Author's Note: I will be out of the country for roughly the next six weeks(beginning of July ~ mid August), in an area with limited internet access. If I am able to I will upload more chapters. If not, I'll be back soon and please enjoy this chapter.

"James."

His name rolled over her like a soothing balm, a clear sky after sailing through a storm and she released a breath she hadn't known she was holding. It was cliché how he made her feel but she'd given up denying her feelings long ago. It had been just as long since she'd seen the rest of her crew but looking at him now made it feel like it had been years. It had been so long since she had allowed herself to be like this, so hopelessly lost, infatuated. Like some kind of puppy.

He looked as wonderful as ever: at ease posture, broad shoulders, strong jaw. Lieutenant James Vega was the physical embodiment of an ideal Alliance soldier. Most people wrote him off as some shallow jarhead but Shepard knew he was steadfast, charismatic, and above all empathetic. She'd come to trust him more than she'd thought possible. In those first few weeks of checking in during her trial she'd been guarded and cold, a way to work through the hurt of the entire experience but he'd never treated her like some criminal. By the time of the invasion the idea of parting ways had a lonesome pang filling her chest.

Luckily he'd been able to join her on the Normandy and she'd gotten a chance to know him outside of her incarceration. He'd been much more jaded about his Alliance career than she'd noticed. Shepard could understand that anger, that disappointment, but she'd fought to bring him back from the brink. James had the rest of his life ahead of him, a chance to right his self-perceived wrongs, while she had been certain of her eventual death. Through all the bravado and flirting James continued to grow over the next few months.

He'd been there by her side through her tough decisions, too, whenever she needed him. Most of the time without even asking. Admittedly it was because he was already there when the tough times came along, she'd brought him along on most of the big-ticket missions and he'd never refused her invitations. He was always there to hand her a spare thermal clip, to cover her until her shields recharged, to offer reassuring words after seeing the disaster that was Thessia.

She would have gone for him, too, if he hadn't been so in love with the regs. Damn the regs. They were in the middle of a war that they had little hope of winning yet he wasn't going to give up his code of ethics. It made her bristle at the memory of it all. James flirted like it was going out of style but nothing was going to come from it. Towards the end of everything, especially during their brief and forced shore leave that had gone wrong, Shepard had to keep herself away from the Lieutenant. How could she keep herself in check when they were in the same room and he had those stupid muscles and that stupid smile and that stupid ability to read her at the drop of a hat? Talk about sexual frustration.

She slammed back to the present, away from her libido that had finally seemed to stir awake after a year, and smiled brightly. James was here. James was wearing a suit. God bless America. She wasn't sure what possessed her to do it but she held her arms out in front of her and moved forward. A panicked part of her brain was just about screaming, wondering what the hell she was doing, that the most she had ever come into physical contact with James was a slap on the shoulder or sparring. She didn't stop, they weren't at war anymore and she wasn't his superior anymore. Commit, soldier!

Luckily, he didn't seem thrown-off by her actions. He opened his own arms, laughing, and pulled her in close. Hugging James was a bit more difficult than expected. He was just… there was just so much of him to try to hold! Shepard was just glad that she'd reached upwards in the last seconds before contact since wrapping her arms around his neck would be easier than his torso. Her cheek rested against the smooth fabric of his tux and here she could smell his aftershave and cologne: cool and herby with an undertone of some spice combination.

"Lookin' good, boss."

Shepard focused on the pressure of his arms around her waist, how intimate this gesture felt. "Not your boss anymore, Vega."

She felt him nod against her head. "Sorry. Habit I guess."

With a chuckle and a pat on his shoulders she released her grip. Even with her heels on she'd had to reach upwards and her calf muscles were protesting against her will. Shepard sighed happily; the final piece in the puzzle of the Normandy crew was here.