If all goes as planned

Will you redeem

My life again?

-Faunts M4 Part II

Huerta has very little in the way of patient entertainment, the view is exceptional, but even the majesty of the Citadel quells when you know you're sitting on your ass while people are dying. That curving horizon only brings back memories of Saren and the white knuckle ride we'd had defeating him. And those were the easy days. At least the vista was open. Ever since I came out of that collector attack alive, enclosed spaces, like escape pods make me uncomfortable. Not claustrophobic or anything like that; just very aware of the lack of space. I'm sure it's not the memories those confined feelings bring with it.

I remember having a conversation with Joker a few hours after we were picked up by the Alliance. He asked me about survivor's guilt, didn't crack a one liner or smirk, just spoke quietly. I realised he thought I blamed him, as he blamed himself, for Shepard dying, and for a moment or two, I did. But I was angry at Shepard for being a blasted martyr. Survivor's guilt can kill the person saved, long after the events have passed. Thinking you could have died, is very different from knowing you should have died. I understood when Joker left the Alliance and followed Shepard, joining Cerberus was incidental, Jeff wanted to fly, and being a graceful, soaring bastard was important to the physically challenged pilot. But Joker left Cerberus without a glance backwards when Shepard was incarcerated, like the debt of a life connected them and, I guess, it will connect them forever – however long that is.

Now, I owed him again. Have I lost count how many times he's saved my ass? No, but there's a difference between knowing he'd got my back and we've scraped through, again, with him choosing my life over someone else's. I've never forgotten that he picked me to live over Ashley. I should have died. I wanted to feel guilty for surviving, but truth is I felt guilty for wanting to live. I was glad Shepard chose me. Don't get me wrong, I would have died for him, orders are orders. I just… didn't want to die.

When that thing, Dr. Eva, started to smash my skull against the shuttle, I could only think one thing: I don't want to die. I could hear Shepard screaming my name and it only highlighted how desperately I wanted to live. I hadn't finished what I had set out to do; defeat the reapers, save lives etc. I only saw the future things I hadn't done, which seemed so desperately unfair. When I woke up, I was pleasantly surprised to discover I'd survived. The pain I was in only reinforced depth to that feeling; had to be alive in the first place to feel it. I knew he'd saved me, I didn't have to be told.

How could I doubt him?

I feel I've misunderstood him, wronged him with my questions, but the questions won't stop burbling up from inside. I feel the questions are a dam; keeping the silent sea at bay. When the questions are gone, what then? That is genuinely frightening.

I know he's coming to see me soon, I got a message via the extranet saying as much. It was brief. I'm not sure if the brevity is because he's busy or pissed at me, or both. I know one thing, I'm not going to waste moments to speak to him like I did before. Every time I've had the chance to clear the air, I've attacked him, so this time I will make sure I set everything straight. That way if I die or he dies, I'll have said my piece. Of course, I won't be telling him everything, I just need to know that things are ok between us. If they aren't… well, I'm going to make sure they are, no alternative.

****

I really wish Udina would go away. Is it not enough to send me messages; does he have to come here in person to restate what he has already said in digital form? It's not that I'm not honoured, of course I am… being a Spectre is a big deal. But I need to look Shepard in the eye and see if he feels I am up to the task; that's the only input I require. Plus, I have never forgotten the shoddy way he treated Anderson and Shepard before, and like a typical Politian he acts like none of it happened. I remember.

Then as Udina is breathing in for another round of 'convincing' the doors slide apart and Shepard appears. I feel my stomach lurch, my pulse quickens, but no one notices because Udina and Shepard are looking at each other, guardedly. This suits me and I settle down in my bed, which all of a sudden is the most uncomfortable thing I've ever had the misfortune to lay on.

The first thing I notice about Shepard is the weariness. I remember how relentless he was in finding and defeating Saren, but this was a completely new level of tired. He'd lost weight too; not anything significant, but enough to make him look less than his usual healthy self. But then I remember: he died.

We talk for a while, clear some things up and I finally set things on a better path with him. I feel things lighten between us and it's good. I'm grateful for another chance to actually say I what I needed to say instead of wasting it. He calls me Major, gives me a bottle, and asks all the right questions. I take the opportunity to ask a few of my own.

"What are the reports like, from Earth?" I ask, knowing it won't be good and his pause before replying is all the answer I need.

"It's not good, but Anderson is surviving, so are others," Shepard's eyes flick over me to the vista beyond, "Palaven is falling too."

"I've heard the doctors talking about an attack, I had no idea it was as bad as Earth."

"It's terrible, but we have to carry on no matter how many planets fall, no choice," Shepard looks back to me and changes the subject, clearly not wanting to dwell on the starkness of reality. "Vega insists he can smell victory already; it's just Cortez's cooking is so bad no one else can smell it yet."

I can't help but laugh. It seems that's what Shepard intended as his eyes light a little and changes the outlook of his face for a moment. Then Shepard asks, "Do you think you'll accept? Being a Spectre, I mean." There's little doubt in his question, but I suspect he wants to know something more than the question itself.

"I'll accept and hopefully be able to use it to save some lives. Maybe even get to smell some victory with Vega. I don't know what Udina has in mind for me; I guess I'll have to wait and see." I see a furrow in his brow and then he nods like that's what he expected.

"I can't think of anyone else I'd rather call a fellow Spectre," he smiles slightly, "Although, I warn you, the pay is rubbish, the council probably won't heed your advice and you'll go through a ridiculous amount of armour."

There's more to it than that though, it's like he doesn't want me to accept and I'm not sure why. He seems to sense my confusion as he adds, "Kaidan, just be careful… I'm losing people thick and fast out there."

"If you think I can't handle it-" he cuts me off.

"Of course, I think you can handle it, that's the point, Major. I know you'll go that extra mile."

"Yeah, I see your point, but I think the overall idea of being a Spectre is to survive your missions, otherwise it will be the shortest career of a Spectre ever. I mean, it's not like I'm going to be jumping on the suicide mission bus anytime soon, is it?" I gesture to my messed up face and hope he takes the suicide mission statement, not as a dig, but a reminder that I do know what it has cost him - what it continues to cost him - to get here. I like that he is concerned about me though, gives me a tiny thrill despite the subject.

"Well, Major, you'd have to get better to board that bus," he smiles again to lighten the comment. "Now, I have to go back to the Normandy and tell Garrus he's still the most scarred person on the ship. He expressly said, he couldn't have you outdoing his roguish, battle-scarred charm with the females. I'll come back as soon as I can."

He lingers as I say my goodbye, laughing, he nods and departs before I can think to say anything else. He doesn't look back; I was hoping he would.

It's not until later I find out Shepard was asking the doctors when I'd be fit for duty, not if, but how long. I know he's happy I'm going to be a Spectre, but I had hoped he'd ask me to serve on the Normandy, but he didn't. I can't help but wonder if that's because I questioned him all those time, or because I refused him back on Horizon. Those damn doubts crawling back in; when he's here, I hardly think of them, but alone, it seems I have too much time to think about it.

There are other thoughts roaming around my head like restless marbles; they are more pleasant. I think over the conversation we had, remembering every glance, every time he patted my arm or brushed my hand accidentally with his. Recalling these moments add fuel to the embers looking for ignition inside; they really don't need much encouragement. I remember the adrenalin I felt on Mars, fighting with Shepard had brought so much back. But just sitting, talking, his sole focus on me was exhilarating. Perhaps I am being selfish, enjoying the company of this man in a way he'll never see me, but there seems little light left in the galaxy, so I guess I'll find the sparks where I can.