Earth - Five years later

Trish was carefully weighing up her options. It had been 10 months since she graduated from university and more than a few since she was offered a full time position at the tech company she had done her internship at. At some point she'd have to take her mother's advice and give serious thought to which country or planet she wanted to settle down in and what company she wanted a career with, but tonight she was interested in much more mundane things.

Her attention, along with about three-quarters of the bar, was caught by the lady in a red dress making her way down the stairs. It was a very nice dress to be sure, but the woman inside wasn't to her preferred tastes so she let her eyes drift on, taking in the contents of a rather nice and rather tight pair of jeans.

The bar was heaving with people, military and civilians alike, and even out of uniform she could mostly tell them apart. It wasn't long before a clamoring racket had Trish glancing over to find two marines chugging from yard glasses as their comrades cheered the men on. There had undoubtedly been bets on the result if the cries of dismay were anything to go by, although it didn't seem to make much difference as they all picked up shots from a tray in the centre of the table, downing them with gusto. There were more than a few good looking people in that crowd but if their clothing was any indicator then they'd left the barracks with other intentions than trying to pull tonight.

...

Trish was crossing the dance floor on the way to the bar when she was caught by a passerby who decided to skip the usual pleasantries and attempted to start grinding with her. She was enraged and repulsed but sadly not entirely shocked. She attempted to get away, politely at first, in this day and age sometimes that was enough. Of course this time, like a lot of the time, it didn't work and she had to shove them away. When they came right back she was forced to employ a slap but that just seemed to spur the drunk on rather than deter them. Great one of those. A lot of other women would start panicking about now but Trish had one final, surefire trick up her sleeve, quite literally in this case. She just needed to reach her omni-tool and...

"You know, I could be wrong, but I don't think she's interested." A voice interrupted, followed by a solitary pair of well toned arms pushing distance between her and the 'dancer'.

"Oh, what makes you think that?" Came the malevolent reply.

"You mean aside from body language, the dagger glare and the slap?" The voice was strange, somehow it managed to sound carefree and lighthearted, potentially amused even, and yet it still contained an undercurrent of warning. Unfortunately the warning seemed to go right over the intended target's head, her savior clearly noticed too, suddenly switching tactics, her voice lowering dangerously. "Aside from all that, there's the fact she's with me."

Trish suppressed a groan, this particular white knight routine had been in existence for decades, centuries even, although bizarrely it often worked. Right now it was 50/50 whether her knight was a genuinely good person or someone who saw the situation and decided to turn it to their advantage, hoping for a 'reward' from a grateful damsel. Either way, it was rare to sell the act without at least a kiss.

Trish tried to prepare herself mentally, it was important not to show surprise or disgust when the stranger kissed or the game would be up. She could deal with the knight once they were away from the creep. The truth however was that she was surprised, no matter how well she hid it, when instead of a kiss the other woman simply took her hand, intertwining their fingers "Come on dear, let's go."

Hand holding had to be the least invasive thing the woman could have done, and yet in a world of easy, care-free sex it was possibly the most intimate action Trish could think of. Sure, sex with strangers would involve roaming hands everywhere, but holding hands was something restricted to people you had actual affection for, it was a strange, twisted thought that threw her through a loop and she hadn't even seen her knight's face yet. She could feel slight calluses on the hand as she was led away though, a sure sign of someone who worked with their hands, or possibly fired guns.

"Sorry about that." The I'm 98% sure she's some kind of military woman said as she let go of her hand and Trish's suddenly felt cold and empty without the contact. "I've never understood why but some people seem to think being with someone else is the only possible reason anyone could turn them down... And yet most the time the people thinking that are the ones you couldn't imagine anyone sane wanting to be with..." She shook her head as if it was one of the greatest mysteries of the universe and Trish would have laughed if she didn't have a very important point to make.

"Thanks but it was under control. I didn't actually need rescuing." The probably a soldier looked over at her appraisingly, gifting her with the first sight of her face and suddenly Trish decided she wouldn't have minded terribly if she had been kissed. While the media had a fascination with blue or green eyes preferably combined with blonde or red hair, she'd always had a weakness for brown eyes and this pair were staring out of a very attractive face.

"I didn't say you did, but at least this way they wake up in the morning and have to go to work with a raging hangover like the rest of us. Not take it easy in some hospital bed all week." This time Trish did laugh.

"That's your idea of justice?" The raven haired beauty was saved from having to answer by the barmaid asking for their order. Trish jumped slightly at the intrusion and silently chastised herself, she'd been so caught up in the other woman's presence that she hadn't even noticed they'd made it to the bar.

"Twelve shots of tequila, five lagers, three bitters, two apple ciders, one pear cider, a G&T, stick something on your own tab for when your shift's finished and..." The woman looked at her eyebrow raised inquiringly, Trish didn't need asking twice.

"SoCo and lemonade."

"... a SoCo and lemonade." She repeated. There was a slightly awkward silence as they waited for the drinks. Trish desperately scanning her brain for something to say but coming up empty. In the end her mouth decided to come up with something itself, never a good sign, and her ears strained to inform the brain what disaster they'd just fallen in.

"I take it you're not driving tonight then." Idiot, thanks mouth. For a moment the woman looked at her as if she'd grown a second head before releasing a chuckle.

"It's not all for me." She clarified the obvious. "Pretty sure they'd kick me out the corps if I downed that much solo... Mind you, I'd be a barracks legend for generations!" She said the last part as if it would almost be worth losing her job for. Called it, military. Yeah thanks, wasn't exactly hard to work that one out brain.

"For the record though: no, I'm not driving." They were moving again, the soldier now carrying a very large tray of drinks. They stopped at a small, empty table, the SoCo removed from the tray and placed in front of her. To her surprise the mystery lady than opened her hand, offering her a choice of several still individually wrapped twirlers from the bar. It was a testament to how far technology had come (and at the same time how much society remained the same) that the small sticks that changed colour if drugs were detected in a drink were available en masse and completely free in so many bars.

Normally Trish would pick a couple up herself whenever she got a drink and she found it disconcerting that she'd been too distracted to do so. The soldier before her was either insanely thoughtful and considerate, or engaged in some kind of double bluff. She looked at the selection of twirlers before her, it was always possible one of them could be fake, there were psychological tricks to get a person to pick the item you wanted from a selection of seemingly identical objects and Trish couldn't for the life of her remember what they were. She took the whole selection, rolling them in her hand, throwing them haphazardly onto the table and picking one at random, opening it up and sticking it in her drink.

"Well, I hope the rest of your night goes better." The stranger picked the tray back up, turning to leave, completely throwing Trish through a loop for a second time. Sure, not every hot lady on Earth was gay and even those who were were allowed to have different tastes and standards. But she'd been sure she'd caught this one checking her out at least once, even if she had been relatively discreet about it.

"Wait, what! That's it? You save a woman from a creep, buy her a drink and then just walk away? Most people would consider that a very good start." The woman turned back towards her with a surprisingly shy smile.

"Well... you've already had one bad experience for the night, figured I best quit while I was ahead." Trish snorted.

"Quit while you're ahead?... Better not let your CO hear you talking like that soldier! Besides, I expect you're a much better dance partner than grinder creep."

"Actually I don't dance. At all. In any way."

"Never?"

"Never. Can't dance in fact."

"Really? Is my next line supposed to be I'll teach you? Very smooth." Confusion swam in those chocolatey eyes a moment before they lightened as she laughed.

"Wow, I did not think of that one. I think you vastly over estimate my flirting skills."

"Oh? Are you going to tell me you can't flirt next?" Before the soldier could respond an overly muscled and heavily tattooed arm came down between them.

"Shepard! What happened? You're supposed to be getting the drinks." Shepard... No, surely not. She took a closer look at the woman opposite, past the short cropped hair and the slightly paler skin, properly looked at the shape of her nose and curve of her lips. She had aged certainly, was more world-weary perhaps, eyes looking older than their what must she be now twenty? twenty-one? years, but there was no mistake. How had she not noticed? Well probably cos I thought she was dead! As the man departed with the squad's drink tray Shepard turned her attention back on her.

"Nikki?" The soldier gave the slightest nod of agreement as her eyes narrowed in bewilderment before jumping wide open with realisation.

"Holy... Trish!?" A large smile covered the marine's face as she shook her head in disbelief, index finger on her right hand rubbing over her left eyebrow in what Trisha remembered used to be an unconscious sign of embarrassment in her former girlfriend. "Wow... I am so sorry... I can't believe I didn't recognise you." There was a beat where they just stared at each other, drinking in the familiarities and slight differences of time before Nikki came back with: "I blame your new hair style."

"My hair! What about your hair? What happened to it?" Without any thought Trish reached forward brushing her fingers through the short hair. It had been at least three, probably four, times longer last time she saw Nikki.

"It got cut." There was that trademark Shepard smirk and for a moment it was like they'd never been apart. For the third time that evening they were rudely interrupted, this time the sounds of smashing glass breaking their reverie. Trish suddenly noticed her hand was still on the back of the youngster's neck and moved away. Five years was a long time. She'd had multiple relationships since then, no doubt Nikki had the same, perhaps even with more success. Besides, even if her ex was single... people changed and feelings faded, she couldn't expect to just pick things up where they left off. She searched for a safe topic.

"So, uh... the marines. Never figured you'd join the Alliance."

"Yeah... Me neither... Family farm didn't have the same appeal without the family." Her eyes went distant and haunted, a sad edge creeping into her voice and Trish cursed herself. The melancholy didn't last long however, it was almost as if Shepard wrapped it all up in a blanket and threw it out the window.

"Got in as a mechanic actually. All those Earth street runaways and bored colonials in search of excitement just want the combat roles, leaves the Alliance screaming out for skilled craftsmen."

"So does that mean you don't actually have to be in the middle of the fighting then?" Trish asked.

"Ha, no, they've still got that lovely 'Every marine's a rifleman' slogan. Especially when the grunts break their IFVs in the middle of battle and need a recovery vehicle to tow them out. What about you though? Last I saw of you, you thought writing complex software code was a hobby."

"Yeah... turned that hobby into a degree, then a job. Still not sure how."

"You're brainy Trish. Always were." Their conversation drifted then, covering all sorts of topics and it seemed like no time at all until the call went out for last orders and they had to leave, waiting outside for the taxi rank to refill after the sudden mass exodus.

"So, uhh... It was real nice seeing you again Trish." Just like that the brash, confident marine was gone, replaced with the nervous teen she remembered so well from her youth.

"Same. You want to meet up again some time? Grab some food or a drink or, I don't know, something?"

"Yeah. I'd like that."

"You free Saturday?" All of a sudden Nikki's face dropped.

"Shit, I can't. Sorry Trish, I... FUCK! We're shipping out tomorrow... or, well, later today now I suppose. This was the farewell piss-up. Here's to three or four weeks tee-totalism until someone gets a distillery set up onboard." She raised her hand in an imaginary toast. "I... Sorry." Trish felt her heart sink. To find Nikki alive and well after all these years only to lose her again the very same night... She did NOT appreciate fate's sense of humour. No. Of all the bars in all the galaxy, the odds of running into each other like this had to be pretty slim, no way was she going to miss her chance.

"Well... How about when you get back? Do you have an email or anything? We could keep in touch."

"Yeah. I'd like that." She repeated and it was hard to tell what shone brighter, Nikki's smile or her omni-tool as she brought it up to forward Trish the details, just as a cab pulled up to separate them once more.

...

A lot of the crew seemed to be suffering from lingering hangovers Shepard noticed as she stowed away her gear in her newly assigned locker. Her own head surprisingly hadn't been too bad, probably as a result of all the talking interfering with what should have been prime drinking time. Her jaw on the other hand ached with a burn she was more accustomed to on her arms or legs after a heavy workout, she couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed and smiled so much in a single night. A notification rung out on her omni-tool and she glanced down to read it.

[Hey, so I had the weirdest dream last night. Turns out you're alive and joined the army. How crazy is that!? - Trish Stewart]

[That is so weird. How does your brain even come up with such insane ideas? I mean really, army? I'm Marine corps, Oorah! :) - Nikki 'Not a zombie honest' Shepard]

...

Author's note: There we go, a whole chapter without any death and destruction. You didn't even have to wait 5 years for the reunion like the characters. Good news is I not only have plenty of ideas for the next section of the story but several chapters with first drafts or at least half written so we should be good for weekly updates for this story for a while. I would also like to apologise to eurodox59, I just realised the last review I got from you was about how every new chapter put a smile on your face and then I churned out the three darkest, miserable, heavy chapters of the story so far back to back, it wasn't deliberate I swear. Rest assured that while Shepard is destined for great tragedy in her future, the next few chapters are all light.