Love is the strongest thing in the universe, because it transforms us and makes us more than we were before. You have never been human if you have never loved someone more than yourself, you have only been a very clever sort of animal.

- Sondra Kendel, Human Diplomat

Shepard dreamed.

He was laying in his back, looking up a cracked concrete ceiling that dripped blood-warm drops of dirty water. The air was thick and rancid and hot, it pressed down on his chest and made it unpleasant to breathe. He knew every stain and crack on that ceiling intimately, like a child knows his mothers face. Shepard sat up and the greasy foam mattress he had been laying on peeled off his skin with a wet, sticky sound.

He looked around the windowless cell and spotted the child in the corner, squatting on his heels with his chest pressed down against his knees. He had both arms thrown over his head like he was defending himself from an attack, but the room was empty aside from the two of them.

The boy was filthy. He was dressed in a ragged t-shirt that was several sizes too large for his wasted frame and the sinewy arms that stuck out of its ragged sleeves were streaked with oily dirt and runnels of putrid sweat. The pits of his elbows were red and swollen, injection sites leaking yellow puss as the infections set in. His bare feet were scarred by years of running barefoot through broken glass and garbage, tough as tree bark and dirtier than the floor he crouched on. He stank of sweat and vomit and desperation. He was pathetic.

"I know this room," Shepard said. He could hear the ambient squalor of Trinidad through the walls, hear the screaming and gunshots that never seemed to stop. He could smell the poverty in the air, the smell of filth and disease and death. "I grew up in this room."

It was strange to say it, to actually realize it after all these years of taking it for granted. He recognized the child as surely as he did this room. This was where everything had begun for him, where he had realized that he was sick and evil and doomed. It was the birthplace of his deepest depravities and his most glorious triumph.

In this room he had been brought to his lowest points. He had shot himself up with so much poison he had felt his heart stutter and struggle in his chest, tripping on the edge of death. He had been raped, beaten, starved and debased for the pleasure of evil men. He had wanted nothing more than to die.

And he had overcome all of that. He had reached into himself and found something real, something human that had survived all that darkness. In this room he'd discovered that he had a soul.

He had always thought that the horrible, unforgivable things he'd done here had been an expression of something dark and broken inside him. He'd thought, insanely, that he was somehow responsible for it, that someone else would have reacted differently to it. Standing here in his dream he couldn't understand what it was he had expected of himself. If he had been looking down at anyone else in the galaxy huddled on the floor of this room he would never have dreamed of making them responsible for what was happening to them, of expecting them to be anything more than what he was.

He had gotten out of it. That was what should define him.

"X," he said, moving forward and dropping to his knees beside the boy, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that this happened to you."

He could be sorry. It was sad. It was sad that all this had happened to a little boy. It was a tragedy that he wasn't the first, or the last person who lived through it.

And it wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault that all this had happened to him.

The room was burning. He couldn't say when it had begun. Sometimes it felt like it had begun on Elysium, and he could see himself as he had been then, eighteen and wearing a man's face, speaking with a man's voice. Other times he felt like it had begun on Virmire, when Ash died and he realized for the first time how serious his life had become. Sometimes it felt like it might have begun when he died, and he could see that too, his body floating in the darkness while his lifeless eyes wept blood.

But really, if he was honest with himself, it had begun with Kaidan. These fires had been born from that spark that burned between them that was so fantastic and terrifying. What he felt for Kaidan was pure and golden, and it filled him with so much strength and conviction. Thane had told him that loving someone was what gave a man strength and hope. He had been right. Shepard had never felt stronger, or more hopeful, in his life.

He gathered X's shaking body into his arms as the flames grew brighter, burned higher. He was nothing, ashes and coals, and he crumbled through Shepard's fingers until there was nothing but a pile of cinders smouldering between his boots. The blaze devoured concrete like it was dry wood, but Shepard walked through the flames untouched, feeling nothing but a cool tickle as the tongues licked his arms and legs.

He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, strong and proud and triumphant. He'd never imagined he could feel something this selfless and brave. He'd never imagined that he would encounter someone who made him feel humble and godlike in the same moment.

X could never have felt anything like this. The fact that he was capable of it was the last piece of evidence he needed to really believe he was gone, that the darkness had been finally swept away. He rose through the fire, soaring up, out of memory, out of guilt and shame and horror. Reborn. He was reborn.

Shepard woke smiling and brought a hand to his face. His cheeks were wet, and he tasted salt on his lips and rolled over, onto his stomach with a sigh. It wracked his entire body and left him feeling boneless and languid, happy as a cat in a sunbeam. He breathed slowly, savouring the moment.

For the first time in a long time he felt completely carefree. The Reapers vanished from his mind, not even a whisper of their darkness remained to taint this moment. He was perfectly, mindlessly happy for about a minute and he enjoyed every second of it. The stars moved overhead and he found no terror in them. They were beautiful.

"EDI," he said, pushing himself up with one hand, "how long until our next engagement?"

"We will arrive at the Asari monastery in four hours Shepard," EDI informed him crisply.

"And can I get a status report?"

"One moment. Engines are optimized and maintenance reports are up to date. Weapons arrays have been run through all pertinent tests and calibrated. All systems are up to date and maintenance scheduling has been filed for the next nine cycles. Is there anything else you want to know?"

Shepard paused, running a hand through his hair as he examined his reflection in the fish tank. Normally he would comb it all out and style it properly but his mind was elsewhere at the moment, his triumphant new self arguing with the persistent ghosts of his old insecurities. He pulled on a fresh uniform and zipped it up, not bothering to fuss with the seams.

"Yes. Where is Major Alenko?"

"Major Alenko is on the observation deck," EDI replied, no trace of emotion colouring her voice.

"Is anyone with him?"

"Engineer Adams is reading," EDI informed him. "Crimson Sighs is the title, I believe. A rather dubious novel written primarily for teenage girls, if I'm not mistaken."

"That's not nice," Shepard chided, but he laughed anyway. "Don't tell anyone I laughed."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she said. "Should I arrange a distraction for Engineer Adams?"

Shepard blushed a little, but forced his shoulders back and stood up straighter. Yes, he decided. Now. It had to be now. He couldn't afford to wait for another giant spaceship to come smashing out of the galaxy to destroy him. He could die tomorrow, or in four hours, or in four minutes when an artery burst in his brain or he tripped dismounting the elevator or spontaneously combusted on his way to dinner.

"Yes," he said. "I don't suppose I can rely on this being kept quiet."

"Jeff already knows," EDI replied. She sounded sheepish, a remarkable achievement for an AI. "I apologize."

"No, it's fine," Shepard shook his head, "you can make it up for me by making sure I'm not disturbed."

"Of course."

"I'm serious. I don't want to hear anything unless the ship is on fire or spiralling into a black hole."

"I understand. As far as the rest of the galaxy is concerned, Commander Shepard does not exist for the next four hours."

"I don't know if I can last four hours," Shepard said with a smirk, "but I'm going to give it my best shot."

"Good luck."

If Shepard hadn't known EDI better he would have sworn that somewhere she was smirking at him.

He did take the time to brush his teeth, and he even did some nervous uniform fiddling as he rode the elevator down to the crew deck. As he exited, still trying to convince himself he was totally cool and confident about how this was going to go, Engineer Adams pushed past him and punched the button for the engineering deck.

"Problem?" Shepard asked.

"Nothing serious," Adams didn't look up from the data pad he was reading from. His face was serious and intense.

Shepard had to bite down on his fist to keep his laughter in check as he turned his shoulder on the engineer and the elevator and headed for the observation deck. His stomach was twisting itself into knots as the doors slid open in front of him, but he imagined that he was really confident as he locked them behind him. Kaidan's back was to him, and he closed the distance between them with a few broad strides that almost convinced him he really was sure of himself. He didn't realize something was wrong until he was mustering the courage to reach out and touch him.

"Kaidan?"

"Hey Shepard." Kaidan's face was a bloodless ashy grey, his eyes dark and far away. He didn't look away from the vista of the stars stretching out beyond the windows and he looked just as cold and distant as they did.

"What's going on?" Shepard felt his stomach pull down into an impressive spiral of twisted flip-flops. He knew that face, that tone of voice, all too well. It was the face a man wears when he's just gotten very bad news from home, and it was terrible to behold. Shepard was all too aware of the extent of his ineptitude when it came to comforting and counselling his friends on family matters.

"It's nothing," Kaidan said, forcing a wooden smile onto his face and shrugging like his shoulder blades were made of razors. It was a weak out, but it was an out. He could make a few moments of painful small talk and escape, if he wanted to be a coward.

To his surprise, Shepard found that he didn't. Even if he had wanted to take the opportunity he wouldn't have, but for the first time in his life he found that he wanted to reach out, wanted to put himself in that awful, awkward, painful position. He wanted to be there.

"It's not nothing," he said, reproach in his voice. "Come on. I thought we were past this."

"You have enough to worry about," Kaidan sighed, rubbing a hand through his short dark hair but he turned so that they were facing each other. He seemed to be finding something on the floor between them very interesting and stared down at it as he ran his hand down the back of his neck, wincing at the tension he found gathered there.

"No I don't," Shepard insisted. "Kaidan, talk to me. I..." He struggled with a thousand and one things he wanted to say, blowing out a lungful of exasperation as his hands balled into helpless fists at his sides. "I want to hear it."

He didn't know what to do with his hands, but his body didn't seem to need his advice. They rose, one of the cupping the back of Kaidan's neck, the other his jaw. They applied the slightest bit of pressure, pulling his face up so he couldn't look at the floor.

They looked at each other and Shepard wondered why Kaidan was the only one who seemed to see anything human in his eyes anymore. He could see them make other people uncomfortable when they held eye contact for too long, even practised stoics like Garrus and Thane were not unaffected. But never Kaidan, they looked at each other and Shepard knew that he didn't need to know all the right words and how to put them together into a cohesive sentence. Kaidan could see it all in his eyes.

"The survivors of my dad's squad checked in with their commanders," Kaidan said after a minute. "They got separated by an ambush. They were in heavily infested territory and..." His voice broke and wound down into nothing. His shoulders lifted and fell in a heavy shrug and he seemed to cave in on himself a little, something going out of him.

"He's dead," he said softly, "my dad's dead."

Shepard put his arms around him. It seemed like the right thing to do. There weren't any words for a moment like this, Shepard was convinced that even if he'd been a normal person he wouldn't have known what to say. There was no way to heal this hurt, nothing his guns or fists or swaggering intellect could do to make things right. Kaidan leaned against him and Shepard held him up and neither of them said anything.

Kaidan cried like a soldier, silent and still. There wasn't any sobbing or shaking or the other usual messy dramatics, just a moment of furious tears falling on the shoulder of Shepard's uniform. When he lifted his head and took a deep breath, strength returning to his shoulders and back, Shepard leaned back and wiped the last tears off his face.

There was another small but important moment of silence where they stood there, warm in the circles of each other's arms. There was something so human about this thing that existed between them. It was startling to realize how deep it went, how important it had become, how fundamentally it had changed his life. Shepard felt his complex thoughts come to a screeching halt as he looked at this person that had become so unexpectedly important to him.

"Kaidan," Shepard said softly, "I know it's been said before, and it sounds stupid and hysterical and naive, but there's no point in giving up hope now. We're fighting this insane war against completely ridiculous odds and we're all still hoping that we'll pull some sort of miracle out of somewhere and succeed. All of that blind, wildly illogical hope is... human."

Kaidan looked at him for a moment, and then a tiny smile touched his lips. There was still sadness in it, no words could take all the grief out of this moment, but it was not so hopeless as the expression that had been there before. Kaidan rubbed his red eyes with one hand and almost laughed, breath exploding out of him as though he was relieved, like he'd needed someone to tell him it was okay to hope. He nodded, and his smile grew a little wider. It broke a little of the heaviness in the air and Shepard let himself smile in return. The seriousness of the moment lessened.

He was relieved. He was glad he hadn't taken the out, but he was still relieved.

"Why did you lock the door?" Kaidan asked, clearing his throat to rid it of the rasp tears left behind them.

"Ah," Shepard glanced away, "I didn't want... I..." He blushed. "It's not important."

"I thought we were past this," Kaidan said, doing an expert imitation of Shepard's amused-yet-perturbed expression.

"It's... well..." He felt himself blushing deeper, the colour no doubt burning through the rich brown tones of his skin and ducked his chin. "The crew might think we're in here screwing each other senseless. Or, at least, EDI and Joker think that so it's only a matter of time until the rest of the crew does to."

Kaidan looked surprised for a moment, and then his eyes narrowed and a sly expression spread across his face.

"You came down here to seduce me?" He asked, sounding delighted if not particularly inflamed. "What happened to Donnely's three date rule?"

"Vega told me the three date rule is for nerds," Shepard admitted, blushing harder.

"It is a little quaint," Kaidan admitted. "But I kind of liked it. It was gentlemanly."

"You're such an ass," Shepard swore, punching him lightly on the arm and stepping back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Anyway, it's, you know, no pressure and everything. I just thought... I don't know what I thought."

He fidgeted.

"I'm going to stop talking," he decided a loud. "In fact, you know what, I should just go. That's probably what I should do."

He turned his shoulder, intent on scuttling away in shame before every drop of blood in his body made its way to his face and the back of his neck. He considered a number of colourful suicide options and fought the urge to just break into a run.

"Were you thinking that it's stupid to wait?" Kaidan asked, his voice surprisingly firm and calm. "Because we could both die at any moment from any number of stupid things and then we'd just be a couple of idiots who let it all slip through our fingers twice?"

Shepard glanced over his shoulder, his face still burning. Kaidan's eyes were as intense as they'd been when Shepard entered the observation deck, but it was something entirely different behind them. He had been cold before, icy and distant, but there was nothing but heat in the look that passed between them.

"Something like that..." He admitted.

"Because that's all I've been thinking," Kaidan said forcefully, closing the distance between them. "Ever since the Presidium. At any point a Reaper or some other piece of insanity we haven't even seen yet could come smashing out of nowhere to destroy us just like the Collectors did and if that happened, if you died before I... before I..." He stumbled, losing a little of the fire that had been putting so much confidence in him. They looked at each other, both of them blushing wildly.

"We are the worst," Shepard sighed. "The absolute worst. I don't know how two people can be so bad at talking."

Kaidan laughed, nodding, and the two of them grinned at each other for a moment.

"I love you," Shepard said finally.

"I love you to," Kaidan smiled, and took the final small step that brought the two of them together, reaching for him, "don't go."

I've been trying to write stuff with the other characters, but all that comes out is more Shepard/Kaidan. So I guess you'll all just have to suffer through oodles of it.