Chapter 31

Shepard sat in his cabin, staring at his last bottle of whiskey. I guess I should get more when we get to the Citadel. At any other time, that errant thought would have brought a brief smile to his lips; but right now, his face was locked into an expressionless mask.

As soon as he reached his cabin, he had done some basic navigational computations and come to the determination that he had just enough time to get absolutely blitzed before the Normandy would arrive at the Citadel. Immediately upon arriving at that conclusion, he had pulled out his final bottle of liquor. In the ten minutes between then and now, however, he had just sat in his chair, staring at the bottle in silence.

Shepard's mind was racing, even though his body was fixed and immobile. This had always been his reaction whenever his mind was wrestling with a complex problem. Some men paced, others talked through their thoughts, still others fidgeted rhythmically; Spike just went still and turned his focus inward.

That fucking bitch- no. I don't know what she is, but bitch is too good a word for her. There is no part of that conversation that wasn't full to bursting with piles of bullshit and self-righteous posturing. Fuck her. Although I certainly won't be the one doing so. Not now. Maybe we could have someday, but no fucking way in hell is my dick going anywhere near that self-centered whatever-she-is ever! Plus she has the balls to say she thinks I'm sleeping with somebody else! Why the hell does she think I have new scars practically every time I return from a mission, and am fucking dead on my feet? What the hell does she think I'm doing, exactly? Fucking my way through the colonies, one world at a time? And the women I bang are all into S&M, which would explain the scarring. How full of shit can one person's fucking head be?

How in the great blue hell did Brian come out of that family so fucking normal? His dad was a ginormous prick, who looked down on everybody just because he saw action in the First Contact War. No shit, Sherlock. So did my parents. Doesn't make you better than them. Brian's mom seemed like she might be halfway decent, but she always looked at me wrong. Like I was a goddamn piece of meat or some shit like that. I wonder if she was a nympho or something? In which case, I really don't understand why her husband would have his fucking panties in a bunch. She was stacked for an older lady! Hah, maybe he was always in a bad mood 'cause he couldn't satisfy her so she had to take her business elsewhere. And his sister . . . pretty on the eyes just like her mom, but with a definite complex, just like her asshole of a father.

God damn it! Why did Brian have to die? If he'd still been alive, none of this would have happened. There's no way he would have let anything happen between his sister and me, and I wouldn't a fought him on it. Nothing could make me risk losing Brian as a friend. Then those goddamn batarian bastards had to bring their fucking shit to Elysium. I was on vacation, damn it! But Spike isn't allowed his fucking time off, oh no. Instead, the batarians and their little pirate butt-buddies decide to try to show the Alliance who's the boss. Yeah, you really showed us, you fucking cuntburgers. A whole lotta you sure as hell showed me what your fucking insides looked like. Not enough of you, though. I couldn't kill enough of you. One of you still managed to kill him.

God, Brian, that was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. That damn med-scan showed all the internal bleeding, and all I could do was sit there and tell you that you'd be fine. Lying through my fucking teeth, keeping all the emotion off my face, and watching you fade away. I wonder if you knew how bad things were? I think you did. You were so peaceful at the end. I put down the bastard that killed you, though. I managed to avoid going out the same way you did, and then damn near decapitated him with my knife. I still have that one, Brian. The weapon of your vengeance is the only knife I've kept over the years. I found a little case for it, and I carry it with me in my duty bag. Just like I carry your memory.

I miss you, man. So fucking much. I know you woulda gone N7 with me, and together we could be out there fucking Saren's shit up. But now it's just me; your family's gone, and your sister's dead to me, and it's like the weight of remembering you just quadrupled. It feels like it's just me, now. Trying to do alone what we could have done together. I'm sorry I said all those things about your sister, dude. She just got me riled up. I tried to do right by her, Brian, I really did. But she just couldn't see that I have to give everything I've got to the Alliance, because it's all I've got left of you. You were my best friend, Brian. My only friend, for the longest time. I've got Tali as a friend now, but it's not the same. She's so young! And innocent. I might also be able to get two other friends outta this Spectre thing too: Joker and Garrus. Garrus fucking Vakarian; a goddamn turian! The Spike you knew never woulda been caught "fraternizing with the enemy" but I've changed. I think I'm a better man than the one you knew, Brian. I hope you'd like who I am, if you were here now.

Shepard finally broke his silent vigil and reached for the bottle of whiskey. He twisted the cap off, and raised it over his head in a salute. "Here's to you, Brian." He said, before taking one long pull of the harsh amber liquid. In silence he put the top back on the bottle and hid it away. Then, with his mood starting to swing upwards for the first time since he reached Arcturus Station, Shepard lay back down on his bed and closed his eyes.

"Commander?" Joker's hesitant voice brought Shepard out of his first restful sleep in weeks. While the nightmarish images of death and destruction had still chased each other through his mind, they seemed duller somehow, without their normal gut-wrenching intensity. Thanks, Brian. Shepard thought to himself. While he didn't necessarily believe in God, he hoped that if there were an afterlife, his friend would have found a nice corner of it in which to take up residence. And Shepard knew that Brian would do his best to help out, even from beyond the grave.

"What's up, Joker?" Shepard's almost-friendly voice took Joker by surprise.

"Um, just wanted to let you know we're an hour out from the Citadel."

"Thanks." Shepard sat up from his bed and went to take a shower. After cleaning himself up and putting on a clean set of casuals, he headed up to the CIC. Looking around, he found XO Pressly and made his way over to the man. "Pressly." Shepard said, catching the older man's attention.

"Commander." Pressly snapped into a salute, to which Shepard answered with one of his own. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"I'd like you to draw up a schedule for the next week's leave, please. However, I want everyone to have a full 24 hours away from this ship sometime during the first three days. I was thinking we could go to an absolute skeleton crew during however long it takes to get everybody their 24."

"I'll get right on it, Commander." Pressly started running through possible permutations of crew rosters. "Oh. Do you want me to work your ground team into the rotation?"

"No." Shepard shook his head. "I've been running them ragged the last month or so. I'm giving them the full week."

"Understood. Would you like this ready before we dock at the Citadel, sir?"

Shepard smiled. "You're one hell of an XO, Pressly. Those mind-reading capabilities must make it easy for you, huh?"

Pressly smiled at the compliment. "Thank you, sir." He gave Shepard another salute, correctly interpreting that their conversation was over.

Shepard responded with a salute of his own, and then walked off to watch Joker bring the Normandy in to the Citadel.

The next five days passed in a blur. Shepard spent as much time as he could sleeping, but made sure to spend at least one meal a day with his ground team, and another meal with the crew at large. He also tried to get in some individual time with Ashley, Liara, Tali, Kaidan, Wrex, and Garrus. He spent that one-on-one time just getting to know them better, and learn about what made them who they were. Those were some of the best times Shepard could remember since Brian died. Even Ashley seemed to be getting over some of her more annoying xenophobic tics; at least, she wasn't making thinly veiled insults to every alien in sight anymore.

Knowing that he might not be on the Citadel again for some time, Shepard went out shopping one day, looking for anything that could give his team an edge. His first stop was Barla Von, to make sure he had enough money to actually buy something nice. When he left the diminutive financial genius's office, he had to rest his arm against a nearby wall. Christ! That little bastard's amazing! I was just trying to get to "well off," but he blew right through that and made me rich. How the hell did he manage to get me more than seven million credits already? I need to take that little guy to dinner or something. He's fucking awesome!

Since he was near the financial markets, he decided to check in with Delan, and see if the hanar had any new toys in stock. After quickly browsing the jellyfish's offerings, he stopped in for a chat with Dr. Michel. Sometime later, Shepard departed from the clinic with schematics for a top-of-the-line medical exoskeleton weave and an idea of what the good doctor liked in her men. I can't believe she's got the hots for Garrus. Well, I guess I can believe it, the guy's almost as badass as me, but there's just so much potential for taking the piss outta Garrus that I can't believe she told me that. He chuckled to himself while he made his way down to C-Sec, to check in with his favorite C-Sec requisitions officer.

"Hey Viagho, how're you doing? How's the bondmate?" Shepard asked as he walked, practically bounced, actually, into the dismal room.

"Hello Shepard." Viagho smiled at seeing Shepard again. I don't know what it is about this human, but his personality is electric. When he's in a good mood, he's practically infectious. "She's doing quite well. Armax recently sent her to Oma Ker to try to push some of the hunting shops there into stocking some of the more expensive Punishers."

"Oh really? Anything I would be interested in?"

"Not if you're still using that HMWSR VII you purchased from me last time. Even Armax's top-of-the-line Punisher can't dish it out like Spectre gear."

"Huh, that's too bad. I was really looking forward to gracing you with my credits today."

"Not to worry, Spectre. I just got a new line of weapons that should be well worth those hard-earned credits."

"Well, don't keep me in suspense. Let's see it!" Shepard exclaimed.

The turian got up from his desk and went in the stock room, coming back out with a thick black case. He set it down on the surface of the table, and put a talon on each lock.

"Now Shepard, you remember my rules, correct?"

"Yes, yes, yes. Looking but no touching in case the weapon has a biometric sensor. Now stop teasing me and pop that lid!" Shepard was rubbing his hands together like a famished man about to partake in a Christmas feast.

Laughing to himself, Viagho slowly undid the clasps on the case, and then lifted the lid back, revealing a matte black, compacted sniper rifle.

Smiling like a kid on Christmas morning, Shepard started reaching for the box, only to pull his hands back when he remembered Viagho's rules.

"It's beautiful. What model is it?"

"It's the best rifle you can find anywhere in the galaxy. A HMWSR X," Viagho replied with what looked like a grin of his own, "which is 20% more powerful than your little VII. And, it is nicely complemented by the HMWSG X, HMWA X, and HMWP X, which I also have."

"You have more of these?" Shepard asked incredulously.

"Well, no, actually, I only have the one set of the Xs right now. But I do have the full set."

"Alright Viagho, you've got me hooked. What's it gonna cost me to be able to put my greedy little hands all over these beauties?"

"Well, they won't come cheap, unfortunately. The whole set costs 3.5 million credits."

Shepard's had to remind himself to breathe after hearing that piece of news. "Wow. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that. How much for just the SR and the pistol?"

"The SR is 1.1 million credits, the pistol is 600,000 credits. The AR and shotgun are both 900,000 credits."

"Hmm. I want those like a fat kid wants cake, but -"

"What did you say?" Viagho asked, unsure if he had heard the human correctly.

"What?" Shepard asked, distracted from his train of thought.

"What's a 'kid,' and what's 'cake?'"

"Oh," Shepard said laughing, "the expression is an old Earth saying. It's basically saying that I want those a lot."

"I see. Why didn't you just say that then?"

"It just has a little more weight than 'I want that.' To me, at least." Viagho nodded his agreement. Smiling still, Shepard continued. "So, as, I was saying, I want those, a lot, but I'm actually supposed to be getting weapons and mods for my whole ground team, and these alone would take up most of my budget."

"The Alliance makes you actually buy your own weapons? They don't just reimburse you for what you spend?" Viagho couldn't believe what he was hearing. Shepard's answering chuckle was answer enough. "On Palaven, soldiers get the tools they need to do the job. Especially the elite, special operations types: it's the absolute best for them and nothing else."

Shepard smiled warmly at being called "elite," then shrugged. "The Alliance provides the supplies for the ship, like fuel, food, etcetera, as well as basic weapons. However, I'm noticing that the closer I get to finishing my mission, the bigger and stronger all the nasties seem to be. And most of them are not impressed with a Kedar Avenger, which is what the Alliance bean-counters are willing to give me."

Viagho thought about the Avengers he'd seen some operatives use, and shook his head sadly. "That makes sense, I guess. But Avengers? One of those couldn't put down a salarian with a toothache." I don't even want to think about the kinds of things Saren is likely to have protecting him. I don't think the VII series is going to be enough. "Maybe we can make a deal, Shepard."

"I'm listening." The turian C-Sec officer had the human Commander's full attention now.

"You've always been pretty nice to me. Most of the Spectres come in here and want things done 'right now,' and treat me as if I'm just in their way. You, on the other hand, always ask about my family, how I'm doing, and you seem to give a damn. What if I could get you the whole X series, and get them outfitted with mods, for the 3.5 million. Would that doable?"

"That's amazing, Viagho. Are you sure you can do that? I mean, we're friends and all, but I don't want you getting in trouble just to do me a favor."

"It's not a problem, Shepard. The council races have deals worked out with C-Sec to get them discounts on their requisitions. I'll just 'forget' that you're a human Spectre, and put your order down as a general Spectre requisition. The Council won't care."

"That would be great, Viagho. And thanks, it means a lot to me. But just in case, if somebody starts giving you trouble about it, tell them I threatened you with my big scary Spectre act."

"Fair enough, Spectre. So what do you want on the Xs?"

"Hmm, let's see. How about a Scram Rail on the SR and shotgun, Frictionless Materials on the shotgun and pistol, a Kinetic Coil on the pistol, AR, and SR, and some Combat Optics on the pistol. And I'll pay a little extra to make sure those mods are X models. It'd be a crime to put anything less on these beautiful weapons."

"Don't worry, Spectre. Only the best tech will touch your new HMWs. Do you want any ammo mods?"

"Yes! Can you put an inferno mod in the pistol, snowblind mod on the AR, sledgehammer mod on the shotgun, and a high explosive mod in the SR? And make them all X models, please."

"Certainly. Remind me never to get in your way. With that sniper rifle, you could probably take down a cruiser from orbit. Do you want this delivered to the Normandy, or do you want to pick it up?"

"I'll come by to pick it up. Can I set the biometrics then?"

"Of course. I'll send this over to the gunsmith; he should be done in a couple of hours."

"Thanks. I'll come back in . . . 3 hours?"

"It will be done."

"Excellent. Thanks a lot, and see you then, Viagho."