Note: I reworked this chapter a lot, so here you go with a re-submission.

03

The Normandy was almost to Illium for a final supply run when EDI requested that travel be suspended. The Reaper IFF was nearing employment readiness and she insisted on some final tests being run, without risk of damaging the ship's other systems. She advised the crew to take the shuttle for the remainder of the journey. The Normandy's combat crew was more than happy to leave and secure whatever they needed planetside, personal or otherwise. Taking the shuttle made it seem more like shore leave and less like the last stop to suicide.

When the shuttle touched down in Nos Astra, everyone went their separate ways. Miranda took Jacob to go catch up with her Cerberus contacts. Grunt decided to purchase his "last meal" at a souvenir kiosk which sells exotic fish. Tali and Garrus went to see a movie. Mostly everyone else went to go make personal calls or acquire supplies. And Shepard made way with Zaeed to the bar.

Omega was one of the other options for the supply run but most of the crew didn't think the danger was worth it. Having the Omega 4 Relay so close by was also a bit disheartening, though it would have made for a shorter trip. The Citadel was another option but it held too many memories for the crew, and the Commander thought it was fucking awful place in general, so Illium was next on the list. As for the bar, Eternity wasn't at all like the seedy watering holes of the Terminus Systems that they usually frequented. But still, it had booze.

Shepard headed for the back room and Zaeed went to fetch two "mystery drinks" from the bar. They were both pretty sure it was just a generic mixed drink with coloring additives to trick the tourists into paying more. But shots and honeyed mead didn't really seem to fit the occasion. Shepard sat on the edge of the couch in the far corner of the back room. Through the window she could watch the shuttles fly past glittering office buildings and lush apartments. For a moment she imagined that she wasn't Commander Shepard, the first human SPECTRE, Savior of the Citadel and Vanguard of the Galaxy. She imagined if just that last title wasn't true, if she had died and stayed dead. The thud of a tumbler on the table brought her back from the edges of her grim thoughts. Zaeed took the seat across from her.

"What's on your mind, Shep?"
"I don't keep you around to ask me questions, Massani," she took her eyes off the window and picked up the glass, "Or for your good looks."
He laughed, "Then what do you keep me around for?"
"Your cheery disposition, of course," She shrugged and smiled, taking a sip of her drink.

Shepard's expression narrowed as she looked into the colored liquid, almost sure it was some different drink from the last time they were here. Not to be fazed, she shrugged again and downed the whole glass, resting it heavily on the table afterwards. The mercenary had a quick laugh and finished his own drink as well, standing up to go fetch two more.

Ever since the Collector ship, even the first night after her resurrection, Shepard had been developing nightmares and imaginations that seemed to grow worse the closer they got to the suicide mission. Chakwas had advised her strictly against alcohol. Biotics can metabolize alcohol more quickly than others but this leads them to think they can drink excessively more, greatly increasing their risk of alcohol poisoning. So Chambers tried her best with therapy but talking about it just seemed to be making it worse. Jack offered sparring but Joker didn't like the idea of two "crazy" biotics tearing up his ship. Jacob suggested getting a pet; Shepard suggested a Varren but Grunt was the only crew member who agreed. And then during some quick down time on Omega, Zaeed bought her a drink. It was the only thing that really helped when her thoughts threatened to overtake her. She was very careful and the occasional drunken night after stressful missions didn't seem to be affecting her performance.

They'd finished their second round and started in on a third when Shepard finally decided to speak up.
"Hey, Massani. Thanks."
Talking wasn't their usual custom so it took him a while for the words to register.
"What in the hell for?"
"Hm? What did I say earlier?"
He laughed, "How come you get to ask all the fucking questions?"
"Because your job is to throw the grenades and tell awful bedtime stories."
"Yes ma'am," he smirked, "And you're welcome."

Shepard considered making sure he knew what she was thanking him for. But she wasn't sure herself, really. He was a hell of a soldier. The Commander always made sure the mercenary was watching her back and the irony of it was never lost on her. She trusted him as much as Garrus and Jack to get a job done. He was always ready, always prepared for every mission and every drunken adventure. He seemed to be one of the only members on her team that believed the ends sometimes justified the means. He knew what sacrifice meant. He didn't question her.

Before Shepard could form the words to speak, a voice came over the emergency channel.
"Commander, report to the shuttle immediately!"
The two drinking companions exchanged a brief look of surprise before springing into action.
She responded as they rushed toward the exit, "Lawson, report."
The operative's voice was uncharacteristically haggard, "Commander, we've received a distress signal. The Normandy has been attacked. If it's the Collectors… We have to hurry!"

The two had double-timed to the shuttle bay and saw the rest of the crew hurriedly boarding with their supplies. All was prepped and ready to go. Miranda assisted Zaeed and the Commander onto the hovering shuttle before the doors closed and it immediately took off.

The shuttle ride was gravely silent, an air of tension and trepidation forcing everyone's mouths closed. Shepard sat next to Zaeed in one corner of the shuttle, nightmares and terrible imaginings coming further to the front of her mind the nearer they drew to the Normandy. The three drinks had only made her mind a little fuzzy, a little more susceptible. Shepard remembered the first time her ship was attacked by Collectors. She remembered it all too well. Her eyes focused on the floor, her hands began to tremble, her breath quickened. Hyperventilation might have been the next step if Zaeed had not laid a hand on her shoulder. She turned to meet his eyes and was met with that stern and concerned look. Shepard took a deep breath to regain her composure, straightening up and giving him a small smile. Zaeed returned the smile with a quick nod and removed his hand. He never took his eye off of her after that.