"Maj- Spec-" The boy with the unfortunate job of trying to stop him was having trouble with his title. "You cannot just barge-"

He barged into Hackett's office, and the man rubbed a hand over his face, elbows resting on the table, as though he were very tired. "What is this?"

Suddenly, Kaidan wasn't sure what he was doing anymore. "You're stopping the Citadel's search." An assertion, uttered in an even voice.

"Yes."

"It's-"

"It's diverting valuable resources away from places that very much need it. The galaxy is in shambles. It's been hours. There's nothing to find in those ruins."

Kaidan's fist clenched and tightened. "Hours aren't enough to-"

Hackett held up an authoritative hand. "Let me stop you, and give you a chance to leave without remark. You're not the first person to take issue with this decision. You are, however, the only one who decided to actually show up in person."

"And?" His teeth were clenched so tight he was almost surprised to hear the word come out of his mouth.

"And nothing, Major Alenko. Commander Shepard did what she had to do-"

Hackett was not used to being interrupted, but the sudden fury flaring in Kaidan's eyes gave him pause. "She'd done enough! More than enough! How can you possibly-"

"Everyone had done enough!" the admiral finally snapped, voice rising to a shout. "Everyone went through things no one deserves! How is that relevant to the problem at hand?"

"Are you comparing anything, anything, to what she did?!"

Something seemed to click for the admiral, and he suddenly deflated, looking at him with incredible sadness. Kaidan stiffened. "Son," he began quietly. "I know you're grieving. I suspect for more than most people know. But you can't work through it by trying to find something to blame. Because the truth is, everyone pays their price in a war. Including her. Including, as I'm sure you're painfully aware, you."

"She didn't pay hers," Kaidan retorted coldly. "She paid everyone's."

"Major-"

"You believed her. Have you ever thought how different things could be if the council had too?"

"I think a lot of things, young man. But the past is not one of them. Dwelling on what-ifs will break you more than this. Trust me. You need to pick up the pieces and see what you can stitch together. Because you've got the rest of your life ahead of you, thanks to her. It'd be a poor form of thanks to waste it on what wasn't and can never be."

Kaidan stared at him for a long time. "Shit," he swore softly, turning away.

"Yeah. I know." The admiral brushed past him, intending to give him some punctual privacy, but hesitated at the door. "I'm not going to let anyone forget. What she did, what could have been done, who she was. If I can offer anything, I'll offer you that promise."

"Thanks." It didn't sound very sincere. "Me neither."

"You're a good man, and a good soldier. Regroup. You'll be fine. Just fine."


Garrus had once asked Kaidan what it felt like to be the object of the galaxy superhero's affections, in less eloquent phrasing, when they were both very drunk on alcohol and on complex feelings not out of place in the middle of a hopeless war.

He'd replied a little without thinking, a thousand miles away.

"It feels like a shooting star you've been wishing on suddenly got too close, as though it actually paid attention to you. It feels like you shouldn't stare too much and it feels like she should have moved on by now, and like I'm the luckiest and most selfish person in the world for keeping it close. And it's terrifying to know you're just waiting around to watch her crash and burn heroically like the legend she is."

Garrus had not asked any follow-ups.

Kaidan thought about his unexpected drunken clarity a lot, when he woke up from nightmares, whether she was lying next to him or already in the middle of the ship's morning bustle. Whatever the dream had been about, the reason he woke up with his heart in his throat was always the same, the terror he'd revealed to his turian friend – the idea that the reason he loved her, the reason he was in awe of her, was the reason he was going to lose her.

Like the memory of meeting Hackett right after she died, again, light-years away from him, again, gave herself up for the galaxy because she was the best thing it had to offer. He needed to keep things in perspective, focus on the reward instead of the risk, the way she did every day.

So later, when he was sober but somehow a little drunker, holding a shooting star, he murmured it into her skin, wherever his lips could reach, made promises he wasn't sure he'd have the chance to keep, asked things from her he had no right to ask, and all she could do was tell him she loved him. He didn't know if it was enough, but he told her what he was fighting for and ordered her to come back, she did the same, and it had to be enough.

It was a hell of a thing, to find something so precious just as the galaxy started to collapse around him. She was a treasure completely out of place in the rubble. It might be sacrilegious to steal the only piece of beauty out of such a bleak picture.

He didn't care. He'd lost her enough, no matter the consequences – Nihlus' opinion had been pretty clear and a small taste of a broader problem they were sure to encounter often. Every time he prioritized something other than her – every time – he didn't end up liking his life afterwards. And maybe everyone else would tell him that was the problem – that sometimes the cure would hurt, that it was the point, to an extent.

Kaidan wouldn't know. It was too late for him to try and use a clear head about it. It probably had always been. So, heedless of anyone else, he waited for her to finish her heart-to-heart with the turian Spectre and then found her in her quarters.

"You know, I used to think I'd never put the gun down," Shepard mused as Kaidan walked in slowly. She was contemplating her sniper rifle. "I was gonna go down with the last bullet in the battlefield."

"Sounds like you," he replied evenly, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

She put down the gun. "I said it to Anderson once. He said the same thing. But then he laughed. He said the day I would know to retire would be the day I knew I'd just walked out of a fight I should have lost."

He frowned. "You thought we'd lose the war?"

She shook her head. "No. I don't fight to lose, that's not what I meant. I just didn't really believe I was going to walk out of it- you know, walking." She snorted. "Technically, I didn't."

Are we gonna make it, Kaidan?

Hope and a fighting chance.

Those reapers better watch themselves.

The memory of the smile she'd given him made him frown. "You never told me that's how you felt. All you did was encourage the rest of us." He hesitated, unhappy. "I wish you'd trust me when you're scared."

"I wasn't scared," she denied immediately. "It - well, facts of life and all. This was everyone's war, but - it's always felt a little like my battle. And I'd be damned to let anyone else finish it."

He sighed. "Shepard."

"I know. I'm sorry. And I'm here."

"I know." He reached for her hand and she came over to rest her head on his chest instead. His hand found the small of her back and she closed her eyes.

"I don't feel like that anymore," she mumbled, probably sensing something he was struggling to say. "I want-" She stuttered and quieted, thinking. "You're not the only one counting chances."

"So let's not count another one. I love you." Because he didn't say it enough and it had almost become one of his biggest regrets too many times.

"I love you too."

A little while later, his head had found its way to her lap – she was tempting him into leaving it there forever so she'd never stop running her fingers through his hair. It took a few minutes of pensive silence before she finally voiced what it was that had been on her mind when she'd brought up retirement.

"I never thought I could, but right now I want to."

He opened his eyes to find hers staring at somewhere far away.

"Retire?"

"Yeah. When we're done, anyway."

He shifted somewhat, more to get her to look at him than to have her stop her ministrations.

"And what would retirement look like for Commander Shepard?"

"I don't know, but whatever it is, when this is over, I better just have to ask and see it dropped off on my doorstep."

He grinned. "Anderson would make you work for it, though."

She laughed. "I would too."

"Hell of a good man. Galaxy's a better place for him," Kaidan said, interpreting the look on her face correctly. "He's sticking around this time. Retiring with that Grissom teacher."

"Damn right."

They both fell silent, remembering for a minute.

"So – what you were saying – about retiring-?" he prodded gently.

Shepard shrugged. "Was that not the fight I should have lost?"

"It was definitely one of them. At this point, it's less that you're a statistical anomaly and more that any statistics made about you are just plain wrong."

She hummed. "I think the difference is this time, I don't feel that there are still more fights that only I can handle, when this one is done."

"Ah. Lacking purpose?"

"I don't think so. There's always something."

"True. And considering your way with words, I bet if you wanted a fake job, you could just start gobbling up diplomats on your way to world domination."

She laughed. "That does sound like a retirement plan."

"So, I'm guessing you'd take the Normandy? You'd need a command post after all."

"Honestly, whatever my plans will be, I'd like to see the Alliance actually try to take back my ship."

Kaidan smirked. "Point taken."

She turned serious. "To be honest, I don't know what I'll do. Not entirely clear on what I want either." He caught her eye. "Well, some things are clear," she amended. He kissed the hand laying on his chest and then left them linked. "But – a girl never really knows with these things. You shoot too many bullets, survive too many years, kill too many things, and ideas change."

She'd looked away again.

"Shepard, you don't have to decide anything right this minute. Or ever, frankly. All you have to do is wake up each morning and ask yourself what you want to do with your day. You've earned that, even if it doesn't last forever. And mostly you need to give yourself time to recover. I don't mean physically." She looked uncomfortable and he squeezed her hand as a reminder, which worked. "And I'm not going anywhere."

She ran her fingernails over his stubble, lightly. He closed his eyes again. He'd never felt so warm.

"And what if retirement bores you?"

"I'm an old soldier same as you, Shepard. I could use some peace and quiet." Who would reject living the rest of their life like this?

"And when you could use it a little less?"

"That'll come about right around when you get bored too. Trouble finds you anywhere, you know."

"So you think what I want isn't retirement, just a long vacation."

"I think you've earned some respite. And I'll be with you for it. And as long as you'll have me."

"Well, then, we better both walk out of this alive."

His hand tightened on hers. "We will. We will." The strength of his conviction was borrowed from hers, even if she didn't realize it. "If you did it once, you can do it again. Without – without sacrificing yourself this time."

She brushed her lips across his knuckles, a faraway look in her eyes.

"Yeah. We can do it." She paused. "I'm over thinking."

"You always do. You've had to."

"And after this I can stop."

"Just until you get bored," he said, smiling.

Her lips twitched, and she leaned down to give him a kiss he felt right down to his toes, so he forgot most things for a minute. "Sounds like me."

He ran his hand through her cheek, where it had found itself without him noticing. "Retirement, vacation - what it is, what you want - you have time to figure it out. And you've earned anything you want by now," he reiterated.

She shifted, and he was about to protest that she'd taken her hands out of his scalp when he realized she was straddling him. He became distracted.

"I'm about to hold you to that."

Kaidan laughed and pulled her down. "I'm not about to protest." Shepard kissed him halfway through a grin.


Kaidan took a bit longer after that to mull over why Shepard had had this line of thinking in her mind. He figured it might have something to do with her conversation with Nihlus – the turian was even more absent than usual, and a lot more silently pensive when he was around. Shepard was a little more absent-minded too – but since they were just running a couple of errands for the Alliance and the Council on their way to Noveria that day, nobody else seemed too concerned.

After recovering some asari writings from Veles, he returned to the ship to find her on the bridge alone, leaning against the wall and staring at the stars, lost in thought. Joker was probably napping somewhere. Quietly, he leaned against the opposite wall. Shepard glanced over warmly as acknowledgement of his presence.

"You know, you've sure made a lot of new colorful friends while running around without me," he began out of nowhere, in an effort to root out what it was that was bothering her. He was suspecting it, but still.

She let a grin show. "So, it's more than official, absolutely nothing changed when Cerberus got a hold of me."

Kaidan laughed. "Nope." He shifted on his side to consider her as she straightened. "You alright?"

"Fine," she answered automatically.

He ignored that. "You know, before this whole thing," he gestured vaguely around them and it was probably enough, "we ran into a lot of those – unique characters. I never really got a chance to talk about them in detail."

She arched a curious eyebrow at him. "Well, there's time now, I suppose. Where did this sudden interest come from, though?"

He hesitated. "Call it a hunch, but – I think you've been thinking about them too. Your talk with Nihlus bring up some memories?"

Shepard looked away. "Yeah, well, he knew where to look." She shook her head. "So, you curious about anyone in particular?"

He actually was, so he took a couple of seconds to think about it. "You know, that asari - uh – Justicar? How did you meet Samara?"

Shepard shrugged. "I told you, I ran into her on Illium when she was hunting her daughter."

"All her daughters have that- condition?" he asked, momentarily distracted.

"Yeah. She's had a hard life." She sighed.

Kaidan suddenly understood something. "Oh," he winced. "So… what happened to that daughter she was hunting?" he said cautiously, more for the sake of confirmation than information.

Shepard grimaced and before he had the time to retract his question, she began talking. "Justicars are very dutiful. Killing herself the day you met her would almost have been outside that duty. It was her way of getting out of both abiding it and of violating it."

"But – her first daughter -?"

"She killed her. She wasn't like the ones you met that day. She didn't want to be a prisoner."

"Damn."

"Her daughter almost got the upper hand too. She'd have killed Samara if I hadn't been there."

There was a short silence.

"So you think Samara let that happen by accident or did she falter because it was her daughter?" Kaidan asked softly.

"I think Samara believes she doesn't falter."

"She did kill her."

"She did. And she also would have killed herself to save her last daughter."

"If it wasn't for you."

"Two cheers for me, then. One for each of my friend's dead kids."

This wasn't the road he'd wanted to take. "Hey," he said, standing and reaching for her hand; she held on tightly, "what's bothering you so much?"

"I don't-"

"I can tell. I know that wasn't exactly a happy event for your friend's family, but it doesn't have to happen the same way this time. There's something else."

Shepard pursed her lips for a second, staring at their hands. "I'm just - it keeps piling up. I'm as tired of making hard choices as I am of watching other people make them. There's always a conflict somewhere. I'm worried about what we have to do, if we can do it. And when it stops."

Her admission made him wince. "That's why you've been thinking about the day you get to leave it behind."

"Well – not behind, just-"

"Letting the ghosts rest proper?"

"Maybe."

He squeezed her hand. "Your choices do a lot of good. Save a lot of people."

"I know. I don't - exactly wish them on someone else, but-"

"Are you thinking about Ashley?" he asked, voice suddenly subdued.

"You do too."

"Yeah."

His tone made her eye him sharply. "My choice."

"With an obvious reason."

"Yeah," Shepard said stoically. "My reason."

"I-"

"If it's not my fault, Kaidan, it's hardly yours either."

"But why, though?" he asked, decided to change the subject. "We're gonna change it. This time, she won't- We're gonna change it."

Shepard looked much too vulnerable for a second. "We are, right?" Are we gonna make it, Kaidan?

"Of course we are," he said immediately. "Are you kidding? We've done more with less, and if there's one person for the job, it's you."

She blew a breath. "Yeah. So many people put so much faith in me. That's-" The sentence trailed off.

"I'm a biased example."

She smiled a little. "Yeah, but not an outlier."

"Well, there must be a reason for that. It's possible that you've earned that faith legitimately." Hope and a fighting chance.

Shepard opened her mouth to argue, but then caught his eye and closed it again. He took her other hand and brushed his thumb over the finger scar. "It's not her, exactly. Or, well, not just her, I should say."

He regarded her for a few moments, deliberating, and she looked away.

"Do you want to talk about them for a bit?"

She shook her head. "You don't have to-"

"Tell me about them."

Now it was her turn to deliberate, and then she seemed to break. "You remember that shuttle that got shot down as we were leaving Earth? When the reapers attacked."

"Yeah."

"The little boy that talked to me about the catalyst. He said he was the catalyst. And he looked like the real boy that I'd seen climb into that shuttle."

"Oh, Shepard," he sighed, a little heartbroken.

She pressed her lips together firmly and he let her keep going. "You know, the funny thing is, he's probably some kid or even a toddler now, down on Earth, blissfully unaware of anything. Wouldn't know who I am at all." The crinkles around her eyes became pronounced. "I'd seen him before he got on that shuttle," she revealed. "Caught him sneaking around the rubble when Anderson and I were running for the Normandy. I tried to get him to come with, but – he was too scared. He'd been playing ball, before they hit. Saw him from a window."

"They won't get that far this time."

"No, they won't," she said with a steel he knew as uniquely hers.

"He'll be safe," he said, brushing his lips against her hairline. He didn't know how he'd gotten this close, but it was becoming increasingly hard to keep their relationship under wraps. And it was entirely their own fault.

"He will."

"So why do you think the catalyst looked like him?"

Shepard shrugged. "He said it was because he was a reason." She hesitated. "He's at the very least a pretty good general reminder. The loss of potential when it's a kid that dies, it's – I mean, it works pretty well as a metaphor, at least. And – death is death. Every single one I've ever felt on my own skin trails behind him when I'm reminded."

Kaidan didn't know what to say to that, so he followed his instincts. "We should go to Earth first."

"What?"

"When it's over. We should head to Earth. At least for a little bit."

"Why?" He only shrugged in response, placed a kiss on her hand. She almost sighed. "Yeah. Okay. Back to the start. I like it."

They grinned at each other. Then she shifted against the wall. "Still wanna hear about more ghosts?"

"Of course."

She tapped her scarred finger against his hand for two beats. "There was Mordin. You never met him. Hopefully you will this time."

"The mad scientist, right?"

Shepard giggled, which stunned Kaidan so much he almost forgot he was being sympathetic. "He definitely was. I know I'm not an idiot, but he was so smart that I felt like a common fool when I talked to him."

"Well, I feel like a common fool when I talk to you, if that makes you feel better."

"You're no fool."

"No, but I sure can act like one in front of a pretty girl."

She scoffed. "Sure, you say that to downplay yourself, and then next thing I know, you're waxing poetic about the end of the world, love, and important things before we die."

"I like to keep you on your toes," he teased, feeling the tips of his ears warm up.

"Hmm."

Change of subject. "He sacrificed himself for the genophage mission," Kaidan recalled, having read the report. Shepard tended to half-ass paperwork as much as she could, called him a nerd for picking up the slack and doing extra homework to boot. He didn't mind. He liked the look in her eyes when she said it, and frankly with everything she did, red tape almost seemed petty in comparison. It wasn't like she didn't understand its importance, but when she came back to the Normandy after a tough mission covered in blood and trauma, the last thing anyone should ask of her was that. But the Council and the Alliance tried anyway, and that's where Kaidan stepped in.

She nodded gravely. "He – changed. So much, while he was around me. He was a good person. Spent his whole life the smartest person in the room, so he was the one ultimately making the morally ambiguous decisions. At some point, it became a number game. He lost sight, a little."

"And then he met you."

"He didn't need me to take a step back from his own work. He just needed some time and perspective. And he was a good man. He is a good man. And I, well – I always felt he understood what it takes to keep someone awake at night better than anyone."

"You related to him?"

"Being forced to make hard decisions you have no business making? That no one has any business making? Hell yeah, I did."

"But you don't lose sight. Ever. I know, I've seen it."

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly.

Suddenly he tasted something bitter and he shook his head stiffly. "Not the same thing."

"How so?" she asked lightly.

"Because you made difficult decisions, not wrong ones. Cerberus – was regrettable. It was what you had to do, I get it. I don't – I shouldn't have doubted you. And I won't, ever again. But don't compare that to the genophage."

Shepard didn't seem convinced. "It's – in the past. It doesn't matter anyway." She changed the subject. "Thane. The drell from the hospital?"

He realized she'd brought up another ghost. "Oh. I thought that guy was acting friendly to me in an out-of-character way. Hell of a fighter, though."

"He promised to watch over you for me."

"That's sweet. A little creepy and insulting, but sweet."

"I didn't ask him to, if that makes you feel any better. He just offered."

"I'll try not to take that the wrong way. If that's even possible."

A grin flashed across her face, but she decided to explain. "He was very astute. He could tell what- well, what you meant to me. And I think his loyalty to me was-"

"Unfaltering," Kaidan supplied. "Yeah. You do that to most people."

"Gets a lot of them killed."

"Starting to feel like the cheerleader when the opposing team is my own team. I can't tell if you're looking for reassurance or ego-boosting anymore."

She snorted. "I don't know. I guess I'm just saying what comes to mind. It feels good, I think there's a lot in there that needs to get out already. I can't – like Mordin. I can't let it become a number game. Ruthless calculus. No. I need to remember, think, obsess about them sometimes. I need to talk about my reasons." Are we gonna make it, Kaidan?

He hid everything behind a careful mask he only managed because she wasn't staring directly at him. "Lay it on me. I got all day." One breath, two, and he could balance things. He could be there for her, he could hold it at bay for a little while.

"That right? What would your commander say, Alenko?"

"I think she's got a thing for me, she'll let me get away with it."

"Oh? Breaches of protocol on my ship?"

"Yeah, but no one's got the guts to say anything about it to her."

She started laughing. The mood had effectively been lightened, so he felt safe enough to brush a strand out of her forehead, hand shaking only a little. But he needed to touch her, just to make sure he still knew where he stood.

"You okay?"

Why did he still try to hide things from her?

"I'm just realizing how much you-" He couldn't, for the life of him, finish the sentence.

She grabbed herself, hands on elbows and expression unreadable. "I'm sorry, this is too much."

"No. No." He untangled her arms, ran his hands down to her hands, and pulled her close without letting go. "I want – I need you to do it. Please. I've never – this feels like you're trusting me with things you haven't told anyone else."

"For a reason."

"It's killing you. I want to know – I like understanding you like this, I've never wanted anything more."

"When I died-" His biotics powered up automatically. She gave him a knowing look that he took as an accusation, and he concentrated on calming himself to prove her wrong. "When I died, it felt like – my goal. Imperfect, full of compromises, but it felt like the fight was over. It felt like I'd done my job. And now – everything reset. And it's hitting me in waves. I didn't expect it to be so hard. I don't want it to weigh on you too."

"When you died, it felt like I failed my job. Both times. It felt like an insurmountable obstacle had been put between me and my goal." Shepard froze, and he could see how desperately tempted she was to accept his pleas. He looked her straight in the eyes because he was cunning too. "Please."

She breathed in deeply. "You actually want to listen, don't you?" She'd never looked at him like that – he was usually the one with wonder in his gaze.

"I always want to listen."

"Kaidan-" The expression on her face was all over the place and he didn't think she knew what she wanted to say either.

Of course, that was when Wrex walked in, and as they both immediately took several steps away from each other, he gave them an entirely disgusted look. The interruption was a welcome breath of fresh air, however. His emotions simmered down, and he saw Shepard clasp her hands tightly behind her back in that way she did that meant she was dragging herself back to reality.

"Well, I'm convinced. You two detest each other," Wrex said perfunctorily. Kaidan had never even heard him use sarcasm, he hadn't thought he knew how. "Why are humans so weird about their mating rituals?" the krogan wondered.

They pretended not to hear that. "What did you need, Wrex?" Shepard asked, and her voice was perfectly even.

"Uh – yeah, well, I've been waiting for the right moment, but I'm not very good at that." Understatement. "Today seemed like a break. Plus, I don't see anything slowing down anytime soon, so – I wanted to talk about the genophage."

"What's there to talk about?" Kaidan said, confused. "Last time it went well, we just need to make sure it happens the same way."

"And you know, keep Mordin alive this time around," Shepard added.

"Yeah, about that," Wrex jumped in quickly. "Can't we go off and fish him out of whatever hole he's in? Try and get him to jumpstart his science-y shtick?"

Shepard and Kaidan exchanged a look. "We're being careful about contacting people, Wrex," Shepard said, slowly.

He puffed out a violent breath. "Yeah, I figured you'd say that. I'd complain if you didn't make carefulness work every time."

Shepard snorted. "We're seeing if we can arrange an 'accidental' meeting, but it needs some thought."

"That what you and Alenko and the doc and Garrus and Tali and all are talking about all day?"

"That and many other plans," Shepard expertly deflected, taking on an assuring tone. "We need solid strategizing – there's a lot we know and a lot to be done, and we want it to go as smoothly as possible this time."

"Uh-huh," Wrex agreed unhappily. "Fine. Just make sure it's quick, Shepard. I want my people thriving as soon as possible."

"They will be. Trust me. You've never had a reason not to. In the meantime, you should focus on planning yourself. Maybe you could employ future knowledge to make uniting the krogan an easier task. And don't forget Uvenk," she reminded.

"That infertile son of a bitch is already dead, he's just waiting for someone to tell him," Wrex dismissed. "And can't make it any easier. What can I say, I'm just a born krogan," he bragged.

"Sure are," Kaidan muttered, and Shepard coughed with a straight face. Wrex left with an easy smile, perfectly appeased by seemingly very little, and honestly, that was predictable.

Shepard met his eyes uneasily for a second, and he decided to break the silence casually. "One of these days, you'll teach me that."

"What?"

"The charm thing you do. I didn't even know krogan could be talked down, and you like to do it regularly."

"I have one of those faces."

"Yeah, what kind of face is that, then?"

She didn't answer. "Weren't we talking about depressing things?"

"You were talking about Thane," he prompted, in an attempt to establish their discussion about her sharing skills as finished.

She deflated, but she'd found herself back in his personal space and he decided that was a good sign. "Yeah. You know, he was dying even before he got stabbed."

"I – there's something about the drell's lungs? He wasn't up for heart-to-hearts, back then."

She nodded. "He's probably already-" She shook her head. "He prayed for me when he was dying."

Kaidan had no idea how someone withstood so much misery and smiled at him the way she did anyway. "We could try to reach out and – ask the doctor's – Mordin's help?"

She looked thoughtful. "I don't know. Thane's got his life in order, just – well, there's his son. Still. Beyond that – I get that he's following his path. I think I'll let him. Eventually, the time will come that it'll cross mine again. Then – then we'll see."

Kaidan didn't really understand, but that was why Shepard was in charge. "Okay. He seemed like a good guy." He took her hand again.

She hummed. "Then there was Legion."

"Oh, yeah, the geth." Kaidan tapped his fingers absent-mindedly, eyeing her inscrutable expression from the corner of his eye. "You know, I never even questioned it, but – well. Geth - AI," he corrected, wanting to generalize his thought, "having sentient rights just like organics. Machines are alive, with all the caveats therein implied. Geth included. That's a new one. Predictably new, but still."

She sighed and wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, and moral debates are so not part of my skill set."

Kaidan gaped at her so long she looked offended. "You're kidding, right? I half expect the Council to ask you to replace Udina when we drag his ass out of the Citadel."

"That's ridiculous."

"Shepard," he said patiently, "What was I just saying about this? You've ended no less than two long-lasting interspecies galaxy-wide conflicts, peacefully, and that was just in the last few months. Not to mention how you accidentally wander between two heavy weapons on the regular and manage to talk them into somehow pointing at whatever it is yours is pointing at instead."

He saw her pretend not to preen a little. "Yeah, well, I'm good at talking. That doesn't have anything to do with my morals."

"Talking is one thing, listening is another. You do both, and it only works if you're being fair to whatever you're talking at. You're an idealist, Shepard. The best kind, the kind that can and does do something about it. A peacemaker in the middle of a war."

She looked exasperated, but her smile was the good one, with the carefree crinkles around her eyes, looking at him like he'd made her forget everything else at least for a little while. The Commander Shepard, all the brilliance and talent and skillset and brightness wholly focused on him, a tiny break in time when she was just his.

These were the moments that made his heart skip a few beats, when he got to see her like this - the woman who everyone else always saw trying to hold the universe together with her bare hands (and generally succeeding) - melting a little in his arms.

"You keep singing my praises like that and I'm going to have to do something about it, you know."

"You're terrible at threats."

"But I always make good on them."

"I'm counting on it."

The amusement drained quickly after the quiet set in. "Thank you. For this." The feverish undertones in her voice weren't harmless. He kissed her for a dangerous amount of time, considering where they were.

Later, alone with her and all their personal reasons in her quarters, he caught a flash of a promise on the screen of her personal terminal. A message from Ashley with the kind of content she liked best; a snapshot of a moment or several, a fleeting thought or a perpetual prayer –

Not because of victories

I sing,

having none,

but for the common sunshine,

the breeze,

the largess of the spring.

Not for victory

but for the day's work done

as well as I was able;

not for a seat upon the dais

but at the common table.


POEM: Te Deum, by Charles Reznikoff