Note: This was written in the context that a relationship had already been established, but you can view it in he light of close friendship.
X X X
Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams reached out and knocked on the door.
Considering they were speeding towards the end as fast as the Normandy could go, simple formalities seemed trivial, especially with someone like the Commander. After all, they could be dead tomorrow, maybe even sooner. But it seemed out of place to drop all the customs and go charging into the older woman's room. Like it would break the illusion everyone seemed to be under. So she knocked.
"It's open," Shepard's voice sounded from behind the metal.
The lock released, the doors sliding open with a small, familiar hiss, and Ashley stepped into the room. She scanned the spacious flat, head snapping to the side when she heard footsteps. Shepard stepped out of the bathroom, towel around her neck, water dripping from her curly hair, down her cheeks. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt, Skipper," Ashley said.
"It's fine."
Silence fell around them. Ashley shifted slightly from one foot to the other, unsure of what to say. The words of long dead poets seemed to fill the space better than she ever could, but nothing seemed appropriate. What do you say when you're staring down the end of the world? Hell, failure meant the end of the galaxy. Poetry didn't seem to cut it.
But Shepard would pull through. She always had before.
And if Ashley died to get the woman to that point, then so be it. She wasn't afraid of death. After all, she had looked right in death's face and prepared herself to be snatched by it back on Virmire, before the Commander had done a 180 and run back for her. Her. What she was afraid of, however, was blinking the dust and debris away, wiping the blood from her eyes, and seeing all the people she had come to adore lying dead in the aftermath.
She shook her head slightly to rid herself of these thoughts.
"I'm glad you're here, Ash," Shepard said, snapping the Lieutenant back to reality. To the here and now. "And I have something for you."
Ashely raised an eyebrow as the woman turned around, heading over to her far-too cluttered desk. Honestly, in a time where you could have all the information you'd ever need to know on one single datapad, it was a wonder how she managed to keep the space so disorganized and messy.
The Commander's hand closed around something, and Ashley wondered what it was. Some odd 'hey we're going up against a race of machines that have decimated every advanced species to ever come before us so what the hell' kind of gift. It certainly wouldn't be beyond the older woman, who was prone to buying gifts and giving them at the most inopportune of times.
When Shepard shuffled back over, Ashley instinctively opened her hand. The object was cool in her hand, clinking softly as metal hit metal. She knew what it was before the Commander had even taken her hand away. The Lieutenant stared the gift. And stared. And stared.
Dog tags.
Those were something dying soldiers gave to their best friends as they bled out on the battle field. Or something returned to grieving families after news of their beloved child dying valiantly light years away. This was not the kind of thing the first human Spectre, the woman who had gone through the Omega 4 Relay on a suicide mission and returned with her entire crew, gave. Shepard wasn't admitting that death was the inevitable fate for her, was she?
"I know what you're thinking," the Commander began, drawing Ashley attention away from the precarious object and to her face. A tired smile played on her lips. She looked so worn out, strung past her limit and the breaking point of many. Her soft blue eyes might have been a thousand years old if the Lieutenant hadn't known better. "But hear me out."
Ashley nodded silently and Shepard continued. "It might seem a little ridiculous, but I'm very attached to those dog tags. When I first got them, God, it feels like a century ago, I saw them as two golden tickets. They were a way out of the mess I called my life, and an invitation to a better one. Though they held no real purpose other than identification, but to me they were the start of the best decision I've ever made." Shepard's smile grew wider. "These are my original tags from when I was a cadet. It's against regulations, but I always wear them, along with the newest ones I receive. "
It was just like Shepard, breaking the rules because she was sentimental over the most simple of things. Those tags meant so much more her though, represented a massive turnaround in her life. The tiny sheets of metal were important, and I was dreading to know the reason she was giving them to me.
"I suppose you could say they're a bit lucky, if you believe in that. Or maybe not. I've never had them off long enough to find out," the Commander managed to chuckle at that and Ashley tried to join in as best she could. "Anyways, you see those holes on the upper right corner. Bullet punched through my armor when my shields were down. Didn't save my life or anything, in fact, doctors had to pull bits of it from the entrance wound."
"Shepard," Ashley said, snapping the older woman out of her reverie. "Why are you giving these to me? You need more luck than I ever will."
The Commander's next smile reached her eyes. "Ash, it's not about luck. You know I believe in making your own. I'm giving you my tags to safeguard them."
The confusion was evident on her face, because Shepard explained. "I care about those tags. And I want them back. An incentive to push through the pain, even if all I want to do is lie down and die, just to be over it all."
Ashley frowned playfully, seizing the opportunity to lighten the mood, even if only for a moment. "So coming back to me and your rag tag family isn't incentive enough?"
"Afraid you're being upstaged by a piece of well worn metal?"
"In your dreams, Skipper."
"Think of it as a promise," Shepard said, the gravity of the conversation falling around them once more. "Something physical, that you can carry with you. More than just my word." She took the tags in both hands, leaning forward and throwing them over her neck. They settle neatly near Ashley heart, the twisted end where the bullet had glanced snagging slightly on her clothes.
"Perfect," the Commander whispered. "I want those back when this is over, Lieutenant. And not a single scratch on them." Her eyes twinkled.
"Only if you're able to walk over and take them, Commander."
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Author's Notes: Tentatively dipping my toes into the ME fandom.