. There was no emotion, no feeling, not even recognition. They weren't even red around the edges, meaning she hadn't cried.

It was like she was looking right through me. I removed my helmet, setting it down beside the food. "I'm sorry. I know you're hurting, but I don't know what to say to make the pain stop. I'm not suited to this sort of thing, but you were always there for me when I felt like shit, so it's only fair that I be here for you. You don't have to say anything, I just want you to know that... I'm here for you. Always will be."

With that, I handed her one of the trays. "Here. Haven't seen you eat since yesterday. You need to eat something, otherwise that stuff is going to tear you up."

She numbly looked at the offered food, then back to the drink in her hand, before finally accepting it. I sat down next to her, picking up the tray with my own food and digging in, before I noticed something. Shepard was just sitting there, staring at the chicken breast and instant potatoes, not moving.

Debating what to do for a moment, I wrapped one arm around her shoulders and reached over with the other, plucking the glass of liquor from her hand, setting it down on the table. That's when I saw how much of the bottle she'd drank; it was freshly opened, the cork sitting next to it, but over half the stuff was gone. If it were anyone else, I'd have panicked right there; but Shepard can probably drink me under the table.

Picking up the thermos, I clicked open the top, pressing it into Shepard's hand. "Drink this, slowly. It's a bit warm, but it'll make you feel better."

My Commander slowly lifted the silver canteen to her lips, tilting it back and draining its contents. She drank from it for several long heartbeats before letting it down, slowly licking her lips. "It's good." The first words I heard from her; at least she's talking, even if she's slurring her words a little. "Sergeant Gardner did not make this."

I sheepishly rubbed the back of my head. "My own blend. Being a Marine, about the only thing I had on post to drink, aside from water anyway, was coffee; usually cheap stuff, so I had to find ways to make it potable. If you like it, I can brew a pot for you whenever you like."

"Thanks." Her voice was soft, as she finally started to eat, but it's a start. Better than playing charades, anyway. She didn't finish all of it, getting maybe half down her neck before setting the tray and thermos aside, turning herself fully towards me. Just... Watching me.

Okay, that's creepy. I put my own food aside, despite my stomach's protests. "Yeah?"

Shepard continued to watch me, but declined to say anything. She shifted closer, reaching up to run her fingers through my hair. "I hadn't even noticed, before. You hair's been turning grey."

Oh, yeah. A lock of my hair, right above the right side of my forehead, has slowly been changing color, turning a dark steel-grey. "Side-effect of the cybernetics, at least according to Chakwas. Doesn't bother me. It'll all be grey, soon enough."

"It looks good on you." With that, she moved even closer, uncomfortably close.

"Shepard?" I asked, as she wrapped that hand around the back of my head, pulling me down as she slowly, gently pressed her lips to mine; I could taste the liquor on her breath, the well-seasoned but cheap vat-grown food, the cherry-flavored lip balm, and the semi-sweet chocolate from the coffee. I... Wish I could say that I was a stronger man, but I couldn't resist kissing her back.

She finally released me, licking her lips. "Mmm... I love the way you taste." Before I could react, she was on top of me, straddling my hips and kissing me again and again.

'She wants me. But- NO! She's drunk. She's hurting. I can't do this. But I want to. Dear God in Heaven, I want her so badly.'

It took a herculean effort, a monumental force of sheer willpower to push her off of me. "She-Shepard! Wait. Just wait."

My Commander licked her lips once more, cocking her head to the side. "What's wrong? I know you want this. You want me." Her hands were running through my hair, across my face; her hips gyrating against me, her crotch grinding into my own.

"I- I can't. You're drunk. I want this, I want this more than you could ever imagine... But I don't want to be a rebound. I don't want to just be a drunken fling. Please, I couldn't stand to just be a-"

She silencd my nearly-incoherent babbling and self-assurances with her lips, teasing me with her tongue for a solid minute. "Stop," She ordered, with nary a trace of drunken slurring in her iron-hard voice. Her expression had changed, and there was an insatiable fire in her emerald-green eyes. "For tonight, just... Comfort me. Please."

With her pleading voice ringing in my ears, the heads-up display built right into my cybernetics flashed once, and my body moved of its own accord before I even knew what I was doing.

"As you wish." And I seized my Commander by the shoulders, pulling her to me for a passionate embrace as clothes and pieces of armor started coming off, flying across the room.

And all the while, a certain furry little creature watched from its cage, beady little black eyes glinting perversely.

~~Badadumdunbum~~

Referneces include, but are not limited to: Halo 3, Deemonef, and many, many more which I cannot be arsed to track down.