A/N 30 March 2012: Thanks to GoogleFloobs for thetaing! Check out his story The Butcher! It's well-written, interesting, and VERY different :D Second, in general, after playing ME3 it has been clarified that Shepard is a full Commander, not a LCDR, as I had previously assumed. I am working to correct this inconsistency, but it will take time since I have quite a few chapters left to go!
Disclaimer: Mass Effect is copyright of Bioware. Ci-Ci is mine.
I welcome constructive and/or encouraging reviews/critiques. Please leave feedback!
Thank you for reading. Enjoy!
10 April 2183 — Norfolk, Virginia, Earth, Sol System
Shepard hated having to wear his dress blues, but he did it without argument. He was going to see an Admiral, which meant that he had to pretend that he actually cared. Well, he did. He wanted to be an admiral eventually (mostly because he couldn't see himself as anything but a soldier anymore).
The base in Norfolk was one of the few buildings that hadn't been updated on the outside. The buildings were still red brick with white columns. Shepard hated the entire look. He enjoyed the cold metal shells that made skyscrapers and the modular cubes that served as living quarters. It was the efficiency of it all, but the bricks just looked like work to him.
Captain Anderson was waiting outside. He was of average height, with a round face, faint jowls, small eyes, and dark skin. To anyone unfamiliar with him, he looked past his prime, but those who knew his career knew that he was just getting started. Anderson was a legend within the Alliance Navy. He was a war hero, among other things, and one of the few higher-ranking officers that didn't let politics blind him. Rumor had it that he had refused a promotion to admiral just so that he could stay on the front lines.
Despite their different methods, Shepard liked Anderson. If Shepard had to be a different kind of officer, he would've wanted to be like the Captain. Then again, Shepard was perfectly content with his own methods.
Admittedly, Torfan had been the height of his career. He'd earned the nickname "the Butcher of Torfan" (which he'd liked until Corinthia started muttering about it) and, though promoted, he'd only been given a couple minor assignments since. He enjoyed being in command, certainly, and Corinthia made a good XO. He was pretty sure that Corinthia had rigged their stations so that she would be assigned with him almost every time, but he didn't care. He actually enjoyed working with her, although he wasn't really sure how they'd managed to stay friends through their spats (which were quite often). Out of respect for her, he'd avoided another Torfan-like instance, but at the same time he hadn't had the opportunity to do something like it again. He didn't regret his actions, but he understood that anyone else would have or should have.
Captain Anderson nodded at Shepard. "Lieutenant Commander. You're early."
Shepard shrugged. "I'm still on leave and Ci-Ci's still at Arcturus Station, Captain."
Anderson raised an eyebrow. He had worked with Shepard several times before, although it had been nearly two years since their last mission together. The Alliance had investigated Shepard and Corinthia's relationship almost six years before and determined that there was nothing there. Still, it was highly uncommon for soldiers of opposite genders to be just friends.
"She's taking me out for my birthday tomorrow night, sir," Shepard explained. "She won't let me ditch her, either."
"I see. I wouldn't tell that to the Brass," Anderson warned.
Shepard rolled his eyes. "We're almost always assigned together, sir. She's been my XO nine times out of the last ten, so they can't blame us for getting to know each other. Besides, they're the ones that make the assignments. It's their own damn fault for putting her with me."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Anderson murmured.
"They think she rigged it?"
"There are rumors, although it hasn't been anything serious enough to warrant action."
"Sounds like it has Ci-Ci's fingerprints all over it, sir."
"Agreed. You'd better warn her that they're going to be watching her carefully from now on."
"Why me, sir?" Shepard groaned.
"Because she'll listen to you. She's already been written up for minor insubordination."
Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Who'd do that to her? She usually forget ranks because she's excited about something, Captain."
"I don't know, but I think she'll manage. She usually does. Now, are you ready to go inside?"
"As ready as I'll ever be, sir," Shepard replied lowly. He hated facing down the Admiralty. They were a bunch of old men that simply didn't understand what needed to be done. Luckily for Shepard, most of them were xenophobic enough to agree with his methods.
"That's good enough for me."
They headed inside. Unlike the classical exterior, the interior was far more modern, though still thirty years short of state of the art. The air smelled like sour milk and mildew: a perfect reflection of Shepard's image of the men leading the Alliance Navy.
Admittedly, most of the admiralty stayed on Arcturus Station, the System Alliance capital. The few that were on Earth mainly oversaw the upkeep of the fleet and various other tedious tasks. Every so often, one of the bigger names — Hackett, for example — would come back from Arcturus and have something to say. Though only a two star admiral, he had just as much influence as Ambassador Udina, the human representative on the Citadel.
So, when Shepard walked into the board room and saw Hackett, not to mention several other three and four star admirals, Shepard knew that something big was about to happen... and he didn't know if it was a good thing or not he was involved.
He saluted smartly alongside Captain Anderson.
"At ease," Hackett ordered casually.
In many ways, the Admiral looked like a much older version of Shepard: cold blue eyes, hard edges to all his features (even his wrinkles), and an aura that screamed, "I've seen shit that will make even your hair curl." A long, deep scar marred his visage from ear to lip, only adding to the dangerous image. Hackett was Shepard's biggest proponent among the admiralty, having been responsible for his nomination for the Star of Terra after the Blitz to his slightly early promotion to Lieutenant Commander after Torfan. There had even been rumors of a human up for the Spectres. Secretly, Shepard hoped that it would be him. He had worked his ass off for the Alliance, survived the three biggest incidents since the First Contact War, and was more than proving himself. If it wasn't going to be him, it would be Corinthia. Actually, Shepard thought that she would be put up first, if only because she was "more easily controlled", to quote Major Kyle after Torfan (then again, Kyle had a nervous breakdown, so not a word he said could be taken as truth).
Shepard clasped his hands behind his back, now almost eagerly awaiting Hackett's next words. Next to him, Anderson seemed to know at least something of what was coming, since his face was as placid and serene as ever.
"As you have heard, the Alliance has been working with the turians to develop a new type of stealth ship," Hackett began.
For the first time, Shepard noticed the turian in the room. The alien leaned against the wall in the shadows, eyes locked on Shepard. The Commander returned the gaze levelly, not at all intimidated.
"The first prototype is ready: the Normandy," Hackett continued. "No other ship of her kind exists. Captain, she is being given to you. Shepard, you are the executive officer. You are to take her on her maiden voyage to Eden Prime. From there, you'll begin a series of training exercises."
Shepard raised an eyebrow. Christening a ship was only half of a big deal, but it certainly didn't warrant being addressed by the admiralty. He held his tongue, making a mental note to ask Corinthia what the hell was going on. She had a way of knowing everything that was happening, which was just another way to say that she had permanent taps on all Alliance transmissions. He still didn't know how she got away with it.
"Captain, you'll be given crew assignments, but I should mention that Lieutenant Corinthia-Imreas will be joining you as well as second mate. She doesn't know it yet, but she'll be a Lieutenant Commander by the time she boards the Normandy."
"Understood, Admiral," Anderson replied.
Shepard was used to Corinthia working with him, but it was the first time that he hadn't noticed some kind of annoyance or hesitation at the fact. He had long suspected that she rigged their assignments so that they could be together, but that was her way of "keeping an eye on him", which she was determined he needed regardless of what had happened since Torfan. He'd stopped caring that she watched him almost three years before, when he first realized that he was truly beginning to care about her.
"And you, Shepard, are being promoted to full commander," Hackett finished.
Shepard saluted. "Thank you, sir."
"Do you have anything to add, Commander?"
Shepard had plenty to say ( namely, "a test mission with me AND Ci-Ci? Like hell that's what's really happening. Mind telling me what's really going on?"), but he shook his head. "No, sir."
The turian's eyes narrowed, regarding Shepard carefully and clearly sensing that the Commander had held back.
"You ship out on the first at 0600. Commander, you are dismissed. I understand that you came off of leave for this meeting, so consider yourself on leave again for an additional twenty-four hours. Captain, if I could speak to you in alone."
Shepard saluted and went outside, the other admirals following moments later as their meeting was adjourned.
The turian stepped forward. "He knows that this isn't what it seems."
"Shepard is one of the shrewdest officers we have," Anderson replied. "Of course he suspects."
Hackett tapped the tips of his fingers together. "But the question is how much."
Anderson shook his head. "Knowing him, he'll know exactly what's happening by the end of tonight. Ci-Ci has her fingers in everything. She'll let him know exactly what's going on before he even sees the Normandy."
The turian crossed his arms. "Are you sure she's a wise choice for the Spectres, then?"
Hackett nodded. "Her personality is a little... unique, but she's the most talented hacker the Alliance has. Her intelligence alone makes her a wise choice, but she and Shepard both have survived more than most admirals can boast. She's more than capable."
"But only if she wants to be," Anderson added darkly. "Her true colors really show in dire situations, but that's only because she doesn't feel challenged otherwise."
"Yes, her salarian schooling would have suggested as much," the turian murmured.
"Udina approves of Shepard, certainly, but not Ci-Ci," Hackett added. "He thinks she's a liability."
"Her background suggests that she would leave the Alliance for the Spectres," the turian answered. "Work with and contacts within the STG, abnormally intelligent, rapid promotion, history of ignoring regulation..." The turian trailed off, thinking about something else.
"What are you thinking, Nihlus?" Anderson asked after a long moment.
The turian smirked. "It will be interesting to see them in action. I've heard they make quite the team, but that isn't how the Spectre's operate."
Anderson and Hackett exchanged glances. "True, and she often refuses command if offered," Anderson mused aloud. "But you understand that we can't revoke her candidacy."
"Naturally. Not all Spectres work alone as I do," Nihlus replied.
"Do you want to meet her beforehand?" Anderson asked. "She'll be returning from Arcturus in about three hours."
Nihlus crossed his arms and shrugged apathetically. "I'll see her in action soon enough. Some of her former classmates are Spectres. They have some... interesting stories about her antics. Something about old music and dancing robots?"
Hackett suppressed a snort. Corinthia had rigged several soldier's omni-tools to cause any robots to dance as they passed to a very loud and obnoxious song from the 1990s called "U Can't Touch This" (though how she even dug that up, no one knew). They knew it was her, but hadn't been able to trace it to her. Frankly, Hackett thought it a good thing that she could bring smiles to the soldiers' faces. Few people had that gift after seeing everything that she had.
"I'd pay more attention to the fact that she's indestructible," Anderson answered. "She has more scars than most veterans and I'm pretty sure she only knows where one set of them came from, those being the ones on her face."
Nihlus nodded. "I've heard. Knowing pain is a strength, not a weakness. It shows us our vulnerabilities."
"Are you satisfied?" Hackett asked sternly.
Nihlus opened his omni-tool. "I've learned as much as I need to. I'll make any further inquiries alone." He left, perfectly silent.
Hackett released a slow breath. "What do you think, Anderson?"
"I'm not sure, Admiral. Shepard would jump at the chance. Corinthia might not care."
"When was the last time they operated without each other outside of training?"
"For Shepard? About a eighteen months ago. He investigated some Cerberus activity near Omega."
"I remember hearing that... Lots of bodies."
"But not as many as Torfan, sir. Then Corinthia... Beyond training, there have maybe been three missions over the last five years that Shepard wasn't involved in. Their assignments are always together, so one might go out without the other, but the missions can vary."
"I see why the Brass suspects fraternization, then."
"Shepard doesn't let anyone close, sir. She's as close as they come, but he's too determined to leave something he wants alone. If they were ever going to be together, it already would have happened."
"Do you think it will be a problem, then?" Hackett pressed calmly, unconvinced.
"It might be for her, but I doubt it would be for Shepard. Then again..." Anderson trailed off.
"Captain Corinthia was killed by Cerberus agents," Hackett finished. "I'm aware of her mother's war record, not to mention the Lieutenant's... attitude towards it."
Corinthia rarely mentioned her mother, but the Alliance's only record of her hacking their database was as she attempted to find out what had really happened aboard the SSV Geneva. What the Alliance didn't know was that Shepard's mission hunting down Cerberus had been because of Corinthia's interest in the matter. Even Corinthia didn't know why he'd gone and done it (or even that he'd done it for her).
"If we say anything else, the Brass could have more than enough to court martial them both," Hackett said lowly. "They're both fine officers and are going to be even better Spectres. Humanity doesn't need a fiasco right now. They need heroes."
Anderson clasped his hands behind his back. "I can only hope they'll deliver. Shepard is good, but you and I both know how he despises publicity."
Shepard had once punched a reporter and broken the man's nose. The media gave him a wide berth, but every so often word would come that Shepard had pushed or roughed up someone else. Corinthia didn't speak to the press often, either, but she was at least civil about it.
"You and I both know that there aren't any other choices," Hackett growled. "I suggest you get yourself ready. This mission isn't going to be easy."
11 April 2183 — Civilian Docks, Norfolk, United North American States
Corinthia trudged off of the transport, not even smiling. That is, until she saw Shepard waiting for her. She grinned widely and headed towards him.
The docks were packed with people on their ways to destinations all across the galaxy. Since her trip to Arcturus Station wasn't a mission or assignment, she'd taken civilian transport. Personally, Shepard thought she'd done that just so she wouldn't have to be in uniform.
He stood amidst the hoards of waiting families and friends, grimacing a little as everyone hugged and kissed. For a moment, his mind flashed to what it would've been like to kiss Corinthia in greeting, but he dismissed it as soon as it came. He'd sworn never to let himself get attached to her in that way, but every so often an idea would surface. They weren't hard to fight back, granted, but they had starting coming more often than he was comfortable with (at least one a day, sometimes as many as five or six).
She put down her bag and pounced on him. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Happy to see me?"
"No. It's a Happy Birthday hug," she answered, squeezing him. "Well, and you're fun to hug, but that's another story. AND it's a happy promotion hug. That was fast, making you a full Commander." She playfully punched his arm. "Guess we'll never be the same rank, huh?"
He rolled his eyes and picked up her bag (he felt his ears redden faintly as she thanked him in absolute shock, since he'd never really attempted to be a gentleman). "Alright, what the hell are you going to do to me tonight?"
"You know I'm not going to do anything to you. At least, not anything that's..." She trailed off, blushing. "I mean, it's your birthday and all, and I know that I can ruin the fun for you."
Shepard nodded in understanding. After Corinthia's little outburst regarding his treatment of women, he'd kept his encounters to nights when she wasn't around. That meant that there were far fewer than before, but strangely it didn't bother him as much as he had imagined it would.
"Don't worry about it, Ci-Ci. I think I can handle us going out together, as usual." He started. "Not like that. Just us out as friends."
"Are you alright, Shep?"
"Yeah, yeah. Fine," he muttered, wondering why the hell he'd suddenly caught himself insinuating that they were together. "Your place?"
"Don't see why not. I'd like to clean up, get out of this, and not look like I've been in a transport all day."
"You don't look that bad..."
"After five years, you'd think you could tell a girl she looked pretty no matter what state she was in..."
"I've seen you look better, though."
"Not helping, Shep."
"Fine. No more compliments for you."
She snickered. "I bet that'll last..."
"You bet your pretty little ass it will."
She laughed hysterically. "You know I love you, don't you?"
He smirked. "Of course you do. I'm just so manly that you can't resist."
"Don't count on that."
"Seriously? Cassie, I see you staring at me every so often."
She turned crimson. "So you've got the ideal soldier's body. Big deal."
He shook his head. "What am I going to do with you?"
"I dunno. Punish me? Not give me a ride home?"
"I brought my bike."
"Then what the hell are we waiting for? Let's go!" She darted ahead, stopped, and turned back to him. "Where is it?"
He laughed and gestured in the right direction. "Excited, are we?"
"That's what she said."
"For that, you get to carry this." He tossed her luggage back into her arms.
"Hey! It wasn't that bad."
He raised an eyebrow. "My turn."
"Oh, you bastard... You're good."
"What am I going to do with you?"
"Oh my God! You're playing along? I can't believe it!"
"Miracles can happen, you know. I might even start to enjoy this."
"Maybe we should stop while we're ahead?"
"And miss all the fun? Hell no. I like doing this."
"Can I say it again?" she asked pitifully.
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Oh, come on..."
"Ci-Ci?"
"Hm?"
"No."
5 hours later — the Old Man's Cup, Norfolk
Shepard still couldn't believe that he was looking at the same person. Corinthia hadn't gone so far as to wear a dress, but she'd actually tried to make herself look attractive — make-up, a shirt and pants that actually fit her, and combing her hair. She looked legitimately pretty, though not at all in a sexy or seductive way. Just... pretty. Shepard didn't know what other word to put to her. Normally, he barely looked at her at all, but that night he was having trouble taking his eyes off of her. Even the other alluring women in the old-style pub couldn't hold his attention for long enough to get him interesting in leaving with them.
Then again, Shepard didn't have Corinthia's attention. As the organizer of the party, she was running around and making sure that all the good was where it was supposed to be and that the bartender understood that only certain drinks were complimentary. Things were in full swing, but she refused to enjoy herself. As a matter of fact, she was more frazzled than Shepard had ever seen her.
He caught her arm as she passed. "Chill out, Ci-Ci. I didn't ask for this."
"Well, it's your last birthday in your twenties, so you're going to enjoy yourself," she answered absently. "Hey! That cake's for later!"
He grabbed her waist and pulled her onto his lap. Since he was already tipsy, he had no issue touching her or being happy in general. "Jesus, Cassie, relax. If you can't, I can't. You know that."
She sighed. "I'm sorry, John. I wanted this to be perfect, you know? It's the first time we're both on leave at home and really able to, you know, do something..."
"I liked just sitting down with you and having a beer," he murmured, releasing her. She got to her feet and straightened her shirt self-consciously. "I don't know half of these people."
Corinthia raised an eyebrow. "You've served with all of them over the last six months. The other half are their dates, I guess..." She scratched her head. "Damn. I hope that I've got enough —" She opened her omni-tool and started going through charts.
Shepard groaned. "Please, don't start with that."
She closed the orange hologram, but only looked more worried than before. "Sorry, I'm just..."
"Fixating. Have a drink, talk to some guys, and have some fun. Well, as much as you usually do."
"T-talk to some guys?" she repeated, blinking in shock. "You can't be serious..."
"I have every intention of having company when I go home tonight," he answered, smirking. "It's about time you had a boyfriend, too, you know. You're not eighteen anymore. How old are you, anyway?"
"Twenty-three," she replied darkly. "Some friend you are for remembering."
"I stopped paying attention once you were legally old enough for me to talk to you."
She snorted derisively and reached for her omni-tool, but stopped short.
"You alright?" he asked, more concern coming through than he thought he felt.
"Nothing. It was just a really, really, really long week..." She ran her fingers through her hair (which was now very short) and smoothed her bangs over her scars.
Shepard nodded in understanding. She'd graduated from the Academy and the N7 program years before, but they'd asked her to give a guest lecture on the use of technical skills in the field of battle. Not only that, but she'd had to go to Pinnacle Station to help demonstrate. Working with experienced soldiers was one thing, but with raw recruits it was nothing short of aggravating.
"Now you know how I felt when I first met you," he chuckled.
"Only mostly. I'd at least finished basic during the Blitz. And I knew what I was doing."
"Yeah, right."
"What?" she asked innocently. "You know I did."
He put his arm around her shoulders. "It's fine, Cassie. Go relax. That's an order."
She smirked. "I don't have to listen to you anymore, Shep. I'm an LC now."
"Anderson told me. I've still got you on date of enlistment."
"But this is my party for you, John, so you're going to have to deal with the fact that we're equals right now, hm?"
"First names, tonight, is it?"
"You started it by calling me 'Cassie'."
"I did?"
"Uh, yeah. More than you've called me 'Ci-Ci', actually, since I got back."
"Oh... That's weird. Not intentional."
"It's... Well, I guess I'll have a drink after all." She shifted out of his grasp in order to find the bartender.
Shepard slowly touched his sternum, his stomach plunging a little. Why the fuck is my heart racing?
A woman with sultry looks (and hips) slid into Corinthia's place. "Hi," she greeted, dark red lips parting in a seductive smile.
Shepard nodded in reply.
"You're Shepard, aren't you?"
"And if I am?" he answered, automatically turning on the charm.
"Mm," she hummed, shamelessly looking him up and down. "You look like him. Then again I'm not sure that it would change the outcome of this conversation."
He raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?"
She giggled. "Oh, yes..."
Behind her, Corinthia was trying not to gag. She'd never actually heard Shepard have a conversation like that before, nor was she interesting in hearing the conclusion. Worse, she already knew the sinking feeling in her gut was jealousy. Still, Shepard could do whatever he wanted. It wasn't any of her business who he slept with, or if he slept with anyone at all. She'd hoped... it didn't matter what she'd hoped. Shepard would never like her, not like she did him, and she'd accepted that fact almost as soon as they had become friends. Had her feelings faded? No, not really, but she had stopped looking for any evidence that he was capable of legitimate affection. Granted, the way he'd held her just then had thrown her off to no end, but then he had just turned around and started flirting with that... that... harlot.
When Corinthia glanced back, Shepard already had his arm around the woman's waist. It took all of Corinthia's willpower to not start asking very pointed questions to make the Harlot look like the idiot she was.
Don't do it, Corinthia thought. You told him that he could do whatever he wanted, so he can. If that's her, it's her.
Corinthia downed her drink a bit more quickly than she'd intended, feeling it go straight to her head. "Bad idea..." she muttered, rubbing her eyes. "Oh, shit. I forgot I actually put eyeliner on..." She darted to the bathroom to fix it, not feeling Shepard still watching her. Harlot whispering hotly in his ear or not, he was worried about Corinthia. She was... Wait, what had the woman actually in his arms just said? That she'd — Shepard wasn't going to be staying in the bar for much longer, it seemed.
The bar itself was already packed, and not just with people there to wish Shepard well. As outgoing as she could be, Corinthia was ultimately clingy and nervous in large crowds. She was more likely to hang on to Shepard all night than she was to go and talk to anyone else. He didn't want her around, but then again, he'd been hearing the conversations the other soldiers in the bar were having:
"Damn, that can't be the Lieutenant..."
"Hell yeah it is. Think I should make a move?"
"Go for it, man. She's gotta be wanting something if she looks like that."
"Maybe she'll have a friend..."
"Like who?"
"Whoever's with Shepard. She wouldn't let him hook up with just anyone."
"Maybe that one's got a friend..."
"You don't poach off the Commander unless you want to be fucked up."
"I heard Shepard'll fuck up anyone that tries anything on her."
"Bull shit. He'll be too busy getting laid to pulp anyone that hits on her. Right. I'm gonna go talk to her."
Shepard's insides seethed (what the fuck is wrong with me? he thought) as Hell Yeah went over to talk to Corinthia.
"So... Lieutenant..."
"Yes?" she answered, smiling politely.
"If I told you that you had a nice body, would you hold it against me?" Hell asked lewdly, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Uh... No, nope, nein, niet, not really," she answered cheerfully.
He blinked. "You're blunt."
"That's what she said."
He laughed too loudly. She winced. "Come with a volume control, yeoman?"
"I'm gonna break yours."
She raised an eyebrow. "What are you even talking about? If it's my omni-tool, then you're going to be in big trouble. No one touches that without my permission."
"Maybe we can test compatibility."
"Trust me, it won't be compatible. You don't have the appropriate technology."
Shepard snorted, barely managing to suppress his laughter. He couldn't tell if Corinthia knew what Hell was up to, but he had a feeling that Hell was going to try harder and she was going to continue dancing in circles around him.
"I could upgrade."
"I doubt it. Some hardware's better left unused."
"Some hardware can't go unused."
"Everything can be replaced."
He gaped. "You... Damn... That's hot..."
"What is?" she asked, clearly not understanding what had crossed his mind.
"But we were just talking about..."
"Technology," she finished.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. What did you think we were talking about?"
"I..."
Shepard smirked smugly. Naturally, Corinthia would be too daft to recognize that someone was trying to pick her up. He was proud of her for ignoring the idiot, because he knew she could do much, much better, but it made him wonder if she even knew what flirting was. Either that or she was the most intelligent woman that walked the galaxy (doubtful).
Corinthia patted Hell's shoulder. "Don't look so confused, unless that pick-up line messed with your head that badly. I didn't think it had. I mean, I'm not that intimidating, am I? It's Shepard you need to soften up with some kind of amusing quip. Then again, why would you want to talk to him? He isn't interested in tech, just guns and all that stuff."
Hell didn't know if he was supposed to be interested or turned off. He looked at her, confused, and finally just walked away.
Damn laughed. "Shit, man, you buuurrnnneeed."
Hell muttered a vague, "Fuck you" and ordered the largest beer he could get.
Corinthia shrugged and rubbed her arm uncomfortably. She didn't like crowds, not when she didn't have someone to hold on to. Insecurity had always been an issue for her, but the party was only making it worse. She was more than regretting planning it (although the way Shepard had his lips locked with the Harlot suggested that he was more than enjoying himself, which was the point, after all).
Corinthia checked her omni-tool for the time. "Well, here goes nothing..." She clambered onto a chair and whistled sharply. "Alright, everyone! Thanks for coming and all that fun stuff. We're here because a certain infamous Lieutenant Commander — Wait, I mean, just straight up and outranking me even more Commander Shepard is having a birthday. Won't be long before he'll outrank everyone else, too."
"Speaking of ranks," Shepard added, pulling her down. "A certain Lieutenant has just been made a Lieutenant Commander."
Corinthia flushed as people applauded. Someone yelled, "Does that mean you two can make out in public now?"
Shepard opened his mouth to retort, but Corinthia beat him to it. "Who said that? Come over here and I'll beat your punk-ass into submission with that reg book, because not only am I younger than all of you, but I also outrank everyone, too! Well, except Shepard, because he's just awesome like that.
"So, well, now I forgot what else I was going to say, so let's just toast and get this party started!"
Everyone cheered, drank, and went back to their business. Corinthia hugged Shepard. "Happy birthday, tough guy," she murmured, squeezing him and getting on tiptoe to lightly kiss his cheek.
He held her back, not letting go of her. He could only think that she smelled good and he actually liked her kissing him. Before he knew what was happening, she was out of his grasp, blushing furiously, and muttering something about needing a drink.
"Well, now that that's over," the Harlot murmured, tracing her fingers along his shoulders and licking his ear, "I've got a real birthday present for you."
Shepard wasn't about to resist and she pulled his lips to hers once more. Corinthia shivered and turned her back to them. If she was certain that Shepard was going to be happier for having a woman, Corinthia would've been happy, but that thing he was kissing wasn't good enough to lick the mud off of his boots.
Kaidan Alenko, a biotic with whom Corinthia and Shepard had worked with a few times before, came over. Alenko looked like he'd walked out of Italy, with olive skin, big brown eyes, thick brows, and slightly wavy black hair. He would've been handsome if he didn't slick his bangs back into a weird sort of Elvis-like swoosh. "Ci-Ci," he greeted, his voice low and rasping.
"Kaidan," she replied, smiling gratefully. With someone else to talk to, she wouldn't be staring at Shepard and wishing she was the Harlot. "Glad you could come."
He shrugged. "Everyone needs to unwind every once in a while. Does Shepard even know who I am?"
"How am I supposed to know? He doesn't tell me anything, really, at least about people. I can't remember the last time he talked about an op and used names of specific people and all that fun gooey sparkly stuff or whatever names are."
"Sounds like him." Alenko raised his eyebrows as Shepard and the Harlot slipped away towards the back. "But that I didn't expect..."
"Whatcha looking at?"
"Nothing," Alenko quickly answered. "Everyone still thinks that you and Shepard are an item."
She laughed loudly. "Yeah, right! Like he'd even look at me."
"Half the bar is."
"They're desperate, then."
"C'mon, Ci-Ci, have a little faith in yourself."
She lightly touched her scars. "I guess... I don't want their attention. Maybe I should just get drunk and... I don't even know what I'd do, then."
"You like him."
"Unfortunately... There's something wrong with me."
"There's a lot wrong with you."
"Point..." She laughed uncomfortably.
"You should tell him that you like him."
"Sure. And get my head bitten off."
"The guy was hugging you half an hour ago. I've never seen him touch anyone when he wasn't kicking their ass."
"Yeah, I guess... But there's also the fact that he's got that harlot on his arm. Uh, where'd he go? I mean, where'd they go?"
"Ci-Ci, you can't be that oblivious."
"Huh? Of course I'm not — Oh..." She clenched a fist unconsciously. "I... I'll be over there. Yeah. Over there. Somewhere. Enjoy yourself, Kaidan. I'm going to be over there."
He frowned. "You alright, Ci-Ci?"
"Hm? What? Me? Oh, no, I'm fine, just like Caesar was when he last saw Brutus."
"Uh..."
She smiled, though it was the most strained Alenko had ever seen it. "Don't worry about me, Kaidan. I just feel sick, that's all. Must've been the cheese."
"There isn't any cheese here, but you do look pretty pale. Maybe you should go lie down or something. I have to do that when my L2s get to me."
"Yeah, that sounds... good. I think I saw a sofa in a corner. Uhm... nevermind. That looks rank. I'll find somewhere to pout — I mean, breathe. This place smells so much like beer and whiskey that I'm getting drunk off the secondhand fumes."
The Harlot smoothed her dress back over her thighs, fixed her hair, and pulled out a hand mirror to check her make-up. "Who's Cassie?" she asked, miffed.
"What was that?" Shepard answered nonchalantly.
"Who's Cassie? You were saying her name."
Shepard finished doing his belt, masking every emotion that was attempting to surface. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."
"Don't act so fucking stupid. When you had me against the wall, you kept saying 'Cassie' into my ear like she was some kind of goddess. Who the hell is she?"
Shepard's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I suggest you leave. Now."
The Harlot opened her mouth like she was going to argue, but she met his gaze, paled, and left almost as quickly as she'd gotten into his pants.
The second the back door closed behind her, Shepard sank to the ground in sheer horror. "Fuuuuck," he breathed. He had been wondering why he didn't feel satisfied, but that? It wasn't right. No, wait, maybe it was. He'd been thinking about her like that more and more lately, wanting to get close to her, but he hadn't been drunk enough to imagine that woman was someone else... Or had his id just surfaced as his desires and instincts took over? If he wanted Corinthia on a base level, then... "Shit," was the only word he could manage. He wasn't ready to like her, or anyone. He'd never even really guessed that he'd end up with anyone at all. Liking her meant that he — He wasn't going to think about what it meant, because he knew damn well it would be the end of him if he gave in. Emotions were for the weak.
He cracked his knuckles, unable to dismiss his feelings so easily. He should've known that his and Corinthia's relationship couldn't stay just friends forever. She may have latched onto him immediately, but it had taken him years to warm up to her. Things had gone too far. Though still guarded, she'd somehow managed to weasel her way through his armor. She barely knew any more about him than others, but the real miracle lay in the fact that she understood him. Maybe his protectiveness of her didn't stem in the fact that he needed her alive to fight, as it had towards the beginning of their friendship.
Sure, Ci-Ci may have slowly become pretty in his eyes — no, wait, she had always been, but the scars had thrown him off, but then he'd started to like them, and now he didn't know what to think. She was his best friend. Hell, she was almost like his sister. People didn't get images of themselves kissing their siblings, but the only thing Shepard could really focus on was how it felt to have her lips brush against his cheek. Affectionate as she was, that was a new level.
What if she liked him? He had never bothered looking for the signals, since he hadn't been interested. As much as he tried to remember, he couldn't think of any moment when she'd shown any flirtiness, let alone hinting that she saw him as more than a friend, except for what had happened an hour earlier.
Regardless of what she thought, he'd probably ruined his chances with her by having alley sex with someone whose name he didn't even know. There was no way Corinthia hadn't noticed his absence (he'd seen her frown at him, but bite her tongue and swallow some cruel remark). Even her forgiveness had its limits. He wasn't even sure she'd ever really forgiven him for Torfan, or even for not asking what was wrong when something clearly was. Granted, he didn't want to hear her bitch about her day, but he vented about the stupidity in his unit so often that he just assumed that he was speaking for the both of them.
I'm a fucking bastard, that's what I am, he thought, pounding the back of his head against the wall. He'd been treating her like shit, but she still lit up with that smile of hers whenever she saw him. He didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve her. Ever. She needed someone that would care for her...
That required an emotional depth that he simply lacked and didn't want to have. He'd never really liked a woman on more than a sexual level. He'd never wanted to; it meant commitment, time, and sacrifice. He wasn't willing to do any of that shit, except maybe for Corinthia, once he thought about it. It had taken him five years to tell her bits and pieces of his past, which for him was one of the ultimate sign of trust and respect next to an apology, and she knew more about him than anyone else in the galaxy. Hell, she even knew that he'd been abandoned on a playground somewhere in Montreal. She didn't know what it had done to him emotionally (not that he really did, either), but he knew for damn certain that she still understood him perfectly.
Corinthia was his only real emotional link. He didn't need to do much with feelings, but (current breakdown or not) even he had to admit that he felt better after telling Corinthia that something bothered him. Then again, it was usually her that was aggravating him. Still, the fact that she could annoy him and it didn't necessarily make him want to shoot something was progress. Now, all he could do was try desperately to force down the part of him that wanted her physically. The fact was that if he acknowledged his feelings for her, he would be obligated to act on them. He wasn't the sort to just let her be near him and not have her. That didn't mean that he wouldn't make sure that she cared for him in return first, but he wouldn't hesitate.
But no matter what he thought, there was still only one conclusion: he couldn't like her. He wouldn't like her. He didn't want to, so that was the end of it. Emotions were dangerous, weak, and against his personal code. Though he knew that he'd never be able to deny being attached to her — after all, she was his best and only true friend — he wouldn't allow himself to push the boundaries any further. The idea of being... shackled to anyone was more than revolting. He was already kicking himself for even considering it — or, more specifically, her. She'd never been kissed, never experienced romance, never anything. He wasn't even sure what kind of men she liked... If she liked him. That Justicar had forced Corinthia to admit to liking him, but that was eight years ago. Though still immature, she'd changed, grown up, become a woman... mostly. Even if he ever decided to like her, he would still have to deal with the fact that it might not be reciprocated.
Almost an hour of his internal conflict passed before he felt Corinthia slide into place next to him. He stiffened. Even if he had seen her, he didn't think that he could actually look at her right then. Of all the times that she could seek him out, it had to be when he was in a bad spot about her. Still, she wasn't touching him, like she usually did, which could only mean that she knew about what had just happened and was trying desperately to grin and bear it.
"You alright, Shep?" she asked after a long moment.
"Not now, Cassie," he breathed hoarsely.
"Is this about the party? Look, I'm sorry I dragged you here tonight. I thought you'd enjoy a big hoopla instead of just hanging out with me for once. You and Miss Whatserface seemed to be having some laughs. And did I say anything? No, but she came back and you didn't. I was worried..." She toyed with her fingers. "You are having fun, aren't you?"
He shut his eyes. "No, I'm not, but it's not that..."
She gently touched his arm. If she didn't know any better, she was pretty sure that he was about to cry. She'd seen him after some of the most emotionally-draining events in either of their lives, but whatever had happened in the last couple hours was clearly worse than the Blitz, Akuze, and Torfan combined, cubed, and integrated to infinity. "What's wrong, then?"
He jerked away. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Oh, alright... Is it my fault?"
"Yes," he answered, barely audible.
She bit her lip and withdrew. "Oh... Well... I'm sorry. For whatever it is. Just let me know if I do it again, alright? This is your night. I want you to be happy and enjoy yourself, you know? I mean, I can be... uptight and sorta... well, you know what I mean. It's not my business what and who you do, but I wasn't going to say anything, anyway. It's not like — "
"Cassie, just shut up. Now."
She opened her mouth to protest, but closed it quickly. Finally, she just hugged him, more tightly than she ever had. He sat there for a long moment, blinking uncertainly as he tried to figure out what she was trying to tell him, before he roughly pushed her away. She landed hard, mouth hanging open in shock. He may have been forceful with her before, but he'd never hurt her intentionally. This wasn't an instance of the latter, but it was the closest he'd ever gotten.
Shepard started forward, his expression betraying genuine concern for a few heartbeats before returning to its stony mask. He slumped against the wall. "You don't know what you're doing," he rasped, desperately trying to swallow his emotions. "Please... Just leave me alone."
Her brow furrowed in hurt and confusion. After a long moment of sitting there, palms stinging from skidding on the asphalt, she got to her feet and went back inside. Less than a minute later, she came out again, pulling on her jacket.
"I'm sorry I fucked up your night," she whispered as she passed, sucking in a deep breath. Within seconds, she was going to be sobbing. "It won't happen again."
Shepard wanted to stop her, but he didn't. He couldn't. She wasn't going to get to him now, or ever, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't dismiss the ideas running rampant through his mind. Maybe it was because he'd been drinking, but he wasn't drunk or even tipsy! Why was he even thinking about it? The woman — whatever her name was — hadn't cared that he'd called her something else during the act (since she had seemed to encourage him all the more). His groin was telling him to find her or some other whore and just fuck out his romantic fantasy of having Corinthia, but another deeper part of him was telling him to wait for the woman he really wanted.
"Fuck this," he muttered, running his hands over his face. He wasn't about to ruin their friendship because he'd started to like her as more than a friend. He was a tough guy (as she had put it); he could handle it. Besides, it would probably pass, like it always did with him and women. He couldn't even remember the names of any of his past flings (not that he'd bothered to get them), just like their faces morphed and warped into an unfocused, blank visage. Of all the things that he could've been considered nightmares, this was one of them. The sheer emptiness of everything... He'd never seen it because he hadn't wanted to. It took all of his effort to force down the tiny kernel inside of him crying out for him to have someone that actually meant something to him, who could be a reason to live, fight, whatever. Maybe the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach was true and unadulterated guilt.
In all the years he'd known her, he'd never actually apologized to her. He'd never had to because he'd never had reason and because she'd always been able to forgive him, regardless of if he felt remorse (which he hadn't). Honestly, he still wasn't sure why she kept overlooking his faults and just smiled, hugged him, and didn't ask any questions... like she'd just done, and he'd pushed her away.
It was the first step to recovery.
Alenko came out. "Hey, Commander, you seen Ci-Ci? She looked pretty shaken..."
"She's gone home," Shepard growled.
Alenko raised an eyebrow. "You don't look too good yourself."
"None of your goddamn business." Shepard released a slow breath. "How bad was she?"
"She looked about ready to cry, if you ask me. Did you talk to her?"
"Not exactly."
Alenko had Shepard had worked together a few times before, but Alenko had never seen Shepard look anywhere near vulnerable. Right then, then man actually looked human.
Shepard got to his feet, clutching his temples as a headache roared in. "Did she say where she was going?"
"She said 'home'. She also downed at least three shots, and I've never seen her drink before..."
"Bourbon?"
"How'd you know?"
"Great," Shepard groaned, running a hand over his head. "She gets tipsy off of just one."
"She drive here?"
"No." Shepard pushed past Alenko to get inside. He came out seconds later, pulling on his jacket. "This party died about an hour ago."
"Huh. I didn't notice." Alenko shrugged. "Want me to make up some kind of excuse, sir?"
"Do whatever you want. I'll see you around, Alenko." Shepard walked off without another word.
The night was pleasant, thankfully enough, with air just chilly enough to be refreshing without necessarily needing a coat. The lights twinkled across the harbor, illuminating the area with the eerie orange glow of old lamps. Shepard could hear the drunken laughter of men in bars, watching football (or what used to be football until krogan began to play) and comparing stories or simply attempting to find companionship for the night, as Shepard would do on occasion. Then again, he was almost positive that that night was the last time in a very, very long time that he was going to have a woman. Even though he'd decided not to let Corinthia get to him, he also knew that another one-night-stand was only going to make matters worse.
Corinthia wasn't too far ahead of him. Her hands were thrust in her pockets, in all likelihood clasping her pistol, and her gait practically screamed dejection. From the way her shoulders were quivering, she was probably crying, too.
"Cassie..."
She stopped and turned to face him, her tear-reddened eyes betraying her happiness at seeing him even though her lips were pressed into a tight line.
"Ruined my night or not," he continued, "I'm not letting you walk home alone."
She snorted. "As if I can't take care of myself. Ooh, that's shiny..."
"Not to mention that you're drunk," he added darkly.
She giggled. "So you noticed. I am kinda dizzy..."
He shook his head. "Babysitting you what not exactly how I imagined this night would end..."
"But didn't you already get laid?"
His expression hardened. "Did you have to bring that up?"
"That's what she said."
He put his hands on her shoulders. "Seriously, Cassie, why did you say that?"
She shrugged. "I dunno... Because it is what you wanted, wasn't it? You always get frustrated with me because you can't go home with the women you want when we're out because I'm your little sister or something like that. I mean, you've never tried to pass me off as your girlfriend and all that, but I —"
He covered her mouth with his hand. "I'm not doing that ever again. I'd rather get you home safe than have to spend another second with that whore."
"Ert ookd layk oo aykd oor," she said, muffled by his hand.
"What was that?"
She rolled her eyes and tugged his wrist so that she could speak. "It looked like you liked her."
"Drop it, Cassie. I don't want to talk about it."
"Oh, come on! I wanna know!"
"Ask me again and I might show you."
"You'd — What? Oh, dear..."
"I was joking."
Much to Shepard's pleasure, she blushed deeply. Her hands shook as she tucked her hair behind her ear, showing off her scars in a rare moment without self-consciousness. "Can I ask you something?"
"I'd rather not while we're in the open," he replied, grabbing her elbow and dragging her back to her quarters. She fidgeted next to him, clearly attempting to hold back her question. "Alright," he muttered. "Ask me."
"Why didn't you ever try anything on me?"
His heart raced, "What are you talking about?"
"I mean, you don't really have many guy friends, and then there's me... I know I'm all innocent and all that, but sometimes you're looking at the shy ones..."
"You don't want to ask me this."
"But I asked, didn't I?"
He tightened his grip on her arm. "Think about it. Think really hard."
"...Because you don't like me like that?"
"Exactly."
She shrugged apathetically. "Good, because I don't, either."
He blinked. "What?"
"I don't like me like that, either."
"But do you like me like that?"
"Uhm, sometimes. I used to, but now I dunno anymore. You've been all mean and stuff and I don't like that. It hurts, ya know? I may only show my actual feelings as often as you do, but I've still got them. And I don't like the way you're mean to everyone, either. You can be a big bully sometimes, you know?"
Shepard gritted his teeth. They'd been in plenty of arguments, but she'd never come out and insulted him like that. "Maybe it's because there's no one worth the time and effort to be nice to," he growled. "So don't start insulting me, because I've been working my ass off to treat you right ever since Torfan and if all you can do is throw it in my face, then fuck you, Ci-Ci."
She paled and obsequiously shook her head. "I'm sorry, Shep. I didn't mean it, really! It's just that I'm all... woozy and..." She gestured vaguely in an attempt to indicate that she was completely out of it. "Ooh, that was slow... Am I drunk?"
"Very."
"Awesome... What was I saying?"
"Lots of things you'd regret in the morning."
12 April 2183 — Corinthia's quarters, Norfolk
Corinthia woke with a pounding headache and a very vague recollection of leaving the bar, but nothing else much after it (although she was pretty sure that she was in her quarters). Instinctively, she curled up into a tiny ball in an attempt to fall back asleep, but her head would have none of it and after a few moments she willed herself to stand.
"Never again," she muttered, rubbing her temples.
Her home on Earth wasn't much. In all honesty, she'd never bothered to move her stuff out of her apartment on the Citadel from her time studying there to Arcturus or wherever she was stationed. Despite barely having anything, nothing was put away and her bedroom was nothing short of a pit. The only reason the living room had been picked up at all was because Shepard came over often enough that she wanted to make a nice space for him.
After finding a sweatshirt and sandals, she shuffled out of her bedroom towards the kitchen. "Baaaccccoooonnnn..."
She stopped when she saw Shepard sprawled shirtless on her sofa. Like any soldier, he had muscles and, like any girl, she had to look. "Damn..." she breathed, eyes wide.
He moaned groggily, rolled over onto his back, and sat up. "What time is it?"
"I dunno. Didn't look."
Shepard rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and started looking around for his shirt. "Was that you or a zombie that was talking about bacon?"
"Me. Uh... Did you get me home?"
"Obviously."
"And put me in pajamas? Or whatever these are... Are these even mine?"
"I couldn't exactly tell what things on your floor were clean and what weren't."
"...But you did change my clothes."
"You were trying to get out of them, anyway. Not like I haven't seen you half-naked before."
"WHAT?"
"Calm down, Ci-Ci," Shepard muttered, pulling his shirt over his head. "It's not like I've snapped at you for staring."
"Have not!"
He got to his feet. "You don't have to be embarrassed. I didn't see anything other than your back, and even then I've seen more when we get out of our armor after missions."
She was still blushing furiously. "And I was thinking of making you breakfast."
"You'd damn well better. I got your drunken ass home in one piece." He hesitated. "Speaking of which, how much do you remember?"
"Uh..." She screwed up her face in thought. "Up until leaving the bar, but after that's it's all pretty fuzzy... Oh my God, I blacked out? I've never been like that before! I didn't do anything stupid, did I?"
"Other than attempting to chase down shiny things, no, you didn't," he lied. Honestly, he was relieved that she didn't remember their conversation or saying what she really thought of him. It didn't meant that he didn't want an apology for it.
"You're lying," she murmured.
"And you know this how?"
"It's... I can't explain it. You just sounded different, that's all. We've been at each other's throats lately and then you'd walk me home and be all gentleman like... Urgh. I don't know what's wrong with me."
He didn't want to tell her the truth, because she'd freak, but she needed to know how the conversation actually ended. He pulled her down to sit on the sofa next to him. "There's nothing wrong with you," he began. "It's the fact that we're too different."
"Tell me about it," she muttered.
"You called me a big mean bully last night."
She winced. "That's much kinder than my usual insult for you."
"But you're always joking when you tell me that. You were being serious this time. And... you're right."
She blinked. "I'm... what?"
Shepard ignored her. "It's not easy for me to be... nice and gentle and everything that you are. There aren't exactly many people that I think are worth treating like that, so even me complimenting you is... forced. Damn it, that's not the right word. I mean what I say, but I wouldn't ever have said anything if you didn't... ask. I'm doing my best, Ci-Ci, but making me... good is going to take a lot of time and a lot of effort."
She pursed her lips. "I mean... Do you even want to be like that?"
He didn't answer. Honestly, he couldn't. She had this way of making him change, regardless of what he wanted. Sometimes it bothered him, others it didn't, but until he found another friend, he was pretty damn sure that staying with her in any capacity was going to mean changing himself on a base level.
She sighed and shook her head. "So, were we talking about you being nice just to me or to everyone else?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes, but... Oh, whatever. We already know that our friendship isn't over if we get snippy over something. Still... I actually got to you?"
"It is possible."
"Damn... I'm better than I thought." She did a happy dance and stood up. "Now, bacon."