Disclaimer: Mass Effect doesn't belong to me, nor do I intend to profit from this work of fiction.
"Liara, Shepard is dead," Kaidan informed the asari curtly, annoyed at her presence in his office.
"Yes, but what if-" Liara began.
"What part of she got spaced do you refuse to believe? Joker saw it himself, the poor bastard," Kaidan exploded at her, his normally cool temper fractious at her insinuations that maybe Shepard wasn't dead, or that she could be brought back if she was. "What you are suggesting is impossible," he finished quietly, dismissively, finally.
"But my contacts say it could be possible, please, Kaidan. You have to trust me on this," Liara pleaded desperately.
"Liara, you're a sweet kid, but no. I can't." He pushed away from his desk, and stood, "If you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with Anderson in a few minutes."
She stared at him for a long time before she shook her head and wordlessly left. He frowned and wished he could believe her. He would give anything to have Shepard back with him. Anything.
This wasn't the first time she had come to him with this half-cocked story, of a secret organization that had the resources to bring his love back to life. It was too far-fetched, but obviously Liara believed it.
Pondering what to do with this knowledge, he looked down at the framed picture of Shepard on his desk. He stroked her cheek through the glass, and sighed. She had been so happy when that particular photo had been taken, crawling out of the Mako, and glowing smile on her face as her eyes fixed on him across the bay. It had been six long, endless months. Six months of sleepless night and constant migraines. Anderson had insisted he take an administrative leave, and he was forced to ride a desk and teach classes to biotic recruits in the meantime.
He enjoyed the teaching, and his students were eager to learn what he had to teach them, but he dearly missed working in the field. He glanced at the picture again, and suddenly angry, with himself and with Shepard for leaving him too soon, he slammed the frame face down, heard the tinkle of breaking glass.
He scowled, and made a mental note to stock up on energy bars when his stomach growled at him. He was constantly lecturing his students on the importance of feeding their biotic metabolisms, and he wasn't doing the same. He made the decision, then and there, to stop wallowing in grief and self-pity, and to make something of himself, to become the soldier Shepard had always told him he could be.
'What better way to work out his frustration than pumping iron at the gym?' he thought to himself, and gathered the various datapads he would need for his meeting. In spite of himself, he turned the frame back over, and spoke to her, as had become somewhat of a habit over the past few months, "I'm going to live for you, Shepard," he whispered, and put the frame away in a drawer. It wasn't doing him any good on his desktop.