Chapter Text
“She’s going to be impossible, Commander.” Miranda folded her arms, scowling after the departing convict.
“That’s the theme of this whole mission, Miranda. Besides, she was the Illusive Man’s call; your boss, remember?” Shepard rolled her shoulders, experimenting with the location and intensity of each dull pain lodged in her muscles. Shooting their way out of an exploding prison ship didn’t even make it onto her ‘Crazy Shit That Almost Got Me Killed’ list anymore, not with everything else they’d already been through. There was only one brief second in the entire day when the Commander had felt her heart stutter and race, danger prickling in cold sweat along her skin: when they caught up to Jack. The criminal had turned on them with superhuman reflexes and a glint of absolute, unapologetic murder in her eyes. Shepard had never seen anything like it.
“In this case, he may have miscalculated.” Miranda didn’t hesitate in her blunt criticism, distaste turning her melodic accent bitter. It was the first time Shepard had heard her take issue with her employer. She found it reassuring to know that the Cerberus Operative valued something above loyalty, even if it was her own arrogance.
“Just give her time to settle in. Jack’s going to be useful; she’s already shown us what she’s capable of doing.” Shepard strolled towards the conference room exit, memory flashing with bursts of explosion and the smell of charred blood still lingering in her nose.
“That’s why I’m worried.” Miranda shook her head but followed the Commander out.
Shepard took reports from Yeoman Chambers and headed to the elevator. She could review findings for an hour or two before bed and the messages all looked like they could wait until morning. Except this urgent communique from Anderson. Oh, and the encrypted cargo manifest Aria had promised her. Was this headline a story by Al-Jilani? Great, there went any thoughts of relaxing. The Commander ripped off her Cerberus jacket as she stepped into her cabin, opening the Westerlund audio article. She smirked at the tiny clips and static noises that betrayed a desperate editing job. Khalisah was pissed she couldn’t make humanity’s Spectre out to be a villain. The best she could do was try not to sound too stupid in her own interview.
“Should’ve gone with the zombie angle, Khali,” Shepard chuckled. She pulled the bottle of whiskey out of her desk’s lower drawer; a testimony to Cerberus’ painstaking attention to detail. It had originally belonged to Anderson but, like the ship and command, Shepard found herself instinctively picking up where he’d left off. Settling onto her bed, she thumbed through the remaining messages, deliberately speeding to skip past anything from Cerberus. She almost darted right past a familiar name but her eye caught it just in time and she scrolled back.
Liara.
Shepard smiled, opening the communique from the Prothean expert turned information broker.
‘Shepard, I’m sorry I didn’t have time to welcome you properly on Illium; to celebrate your return.’
It was odd that even in typed words she could hear the conflicted sound of her friend’s speech. Doctor T’Soni always worked so hard at sounding poised and knowledgeable but there was an unavoidable current of hesitation beneath the confidence, doubt and uncertainty creeping into her eyes despite the cool of her voice. The asari scientist had changed so much in their short time together, each horrific revelation and brush with death drawing out the nascent strength of her nature. Yet Shepard, with a fond smile, could still see and hear the nervous doctor blushing and fumbling over her words when a simple joke shattered her calm.
‘It was such a surprise, seeing you alive. A good surprise, of course, but shocking nonetheless. I think that I had convinced myself not to hope too much. Losing you once hurt -,’
Shepard knew she was probably imagining it but she could almost see where that sentence had tried to finish a dozen different ways. Accusatory, tragic, sincere, grateful; how many emotions did Liara go through in that single line?
‘ – all of us tremendously. That you died saving your crew surprises no one but please, be patient with us. Two years of grieving is a difficult habit to break. You have done the impossible once again, Shepard. I’m glad.’
The Commander held a sip of whiskey in her mouth, wondering if it could burn away the frustrated rise of emotions on her tongue. Of course Liara would go the noble route, considering the feelings of everyone involved and not just her own. She had that selfless streak, different from any soldier’s but just as brave. She’d never gotten upset with Shepard, not once; not even when she deserved it. Fuck, I should’ve known better. She didn’t even know what a goddamn joke was! The former Spectre thumped her head against the wall behind her bed, wishing for the millionth time she’d paid attention to something other than her own message of doom just long enough to notice what was going on with the sweet asari.
Nooooooo.
Kaidan had to point it out to her. In practically the same breath that he declared his own puppy-love infatuation. For a split second Shepard was genuinely clueless (or stubbornly delusional) and hoped Kaidan meant he wanted to start a relationship with Liara. She’d have given her blessing to that in a heartbeat. Alenko was sensitive and gentle, just the sort of man she’d trust to take care of a woman/alien as innocent as their Prothean expert. It would’ve been so convenient! The universe, however, was much too fond of shoving its steel-toed boot up Shepard’s unsuspecting backside. Enter not one, two or even three but four horribly awkward conversations. Not into you, not into her, not into him, not into you either; she’d gone through three months of head-shrinking after Elysium and still didn’t talk as much about her feelings as she had to on Normandy.
Liara had been perfectly understanding, as she was about pretty much everything, and it only made Shepard feel like even more of a piece of pyjak spit. The beautiful scientist had been so kind and accepting, blaming herself for the misunderstanding and refusing to give voice to the disappointment that was so clearly eating behind her eyes. It was almost enough to make the Commander change her mind. Why couldn’t she fall in love with someone like that?
Because I’d destroy her. Shepard sighed, raising her glass only to find it empty. She reluctantly got up for a refill, wishing the whiskey would turn into ryncol. Horosk would have been better but there was a fine line between relaxed and unfit for duty. Turian liquor usually leapt across that line and started a war on the other side. She poured another finger of amber relief into her glass, promising herself she’d go to sleep once it was gone.
Difficult as it had been to reject Liara there had never been a moment’s doubt in Shepard’s mind. The asari was simply too kind and innocent, like Tali. They were both so sweet and wanted desperately to help, to be the relief Shepard needed. But she knew that they’d be gentle and patient when sometimes all a soldier actually needs is to be yelled at and thrown across the room. Wrex was good for that. Too bad he was an ugly son of a bitch.
Garrus was a nice middle ground: a tough fighter who knew the type of mind it took to survive in battle and not hard on the eyes. Damned if he didn’t need someone to protect though. He had that noble streak, a hero complex that rivaled her own. If they hadn’t both been so focused on Saren and the Reapers they probably would’ve gotten themselves killed rescuing kittens from burning trees.
Kaidan and Ashley were both solid, trained Alliance soldiers; attractive, fit and deadly. That meant they could probably hold their own in bed as well as battle. Shepard just couldn’t shake the feeling they’d still be saying “yes ma’am,” even after they were naked. Some people –officers, most likely- might get off on that but the last thing she wanted was a reminder of her responsibilities. No, better that she stay Commander with everyone on duty so that she could at least be herself when she as alone.
Thinking of her former crew left Shepard with the paradox of satisfaction in her decisions but the emptiness of nostalgia. She missed them. There was a constant sense of everything being almost familiar as she felt her way along this new command.
Joker was still in the cockpit, albeit accompanied by a sensually-voiced AI that argued with him constantly. The infirmary was as homey as ever with Dr. Chakwas in charge, threatening Shepard with permanent psychological scarring if she didn’t hold still for a three minute exam. Garrus had reunited with the main battery like an estranged lover, fussing and flattering his way around the guns until he’d found and finessed every trigger. Jacob reminded the Commander of Kaidan, a welcome infusion of duty and service to the greater good balancing Cerberus’ often racist agenda. Miranda was nothing like Ashley but the flash of long dark hair that occasionally caught the corner of her eye always felt like it belonged on-board. It wasn’t home, but it was close.
The Illusive Man had a long list of allies for Shepard to gather and if the others were half as dangerous as Zaeed, Garrus and Jack then the Collectors were the least of humanity’s worries. A rogue ship of soldiers and psychopaths promised to be far more dangerous. Fun too.
Shepard felt a smile tugging one corner of her mouth as her thoughts revisited the adventures of the day. Closing her eyes she could perfectly recall the writhing, electrical current that engulfed their new friend; the raw power ripping mech and man to pieces. Biotics came in all shapes and flavors, their fields as varied as their personalities. The soldier had never seen that much naked, unapologetic violence; a sheer will to survive channeled into physical force. Jack was . . .
Shepard opened her eyes, glancing bemusedly at her glass and realizing she didn’t actually want the drink.
Jack might be exactly what she needed.