There was… a noise.
Shepard buried her face into her pillow and curled up more tightly on her side. Her body was still heavy with sleep, and she could already feel herself slipping under once more. She was almost there, melting into the oblivion of slumber; dissolving into a dream that was, for once, blissfully numb and empty.
But, something was still making noise and it dragged her up to the surface of wakefulness once again.
It was a noise that should make sense, if she could only concentrate on it, but her thoughts were still too half-submerged for her to think clearly.
"Hey, Commander! Are you waking up or what? I could come get your ass up personally, but we all know how long that would take."
"Joker? What the hell?" Shepard groaned. "What's wrong?"
"Well, the only thing really wrong is the giant fleet of deep space mechanical bugs that are destroying every known sentient life form, but I think you've been briefed on that one already. Currently, though, the asari councillor is getting her tentacles, or whatever those head things are, in a knot because you haven't responded to her communication requests."
"I'll take a look at it now. Anything else?" Shepard rubbed her eyes and reached for her omnitool to turn up the lighting level in her cabin. It was pinging softly, indicating there was at least one urgent message in her inbox.
No, not one.
Seven.
Two from Hackett, five from Councillor Tevos.
Shit.
"Not much. We should be docking in about two hours. Oh, and the new Fornax is in, apparently. Should I get them to hold you an issue, or did you want me to just buy two copies when I—"
"Why the fuck is it past 1300?"
Shepard stared at her omnitool in disbelief.
She'd been asleep for over fourteen fucking hours.
"Why didn't anyone wake me?" She scrambled out of bed, biting back a hissed curse at the throb that suddenly magnified in her wounded leg. "EDI!"
"Do you need something, Shepard?"
"Yes, I damn well need something! Why wasn't I woken at the start of my shift?" She yanked off her tee-shirt and carefully shimmied her shorts down over her hips, leaving the discarded garments uncharacteristically in the middle of the floor.
"I'll… just leave you ladies to it. If it gets physical, I want pictures though, okay?"
"Fuck off, Joker! EDI? I want an answer."
"When I informed Dr. Chakwas that you had been asleep for 5.6 hours without waking—your longest period of continual rest since you were reinstated aboard the Normandy—she elected to override your shift reminder. This order was within her authorization clearance, so I saw no reason to disregard it."
Shepard was half-dressed, hopping awkwardly into her pants. "She still… should have… checked with me… first." She knew she wasn't being logical—if they had woken her to check, then it would have made the order irrelevant—but, she was still too annoyed to care. Shepard grabbed her jacket from its hanger, buttoning it as fast her fingers would comply. "What if something had happened?"
"Then we would have woken you up sooner. Councillor Tevos is waiting to speak with you on the vid-com, which is the only reason you were woken now. Otherwise, Dr. Chakwas had requested that you be left undisturbed until we docked at the Citadel."
With a wince, Shepard yanked her hairbrush roughly through her hair before tying it back. She paused for a moment in front of her mirror, eyes quickly skimming over her uniform to ensure she hadn't overlooked anything as EDI continued to talk, though she was barely listening; her mind already racing through everything that had to be done before they docked.
"Dr. Chakwas also requested that I remind you to take your next dose of antibiotics as soon as possible. Do you require anything further?"
She needed to talk to the asari councillor, message Hackett, do a final review of inventory logs… too much work for just two fucking hours. Shepard slammed her palm against the interface to open her door. "Tell Traynor to set up the vid-com. I'm on my way down."
"Of course. Logging you out, Shepard."
oOoOo
The meeting with Councillor Tevos had been mercifully shorter than she had expected, with the councillor saying little and instead requesting a face-to-face meeting in Udina's old office. She'd spoken to Hackett at length after that, delivering a concise summary of her recent shortcomings with a controlled air of detachment.
No more mistakes.
Perfect.
Precise.
Professional.
The rest of her time before they'd reached the Citadel had been a blur of activity—ensuring recovered artifacts would be accessible for prompt removal from the storage bay, reviewing current inventory reports, authorizing supply lists, scheduling maintenance and repair tasks that couldn't be easily done in open space; a mind-numbing onslaught of details and reports.
She hadn't been able to finish everything on her list before they had docked, but it would have to do for now. Her appointment with the asari councillor was in less than an hour and she still needed to review the additional intel that Hackett had provided. Shepard massaged the back of her neck to soothe her kinked muscles before diving into the next pile of datapads that Traynor had left for her as her stomach grumbled unappreciatively.
No time for that now.
Later.
oOoOo
The Citadel's night cycle had already begun by the time Shepard limped out of Udina's office, torn between the troubling news of the aggressive Reaper incursion into Asari space and cautiously hopeful that the Prothean artifact that Councillor Tevos had mentioned might be the key to figuring out exactly what the Catalyst was. Sure, it was a long shot, but it wasn't like they had any other options at the moment. Her leg was aching and tender as she hobbled down the stairs—it still hurt to put her full weight on it—and she reluctantly considered getting Dr. Chakwas to take another look at it if the pain didn't ease up soon.
The crowds in the central area were as thick now as they had been hours earlier; refugees seeking aid from their respective embassies; military personnel waiting for deployment. There was no real need for her to rush back to the ship—they were running a staggered skeleton crew for the next few days to allow everyone a chance at some shore leave—so Shepard made no effort to push her way through, letting the natural flow of the people surrounding her direct her movements.
Once she reached the elevators, she hesitated. She should head back to the Normandy, but the empty pull in her gut from too many forgotten meals made her reconsider. The thought of food—real food—was dangerously appealing. She pulled up her omnitool and checked her messages; there was nothing critical on the ship itself that required her immediate attention. There were a few people she needed to speak with on the Citadel, but the lateness of the hour made it unlikely that she would be able to find any of them. Maybe she had time for something quick…
The group of people in front of the elevator surged forward as the doors opened, and she let herself get carried along. It was oddly comforting to be alone, surrounded by strangers who had no idea who she was; too consumed by their own problems to give even a moment's thought to the person standing next to them. She could grab a transport to one of the market wards, get some proper street food, and be back on board in less than half an hour.
Her mind made up, Shepard got off at the next floor, and the insistent pulse that began to reverberate through her skull made it obvious where she was.
Purgatory.
Members of all races congregated here, seeking to forget their fears for a few short hours; drowning themselves in what used to be cheap liquor while the head-pounding beat of the music made it physically impossible to think. Not necessarily a bad thing, these days. She recognized a few of her own crew milling around near the entrance; faces she could put names to, though didn't know much about their backgrounds.
There was a long queue waiting for transport shuttles on this floor as Shepard smothered a wave of irritation. Of course. She was on her way back to the elevator, trying not wince at the shot of heat that accompanied every other step she took, when a voice stopped her.
"Commander."
She turned. "Lieutenant Vega." He was standing at attention, his expression more subdued than she'd come to expect from him. "What? No 'Lola?'"
He shrugged awkwardly. "I wasn't sure it was appropriate, Commander. Not after what happened yesterday…"
Shepard held herself perfectly straight. Poised. In control.
Garrus, charging into the med bay and throwing James up against the wall. His voice tempered with a harsh growl...
"Look." Shepard kept her gaze solidly on his. "I owe you an apology. I know you called that grenade." Her tone was as level and unwavering as when she'd said the same words to Admiral Hackett earlier in the afternoon. "It was my own fault for charging ahead and not listening. I got careless and… it could have been a lot worse. Don't blame yourself."
James didn't look away, folding his arms over his broad chest. "Who said I was blaming myself?"
"Spare me the bullshit. I know what it feels like to a make a bad call that hurts your squad. This time, it was my bad call, not yours. Clear?"
He studied her for a long moment before the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders relaxed. "Clear."
"Good. Now, don't let me keep you from your evening. I don't know when we're going to be back here next, so you might as well enjoy it."
"I plan to." James gestured towards the entrance to the club. "You coming in for a bit?"
Shepard shook her head. "Nah, not really my thing." She quickly flicked through her omnitool, checking her messages before flashing him a small smile. "Thanks for the offer."
"Aw, c'mon, Lola. What's the point of shore leave if you don't even take a few hours off?"
"No time." She pushed a button and the faint glow from the display faded. "It's fine. Really."
"One drink."
"I don't—"
"Just one. I'll even buy it for you."
"You're not going to give up, are you?"
James merely grinned. "I think you'll find I'm remarkably persistent. Besides, didn't you just apologize to me? Maybe you should be buying me a drink, no?"
Shepard gave in with a sigh. She did owe it to him, and she could still make up the lost time if she went straight back to the ship afterward. "Fine, but I can't stay long."
oOoOo
Inside, the music had been impossibly louder as James had, by some stroke of luck, managed to find them an empty table tucked away in the back corner closest to the bar. They'd passed Joker and EDI on their way in, but, thankfully, there had been no sign of Garrus or Tali. The thought was enough to make Shepard reach for her drink; a ridiculously colorful concoction—rainbows of fruit-flavored slush layered in a tall fluted glass—that justified its appearance only by being incredibly refreshing. She'd laughed when James had set it down before her while clutching a respectable tumbler of whisky and ice for himself—both purchased with her credit chit.
Cortez had joined them not long after they'd arrived, buying her another drink—despite her protests—and he and James were now happily swapping stories of pranks they'd pulled, people they'd fucked, and missions that had gone pear shaped but had somehow turned out all right in the end…
She wondered if this would be one of them. Not likely.
Purgatory was warm, even with the temperature regulators working non-stop, and Shepard couldn't deny that the sweet coolness on her tongue was better than she'd expected. She was content to sit back, tracing the trails left behind by the droplets of water condensing on the outside of her glass. She laughed in the right places, egged them on in others; there, but not there. Her thoughts ghosted from Thessia to her conversation with Tali, to the quiet ache where her two closest friends should have been.
When her second drink was nearly finished, the final multi-hued dregs dissolving into greyish brown syrup, a barely-clothed asari dropped another in its place. "From him," she whispered, leaning in closer than necessary; her lips scant millimeters away from brushing the shell of Shepard's ear. The asari pointed towards a cluster of tables where Joker was giving her a definitive smirk.
Shepard edged away, uncomfortable with the warm breath caressing her skin. "Thanks. Can you do me a favor and bring him one of these, too? Preferably with spiders or something in the bottom."
The asari smiled, her perfectly symmetrical rows of white teeth gleaming in the pulses of neon light. "We do have candied pandinus; they're similar."
"Perfect." She slid the new drink towards her and took a long pull through the straw. It tasted even better than her last one. "Put a few big ones in there for me. Extra claws and pincers. They're his favorite."
James clapped her on the shoulder as the waitress strolled sensuously back to the bar. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."
Cortez laughed. "Likewise."
Shepard sipped her drink as they waited, falling into gales of laughter with the others at Joker's horrified reaction at the mound of giant scorpion-like insects heaped in the center of his glass. It shouldn't have been so funny, but she was having a hard time stopping.
Her head was throbbing in time with the music and that made it bearable; like the amplified thud of her own heart and the blood rushing through her veins. Maybe she had been missing out, shutting herself away from all of this. She checked her omnitool again out of habit, just in case she had missed the quiet chime indicating that a new message had come in, but her inbox was the same as it had been an hour ago. She could stay a little longer. After all, she was only cutting into her scheduled sleep period, and she'd had more than enough last night anyway.
Shepard wasn't sure when she'd finished it, but her glass was empty once more and James ordered her another cocktail; this one was pale blue, carbonated with a dark violet gas that was making a stream of tiny bubbles float lazily to the surface. With a shiver—maybe the temperature regulators were finally working—she took a generous swallow and let the fizziness tickle the roof of her mouth.
A pair of Alliance soldiers that she didn't know cajoled Vega and Cortez into joining them on the dance floor; they tried to get her up, too, but she waved them off with excuses about her leg. She'd never liked dancing much anyway… During the celebration after they'd brought down Saren, she remembered Garrus teasing her; how could she be so graceful with an SMG in her arms and yet have such a deplorable sense of rhythm? The fondness of the moment was gone now, like her memories of Mindoir. It made her think of catching snowflakes as they fell, that one time it had inexplicably snowed; opening her hands excitedly each time only to find them empty.
For fuck's sake, was she ever going to be able to think about him again without feeling this way?
Draining the rest of her drink, Shepard signalled the waitress to bring her another. After this one, she would go. It certainly didn't look like James or Cortez was going to be back any time soon.
Shepard wrapped her arms around her chest, rubbing her hands over her upper arms to generate a little warmth, as she waited for the asari to return. Joker and EDI had gone elsewhere; their table was now occupied by a trio of salarians. A nearby group of Alliance marines were louder than the rest, cheering noisily for the asari dancer gyrating suggestively in the center of their table. There were enough of them that they effectively obscured her view of most of the tables beyond.
But not enough.
Not enough for her to miss them, as the bottom fell out of her heart.
They were laughing, Garrus' mandibles flared open in a wide grin. Tali was nestled against his side, his arm draped loosely over her narrow shoulders, as she tilted her head up to look at him.
Well.
Fuck.
They hadn't seemed to notice her, at least, as she shrank further back into the corner, but she would have to walk past them to reach the club's exit.
"Here you go. Need anything else?" Shepard hadn't even noticed the waitress' return.
"No. Thanks."
She would wait them out. No big deal.
When her drink was gone, she ordered another. She was staring at them—how could she not?—as they flirted, teased, talked. Each casual gesture of affection, every time she touched him, every time he touched her was a bullet ripping through her flesh. Shepard was trembling almost violently, only the methodical action of lifting her glass to her mouth and swallowing was keeping her together.
His hand lay on top of hers, absently stroking her long fingers as she talked.
Shepard gulped the last of the drink that was currently in front of her and looked around for the waitress, but the faces around her all seemed to blend into each other, swirling together like smoked glass…
She swore she could hear their laughter, directed at her, and her head felt fuzzy and muddled; like it had when she'd first woken up to Miranda's frantic voice urging her out of her subconscious haze.
Commander fucking Shepard.
If she could've seen her now…
She let her head drop until her forehead touched the coolness of the tabletop and she fought back another shiver.
Better.
A minute later, or maybe an hour, someone pulled out the chair opposite her. "Hey, Shepard."
It took a moment before she could make her body obey and she lifted her head, trying to make her eyes focus.
Of course.
She should have seen it coming, really, after how the rest of this fucking day had gone.
Her words were slurred and shaky. "Kaidan. Should've known. Just when I thought the universe was done telling me to go fuck myself."
A/N: Many, many apologies for how long it took to get this chapter written and posted. Thank you all so much for your patience and support!
A huge thank you to Josie Lange for the beta and all your helpful comments and suggestions, and thank you as well to Seika (xseikax here on FFNet) for her help and advice in getting me past my writer's block. Seika also did this gorgeous picture of Shepard (she's incredibly talented), so please go check it out. :D
ladyseika dot deviantart dot com/art/Fracture-Patterns-320147680