They almost made it. They were almost done. They were almost out.
The bomb was planted and all they had to do was set it and get the hell out of dodge, but nothing was ever that easy. There were just so many geth. One moment the salarians were holding their own against the onslaught at the anti-aircraft tower, and the next, Kaidan was shouting frantically over the radio that they were on the verge of being overrun. Shepard, of course, went running to his aid, determined to save as many lives as she could because that's just how she was.
That's when things got a hell of a lot more complicated. Almost as soon as Shepard stepped away, a geth dropship descended on the bomb site, pouring synthetic enemies from its maw even before it hit the ground. It became Ashley's turn to make a hasty report over the radio, shouting to be heard over the firefight.
And it became Shepard's turn to make a choice.
Disaster roared closer with every passing second. If anyone was to get out of here alive, somebody was going to have to bite the bullet—probably literally. And Shepard would make the difference. She could defend the bomb site to make sure the detonation went according to plan, leaving Kaidan to fend for himself, or she could go secure the tower and leave Ashley no choice but to set off the bomb with no escape.
Ashley knew how this was going to go, even before she took a laser blast between the gaps in her armor and felt something within her go very wrong. Even before Shepard had told them what her decision was. Even before the inevitable call of Williams, fight well. Die strong.
And she was okay with it. She was prepared to spend her final moments doing something heroic; something memorable; something hopefully valiant enough to clear the Williams name once and for all. If anybody lived to tell the tale of her sacrifice, that is.
She was ready to go down fighting. She said as much over the radio as she and Kaidan argued over who should live and die.
But Shepard never gave her the chance.
The commander's voice crackled over the radio. "Williams, radio Joker and tell him to meet us at the bomb site."
Ashley froze; almost took a laser blast to the face; barely recovered. When she brought her hand to her comm button to reply, it shook. "Y-yes, Commander," she managed. "I—"
"It's the right choice, and you know it," Kaidan's response cut off whatever fumbling protest she was about to make. But—
This wasn't happening. This wasn't right. If Ashley let someone else die for her, she'd never forgive herself.
But it wasn't her choice to make.
"I'm sorry, Kaidan." Shepard's tone would have sounded flat and emotionless to an ear that didn't know better. Ashley, however, knew better.
"I understand, Commander," Kaidan replied soberly. The sounds of gunfire in the background of his transmission were growing louder. "I don't regret a thing."
The channel went quiet.
Ashley felt like she was in shock—and maybe she was, given the gushing wound in her gut—as she tried to wrap her head around what she'd just heard. Shepard was coming back…for her? Instead of Kaidan? Kaidan, the senior officer? Kaidan, the valuable biotic? Kaidan, her old teammate?
She wanted to argue; to yell and rage and revolt against this unexpected twist of fate because I'm the obvious choice! I'm the expendable one! Yet, at the same time, a crushing wave of relief stole her breath away. She'd been trained for this; prepared for this; even warned of this when she joined up with the Alliance military. It was her duty to make any sacrifice necessary to complete her mission. That included her life. She knew that, in her head. But in her heart…of course she didn't want to die.
Ashley tried to swallow down the warring emotions within her and focus on surviving until Shepard got back. It wasn't easy, especially considering that she was now on the ground from the pain in her stomach and the waves of geth seemed to be getting bigger and bigger as time wore on (was that a Prime there in the back?). Her mind was caught in a loop of desperate prayer, both to God and to her commander, that they would not all die here. What a cruel trick it would be to give her this final burst of hope and then snuff it out just as fast.
Shepard arrived just before Saren did.
The commander ran in from the bay door leading to the tower at a full sprint, sparing naught but a split second to assess the battlefield before she was jumping straight into the action, planting her body and the barrel of her assault rifle solidly between Ashley and the geth.
"Status?" she called out as laser fire lit up the edges of her stony face in gold and the synthetics fell in droves before her and Ashley's addled brain thought it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
"Alive, ma'am," was the best Ashley had to offer, because as amazing and inexplicable as Shepard's rescue was, the gunnery chief was still definitely bleeding internally, and her hold on rational thought was still definitely slipping, if her preoccupation with Shepard's lithe, heroic form as it stood over her was any evidence. "Thanks to you."
Shepard spared her a quick glance and her dark red brows were bunched in consternation. "Don't thank me yet." After all, there were still a handful of geth firing on them, and there was an ominous silhouette descending from the belly of the drop ship. Ashley had one guess who it belonged to.
That, and just then, Kaidan died over the radio.
Ashley saw Shepard crumple inward—just a little, but enough—at the sound of her lieutenant's fall, like she'd taken a physical hit. The muzzle of her rifle wavered for a half second before she was mowing down the final geth with a furious vengeance, her back painfully stiff. Ashley knew what she was feeling—she'd lost her entire unit; she knew—but there was no time for comfort.
Not when Saren had just entered the field on some kind of personal hovercraft and started throwing orbs of biotic energy at them. Blue explosions on all sides forced the soldiers to retreat, Ashley behind the bomb (maybe not the best idea, but she didn't have a lot of options) and Shepard behind a wall off to the left. The gunnery chief was relieved when, for the moment, Saren seemed more interested in trading verbal barbs with Shepard than killing them.
But she knew that couldn't last long. She turned painfully onto her side in the shallow water next to the bomb, returning her attention to the controls on the side. She'd almost finished prepping the detonation when all hell broke loose, but not quite. Now, with the final steps within her grasp, she hesitated. What if they ran out of time? What if Saren held them up so long they failed to escape?
Well, then she'd see Shepard in heaven, she supposed. Setting her jaw, she armed the bomb.
Afterward, she honed in on her commander where she knelt under cover, awaiting some kind of signal. Something like snipe that bastard while he's distracted. Only, based on the potshots that Shepard had taken a moment ago, which glanced right off the alien's biotic shield, that wasn't really a viable option.
Shit. All Ashley could do for the moment was huddle under cover like a coward. That just went to show that Shepard had made a mistake in saving her. Kaidan could have matched Saren's biotics blow for blow. Ashley scowled at the weapon in her hands, then the slick spot spreading beneath the armor on her stomach. No Williams will ever be good enough.
The sound of gunfire brought her back.
Ashley risked a look up over the rim of the bomb and found her commander and Saren locked in combat—apparently their conversation had grown dull. Unlike before, the spray from Shepard's assault rifle seemed to be penetrating his defenses. Now was Ashley's chance to lend a helping hand.
The chief hauled herself up to brace her elbows atop the bomb, giving her a firm base from which to fire her sniper rifle—in theory. It would have been a whole lot firmer had she been in fighting shape, but right now she found her vision going starry at the edges whenever she moved. The warmth of blood on her skin was spreading further and further. She kept trying anyway.
Boom. Sparks off Saren's shoulder armor. Ashley readjusted; tried to steady her ragged breathing.
Boom. Bullet whizzing into the distance, harmless. She blinked hard, trying to focus. Sent up a frantic prayer.
Boom. Something on Saren's hovercraft exploded.
Chaos erupted on the battlefield. The blast from the damaged craft threw Shepard to the ground. Saren landed and in a few strides he was on top of her; had her in his grasp; lost his grip as alarms began to blare and a momentary lapse in attention gave Shepard the opening to deck him in the face.
Ashley almost laughed at the sight, but any thought of that was dashed against the jagged edges of her struggling lungs. Instead she just watched as Shepard picked herself up and began running toward the bomb—toward Ashley. Saren headed in the opposite direction, apparently electing to fight another day rather than stick around and watch his stronghold crumble around him.
Shepard's hurried footsteps splashed Ashley with water as she approached. She barely felt it. When her commander offered her a hand up, she took it gladly, biting back the cry of pain that the motion threatened to elicit. She could not, however, control the way the world spun as she straightened, or the way her body listed to the side and nearly toppled. Shepard's arms around her were the only thing that kept her upright. That probably would have occupied most of her headspace had she had any left through the pain.
"Williams," Shepard's worried tone cut through the haze of her muddy senses, barely. The pressure of the other woman's hand alighted on her stomach above her own, and Ashley saw her expression go grimmer as she registered the extent of damage (it was extensive). "Can you walk?"
Ashley went to respond, but her answer came out as little more than a groan. Shepard took that as a no and let go of her in favor of stooping to throw Ashley's body over her shoulder. And—ow, but it was preferable to staggering her slow, bloody way over to where the Normandy was just now touching down. She probably wouldn't have made it out in time on her own two feet.
The world tilted and blackened as Shepard lifted her and started moving. Ashley was only dimly aware of clinging to a solid shoulder as her commander hauled her toward safety like so much dead weight. And, really, that's exactly what she was when one got down to it, wasn't it? Useless. Burdensome. The one who lived, even though she didn't deserve it. Even though she was obviously the wrong choice. The mistake that would haunt her and Shepard like a ghost—Kaidan's ghost—for as long as they lived (which might not be long, but still).
Her vision started to go overwhelmingly blurry and she wasn't sure if it was from pain or tears. Neither would surprise her at this point. Distantly, she could hear Shepard addressing her breathlessly as they jogged up the Normandy's ramp: "Hold on, Williams. Stay with me," but as it turned out, even that was too much to ask of her.
In the next hazy moment of agony, consciousness slipped from her grasp and Ashley's head fell limp against the pillar of Shepard's support.
…
Shepard slept fitfully upright in the chair beside Williams' cot. Her head was tipped back against the wall in a sad substitute for a pillow, but it didn't matter much in the face of the nightmares that kept her on edge anyway. At least, they seemed like nightmares while she hovered on the twilight edge between waking and dreaming, but as soon as she snapped awake reality always came rushing back: there was nothing fictional about this.
Kaidan really was dead. She really was responsible. There really was no going back.
Her only solace was that she'd at least been able to save someone.
A glance over to her right, where Williams slept about as soundly as she, offered her a little comfort.
The chief had been in bad shape when they left Virmire. Shepard had hauled her to the medbay immediately upon boarding, and Dr. Chakwas had grimly reported that if she hadn't acted so fast, Ashley might not have made it either. Shepard tried not to think about what it might have felt like to lose two squad members in a single mission.
It made her gut clench to consider that Ashley had felt that; felt what it was like to lose her entire team. She wouldn't wish it on anyone.
Needless to say, it comforted Shepard to sit at Ashley's side and see that she was breathing. Recovering. Living.
It was also nice to see her without the permanent furrow between her brows; the serious frown pulling at her lips; her hair yanked into a regulation bun. No one could presume that she slept peacefully, but at least she slept at all.
Shepard's relieved attention meant she was watching when Ashley started to stir, first with a crumpling of her brow, then a twitch of her lips, then a flutter of her eyelids. Shepard tried not to stare; tried not to notice just how long and dark and lovely her eyelashes were as they revealed warm brown eyes, or—
"Shepard?" Williams' voice was rough and cracked and confused, and it drew Shepard like a siren song.
She was on her feet before she knew it, hovering at the bedside. Her hand came to rest on the thin canvas mattress an inch from Ashley's. Accessible, just in case. "I'm here," she said in her most reassuring voice (which wasn't, really) and forced down the knot of unwanted emotion in her chest. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got shot in the gut," Williams replied groggily, her hand going to her stomach, where she had indeed been shot. Her fingers met bandages, and her gaze slid down in bewilderment before widening. "Oh, shit," she cursed, voice sharper; clearer now. "That really happened, didn't it?" At Shepard's grim nod, she let out a shaky sigh and slumped back against the mattress. "I can't believe Kaidan didn't make it."
Shepard worked her jaw, trying to shove down the ever-present press of regret and guilt. It's my fault. "There was no time." That was her excuse. That was always her excuse.
"It should have been me," Ashley said hoarsely, almost to herself.
Shepard's heart twisted. "Chief."
"I'm sorry, Commander," Ashley edited quickly, swallowing thickly on a bone-dry throat. "Y-you saved my life. Of course I'm grateful for that." Here she squeezed her eyes shut, and Shepard was surprised to see a tear slip free. "But it should have been me. Alenko was a superior officer. I would have gladly stayed behind."
"I don't doubt that," Shepard acknowledged, forcing her back straight and her expression neutral. Forcing down the addition she wanted to make to that statement: that's why I couldn't let you.
Ashley cracked her eyes open again to search Shepard's face. Those dark irises were all too perceptive. "Why me?"
Shepard remained impassive. "Are you questioning my decision?"
"No. Yes." Williams pressed her hand to her brow and squeezed. "No. I just—I just don't understand."
"I had to choose. I chose you."
"But why?"
Shepard ground her teeth hard enough to hurt; pressed her lips together as if that would make it easier to hold back the truth. "You don't want to know the answer to that," she said, hardly above a whisper. She wanted to tell Ashley—or, she would have, if this were a perfect world where her decisions had no consequences and her gunnery chief would not look at her in disgust.
"What does that mean?" Williams demanded. The question was harsh; desperate, and far from appropriate given her rank, but protocol had crumbled away somewhere between here and Virmire. And Shepard could not stand it. She turned away. Ashley's voice followed her, rising in agitation: "Commander. Kaidan is dead, and I'm not. I think I have a right to know why."
Shepard bristled, like she always did when her defenses were threatening to fall. She took a few more steps from the bed, as if distance would help. It didn't. "No, you don't," she shot back. "You have a right to shut up and follow my orders."
"That's the best you can do? Our teammate just died!" Ashley cried, and it was almost a plea.
Shepard's first thought, snapping whip-crack to the surface, was people die all the time! But that particular line of reasoning reminded her a lot of Wrex, which gave her pause. She began trying to dredge up some other response; some other excuse that would sound better than I'm fucking in love with you, Ashley Williams, but she never made it that far.
A faint shuffling noise behind her was the only warning she got before Williams was pushing herself off her cot, trying to cross the distance between them.
"No—!" Shepard started, too late.
Predictably, the woman who had just been admitted to the infirmary with a gaping laser wound in her stomach was far from steady on her feet. The moment Ashley slid her weight off the cot and took a step toward Shepard, her knees buckled beneath her. Shepard lunged to catch her, one hand on her elbow and one around her waist, as Ashley cried out in pain. Their combined efforts prevented her from faceplanting on the floor, if only barely.
"Damn it, WIlliams," the commander growled as she wrestled with Ashley's weight. "Do you have a death wish? Is that it?" As angry as she was, she was more concerned about the state her gunnery chief was in—namely, how badly she'd aggravated her wound by overexerting herself. So even though her words were sharp, she tried to be gentle as she stooped and swept her teammate into her arms to lift her back onto the cot. Ashley's gasp as she did so told her that she wasn't wholly successful.
At least, that's what she forced herself to assume, because she would not allow herself to consider that maybe it was actually because Ashley was as hungry for contact as she was. Maybe she liked the feeling of Shepard's arms around her as much as Shepard liked having them there. Maybe she wasn't as straight-laced as she pretended to be.
But no. Shepard returned the chief to her place on the cot and let go quickly, cursing her wandering mind. Neither of them needed this right now. Or ever.
Ashley, however, seemed to have other ideas. Once she was seated, her arms lingered around Shepard's neck even after the necessity passed. "No, ma'am," she finally replied, and her voice was low and raspy. Just from the strain? Shepard would have thought so, except for the way Ashley was holding her gaze, too, uncertain but unmistakably intense. Except for when it flickered to her lips. What the hell was going on? "The opposite, actually."
Shepard felt a wave of heat racing up her neck into her cheeks and dropped her gaze to lock resolutely onto the mattress. No way. This was not a come-on. She was just making things up. She was just letting herself hear what she wanted to hear. Williams was not interested in her. Williams could not be interested in her.
Williams still had lithe, lean arms wrapped around her neck, and this close, Shepard was standing virtually in between her legs. And she didn't want that to change. But this wasn't something she could have.
Right?
"Ash," Shepard kept her eyes off her chief's face, fearing what she would do if she looked up and found something there she couldn't resist. "I'm sorry. I just—" She sighed and lifted her hands to rub at her face as if she could massage away the guilt. This was too much. It was all too much. Even with the way Ashley was acting right now, she would never forgive Shepard for the truth. But, was she right? Did she deserve to know regardless? "I—" She struggled, broke off, tried to make her tongue force out the words.
Ashley's hands slid down to close around her wrists and pull, uncovering her face. Shepard was surprised, both by the forwardness and the gentleness, and her eyes flicked up without meaning to. And—
Shit. She was just so—
"I care about you," she finally managed, coughing up the words like she would a lungful of water. "More than I should." She watched the chief's dark eyes for any reaction—shock, horror, and disgust among her top fears—but found nothing of the sort. Ashley looked nothing but…warm.
Shepard tensed. This—this wasn't right. This had to be a dream. Or a nightmare, as she was sure the sickening twist was about to come. Ashley didn't do this. She wasn't like this. She didn't like—
But Ashley was pulling Shepard ever closer by her wrists, touch so gentle, and Shepard let it happen. Her chest constricted painfully as the space between them narrowed to a dangerous margin. Her chief's eyes held her intently the whole way and her shuddering breath breezed against Shepard's lips, and it made the commander's heart trip concerningly in her chest. She could feel the air growing warm; causing a flush to rise to her cheeks.
At the same time, the rational part of her mind was screaming at her to stop, you idiot! You can't do this! You can't have this!
The problem was, Shepard wanted it.
She wanted Ashley. That much had been clear since the day they met, when Shepard had come across the fiery sole survivor of a massacre and witnessed for the first time her strength; her determination. And underneath the helmet, a beautiful woman besides. They'd only grown closer since then. As close as a soldier and her CO could get, anyway. And in doing so, Shepard had only fallen harder, even as she learned that reciprocation was so unlikely as to be impossible.
Except now they were here, alone in the medbay, tangled up together with their lips inches from disaster, and it had been Ashley who'd brought them here.
For the first time, Shepard's desires were within her grasp.
Only, they still weren't. She was still Ashley's CO. Ashley was still gravely injured. And they'd just been through a tragedy together, besides.
Shepard let out a strangled groan of frustration, torn. She was right here. Ashley was the one pulling her in, letting their noses brush, ghosting her fingers over her pulse point. That had to mean she wanted this too, right? That she was willing to throw aside protocol for once. Right?
Did that make this okay?
"Shepard." Ashley's soft voice jarred her from her thoughts. She certainly sounded sure enough, if the low, rasping quality of her voice—and the weight with which she said Shepard's name—was any indication.
But Shepard could not shake her reservations. "We can't—"
"Tomorrow is never guaranteed," Ashley interrupted (yet another thing to add to Shepard's list of unlikely events transpiring today), leaning in enough to rest her brow against Shepard's. "Virmire taught us that."
The commander shivered bodily at their closeness. She had to close her eyes, lest the mere look on Ashley's face right now break her resolve. "I'm still your CO," she husked, feeling the argument crumbling beneath her even as she said it.
"Damn the rules," Ashley whispered vehemently, right against her lips.
Shepard swallowed hard. "Never thought I'd hear you say that," she said, voice coming out shaky. This was it. This was the end of her rope. There was just too much heat; too much need boiling up in her right now to keep suppressing it. Ashley was right, after all. Tomorrow wasn't guaranteed. If Shepard died tomorrow, she'd do it regretting that she'd never let Ashley Williams know how she felt.
She was going to do it.
Damn the rules.
Ashley seemed to know it, too. Shepard could hear the smirk in her voice when she answered in kind, "Never thought I'd get this far." Felt it as the chief's hands slid up her arms to wind around her shoulders.
"Neither did I," Shepard breathed, and then leaned in to kiss her.
…