Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect….blah, blah, blah (you've all heard this before). Original characters are of my own creation. A huge 'thank you' out to everyone who has read and reviewed this story! I mean it when I say it is very much appreciated!

Here we go, folks! Enjoy this latest chapter – and the beautiful angst it contains!

Chapter Eighteen

"There is no intensity of love or feeling that does not involve the risk of crippling hurt…" – William S. Burroughs

Shepard was present, but he wasn't there.

Not really.

As Miranda, Jacob, and Garrus bickered back and forth, he sat quietly in the corner of the comm room.

Slumped in his chair, his gaze distant, Shepard was far too lost in his own thoughts to listen to what they were saying.

Even now, hours later, he was in disbelief.

He wished it would all go away.

But as he squeezed his eyes tightly closed, the details were just as real, just as crisp.

And he knew there was no way it would go away.

When he'd left Eira and boarded the shuttle for Alchera, he immediately felt like scum. There hadn't been any reason to be so cruel and yet the words had left him without hesitation. It was all he thought about during the shuttle ride and once the shuttle door opened, painful memories rushed back and hit him square in the chest.

He'd looked upon the ruins of the first Normandy and seen echoes of his old life, flashes of all he'd lost. With every set of dog tags he found, the pain in his chest grew as those memories returned. He saw images of Presley, of Ashley in the loading bay, Kaidan in the mess…

It felt as though he was reliving the life he lived before his death.

And when he found his old N7 helmet…

Shepard let out a shaky sigh.

He remembered it all.

The Normandy exploded and he was jettisoned into the vast emptiness of space. There was a moment of shock, followed in quick succession by crippling panic as his hardsuit sensors screamed their warnings.

There was a suit puncture.

He'd twisted and thrashed, trying to reach the hose that connected to his helmet but as much as he tried there was no stopping it. Wide eyed and terrified, he had looked down on the planet below and known then it would be his grave.

The tightening in his chest overrode all else. He felt himself gasping desperately for breath that would not come as tears streaked down his face.

Shepard gasped, clutching his chest, and his gaze shot upward to his comrades. They were still arguing. Miranda was pushing for Eira to be sent back to the Illusive Man, Garrus defending her and Jacob trying without success to calm the two of them.

Shepard knew he should intervene.

But he couldn't bring himself to stand let alone enter the fray.

Returning to his thoughts, Shepard found himself on his knees in the snow again, clutching his old helmet in his hands. He never thought he'd find it, ever expected to find evidence of his death on the planet. It had been so much more convenient to believe he had gone from space to the station where Miranda's team had rebuilt him. The in-between, the state of limbo he'd been in, hadn't crossed his mind before.

And now it was so clear, so precise it was cruel.

That Eira had found him like that, dazed and mute in the snow, made him sick. But it was the fact that he'd been relieved to see her shamed him.

Through the wind and snow and horror that bombarded him…it had been seeing her and feeling her touch him, knowing he wasn't seeing things, that had given him hope it would end.

A shudder rippled through him as he recalled his behavior on the shuttle ride back to the Normandy.

Weak.

He'd been so damned weak.

And he hated himself for it; hated himself for how good it had felt when she'd held him. Her voice, her reassurances, had calmed him like he hadn't thought possible.

You're alive, Shepard. You're right here, in my arms, alive…

And he had been.

She'd calmed him when he'd truly thought he was losing his mind. He didn't want the shuttle to arrive, didn't want to let her go. Holding her…it shouldn't have affected him so profoundly.

Dread settled in his stomach as he realized that he couldn't just shrug off what he felt for her as lust.

It was…more complicated.

And Eira was a complication he couldn't afford.

The frayed threads that held together the farce he was living only weakened with her. He felt naked and exposed, nothing at all like the man he needed to be to accomplish the herculean task set before him.

"She needs to face the consequences of her actions!"

Shepard's gaze snapped upward and he saw Miranda standing before him, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

"Shepard," she insisted, her irritation evident in her voice, "Eira needs to know the consequences of disobeying a direct order. We need to set an example to the crew."

"That's insane and you know it," Garrus interjected, "she only did what we all wanted to! It might have been an order but it was a damned stupid one!"

Miranda sighed heavily, "If we let her go without punishment it sets a bad precedent."

"She helped the commander," Jacob said, "whether she did it by the book or not doesn't really matter as far as I'm concerned."

"And that's why you're not in charge," Miranda scoffed, crossing her arms.

"No, but you're not either," Jacob reminded her, "Shepard is."

Shepard raised his hands, bidding them all to stop speaking.

He sighed as he stood, "I'll deal with it."

He slipped past them, ignoring Miranda's attempts to press him for detail, and left the comm room.

As he headed for the lift, he wondered what exactly he was going to do.

What he wanted he couldn't do. Eira was a weakness and he had enough of those that he couldn't afford another, not when that attachment jeopardized his mission.

Sending her back to the Illusive Man wasn't an option either.

Regardless of Eira's willingness to accept it, she'd been used and imprisoned by Cerberus. Shepard was certain of that, though the details were still obscure.

He wasn't going to hand her back to her tormenter.

As the lift stilled and the door hissed open on the cargo level, Shepard knew what he had to do.

But that didn't make the thought of doing it any more appealing.

Her lodgings in the starboard cargo hold were a bit cramped, but otherwise comfortable. The crew had dragged in a small cot and provided her with blankets, books, and what few possessions she had.

Considering she was now a prisoner, it was more than she could have asked for.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she fumbled with the bracelet on her wrist, thinking back fondly to the day on the Citadel when he'd bought it for her.

She didn't regret it, not in the slightest; despite her current situation.

The door to her cell hissed open and Eira jumped to her feet, startled by the intrusion and fully expecting Miranda and armed Cerberus soldiers to greet her.

Instead, it was him.

"Commander…"

She noticed immediately that something was wrong. He looked uncomfortable, tense, as if he was pained.

"Are you all right?" Eira asked gently.

He took a deep breath and his gaze rose, meeting hers with a bizarre intensity.

He seemed distant and detached. The color had yet to return to his face and he looked pale and worn; as if he'd not slept since returning from Alchera.

And maybe he hasn't, she thought sadly.

Shepard cleared his throat.

"Miranda thinks I should send you back to the Illusive Man."

Eira nodded. She was saddened but not surprised.

"And what do you think?" Eira asked quietly, unable to bring her voice above a whisper.

"I think you need to stop," Shepard said coldly, his voice harsh.

Caught off guard and unsure what he could possibly mean, Eira stammered as she sought an explanation.

"I-I really don't understand, Shepard."

"That's 'Commander'," he corrected, "and you need to stop – right now. No more glances –

"Glances?"

Confused and nervous, the interruption had left her before she had the awareness to stop herself.

"At me," he clarified in an emotionless voice, "I'm not blind, Eira."

Understanding hit her suddenly. Eira felt her face flare red with embarrassment and her heart sink simultaneously. Being trapped in the room with him, under the heat of his icy gaze, Eira wanted nothing more than to run. She felt small and had to bit her lip to quell its quivering.

Shepard sighed, "No more, Eira. No more shitty meals and poking your nose into my business."

If it were possible, his words made her feel even smaller.

"I'm tired of bumping into you every time I turn around."

Eira winced, his words paining her.

There was so much she wanted to say, so much she had to explain but didn't know where to begin.

"I-I'm –

"For fuck's sake," he said in quiet awe, "you're a damn kid."

As much as she tried, Eira couldn't stop the tears from welling up in her eyes.

"What did you think?"

"I…just wanted to help," Eira said in a whisper, her chin quivering.

Shepard gave an exasperated sigh.

"Just…leave me alone."

She looked up at him, "You…want me to leave?"

The mere thought of leaving terrified her. Where would she go? Back to Cerberus and a lonely life on a distant space station?

The thought of that didn't sit well with her.

She didn't want to leave her new friends. She'd done and seen so much since Nafna and as much as the vast expanse of the galaxy scared her, she wanted the chance to see more of it. Whatever she could do to help she wanted to. Whatever she needed to do to prove her worth, she would.

And, despite his cruel words, she didn't want to leave him.

The Shepard standing before her now wasn't the same one she'd known, nor the one she'd comforted on the shuttle after Alchera. As hopeless as she knew her infatuation to be, she had no idea where his cruelty was coming from or why she deserved it.

Had she really annoyed him so terribly?

Shepard just looked at her, offering her no answer save silence.

"I…I don't know what you want me to do," Eira finally said, her voice shaky and quiet, "I-I only wanted to help you."

"Follow orders," Shepard said evenly, his voice as detached as his gaze, "and stop hounding me. Get over your stupid, childish crush and do your damn job. I've got more important things to concern myself with."

Tears now streaked freely down her cheeks.

"All right," she managed weakly.

"We're understood?"

Eira brushed aside her tears and nodded, "Perfectly, commander."

Shepard seemed relieved.

He made to leave, "You're free to return to your quarters."

"I'd like to stay here," she said quickly.

Shepard stopped and eyed her curiously, "You want to take this cargo hold as your quarters?"

Eira nodded, "If it's all right with you, commander."

He scanned the room.

"It's cramped."

"It's fine," she insisted.

Sighing, Shepard nodded.

"I'll let Kasumi know the lounge is all hers now then."

"Thank you."

Shepard just looked at her.

"If there's nothing else you'd like to advise me of, commander, I'd like to be alone right now," Eira murmured, voice wrought with barely contained emotion.

He stared at her and there was an agonising stretch of silence between them before he finally nodded and left the room.

He'd only just left her, the door had closed behind him and he'd taken no more than four steps, when he heard her heartbreaking sobs.

He stopped in his tracks and listened.

The urge to go back in and plead for forgiveness was intense and he struggled silently for some time before continuing down the corridor toward the lift.

Despite knowing he'd done the right thing in pushing her away, he hated himself for it. Eira had been nothing but kind to him. As foolish as her affections were, she was genuine and sweet-natured. Safe. Having her near was…calming. And had she not been there on Alchera…

He knew he'd have stayed there in the snow until he froze or lost his mind. She'd pulled him away from that whether she knew it or not.

And he'd just repaid that kindness with cruelty.

Shepard clenched his fists until his knuckles went white. He hurried into the lift and when the door closed, let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Hating himself, Shepard tried telling himself again and again that it was the right thing to do, that someday Eira might understand.

But he couldn't shake the image of her; chin quivering as she fought back tears and big eyes full of hurt, from his mind.

Suddenly very eager for a drink, Shepard headed for his cabin.

Tomorrow they'd get back on course and he could pretend the events on Alchera never happened. He could pretend he was the commander the crew of the Normandy thought they had leading them and that he had a clue what he was doing.

Eira would be better then, he told himself, and they'd pretend everything was simple between them.

I only wanted to help you…

He tried telling himself that whatever doubts he had would be made clear in the morning, when he saw Eira.

But he didn't see her in the morning; he didn't see her all day.

Or the day after that.