Chapter Text
It was almost perfect.
It came closer than anything else Shepard had ever known, anything else he’d never let himself dream about. Kaidan, slumped on the ground with his fatigues on one of the mats next to him, leg splayed around Shepard’s lap, and Shepard touching the small of his back under the fabric of his tee, the little dimples above his hipbones and flanking his spine. It was one of his favorite spots in the galaxy, definitely on Arcturus, and Shepard couldn’t stop touching it, the smell and the feel and the warmth and everything.
It would’ve been completely perfect if the whole Finch thing wasn’t still hanging over his head. But if wishes were fishdogs, Shepard never would’ve gone hungry when he was running with the Reds. Running the Reds, even.
Right now, there was nothing between his mouth and Kaidan’s skin, Kaidan’s sweat, and lying to himself was impossible. Kaidan would feel it; Shepard didn’t want things to go sour that way. Not again.
But he was always throwing other guys for a loop. He was the frag grenade, getting out of the blast zone before what he set down lit up the sky.
He rubbed Kaidan’s skin. And the swell of his body as he breathed, in and out and so damn steady, kept Shepard’s breathing even on the other side.
It was dark, but Shepard’s internal clock—set to standard Alliance time these days—was telling him it was getting too late, or too early, to hang around pretending they’d solved everything and all they needed was each other. Shepard knew all about conditions inside a vacuum now, how long a guy could last before the pressure vaporized him. He closed his eyes and swallowed; he knew when Kaidan felt the impulse, sensed the change.
‘Hey,’ Kaidan said. ‘What’re you… What’re you thinking?’
‘The usual stuff,’ Shepard replied.
‘…Gonna tell me what that is?’ Kaidan asked.
Shepard swallowed again, knuckles curling against Kaidan’s spine. ‘Mostly that you’re hot—burning up, even. That these mats are pretty damn uncomfortable for lying around on and that, crazy mom with a Kessler aside, your bed back on Vancouver’s way better for this kind of thing.’ Actually saying stuff out loud was just like hotwiring a transport; once the sparks were flying, all you had to do was build up some momentum—and try not to crash the damn thing. But Shepard had never been top of his class behind the steering wheel. ‘And, you know. That I’ve gotta take care of this Finch situation.’
‘That we’ve gotta…’ Kaidan paused.
There was that crash Shepard was bracing for.
‘He’s not your problem,’ Shepard said.
‘Yeah,’ Kaidan replied. ‘He definitely is.’
‘He’s a big problem,’ Shepard said.
‘I’ve had big problems,’ Kaidan replied.
If they hadn’t been talking about what they were talking about, the conversation would’ve been easy. Just like holding Kaidan was almost perfect, it came close—but it missed the mark last second.
‘I was in this program,’ Kaidan continued. There was another crash, but Shepard hadn’t prepared for it. ‘For biotics training on Jump Zero. Back then, we all called it Brain Camp. But it didn’t exactly… It didn’t work out. Some things happened there I wasn’t—that I’m still not proud of.’
Shepard wanted to tell him to stop. It was the right thing to do—or at least the noble thing, which around here counted for the same. Kaidan didn’t have to explain himself to anyone, least of all to a guy like Shepard. Shepard hadn’t earned that yet. But then, it didn’t feel like his place to tell Kaidan what he could and couldn’t talk about.
Shepard didn’t set limits. He broke them.
‘Can’t win ’em all,’ he said, in place of what he wanted to. At least that much was the truth. Even rich kids who’d grown up with every advantage an Earth upbringing had to offer wound up with their fair share of problems. It was just the way of the galaxy.
Kaidan nodded, but Shepard could tell he wasn’t really listening. He was somewhere else, a place Shepard had never been, remembering things Shepard hadn’t been a part of. Judging by the look on his face, Shepard could assume he should be glad he wasn’t there, but that it stuck around—that he remembered every part of it as clear as if he was still living it.
‘This was back in the…experimental days of human biotics,’ Kaidan said. His hand was on Shepard’s shoulder, thumb tracing distracted patterns back and forth over his collarbone. It’d broken once, set wrong, and Kaidan was feeling the old crack—not that it hurt anymore, just that it was obvious. ‘They didn’t have anyone to teach us, so they hired this old turian commander to do it.’
‘Badass,’ Shepard said.
They both knew he didn’t mean it. Someone had to keep the pressure off in this conversation, and the only way Shepard knew how was to keep poking holes in it.
‘Yeah,’ Kaidan said. ‘He might’ve been, if he wasn’t so old that he was still living in the First Contact war. I think he hated most of us on sight, which didn’t make for a real positive learning environment.’
Shepard had a good sense for when to cut ties and run. His instincts had saved him on countless jobs—knowing when a situation was about to explode in his face gave him the few seconds he needed to duck any impact before it hit him square on.
Kaidan wasn’t a bad decision about to kick him in the gut, but the story he was telling gave Shepard that same feeling. He dug his knuckles into Kaidan’s spine, giving him a rub just to remind him of where he was.
‘So what?’ Shepard asked. ‘He failed you?’
‘I killed him,’ Kaidan said. ‘…It’s kind of a long story.’
‘I don’t know.’ Shepard took a moment. It made sense and it didn’t at the same time, exactly like Kaidan himself. ‘I think you just told it.’
‘That wasn’t all.’ Kaidan was still breathing, but it wasn’t steady anymore. The shaky heat ghosted over Shepard’s jaw the way Kaidan’s fingers shaped the broken bone beneath a few freckles neither of them could see. ‘They shut the place down after, covered the whole thing up, and I guess… For a while, I didn’t really trust myself. When push came to shove, obviously… I pushed back and it was too hard.’
‘So you hung out at places like Inferno, wasting time and pretending anybody would believe a face like yours belonged with the rest of us,’ Shepard said.
‘Yeah,’ Kaidan replied. ‘I guess I did.’
‘This turian,’ Shepard asked. ‘Did he hurt you?’
Kaidan paused. There was another kind of heat Shepard didn’t know how to name—the one that’d put him between Kaidan and danger every time, despite his better instincts. It was pure, grade-a dumbass, but there was no changing it now.
‘Not me,’ Kaidan said at last. ‘It was this girl I knew. Rahna. We…liked each other, I guess. And I always thought something might come out of it, if we ever got the chance. She messed up and he went after her, so I figured—I had to do something. But after it was over… She wouldn’t even look at me.’
‘I’ve seen what you can do, you know.’ Shepard muffled his voice against Kaidan’s cheek, pressed close enough that his stubble tickled Kaidan’s skin. Kaidan twitched; his body had to react, and that reaction was just what Shepard needed to distract him. Shepard knew him, better than anybody. ‘Back in Inferno, sure, that was something—I knew you were the real deal even then. And I’ve seen your records—’
‘Hold on,’ Kaidan said. ‘You haven’t been hacking the system regularly, have you?’
Shepard chose not to answer the question and kept moving while he still could. ‘—and I know you’re top of your class, Kaidan Alenko. Kaidan Albert Alenko. And not just because of the biotics, either. Says you keep a cool head under pressure and everything—although I could’ve told them that. If I ever had some turian knocking me around…’
‘Good thing you never did,’ Kaidan said.
‘Maybe once or twice,’ Shepard admitted. ‘Just not as serious. Besides—I can handle myself. Especially when it comes to turians.’
Kaidan pursed his lips—against Shepard’s forehead, the scar on his scalp—and puffed a slow breath. It sounded like an airlock being opened that hadn’t been touched in a long, long time, finally letting some of the pressurized air out. He was still tense, but he hadn’t shrugged Shepard off yet.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Shepard said. His voice sounded like something old, too, and rusted, like stolen tech he had to scrape the scum off first before he could pawn it. ‘…Unless Finch gets my ass kicked out, of course.’
Kaidan’s hands traveled down Shepard’s arms, over muscles Shepard was starting to be real proud of, over his hips, to give the top of his ass a squeeze. ‘Not gonna happen.’
‘Why—are you gonna do something about it?’ Shepard asked.
‘Maybe,’ Kaidan replied.
‘Maybe, huh?’ Shepard lifted his head and Kaidan’s lips were right there waiting for him.
Once they got started, Shepard knew they could go all day—or at least until a bright-eyed bunch of recruits filed in for their training, totally unprepared for the show they were about to get. Keeping practical was the one thing Shepard really did best. It helped keep his feet on the ground and a guy like him needed that gravity so he didn’t go drifting off into deep space without anybody around to notice he was gone.
‘C’mon,’ Shepard said, trying to pull back. ‘Where’s the cool head when you need it, right?’
‘That’s always been my problem around you.’ Kaidan shifted, sliding off Shepard’s lap with a muffled thump against the training mat. It squeaked and Shepard reached for his fatigues, handing them over. ‘…Thanks.’
‘Hey, I take ‘em off, I’d better help put ‘em back on, right?’ Shepard hitched his hips back into his own pair, doing up the fly one-handed. ‘Even if I like the view better the other way around.’
Kaidan grunted, halfway to disapproving, but as usual Shepard was just too damn charming for him to make it all the way there.
He’d get used to it eventually. Shepard had tamed way more serious targets than Kaidan Alenko in his day, so it was only a matter of time before he reined Kaidan in like a krogan harnessing a thresher maw—although something told him that Kaidan wouldn’t go down easy. They were evenly matched, maybe even a good match. The idea made Shepard feel warm through and through, same as when the mess hall cook got creative with basic proteins.
Times like these, Shepard was extra-grateful there was no mind-reading funny business that came hand in hand with biotic abilities. He could take a lot at the end of the day, but knowing his thoughts weren’t his own might’ve been the final push.
‘You realize we’re screwed for tomorrow,’ Kaidan said. Something in his tone made Shepard settle, like it had nothing to do with Finch or the way they’d been so caught up in avoiding each other they’d almost torn a good thing to pieces.
Shepard knew better than to act like a varren. So it was about time he started proving it.
‘Love it when you talk dirty, Kaidan.’ Shepard stretched his arms above his head, relishing the crack between his shoulder blades as his back recalibrated. ‘Pretty sure tomorrow’s already today.’
Sooner or later, his body wasn’t gonna bounce back. He’d probably have to start treating it right before Anderson caught wind of him staying up all night on top of the wringer he put himself through in daily training.
It was weird, feeling like he had someone to impress other than himself. It’d take some time before Shepard could decide whether he could live with it or not.
Kaidan yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand before he could work out a retort. ‘You really never turn it off, do you?’
They were both tired, too worn down for Shepard to think much about the Finch problem or any concessions he’d made to let Kaidan help him out. If that had been his plan all along, Shepard was gonna have to give him credit. He never saw it coming.
And knowing somebody who could pull a surprise move or two at the final hour—that was an asset. Shepard liked assets, not just asses.
‘Something funny?’ Kaidan asked.
‘Probably better if I don’t tell you,’ Shepard said.
Kaidan gave him a sideways look, then let it roll off his back. That was part of the training, too, knowing when to fold and when something was worth a fight. Shepard was starting to get it, the balance that was more than just the weight of their bodies pressed together.
‘Just…don’t try and take this one on your own, all right?’ Kaidan stood, doing the final button on his fly while he was still on his knees before he got up on his feet. ‘There’s a reason we work in teams here, right?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Shepard replied, with just enough of a cocky grin that Kaidan had to look away to hide how much he liked it.
He didn’t shy away from the rest—reaching down to give Shepard a hand, helping him up. Shepard knew he could do it on his own, no problem, but he took the easier option for once, thumb running over the inside of Kaidan’s warm palm, the calluses on his fingertips making Kaidan shiver.
Kaidan’s arm tensed. He braced himself with his feet planted square on the mats and Shepard let him do it, with a little help along the way.
They stood eye to eye. ‘Used to be a time when you were taller,’ Shepard said, which made Kaidan shiver again. It was lighter than a touch but it lasted longer and Shepard felt something at the base of his spine try to answer. They didn’t have time for it—so they’d have to wait until later.
Despite what Anderson thought, Shepard totally had restraint. He had nerves of pure Kevlar for resisting the temptations he’d always steered clear of—and maybe he’d make a better pilot than he thought.
‘We’ll figure this out,’ Kaidan said.
‘Sounding all official,’ Shepard replied. ‘I like it. Next thing you know, you’ll be giving me orders and everything.’
Kaidan snorted. ‘Like you’ll listen.’
Shepard looped an arm around his waist, pulling him close for a hot second. They didn’t kiss but the promise that they could again later meant more than Shepard’s usual stolen credit chits in terms of collateral.
Then, Shepard let Kaidan go, running recon for him—scouting ahead to make sure the halls were still empty and they had the all clear. When he saw that they were, he threw the signal, and Kaidan did pretty well for himself, making no sound as they headed back to the dorms to splash cold water on their faces and change into new t-shirts before the day began.
There wasn’t time to clean off most of the sweat and Shepard didn’t have to worry about anything other than how tired he was. He’d done more on less sleep for years; it wasn’t a problem for him. But Kaidan needed his shut-eye, his beauty rest, and the thought of him hiding yawns behind the back of his hand or rubbing the corner of his eye with a gloved fist all day made Shepard realize he couldn’t keep doing this.
If it was gonna happen, it needed to happen right.
He was jittery before he got onto the practice field—but when he saw it was the Mars sandstorm scenario, all that rolled off him like strobe lights off an asari’s bare skin. He knew Mars. He knew this run. And he knew how to look after his teammates, not just go for the goal and get the job done.
He knew how to do that right, too.
So he did.
There were obstacles to clear but he got his guys past them first, doing the same kind of recon he had earlier that morning before while bringing up the rear. They waited on his signal and when the hostiles showed up, Shepard was the one who offered cover fire, Kessler blazing.
He was sweating by the time the projector lights faded and the main strip lights were switched back on. Time was called and it was good, damn good, and even the stiffs on his team—rich kids like Kaidan, but not like Kaidan at all—clapped him on the back. He did the same for them, pulling off his helmet and wiping the sweat out of his eyes.
Somewhere up there in observation, Anderson was watching. And he’d better be proud, Shepard thought. He’d better take notice.
It could be the last time the guy ever saw Shepard in action.
Thinking ahead still rubbed him raw sometimes, the same way the armor had when he’d first put it on. It took time to get comfortable with anything new, to build up the calluses that came with repetition. Shepard didn’t like thinking ahead, but spontaneity was for people who only had themselves to think about. A leader had to consider possible outcomes—if he was gonna get his team out safely. And he needed to get his team out safely.
Shepard had a team now, whether he’d asked for one or not. He wasn’t looking to blow his chances and let somebody else come in to scoop them up. That happened in the Reds and it’d happen in the Alliance, too—only difference was, the second one actually meant something for once.
He wanted to have more faith in things working out—in Anderson, if not the system he was a part of—but that wasn’t his style. He couldn’t even blame it on how much he’d seen on the streets, either, because guys like Kaidan were out there standing up for the right thing even when the Alliance had funded secret projects that scarred them for life and gave ‘em plenty of reasons to turn against it.
Some guys were just made out of better stuff. But Shepard knew how to follow an example when he saw it. Faking a thing until it came naturally was all it took to get by in the Reds and he’d be using the skills he’d learned there for a while, long after he left them behind for good.
If Anderson didn’t like that, well… He didn’t have to know everything. Just the stuff that he could count.
Shepard left his standard-issue in the racks, blowing off Tanaka of all people, who’d suddenly decided Shepard was the hottest thing since Hahne-Kedar Shadow Works. Better late than never—but Shepard wasn’t in the mood.
If he was still around after he sorted out the Finch dilemma, then maybe he’d see about rubbing Tanaka’s nose in it later, giving him the attention he was practically begging for.
‘Catch you at dinner,’ Ash said. She walloped Shepard one in the shoulder, but only after she’d taken off her armored glove.
It was as much of a vote of confidence as Shepard was gonna get. She might not ever know it, but it kicked him into gear and got him moving, out of the situation room and down the hall.
Kaidan fell into step with him, coming out of nowhere and flanking him like his implants came with a cloaking device.
‘Stealthy,’ Shepard said. ‘Real stealthy.’
‘It’s not that I don’t trust you,’ Kaidan replied.
‘Just that you don’t have any reason to.’ Shepard knew the way to Anderson’s office by heart and the schedule was part of that natural understanding he had for where people were and when they showed up, but especially when they left. Shepard knew it all. And the sound his boots made on the floor was clipped, rhythmic, an even beat, like he’d finally learned how to march. Kaidan matched him step for step, not missing a single one. Of course he didn’t; he was too good for that. ‘But that’s fine, Kaidan. I get it.’
‘Actually, I thought maybe we could head to dinner together,’ Kaidan said. ‘I heard they’ve got steak on the menu today. Actual steak.’
Shepard whistled. ‘I’m thinking somebody was messing with you,’ he said. ‘You know it’ll be the same old proteins with the same old gut-busting sauce and we’ll love every second of it. But, hey—I’ll see you there. …If I don’t get kicked out first.’
They came to a stop in front of Anderson’s door, his name on the plaque next to it. For a split second, Shepard wondered if he actually had the brass, the balls, to walk in there and lay it on the line, something he could do in the field—not just the training courses—but couldn’t wrangle in the day-to-day. There wasn’t supposed to be a distinction between the two; living and breathing the job was the best way to keep on living and breathing, period. Shepard knew that. Only there was more to it with Kaidan standing in front of him, glancing between Shepard’s face and the name on the plaque, putting two and two together because he was just that quick.
‘Yeah,’ Shepard said, before Kaidan had to ask. ‘That’s the plan, anyway. Not my best work, but it’s not like I’ve got all the parts I need to do the job right, so…’ He held up his hands. He still had his gloves on, so he took them off.
‘…Okay,’ Kaidan replied. ‘I’ll just…wait out here, then.’
‘And come in with a few smooth biotic moves if you hear things turning sour?’ Shepard asked.
Kaidan’s mouth twisted. It was the half-grin, half-frown that Shepard had seen their first night together, the one that was practically begging to be kissed. His lips were still full from the night before, enough of a good thing to give Shepard new strength.
It wasn’t all about the muscle he’d built, the laps he’d run, the sit-ups and push-ups and extra proteins to feed a growing body. There’d been more to grow than he realized and it felt good, knowing his shoulders were broad, his back straight.
‘Hey,’ Kaidan said. ‘Shepard… You’ve got this. You’re doing the right thing.’
‘Yeah, well… Don’t tell anybody. Wouldn’t want to lose my reputation.’ Shepard moved past him, just close enough that their knuckles brushed as he went by, and the feel of Kaidan’s skin brought him back to earth, to rap on the door and hope Anderson was actually inside.
‘Permission to enter,’ Anderson said from within.
Shepard rolled his eyes so Kaidan wouldn’t have to be nervous—so he’d know it didn’t matter either way—only Kaidan was just that quick, and he had to know it did. Shepard was jittery all over again. His nerves were jangling like he’d just been hotwired and needed to fly before somebody pinned the job on him—except he’d never flown straight at authorities. That was kind of the opposite of good instincts and he was so much better at figuring out how to give them the slip.
‘I’ve got this,’ Shepard said.
It wasn’t Kaidan’s voice and it didn’t sound as certain. It didn’t even sound like him.
But the door had rolled open and Kaidan couldn’t do this with him, couldn’t be implicated in it. Shepard stepped across the threshold and heard the door slide shut again, right at his back. At least it was something solid to depend on.
‘Sir,’ Shepard said, and saluted.
More than any other time he’d done it, the action came easy. It felt like it belonged.
‘At ease,’ Anderson said.
That was less easy. Shepard dropped his hand and cleared his throat and Anderson raised a brow, arms held behind his back.
‘So—this a usual thing, then?’ Shepard asked. ‘You get a lot of cadets looking to squeeze in some extra time with the bigshots, or maybe argue their training scores?’
‘Not as much as you’d think,’ Anderson said. He didn’t sound bored yet, but he wasn’t curious, either. With that face, he would’ve fit right in and cleaned up at poker night on Vancouver’s docking bay.
But that was a suggestion Shepard planned on keeping to himself until further notice.
‘Well, that’s not what this is about,’ Shepard said. ‘That’s the good news. Won’t catch me having problems just like the rest.’
‘Somehow, I’m not surprised,’ Anderson replied. ‘Live as long as me, Shepard, and you learn to outmaneuver the odd bombshell dropped into your lap. Or you get good at reading new recruits, in any case. Either way, it’s better for the heart than getting blindsided every damn day.’
He took a seat, but he didn’t extend the same offer to Shepard. That worked to Shepard’s advantage, since being front-and-center with the Finch secret had him wired. He didn’t pace but it felt good to stand, folding his arms behind his back like he’d seen Anderson do. It made his shoulders sit straighter, and that wasn’t a bad thing.
Plus, he was ready to make a sprint for it and outrun the old guy if he had to.
‘You’d better spill before I get even older,’ Anderson said.
He was waiting, but it was the thought of Kaidan outside that got Shepard talking again, not just Anderson’s level gaze.
‘When it comes to bad news,’ Anderson added, ‘I’ve always found it works to your advantage if you don’t give anyone the chance to anticipate just how bad it’s going to be.’
Shepard resisted the urge to rock forward on the balls of his feet. New boot soles were too stiff for that kind of thing anyway. ‘Like tearing off a bandage, right?’
‘Now why would you want to do something like that?’ Anderson asked.
Kaidan again—Shepard could see him, clear as the sunlight glinting off an ally’s polished weapon. He swallowed and braced himself for impact.
‘I ran with this gang back on Earth,’ he said, which seemed more accurate than saying he’d outright run them for a time. Shepard got it now—that running a gang was like hog-tying a thresher maw. You could control it for a while, but it was always seething below the surface, waiting to turn on you when you least expected it.
He kept that observation to himself, too. Anderson didn’t need to hear him getting philosophical on top of everything else and Shepard already felt vulnerable, like one of the test dummies on the shooting range: drilled full of holes, a big white target with accuracy zones pinned in place, taking every damn shot leveled its way.
‘Is there more to this story?’ Anderson, true to form, wasn’t showing his hand. Shepard studied his expression close and hard, but it didn’t give up any of its secrets. ‘Because I’ve heard more than my fair share exactly like it.’
‘Depends on your definition of more,’ Shepard said. After a pause, he added, ‘Sir. Seems like that sort of thing doesn’t want to stay put where you buried it. And I figured I just realized that if I let any of the gang—any of the guys know they can hold that past over me, I’ll be running too much and too hard to have time for being a soldier. …Sir.’
‘That was two sirs in the span of fifteen seconds, Shepard,’ Anderson replied. ‘Should I be worried?’
‘Not unless you’re the one who used to run with a bunch of small-time mercs who decided to turn mean after you left them.’ Shepard swallowed, remembering the list of Weisman’s offenses—the realization that shit like that was exactly what he’d enlisted to protect the galaxy from. ‘…So I’m coming clean. Fessing up. Never cracked and spilled my guts before in my life and I’m not naming any names, but before the information gets dropped in your lap like I was a part of the final job they want me to help them out of paying for… I’m telling you about it, sir. For the record. On the record. So there it is. Recorded.’
The dog-tags weighed heavy on Shepard’s chest, stuck beneath the fabric of his t-shirt between his skin and the cotton, damp with sweat from the range. He could feel that wet heat under his arms and at the small of his back, right between his ribs. He was ready to take the dog-tags off, give up the name Shepard, John and a birthday he’d paid his entire savings to fudge, even if that wasn’t saying much. He wasn’t so ready to leave Kaidan behind but if he stayed while Kaidan had to act so stubborn about everything, then he’d end up taking a real good soldier down with him.
Kaidan had a future.
He had a past, too, and that was something Shepard hadn’t been expecting.
He swallowed again, the back of his throat dry. Anderson was letting the silence linger in exactly the way he’d told Shepard not to, which was the story of Shepard’s life so far: people giving advice that said one thing, then doing the opposite.
And Shepard wasn’t gonna be like that. Not anymore.
He’d be in shit with the Reds after this, too. The whole renegade thing… He just had to hope Kaidan still went in for it after Shepard was on the lam.
‘Is that it?’ Anderson finally asked.
Shepard blinked, like he was clearing sandstorm grit out of his eyes.
‘Sir,’ he said. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘These unnamed individuals from your past are—what’s the term? Leaning on you? Putting the pinch on you?—and you refuse to let them see you crack.’ Anderson paused again; he had no damn tell and Shepard was too damn obvious about studying him for it. It was a rookie move, something Shepard never would’ve pulled on the streets, but Anderson was a class act, a different caliber.
It wasn’t the same and they both knew it. Shepard wasn’t in the habit of bowing to anyone or anything, but standing up straight for somebody—that was just as strange, just as new.
‘…Leaning on me, sir,’ Shepard said.
‘Hm.’ Anderson snorted and shook his head. Shepard thought he could see a glimpse of dry humor, but it was gone faster than he could say Blasto to the rescue, and he didn’t know if it’d really been there or if it was nothing but a product of wishful thinking. ‘I see.’
The beads of the ball-chain at the nape of Shepard’s neck were starting to feel heavy. He reached around back to slip his thumb under them, ready to lift it free.
‘Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Shepard?’ Anderson asked.
Shepard froze. ‘Removing my tags, sir,’ he said.
‘So the Alliance can lose a soldier who has enough brains and the brass to know when he needs backup?’ Anderson snorted again. ‘I’ve swallowed a lot in my time, Shepard, a whole lot. Don’t make me swallow this one, too.’
There was a joke in there somewhere that could go two ways, inappropriate or ripe for the whole family. Shepard kept his lips zipped, not wanting to blow the moment of goodwill he’d lucked into. Assuming the wrong thing could upset the balance—but he’d never been good at sitting still and keeping quiet for long.
‘So…’ Shepard began. It wasn’t his best line, but he’d re-write it when he was telling the whole story to Kaidan later. Something like I didn’t realize I had any say in what you swallowed, sir.
Maybe one day he’d know Anderson well enough to let it all hang out—but right now they were still in the honeymoon phase. When trying to impress a military man, Shepard knew better than to lead with his mouth.
Unless that man was Private Alenko. But he had a whole category to himself.
‘So.’ Anderson’s face was the same as ever, that deep-lined expression that Shepard had warned Kaidan about making one time too many. ‘Let me fill in a couple blanks for myself, and you can tell me if I get any of it wrong. How’s that sound to you?’
‘Sounds like a better deal than the one I came in here expecting,’ Shepard said. When in doubt—which was more often than he was willing to admit these days—it seemed better to cop to honesty.
‘Look here—you think you’re the first recruit to start Alliance training with a checkered past behind him?’ Anderson leaned back in his chair. His gaze traveled to the ceiling, lost in a memory—or maybe he was just tired of looking at Shepard’s face. It happened to some people, or so Shepard had heard. ‘We attract all kinds here, Shepard. At least a third are just looking for an excuse to carry a legal firearm. They come in experienced, and we whip them into shape or we don’t. That’s the job.’
Shepard blinked, not remembering the last time he had. It reminded him he hadn’t been frozen in place by a few ill-timed cryo rounds and he let his hands drop from the chain around his neck, figuring no one was about to march in and rip the tags off him anytime soon.
Anderson didn’t seem like the type to pull a last-minute double cross. Maybe it was a naïve assumption, but Shepard had gone a long way making a living off his instincts. A first impression was usually the right one.
‘That’s not what they say on the recruiting posters,’ Shepard said.
‘They say life and our freeze-dried proteins have one thing in common, Shepard,’ Anderson said. ‘What’s on the package never matches what you get inside. Are you really that surprised?’
Shepard almost chuckled. He turned it into a cough last-second, but Anderson was definitely pleased—because what guy didn’t like to know he’d scored with a well-timed joke?
Permission to laugh, sir, Shepard thought. It took all he had to keep quiet beyond clearing his throat.
‘Good,’ Anderson said. ‘Now you’re learning when silence is appropriate. Usually, when you think you know exactly what to say, that’s when you need to put a lid on it. You got that?’ Shepard nodded. ‘That’s what I thought. There’s plenty of people out there that can’t do what you do with a whole lot worse behind them already. And don’t look so damn offended, because that isn’t an insult or a blow to your cred, or whatever the hell stupid lingo it’s known by these days.’
Shepard clenched his jaw to keep from grinning. The pained expression Anderson thought he saw was probably nothing more than a grimace of concentration.
Doing things by the books took about as much care and attention as keeping your neck above water in the slums. There was always something to work for. Shepard had to hone his focus, but he knew how to get a job done, no problem.
No problem that he couldn’t handle later, anyway.
‘More silence. You are listening.’ Finally, Anderson stood, coming around the table. Shepard felt like he was a hot piece on display in a dealer’s back alley—like he had potential, and all he needed was some spit and shine to look like the real deal. If Anderson found he came up lacking, though, one of the parts out of place, some damage that wasn’t worth the fixing… ‘At first, I didn’t know if you had it in you. But you showed integrity today, Shepard.’
‘Feels a lot like being stupid, sir,’ Shepard said, missing the sound of his own voice too much to hold back anymore.
Anderson pursed his lips. ‘And you’ve got a long way to go yet,’ he said, ‘but I’ll be watching. Don’t disappoint me—and don’t think some tenth-rate street mercs can intimidate Alliance brass, Shepard. If you keep on the straight and narrow now that you’re here, we’ve put enough credits into training you to keep you here for life. It’s up to you how long that lasts. Are we clear?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Shepard replied.
He saluted a second time; that was what he was supposed to do, but more than that, it was what he wanted to.
‘Dismissed,’ Anderson said. Shepard didn’t fall at-ease and he was halfway to the door when Anderson added, ‘Oh, and Shepard?’
‘Sir?’ The word was starting to stick in his throat like tummy-tingling Tuchanka sauce. And, what was more—he was getting used to the feeling, like it was more about what he could learn to swallow and not what Anderson had to.
‘Nice work in training today,’ Anderson told him. ‘Now get the hell out of my office.’
‘Anything for you, Captain,’ Shepard said, the door opening up into the hallway. It was like one weight had been lifted off his shoulders while another slid in to take its place, but the difference was, it wasn’t something Shepard minded carrying.
‘So,’ Kaidan said—still waiting for him outside.
Shepard would’ve put his arm around Kaidan’s shoulders right there in front of everyone only that was the old him, the one he’d left behind in Anderson’s office to keep the captain company. The new him called superior officers sir and did nice work in training, enough to catch the captain’s eye.
Enough not just to catch Kaidan’s attention but to hold onto it longer than any other contraband that’d passed through Shepard’s hands before.
‘C’mon,’ Shepard said. ‘I thought you were hungry.’
‘Okay,’ Kaidan replied, glancing his way, and Shepard let it last for a second longer than regulation, because he was also—always—gonna be that guy.
END