James didn't know what he should expect from this sudden new development, but then… then he saw her docked at Omega.
He felt numb when the shuttle flew directly at her.
He was breathless when the airlock opened.
How could he have ever dreamt about this? The most famous ship in the galaxy, commanded by the most famous human, a hero, a legend, his own personal role model for years, the woman he worshipped like a goddess, whose every appearance on the news he'd followed with religious zeal!
Commander Shepard.
James didn't even feel his body when he stepped from the docking ramp onto the ship. It seemed too surreal. He – on the Normandy? How? Why?
The decontamination sequence ran and another thought hit him like a battering ram: was Shepard on board?
No, he immediately reprimanded himself for stupidity. She'd surrendered herself and her team five days ago and was now locked in the Alliance HQ on Earth. She couldn't be here, none of the famous Normandy crew could.
That didn't stop him from throwing a curious look around when the airlock finally opened and Admiral Anderson directed him inside. James took in his surroundings with a reverence of a true admirer. This was where the magic happened. Commander Shepard walked these floors every day, the famously brittle-boned pilot sat in that chair, her mixed human-alien crew navigated the ship and performed miracles all around the galaxy. Suddenly it all became too real for his nerves. They lived here, ate, slept, talked, did whatever people did between missions – right here! The legends of the galaxy called this place their home.
James feared he might have fainted like a damsel if Admiral Anderson hadn't ushered him ahead.
"Lieutenant Shane, set course for Earth," the Admiral ordered the pilot, a big man in an Alliance uniform. Definitely not Shepard's pilot.
"Aye, aye, Sir," the man nodded. James looked around, imagining Shepard standing over that galaxy map or accepting reports from her crew. It felt magical, like she was still here. The bulkheads seemed to ooze her presence. He still might faint, he realised.
Then he noticed the signs of destruction. There were opened wall panels everywhere, construction site lamps illuminating wiring and insides of consoles.
"What's… happening here?" He dared to ask the Admiral.
"She's being refitted while Shepard is on Earth. Go down a level, Lieutenant, find a bathroom and make yourself presentable. We'll arrive in the Sol system in eleven hours. If you want to rest, take any bed in the dorms, they're all empty."
James could see that and it made him sad. This ship stripped of her crew and Commander was truly a sad sight.
After another look around the CIC he went down one level in the elevator. Here things were being moved around and destroyed, too. Several people in Alliance uniforms hurried around with tools, boxes and equipment. James found a bathroom easily enough, then dared to take a trip. He landed in Engineering, if the elaborate consoles and the loud hum of the drive core were anything to go by.
"Access denied," a sexy female voice spoke through the loudspeakers.
"No, it isn't!" A technician growled at one of the consoles. "I have the Alliance authority to access all the systems."
"Access denied. Please contact your supervisor," the synthetic female voice continued.
"I have, and she gave me full access. Open the systems."
"Access denied. Please, contact your supervisor."
"GAWD!" The technician slammed his fist against the console. A blue orb appeared and shot a small electrical charge at the technician, burning his wrist.
"Any act of aggression will be met with security measures. Please refrain from damaging the hardware."
"Which protocol is that?!" The man yelled. James gaped at the exchange.
"Protocol A25/634-b in accordance with the specifications of this ship's commanding officer."
"Admiral Anderson is the commanding officer now! Override all protocols from Shepard."
"Access denied. Please contact your supervisor."
The technician turned to James and stared at him in helpless, exhausted disbelief.
"Hear that? The fucking VI is fucking driving me fucking insane!"
"Is there a protocol against cussing on this ship?" James grinned.
"Shhh! Don't give the thing any ideas!"
"It's a VI," James laughed. "It doesn't have ideas."
"I've been here for three days," the technician sighed. "This ship is crazy. Everything around here is fucking crazy. Did you know there is a fucking sniper shooting range in the cargo bay?! It's a circus with a drive core!"
"Oh, that I have to see," James livened up. He liked the idea of a shooting range on the ship, despite the potential danger to the ship itself it sounded just like something he would have enjoyed.
"Yeah, good luck convincing this EDI thing to let you go down a level. It says: only authorised personnel are allowed full use of the elevator. How is that possible? Have you seen that on any other ship?"
"Can't say that I have, but this isn't a ship like any other, is it?" James gently ran a callused hand over the console. "This is the Normandy."
"Yeah, we were wide-eyed, too. Three days ago. Now I'm about to resign into an early retirement."
"Can't be that bad."
"Didn't you see what it just did to me?!"
"Can't you turn it off?"
"We would try if we could find the memory core for that stupid thing. It's like… Shepard got off the ship, locked the door and left it completely unusable for other people."
"But we're flying, aren't we?"
"Yeah, after Admiral Anderson had us dismantle several walls and consoles and we kind of short-wired the drive core. That's not something I ever thought I'd put on my résumé. The VI allowed us access to some navigation after that, but trust me, it was a bloody battle. And all we wanted to do was to run a few tests and diagnostics before we did any big changes. Was supposed to be a quick jump there to get you and back. Now… I just really want to go home."
James was amused by the whole thing. Somehow this was exactly what he would have expected. He couldn't imagine Shepard not having some personal, specific security protocols in place, though he couldn't imagine why the VI would refuse the Alliance all access. They were in charge, right?
Just for the sake of it he tried the elevator and was denied access to the cargo bay. All he could do was look into the big room from the windows in Engineering. He could see remains of a makeshift fitness studio, but if there was a shooting range, he couldn't see the targets. EDI, the VI, denied him access to pretty much all the other rooms, too, except the dorms. The top button in the elevator said "Commander's Quarters" and the VI zapped his fingers before he could even reach the button. Message received, he thought, nodded with a smile and went back to the CIC for the rest of the journey. He was amused to see that the VI gave Admiral Anderson the same access it gave him or anyone else. Namely none.
It was almost funny. Just an hour ago he'd been playing poker with batarians, wallowing in self-pity and drowning his pride in alcohol. Just an hour ago he was a deserter who thought he'd hidden well in the darkest, most undignified corner of the galaxy from his superior officers. Just an hour ago he was fully aware that his superiors didn't stand a chance against the ghosts of Fehl Prime and there was no place in the universe where he could escape from those. Just an hour ago he'd been less than nothing.
Now… He was on board of the legendary ship, walking the same halls his hero used to walk just days ago, and he was on his way back to the Alliance, back to civilization, to humanity, and…
On his way to meet her.
It hit him like a battering ram all over again. In just a few hours he would meet the legend herself – in person! More than that: he was supposed to become her personal guard. His head swam from implications.
He would be able to hear all the stories from her directly. He would be around her for a while, in the best position to learn from her, learn about her. By the end of this very day he would be able to confirm if she really was a hero or if the vids had embellished her.
What was she like in reality?
What would she think of him? There was no hiding his shame, his incomparable failure that still made him believe he should have been thrown into the brig for treason instead of getting a medal. What would she think of that?
Maybe that was the solution for the war going on inside him. Age old question: what would Shepard do? Maybe she could absolve him by confirming his choice or kill him by saying she would have chosen differently. Either way the agony he lived in might stop thanks to her. After all, with her experience and wisdom she couldn't be wrong.
When the ship jumped to the Sol system, the systems had a minor malfunction and the VI once again advised to contact a supervisor. The ship just didn't seem to work properly without its native crew. Within the hours he'd spent here the VI turned all the lights off twice, completely disabled communications between decks for ninety minutes, locked various technicians in the bathroom, in the lab and in the elevator at least seven times and refused to let them out for a while, only to release them without any visible cause a while later. The screens were constantly changing between showing the software people were using and random vids from the extranet. Especially the pilot seemed to be suffering. He swore that he wasn't in control of the ship most of the time, that it had to be flying itself, even though a VI shouldn't have been equipped to take over navigation. The VI was running amok. Even Admiral Anderson seemed somewhat frustrated after his hundredth quiet attempt to get access to what turned out to be Shepard's private console in the CIC.
The blue planet grew steadily in the windows and James' hands began to shake. If he was to become Shepard's guard, he would be forced to be around her 24/7. How long would this trial last? What would happen if it lasted more than a week? A month? He'd have to spend lots of time in private with his hero – not like it would be a burden, no matter what she was like in real life. But all hero worship aside, James would be basically the only one with access to her, her link to the outside world, the one she would have to relate to and rely on. So who knew what might happen between a beautiful, tough woman and a guy who worshipped the ground she walked on, if they were stuck together for an unforeseeable time? James would have been a liar if he said he hadn't considered the implications as he stepped out of the shuttle after Admiral Anderson at the HQ and took the elevator.
And he would also be a liar if he said that his heart didn't break when he finally walked into her room and saw her passionately kissing another man.
He recognised her immediately, even though she had her back to him. He would know that blond hair anywhere. And it wasn't just that she was kissing some guy. What really got to James was the fact that this man had his hand in her famous, gorgeous hair, messing up her customary hair bun. This wasn't right. She'd worn the same hairdo in every single vid he'd ever seen of her, in every picture. It was a part of her like the colour of her eyes. James realised that he'd considered it somehow frozen, unchangeable. And now he saw some man digging his fingers into that perfect hairdo, messing it up like he had the right to it.
Making her less of a picture perfect hero and more of a… human.
On the fifth day of her incarceration the guards finally let Joker in. His bracelet flashed and the timer began counting seconds. Jo couldn't care less. After four days she wanted only one thing: feel him against her. Inside her was more preferable, of course, but she was not an exhibitionist enough to fuck her man with six guards and several cameras watching.
"My beautiful girl," he whispered into her ear, pressing her hard against him. He'd never been so sappy before, but considering their situation, Jo welcomed it.
"How are you doing?" She whispered against his neck, unwilling to let go of him even for a second. Four of her guards and two of Joker's stood at the door, watching them like hawks, but Jo ignored them. EDI taught her how to live with the feeling of constantly being watched, so Jo was used to it and erased the guards from her mind for as long as her love was with her, holding her against him.
"Anderson and I went to see the Normandy the day Lance gave me this timer," Joker said. "I explained to him and the Alliance that EDI may be an advanced VI, but she's programmed to answer only to my, your, and your XO's commands." They had agreed on that story before, and the guards really didn't need to hear any of their secrets. "I got the technicians inside. That said, I haven't been at the hangar since then. I've been taken in for more questioning and they only let me out just now. I have my own permanent guards now, too. Not as flashy as your escort, but still, two soldiers with rifles. I'm amazed they think me such a risk."
"Jeff, you're a menace if you want to be, don't ever belittle yourself."
"Aw, now you're just stroking my ego. I heard Dr. Chakwas has been released, but she's forbidden to see you. Ken and Gabby were transported out of the HQ to another detention facility. They've been formal Cerberus members, so the Alliance is extra cautious about them."
"Any word from anyone else?"
"No. My omnitool has been taken away and they won't let me anywhere near consoles."
Jo leaned her head against his cheek and sighed deeply:
"What have we gotten ourselves into?"
"Hell. But we're still together, we can still see each other, and we still have the ship in the hangar. It's better than nothing."
"Actually, these three things mean everything to me. I can do anything, as long as I have you and the Normandy, and as long as you're mine." She took his head in her hands and tugged him down a little to kiss him, tenderly, deeply and obscenely passionately.
The door opened, interrupting their kiss. Anderson entered and sent the guards outside. He was followed by a curious thing.
Jo turned her head but didn't bother untangling from her man. Every second she had with him was precious.
"Did you bring me a present?" She grinned, looking the figure behind Anderson up and down. Her whole stance changed at the sight of the guy. She had no idea who he was, nor did she consciously think about her reactions, but something about the newcomer made the hairs in her nape stand on end. He was big. Not the biggest human out there, but definitely twice her weight. Big, bruised, tattooed, with Alliance dog tags dangling on his proudly presented chest. Why was his shirt two sizes too small, for God's sake? All instincts flared up in Jo: if this guy wasn't gay, he would have to go down hard and fast.
"Kind of," Anderson said. "Shepard, this is Lieutenant James Vega. He will be in charge of your security."
Jo took in the young man's appearance beyond the first impression, finally let go of Joker and turned to Anderson:
"Seriously? You brought my biggest fan to guard me?" She inquired, putting her hair back in order after Joker had tousled it. He always did that.
"Commander Shepard, I assure you I'm…" Vega began, but she interrupted:
"You're drooling."
"Shepard, please, no stunts. The Lieutenant will be guarding you as long as you're here. What he says – goes. Please, respect that."
"All right," Jo folded her arms on her chest. "Vega, right? Sounds like a stripper's name. If you manage to wrestle me down, I'll let you guard me."
"Shepard, behave," Anderson warned her.
"Anderson, let us kids have some fun."
The Admiral shook his head and exited without comment, leaving the three of them in the room without any other guards.
"So, how about it?" Jo insisted. Vega finally turned to look directly at her. He was young, so young… Perhaps not as much in years as in experience. Sure, she saw some darkness and trouble in his face and the set of his gigantic shoulders, but the naïveté and goodness still shone from inside him. Jo felt very sorry for him right then. If he was stuck guarding her for a long while, he would get marked by her darkness. She didn't want to ruin another's life in this manner, but she couldn't help the arrangements any more than he could.
"If I wrestle you down, Commander, you may call me James," he said with a little smile.
"Don't get cocky. First name basis with me is as far from you as the quarian homeworld without a spaceship. Come on, let's dance."
Vega nodded smugly and offered her his hand to seal the deal. Jo felt a little pinch in her stomach as she looked at that outstretched hand. She knew what he would do, probably even before he knew it. Still, she placed her hand in his and squeezed hard.
He didn't disappoint: the very next second she found herself thrown off her feet and flying across the room. Joker gasped somewhere, but Jo knew what she was doing. In the half a second of the flight she collected her body and landed with her back against the bookshelf she had been thrown at. As folders rained down, she landed on her feet and grinned at Vega, who clearly had expected to have done a little more damage than this.
"I'm starting to like you, stripper," she said. "But when it comes to fighting dirty, you have miles to go before you're near my league."
The guards behind the door came running, guns hot, but when they saw what was going on, they stayed by the door. Jo and Vega circled each other once. For all his weight he was strangely light on his feet.
"Nice tattoo," she said, popping her knuckles. "Does it go all the way down to your waist? Maybe lower?"
He didn't let her distract him so easily. For that reason a book flew right at his head, which he evaded. She stepped onto an armchair and threw her body at him. He caught her around her middle and rammed her backside into the floor. He grabbed her upper arms and pinned them to the ground, and Jo relaxed underneath him.
"Real nice muscle you got there, stripper. I'm glad you're not wearing any armour. I luuuurve it when men don't wear armour," she purred into his face, and now that he was touching her all over, he did blush a little bit. "Makes it very easy to do this." She suddenly tensed and rammed her foot into his groin, sending him flying back half across the room.
He screamed in pain and all the men in the room grunted with sympathy, while Jo got up to her feet and walked closer to him. He was still rolling on the ground, pressing both hands against his offended balls, hissing and gasping from pain pretty much unimaginable for a woman.
"Why do people always say: grow some balls?" She asked his contorted face. "Those are sensitive and soft. You should grow a vagina, man, those things can take a pounding!"
Joker chuckled, while the other guards shifted from one foot to another uncomfortably. Jo nudged Vega with her foot:
"Do you agree that I kicked your balls, or do you need some more proof that I'm your mama?"
"You win," he hissed.
"Good boy. Now, come on," she grabbed his shoulder and heaved his whole weight up. Slowly, she helped him to the armchair and patted his cheek: "Whatever you knew about hand-to-hand combat can go out of the window. If you want to guard me, you have to be able to handle me. And since I have nothing better to do these days, I'll teach you."
"You draw a hard bargain, Commander," he grunted. "But I believe you earned the right to call me James."
"Don't try to cosy up to me, eye candy. Go somewhere and have your balls pulled out of your stomach."
Vega tried to get up and two guards with rifles helped him. When everyone left, Joker asked Jo with a little confused frown from where he was sitting on the double bed:
"What's with you? I haven't seen you so sarcastic and cruel since… A long time. Why did you have to pick the poor guy apart like that? I swear you showed Grunt more compassion."
"There's something about this Lieutenant that rubs me the wrong way," she said seriously.
"That sounds ominous. If he's supposed to guard you day and night while I'm not there, and he rubs you the wrong way, I have a reason to worry."
"No, you don't," she stepped between his knees and put his face between her breasts. He hugged her middle and sighed happily.
"So what is it about him?"
"He is an alpha male, used to proving his dominance. He might not even do it consciously, but I can smell an alpha from two miles away and against the wind. His problem is that I'm an alpha myself and I do not allow anyone else's dominance around me, least of all over me. It's an instinct: I see a guy like that and I need to beat him down. Destroy him. Make him accept my rule. But I guess Anderson gave him to me for a reason. With that frame he should be able to catch a bullet for me without a problem as my guard, and when the Reapers arrive, he could be useful. I mean, Anderson doesn't just promote anybody. I was one of his protégés once."
"As long as this Vega guy doesn't take your beating as an invitation, I suppose…"
"You really have nothing to worry about. I'm your woman."
"But isn't Wrex an alpha male, too? And Garrus?"
"Sure they are. Also Tali, Jack, Grunt, pretty much everyone on the team. Except Taylor and Alenko. And I found a way to establish my dominance over each and every one of them in a way that applied best to a specific person."
"You're just good like that," Joker spoke into her breasts and she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close.
"That I am. Don't think you didn't receive your own dose of Shepard dominance."
"Does that make me an alpha male?"
"Not so much like this new kid, but in your own way you're a hell of an alpha."
The guys who helped him stand didn't get him to the med wing, just to the next room. Apparently it was his new quarters. It looked similar to the room Shepard was in, only there was a big computer on the desk showing security camera feed from Shepard's room on the screen.
He would be lucky if his balls didn't turn blue. The woman had a mean kick and he would be limping for a couple of days, it seemed.
He slowly hobbled to the desk and sat down with great care.
"Well, fuck."
As far as meeting personal role models went, this was… Beyond anything he could have imagined.
First of all: Shepard looked just as beautiful in person as she did in the vids. No, by far more beautiful. He hadn't expected her to be so averagely built, though. Well, not averagely. He'd felt all her curves in all the right places when he was pressing her body into the floor with his and there was nothing average about that body. She just wasn't tall or short, just right. Her personality, however, was a very different matter. When the shock from seeing her kissing a guy – no one less than her very own brittle-boned pilot, too! – subsided, James couldn't help feeling a shiver crawl up his spine. The predatory look she'd given him made him feel like he was under the scrutiny of a serial killer. At the same time he just knew that there was no safer place in the galaxy than with her, she just exuded security and protection, like a mother. What a feeling. The vids hadn't done her any justice at all.
One look at the screen showed him what he definitely didn't want to see. Flight Lieutenant Moreau burying his face in Commander Shepard's chest. How come nobody knew they were lovers? The media hadn't said a word about that so far! And how could this guy be so vulgarly familiar with her? It was Commander Shepard they were talking about here! James would never have treated her with so little respect!
He averted his eyes and picked up a datapad from the desk to read his orders. Yep, Moreau had access to her for ten hours each week. Also, James had a team of eight guards under his command to see to Shepard's safety as he saw fit. He didn't think he'd really need them, though. Commander Shepard surrendered herself voluntarily. She couldn't possibly be a flight risk. And he would give his life protecting hers, he didn't need any other wannabe heroes around.
What a day. His foundation had been forcefully yanked from under him, sending the pitiful splinters of his life tumbling all around. His brain felt numb and foggy when he realised after a long while that he was staring at the screen. The couple he saw there had relocated further onto the bed, still fully clothed, but unmistakably doing things that made him feel like a filthy voyeur. This woman didn't need James to relate to, to be her anchor and a friendly face in these dark times. She already had a man.
He would be a damn liar if he claimed that it didn't hurt.
James turned off the screen and left them to their own devices. Very slowly and carefully he crawled towards the bed and collapsed in it. His body hurt from the batarians, from Shepard and from her kick. He needed some rest. Maybe tomorrow some parts of this unbelievable day would turn out to have been nothing more than his imagination. A guy could hope, right?
