"Baby I want to touch you
I wanna breathe into your will
See, I gotta hunt you
I gotta bring you to my hell
Baby, I wanna fuck you
I wanna feel you in my bones
Boy, I'm gonna love you
I'm gonna tear into your soul"
Meg Myers, Desire
Today's the day! Shepard sat on the gurney in Dr Chakwas' office, her leg free from the cast and all washed up. She felt like a little girl, almost bouncing with anticipation as she watched the doctor approach. Chakwas gestured for Shepard to stand up, and as she did so applied a small black metal box to her calf. The device unfolded with the soft grinding sound of metal on metal. It formed a lattice that wrapped around her leg, its polyalloy webbing rising in a pattern until it finished off just below the knee.
"With this at my disposal, the Reapers don't stand a chance," she said, peering down at its gunmetal grey filaments, much like a spider's web fitted tight around her calf. She slid off the gurney onto her good leg. As she let her weight down little by little, the device's wiring glowed blue and emitted a slight biotic smell. "I guess I wasn't expecting… whatever this is?"
"A research lab in Illium volunteered this prototype, Commander," said Dr Chakwas as she straightened up. "It uses a very slight and precise mass effect field to absorb impact. It won't be responsive enough to run and fight with, but it should serve you well for walking about. Carefully," she added. "Over the next two weeks it will let more and more of your own weight down, until you don't need it anymore. Do let me know how you get on."
With some hesitance, Shepard stood on one leg, watching the wires glow brightly to compensate. Nothing hurt.
"Wouldn't these work for Joker?" she asked with a tilt of her head.
"Mm, I came across this project whilst looking for solutions for him. The asari scientists who developed it tell me that at the moment, the technology is still a prototype. As such, it is subject to malfunctions where it can put some stress on the underlying bone from time to time. For you, this isn't a problem. Your fragments have grown together nicely and are of the proper density. For Jeff, on the other hand… Perhaps in future."
Shepard walked about in a circle, grinning. She resisted the urge to bounce in place - weeks of pent-up energy threatened to spill out all at once. Chakwas seemed to sense this, and crossed her arms.
"Careful, please, or you'll put yourself back on those crutches. Now! Off you go!" she said with a laugh, both her arms raised in a shooing motion before she sat down at her desk.
"You don't have to tell me twice!" Shepard replied. "Thank you."
"Of course, Commander. It is good to see you smiling."
The Mess didn't look so daunting to navigate anymore. The halls didn't feel so long. She wanted to pirouette across the room, but instead restrained herself to just striding boldly towards the elevator. When she got inside and the doors closed, she allowed herself a private, joyful laugh. Everything looked a little brighter, felt a little easier. Even thinking of all the paperwork to collate later, all the reports to read and sign off on; nothing could bust her mood. She felt amazing. She felt bulletproof. She felt like… she had to check her email, for a dose of reality if nothing else.
"Commander!" Kelly chirped at the sight of her. Shepard smiled, offering a friendly wave as she stepped out onto the CIC. "Ooh, no creaky old crutches!" Kelly said, her infectious enthusiasm making Shepard unable to resist an affectionate patting of her shoulder.
"Yes, indeed. On two legs again, at last." She opened her inbox and did a double-take. A message from Samara? She never makes requests… It must be important. Just as quickly as she arrived, she spun on her heel and left - a fact that gave her no end of thrills as she walked off.
/ / / / / /
"I need to talk with you about my daughter." Samara turned away from the backdrop of stars to face Shepard, her expression a mask of calm. Shepard felt herself stiffen with slight surprise, but disguised it as best she could herself by crossing her arms and leaning against the wall as she listened. Shepard did not like what she was hearing. Samara's reasons for her vows became all too clear with the tale she wove. In a moment of silence, she joined Samara in looking out the window and contemplated the justicar's request.
"So… I'm bait?" she asked at last.
She must have looked concerned, as Shepard read sympathy in Samara's large, ice-blue eyes. "That is more or less what I am asking of you, Shepard. You will be completely safe. At no time will you truly be alone with her."
Shepard hesitated as she looked in Samara's eyes. If she was honest with herself, she wanted to decline. Somehow, this plan didn't sit right; it sparked a kind of self-consciousness within Shepard that she wasn't used to feeling. But, looking in this woman's eyes, she found herself unable to refuse.
"I'll have Joker set a course set for Omega."
"Thank you, Shepard. This is not something I easily speak of. I am honoured to know that you will assist me in this matter."
Shepard felt her lips tighten with unease. I'm not sure about this. Unarmed? Lure an asari into bringing me back to her apartment?
"Omega's not far from here. Just a few hours at most," she mused, staring at the floor.
Samara nodded in response, still looking out at the stars. "Yes. Our position is most fortunate. I have been on Morinth's trail for centuries. It is of great importance to me that I catch her whilst she is still on Omega, before her trail goes cold."
Shepard looked to the floor; a torrent of sadness threatening to surface. Here was a mother, a figure Shepard had never had - having to hunt down her own daughter. For a few seconds, she wondered what it could have been like to grow up with a mother she could remember. There were no pictures in her mind of her own mother's face, only vague feelings. If she were here, would we be close, or at odds? She wondered. Would she be proud of me?
Shepard looked at Samara and imagined her younger, happier, with a baby at her breast. She painted a mental picture of what the asari must have looked like, teaching her beautiful blue little girl how to walk and talk. What terrible conviction it must have taken to make Samara devote her life so completely to killing her own child. Shepard sighed. She didn't know the first thing about being a mother; she never had one long enough to learn from. "I… should go and make some preparations." As Shepard turned to go, she heard Samara create a small mass effect field in her hands and the sharp smell of ozone followed her out the door.
As ever, that scent held a memory and she saw Kaidan as he was before, standing in a dimly lit corridor. She passed by and turned to look at him. A flicker of blue light darted from his bicep to his wrist. She shivered, remembering the feeling of his hands stroking down her sides. That blue glow shimmered around him then - and around her as he made love to her. She blinked several times to clear her head as she rounded the corner. The memory was vivid, but all those hot, painful twinges in her chest that, up until now, accompanied all her thoughts of him since Horizon were nowhere to be found. Instead, the pain was gone, replaced by a calm, warm feeling of affection. That was the way things were. It's not the way they are now. I miss him, and I always will, but that has its place, now. These echoes of their love faded from her mind, replaced by thoughts of Omega and what to expect from Samara's haywire offspring.
Unarmed and lame. Some time to be going out on the dance floor, she thought to herself. Not that there's ever a good time for me to go out on the dance floor. I don't know what I was thinking. I dance like a herniated moose. Her gut churned at the thought of returning to the Afterlife club with such a purpose. Sure, seducing an ancient sex murderer armed with nothing but her drunken bovine dancing skills was part of the job description, but the impersonality of it all was cold comfort. The idea of using her body to manipulate someone in such a way made her feel a little queasy, even if it was to save lives. Standing at the galactic map, she confirmed her selection and waited to see the indicator turn green, denoting Joker's receipt of the new orders. Her eyes flicked up from the swirling holographic galaxy to look ahead in his direction. I feel… dirty about this, somehow. Guilty. This is different from the usual bullets and blood. My decisions about my work are my own… I don't need to answer to anybody but myself.
As she neared the cockpit and the familiar glow of the many displays came into view, she heard soft humming from up ahead. Catfooted from a young age, Shepard made a habit of alerting others when she approached, to be courteous. But this time, she paused and leaned against the entrance a moment, trying to place the tune. I know it from somewhere, she thought. It's so familiar… Ancient, too… Siddig al… Sam… No. Sin After. Sin Aftra. Sin Aftra, I'm sure that's it. Something about skin? Ah, nevermind, I can't remember. She folded her arms and listened. He was no crooner, but he could carry a tune well enough. The cockpit was a peaceful place to be, most of the time. Shepard was partial to the view outside and the arrays of displays and blinking dials. Everything on Joker's screens had analogue equivalents somewhere on the walls and ceiling, and Shepard knew most of them herself. However, the shuttles, small craft and freighters she'd flown were nothing like the Normandy. She watched with some interest as he flicked through menus in a practised, precise way. It's a shame to disturb him, she thought. He's so in his element here. Still, she cleared her throat loudly.
"Ah!" He exclaimed in surprise. "Hey, Commander. Ugh. Must be losing my edge." She uncrossed her arms and stepped forward to take her usual spot behind his chair. He looked up at her and grinned. "Hey now, look at you! You know, I missed having you there. I would make some kinda crack about it, but, really… I have."
"Well, I've missed being here. There's a great view," she said as she briefly looked down into his eyes. "And, I think I envy you a little sometimes," she said as she looked at the wisps of mass effect parting over the helm's view. "I wish I could fly her, you know?"
"Sit in the co-pilot's seat sometime if you really wanna try, I guess? I'll make sure you don't run us into any planets," he said with a shrug.
"Surrendering control of the Normandy, your baby, to some gun-toting out-of-practise cadet? Who are you, and what have you done with Joker?"
"Pfft, helm controls can override anything the co-pilot does. It's like itty-bitty training wheels. Anyway, not long to Omega now. Seems like we've been there a lot. I dunno what you see in that place… uh, besides all the dancers in that Afterlife club, of course."
"Funny you should mention that," she said. "How long have we got?"
"Only about three hours, actually. Interstellar wind'll give or take a few minutes," he replied. "Why, you need to get there faster?"
"No. But I do need to talk with you a moment." She tapped her finger on his headrest and gave him a smile she knew to be a little uneasy.
He raised an eyebrow. "Uh, sure, I'll be in the Mess later."
"It can't wait. It's about the mission."
"Oh. Yeah, I haven't got the brief just yet. You gonna literally blow the roof off that club, or are you going somewhere else on that rock this time?" He asked. Shepard's eyes flicked to the comms panel. He followed her gaze. Catching on, he opened a dialogue on his display and tapped several commands into it. A light on the comm panel went out. "Miranda's been getting really quick at catching on with that little trick so we've probably only got a minute or two at most. What's up?"
"It's just that I figure you wouldn't want her listening in on this. You… ah. You aren't the jealous type, are you?"
"Uhhh," he said, and dropped his head back onto the seat's headrest, eyes wide with surprise. "Well this isn't the kind of serious conversation I expected."
"I'd have waited until after if I could. It's relevant."
"Why? You, uh… you got one those asari dancers waiting down there or something?" he asked and cleared his throat before offering a lop-sided, uncertain grin. "Because, uh, if that's the case, then… absolutely not, no. No, as long as there are pictures. Incredibly detailed pictures. Like, holo-level."
The smile she flashed faded quickly. "I'm going in alone and unarmed. As bait," she explained. He shifted in his chair.
"Bait? For what?" he asked, all humour evaporated from his voice. She could tell when he was trying to play it cool. He looked worried - he had a certain way of setting his jaw.
"Samara's daughter. She's… a kind of succubus, I guess. When she mates, she kills, and she does that a lot. It's important to Samara that she gets closure on this thing. So, in order to do this, I have to get her to invite me back to her apartment," she explained. Just putting words to it made Shepard slide her gaze off to the side awkwardly. "There are certain… methods I'll have to employ to make that happen, and… I wanted to let you know."
"Yep," he said and adjusted his cap. "Okay. Sounds good to me."
"I'm not happy about it," she added.
"Bailie. It's part of the mission. I get it," he said. His smile was disarming, as was the shrug of his shoulders. "Don't worry about that. Worry about what you're gonna wear to use your feminine wiles or whatever."
She was caught off guard. Is that…? Was that the first time he's used my name?
"I always wondered about that," he continued, and pointed at the comm panel light, which had flicked back on. "How come it's 'feminine wiles' with a plural? Like how many wiles do you have? Can someone have only one wile?"
"You've definitely only got one wile," she said. "And that's on a good day."
"Uh-huh. I'll remember that the next time you order an orbital strike. Don't let her suck your brains out or whatever creepy sex vampire shit she does, alright?"
She placed her hand on his shoulder before she turned to go. "I'll do my best to keep them in my skull."
"Yeah. Don't forget," he said. When she looked back, he mouthed, "pictures."
/ / / / / /
Omega seemed bigger, grittier, and somehow greyer than ever and as Shepard approached the Afterlife club with Samara close behind, she felt her resolve waver. What even is this thing I'm wearing? She looked down at herself for the third time in five minutes. It's like a… burlap sack with straps. Was this really the best choice? Where did Kelly even find this? The heavy bass spilling out of the club reverberated through her leg, the stinging pain serving as an unpleasant reminder of her vulnerability. As if no armour and no guns wasn't bad enough. She took in a deep breath as they drew nearer, trying to shove the grainy images of Morinth's most recent victim out of her mind. Samara signalled for them to stop a short distance off from the turian bouncer. His eyes passed over them almost as if they were not there.
Shepard touched her neck with her fingertips in a nervous tic. "I'm only armed with a password here. This isn't what I'm used to," she confessed.
"I will be watching from the shadows, Shepard. You will not be left alone with her."
"Yes… I know," she replied, finding it inside her to at least sound resolute as she straightened up. "Let's get this done."
"You know what to do. Remember, do not get too personal with Morinth. Do not talk about feelings or family. Stick with interests."
"Right. Let's go." Shepard turned and walked out of the shadows, swaying her hips as she approached the bouncer. "Hey. A friend tells me this is where it's really at."
"Sounds like a smart friend. What's their name?"
"Jaruut," she replied, shooting him her best doe-eyed look.
"Huh. He seems to be sending over a lot of you short human types lately. Go on in," he said and tossed his head as he stepped aside. She winked at him, and then stepped into a world of noise.
/ / / / / /
Joker's fingers drummed on the side of his console, his eyes glued to the security cam feed. The placement wasn't ideal; Shepard and some asari dressed all in black - he could only assume it was this Morinth person - were just visible in the upper left corner. The two were next to each other at a table and he watched as her black-clad hand trailed down the side of Shepard's face. Morinth's posture was inviting and yet menacing, like a spider waiting for the right moment to sting her entangled prey. As her fingers drifted down the side of Shepard's arm, Joker felt the little hairs on the back of his neck all stand up. The whole thing felt wrong. She whispered something he didn't quite catch into Shepard's ear, who snickered as if laughing at a dirty joke and bent under the asari's touch, allowing her to slide in a little closer, almost between her legs. He frowned, a sharp pang of jealousy welling up inside him as he looked at the way Morinth had one arm around Shepard. Her fingertips dug possessively into Shepard's thigh. He clenched his teeth.
That was how he wanted to hold her; to stroke and touch her. It wasn't fair of him, he knew, but that didn't stop his blood boiling as he watched Morinth make Shepard react. That was how he wanted to try to make her feel. He couldn't look away. Stop being a dumbass, he chided himself. She doesn't want to be doing this. It's not even close to the same thing. However, as he watched Shepard's back arch under the asari's hands and heard her breath quicken over the audio feed, all the reason and sense in the galaxy did nothing to stop the ache of his longing. His desire for her to be, in some small and poetic way, his… and maybe even a little bit his alone.
"What's this?" he heard the hateful asari ask over the feed. "What are you playing with?" Morinth smiled and grabbed Shepard's hand as she fiddled with something in her pocket. "That looks like a Hallex wrapper to me."
"It might be," came Shepard's coy reply.
"You're the most interesting person in this place. I knew it the moment I saw you," Morinth said and smiled in her dreadful way as she plucked a piece of silver foil from Shepard's hand. The asari frowned at it. "None left for me?" she asked in a sing-song tease. Shepard took it back from her fingers just to give it a cavalier toss onto the table.
"Mmm, nope, all gone," she replied with a kind of girlish giggle that Joker found bizarre coming out of her.
"I want to be alone with you. I want you," Morinth said as she tickled under Shepard's chin. It was a little perverse, but he found himself wishing he had Morinth's confidence. Anything she said, she followed up on; every touch had a corresponding escalation. He hated the alluring way she cocked her hip as she beckoned for Shepard to follow. In a sense, he hated even more that Shepard responded with a coquettish tilt of her head, intrigue written plain across her face. It looked very genuine. An unpleasant feeling slithered around inside him. She looked so beautiful like that, looking at someone else, with her hands all over someone else, and that actually kind of hurt in a way he had not anticipated. He watched Shepard pause, waiting for the asari to get a few steps ahead before she snatched up the foil she dropped before.
It was difficult to see at first, but when he looked a little closer as she picked it up, he could just make out the foil was bird shaped. Shepard must have been keeping that dumb little crane he made for her in her pockets… His finger hurt. Joker realised he had been biting his knuckle and rubbed at the red indentations his own teeth had left in his skin. Ow, shit.
/ / / / / /
The view from the apartment window was the kind only a lot of credits could afford, especially on Omega. The furnishings that decorated the place were trophies, that much was immediately obvious. The sight of them chilled Shepard to the bone. Her living space was little more than a bright graveyard, full of meticulously clean headstones. She had to try hard to suppress her disgust at Morinth's vague comments about each item as she passed by. The game of cat and mouse was plain as day. Perhaps it wouldn't be so obvious if I was under her spell. Being under her spell was hard to resist, as well. Morinth was beautiful; alluring in both appearance and manner. Even her scent was attractive. Clean and spicy with a hint of something else that set her heart racing and directed her mind to baser desires. Looking over her shoulder, Shepard saw the asari draped across the couch, stroking one hand up and down her thigh in a way that captured her attention. Her violet-lipped smile was soft and inviting. She radiated a warmth that tugged at Shepard, drawing her closer even despite wanting to stay rooted to the spot. She'll get suspicious if I don't look like I'm into being here.
"I'm so glad we're alone," Shepard purred. Where the fuck is Samara?
"Yes," answered Morinth, her black, strappy catsuit glinting like something in the shadows of a rain soaked street. "So much better away from prying eyes."
Shepard swayed her hips as she walked to the couch and seated herself down. Giving Morinth something of a vacant stare, she did her best to appear consumed by her unwitting adversary's beauty. The trick appeared to work, as she felt fingertips pulling at her wrists. The little touch was exciting, and she found herself running her fingers down one of the asari's thick, ridged crests. She had never touched an asari before. The blue skin was pebbled with many fine scales, and despite herself she became fascinated by the texture. It was pleasant to run her fingers over. Morinth's hands slid around her shoulders and Shepard felt her back hit the couch cushions. Full lips brushed down her neck. It felt good; too good. Shepard couldn't help but give in, and it took concentration to squeeze her eyes shut, will herself to focus. Focus, and ignore the way Morinth's velvet touch eased between her legs and stroked up the insides of her trembling thighs, even though it felt good to part her knees just a little for her. How nice her lithe curves felt under her palms. How she could feel Morinth's hips with her thumbs and the heat of her firm body through those form-fitting clothes.
"Look at me," she whispered breathlessly. Shepard swallowed. Fuck. Morinth's fingers on her cheek directed her gaze. Their noses touched. "Your eyes… So bright, so clear."
Shepard drew in a breath filled with the delicate, sweet scent that surrounded the asari poised above her like a viper. Morinth's eyes were so dark, so… empty. She thrust one hand into her own jacket pocket, fingers seeking the little foil bird; its texture something else to focus on, to keep herself from slipping away. At first, she held onto the image of what it felt like to be sat on that Citadel bench in a moment of peace. But the image corroded, blurred like a photograph printed on wet paper. Her thoughts clouded over. Wait, no, wait. Her internal voice was so far away somehow. She thought about the bird. Or tried to? It was hard to think. The bird meant something very important. Shepard felt heavy all over, her muscles loosening as she stared up at Morinth through a haze. The bird meant… something. But so did those eyes. Maybe Morinth's eyes, as black as cut onyx, were all that mattered.
"Look at me," said the owner of those black, black eyes, and each word was like being kissed until breathless. She could do nothing but comply.
Something wasn't right. Instead of everything about her pulsing with pleasure like Morinth's words promised, she was going numb. Cold nothingness crept up her body, almost as if she was being sucked out of her own skin. She heard screaming. So many screams. Soft at first, but the voices rose to a cacophony; a hideous wail of grief and rage thousands strong. Shepard struggled, but was held fast. She could feel Morinth's mind where it wasn't supposed to be; poking, prying, invading. Shepard burned with the urge to scream. With horror, she realised - she knew that to scream was to die.
"F-Fuck… you…" She managed. Morinth's presence pulled back, surprised. In that same instant, the door to the apartment flew open to reveal Samara, her weapon drawn.
/ / / / / /
The coffee machine was out. Again. The damn coffee machine was always out. Joker sighed. As he poked around in the cupboard for a fresh packet of ground beans, he noticed as the ambient lighting brightened up and he squinted. Morning at last, he thought. He glanced toward the elevator as he tore the packet open and fussed with the machine. How long has it been now? Long enough. He'd expected her to have come to see him, or be in the Mess, but she never showed. Last night had been spent flipping from one side to the other until he gave up and came to the Mess for coffee and a distraction if there was one to be had. As it was, frames from the mission's monochromatic vid feed floated through his head so often they ought to start paying rent. He made his way over to the counter to get some food. Gardner offered him a plate of… something, he didn't really look. He all but snatched it from the cook's hand, mumbling his thanks when he turned to leave.
"The words are 'thank you,' Moreau," Gardner called after him, annoyed.
"Yeah," he replied, on auto-pilot.
"Damn thirty-year old kids, raised in a barn."
Joker looked at the time on his Omnitool and took a bite out of what turned out to be toast. Other crew members drifted in. People got breakfast and settled into the rhythm of a new day. He caught sight of Garrus and Tali sitting together and peered at them over the rim of his mug. They were too quiet to be eavesdropped on, but he watched them anyway as he sipped. After a moment or two of involved conversation, Tali placed her hand on Garrus'. The turian startled at this gesture and cast a furtive look around. In doing so, he met Joker's eyes, the mug still at his lips. Without missing a beat, Joker lifted his hand and gestured from his eyes, which he narrowed, and back towards them.
"Oh, Keelah, like you have any place to talk," the quarian said with a dismissive wave. He snickered into his coffee and finished it off. Teasing them felt good. Lining up the food on his plate, he resolved to think about the disappointing fried tomatoes rather than anything else.
"You're up early," chirped Kelly from just behind him.
"Oh," he said.
"'Oh?' What kind of greeting is that? Good morning!" she said. Kelly's nose got a little wrinkle when she gave playful smiles. It was endearing, kind of cute, and done too often. "You usually only ever roll out of bed ten minutes before your shift."
Kelly made as if to sit down across from him, so he pulled his tray closer to make room. "Mm, well. Sleep's for the weak," he said as he popped a tomato into his mouth.
"Are you alright?"
"Never better. I am strong like bull, smart like spaceship."
"Is that… code for something?" she asked.
"Sometimes I forget that no one else watches the old broadcast signals we get." He yawned. "Speakin' of, I'm gonna go see if there's any on."
"You're not on shift for another half hour. Why don'cha stay and talk?" she asked. "Ooh, did you read the debrief yet? I had no idea that's what it's like to get attacked by an Ardat-Yakshi!"
"I don't have to be up there. I like to be up there," he said and shrugged. "And no, I haven't read Shepard's latest airport thriller yet."
"Hmm, maybe you shouldn't. It's scary stuff. Alright! Have a good shift," she waved at him as he left.
People didn't make Joker feel better, usually. The feeling of familiarity and belonging he got with every step closer to his seat did. It never got old, no matter how many times he passed under the canopy of buttons and dials. That kid Harrison turned the chair around.
"Hey, Joker," he said through a yawn. "You're early?"
"Yeah. Go and head off. I'll have her a few minutes early today. Go get some toast, or whatever it is you do with your life."
"Sir," he said and vacated the chair.
"And don't call me 'Sir,' I'm not old enough to be a 'Sir' in this context."
Joker lowered himself into his seat. He tapped in the necessary details for shift change and leaned back to look outside for a moment. The Normandy was his again. To him, it felt like sliding into a warm bath on a cold, wet day. His euphoria did not last however, as with a keystroke he opened the task register and frowned. I forgot it was Maintenance Reports day today. He opened the first of many attachments and filled out spreadsheet after spreadsheet with data. After the fourth, or fifth, maybe eighth or possibly twelfth multi-paged monstrosity, he looked out the window again. How long has it been? He allowed himself a peek at the clock. Disgusting. Two hours.
He stared at the spot on his right-hand display where course corrections appeared and willed something to happen to it. Typically, course corrections arrived in some fashion within just a few hours of the mission debrief, but the dialogue sat blank. Ugh. That's right, the mission debrief, he thought, and drummed his fingers on the console. It was either read that, do the rest of the reports, or procrastinate by reading armchair philosophers on the extranet. One of his favourite haunts had some advertisement with an asari dressed in black. He looked off to the side and reopened the maintenance reports in a vain attempt to escape his own brain. As he allocated time frames for tasks, every few rows he stopped to push away the vid feed images that kept resurfacing.
This is not the time. He pushed back his cap and scratched his head with frustration. Dammit, I don't like this. This is affecting my job. This is exactly what I was afraid of and part of why I never approached her back on the SR1. He looked out to the hallway behind him. Of course, no one was there. Shepard certainly wasn't there, but he found himself looking down towards the CIC, just in case. The course correction dialogue sat empty, still. I didn't wanna have to deal with feelings like this… I know I get fixated on stuff… and it's really, really easy for me to fixate on her. Maybe all this isn't a good idea. Filling out another time block, he let out a heavy sigh. There are more important things I should be concentrating on. Like flying this ship. Like finishing these stupid reports. Like anything else… but… His eyes felt scratchy and the image of the Equivalent Airspeed display was burned into his eyes. Realising he had been staring at its nonsensical numbers for several moments, he rubbed at his eyes.
He imagined telling Shepard, his… What the hell even was she? Closest and best friend? He'd die for her and he knew it. Whatever she was… to just keep it professional. He imagined trying to cram whatever this emotion was back into its bottle he'd kept it in for so long. She would pull back inside herself around him and go by the book. A curt nod in the corridor. A conversation about the goddamn weather. No more reason for her to come to the cockpit for 'the view' like she mentioned. No more beers after shift. Definitely no more looking so far into those beautiful eyes. Absolutely none of that complete peace when he held her, or those sweet seconds where they kissed and he could swear their hearts were in sync. Forget those dreams of sharing himself with her, or of trying to make it up to her that he caused her death once, forgiveness aside. All those things filled him full of longing; stealing his focus. Making him worse at his job. Making him not be the best, which she deserved. Maybe… after the war?
He needed to focus. This is just like back at the academy, he thought darkly. I don't have room in my head for two things as big as this at once. The mission is what's important. I can't afford to be hung up like this with so much riding on both of us. She'd agree… I gotta talk to her.
/ / / / / /
Shepard scrubbed her whole body over for the fourth time. Her skin was red raw under the hot spray. Steam swirled around her toes and she sighed, replacing the soap. The creak of the water turning off was loud, and as she watched droplets fall from the showerhead, she touched a hand to her throbbing temple. I still feel dirty. Her disgust was like a slime she just couldn't get rid of. She wiped the mirror with her hand and stared into her reflection. Could there have been another way?
Samara had made it sound as if it was the only way. Maybe it was just the easiest way. If I'd stopped to think before just agreeing… maybe I'd have thought of something. Even as the words came to mind, she shook her head. Time was of the essence. Who knows when Morinth would have moved on? All of those hellish screams came floating up to the back of her mind. She shuddered, remembering the need to join them. It doesn't matter that I feel… violated? Samara asked for my help. I had to help. So I helped. Just…
Her knuckles whitened around the sink's rim. She couldn't lie to herself; Morinth's touch, her desire felt good, and knowing that felt disgusting. Repulsive, even. Morinth was a serial killer. She ran her hand over her head as she looked at her reflection, narrowing her eyes in distaste at how long her hair had grown out. She reached for her clippers. As she watched the tiny pieces fall into the sink, she replayed the scene in her mind over and over like a reel of film. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to scrub again… The water was still hot. I don't have to justify myself like this. Sex as a weapon is sometimes useful. Little bits of her dark hair swirled down the drain. This was the way it was supposed to play out. I was informed… even Joker was informed of the things I might need to do. She dried herself off and reached for her clothing, slipping a white undershirt and jacket on over her shoulders. Her fingers paused on the collar's buttons. I'm in the right here. He even said not to worry, didn't he? He understands. I'm overreacting. It was upsetting, but I'm overreacting.
Shepard sat at her desk, and scrolled through the end of day reports. Things were going well. Every nut, bolt and paint chip well accounted for. Still some work to do, but most of the crew had put their personal issues behind them.Take the krogan for a walk. Stop the dad from murdering his crew. Demolitions with Jack. Save salarian students. She picked up her bottle of pills, nearly empty. Her leg was healing up nicely. It would have scars, of course and there were a couple of odd indents in the muscle, but it felt so good to walk without those rickety crutches anymore. She felt more like herself, being more in control of her body - doing push ups before her shower was a snap.
A chime came from behind her and she looked up from her emails. Odd. I didn't arrange for - it rang a second time.
"I'm coming," she said, and tugged sharply on her jacket as she stood up, folding her arms behind her back as she stepped towards the door. It parted to reveal Joker, standing with his arms crossed, eyes just hidden beneath the brim of his cap. "Ah, I should have known," she said.
"Commander."
"Uh," she said. "Flight Lieutenant." She stood back. He hesitated, then stepped through. Stopped just a few feet away from the door and leaned against the wall. She stiffened. It was Bailie, earlier. Now it's Commander. "Do you want to sit down?"
"I'm alright standing. I've been sitting down all day."
"Okay," she said. Dread sucked all the heat from her hands. She didn't know what to say. She felt stupid and fumbling. "I'm listening."
"I don't know."
"Are you, ah… is this about what happened down on Omega?" she asked and willed herself to look calm. The ominous feeling in the air was like what she felt, time and again as a young girl, just before every conversation with yet another foster family right before they kicked her to the kerb. It was the same ugly feeling she got at eighteen, when her Flight Instructor told her over his shoulder not to wait for his calls anymore. It's not okay. It's not okay and he is about to leave.
"I get what had to be done," he said. When he looked up from the floor, his eyes were dark in a way she'd never seen before. "You just, I dunno. You seemed pretty into it. Guess I didn't expect that, or something."
"I had to look the part," she said, but there was no power in her defense.
"Yeah, I know you did. You just seemed real eager to have your hands all over her. I saw it on the feeds."
"I didn't-"
"You did," he snapped, and the look he shot her stung. He tucked his arms up tighter to his chest. He had never interrupted her before, and Shepard blinked, taking a second to digest this. Joker was always on her side - this was new.
"I was going to say, I didn't want to be there. You know that. If you were watching the feeds, then you know what we found out about her latest victim. I did what I thought I had to do," she said, fighting to control the desperation she felt inside of her, coiled at the back of her throat as if it was an animal threatening to leap out. Shepard wanted to scream in frustration. She just wanted to be understood. "I'm sorry," she said.
"Don't… Yeah, don't apologise. Look, I've been thinking about this whole you and me thing all damn day and I dunno what to do about it." He uncrossed his arms, letting them drop to his sides. Shepard wilted inside. "I can't think about anything else," he continued. "It's driving me crazy. I can't focus. You know EDI didn't say a word to me all day? Even it knew. Man, when even the AI walks on eggshells around you, you know you're pissed off."
Shepard looked off to the side, an unpleasant heat creeping up the back of her neck. "In my whole career, I've never had to do something like that. I don't… I didn't want… It… goes against how I operate."
"Oh yeah? You seemed to operate just fine to me," he snipped, too quickly for there to have been any thought behind it. His comment took a chink out of her armour. He really knows how to alienate people when he wants to.
Shepard couldn't escape the feeling that she had been here before. Not in this exact conversation, but in another, trying to convince someone else she was very fond of. On Horizon, she had bitten her tongue. She wouldn't now. "You can't possibly understand what that was like for me." Her voice wavered. "Someone came to me and said, 'the only way you can save a lot of people is if you help me. And the only way you can help me is if you let this person use you.'" She stared at the floor. "What was I supposed to say? No? That the principles I have about my body are more important than that?"
"Y-No." He shifted his weight and shook his head. "I dunno," he said quietly.
"No, you're right. You don't know," Shepard snapped. She took a deep breath to steady herself. "That was unfair of me." She tried to visualise herself as a cool, calm river, carrying the anger away. "Okay. I need you to understand that you're being unreasonable. I told you what I needed to do before this even happened."
"I know you did," he shot back, but the edge was gone from his voice.
"You said you understood. You told me not to worry."
" … I know I did."
"So, why don't you understand?" she asked, exasperation creeping into her voice as she spoke. Her hands fell from behind her back, against her sides. She saw him looking towards the door, and sighed. She closed her eyes in defeat and said, "I stand by what I said before… Your life will not get weirder or more difficult if you want to walk out that door."
His eyes met hers briefly before he looked back at the wall. "You can't promise me my life won't get weirder or more difficult. That's just kinda what happens around here. It's gonna get weirder and more difficult no matter what I do." He pushed off from the wall. "If it helps, that's not what I'm thinking, though."
"You're… not?" she asked. Shepard lost all her words except for a questioning noise as she put her hand to her lips. She could feel the corner of her desk pressing into her leg. The desk that had Kaidan's picture in it.
"No. Um. I think actually… we should sit down."
She walked down the steps toward the couch. "Gladly."
As he followed her she saw him stop at the desk. He picked up the crushed foil crane she had left beside her terminal.
"It was in my hand when Morinth attacked," she said and sat down.
"It's got… I'm guessing this is your blood on it?"
Shepard smiled ruefully as she held up her hand to show him cuts in her palm. "That's what I get for wearing nail extensions," she said. His expression softened as he placed it back on the desk and came to join her. After a moment, he slid his cap off, looking down at it and fiddling with the fabric.
"Hey, it's not that I don't understand," he said. "I'm not stupid. I thought, you know… I'd kinda enjoy seeing something like that? Instead though it just made me want to peel the tentacles off her head one by one."
"Believe me, I wanted to peel the tentacles off her head one by one," she said as she met his eyes. He didn't look angry at all anymore; only hesitant.
"It's like this…" he said, his gaze sliding down to the table. "Nobody owns you… I mean I'm sure Cerberus disagrees, but uh, that's not the point," he said as he continued to fiddle with the cap in his hands. "I guess I feel weird because in a way, I -"
EDI's spherical image materialised near the fish tank. "Commander, you have an incoming Priority Zero communication."
Joker let out a frustrated sigh. Shepard put her hand to her face in silence.
"Tell him to wait two minutes," Shepard replied, bristling.
"Yeah, tell him she's in the shower or something."
"I am under explicit instructions to relay coordinates directly to the helm and ensure that you act to receive this communication immediately," said EDI. Its central line flared. "Mr Moreau, please relieve the temporary pilot and assume the helm."
"Yeah, hi EDI," he grumbled.
"Hello. Please assume the helm immediately." The sphere disappeared.