May 19th, 2177 CE
Jasper stares blankly out at the crowd, doing his best to contain his anger. A promotion. He loses his entire platoon on Akuze, and they want to give him a fucking promotion and a ceremony. Guess they had to salvage this somehow, he thinks darkly. Everyone is telling him to let old ghosts lie, well he won't. Those people are dead because he wasn't good enough to get them out alive. He was their commanding officer, why did the Alliance need to save face?
Captain Ćosić interrupts his train of thought with a polite cough. Admiral Hackett is staring at him. He solemnly rises to his feet and approaches the podium.
Hackett pins his new rank to his breast and shakes his hand. "You did us proud son. You survived the impossible on Akuze, and the Alliance couldn't be prouder to have you in our ranks. Is there anything you would like to say?"
Jasper smiles grimly. "I would Sir, bless your heart."
Some members of the crowd begin to murmur amongst themselves, and Hackett narrows his eyes. Guess that little gem isn't as subtle as Pa made it out to be. An awkward pause ensues, but after a moment, Hackett steps back and gestures to the podium with an open arm. Jasper nods and takes his place.
He leans in towards the microphones. "Citizens of the Alliance, I stand before you today alive, but not proud." The murmurs grow in intensity.
Jasper steels himself. "What happened on Akuze is a tragedy, and I am not who you should be celebrating today. You should be celebrating names such as Gunnery Chief Xavier Nadra, Corporal Robert Toombs, Private 1st Class John Diez, and Private 1st Class Wesley Farkas, and the other marines who lost their lives that day."
The murmuring dies down, the crowd staring at him with disapproval. Jasper doesn't care. Hackett steps into his space, and Jasper, for as angry and bitter as he is, knows better than to resist an Admiral. Hackett eyes him coolly as he resumes control of the stage, something unreadable in his eyes. Jasper returns to his seat, feeling the heavy glares of higher-ranking officials on his back all the way to the chair. He returns the glares as soon as he's seated, his granite gaze withering.
"The Lieutenant is correct. If not for those brave marines, we would have never been able to root out the Thresher Maws on Akuze. The colony growing there owes their new lives to them, and the Alliance won't soon forget that fact." The crowd begins to look on with favor again.
Hackett gestures to where Jasper still stands. "But I disagree with the Lieutenant's opinion of himself. No ordinary soldier could've survived what he did. I'd say that does, in fact, make him a hero."
The crowd begins to murmur again. Hackett clears his throat. "That said, the Lieutenant isn't the only one we're here to celebrate…"
Jasper tunes out most of the ceremonies after that. At the end of the evening, Hackett approaches him with that same cool look back in his eye.
"Congratulations, Lieutenant. You made quite an impression tonight." Hackett's face remains damnably unreadable. He holds out a hand.
Jasper shakes it, fighting off a wince at the older man's unexpectedly tight grip. "Thank you, Sir."
Hackett stares him dead in the eye, cool blues meeting granite grays. Jasper feels like a boy again, looking into those cold eyes. "You have your heart in the right place Lieutenant, but you need to clear your head. Your promotion comes with some mandatory shore leave, I'd put it to good use if I were you."
Jasper blinks, and the next moment, Hackett turns and strides away from him. Jasper stares after him for some moments, trying to gather himself again. He recognizes the dismissal, and his fist clenches, knuckles going white. He glares determinably as he makes his way to the lobby doors. The only thing he can do is make sure that what happened on Akuze will never happen again. He won't lose anyone else under his command. He swears it.
June 16th, 2177 CE
"Staff Lieutenant Jasper Shepard of the Systems Alliance,
We would like to extend to you an invitation to train at Vila Militar in Rio de Janeiro. Please respond promptly, as the course will begin in a week's time.
The Interplanetary Combatives Academy"
Jasper doesn't even think twice before writing a response in the affirmative. He's been going to a local gym here in Dallas to keep up his physical conditioning, but the Alliance has confiscated his omni tool, and he's not allowed into any local firing ranges. The N7 program will make him the best soldier he can be. He owes it to them to accept.
December 31st, 2177 CE
Jasper Shepard huffs as the crowd begins counting down. He's on Elysium, resting after the completion of his grueling N4 training stage. Three stages to go, and he'll be one of the best. The training doesn't come easy, but Jasper has drive and a thorough work ethic on his side. He'll make it, and then he'll be ready for anything.
His terminal alerts him to a new message. Ma. He ignores it. He can't afford any distractions. What if Leng were to come back onto the scene tomorrow? Would he be ready? What if the Alliance throws Ainsley, Vanessa, or Cyril at a nest of Thresher Maws, could he save them?
No. The only way forward is to finish his training as soon as possible. The next course opens in three weeks, and the Alliance is kind enough to count all his missed shore leaves. Just enough to finish, lucky him.
As the sounds of jubilation filter in through the window, he determinedly clenches his eyes shut. After a few moments, the music fades into haunting shrieks, and howling winds…
July 9th, 2178 CE
Shepard stonily stares at himself in the mirror, the N7 insignia freshly pressed onto his armour. He's done it. He's one of the best, and he's ready for anything now. Nothing like Akuze will ever happen again. But… There's a price to pay to be the best, they say. His price had been his friends.
Florimond falls out of contact after May, having left his university for parts unknown to pursue a career as an artist.
Fiddler vanishes after her tour on the Alytus in March, having long since blocked Jasper's frequencies.
Holst stops trying after he'd ignored her congratulations on passing the N1 stage.
Ma is busy with her own postings, and her message from New Year's was a somber congratulations on his progress, and reminder to visit his father between stages.
He half expects to get a mocking message from Leng someday, challenging his status. But it's doubtful. He's begun to think Leng is dead or has lost interest in him. Nearly two years of nothing have put a damper on his fear of the man.
Now he's standing in a hotel room in Rio, staring back at himself and wondering when his eyes had gotten so cold…
June 10th, 2178 CE
Shepard walks with newfound confidence towards the SSV Havana, passing soldiers eyeing him with respect and wariness. This is so different from his last boarding. The way these people look to him, but not at him is… It's not what he thought this would be like.
He exits the airlock to greet the Havana's captain, who shakes his hand firmly. "Staff Lieutenant, welcome aboard. Corporal Hendricks here is one of your new fire team leaders, he'll take you to the quarters to meet the rest of your squad. Any questions?"
Shepard shakes his head; he can get the ship's emergency protocols down after he's made connections with his people. "No Sir." The captain nods and returns to his terminal.
Shepard turns and offers his hand. "Corporal, it's good to meet you."
Hendricks shakes his hand cautiously. "You too, Staff Lieutenant. Listen, the others are worried that after A—"
Shepard holds up a hand. "Corporal, I promise you that nothing like that is going to happen on my watch. I'll keep you and your people safe if it kills me. Understand?"
"Y-Yes Lieutenant." Hendricks sounds nervous. Why? Jasper scans the man out of his peripheral in the elevator, he seems jumpy. Oh. Right. Shepard supposes he is being a bit stiff.
"Just make sure to use the extra buckles when I drive. I don't believe in turning." He says the words as charmingly as he normally would, but it sounds… wrong. Hendricks looks at him incredulously, posture even jumpier.
"Right… I'll… keep that in mind, Lieutenant." They arrive at the crew's quarters and Shepard makes his usual introductions. The squad seems uneasy. After his disastrous last outing in a command position, Shepard understands why. He reassures them that the mistakes he made there will never occur again, but something in his tone must be off. They seem even warier. Why?
January 6th, 2180 CE
Shepard glares at his drink. Mandatory shore leave. A waste of time. Every second he sits here, he could be out there, helping. What if his platoon runs into the Blue Suns? The Blood Pack? The Eclipse? Out in the Terminus Systems, anything is possible. That's why they should—
"Just drink it, son."
Shepard tenses at the unfamiliar voice coming from his left. He glances warily that way, to see a man leaning against the wall nursing his own drink. When did he get there? Shepard's been keeping tabs on everyone coming and going here. No one sneaks up on an N7, no one. It's not possible.
The man sighs as he watches Shepard's wheels turn. It's worse than even Hannah had guessed. When she'd first approached him about her boy, he'd thought it would be a routine pep talk. Now he sees that he has his work cut out for him. He perks up as Shepard downs his drink and stands.
"Who are you?" Shepard's body is tensing for a fight. He doesn't want that.
"Captain David Anderson of the Tokyo. Settle down, son. You look like you're going to pull something." Anderson finishes his own drink and calmly walks forward to place it on the bar. Shepard's relaxing, if only a little. It'll have to do.
"What do you want with me, Sir?" Shepard raises a brow, trying to read him. Anderson brushes off the stony stare. He's seen a lot worse, from a lot more dangerous. Still, if the reports are anything to go by, Shepard has a hell of a lot of potential. Now he just needs someone to yank the stick out of his ass.
"I want you to come with me, Shepard. We're on our last day of leave, and I've got permission from the Alliance brass to bring you aboard. I want you to lead a squad for me. Other Ns." Shepard blinks, and Anderson valiantly holds back another sigh.
"I'd be honored, Sir. But I have to ask, why me?" Anderson meets his eyes firmly.
"Because I want the best. I've heard that might be you. You need to work on that attitude of yours, but I think you'll be good, hell, maybe even great." He tilts his head and makes for the door, and Shepard falls into step with him automatically. The younger man is puzzling over his comment about his attitude. Good. The sooner he reflects on that, the sooner Anderson can see what he's capable of.
He'd spent weeks going over Shepard's service record. Before Akuze, the man had an uncanny ability to forge connections with his crew. He'd been able to keep up morale through the worst of circumstances. If he could combine that with the efficiency he's been displaying after his N7 commendation, he'd be a force to reckon with. Anderson is determined to bring that force out of him. This is about more than a favor to an old friend now, this is for the best of humanity.
"I'm guessing you already had my things gathered from the hotel." But for now, Shepard talks like a machine, all inflection, no emotion. It's a sobering reminder of what's happened to him. This is going to take a while.
"Yes. We'll get you to a meeting with the crew as soon as we board. They'll be a little looser with protocol than what you're used to." Anderson smirks at Shepard's rising brow.
"You'd be surprised, Sir." Right. Leng. He'd forgotten that Shepard had served with him.
"I think you're being a bit presumptuous, Lieutenant." Anderson glances at him, it's enough of a sign for the younger man to fall silent. They spend the rest of the journey in professional silence.
September 17th, 2180 CE
Shepard is finally letting loose on shore leave. He's got a long way to go, but they've been making good progress. Anderson smiles into his drink as he watches the man fleece yet another poor bastard at the card table. Shepard's poker face is damn near impenetrable, but Anderson's been watching him most of the night. Seems as good a time as any to test his luck. He pays for the drink and makes his way to the freshly vacant chair.
"Alright Shepard, I don't want any funny business. You play with me, you play for keeps, understand?" Anderson raises a brow. Shepard sobers, and nods firmly.
"Yes, Sir." Anderson smirks.
"Alright dealer, hit me."
Anderson will later recall that this is the closest Shepard ever came to beating him at cards.
May 30th, 2181 CE
"Congratulations, Commander." Anderson shakes his hand vigorously. Shepard smiles toothily for the first time in years.
"Thank you, S—" A serious stare cuts him short. Shepard sighs and tries again. "Thank you, Anderson."
Anderson grins. "That's better."
Shepard is coming along better than expected. Anderson feels pride swell in his chest. He's gotten this promotion off the back of his own excellent work, which Anderson feels is a hell of a lot better than the last one. Whoever had decided to promote Shepard so quickly after that shitshow on Akuze should be court martialed.
The man had needed counseling, not imposter's syndrome. But it doesn't matter right now, Shepard's in good hands, and Anderson doesn't plan on letting him go anytime soon.
June 16th, 2182 CE
Shepard smiles serenely as he takes the quivering boy from the man's hands. His Gunnery Chief slaps the bastard in cuffs to and leads him away, but Shepard manages to keep the boy calm throughout the entire ordeal. He didn't know he still had it in him to charm someone like that. It feels… good. Great, to end this without bloodshed, like the old days. Before… Shepard's smile falters for a moment, but when the boy begins to ask him what's wrong, he returns to the present, and keeps it up.
"Nothing's wrong, kiddo. Now, let's get you back to your Ma." The boy cheers as Shepard hoists him onto his shoulders.
Anderson, who's been listening from the comm room, glows with pride. He's done it. He tells his yeoman to send Hannah a message to keep her comms ready. Her son should be in contact soon.
July 4th, 2183 CE
Anderson sighs as he returns to the Tokyo. The Normandy's test flight had been more eventful than he'd anticipated. As he enters the CIC, he sees Shepard making his way over with a worried frown. He smiles.
"Relax, Shepard. I'll live." Shepard crosses his arms.
"What happened, Anderson? You look a little too worn out for a test run.
"I met the Normandy's pilot today, he's a bit of a wild card." Anderson moves past Shepard with a smile at the younger man's pensive frown.
"That's not a lot to go on, Anderson." Anderson turns briefly to smile wider.
"There's nothing to go on, Shepard. Now come one, I feel like a game. Maybe you'll get lucky this time." Nothing like teasing his competitive streak to make Shepard relax and focus on the important things. Like winning. He falls into step naturally, grinning boyishly.
"Maybe I will, Anderson." The two share a laugh as they enter the elevator and head to the observation decks, where Anderson is sure a crowd is already gathering to watch the show. Big things are coming, he can feel it. And there's no one he's rather have at his side than Commander Jasper Shepard.
Author's Note
Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this. If you have any thoughts, please leave them in a review. I'm thinking of expanding on this fic, and would really appreciate any feedback you can offer. Thank you for your time. :)