The apartment was alive with the warmth of friends and the laughter. Of one final night spent together. Music played softly in the background, drinks were passed around, and the crew loosened up after what had felt like an endless stretch of battles, missions, and close calls. It was a rare night when they could finally let go—no Reapers, no Cerberus, no missions. The sound of music and laughter mixed with the clinking of glasses, and for once, Shepard could feel the weight of the galaxy slip off his shoulders.
He leaned back on one of the worn leather couches, a drink in hand, and let his gaze wander. He spotted Liara across the room, laughing softly with Tali and Garrus. He smiled, seeing her relaxed, happy, in the middle of all this chaos and couldn't help but feel a little lucky in that moment.
"Hey, Shepard," Jack's voice broke through his thoughts as she flopped down on the couch next to him, a bottle of something strong in her hand. She took a long swig, then set the bottle down between them. "You look like you're thinking too much. Thought this was supposed to be a party."
He chuckled, glancing at her. "I'm relaxing, I swear."
"Yeah? Don't look like it." Jack leaned back, stretching her arms over the back of the couch, her tattoos glinting under the dim lights. Her usual swagger was there, but tonight, there was something else, too. A kind of ease Shepard rarely saw in her. Maybe it was the booze, or maybe the moment, but she didn't look ready to punch anyone, for once.
"Guess I've got a lot on my mind," Shepard admitted, taking another sip from his glass.
Jack snorted. "Well, stop. That's an order."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "That's my line, you know."
"Whatever," Jack grinned, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a tattoo gun. She turned it over in her hand, a mischievous look in her eyes. "Speaking of orders… I've been thinking. You're missing something."
Shepard looked at the tattoo gun, then at Jack. "Oh? And what's that?"
"A tattoo, dumbass. How the hell is Commander Shepard, saviour of the galaxy, walking around without any ink?" She gave him a pointed look, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're a damn blank canvas, and that's a crime."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm not exactly the 'ink' type."
"Yeah, well, lucky for you, I don't care." Jack said, her grin widening as she held up the gun. "I was thinking something badass. Like a skull. Maybe the Omega symbol. Something that says, 'Don't fuck with me.'"
Shepard looked at her, amused. "On me or on you?"
Jack shrugged. "Same difference. I'm the artist, so I get to choose. That's how it works."
He thought about it for a second, but then his eyes drifted back to Liara, still across the room. A different idea came to him, something more personal, more… meaningful.
"How about a bracelet?" he said, surprising even himself.
Jack raised an eyebrow, her smirk faltering just a bit. "A bracelet? Really? That's… soft, Shepard. Didn't think you were into that kinda thing."
"Not just any bracelet," Shepard explained, holding out his right wrist. He nodded toward the asari on the other side of the room.
Jack followed his gaze and returned to his wrist. "I've seen the way she looks at you, and the way you look at her. She's not just some fling. She's it for you, isn't she?"
Shepard's gaze softened as he looked over at Liara, his heart swelling with the truth of it. "Yeah. She's it."
Jack rolled her eyes, but there was something underneath that usual sarcasm—a flash of understanding. "Man, you're getting sentimental on me. Fine, whatever. Your skin, your rules." She shook her head but grabbed his wrist, inspecting it like it was a fresh canvas.
Shepard grinned, knowing Jack well enough by now to see past the snark. This wasn't just some spur-of-the-moment idea to her either, even if she'd never admit it.
"Alright, sit still," she said, flicking on the gun. "I'll give you your damn bracelet. But don't expect me to make it pretty."
She started working, and the hum of the needle filled the space between them. Shepard watched as the ink slowly began to take shape—a series of intertwined lines, beautiful but with an edge to them, just like Jack. The bracelet circled his wrist like a permanent reminder of everything that mattered—his crew, his mission, and the one he loved.
As she worked, Jack didn't say much, but Shepard could sense the weight of the moment. She wasn't just marking him. She was making a promise, even if she'd never say it out loud.
When she finished, Jack pulled back, wiping the ink clean with a rough cloth. The bracelet was complete—stark, minimalist, but unmistakably Jack.
"There," she said, leaning back to admire her work. "Not too bad, considering you wanted something so boring."
Shepard looked down at his wrist, running his thumb over the new tattoo. "It's perfect."
Jack rolled her eyes again, but there was the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. "Don't get all emotional on me, Shepard. It's just ink."
"Sure," he said, though they both knew it was more than that.
Jack stood up, tossing the cloth onto the table. "Alright, you've had your moment. Go show your blue girlfriend before I puke from all the feelings in here."
She started to walk away, but then paused, her back to him. "And hey, Shepard," she called over her shoulder, her voice quieter than usual. "If you ever do end up lying in some rubble, missing a limb or something..."
He smiled, watching her go. "I know."
Jack didn't look back, but Shepard could see the tension in her shoulders ease as she disappeared into the crowd.
Shepard glanced down at the tattoo again, feeling the weight of its meaning settle deep within him. It was more than just a mark of his bond with Liara—it was a promise of the moment, an affirmation of hope, a symbol of his bond with the people who had become his family. And in that moment, he knew that no matter what happened, no matter how dark things got, he wasn't alone.
He had them. He had her. And with that, he'd never stop fighting to make it back.
Even if it meant crawling through the rubble.