In defense of Kaidan

You were officially free of Brain Camp. Wait, sorry, not supposed to call it that anymore. BAaT was over, and I could hardly remember what life was like before it. Nightmares of Rahna engulfed every dream I had in Vancouver, the terror on her face as I hit Vyrnus. One particularly cold night, the dreams were too much, and I wandered my childhood home. The only sound was my father's snores and the gentle fall of snowflakes on the balcony. I stub my toe on a small box in the storage room-medals from my father's time in the service. He often said he would come home so bone tired he would sleep for days without dreaming. To my sleep-deprived brain, it sounded like heaven. Being paid to forget the nightmare of Jump Zero. I spoke with my father over bacon the next morning, and he assured me of his pride if I decided to join the service. I found pamphlets with only the good parts of the military, watched propaganda vids that depicted the heroism of the marines specifically. I even went so far as to look into promos from centuries ago. Awe swept over me as I fell in love with the long history of honor and pride. Movies with chiseled veterans winning over beautiful, intelligent women wrapped me in nostalgia as I signed on the dotted line.

Those vids kept me sane as I toiled through basic, did mind-numbing tasks that made every day blur into the next. Between that and the migraines, I could hardly remember basic as I found myself on my first post. My mother cried when I video called her in uniform. Dad lifted a beer in my honor. I'd been in for a little while, getting accolades for my biotics, getting my migraines under control when I had a stretch of r&r. A news program blared with breaking news. I ignored it at first- if it was really breaking news, I would've been recalled immediately. It was military based, as I saw the marine banner and anthem playing. Some unit was completely wiped out by thresher maws. The screen showed a blurry, but terrifying monster on screen. Wait, not all of them wiped out- a single survivor. The tv shows a clip of them being escorted to a medical tent, but the camera flashes obscure their face. All I make out is a name-Shepard. The only survivor of their whole unit. I imagine it must be worse to be the only one to make it out and live with the guilt than to die with them. A politician makes remarks about the hero, as they call them. A ceremony to commemorate the loss and celebrate the survivor. Shepard, they say, and the screen fades out.

I got a bit obsessed. Obviously, being the military, there wasn't much on this Shepard person. A hero, but nothing about their background. A born soldier by their service record. Accolades across the board. Then, something more. Captain Anderson, a decorated war hero, is doing a live interview. I'm in awe of his medals and stately presence as he speaks. But then he mentions his XO, a person named Shepard. Saying how instrumental they had been in this new role. An N7, the best of the best, serving under this war legend. I record the interview, and imagine being as decorated as those two. Their medals are made of enough gold to build El Dorado.

A rumor goes around the bunks late one night. A new mission- top secret. No idea what it was, but a bunch of names had been thrown forward. A brilliant pilot named Moreau, a decorated doctor named Chakwas, the famous Captain, and that name that carried me- Shepard. I showed off my biotics a little too hard when the scouts came calling. My bunk mate laughed at me as I did, saying that I had never been much of a show off before. The man nodded at me, and I watched him point at me while talking to my commanding officer. I was told to report to the Normandy before chow that night, and gone before sunrise the next morning.

The ship was beautiful. The most advanced thing I'd ever seen, and I'd seen a lot. The man who had enlisted me, a man by the name of Pressly, barked at me as I walked on the deck. A gesture of hands guided me towards where I could put my handheld storage locker. A few trinkets from BAaT and Vancouver, nothing more. Dozens of people milled about, and I was told to rest before the brass showed up the next day. I marveled at the engine until a man by the name of Adams told me to hit the sack.

I woke at dawn and swallowed chow in seconds. I went back up to the main deck, and awed at the galaxy map. The doctor and a private were up at the front in deep discussion. Then I felt my whole world shake. A soldier-a very beautiful one- approached the two. She seemed to be dressing down the private, though she seemed kind about it. He looked too amped up, high on propaganda and seeing all the new tech. Looking to prove himself. The soldier turned around, and I felt a pang in my gut. Not my chest, no. My gut. None of that adolescent love at first sight stuff. No. A shift, like a shift in the universe, now that I had seen her. Something in my mind said this is the beginning, but also the end. Like a thread sucked into a vacuum. That soldier was now the center of my universe, our fates intertwined. How crazy that sounded, but the feeling in my gut didn't ease. The tides had shifted.

The moment ended, and she turned. I saw her whole face for the first time, and was in awe. Scarred, yet stunning. A gentleness remained in a soldier's face, easy to see even from a distance. The exhaustion was there, though, but it did not diminish her in anyway. She was striding over to me, eyes locked on my position. My breathing stopped, a small child captivated by their superhero. Her footsteps stopped mere inches from me, and I snapped to a salute. But her eyes didn't reach mine, as she stopped to address the navigator- the man named Pressly. Her voice was a smooth cadence, no edge to it. To the point, but a bit of a smirk in it at. Times. I was ensnared as she spoke, though the words washed over me and their meaning was lost. Just the sound of her voice was enchanting. I held the salute way too long, and she noticed me as she walked away from Pressly. Her eyes met mine for the first time, and that pang swallowed me again. I probably look in pain, chest puffed up as far as it can go, and my hand pressed hard against my face. "At ease, soldier." She says, and snickers as she walks off. I remember to drop the salute long after she walks off. The chow bell goes off, and I try to remember to breathe.

Captain Anderson and Nihlus dropped by the bunks that night, whispering in the darkened room. They were scouting out a team for Shepard, talking through names. Nihlus asked if there was anyone who would be best to defend Shepard, but not overshadow her. Wanted to see her in action, the real leader in the squad. My voice was groggy from sleep, but I piped up. Anderson seemed surprised I was awake, but Nihlus did not.

"What was that, Alenko?" Anderson asked. I hopped to attention in front of the war hero and the dangerous turian.

"I'll defend her with my life, Captain." My voice was a whisper, but it was as strong as my resolve. To serve beside the Commander was the greatest honor I could imagine.

"Alenko is a great candidate, Nihlus. Apparently very gung-ho as well."

The turian appraises me quickly. "Yes, a biotic should be a good complement to Shepard. I'll leave the last choice to you, Anderson." His voice carried throughout the room, though his tall figure was already out in the hallway as he dismissed us. I crawled back into my bunk, thoughts ablaze with the conversation. THE Commander. I'll be working with the commander.

Anderson gave me a debrief of the situation before I met up with Shepard. I was to protect her at all costs, not go looking for a medal of my own. Though, I felt he should have saved that conversation for Jenkins. That kid was after glory. I just wanted to see the hero of Akuze in action.

If I wasn't in love with Shepard before the mission began, I was hopeless after. The way she used biotics to destroy enemy after enemy without breaking a sweat left me in awe. Missions always left me with migraines, but she never tired. Like watching a warrior goddess smiting the unfaithful. She was strong, and that made her beautiful. The way she spoke kept me tethers, and her unending sense of good and justice was inhuman. Every soldier got tongue-tied in front of cameras, or made a bad joke about aliens behind the scenes. But not her. Never her. The world was deserving of kindness and goodness and joy and she would make it so. I believed in so little before her, but after meeting her, she was all I believed in.

**The events of Mass Effect 1 plays out.**

*Mass Effect 2 begins.*

There was a lot of guilt at first. The doctor clacked away on her Omni-tool as we spoke. "Survivor's guilt is one of the most common things soldiers deal with after facing battle." She said it as she was writing me a prescription, looking through my biotic files all the while. A dose of stronger migraine medication and something so the anxiety wouldn't keep me from sleeping. I wanted to grab her and ask her how I was supposed to go on living when my reason for living had died under my watch. The doctor sighed, and espoused more words of wisdom before shooing me off. An unlimited supply of medication didn't make Shepard reappear. I went to speak to Anderson afterwards, but every step in the Citadel was like ice shards in my legs. The conversations we had, the things I'd seen for the first time with her. Even the damage from our firefight and Sovereign were still there, mocking me.

Anderson knew why I was there better than I did. I came into his office without speaking and just sat down in front of him. He put his large hand on my shoulder, the first human touch I'd had since Shepard died. Too many emotions swamped me, and my biotics flared in response. He took both my shoulders in his hands and pushed me down in the chair hard.

"Look at me, Alenko!" He yelled. "I know that no one understands how you feel right now. How angry you must be. How guilty. Every soldier knows that feeling of loss, of despair." His brown eyes come into focus as the tears fall from my face. "Would Shepard give in to despair? Would Shepard want you to break at her loss? What would she say to you, right now?"

Her eyes flashed in my vision, her voice echoing in my mind. She'd spoken of loss in her career once. "She'd tell me it wasn't my fault. That I'd done the best I could and that I could just try to do better next time."

"Say that first part to me again, Alenko."

"It wasn't my fault."

"Well, I think you knew our girl pretty well then. It doesn't get better, Kaidan. It does get easier."

I was on leave for awhile after that. I'd sustained some injuries in the fight as well, and they sent me home to Vancouver on paid leave. A thank you from the Council, no doubt. As if sitting at home and listening to news of Shepard's death and victories was better than working. As if thinking about all the things I wanted to show her back here at home wasn't torture. As if her eyes weren't in front of my vision every hour of every day, and the only thing that made it stop for awhile was being on duty. I found an abandoned plot of land and tore it apart with my biotics. I shot every piece of metal in the place. I screamed and I yelled and I fell down in the shrapnel and dust and begged for the pain to stop. But the moment the migraine stepped in and my biotics grew weak, she was right there again. Telling me I deserved to be happy. I deserved to find peace.

Shepard, can't you see? You were my peace.

*Horizon*

Anderson got me a new duty detail. Not very interesting stuff, but it kept me busy. It wasn't hard to convince him, and I think he knew how badly I needed to escape into my work. With time, I'd found the beginnings of healing. The anger went away first, I was never much of a hothead. The guilt was always there, though. But it went from an all-consuming self-hatred to a sadness in my heart. It lingered, but I could bear it. Most of the time. Her image was played less on vids, and new heroes were spoken about on the news. The crew had dispersed, and I wanted space before I sought them out again. Too much pain. Too soon.

I'd been out drinking with a girl, just to get out there again. I'd spent most of my life since working out or burying myself in monotony. It was nice to talk to someone, though I wasn't keen on her. Lovely girl, and if I'd met her before Shepard, maybe I'd be keener. But how can anyone compare to the shadow of the commander? My hero and my love. She realized how in love I still was too, I think. But she still insisted we get drinks together now and then. I think she was lonely, too.

It had been a routine day when the bugs came. I'd been in my armor already, thankfully. I watched another guard get stung by those things- and realized how badly I needed to get shelter. I threw up my barrier and hoped it would help me while I ran for the most private place I knew. I tried to save people as I ran, but it was useless. The place I would go when the grief was too much was safe from those monsters. A computer monitor was placed in the bunker I was in, and I saw several figures storm into the compound. They gave the bugs a real fight, and before long I saw them beat them back.

But one of the figures- I paused, unsure if I was hallucinating- looked like her. The armor was different, sure, but the gait, the height, and that warrior goddess pose- it was my Shepard. I left the bunker and ran towards the compound. I only realized I had no idea what I was going to say. What if it wasn't her? What if I'd been stung and was hallucinating all of this?

But there she was. And Garrus with her as well. The love of my life, the one who I'd mourned, was standing in front of me. Emotion isn't a great word for what I felt. A tsunami of feelings unleashed from me, good and bad and everything in between. That feeling in my gut told me it was her, every fiber of my being screamed to touch her, kiss her, scream that she was here and I was here and the whole universe could stop if that was true.

But the insignia on her armor stopped me. One I remembered too well. One I'd seen on buildings and bodies that Shepard and I had dealt with. Terrorists. Horrors came back to my mind as I saw that insignia on her chest, ones my Shepard, my commander, knew all too well. Had she lived through the ship crash? Had she been picked up and brainwashed by Cerberus?

Her words came out in that same silky tone, that voice that wrapped me in warmth and awe. But they were wrong. My paragon of justice and truth was working for pillars of villainy and hate. She'd come back to life she said, as if that was possible. Maybe Cerberus did have the means to do that, they'd surely had lots of resources to do it with. But that wasn't my Shepard. I looked at the scars on her face, all in the right places. But the woman I loved would never even think about joining up with the enemy. She was kind to me in spite of everything. Asked me to join her, and Garrus nodded in agreement. For a moment, I thought I could talk her out of it. Thoughts of her and I entwined, ready to head off to the next adventure at any moment filled my head. When I looked down, though, all I could see was the bodies of the people we'd seen Cerberus kill. In spite of it all, I still loved her. No matter how twisted up I was inside, I loved her. With every fiber of my being, I was hers. She was not mine, for who could own something so perfect? But I was now and forever, hers.

Anderson had become my de facto therapist for the time being. The other one just hucked meds at me. He told me I could send her one message, just one. To get closure, he said. I wondered if he thought I might be able to convince her. I spent twelve hours locked in a room, writing and rewriting the message. Begging, pleading, desperate pleas were written and then deleted. I finally wrote one that sounded less like an unhinged ex-lover and sent it in a sleep-deprived state. I wondered if she could hear the chaos in my mind that she had wreaked through my letter. The pain I had felt every moment she had been gone. Could any of that be translated in a letter?

I don't know. I don't know if she knows any of these things. She's been trying to save the galaxy this whole time, not realizing she was already the center of mine.