Camp La Brea was certainly a strange little place. Funded by a rich and idle Asari Matriarch who had a sudden fascination with all things Earth and Human, the thin strip of forest on a resort world had been terraformed and engineered to support clones of every species found in the La Brea tar pits. It was an interesting experiment. Scientists praised it. Officials salivated at the chance to bag their very own sabertooth tiger.
And, for a group of spacer kids shipped there by the Alliance Navy, it was the first chance they had to see trees.
It was a sly tacit agreement: they hosted the children at a discount rate, and the Alliance quietly scheduled all diplomatic working meetings there so that differences could be smoothed over by shooting a few dire wolves in the face. And so, two weeks in, Delia Shepard was leading a group of her fellow thirteen-year-olds out of their rustic cabin.
"Are you sure this is the right way, Deedee?"
"Yeah, I'm sure that I'm sure! And don't call me Deedee!" The red-headed girl in front turned to snap at one of the others in the back.
"But that's your name," she whined back. "Delia Daisy something-something Shepard, right?"
Delia huffed. "Yeah, that means you, like, call me Delia, OR you call me Daisy. Not both."
"Whatever." One of the other girls rolled her eyes, and most of the group giggled, save for one shy-looking tall girl who seemed to be hiding behind her long black hair. "You have the stink bombs, right?"
"Duh, of course I do," Delia said haughtily. "That's why I'm the leader. Now hurry up! We gotta cut across this patch of woods, then to the boy's cabin. Then we get them back for hacking the security system and making the alarm go off every twenty minutes."
The other girls giggled and chattered as they shuffled through the thick underbrush and wove between the tall pine trees. Shepard had barely managed to convince them to come along, save for the tall dark-haired girl. They made an odd pair. Nashira was dark-skinned and graceful with a ballet dancer's figure, tall and poised and quiet. Delia was so pale she nearly glowed in the darkness, short yet managing to be gangly and long-limbed at the same time. Somehow the shy beauty had become friends with the tomboy who seemed to thrive on skinned knees and loud shouting.
"Ssshhh! We're sneaking, remember?" Delia Shepard huffed, flailing a little. The girls managed to keep it down to a low hysterical twitter as they advanced through the forest to the glowing windows of the boy's cabin.
Then there was a very loud crunch behind them.
Everyone stood perfectly still. Another crunch, a heavy foot finding a fallen branch and snapping it. A large hot breath let out of a nose above a fanged mouth.
"OH MY GOD, IT'S A BEAR!"
Nobody had the sense to remember that there were currently no bears in the Camp La Brea woods. It was something large with teeth moving through the brush and that was enough to make the entire gaggle of teenage girls start shrieking like mad. They all turned to run, some of them shoving others back. The noise was enough that the lights in the counselor cabin flickered on, and the others were apparently in a rush to get to safety - so much so that one pushed Nashira aside. The dark-haired girl went down with a yelp, thoroughly twisting her ankle. The others ran past her.
All the others except Delia Shepard.
There was barely time to think, so Delia didn't. She just picked up the nearest large branch, grabbing it firmly with both hands, ready to swing it like a baseball bat.
Two beady eyes stared through the underbrush back at them as it took one more step forward on clawed paws. "Wwhfuu?"
"HYAAAAHHHH!"
The swing connected, and the great animal stumbled back. Delia didn't let up, bonking it over the head until the stick broke, and then outright hurling herself at the creature. When her small fist hit the animal's nose, it yelped and scrambled back, diving back into the woods.
Fifteen minutes later, both of them sat in the small camp clinic building. One of the Asari counselors shook her head, groaning. "It was a ground sloth! A ground sloth!"
"It looked like a bear?" Delia shrugged.
"Ground sloths look completely different! And they're herbivores!" The Asari flailed a little. "HERBIVORES! I just…" She reached up to massage her temples. "I am going to go call your mother. I expect Captain Shepard will have a lot more to tell you, young lady." She stomped off, shaking her head.
Delia gave a long sigh, looking over to Nashira. The other girl was on one of the clinic beds, her sprained ankle propped up. "I can't believe you did that," she said after a moment, voice small and quiet.
"Do what?" Delia blinked.
"You know… punch a bear," Nashira said in quiet awe.
Delia Shepard shrugged. "Well, um… yeah. That's what friends do, I guess."
They were quiet for a moment before Nashira leaned in and gave Delia a tight hug, which she returned.
"Best friends forever?" she squeaked.
"Yeah. Best friends forever."
Through the years, they kept the promise as best they could. Perhaps once a year Shepard and Nashira would meet for coffee,often liberally spiked with irish cream, and catch up. Nashira settled into a simple life of being a teacher while Shepard steadily rose through the ranks. Unfortunately, Spectres didn't have time for anything but work - not even time for best friends.
Truthfully, Delia Shepard didn't think of it until the first night on the Normandy SR-2. She was still dizzy. Her shoulder hurt. She could tell where Cerberus had stitched her back together, and where they still needed to do work. She just wanted to be alone, away from Kelly trying to be overly helpful, away from Miranda's constant critique…
It was idle curiosity that made her log into her old extranet mail account. She had been dead for two years. It was just going to be a sea of inane advertisements, most of them filtered out by a click of a button on the haptic interface. Shepard watched dully as her inbox emptied itself… all except for one message.
Nashira Bhat. Two weeks ago. 9:11 pm standard Citadel time. Message subject: Punched any bears lately?
A slow and genuine smile crossed Shepard's face. Some hadn't given up hope on her, not yet, anyway. She didn't even have to open the message before she reached over to gently prod the intercom button. "Joker?"
"Yeah, Commander?"
"Set course for the Citadel. I've got some old friends to go see."
"Aye aye, Commander."