"Looks like the Doc did you some good." Anderson's eyes appraised him as he sat. His former captain had gratefully already ordered him a drink, and Shepard settled back in his seat, swallowing a bit as he did.
"Wonders of modern medicine." He murmured, shrugging. Truthfully, having all of those broken bones healed had been a bitch. Not to mention the round the clock supervision. Chakwas had deemed him at-risk, and refused to allow him any time alone that he could potentially use to escape. It was finally decided that, after a maddening amount of time, he was allowed to leave his bed.
It hadn't taken him long to ditch the wheelchair and sling. She had said he'd be fit for duty in no time – he decided to take her words literally.
Anderson gave a disapproving hmm, but said nothing more of it. The weathered captain raised his glass to drink, and Shepard followed suit.
"So, throwing me in with Council – that your idea of a thank you?" Anderson's dark brows furrowed in irritation.
Shepard frowned, guilt prickling over his skin. "You heard what they said, Anderson. Those idiots think it's done – that the Reapers are just some boogeymen trapped in dark space, and now that Saren and Sovereign are dealt with, they're free to just continue fucking around. They have no intention of preparing us for the invasion." Shepard sighed, leaning forward to run a hand through his hair. It was shorter than usual – Chakwas had taken it upon herself to do some grooming while he was out. "You're our only chance at getting them back on track. I mean, shit, Saren brought in a damn army and blew up half the Citadel and all they can do is say thanks? That I've done them a service they can never repay? They can fucking repay me by fighting the Reapers."
Shepard shook his head, pausing his tirade to take another drink. With everything that had happened, it was needed, and it was damn good. Anderson met his gaze steadily as he continued. "They're going to try and push this under the rug. I know it. Spending the resources required to prepare for a Reaper invasion wouldn't be a popular choice. The Council position was just a way to pacify humanity after we gave up half our fleet. Its bullshit, but we have to try to use it. Try and gain some pull, get their help. We can't face the Reapers alone, and we can't afford to waste any time trying to convince Udina to pull his head out of his ass long enough to realize the threat. You're our only option."
Anderson studied Shepard for a moment, his dark eyes serious. "You're sure they're coming?"
"They're coming, Anderson. It's only a matter of time."
The captain sighed, leaning back in his chair. The bar bustled around them. It was one of the few intact after the attack, and business was apparently thriving. Nothing like a Reaper fucking up the station to make you crave the strong stuff. "I'm losing track of the amount of favors you owe me, Shepard." Despite the gravity of the situation, his lips twitched upwards.
Shepard smirked back at him. "I know it. But at least it's not only my ass you're pulling out of the fire this time." Anderson grunted in agreement. "And you can't tell me punching out Udina didn't feel at least a little good."
The captain gave him a rare smile and chuckled. "That it did." He took a swig of his drink, his eyes growing curious again. "Where are you taking the old girl next?"
"Council wants me on the geth." Shepard grunted, rolling his eyes. Fucking idiots. "I need to start finding a way for us to fight the Reapers. Fuck knows that'll keep me occupied. And I still have eyes out for Cerberus - I'm done letting those assholes sit on the backburner."
Anderson frowned, shaking his head. "You need to learn to let go, Shepard. Hackett's already got teams out searching for Cerberus, but they're damn slippery. Focus on the geth. Focus on finding information about the Reapers."
"The geth are hardly even a threat, now that we killed their damn god. They're disorganized. The Council is only sending me so I'm not on their asses. But Cerberus is a fucking terrorist organization, and I want it gone. They're the most immediate threat." He growled, trying to justify the overwhelming need he had to hunt those bastards down. His confinement in the med bay had given him time to think – too much time. Besides the Doc's constant, silent supervision and the sporadic visits from his crew, he had been uncomfortably alone. Ash was oddly absent. After waking up to her at his bedside, she had left quickly, barely rambling an excuse, and had never returned.
Tell a woman you love her, and she disappears. Fucking typical.
In an effort not to think about exactly what that meant, he resorted to thinking about topics he was more comfortable with. Anger. Regret. His mind became preoccupied with the beacon's vision, with Sovereign's lingering, taunting words. With the damn memories that never seemed to leave him. He had a resurgence of nightmares, waking up haunted by the voices of those he had lost. Those he had failed. He needed something, some purpose, to help him forget. And with the Reapers hiding out in dark space, Cerberus was the only viable option to go after next. He needed them dead.
His old captain watched him critically. "You're letting old wounds fester, Shepard. Leave it be."
"The Reapers are still my priority, Anderson." His voice was low as he met the intensity in the man's brown eyes. "But it isn't something I'm going to let go. I can't." Shepard muttered, and his eyes fell to his hand, still grasped around the glass of amber liquid. He heard Anderson's heavy sigh.
"Well, it's not like you've ever listened to me anyway." Anderson grumbled, leaning forward again. "Just watch yourself, Owen. Keep your head on straight. I know how you get when things hit too close to home." Shepard just grunted, taking another drink. "Your crew staying on?"
"Some." Shepard said simply, glancing back up and finding Anderson waiting for him to elaborate. "Tali is going back to the Flotilla once we find her some decent intel on the geth. Wrex – "
"Wrex?"
"The krogan." Shepard grunted in exasperation. "He headed back to Tuchanka already. Said something about uniting the krogan. Probably the best damn preparations that are being made for the Reapers." The commander let out a sigh, a hand running through his too-short hair again. "Garrus is staying on for a while, but he's thinking about applying for Spectre training." The news had been surprising, but welcome. The turian would make a damn fine Spectre – a hell of a lot better one than he – and a second person with access to the Council would be a huge benefit. "Liara is going to search for more Prothean ruins to try and find more information on them and their fight."
"Good. No sense in making the same mistakes." Anderson nodded his approval. "And Chief Williams?"
Shepard frowned, unsure what to say. They hadn't discussed it, because they hadn't discussed anything since the attack on the Citadel. He had assumed she would want to stay on the Normandy. But apparently, he had misread things. His stomach churned at the thought. "I don't know."
"You don't know?" Anderson's brows shot up.
"She hasn't said." Shepard's hand came up to rub the back of his neck. "She hasn't asked for reassignment, but she hasn't said. Anything. She knows I want her there…" He sighed again, reaching compulsively for his drink. "Fuck, I don't know."
Anderson considered him for a moment, then a smile played on the older man's lips. "She seemed keen on finding you in the Council chambers."
"She's a marine. Of course she did." Shepard grumbled, his brow furrowing. "No one left behind."
"It was more than that. That woman was driving my team goddamn crazy. She wasn't just a soldier looking for her commander." Anderson eyed him speculatively. "Just apologize."
Shepard gaped. "For what? Almost dying?" For that night before Ilos? "For saving the Council instead of our own troops? For making a decision she didn't agree with?" For wanting her, needing her, every day since? Or for loving her, and saying it too soon? "I can't just apologize without knowing what I did. I… She just disappeared. She's gone."
"Christ, Shepard. You've got this all or nothing mindset with everything you do. Always have." Anderson sighed, as if reminiscing, and shook his head. "Women are a mystery, Owen. But I doubt she's going anywhere. Just give her time." Shepard's brow furrowed again, considering. Time for what? She had promised that after Saren, after he came back to her, she would tell him how she felt. This is her telling you, dumbass. A hand ran again over his hair. "This isn't to say I condone fraternization." Anderson grumbled, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away. "But I think I can manage overlooking it for the Hero of the Citadel."
"Damn it, Anderson. You too?" Shepard frowned as his captain stood, effectively finishing his drink as he did. The Spectre stood up with him.
"Better get used to it. You're a goddamn celebrity now." The captain clapped him on the back as he groaned. "Good talking, Shepard. Let me know if you need anything. I'll be in touch."
Shepard watched the man leave, wondering when it would stop feeling like he was still just some kid Anderson pulled out of the ass end of nowhere. He stood there for a moment, unsure of his next move. He didn't need to be back on the Normandy - they wouldn't be leaving the station for a few more days. And anyway, all that waited for him there was a shitload of questions. He settled back into his seat, trailing his thumb over the rim of his glass.
He tried to focus his thoughts back on the Reapers. On Cerberus. On anything except for her. But as his thumb dragged itself again around the rim, the amber liquid reminded him of her brandy eyes, and it was a lost cause. She didn't love him. It was something he could deal with, something he understood. But losing her completely…
Fuck, he missed her.
"Is this seat taken?"
The unfamiliar voice interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up at the tall, thin, elegantly dressed woman in front of him. She gave him a sly smile and didn't bother waiting for him to answer, sliding herself into Anderson's abandoned seat.
What the shit is this.
"Can I help you?" His voice was low and gruff, but the predatory expression on the woman's face didn't waver. She leaned forward eagerly.
"Commander Shepard, my name is Khalisah Bint Sinan Al-Jilani." A well-manicured hand pushed back a few strands of her short hair, before settling back on the table and sliding a little too close. "And I would love to buy you a drink."
xxxxxxxxx
"And there's our favorite squatter, reemerging from the underground. Decide we're okay to talk to yet, or are you just trying to escape before Shepard sees you?"
Ashley tensed, turning from the airlock to face the pilot. He had given no indication that he noticed her approach, but he had now swiveled his seat around to face her. The soldier sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Shut it, Joker."
"So you are escaping!" Joker's brow quirked. "Shepard really that bad in the sack? I knew that man had to have a flaw. No wonder he never keeps a woman around long."
"Jesus!" She probably could have strangled him, if she wasn't sure she'd break the bones in his neck. "It has nothing to do with Shepard. I just want some fresh air."
The soldier wasn't sure if it was a lie or not. She knew the pilot's accusations weren't far from the truth. She had been avoiding Shepard. She had almost lost him, and the pain had been surreal. It made no sense. She had never felt as helpless as she did while she sat under that rubble, never felt that out of control, and the feeling frightened her. And she knew, with him, with his damn insistence on getting himself into mortal danger on a regular basis that it would happen again. And again. He might be able to just dive in, ignore what the constant, inevitable threat meant to them. But she wasn't about to just let him make her fall in love so he could go and die on her.
Oh please, Williams. As if you haven't already.
"Uh huh. Well, the guy is looking like a lost puppy. More than normal, and that's saying something. It's really putting a damper on the celebrations. So let him down easy, will you? I was getting used to the new, improved, slightly-less-moody-Shepard. He was a fun guy."
Ashley glared at the pilot. "Okay, Joker, seriously not any of your business."
"Just one concerned citizen of the Normandy to another. And do it soon, will you? It's not nice to let him dangle, and I'd like him to be somewhere where he won't punch holes into the hull."
"I'm not…" Ashley sighed and rolled her eyes again. She had no idea what she was planning on doing. She thought that putting some distance between them would help clear things up. That now, after everything, she'd have time to sort through exactly what she felt for that infuriating man. But she still was just as confused. She knew she cared for him, that it almost definitely went deeper than that. But how could she just forget? Just disregard that feeling of complete, helpless loss and move forward with him? She sighed and waved her hand at the small man dismissively. "I'm going for a drink."
Joker grinned. "Maybe you have spent too much time with him." Ashley offered a choice gesture in return and walked through the airlock.
Her walk across the station didn't bring any of the clarity she wanted it to. She had thought maybe time away from her bench, from the Normandy, would clear her head and give her better insight on the situation. But it was the same. She knew the man was a mess, knew he'd probably always be a mess. She could handle that. She could be there when he was unsure. She could be there when something set him off, when he was lost. She would always try and bring him back, always try to help him. But she didn't know how she could be there when he wasn't – when he was knocking on death's door, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Watching them haul him back to that hospital bed, bloody and broken, unable to help. Watching him struggle again, just like after Virmire… It wasn't something she was ever going to be ready for.
And he just kept doing it.
He had said he'd try, that he would be more careful. But he never was. He threw himself at Saren - hell, even at Sovereign - like he was invincible, then expected everyone else to do the same. She knew he was just making what he thought was the best decision when he chose to save the Council, but he sacrificed those marines for the sake of an ineffective, alien government. He may have thought those soldiers were just doing their duty, that because he was willing to do whatever it took, they should be too. But it wasn't cowardice to want to live another day, to not want to be thrown against near impossible odds without a plan. Not everyone had his damn good fortune.
It wasn't cowardice to take a step back and think it through.
You just keep telling yourself that, Williams.
The soldier drew in a breath and took in the Citadel's ruined vista, trying to catch sight of somewhere that was still in business. It did feel good, at least, to get away from the rest of the team's prying eyes. Her absence from Shepard's side had apparently been noted, because they had all been watching her like she was about to do something terrible. Like it's any of their business. She knew it was a consequence of getting involved with a superior, but it was still damn annoying. It wasn't like she was some sort of sexual predator, and she had definitely not been banking on him confessing his love for her the minute she decided to risk acting impulsive.
Not that she regretted that - it was damn fantastic. And then, in that warm bubble in his cabin, she had been ready. It was so easy then to just forget that there was more to their puzzle. That there was so much more they had to consider before they could move forward. So there, she had promised him those words, because she did love that Shepard. She loved Owen, the man who had held her, naked and honest and carefree, and more damn handsome than he had any right to be. But that wasn't always the man he was, and she didn't know how to deal with the one that kept trying to kill them both.
Ashley rounded a corner and came across a likely looking bar. It was buzzing with people of all different species, coming and going despite the Citadel's current state. Oh, thank God. She was beginning to think that the geth had had it out for all of the station's finer establishments. The soldier ducked in, picking her way through the crowd and straight towards the bar. Her hands hit the rail and she flagged the asari behind it.
"Tequila."
She'd probably regret it like she always did, but hell, she was on shore leave. And now seemed like a damn good occasion. The asari nodded, grabbed a non-descript bottle, and poured. Ashley handed over her credits and slammed it back.
It was horrible.
"This is not tequila."
"Closest thing we've got, hon."
Ashley glared at her, but pushed her glass forward. "Give me another." A nod and a pour, and she took the glass and turned towards the room. It was packed, swimming with a frazzled bunch of Citadel citizens no doubt out to forget their homes had just been destroyed by a bunch of walking flashlights. She sipped, then spluttered, partly because of how truly horrible the crap was, but mostly because of who she saw.
Shepard's chiseled features were wearing their usual grimace as he spoke to some overdressed, over-groomed woman sitting across from him. Ashley slammed back her drink, her blood pounding in her ears as her eyes fell on the pair of them again. The woman let out a shrill, too loud giggle. Seriously? She could feel her grip tighten around her glass. One week, and he's out at a bar picking up some whore? She slammed her glass down on the bar.
Oh, hell no.
Her feet were moving before she could stop them, her eyes shooting daggers as she watched the woman lean forward towards him. Her hand reached out and brushed his.
"Get your hand off of him." Her voice was low and commanding, and the woman pulled back from her caress, startled. Ashley's popped her hip and she stood tall, looking down at the frail, skinny woman in front of her - she had no chance. "Who the hell are you?"
"Excuse me?" The whore had the audacity to sound both bewildered and disgusted, and Shepard choked on his drink just behind her. She heard him stand.
"Ash? What are you doing here?"
"Oh, shut it, Skipper. I'll deal with you later." She hissed over her shoulder, taking in the confusion in his eyes, before settling back on the whore. "I said, who the hell are you?"
The woman looked back at her, probably trying to gauge the situation, before something seemed to register with her. Her expression grew into something that resembled a fox sniffing out a particularly tasty bit of rabbit. Her eyes wandered up and down Ashley, seeming to record the details. "You're an Alliance marine?"
"Damn right I am." Ashley hissed back, meeting the woman's conniving eyes. What is she up to?
"Perhaps part of Shepard's crew? He mentioned how close you all are, but I think he understated it. This does explain a lot. I guess he wasn't lying about being unattached."
The soldier blinked, her brow furrowing as she watched the woman's lips curl. "What are you talking about?"
"What the fuck are you up to, Khalisah?" Shepard's growling voice was at her back, and he took a step forward, green eyes fiery as he watched the olive-skinned woman.
"An Alliance marine, and part of Commander Shepard's team. You must be Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams!" The woman looked almost giddy, glancing between the two of them as if she'd just been let in on a secret. "Granddaughter of disgraced General Williams - the man behind the fall of Shanxi." She slid out of her seat and stood, licking her lips. The woman was predatory. "And now, fighting the disgrace by trying to sleep your way to the top with the Alliance's bad boy. You two make quite the pair."
Ashley watched as she did it, as her muscles tensed and her blood boiled, as her fist drew back and swung forward. The woman was on the ground in an instant, looking shocked, a hand coming up to cradle her reddening face. The bar hushed around them, and a moment passed before Khalisah regained her voice.
"I'll get you for that, bitch!" The whore hissed, glaring up at her.
Shepard stepped forward. He looked in awe, unsure what to do. Ashley rolled her eyes. "I'd like to see you try."
"You have no idea who you're dealing with!" The woman hissed, flicking her gaze between her and Shepard. "I am Khalisah Al-Jalani! This is going straight to Westerlund News. I hope you're ready for it to be broadcast all over the Citadel!"
That seemed to snap Shepard out of it. "Westerlund – you're a fucking reporter?!"
"Bingo, jackass." The woman struggled to her feet. Ashley noticed the several on-lookers looking disappointed and turning back to their drinks. "I hope you enjoy the special we're putting out on you. I'll make sure to include a lovely bit on your views of fraternization." Khalisah sneered, her hand still held firmly over her face, and she stomped out of the bar. Ashley closed her eyes and took a deep breath, considering exactly how deep she had dug herself in this time. When she opened them, she looked at Shepard, a hand running over his dark hair as he met her gaze.
"Well, fuck."