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Shepard knelt in front of her locker, fumbling with the combination. Her shaking fingers couldn't seem to remember what it was, or to hit the buttons properly at all. Udina's betrayal had been sudden and thorough—and all the more devastating because she hadn't actually trusted him and yet she still hadn't seen it coming. She was so angry she could barely see straight. What did he think he was doing, keeping her here when the Reaper threat was still out there, when she had proven herself the only person able to stand up against Saren and give him anything like an even fight?

Her mind was racing, trying to come up with a plan, but she couldn't think properly. She kept thinking of Ashley, her bravery and the willingness to die doing what she believed in that had been in her voice in that last transmission; of Kaidan and the way he had looked at her when she admitted she had gone back for him because she had feelings for him. He had blamed himself for Ashley's death, had blamed Shepard and their attraction to each other, and had barely spoken to her since.

And he wasn't wrong. Shepard despised herself for making the decision as much as, or more than, he possibly could. She had allowed her emotions to rule at a time when a good commander thought tactically … but then, Kaidan had been the right tactical choice, too. Who knew how long it would have taken to fight their way through the geth to get to Ashley, and if they would all have been caught in the blast of the nuke if she had tried? Then they would all have died—and Ashley had known it as well as she had.

Regardless of the decision-making involved, Ashley had gone willingly to her death because she was a soldier, and because she believed she was losing her life in an important cause. Shepard could only imagine the way the Chief would have cursed if she had known the Alliance, her own people, would turn around so quickly and throw away their best chance at actually stopping the threat that was menacing the galaxy … and for what? A little bit of political gain?

Kneeling there, Shepard put her hands over her eyes. She could feel tears close to the surface—tears of grief and rage and frustration—and she didn't want anyone to see her like this. She hoped that if she just stayed here, pretending to be opening her locker, no one would notice her, and she could take some time getting herself together.

But behind her she heard soft footfalls on the industrial carpeting, coming toward her. She turned and looked up and saw Kaidan standing there. Part of her tensed, worried that he was here to express his disappointment in her for the decision she had made … but part of her relaxed. Of everyone on the ship, Kaidan was the one she had most wanted to see, just to spend a few minutes with him and maybe let go of some of this, put her head on his shoulder and be … Juniper, letting Commander Shepard go for a few minutes. But of course, Kaidan didn't know Juniper existed, not really. He was so focused on maintaining their professionalism, on not letting their feelings for one another cloud their ability to do the work … and increasingly Shepard didn't care. More than that, increasingly she wondered if maybe she would be stronger and better able to do the work if occasionally she could be something other than a soldier.

She sank down against the locker, leaning her head back and looking up at Kaidan, waiting to see if he was here to chastise or comfort.

His face softened as he looked down at her. "Commander, are you all right? I mean … of course you're not."

"How could I be? Grounded, as though I did something wrong, kept from being able to do what needs to be done, knowing there's a threat out there I can stop but some stupid politician won't let me? I'm pretty damned far from all right." She clenched her teeth, knowing that if she kept going she would start to cry and not wanting to put that burden on Kaidan. If she started, she wasn't sure she'd be able to stop. She didn't think he was ready for that … and she was fairly certain she wasn't.

"I'm sure there must be a way to appeal. We're under Alliance authority, after all."

"Yes, but the Alliance has to answer to Udina," she said wearily. "And Udina was the one who grounded us. Besides which, I tried already. Official channels are closed. Officially. They were quite clear about that."

"Closed?" he echoed. "And we're supposed to accept that?"

"They expect us to."

He scowled. "So where do you think the best view will be when the Reapers roll through? If we have to sit it out, may as well get a good seat."

Shepard was torn between irritation at him and herself and the whole situation; pain at the idea that he might think this was her fault, that she hadn't fought hard enough; her need for some kind of comfort or reassurance … and her automatic impulse to remind him that she was on top of things, because she was Commander Shepard, the first human Spectre, and she was always on top of things.

"We're out of the game for now. But …" She hesitated. She desperately wanted a shoulder, a friend, reassurance, a moment to feel, before she had to go back to finding a way to solve everything. "I … need you to be there for me while I figure things out."

"You know you can count on me, or any of the crew, Commander," he assured her.

Shepard swallowed against her disappointment. She wanted Kaidan, not Lieutenant Alenko—couldn't he understand that? "Come on, Kaidan," she said. "I can get a salute from anyone on this ship. Sometimes I need a shoulder. Just like anyone else would."

"Yeah …" He didn't sound convinced, and Shepard wondered, not for the first time, how much of what he felt for her was hero worship. She wanted him to see in her what she saw in him, someone who could become a true partner, someone to talk to, someone to share the burden with and laugh with and look forward to being with, but she wasn't sure if he could truly see beyond Commander Shepard to the woman inside her. "I always leave a way out, you know that," he added, and she wondered if that was it, that he was simply afraid to commit to something he couldn't get out of. Cooped up on a ship … well, they had all seen romances fizzle and go bad aboard ship and the anger and bitterness that came from not being able to get away from each other when you needed to. Kaidan looked down at her, earnestly trying to get her to understand his point. "I'm here for you, you know that, but we're in a rough spot, and the last thing I want to do is muddy things."

Shepard sighed. "Things are already muddy, Kaidan. Our own ambassador refuses to believe what we saw; he'd rather curry favor with the Council than take our side. And there's nothing we can do about that. But you think somehow it helps to pretend we're not creatures with feelings?"

"You're right, it's not really all that clear to start with. Are we the pride of the fleet or not? Are we valued agents or just peons?"

"I think Udina wants us to be a high-powered gun, one he can point where he wants it and pull the trigger on, and he finds instead we're a guided missile locked onto a target."

"Maybe he'll come to his senses."

Shepard laughed bitterly. That wasn't something she was willing to hold her breath for, and she didn't want to talk about Udina anyway. She looked up at Kaidan, shaking her head. "You really can't just pull out a good old-fashioned 'it'll be all right', can you?"

He smiled. "It's that easy, huh?"

"No, apparently not. But … I think it could help, if you'd be willing to give it a try."

"Okay, then, if that's what you want." He recited the words as if he had learned them from a book. "Everything'll be fine, Shepard." Then, sounding more like himself, he added, "You'll figure it out."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Shepard smiled back at him. "Thanks. I needed that."

His eyes softened, warming, as he looked down at her. "I think I could get used to it. And … on the bright side, I guess we have some down time to … figure out what we are?"

Shepard nodded, her smile widening. "That's the best idea I've heard yet."

Kaidan reached a hand down for her, and she took it, letting him pull her to her feet. He pulled hard enough that she lost her balance and fell against him, his arms coming around her as naturally as if they did this all the time. He held her there, and Shepard leaned her forehead against his shoulder, soaking in the warmth of his body next to hers and the comfort of being here with him and having just a moment where she didn't have to have all the answers.

"Shepard," he whispered roughly. "What's your name?"

She turned to look at him, hesitating. It had been so long since she had spoken it out loud, or heard someone else say it to her, that it felt odd to use it at all. "Juniper," she said at last, the word feeling strange on her tongue.

"Juniper." He looked at her, seeming really to see her and not his Commander for the first time. "Juniper. It suits you."

His face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath along her cheek as he spoke. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, her eyes closing as his mouth moved toward hers, his intention clear. She welcomed it. She had been kissed before, of course, but she had never wanted someone's kiss the way she wanted his, and it had been a long time since she had wanted any kiss at all.

Then the radio crackled to life in Shepard's suit and they jumped apart as Joker's voice came through. "Sorry to interrupt, Commander. Got a message from Captain Anderson."

Shepard glared up at the ceiling, as though Joker might actually be hovering there. "Are you spying on us, Joker?" She had no doubt that he was, and the barely concealed smirk in his voice as he responded didn't allay her suspicions at all.

"Not at all, Commander. Just knew you were on the ship and figured I'd pass the message on."

"I'll bet," she muttered under her breath, but she was smiling. It was hard to be mad at Joker for too long. "I'll be right up," she added more loudly.

"Yes, ma'am." The radio went off.

Shepard reached for Kaidan's hand, and it closed around hers, the touch comforting and energizing. "Later?" she asked.

"Definitely."