After the War Chapter Six

The recycled air was stale and over-warm as she tried to catch her breath, sweat running down her face and making her eyes sting slightly. She closed her eyes, listening to the frantic beating of her pulse as it started to slow, her body slowly uncurling and going still on the thin exercise mat she'd laid out on the floor of the apartment. All was still and silent.

She hadn't bothered refurnishing it, after Kaidan, though she often thought she should have. It reminded her of him sometimes, a terrible ache that drove her back to the comfortable uniformity of her cot on the ship. But she had no eye for the subtleties of comfort and design, and had grown so used to it the way it was that there didn't seem to be much of a point. It wasn't like she was there that often anyway. It was just another stage, another piece of illusion that had allowed her to entertain the fantasy that she was more than a simple soldier.

Now though, there was no where to escape to. The Normandy had been shut down, taken from the docks to storage until the Commander Shepard Exhibit at the Galactic Museum was finished construction. She shuddered as that disturbing name flitted through her mind. The Commander Shepard Exhibit. She rolled onto her side, pushing herself up with exaggerated care. Yesterday her leg had given up when she was halfway off the floor and she'd hit her head on the coffee table. She eyed the piece of furniture with undisguised distrust as she settled on the couch, pulling her brown blanket over her legs.

As she ran her fingers over the familiar weave of rough fibres she called up an extranet screen, that projected from the centre of the hated table and hovered before her in the air. A friendly VI popped up in the corner, a new program. It greeted her with the mix of immaculate cheer and crisp efficiency that characterized virtual intelligence.

"I want to buy some furniture." She told it.

"Over sixty five billion results for your search. Please narrow your parameters." The VI intoned cheerfully. She sighed.

"Coffee tables?"

It took a further half hour before she had narrowed her search enough to see any actual options, and she automatically hated every one of them. Sighing, she closed the search and stared moodily down at the little VI who smiled emptily back. She wished that they didn't do that, make them smile and fidget like they were real. She had enough instances of the lines between virtual and artificial intelligences blurring. She didn't need to wonder if her extranet browser was having an off day.

"I want to see the specs on Mindoir." She said suddenly. She wondered what it was about the planet that kept drawing her mind lately. She traced the simple border that had been woven around the edge of her blanket. The thick, hand-stitched cloth grated comfortably across her palm. The screen flickered and the information gathered by the most recent Council reports flashed up before her. Streams of data, that she deciphered with the effortless skill of someone who has spent a lifetime reading such charts. An idea was brewing, just an idea, that brought her away from thoughts of coffee tables, her bunk on the Normandy and the general mess that had become life in the past half a year. She scanned the reports on developing life in the area. Apparently the horses had gone feral, roaming wild in huge herds with no natural predators present. She smiled at the thought sinking deeper into her blanket and the comfortable couch. She was just thinking of ordering Turian food when there came a knock on the door. She hissed in dismay and curled up tighter on the couch, closing her eyes tightly.

'Nononononononogoawaygoddamnitgoaway." She thought feverishly, hoping that she could force the invader away with sheer force of will. Another knock, this one more assertive then the first, echoing through the heights of the vaulted ceiling. She groaned and pulled herself up, hooking her crutches under each arm and made her way toward the door, swearing quietly under her breath.

"Reporter, wll-wisher or assassination attempt?" She asked, leaning against the door without opening it. She would stay in here fighting with the browser VI for her entire life if it meant never having to talk to another reporter. The fans were better, if only just. Only the assassination attempts were any fun.

"Assassination attempt." Kaidan replied, from the other side of the door. Damn him, he still knew her to well. She sighed, opened the door. He managed to smile at her. "I knew that would be the one that got you to open the door."

"Har har, a mind-reading door-to-door comedian." She drawled, making room for him to enter the apartment. There was no point in trying to keep him out. He came in, closing the door behind him. "Exactly what I needed."

She hadn't spoken to Kaidan since the incident in her cabin, unless she counted her addressal to the crew concerning her retirement. She wasn't surprised to see him here. In fact, she was more surprised that he hadn't come sooner, though she supposed it was pretty easy to guess why.

"I resigned my commission today." She had been hobbling to the kitchen to get herself a drink before the inevitable discomfort started when he spoke from the door to the living area. His back was to her so she couldn't see his face. He seemed to be studying the display on Mindoir that was hovering in front of the couch, a meteorological summary floating front and centre at the moment. She cocked her head to the side.

"Why would you do that?" She asked, her voice neutral. She didn't want to get pulled up in another one of Kaidan's emotional traps. Just being in the same room with him made her insane, the pain and betrayal she felt mixing uncomfortably with the longing she had for him. He glanced over his shoulder at her, advanced further into the living area, out of sight. She followed him, frowning. "Hey!"

"I heard you." He replied. He was staring out the window now, at the glittering crest of the krogan monument. How many times had he stood right there, staring out across the artificial lake. She shivered as memories returned of his bare skin, the supple muscles she could still see standing out under his clothes. He was dressed civilian, obviously since he wasn't really military anymore. Black t-shirt and simple pants, no gun on his hip, no familiar shapeless armour. A real person, suddenly, stepping into the skin of a military mannequin. Just like her. "I just had to think a moment. It all happened so suddenly. I don't think I really knew the answer."

He looked back at her, his dark eyes troubled as they always were now. She wondered if it was just with her, if he was ever happy. She seemed to remember a time when they had both been so.

"Shepard, can you ever forgive me?" He asked suddenly, taking a step forward so he stood directly in front of her. She stared up at him, her shoulders squared, her chin held high. Even held up with crutches, in civilian clothes and forcibly retired she struck an imposing figure, full of the vigorous fire of life that had kept her going so many years, fuelled so many acts of human greatness. She bit her lip. She sighed. Her shoulders slumped a little, her posture relaxed. She sighed again. Such a normal gesture.

"Oh Kaidan. I don't know." She shook her head slowly. "I was always taught that forgiveness was holy, that it was our Christian duty to forgive those that hurt us because that was the only way that either of us could grow as people. But that was a long time ago, and a lot has happened since then. I don't know if I have the faith it takes to forgive anymore. Even though I know you're sorry. Even though I love you."

Christian duty, forgiveness, faith. Those were so old to her, remnants of Mindoir and her parents with their obscene rosaries and empty prayers. She hadn't thought of God, or any of his various trappings, for years. Hadn't thought of anything as soft as forgiveness. Being a hero had made her cold, she realized for the first time. Her attempts to save the galaxy had done nothing for her, except make her less and less a part of it.

His hands at his sides trembled for a moment, wanting to touch her. She could feel his gaze rake over her and felt colour rise in her cheeks. No one looked at her like that anymore. When she had been twenty-four, with a full body and a future ripe with potential men had looked at her like that, with passion and longing in their eyes. But not anymore. Who wanted a cripple in this day and age, when only the most horribly misused creatures had so much as a scar? She had often wondered. But Kaidan did. She could feel his desire for her, and the only thing that worried her more was the attraction she felt for him in return. He was forty now, hard-lived, getting wrinkles and creases around his eyes that were more noticeable. His muscles were losing the lush definition of youth, becoming the hard sinew of aged strength. He was no longer the man he'd been. But she could feel her want for him. She shifted, trying to get away from his look.

"Stop it." She said finally.

"I can't help it." He replied, honestly. "I never could."

"This isn't the time for it." She insisted firmly. He nodded after a moment, rubbing at his eyes. He was getting a migraine. She could tell, and felt the familiar twinge of concern and sympathy. Sometimes they were just headaches, that made him snappy and irritable for a few hours before the painkillers kicked in. Other times, the slightest sound was enough to bring tears to his eyes. She motioned to the couch, but he shook his head.

"It's nothing." He lied, knowing she wouldn't buy it. "I didn't come here to check you out, or pass out on your couch until the meds kick in. I came to talk."

"What could we possibly have to talk about at this point?" She asked despairingly. "Can't we just agree to forget about it? Send Christmas cards once a year and be like every other young love that didn't work out?"

"Is that what you want?" He asked. He tried not to sound hurt, and failed. She shook her head.

"No. But wouldn't that be easier?"

"It hasn't been so far."

"Shut up. Sorry. I know. But I'm so tired Kaidan. I want something to be easy for once. I'm sick of fighting for every second of happiness." She leaned back against the wall, readjusting the sit of her crutches and feeling the cool surface pressing comfortingly against her tense muscles. She studied him with keen grey eyes, her head tilted slightly to one side. "Why did you leave?"

It was the real question, wasn't it? The one thing that really stood between them, stopped them from ever moving forward. It was the one thing that needed to be answered, needed to have some sort of resolution. He shook his head, looked at the floor as though he felt to guilty to meet her eyes. But she had a right to know, and did nothing to relieve him of his tension. She deserved to know, after all these years of wondering. Finally he opened his mouth and gave her the only answer he could.

"Because I wasn't happy."

Her frown deepened, became a grimace of pain and she turned away. It felt so pathetic, hobbling away from him but the anger was back from its slumber behind the serenity of her retirement. If she wasn't careful she'd wind up punching his head off, crutches or not. He didn't follow her and she stopped a few steps away from him, breathing uncomfortably fast.

"Well that's straight forward enough. If you weren't happy on the Normandy, why did you come back?" She asked, her voice hard with anger.

"Because I love you. I wasn't happy on the Normandy, stealing moments between missions and passing the time between shoreleaves in a haze of flirting and subtle double-entendre. I wanted you, all of you. I thought it would be easier, having nothing instead of half. But I was wrong. I missed you more every day for eight years. By the time I got back to you it was like you were the only thing that mattered. I would have tried to kill the Reapers myself, if it just meant seeing you again." He laughed shortly. "Luckily for me, you had that covered."

She managed to smile. "I told you, pistols are for wimps. Shotguns are the way to go." There was a pause, unknowable things happening behind her eyes. She had every right to still be mad. To be furious. He had left, he had said he didn't want her with his surprise transfer and years of non-communication as blatantly as if he'd shouted it from the Command deck. If she wanted to, she could send him away now and be without guilt or blame for how they ended. But she surprised herself, when she thought of this, because she didn't want to. More than anything, she wanted him to stay.

"I'm sorry." She said finally. His eyes snapped to her, wide with surprise. She chuckled lightly. "I was so angry though. I never stopped and thought that anyone could have been as unhappy as I was at that point. Or that they might be smart enough to do anything."

He blinked. "You're not angry anymore?"

"No, I'm still angry." She replied. "Believe me. But I understand. I forgive you. If I could have run away at that point, I probably would have to." She shook her head as he opened his mouth, trying to get some other piece of an apology out, another confession to muddy the waters that had just been cleared. She was past apologies, past dwelling. The anger would fade, become nothing but past memories in a life that was suddenly full of potential for the future. Her fingers pressed lightly over his lips, sealing them.

"I know what you're going to say." She said. "You want to know what we are, what we're going to become. You want to put everything straight and right between us, to get everything in order the way you love to have it. But no, Kaidan. No. There's no way to know what we are, what's going to happen, what we might become. I'm so sick of talking around an endless stream of 'I don't know'. I don't care what we are, what we might become, what the name for us is. Let's just be us." She took her hand away from his mouth, hesitantly. He smiled, caught her wrist gently, his rough fingers running over the back of her hand.

"I thought I was supposed to be the mind reader." He said, running his hand back down to her elbow. She shook her head.

"I just let you think you were." She replied. He made a disbelieving sound akin to a snort and shook his head. Goose bumps rose wherever he touched her skin. A shiver ran down her spine and she could feel a deep heat burning inside her, a fire untended for to long. She grabbed his hand, pulled it between them.

"Please. I can see right through you." He said quietly. They seemed to be very close all of a sudden, though Shepard certainly couldn't remember moving any closer to him. She didn't move away though. She realized her crutches weren't holding her up anymore, that she'd left them against the wall where she'd been leaning. That didn't seem important at the moment.

"What am I thinking right now then?" She asked, challenging him with every syllable. He considered her for a moment, a look of intense thought on his face before he grinned crookedly.

"I can't repeat such things here. It's impolite." He teased. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"What about in there?" She pointed to the bedroom and he smiled, his arm finding its way around her waist, the warm muscle sliding around her like a favourite coat, familiar, warm and soothing. She leaned into him, inhaled deep breaths of his scent. His lips brushed her forehead, the bridge of her nose, her cheek. He hovered by her ear, his breath warm and damp.

"It'll have to do." He whispered, and a moment later she was in his arms as he carried her toward the bedroom. They didn't stop to get her crutches, or let her limber up her healing joints or take the pills she was supposed to before rigorous exercise. They had the rest of their lives for things like that. In those few hours between the end of the old and the beginning of the new there was nothing in the entire galaxy that mattered but the two of them becoming one again.