Present: Sweet Tangerine
Shepard and Ashley glared at each other.
"Kathy's a touchy subject, is she?" Ashley said nastily. "Fifty credits says she's not along on this little family jaunt. Too bad, I'd love to say hello to her. You'll tell her that I miss her for me when you get home though, won't you?"
"Maybe you didn't hear me before: you don't get to talk about Red! You and I, we're not friends anymore, Williams."
"You've got that right. I'm not friends with self-absorbed, self-pitying recluses."
"And I'm not friends with arrogant marines who think because they used to know you, they know everything about you!" Shepard held up his left hand, spreading the fingers wide, so Ashley could get a good look at the empty stretch of skin where his wedding ring used to be. "You're right about one thing though, Williams. I don't like talking about Red. Divorce is always a touchy subject," he sneered, taking a perverse pleasure in the guilty expression that spread over Ashley's face.
His satisfaction evaporated as Ashley began apologizing. "I—Shepard, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'm still angry at you, but I wouldn't have—that was below the belt. Oh, God, I'm such a bitch sometimes…."
"Watch your language, Chief," he interrupted reflexively.
"Sorry, sir," Ashley's response was as automatic as Shepard's rebuke.
Shepard and Ashley stared at each other.
Old habits die hard, I guess. It had been more than ten years since Ashley had been gunnery chief on the Normandy SR-1, with Shepard as her CO. It had been even longer since Kyle and Valentine Shepard had drilled it into their son that swearing, under any circumstances, was unacceptable.
Shepard pulled his shoulders back. "Sorry," he said gruffly, "Didn't mean to give you an order."
"Must be hard, being a civilian. Not being able to give orders."
Something that might have eventually become a smile flickered across Shepard's face. "I give plenty of orders. The only ones who listen are the dogs."
"Dogs?"
"Herd dogs. They're more like extra hands than pets most of the time."
"Hands?"
"Ranch hands. I've got one guy who helps out with the work. He's looking after things at home while I'm here."
Ashley considered Shepard for a minute. "I'm sorry; Shepard, are we not fighting anymore? Because, like I said, I'm still angry at you."
"Good. I'm still angry at you. You promised me that we would stay—After I left the Alliance, it was like I was as good as dead to you. No calls, no vidmails, no emails…." Shepard glowered at the empty space over Ashley's shoulder. "Who treats someone like that?"
"You're a real piece of work, Shepard. Do you remember me saying I was ready to be friends right away?" Ashley pulled her eyebrows together in a familiar expression of aggravation. "You—I—We broke up, and three days later you sit down next to me in the mess for lunch like, what? Like nothing had changed? I don't know about you, but I needed time, and space, and you wouldn't give me any!"
"I'd say that you've had plenty of time. Nine years? You never even responded to a Christmas card… and don't tell me that you didn't get them. We always sent yours to Liara; I knew she'd know how to get them to you."
"Liara? You couldn't find my address so you had the Shadow Broker mail your damn Christmas cards to me? I guess that explains that. In all seriousness, Shepard, you can't think of a reason I might not be thrilled to get a picture of your kids every year?"
"I can."
"Why do it then?"
"Why do you come back here every year?"
"You keep asking me that. I already told you why I come here. What do you want me to say?"
"Tell me something that isn't a line, Ash." Shepard turned away from her and stared as far as he could into the semi-darkness. "Tell me—tell me that you come here because you miss… being friends."
"Is that really what you want me to tell you?"
"…No."
"I didn't think so," Ashley said sadly. "We were never just friends, were we?"
"We could be."
Ashley gave a quick and bitter laugh. "Don't kid yourself, Shepard. Just be friends? You don't really want that, any more than I do."
"Yes, I—What?"