The only thing we can do when it rains is let it rain.

- Meertle Sorn, Salarian Philosopher

It was raining.

When did it ever rain in Cuba? The best part about this whole damn mission had been the idea of getting out of ships and metal hallways so he could spend a little time in paradise before the worst happened. But was raining and it had been for hours, the entire trip from Havana to this beach outside of Trinidad it had rained like the world was ending. Kaidan shook water from his hair as he scanned the beach surrounding the Normandy. Joker was talking to the newly appointed Admiral Anderson. He kept pointing off into the mist rising between the palm trees that ringed the lagoon.

"He just walked off. Said he'd be back when you guys showed up," Joker shrugged. "To be honest, if he did run, I hope you never find him. Shepard did more good in a couple months than you assholes did in two years and now you want to put him in military prison."

Anderson was talking, explaining. He was good at that now, after a couple years as a politician.

Kaidan frowned. There was a dock for fishing boats a little way down the beach and though the rain and mist obscured the details he thought he saw movement there. He glanced over his shoulder at the guards assembled around Anderson and Joker. They wanted Shepard's arrest to be the textbook version, dress blues, guns in holsters, guards and neutral press shots. Professional, and sterile. Kaidan turned his back on them and headed down the beach himself. He could see footprints along the water line, being washed out by the encroaching tide.

Water ran down his neck and soaked into the lining of his hard suit. Vancouver's rain this time of year was cold and penetrating; it bypassed clothing and settled in the marrow of his bones. Cuba's rain was gentle and warm, it caressed his face, peppered it with tiny wet kisses. He found himself enjoying the walk as he followed the fading footprints down the beach. He found Shepard's boots jammed under the two plank stairs that led up to the dock, their glistening leather now covered with lumps of wet sand. Pools of clothing dotted the dock, Alliance blues complete with medals, under shirt, underwear and socks.

Kaidan stared out over the rain-speckled water of the lagoon and caught sight of movement again. Crimson hair. His stomach twisted alarmingly, and he stopped himself from running the last few feet to the end of the dock. Shepard was a strong swimmer, he cut through the clear blue water with impressive speed. When he reached the dock he pulled up and squinted through the soft rain. His scars were gone for the most part, and his eyes were bluer than the ocean around him, still the bluest things Kaidan had ever seen, and they still had the power to make him feel like he was being electrocuted when they settled on him.

"I never thought I'd be glad to see that stupid haircut," Kaidan said, finally, to break the silence.

Shepard ran his fingers through his hair, pushing strands of it out of his eyes. His eyes and face betrayed nothing. Kaidan wasn't used to being so closed off, Shepard had always been an open book to him. Now he couldn't even tell if he was still angry. He couldn't really tell if Shepard had ever been angry at all, he'd just assumed after everything... it made sense that he would be angry. But he looked perfectly calm.

"I never thought you'd be happy to see any part of me," he said finally. His voice was perfectly mild, composed as flawlessly as his stony, expressionless face. It did nothing to hide the fury seething underneath it; even his mechanical eyes seemed to smoulder as Shepard looked up at him.

"Shepard..." Kaidan sighed.

"You're here to arrest me, Alenko. How did you think I was going to react to this?" Shepard swam over to the ladder and pulled himself up. He was naked of course, and though Kaidan struggled not to react to it the best he could do was make sure Shepard didn't realize he was reacting to it. Shepard scooped up his boxers, soaked through from sitting in the rain, and wrung them out onto the dock.

"I'd hoped you would react like an Alliance officer. What are you doing out here swimming in the rain?" He stared out over the misty water. "Aren't there sharks down there?"

"Probably, but after everything I've seen sharks don't really scare me," he pulled his boxers on and turned to face Kaidan. "The ocean's been the one consistently good thing in my life and it's been either five, or seven, or a million years since I saw it, depending on how you look at it. I wanted to have a swim, you know, before my court martial."

The entire time Kaidan had known Shepard he had been covered in scars. First they had been the tangle of old marks left over from his life on the street. Then they were the scars of whatever Cerberus had done to him, unearthly orange light emanating from their centres. They seemed to have faded now. The worst of them had been on his face, and they were gone now, but laced across his muscular torso and arms there were faint outlines of what must have been extensive injuries. His back and chest was a network of lines, it looked like someone had painted a spider web on him in pale ink, and he had a tattoo now, a two-masted sailboat worked across his chest over the heart with the name 'Harmony' written across the bow in tropical blue ink. As Kaidan watched he rolled his right shoulder and winced as though the action pained him.

"I didn't want this to happen, Shepard. They thought having me here would make it easier," he hated that he felt the need to explain. But this was Shepard. The man that had shaped him, made him who he was, for better or for worse and no matter what he was now... Seeing that look on his face, in his eyes, was like having a knife twisted in his gut. "I didn't want to- I mean..." He sighed with frustration and wiped water off his face. "They thought it would make it easier. For you."

"It doesn't," Shepard informed him curtly.

"If this is about what happened on Horizon-"

"It's not about what you said on Horizon," Shepard presented his hands to him, wrists held together. "Do you want to slap the cuffs on, or can I get dressed first?"

"It's not that kind of arrest," Kaidan grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're not making this any easier on anyone involved. Anderson is half convinced you just ran off."

"Why should I make it easier? You're not worried about me and Anderson, Alenko. You're worried about me and you, and I don't think it's my job to reassure you anymore. In fact, I know it's not. Things are not good between us, Alenko. I'm not okay with how this has turned out and I don't care if that makes you feel bad," Shepard found his t-shirt and gave it the same treatment as his boxers. A puddle formed on the wet dock and ran through the chinks in the planks. "Just like I don't care whether or not the story that runs tomorrow is politically convenient for the Alliance."

"You aren't being fair," Kaidan protested, his temper flaring.

"You chose your side," Shepard shot back.

Kaidan took a step back. He had never seen Shepard actually look angry. Even when they had been fighting side by side, when they'd been facing foes whose dearest desires involved them gutted and spit over a fire, he had met them with a smile and laughter rather than anger. He was angry now, but Kaidan refused to let himself be intimidated by it. Kaidan surged forward and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"I chose my side before I ever met you, Shepard," he said, unable to resist the urge to shove him back, make him turn and have this conversation face to face. He wasn't yelling, he didn't yell, but he was feeling more and more like that was a rule he could put on hiatus. "Do you think I should have betrayed the Alliance for you?"

"I never fought against the Alliance," Shepard put his hand on Kaidan's shoulder and tried to shove him away but he wouldn't be moved. "You decided you didn't trust me, that you didn't want to have anything to do with me. You decided Kaidan, and that's not an opinion. That's what happened. You turned your back on me, literally."

"You disappeared for two years. I was the one who got left behind, Shepard."

"I was dead!" Shepard glared at him. "I was dead, and when I came back everything was different, and everything was terrible, but nothing was worse than you. I thought we were friends, Kaidan! I thought you trusted me. I thought-" He stumbled, breathing hard, and obviously struggled to control whatever he was about to say.

"You thought what?" Kaidan asked. Shepard avoided his eyes. The air between them had changed, picked up a hint of that charge that had lingered between them on the first Normandy. Kaidan's stomach twisted again. He could feel himself reacting to Shepard's proximity in a way he hadn't reacted to anything in two years.

"You know what I thought," Shepard said bitterly. He was trying to turn away now, to escape Kaidan's grip.

"I want to hear you say it," Kaidan insisted, refusing to let him go.

"Tough shit. I think it's about time you didn't get something you want," Shepard replied. He still wouldn't look Kaidan in the eyes.

Kaidan wanted to scream. He wanted to shake him, hit him, hold him, kiss him.

"I never got anything I wanted," he said quietly. His other hand came up and touched Shepard's chin gently, where he used to carry that scar he rubbed when he was thinking deeply. Shepard flinched away from him like he was used to being hit, but he finally looked up again and met Kaidan's eyes.

"Neither did I," he said softly.

They looked at each other, silent for a moment, in the rain. Kaidan's hand was still on his shoulder. His other hand was against Shepard's chin and it seemed to be moving up, across his cheek. Shepard didn't react to the touch. They seemed to be closer than they'd been a moment before. The rain was more insistent now, it turned the Normandy into an unsteady silhouette in the gloom, but it was warm and this far outside the city the air was still sweet. Outside of the patter of rain on the sand and sea it was very quiet all around them.

Kaidan looked away. He could feel something inside him that wanted to believe Shepard. More than he wanted to kiss him, he wanted to believe him. If everything that Shepard had said was true than he hadn't abandoned him, hadn't run off into the wild blue yonder for two years and re-emerged as terrorist lackey with a story too stupid to be taken seriously. If Shepard was telling the truth than everything he'd thought was a lie, the friendship and camaraderie, the laughter, the spark that smouldered in the air between them begging to be touched, to be pulled close between the two of them and nurtured into true fire, all of that was real. All of it was true.

All he had to do was believe him. But he... he didn't. He wasn't sure, so he looked away.

"Shepard-"

"Shut the fuck up."

Shepard commanded and he obeyed. He thought things were different, but it appeared that sometimes, on some levels, some things never changed.

And some things did. Shepard planted both hands on his chest and shoved Kaidan off the edge of the dock. His hardsuit reacted with panic as the sea closed over him, it had been programmed to understand that water over five feet deep and steel armour were a bad, bad combination. In a second, it released every seal and clamp, letting the armour fall off into the water so he could push himself to the surface, sputtering and spitting and ready to kill.

Shepard was already in his dress blues, his boots dangling from one hand as he walked down the beach away from him. Despite what had just happened, and despite the fact he was soaking wet and walking down a beach in formal military attire, he looked serene. Like a man who has never in his life been out of control of a situation. Kaidan grabbed hold of the ladder that led up to the dock and swore quietly and furiously, mostly at himself.

Through it, over it, he could hear Shepard laughing.

The trial was surprisingly painless. He had to wear the hat, and he hated the hat. The judge also, clearly, had some sort of issue with him which probably should have worried him but didn't. He okayed microphones and cameras in the first twenty minutes, and smirked down at Shepard as they flooded into the courtroom while Anderson fumed beside him. Shepard probably should have been worried, but he wasn't. Sharks and Collectors hadn't scared him, a fat man in an ugly costume wasn't going to make him break a sweat.

The worst part was when Kaidan took the stand. They hadn't spoken, or made eye contact, since Shepard had pushed him off the dock in Cuba. At the time, and afterward in the shuttle as they made their way back to Havana to catch a real plane with both of them dripping saltwater, it had seemed really funny. Looking back on it, he recognized it for what it was. Petty, and cruel, and a defense mechanism.

He shouldn't have done it. He should have apologized. But it was too late, and he was pretty sure that Alenko had enough dirt on him to undermine the whole trial. Up until he watched Kaidan climb the steps to the stand and swear himself in he had been very confident, ready for anything. Now it felt like his heart was trying to climb out of his mouth. He sat forward in his seat, his face going still and serious. People noticed, it was quite distinct compared to the lazy smile he'd been wearing through the proceedings up to this point.

Kaidan knew things about him, knew more than anyone else in the galaxy, and it would surely cause a scandal were he to reveal certain things about his past. More than that, the thought of everyone knowing about it was... uncomfortable. It twisted his stomach around into a hard knot of agony, to be honest, and he tasted bile in the back of his mouth as Kaidan took his hat off and folded it on his lap. A cold sweat was prickling the back of his neck.

He was not a self-conscious man. He found it was better to be self-aware, and he had studied himself at such depth that he was very aware of his own flaws and limitations. Meditation had helped with that, and he felt more centered than ever, still and calm in the midst of madness. The thought of everyone knowing, EVERYONE because of the damn cameras he hadn't cared less about until that moment, made him want to sink into the floor and disappear. It wasn't just the murder, which was certainly bad enough, or the drugs which still had the power to make his veins throb with a mixture of revulsion and sick longing. Things had happened to him in Trinidad that he'd never in his life told anyone else about, and the thought of strangers knowing that about him was the first truly frightening thing he'd faced since his first moments on the Lazarus table. He'd thought he wasn't afraid of anything anymore, but now he knew differently.

Their eyes met just once, almost by accident, and Shepard knew that Kaidan could see the fear clawing at him despite his sincere effort to hide it. Kaidan had always been far too adept at reading his moods.

Then the questions began. Soft at first, about their days on the SR1, and Kaidan gave perfect military answers, short and clipped and volunteering nothing he wasn't asked for. Shepard felt his heart slowly return to its proper place inside him. He began to feel a little safer. Then, from nowhere it seemed, the questioner rounded on Kaidan like a wolf.

"Did Commander Shepard ever do or say anything that would cause you to doubt his mental stability?"

"No," Kaidan replied after a moment. "I've never known Commander Shepard to be anything less than capable, intelligent and decisive."

"What about when that video clip surfaced just after Commander Shepard... commandeered an Alliance frigate?" The man had an oily look to him, as though he would be slightly slimy to the touch, and he was sweating through his blues even in the relatively temperate room.

"I asked Shepard about it, and he gave me what I felt to be an adequate explanation. To my knowledge he was never anything less than entirely sane," Kaidan gave the man a cool look, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

"And what exactly was that reason?"

"Objection," Shepard's advocate chimed in, "hearsay is not admissible here."

"Sustained," the judge waved for them to move on.

The questioner scowled, but moved on. "So you never knew Commander Shepard to be anything less than capable, intelligent and decisive? If that's true why did you accuse him of treason when you met him on Horizon?"

Of course he had submitted a record of that conversation to the Alliance. Kaidan was a soldier to his bones, and an unexpectedly large part of being a successful one was being very good at paperwork. Shepard squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, unsure of how much of the subtext of that conversation had translated to transcript form.

"Even smart men can be wrong," Kaidan replied stonily. "And I... was shocked to see him alive. My reaction wasn't entirely level-headed."

"So... you don't think he's a traitor."

Kaidan paused, long enough for the silence to become uncomfortable. They did not lock eyes. They didn't even look at each other, as far as Shepard was concerned there was an empty hole in the world where Kaidan Alenko was supposed to be.

"I wouldn't use that word, no," he said finally. "I've seen the evidence, what happened with the relay and what they found in the Collector base. The Alliance, and humanity, needed him and Shepard did what was asked of him. I may not agree with his methods, but I don't question his motives. And he never took up arms against the Alliance."

The rest of the trial was pretty straight forward. As Hackett had predicted, the evidence supporting any image of him as a traitor and genocidal maniac was skimpy at best. Shepard stared at the table, trying and failing not to think about Kaidan. His acquittal was... fine. Kaidan did not attend court after being allowed to step down and Shepard hadn't seen him since.

The closest bar to the base where the court martial had been held was a well-appointed tavern-style establishment with a mercifully empty karaoke stage and enough customers that Shepard could step back and get lost in the noise and movement. He drank efficiently, prying fingers of darkness out of himself one by one. He couldn't afford to get bogged down in all this shit. Pouting about it wasn't going to make it alright.

"Are you Commander Shepard?"

He looked up. The interloper was slumming it in civilian clothes but exuded military out of every pore on his body. He looked curious and carried a couple fresh drink in one hand, and a small cocky smile was curling the corner of his mouth. He was tall, dark and handsome.

Shepard smiled back.

"Sure am," he eyed the drinks. "Is one of those for me?"

"Sure," he slid it over to him and Shepard recognized the dark, smoky colour of good bourbon. "I heard you got acquitted. You know, on the news. Congratulations."

"Thanks," Shepard narrowed his eyes at the other man slightly.

"I was ah, on Elysium. When it happened. My parents and I lived in the West quarter," he sat down on the stool beside him. "I, hah, actually saw you there. I was sixteen at the time, never knew what I wanted to do with my life until I saw you smoking Batarian pirates with your guys."

Shepard understood. The West quarter was where the ships had started turning down and been written off by the Alliance brass. The other man cleared his throat nervously, as though he wasn't exactly sure how Shepard would react to that statement. He seemed like a nice kid though, not a Conrad Verner type, and Shepard just raised the offered glass to him in thanks.

"It was my pleasure," he said, "how many people get to say they love what they do?"

They clinked glasses, and their eyes lingered as they drank. Shepard realized with sudden certainty exactly how easy this was going to be and smiled to himself, letting an icecube slip past his lips so he could crunch it between his teeth with relish.

The heart could want what it wanted, and do battle with the body all it wanted but there were some things that just went too deep to be ignored. It had been eight months of service on the Fringe, four months of fighting as a Spectre, a death spanning two years, and then another three months on top of that. Too long. Sometimes, you've just got to scratch where it itches.

"What's your name?" Shepard asked, leaning forward slightly and draining the rest of his glass.

"Jeremy." His eyes were playful, fully aware of what was about to happen here.

"I'm Trinidad."