Warning: Possible spoilers for all the games.
Pairing: M!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko
Note: Originally for the kink meme. Polished and cleaned up version, updated 04/20/2014 because I've never known how to leave things alone.

III. CIRCLE

- "No."

There was no answer possible to that tone; it wasn't the Commander one, nor the cold soldier, even less the angry John. This one, Kaidan had never even heard before; it tugged at his heartstrings, was enough to empty his lungs and make him see black for a second. He wanted to think that this sound he'd heard was sadness and hurt and panic and fear, anything to settle his mind far from the taste of ash in his mouth.

- "I'm sorry, Kaidan. I'm sorry. I can't take this risk, love. I can't."

The voice is gentler, softer even, but there's an unsettling firmness behind them. John is trying to console him, but he won't change his mind, Kaidan's mind supplies. Finality, he thinks while finding himself unable to even look at his lover, instead choosing to concentrate on his own hands. Behind him, the mattress sinks a bit, the sign of someone moving. Not towards him, though. There's the sound of bare feet on the wooden floor, of fabric and a zipper. His hands haven't changed much since the day they walked up the hill to their apartment for the first time; they're still calloused, still hardened and he remembers John's stare, the empty dark eyes when he saw the park in front of the building.

Leaves and trees burnt gray and black, a sick and hollow look to them, with a lone, long-abandoned stone bench underneath. He remembers talking about how it will be nicer in spring, how they will go sit in the shadows in summer, how autumn will be beautiful when it comes next year, and John finally smiling, just a little. Their living-room and bedroom windows both have a view on the park. He remembers talking about that, too. John liked the scenery, enough so that Kaidan would often find him gazing upon it, lost to the world and himself, even. He knows his lover's looking over there now, too. Every time Kaidan sees him doing this, he imagines him thinking about that first day, about promises of a better tomorrow. They have it now.

- "They were right. They were right, and it's not worth it. You see, my parents, they… We never did talk about them, I think. They were…"

And it's true. They never did. As Kaidan raises from the bed and turn to his companion, it's like a thousand needles prickle him, even though it's only September, hasn't even been one year that they're here. As he thought, John's looking outside. His clenched jaw rings something in Kaidan's mind, but he can't pinpoint what, no matter how desperately he tries to grasp it. It's a feeling not unlike being in a sniper's line of sight; even a friendly one, even Garrus, and he almost snickers, because why think about him now? It's alarm, confusion, frenzy, dread. It's a rush and Kaidan is frozen, waiting on the edge of something.

Somewhere, something's falling.

- "… loving. They loved me, I think. They tried their best for us, to get us ready to live in their world. My family, they weren't bad, it just had been hard for them. They told me, when I was very young, "You mustn't trust people, John. People will stab you in the back as soon as they will be able. You can find value and others and have esteem and respect for them, John, but you can't trust. Nor those you will call friends, nor anyone else. Even your family, even if family is above everything else."

For a split second, he wants to laugh. Never before John had talked about all this. They had planned to go meet Kaidan's parents after transcontinental transportation would have been fully reestablished, but never once did John say anything about his own family. He had seen the files, of course; they only ever talked of a sixteen years old orphan trying to pass eighteen and succeeding. Siblings, there were siblings. Had been. Did it count as a lie? His train of thought's derailing, he knows. It doesn't matter now. No, it does, but telling to a too little years old boy that everything he will ever have in the whole world is himself, how does that work? How does that even work? It's cruel, and hard, and monstrous, and he's not quite able the find the words, seemingly condemned to wait while holding his breath for an answer to his broken heart.

He remains, he expects, he watches John stare at the trees as if their leaves weren't green, as if almost one year ago, his mouth set on a firm line. He stays and he can't see anything in his lover's face, can't find the child, can't reconcile the kid who had to hear with the man he knows, with the paragon of virtue, the savior, the strong one. With Shepard.

- "I have friends. I have more than that, even. And I've proved that what they gave me, I'd gladly give in return. That as they'd lay their down their lives… I'd do the same. But in the end, in the end of things, it doesn't change anything. They did right, taught us, taught me well, and I'd do the same. I'd burn it in them like they did to me, because as painful as it was, living like that… I still think they were right, even though I know that, it's… it's not what you want for your children, Kaidan. That's not what I want for mine, either. Risking this… no. No. It's not worth it."

It's like a flame. Like disappointment (not in Shepard, never in him), like wanting to stand up after being beaten black, like anger licking your insides and trying to burn its way out of you.

- "You are stronger, you are — better than this!"

A mouth like a straight line; empty, dark eyes, gazing upon a forest scorched coal and a single, forsaken stone bench.

- "No."

It breaks.