Water down your empty soul
- Faunts M4 part II

I watched the vid over and over, but what my eyes saw and my ears heard, just didn't seem to sink in. The initial rush of excitement that thrilled through me made way for more misery. While this was all new for me, it was old news for Shepard. I'd already declared how I felt and he'd made his position clear. I thought I wanted to know, now I wish I'd never found out. It was worse this way. I felt defeated. I felt deflated. He felt the same but chose duty.

I probably did the worse thing to deal with the situation; I avoided him to have time to deal with it. I think, maybe, he was avoiding me a little too. Either way, we saw little of each other the few days before the Reapers hit Thessia. To see Thessia falling that way, to know that millions were dying as I stood on the Normandy and did nothing, made me feel so helpless and insignificant. I am nothing in the grand scheme of the things. And yet my life, here on the Normandy, counted towards hope. Hope has power, it has substance in the minds of men, and hope is something the Reapers will never understand. I hope for the Asari people as I do my own and I hope Shepard returns from Thessia alive.

When Shepard boarded the Normandy, I knew by his face that things had not gone well. For the first time, Shepard didn't seem able to look anyone in the eye. He stormed through to the war rooms.

I looked at Liara and I felt my heart break a little for her. She was barely keeping it together. She didn't want to leave, man… I really understood that. Didn't I leave a piece on my own heart back on Earth, when I too, had to leave.

"Hey, Liara? Are you ok?" A lame thing to say, but there is no eloquence that can cover 'How are you feeling after watching your planet fall?'.

She looks at me, angry at first, but then softens as she remembers Earth, "I'm not ok. I need to…" She hesitates, struggling to finish her sentence. "I need to speak to Shepard, I have to go back."

I don't say anything; I just reach out and put my hand on her shoulder, look into her eyes until she stops seeing Thessia, and sees me. She puts her hand over her mouth and loses composure for a few moments, she doesn't cry, but the horror of everything starts sinking in. It is becoming real for her. I mean… it was real before, but the blood of your people spreading across your own planet is realism in its barest form. I pull her in to hold her, not out of some masculine bullshit, but because she's my friend and I empathise with her pain. So much so, I can't help but shed a few tears myself. I don't hide it, why should I? If the fall of an ancient civilisation isn't something to cry about, then what is, the pain, the suffering, the death, or the fact we are utterly helpless to prevent it?

She pulls away from me as she regains her mask. I recognise it; I wear one myself on occasion. She'll pretend to be Liara for a time and then, when it's safe, when it's convenient she'll stop pretending for a little while and let some of the emotion go. That's how we have to cope, letting it out by piecemeal or drown. She says, "Thank you, Kaidan." And we say no more about it.

In the war room, Shepard is angry. I watch him stalk around the room. He is a predator and he wants blood. Cerberus won't know what has hit them. I see currents of pain in Shepard's face surfacing every time the Illusive Man is mentioned. We all have had enough of Cerberus, but it is frustrating to know that we will still have to wait. More downtime climbing the walls.

I give it a few hours, and then I decide I am going to go and speak to Shepard. I nearly fall over Garrus heading into the elevator.

"Ah, Kaidan, I was hoping to run into you," Garrus seems genuinely pleased to see me, though I couldn't help thinking he didn't need to run into me, he knows where my quarters are. "I have some of those Turian plays I mentioned last time we spoke, translated of course." He holds out a data pad.

"Er…Thanks," I say, politely. What Turian plays? I'm confused. Sure, I'll read the plays, but not now, I want to go see Shepard.

"Do you have time for a coffee?" He doesn't drink coffee, I know this and he knows this… but I get the meaning.

"Sure." This is actually the last thing I want. We go to the galley and get some coffee, well I do, Garrus drinks this brown stuff that smells like wet dog.

"Which one should I read first?" I ask, starting the conversation and suspecting Garrus is enjoying my puzzled look.

"You should definitely read 'The Primark's Fall', it's a very popular tragedy, thought provoking and hilarious." Ok, so Garrus is up to something here, I smell it… and it's not just wet dog.

"Hilarious? A tragedy?"

"Well, it's not supposed to be, but over the years as I have gotten older, I find many parts of it, ridiculous," Garrus picks the pad up and scrolls through until he finds what he's looking for. "Take this for example. The Primark's duty to Palaven is to protect it, but here in this scene his duty will kill his love."

"Why is that hilarious?"

"Because he can't do it, he chooses a different path that ultimately leads to his defeat in battle."

I still look confused, because I am still confused.

"Listen: I turn'd about face and left my men to die and defend my heart. I became lost no longer and erred a path to love, paved with the blood of soldiers soon interred. Their faces etched with my betrayal."

"I still don't get it, Garrus."

"The play damns love as the ultimate cause of the Primark's downfall, but if he'd told his men - men who were loyal enough to die knowing he lied to them - well… don't you see the irony? If they would die for his lie… they would've died for his love too. The outcome would have the same result, but the Primark would have his honour."

I blink.

Is he…?

Garrus continues in my stunned silence, "It only hilarious when you consider that love is supposed to be weak, in Turian eyes, it makes you susceptible. And yet, love underpins the entire play, the love of a mate, family, honour, duty and Palaven. Tactically speaking, ignoring the consequences of love was the cause of the fall, not the emotion itself."

"No, that's still tragic, Garrus, not funny."

He looks at me with what I can only describe as… gravitas and says, "Yes, you are right; it's not funny at all," no twinkle in his eye and no silent growl, just dead pan. "Well, I hope you enjoy the play… I've got to go and calibrate things. Busy, busy, busy."

I sat for a long time, looking at the space Garrus left behind. I can see he has changed since we last served together, grown darker, and yet somehow he still had that charm. Time with Shepard shows you dark things, it's hard not to take some of that inside yourself.

I read the play, it's caught my interest. It reminded me of some human plays I read when I was in school; we aren't so vastly different from Turian's really. I like Garrus, I really do, and he's taken the time to create this elaborate metaphor for what is happening between Shepard and me. I'm not sure why he'd didn't approach the subject directly, but I am glad of the distance he created. Now I am left wondering what to do with it. Garrus is basically telling me he thinks Shepard is making a mistake. I know he has tried to convince Shepard and failed, and now he's come to me, subtly, to the same end.

He's right in many ways, Shepard taking risks for me will get him, and the people with him killed. Luckily, Cortez's concussion was not serious and he was back to duty as soon as the Doc cleared him for flying. I reckon she would have kept him under observation for longer, but the safety margins are significantly reduced when time is not on our side.

So what do I do with this?

I've sat here, reading this play and drinking coffee, still none the wiser. A large part of me wants to go to him, grab him and kiss and let the chips fall where they may. However, I've always been fairly disciplined emotionally, since I know my biotic outbursts have dire consequences, so running in headfirst doesn't seem like such a good idea. It's just not me. Perhaps just being there, being around will be enough. Forcing the issue doesn't seem right in this instance.

I stand and start walking to the elevator. I key the button for Shepard's room. After a day like today, Shepard will be hurting, and that should be my only priority.

It takes a while for the doors to open.

Shepard opens them and says, "Kaidan, come in," he steps aside so I can enter. "What's up?"

I'm a little taken aback. He smiling, but still covered in Thessian dirt. He notices me noticing and he looks a little embarrassed.

"I er… fell asleep."

"Did I wake you?" I'm horrified at the thought I have woken him up.

"Yeah, but I'm glad you did. I've slept too long and I really need to shower," He gestures to his grubby state.

"I'll come back later when you've finished your shower."

"Actually, Kaidan, could you do me a favour?"

"Sure, Shepard, what do you need?"

He looks embarrassed to ask, but says, "Coffee and breakfast?"

I smile and start to head out of the door, "Well, I guess it's the least I can do after you dragged my ass out of that last mission alive."

I'm smiling as I gather breakfast for Shepard; I invite myself and add two cups and two plates. I'm obscenely happy performing this very domestic task. I go back up to his quarters and he's still in the shower. I set down the tray on the table and notice that there are some data pads on the floor, an ornament, and a glass. I'm no detective, but I'm sure they were thrown there. I pick the stuff up and place it back where I think it came from. I turn around to see Shepard standing in a towel, sipping his coffee. I hadn't heard him.

"When I asked for breakfast, I didn't expect the service to come with cleaning," his eyes glint with amusement. I only look at his eyes; I don't trust myself to glance elsewhere.

"Well, when I said I'd get you breakfast I didn't know what a messy ass you were… Sir," He laughs, grabs his clothes and dresses. I tactfully become more interested in the food and don't look over until he is finished dressing. We sit for a while, talking, eating, and not thinking about anything too dark. It's nice, I feel lightened by it.

After a while, he goes over to the data pads he'd thrown on the floor previously, retrieves them and places the pads on the table in front of us. We study the info trying to get a handle on some of the Cerberus tactics, equipment etc. I start to understand why he chucked them across the room in the first place. It is depressing to read the damage they have done when they could have been helping the galaxy. Then I read the reports that have come out of Thessia and how they compare to Palaven, Decuna, Earth, and others. The numbers, all those zeroes, they don't have any real meaning for me because I cannot understand how many lives that is. I feel a migraine worming its way into my brain. I don't leave, because I want to help Shepard with his burden, I don't want him to be alone. It's not long before the waves of pain are making me feel sick.

"Kaidan!"

I look up startled by Shepard's exclamation of my name and I say, "What is it?" But as I say it I feel warmth on my face and mouth. I'm bleeding, I feel dizzy for a moment. And then Shepard's right there, giving me something to mop up the blood. The pain is sickening and I struggle to say, "I'm ok, just a nosebleed."

I try to stand, which was foolish as I wobble unsteadily. Shepard holds my arm and says, "I am taking you to Chakwas, no arguments." And he does, and I don't argue, mainly because the world is going grey with pain.

The Doc medicates me strongly and I doze off. I phase in and out a little. I remember her telling Shepard to leave, not sure why. When the pain is gone and I feel less like a new-born lamb. I sit up a little and the Doc comes over. I have all sorts of manic things going through my mind; I'm worried about what she is going to say, not only to me but to Shepard as well.

"You can relax, Major. I haven't said a word to him… yet. Your answers to my questions will determine that," I nod and she continues, "Have you been drinking coffee?"

"Yes," I say slowly, worried.

"Would you say more than usual?"

I think about it and realise I have been awake a long time and, yeah I had drunk a lot of coffee. "Yeah, more than usual."

"You are going to have to stop drinking so much of it. The caffeine increases heart rate and consequently, your blood pressure. If you feel tired, your 'go to' should be sleep and if you can't sleep, lay in the dark and just get the rest. The caffeine does not like your implant, and your implant doesn't like not getting enough sleep."

"So it's just the coffee?"

She looks at me, annoyed, "No, it's not just the coffee, it's the implant, the lack of rest, the pummelling your head keeps taking, the stress physically, the stress mentally, the grief… do I need to continue?" I shake my head, carefully. "I'm patching you up and sending you back out. Ideally, you'd have your implant upgraded or removed, you'd have bed rest and there is no way in hell I'd let you out on active duty."

"And Shepard?" I ask.

"I think he should know, unless you can think of a reason why I should continue to keep it from him?"

"I don't want to burden him. He has a great deal to worry about and I'd rather not add to it, unless you think I'm incapable of performing my duty."

"I think you are capable, Major. I'll keep it to myself unless Shepard asks me directly."

"Thanks, Doc, I really appreciate that." She shakes her head at me, lectures me about ignoring the signals of a major migraine, and then repeats it all over again.

Before I go back to my quarters, I check with command that I'm not needed for the next few hours and decide to go sleep off the rest of my meds while I still feel dopey. I kinda like the hazy feeling, I feel like I am drifting down to my room. Once there, I change into my nightwear and lower the lights. I like to leave the observational window open; I like to see the starlight bathe the room. It's also something to look at when I am trying to drift off to sleep. I just start to lose myself to sleep when someone is buzzing my door. I get up and open it. I still feel pretty hazy.

"Did I wake you?" Shepard is standing there, tray of food in hand.

"Nope, I was trying and not succeeding," I can't tell him he woke me… he might go away. I let him in.

"Hungry? I wanted to repay the favour from earlier, before our next mission."

"Yeah, thanks." I'm quiet, but that's because I am tired.

We eat undisturbed and we small talk. There's this air in the room, I'm not quite sure what it is but it wakes me up, energises me. I notice Shepard hasn't asked me about my nosebleed, I'm not sure if it's out of politeness or because he is avoiding it in case I am embarrassed. I am a little, stupid lapse in judgement on my part because I wanted to spend time with him. As soon as that thought finishes, I realise Garrus' advice might work both ways. I am being an idiot for Shepard. I need to refocus and reinforce my willpower; I need to remember I'm not what Shepard wants.

"Kaidan?"

"Yeah?" I look up, startled from my train of thought.

"Where are you?" He's smiling a little, at my expense.

I smile, because I've been caught, mind wandering, "Sorry, I'm still a little doped from the meds." Nicely done, avoided answering the question.

Shepard asks, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good, the Doc sorted me out. My own fault, I knew I had a headache coming, I shouldn't have ignored it."

"Glad to hear it, you had me worried for a while there."

"Actually, I was worried about you."

"What do you mean?"

"Thessia," I say simply.

"It was hell and once again, I had to leave it behind, as I did Palaven, as I did Earth." He sits forward resting his elbows on his knees, holding his head with his hands. "It doesn't get easier."

"I think you want to worry if it does get easier." I don't like the look on his face, like he's wrestling something.

"I know, I know. It's just so… It's just that I feel so… Guilty," he doesn't look at me but I hear the break in his voice, as if the emotion caught him by surprise.

I sit next to him; put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze, just to let him know he's not alone. I feel useless in the wake of his sudden flood of feeling. He's not crying, but struggling to hold it all in. It's not a good sign if you can't just let go and cry occasionally. I want to hug him and take the pain away. After a few moments, this is exactly what I do. I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his. I don't say anything, because what can I say? It's not going to get better, it is going to cost blood to win this war, and we aren't even close to being finished yet. Words would be as hollow as I'd feel saying them. The embrace is not remotely sexual, but I feel so much for him, I just want to heal his hurt. Time passes and he regains himself. He lifts his head up and looks directly into my eyes. I can't avoid the eye contact; I am utterly paralyzed. He looks at me for what seems like an eternity, I suppose it wasn't very long at all. He leans slightly forward and for one electric moment, I think he is going to kiss me. I can barely breathe.

"Kaidan?"

"Yes?" My voice is slightly husky, strained with fear and anticipation.

"I… Thank you… you are a good friend to me," he looks away and the moment is broken. I move my arms and give him a couple of manly pats to the back.

There really isn't anything else to say, and Shepard gets up to leave.

"I'll let you catch some shut-eye, Major. See you tomorrow."

I watch the doors shut on his retreating back.

I get up and stand by the window. I dim the lights again and bathe myself in the stars. My mind is racing ahead with ideas and thoughts. I realise now, with crystal clarity, that Garrus is right. I pick up the 'The Primark's Fall' and scroll to a highlighted sentence: 'There can be no victory stronger, than the battles you win against yourself, but there can be no victory sweeter, than the war you win against life'. What I want and what the galaxy needs is the same thing. Just as I fight for what I believe in, I will fight for who I believe in.

I stare at the words, smiling.

I looked into his eyes and for the first time, I saw reflection. I saw the fire.

I feel the silent sea of hope washing upon the shores of possibility.