Ryder squinted at her omnitool as she read Kesh's note for the fourth or fifth time today. Only a few minutes had passed since the last time. Part of her was still convinced that it was some sort of ruse or prank on the krogan's part; it was simply too good to be true. The Commander Shepard, alive and in Andromeda? She refused to believe it. The woman had died during the final battle of the Reaper war, with some saying her sacrifice was the very thing that ended it. But now here she was on Kadara, among those exiled in the Nexus uprising.
Supposedly.
The bartender at Kralla's Song hadn't confirmed or denied it when she'd asked earlier that day. All the asari said was to come back around closing, so here she was, twenty-ish minutes before last call. She'd been sitting near one of the windows for some time now, nursing a glass of fruity asari liquor. It was because she liked the taste, she told herself. Certainly not because her nerves needed deadening or anything like that. She was just following up on a rumor – a convincing one, but a rumor nonetheless. So far, it seemed like the bust she knew it would be.
Commotion by the door caught her attention. She looked up, setting her drink down in the process, and saw that it was just a boisterous krogan getting into it with an equally drunk turian. Her gaze was just about to return to the vista on her right when she caught a flash of crimson hair cutting through the crowd. She followed the flash with her eyes, and her heart skipped a beat when its owner strode over to the bar and took a seat, back to her. Any doubts she had vanished in an instant, before she noticed the signature red-and-white stripe down the right sleeve of the woman's jacket.
Ryder sat there for a few more minutes, doing her best not to stare slack-jawed, as the one and only Commander Shepard ordered a drink. When the bartender had served it to her, the asari looked up and met Ryder's eyes. Ryder thought she saw the faintest hint of smirk on the woman's lips before she turned to deal with another customer. Thankfully Shepard hadn't paid the gesture any mind – she really didn't want their introduction to start with "hey, sorry I stared like a creep!"
Taking one last sip of her drink to build a little more courage, she got up and walked over to the bar, being careful to not crowd the Commander's space. She might only get one shot at this.
"I'll be damned," she said, then winced internally, regretting her earlier decision to drink. She liked to think she'd usually have more tact than that.
Commander Shepard didn't acknowledge her, but clearly heard her, judging by how she straightened and tightened her grip on her own drink. A quick glance at the amber liquid told Ryder that it was whiskey, neat, a personal favorite of the bartender. Maybe a favorite of the Commander too. She hoped she would get the chance to find out.
"Buzz off," the N7 replied.
A deserved response, though Ryder did the opposite: propping an elbow against the bar top, she leaned in a little closer and said, "You'll have to try harder than that, ma'am."
Commander Shepard let out an annoyed huff and turned to look at her. "Don't call me that. Not anymore," she said.
Ryder was not prepared for how those piercing green eyes seemed to steal her breath away. She'd seen them before in holos and vids, of course, but seeing them in person was completely different. It was no wonder that half the galaxy – half the Milky Way, she corrected herself – was willing to do anything she'd asked. It was tough to say no to someone who could so casually inspire awe in anyone who laid eyes on them. She took a moment to collect herself and put on the boldest grin she could muster.
"As you wish, Shepard."
She didn't miss the way Shepard's jaw tensed up. "If you think knowing who I am and being cute will get me into bed with you, you're mistaken."
That… wasn't what she'd expected the woman to say, and it definitely had an effect on her. Ryder's cheeks suddenly felt a bit warmer, and her stomach tumbled like a leaf in the breeze. A bark of laughter escaped her, which did nothing to quell the frustration on Shepard's face.
"Not here for that, promise. A… mutual friend of ours wanted me to check up on you, said they haven't heard from you since the uprising."
That, on the other hand, seemed to help. Shepard was quiet for a moment, expression thawing slightly, then said, "Tell Kesh I said hi. I'm doing fine. Hope things have settled down back there."
Ryder's reply was automatic. "If you come with me, you can tell her yourself."
Shepard cocked an eyebrow and trailed her eyes up and down Ryder, clearly appraising her with a tactical eye. Ryder had to fight the urge to shudder under the intensity of the woman's gaze. Shepard's eyes paused for a split second and narrowed in on her waist before resuming their examination. That pause made her acutely aware of her Sidewinder, which had been meticulously concealed under her jacket. She'd been sure it was invisible, yet the N7 detected it as easily as if she'd had x-ray vision.
"Sara Ryder, human pathfinder," she offered once Shepard's eyes met hers again.
"So the pathfinders aren't dead after all."
Ryder stood a little straighter, then replied, "I could say the same about you."
Shepard grunted and took another sip of her whiskey. "So, Ryder huh? One of Alec's kids? How's that grumpy old bastard doing these days?" She asked with a lopsided grin.
Ryder slumped and looked away. "Dead," she said, far more weakly than she'd wanted to.
She'd never gotten along with Dad, far from it, but losing him still hurt. It was just her and Scott now, and Scott was stuck in a coma. It left her feeling rudderless any time she thought about it, so she buried herself in her duties as a Pathfinder so she wouldn't have to. Any menial task was a welcome distraction.
The feeling of another hand capturing her own dragged her back to the present. She looked up again and saw the sympathetic look now adorning Shepard's face. Her focus was magnetically drawn to the woman's eyes.
"Shit. I'm sorry," Shepard said.
Absent-mindedly, Ryder began tracing her thumb in loose circles on the back of Shepard's hand. When her brain realized what she was doing, she sharply jerked her hand away in a fit of embarrassment.
"It's okay, you didn't know. Now you do," she managed to force out.
For a few moments, nothing was said between them. Then, Shepard motioned to the vacant stool on her left.
"So, pathfinder, what brings you out here?" Shepard asked as Ryder took a seat.
"I'm tempted to ask you the same thing. After everything that happened, Andromeda?"
A little of the warmth vanished from Shepard's features. "That's need-to-know," she said, "and right now, I'm afraid you don't."
It was Ryder's turn to grunt. "Fair enough. I'm here to offer you a job."
It felt wrong to be asking the hero of the Milky Way to come back to the Initiative, to take up arms again, to put her life on the line once more. But they were desperate. They needed every gun, every fighter they could get their hands on, and the former Commander was the most qualified person in the known universe. Bar none. Getting her back on their side would be a tremendous win… and it would be one that Ryder herself needed, too. Her morale had hit a lull; the Archon's trail wasn't getting any hotter, and the problems at each outpost kept piling up. If Shepard agreed to help, no matter the capacity, she could sleep a little easier at night.
"What kind of job?"
Ryder drew in a breath. "I've been building a team to help make the golden worlds habitable. That's why I'm here on Kadara. I can," she paused, "fix this place. The Initiative wants to build an outpost here and it's my job to make that happen. We're also taking the fight to the kett, not just waiting around for them to attack us anymore, and doing a damn good job at it. My ship has a bunk with your name on it, if you're interested."
When Shepard didn't respond, she added, "If you're not but you still want to help, I can pull some strings and get you anywhere you want to be."
Shepard sipped her drink again, a distant look briefly surfacing in her eyes. A blink, and it was gone. "Not a bad pitch," she said, "I'll join your crew on one condition."
Ryder leaned in. "Name it, and if it's something I can do, consider it done."
"Someone else has to be the big goddamn hero this time," the woman said with a grin.
In the handful of days since Shepard agreed to join the crew of the Tempest, she'd been impressed by how Ryder was handling everything. For someone with no officer training or leadership experience to speak of, she was doing well. True to her word, she'd activated the ancient vault down below Kadara's surface, and the planet's environment was already much more hospitable. As soon as that had been done, Ryder marched straight back to the Port and began negotiating with Sloane, helping people out however she could, and clearing out both kett and criminal gangs alike. She would have been a real asset during the war.
Things hadn't all gone according to plan, though. One of the high-stakes missions that she'd accompanied the Pathfinder on was to recover a bioweapon, an incurable virus that could infect all Milky Way species, that was at risk of falling into the hands of Angaran terrorists. In an attempt to get a sample of the virus off-world, one of the Roekaar – the terrorist organization in question – attempted to use the original carrier of the virus a hostage. Ryder wasn't open to negotiating though, and the hostage, a human woman named Ruth, had been executed in front of the entire squad. It happened in the blink of an eye, faster than even Shepard had anticipated.
Ryder put on a brave face for the rest of the team, and even held it under Shepard's scrutiny, but the N7 knew how deeply it had cut her. She'd been able to see it in the younger woman's body language. Heard it in the clipped tone her voice had taken on since returning to the Tempest.
It worried Shepard.
The pathfinder had sequestered herself in her cabin for most of the day, only coming out to get food or drink, or to visit the ship's doctor, Lexi T'Perro. An asari at the tail end of her maiden stage who, while clearly caring about the wellbeing of the crew, sorely lacked the personability that Shepard had become accustomed to after years of serving with Chakwas. Still, she supposed it was better that Ryder talk to someone than nobody at all. She just wasn't sure that T'Perro was the best choice.
She felt a responsibility to help the young woman, who had far too much on her shoulders already. If this had been an Alliance venture, there wouldn't be a lot that Shepard could do. Ryder technically outranked her, given Shepard's 'retirement' as well as the woman's status as the human pathfinder. However, the Initiative was a private enterprise, and the ship didn't have a formalized command structure. Ryder sat at the top of the mountain, naturally, but everyone was more or less equal outside of their unique responsibilities. It sounded simple but navigating those waters proved challenging for the career soldier.
That was why she'd been staking out the galley for the better part of half an hour now. It had been a few hours since the last time Ryder emerged from her hole, so she figured that the woman would at least need a refill of her drink some point soon. Shepard's 'plan', as it were, was to walk in shortly after and try to talk to her, that way she could gauge Ryder's state of mind and attempt to get through to her. If this had been her ship, she would have simply sought Ryder out directly, but her decade-plus in the Alliance conditioned her to respect the chain of command no matter how loose it may be. Hence this little song and dance.
A few more minutes ticked by with no sign of the young pathfinder. Then a couple more. Shepard glanced down at her omnitool and saw that it was now 00:38 ship time, and the possibility that Ryder had gone to sleep crossed her mind. She decided to wait a bit longer. Her patience paid off at 00:54, when the girl emerged from her quarters and ducked into the galley. Shepard mentally counted to thirty before following, that way it wouldn't be as obvious that she'd been waiting for this. Hopefully.
When she entered the kitchen, she saw Ryder hunched over the small table, face buried in the crook of her elbow. The woman glanced up when she heard the door open, then back down when her eyes had met Shepard's. An electric kettle sat nearby on the counter, blue display blinking in a steady rhythm. Shepard walked over to the table and slid into the seat next to Ryder, not stopping until she was mere inches away from the other woman.
"How are you holding up?" She asked. She already knew the answer, of course, but wanted to hear the girl say it in her own words. "Be honest," she added, softly.
"Not… great," Ryder replied, her words muffled as she spoke into the sleeve of her uniform.
Shepard let out a breath, then said, "You did everything you could down there. Sometimes innocent people get hurt, and sometimes the bad guy wins. You didn't let the bad guy win, though. You got the virus sample; you stopped terrorists from getting a potent bioweapon. Remember that."
Ryder made a keening sound that sent a dagger through the N7's insides. "I had SAM analyze the sample after we got back," she said, voice hollow, "it was far too degraded to be any use… I could have just let him go and walked out with Ruth."
"Ryder, listen to me," she paused until the other woman's gaze met hers, "You didn't know that at the time – you had to assume the worst, then act accordingly, which you did. As leaders, we have to make the best decisions we can with the information that's available to us. You did. I would have done the same thing."
Ryder quickly looked away. "Yeah," she said, barely more than a whisper.
Shepard raised a hand and placed it on Ryder's shoulder, then gently rubbed a couple of times. "Having innocent people die on your watch is one of the worst feelings imaginable, and it's one that I hoped you would never have to go through."
Ryder shifted, leaning a bit more into her touch, then asked, "How did you handle it?"
"Not well. Lots of alcohol and not a lot of sleeping. That went on for a while after Elysium, nearly got cat-sixed over it. Cleaned up in the N program. Then the Reapers hit… the sleep stopped again. Kept myself too busy to drink, to think, to even feel…" She squeezed Ryder's shoulder a little tighter. "Too much time for that nowadays," she said, more to herself.
When Ryder gave her a questioning look, she shook her head and added, "If you need someone to talk to, come find me. No problem too big or too small. I mean it."
Ryder smiled a small smile, so small it might not have been there at all. "Thanks," she replied, then pulled up her omnitool, "and likewise. These are the codes for my cabin. Any time you need to talk, or just want to hang, make yourself at home. My door's always open for you."
Shepard saw her omnitool light up at the corner of her vision and glanced down at it, then returned her attention to Ryder. "I appreciate it."
"I mean it," Ryder said, "you joining up means more to me– to us than you think, so I want to return the favor however I can. And… I know what you mean about staying too busy to think."
It was Shepard's turn to smile. "Friends don't owe friends anything."