"Jacob?"
Jacob grinned at Shepard's incredulous expression. Clearly, she'd simply been passing, but had noticed him—not that he was trying to be inconspicuous. He knew she was here, heard through the grapevine that she was circulating around, giving the troops a bit of a morale boost, so he made sure he was somewhere she'd be able to spot him.
"Hey, Shepard. Hell of a party." He held out a hand to receive her emphatic handshake.
"I didn't know you'd be here," she beamed.
He shrugged. "Call went out for volunteers for ground duty. I figured you'd be here, sooo…here I am. Thought the team ought to be back together for this."
Shepard nodded her agreement.
Well, he couldn't just hang around waiting. Once the Crucible launched, there would be a need for soldiers on the ground. Anyone with eyes could tell as much. He wasn't much use on a ship, and couldn't bear the thought of hanging back, even if it meant staying with Brynn, Rose, and Aileen, who were most of his world. He didn't want the assault on Earth to fail because there were too few volunteers. He'd never be able to look himself in the mirror if he didn't add his two credits to the general fund.
"Which detail are you on?" Shepard asked.
"Stiletto Four, with Maj. Coats. You'll never guess who I caught a glimpse of over the open comms," he added.
"Who?"
"Samara. Sounds like she's got a couple Justicar friends and they're lined up for Stiletto Two, the asari team."
"She's going to make some Reapers very unhappy." Shepard nodded, looking as though she relished the idea of how much damage Samara could cause if properly motivated. Clearly, Shepard felt the Justicar would have the proper motivation to set records for damage caused by one person. "I'll have to see if I can catch her before her team pulls out. Say hello, make sure she's got everything she needs."
Jacob nodded. It was something many of Shepard's crewmen had appreciated over the years: once they were her crew, they were hers, even if they didn't serve on the same posting. "You know, there's this great little bar in Rio—Hailee's Comet. Ever heard of it?"
"Yeah. Never been, but I've heard of it," Shepard answered. "I was usually over at Capt. Rick's."
Hailee's Comet wasn't exactly an Alliance hangout, as Capt. Rick's was, but it was one of his favorite haunts in Rio. "We ought to check it out when this is over. We'll hit both places, if they're still standing."
"Keep track of your kill count. Loser buys the drinks," Shepard grinned.
"It'll be through the roof. Not sure I can count that high…and only the fresh ones count, Shepard," he said with mock severity.
"Have you ever seen a fresh Reaper?" Shepard retorted pertly.
"I've seen a Reaper try to get fresh with you. That count?"
"It should, but no," Shepard chuckled. "I'll put it on my calendar—drinks with Jacob. How are your girls?"
He knew she meant Brynn as well, not just the twins. "Brynn's excited, a little nervous. You know how it is when a project's finished but not really over."
"Especially for scientist types."
"Rose and Aileen are coming along nicely. I've got holos," he opened his omnitool and opened a video file.
Shepard watched the two girls playing with a fond smile. "They're perfect, Jacob." She held up a hand and touched the interface, her fingers barely passing through the display. "Let's buy them a wide open future."
"Sounds good to me," Jacob agreed, nodding as he closed the video file. It was hard watching the twins when he wasn't there to see them in person. But he needed to be here for this; even Brynn, whom he'd expected not to understand, had understood.
You were part of Shepard's team, and she needs her people. It's okay, Jacob. I understand.
She'd even made him a lunch to eat on the way.
"Give them hell, Jacob," Shepard said, pulling him out of his reverie.
"You too, Shepard. Don't forget to keep your head down." He saluted her.
She returned the salute, then withdrew, sauntering off with the easy confidence of a person in her element. Unconventional or not, war was Shepard's element.
Jacob exhaled slowly, a cold sense of unease descending over him. He tried to tell himself that all soldiers knew, when they entered a war zone, that they were dead and just waiting for their birth certificates to be revoked. But there was something not quite right, and he couldn't put his finger on it.
Maybe it was simply that she hid any sense of being keyed up—she had to be, no one had that much ice water in their veins—better than most. She'd been so angry when they hit the Collector Base there hadn't been room for being keyed up. Now, she was just cold all the way through, like she had ice water or antifreeze pumping through her system.
Or maybe that was just what an N7 looked like in their element; their element was war, after all, and that was exactly what they were looking at here.
He though back to the first time he saw Shepard in a fight, the sense that the area in which she fought was something she could turn over in her mind, like a Rubik's cube, to be twisted and turned to suit her needs or preferences.
No, there was nothing out of place, he realized. It was simply that he hadn't been with her since the Collector hunt; everything that made an N7 a dog of war would seem out of place to him, because they were few and far between.
He sat down on the nearest surface and opened his message node to re-read Brynn's last letter, full of Rose, Aileen, and her love.
Shepard was right: it was time to buy his girls an open future, free from the Reapers.