Nowhere to Go But Forward - Aftermath

Kaidan felt every minute of combat latch onto the deepest parts of his limbs as he trudged back to the Normandy, the exhaustion pulling on him, beckoning him into a desperately needed reprieve. He felt every ounce of dirt and grime clinging to his skin, wisps of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. Bruises were just starting to poke at him where a creeper had caught him just right, or where Shepard's driving had gotten the best of his balance; he knew he would find a particularly nasty one right below his ribs, already able to imagine the deep mixture of purple and blue that Van Gogh would be jealous of. He felt his frayed nerves firing off, sparks of invisible dark energy fizzling around him. He felt the ghost pains of a migraine that he knew would materialize within hours.

What he felt was a typical wear-and-tear kind of day of an Alliance soldier.

But Feros had been spared. From the geth. From the Thorian. And from ExoGeni. They were given a chance to rebuild, to form something out of nothing—or close to it— from the barren wasteland planet that time had left it. The colonists, he had found, were tenacious and had a determination burning in them like none he had seen for a while. They would strengthen the colony. They would rebuild. He was certain.

He stopped his advance when he saw Shepard on the loading dock, helmet tucked under her arm, still dressed in her armor. It was covered in a dozen new nicks and dents that would have to be buffed out before their next ashore mission, though seeing the patches of eroded material where acid had begun to burn through meant that she was going to have to replace it soon. Her cropped hair that usually curved around her face in a delicate fashion—if you could call anything about the Commander "delicate"—stuck to her skin in a similar manner to his. A small cut on her cheek still oozed, a thin trail of blood mixing with the streaks of dirt on her face. The dying sun cast hues of oranges across the dock, highlighting the shades of red in her hair. She was an image of beautifully controlled chaos. Kaidan wished that he had something to capture the sight before him, because it was the picture of humanity at its best.

He wondered if he should interrupt her thoughts that she seemed to be so lost in, to possibly try to attempt to quietly inch by without disturbing her, but he found himself saying the words as logic told him not to. "Everything alright, Commander?"

"It would figure," she said, her back to him, "That of all the things to hit me first about the Protheans, it would be their love of architecture. Their appreciation for it. The sheer feeling of accomplishment when they create an empire such as the one that now lays in ruin before us." She used her free arm to draw an arc across the horizon, "And upon seeing this," she continued, indicating the crumbling buildings and smog-filled air, "It invokes such a feeling of…despair. Total sadness. I feel the full weight and magnitude of the unimaginable loss that we see. I understand it."

"Protheams didn't cry. Tears weren't something that their people were engineered to produce. Instead, they sang. They had hundreds of songs, each holding a significant meaning, and always accompanied by an equally significant feeling. The song that I have echoing between my ears right now—god, I can't even begin to describe it."

She looked so proud with her shoulders straight and chin held high, so when she finally turned to face him and he saw the single tear rolling down her cheek, it shocked him speechless. She wiped it away, leaving a dark smudge behind, and looked at the wet residue on her glove with a detached blue gaze, frowning.

"It's not even mine."

Before he could process any of what he was seeing, let alone decide how to react, she was shaking her head, letting out a very cynical chuckle.

"Damn that turian. I'm going personally hand him the bill to my psychiatrist once this is all done." She then turned her gaze on him, that impossible-to-resist blue gaze. He felt his heart jump a little.

"I think every time it's just you and me, Alenko, I'm off on some half-baked, lunatic rant."

That was the first time she hadn't used his rank. He didn't know why it mattered, but it did. It mattered a lot.

"I don't mind. It suits you."

Wait. Not what he wanted to say. Definitely not what he meant to say. Not even close.

She raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "Half-baked lunatic rants suit me?"

Too late. "No! I didn't mean to-because you're not-I mean-" Kaidan couldn't remember the last time he had stumbled over his words this much. Just shut up Alenko. Before you make a bigger fool of yourself. "Ma'am."

Shepard crossed her arms and tilted her slightly to one side. "Then what do you think does suit me?"

She was fixing that stare on him again. And he just. Couldn't. Think. He felt like she could see straight through him, and be it from stubbornness on his part or some other force keeping him there, he couldn't tear his eyes away from hers. And so he stood there, rather dumbly, he might add, unable to come up with anything to say. He doubted that he would have been able to form the words into a coherent sentence even if he had.

Shepard laughed quietly to herself, probably at his own expense, and patted him on the shoulder as she walked past into the airlock.

"You're not too bad, Alenko."

Just before the VI began the decontamination program, she looked over her shoulder, Kaidan seeing a familiar glimmer reflect in her eyes.

--

How long had it been since he first stepped on the Normandy? A week? Maybe two? It didn't feel like it had been that short of time. Not with all that had happened. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't sent his folks a message in some time. His last one had been a couple weeks before he had received his assignment to the Normandy. Most of what had happened was classified information, but he could at least—

"God damn fucking son of a bitch!"

There was only one person on the ship with that much of a colorful vocabulary. He poked his head around the corner, seeing Shepard with a dismantled M8 rifle lying on the table in front of her clutching her hand, muttering under her breath. A thin line of blood dripped from her gripped fist.

"Damn barrel slid back and took a chunk out of my hand." She explained without taking her glare from the weapon. She looked up at him, "Never fails to do so when I clean the silly thing."

"You know, I'm sure the Chief would love to do maintenance on that."

She grinned. "I'm sure she would, and no offence to her, but no one touches my gun. Rule Number Three."

"Rule Number Three?" he asked, leaning up against the table.

Shepard nodded, removing her hand to examine her palm. "Dad's 'Rule Number Three.' My father has a lot of them. And before you ask, I can't tell you what they are. Classified information. Strictly a need-to-know basis." She said in her best impression of the higher-ups, her voice dropping a few octaves to accommodate the persona. She was actually quite good at it.

He nodded at her hand. "You going to get that bandaged up?"

He wished that she would go see Chakwas. Not just for her most recent injury, but because he knew she wasn't sleeping. Not much, at least. While her complexion didn't seem as pale as it had been when she had him stumbling over his words earlier, it wasn't much better now. She had just begun to look like she was getting a decent amount of sleep before today. But after another round of Prothean visions, she had been sent all the way back to square one. Possibly further, seeing how this was the essence of an entire civilization.

He knew her well enough to know that she was going to try and make sense of all of it, using what little downtime she had after checking in with all the stations and doing a last patrol of the decks to do research. He had access to the ship's extranet logs—an advantage to knowing the inside and out of the Normandy's tech systems— and based on the time stamps, she spent most of her personal time looking up what little information there were on the Protheans and Reapers, almost to an obsessive amount.

He really wished that—

"It'll stop bleeding eventually." She said with a shrug, interrupting and oblivious to his worried thoughts, picking up a rag and going back to cleaning the gun, polishing away dirt. They sat in silence for a minute or two, though Kaidan didn't mind. He watched her run maintenance, smiling inwardly when she would frown slightly when a spec would hang on stubbornly and then went on to assault it with furious little swipes until it gave up. He was so lost in how relaxed she seemed that he missed her question.

"So what's your reason?" she repeated, "Why'd you enlist?"

It was his turn to shrug. "I'm a biotic. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Mercenary work is always a possibility. Go and be a big bad crime boss." She said it with such a straight face that he had he not known her, he would have completely believed that she was serious. "Of course, then you'd probably get me breaking down your door eventually." She added with a mischievous chuckle.  "But that's it? Just because you're a biotic?"

"Well no. I wanted to see what was out here, y'know? I spent a good portion of my childhood on Earth, and after…well, after some things, decided that I wanted to make a difference. Get out and see what all of this was really about. So I joined the Alliance." He ran a hand through his hair, "Though we finally get out here and the final frontier is already settled. And no one seems to be impressed by the view. Or the dangers."

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She had figured something out. Perhaps something that he may not have wanted to give away. "Well I'll be damned. You're a romantic!"

Kaidan felt warmth spread across his face, which she must have noticed, because the small smirk blossomed into a full, genuine smile, and she was laughing. Desperately trying not to, he noticed. She covered her mouth in an attempt to hide her amusement, but it didn't stop it from reaching her eyes, which seemed to sparkle. Her shoulders were still quivering as she took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh. It's just that I never figured you the type." She apologized, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but unable to kill the smile that had stuck itself to her face. Kaidan didn't entirely mind. "I mean, I was beginning to wonder if you even knew how to smile, and now I find out that you 'signed on for the dream' and want to 'secure man's future in space.'" She joked, something that almost resembled a giggle escaping her lips. She was making fun him, all be it light-heartedly so.

Kaidan crossed his arms. "It seems like you can't stop smiling."

Wow. He was surprised how smooth that sounded.

"Well, I'm around you. How can I—" She stopped mid-sentence, and the look on her face was priceless. Her smile had faded, replaced by a mixture of shock and puzzlement. He swore she looked like he felt half the time when dealing with her. That 'I should have thought that one out a bit more' look.

And hell, was she blushing?! She was. There was no denying the flush of red that covered her cheeks and spread to her ears. Shepard bit her lip, meeting what he hoped was a level gaze before quickly looking away and running a hand through her hair.

Damn it, she looked adorable. To think, the great Commander Shepard had been flustered to the point of adorableness by one miraculously, spoken line.

She cleared her throat. "Yes, well I…"

And she had nothing to say. No witty comeback. No snarky remark. Nothing. She had been stunned into silence. He raised an eyebrow at her, feeling far more confident than he ever had, and grinned. And he took pleasure in a twisted sort of way in how pissed off it made her.

"Oh sure. Now you fucking smile." She huffed, clearly upset with how fast this had all been turned around on her. Joker's voice interrupted them, probably seeming like a god-sent to Shepard at the moment.

"Hey Commander, I have a message from Admiral Hackett of the Fifth Fleet. I'm patching it through to the comm room."

"Thanks Joker. I'll be right there." Kaidan wasn't surprised in how professional she sounded, though it did clash horribly with her reddened face. She fixed a look on him as she stood.

"I expect to have a report on the Normandy's systems on my desk in 0100 hours. Understood Lieutenant?"

He snapped a salute, and couldn't help but grin at her transition back into the superior officer. "Aye aye, ma'am."