"Wish they'd find somebody else to deal with this Saren bullshit," Bex muttered against Hackett's chest as they said their goodbyes at the dock, reporters and crowds be damned. She'd noticed Khalisah was not among them.
"No, you don't." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "If it was someone else, you'd be complaining how it should be you doing it, not them."
Bex grumbled but said nothing. She hated when he was right. And he was always goddamn right.
She pulled him impossibly close for a moment before she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, whispered "I love you" and turned away. She didn't look back as she hobbled into the airlock behind the rest of the crew.
Bypassing the cockpit with only a course direction for Joker and vague greetings to the rest of the crew, she made her way to the sanctuary of her quarters and flopped face-first onto her bed. She knew she should've been out in the CIC, doing something Spectre-y or Commander-y; she just couldn't deal with all the questioning looks and passing comments about the media shitstorm the last few days. If she could've, she'd have stayed locked in her quarters until someone shouted that there'd been a Saren sighting.
If only…
A knock on the door started her awake.
When the fuck did I go to sleep?
She glanced at the clock beside the bed–2300 hours.
Bugger.
Another knock, more insistent this time.
"Bex Shepard, you know better than to skip dinner," Kaidan shouted between more knocks. "Open this door right now!"
Fucking hell.
Despite the grumbling on the other side of the door, Bex took her time in answering it. Forgoing the cane Dr. Chakwas had given her, she padded across the room and plastered a smile on her face as the door slid open. Her fake smile turned into genuine laughter at the indignant look on Kaidan's face.
"'Evening, K. What can I do for you?" Her eyes lit up as she took in the food on the tray in his hands. "Are those actual fish and chips?"
"Special requisition order from the doc." He handed her the tray before he stepped around the corner, coming back with a large package. "And my parents gave me this to give to you."
She blinked. "For me?"
"Care package slash wedding present."
"For me," she said again as they sat the tray and package on the desk. "Wait. What d'you mean they gave it to you? They were on Arcturus?"
He nodded. "Their best friends are stationed there. The friends are both retiring, her from the Alliance, him from a civilian job, and my parents threw them a surprise party last night. I gotta say, it was a damn close thing we didn't get roped into going."
Bex blinked. "Why the hell would I be invited to a stranger's retirement party?"
Kaidan gave her a look she knew all too well, one of exasperation. "You're Commander Shepard."
"And…"
"You're a celebrity."
"Am I? Most would call me a pest."
"Also, my parents adore you."
"Of course they do, I'm a fucking delight." Bex took two steps toward the door, Kaidan following and passing her to stand in the hallway once more. "Thanks for the food and uh, thank your parents for the package?"
He nodded. "I will. 'Night." He gave her a stern look reminiscent of Dr. Chakwas. "And don't let me catch you skipping meals anymore."
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, mum."
She closed and locked the door and made a beeline for the food. She'd deal with the complex feelings of a wedding present from her ex's parents later. Much later.
Instead, she opened her personal terminal, eager to catch up on any galactic news that didn't involve her sex life.
A healthy mix of sports scores, entertainment, and actual news scrolled across the screen. One headline in particular caught her attention, her appetite vanishing in a second as she read the accompanying article.
Chairman Burns of the Parliament Subcommittee for Transhuman Studies announced the rejection of reparations for biotics still using the controversial L2 implant. When asked the reason for the decision, Burns simply said there wasn't enough evidence to warrant widespread reparations, adding that "they should have had them replaced when defects were detected."
"What the absolute fucking hell is this bullshit?" Bex was half tempted to redirect the Normandy back to Arcturus and storm Parliament to have a few choice words with the so-called chairman. Clearly, he had never met a biotic and didn't know a damn thing about the way most lived, particularly the L2s. She and Kaidan had gotten lucky, being able to function normally with minimal side effects. Most L2s weren't so lucky. Most were homeless, jobless, definitely too poor to get their implant replaced, never mind the danger of the surgery even if they did have the credits for it. Morgan and Tamara had both gone for it, the bill footed by the Alliance, but most who could afford to didn't. Bex didn't think she'd ever consider it. Her brain and body were fucked up enough as it was.
She sent a text with a link to the article to Kaidan.
B: Have you seen this shit?
K: Yeah. TBH it was what triggered the visit to your quarters.
B: Oh?
K: A series of interlinking thoughts led me to remember that I hadn't seen you at dinner, so I figured you probably hadn't eaten. Clearly I was right.
B: Hush.
B: Anyway… I think we need to do something.
K: Do something? What, about Burns?
B: Yeah. We can't let this stand.
K: I agree, but there isn't really anything we *can* do
B: We could talk to him.
K: Your version of 'talking' doesn't usually involve words.
B: So?
K: You can't afford anymore bad press.
B: Fuck 'em. I don't care. This is important.
K: So is catching Saren.
B: Fuck.
B: I guess you're right. But I'm not letting Burns get away with this.
K: Of course not. Just… deal with one bastard at a time.
The idiocy of Chairman Burns tucked away at the back of her mind, next to Vido, Bex focused all her energy on finding Saren.
The Council seemed pleased she was getting on with the mission, but never how she got on with it. There was always something to piss them off: killing an ancient, sentient plant controlling the colonists on Feros or killing an indoctrinated asari Matriarch—Liara's mother—on Noveria. It didn't seem to matter that at each location, she gained information that brought her one step closer to Saren. It also didn't seem to matter that she only killed in self-defense, or that in Matriarch Benezia's case, she'd been relieved to die. All the Council saw was death and destruction and always against aliens, never humans.
"You must do better, Shepard," Councilor Valern said after his colleagues had lectured Bex for several minutes following her briefing of Noveria. "You must—"
"—get hung up on," Joker said over the comm as the holograms of the three Councilors disappeared. "Sorry if you were still interested in talking to them, Commander, but I just couldn't listen to that bullshit anymore."
Bex snorted. "You could always turn off your comm."
"And be bored? Never."
"In any case, thank you."
"Anytime, Commander. Anytime."
Bex cracked her neck and headed for the door of the comm room, intending to relax enroute to Pinnacle Station. She'd received an invitation from its commander, Admiral Ahern, and thought it sounded like a good place for the crew to unwind for a couple of days, maybe even sharpen their skills a bit.
She stopped short of the door when the comms crackled to life again. "What is it, Joker?"
"I've got Admiral Hackett on the line."
"Send it through to my quarters then."
"Fair warning, Commander, I don't think this is a personal call."
"Don't care what it is," Bex said as she headed out the door and up the stairs. "I'm emotionally and physically drained. I'm done being 'on' for the day."
"Got it. Transferring to your quarters. Good luck."
Hackett was waiting on Bex's personal terminal when she entered her quarters.
She gave him a tired sort of wave as she sat at her desk. "What can humanity's first Spectre do for the Fifth Fleet today?"
He frowned. "Never mind that for the moment. Are you all right? Your actions say you're dead on your feet, but you've also got that look that tells me you won't actually get any meaningful rest."
She sighed and slumped a little in her chair. "It's too long to go into right now—you'll get the mission report in a bit—but suffice to say I have a new respect for the ancient krogan, and fuel for both fresh nightmares and old ones."
"Anything I can do to help?"
She shook her head. "Not unless you can teleport to the ship and help me wash rachni guts out of my hair."
Hackett raised an eyebrow. "Is that what that is? I thought you'd inexplicably dyed your hair orange since we last spoke."
Bex shuddered. "Gross."
"Would you like to continue this conversation after you've showered?"
"That would be amazing, yes." She gave him a grateful smile. "I love you."
"I love you too. See you in a few minutes?"
"Assuming I don't fall asleep in the bloody shower."
"Feel better?" Hackett asked when Bex restored the connection twenty minutes later.
She shook her head. "Better is a strong word for what I'm feeling right now, Steven. Scrubbing my hair did little more than ruin my nails. It sure as fuck didn't get any of the guts out of it."
"It does look slightly less orange."
Bex glowered at her husband, who was clearly trying not to laugh as he chewed the inside of his cheek. "That's only because it's wet. When it's dry again, it'll be the same bright bloody orange it was when I walked into the shower." She slumped in her seat. "Think I might shave it."
"Entirely up to you, my love."
"Not that I didn't think it was, but… thanks for saying it." Bex sighed and slowly straightened up again. "So, Joker indicated this probably wasn't going to be a social call?"
"A bit of both, I suppose, but yes, I did call with a matter of some urgency that requires a… let's say diplomatic approach."
"And when you think 'diplomatic,' you definitely think me," Bex said, unable to hide the sarcasm in her voice, though Hackett seemed to take no notice of it. "Do tell."
He seemed to hesitate for a moment before he spoke. "Chairman Burns of the—"
Bex bristled. "I know who the bastard is. If this is some… rescue mission or he wants a bodyguard or some other bullshit, count me out."
Hackett ignored her outburst, continuing as if she hadn't spoken. "—Parliament Subcommittee for Transhuman Studies has been kidnapped."
"Good fucking riddance."
"Rebekah."
"No, Steven. Do you know what he did?"
"I do."
"He voted against reparations for L2 biotics," Bex snapped. "Basically, he told a group of people, most of whom are too disabled to work, that he doesn't give a shit whether they—we—live 'normal' lives or die in the fucking gutter."
She launched out of the chair and paced the room, ranting for several more minutes. Finally, exhausted, she flopped back into the chair and laid her head on the desk.
"Can I assume you're finished?" Hackett asked, his voice calm but still with an edge of seriousness.
"For the moment," Bex said, not raising her head from the desk.
"I realize that was a long time coming, but can I tell you why you really have a vested interest in Burns' safety?"
Bex shrugged, still not looking up. "If you must."
"He was kidnapped by a group of biotics."
"And? That just means… shit." Bex raised her head. "If he dies by their hand, he'll look like a martyr to the rest of the galaxy and—"
"—and biotics will be even more regulated than they already are, yes."
"Fuck." Bex resisted the urge to slam her face into the desk and heaved a sigh instead. "Fine. We'll rescue the fucking bastard. But he's getting a fucking earful from me and Kaidan."
Hackett shook his head with a short laugh. "I'd expect nothing less from you. Keep me apprised of the situation. In the meantime, try to get some rest. Hackett out."
