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The beat thumps inside his head even before he pushes past the doors. Deep and low vibrations he forces to fill him completely, to drown out the mixture of sorrow and rage within as the krogan bouncer steps aside to let him in. The Dark Star is about at half capacity, blurry shapes of humans and aliens blending with the haziness and soft, glowing lights, flowing like water on the dance floor, slithering across and lounging around bringing endless drinks to their faces almost without a care. People who have no idea what’s happening in the galaxy around them, or what’s going to happen, ignorant and slogging in their own shameless vices they have the luxury to indulge in. Kaidan sits at the bar, wordlessly signalling the female turian bartender who by now has come to recognise the sad, haggard looking human slouching on the stool regularly, darkened circles under his dull eyes and fatigues getting too big on a corroding frame, even if she had complained good-naturedly once they all appeared the same; the same mushy and delicate beings to her alien eyes, moping distractedly about something or the other while rambling to her as if she has all the answers to their problems. Kaidan stares at the glass in his hand, half-empty, that thought automatically so strange bouncing around in his head because he has always been a glass half-full kind of guy, the shining optimism sucked out of him to be replaced by this hole incapable of emoting for the better or worse.
It has been four months since... since. Fullstop. When everything changed, the joy evaporating in searing beams and fires torching the very thing bringing them together, the riding high on waves from their success vanishing in a mere matter of minutes, crashing into ice and freezing his heart as the emptiness started to take the very unique shape of a person. Like ashes in his mouth and water in his lungs, the same waves dragging him beneath to drown him while he stands completely still to get pulled under, unseeing. Four months, and yet, today, Kaidan walks by another recruitment ad with her face, standing tall and so proud in that distinctive armour, garish words slapped across singing praise and glory to invite more into the wonders of space, to serve and protect. But Kaidan knows better; the Commander’s image made up of lies and cover ups to drum up the Alliance’s ranks and morale, to bolster confidence instead of working on the real threat, hushed down so nobody knows about the horrors they’ve seen, kept backlogged and stamped with a Confidential - unimportant. Commander Shepard is lost, and their mouths and hearts lost and sewed shut with secrecy along with her.
The three of them are brimming with excitement and adrenaline they struggle to keep under wraps, because Kaidan knows this is the point of no return if they’re going to seriously do this. The plan has been set with Anderson, and now they’re just waiting for the crew to slowly return to the Normandy in shifts, messages passed along quietly to do it without fanfare or suspicion, as casual as possible before they steal their own ship from the docking bay. Chora’s Den is as sordid as ever, where they bide their time, washing away fears and steadying nerves with the cheapest alcohol, which also means the most disgusting alcohol. Kaidan glances at Shepard and Ashley, their features perfect in the red lighting, schooled to near blankness and giving away nothing of their cracked relationship, beginning to put themselves back together. They appear content, noses in their dirty glasses and elbows resting on the stained table top, waiting out the last half hour before the crew of the Normandy disappears from the Citadel, which will be their cue to follow suit last.
The alcohol always helps, because it enables him to forget, mind going comfortably sloshy as he takes in the surroundings, going back to being a blank slate, which Kaidan infinitely prefers to actually feeling. He doesn’t want to think about it, or be reminded about it. Doesn’t want stupid advertisements with her smiling face blinking back at the crowd of her worshippers clapping enthusiastically at the narrator exclaiming her incredible valour and achievements, the light from the bright panels falling in colours over the adoring human fans who lap at her feet, awe written across their expressions. Fans who are drawn to her posters with huge, block letters every time they flicker on in changing intervals at the poverty filled wards, their eyes so filled with hope and devotion to puff out their chest for the Alliance. Homeless duct rats in tattered clothes whispering Shepard’s name in reverence like she’s going to swoop down from the heavens in golden wings to save them from the forlorn streets, their faith in her unflappably dedicated. Kaidan doesn’t want to see any of these, squeezing his eyes shut against the memories as the glass shakes in his hands, heart aching so much in his chest he’s surprised his breathing is only slightly off. He has gotten really good at selective deafness, able to ignore it most of the time, when he hears phrases by poor kids stuck in gangs sporting black eyes loudly proclaiming how they’re going to grow up and be just like Commander Shepard, or older teens clutching an Alliance brochure with her face on the front, all serious, sitting in a dirty corner to read about enlistment almost like it holds all the dreams of escape they’re looking for, hand over their heart because they’re also going to join up just like Commander Shepard.
Commander Shepard. What a goddamn hero. Kaidan wants to tell them she’s dead.
‘’You Commander Shepard?’’
‘’Nope, I just look like her. It’s okay, I get that a lot.’’
The grizzled man stares down at her, hair unkempt, his eyes narrowing at Shepard’s reply, who doesn’t even bother raising her head to glance at him, chin angled downwards into her own glass, completely at ease. Kaidan tenses and he sees Ash freeze when the man takes in the two soldiers flanking their CO, and he growls again, slamming his hand on the counter beside hard enough the Lieutenant feels it rattle, unshaven face at her ear and gritting his teeth to hiss out, ‘’You’re Commander Shepard.’’ Three more men surround the trio and Kaidan immediately knows this isn’t going to end well for anyone involved when Ash flexes her fist, gaze shifting, grim and obviously waiting for the next step. The Staff Lieutenant internally groans when the leader continues, ‘’You killed Fist, didn’t ya. You killed my supplier.’’
‘’Find another,’’ is all Shepard says, calmly draining the last of her liquor, neither attempting to deny the truth nor asking what the hell the man is even talking about, weapons or drugs or prototype mods, whatever; she simply isn’t interested in the mess she caused in the carefully organised underground structure and their shipments of buying and selling. There’re ten minutes left before they have to return to the Normandy, and Kaidan is not at all looking forward to the current drama, dingy shades passing over Shepard’s vacant face, before the man closes a hand roughly around his Commander’s shoulder, grating out again in her ear, spit flying from his mouth to land on her dark skin, ‘’You cost me ‘lotta money, darlin’.’’
Shepard reacts at once, twisting away on her stool and smashing the glass she’s holding directly on the guy’s face – Shit! - sound of the glass cracking and howling of the man sinking to his knees as bits of transparent pieces stick into his skin, embedded deep. It explodes; Ash punches a jaw as another grabs the Commander’s hair, yanking it backwards harshly just as Kaidan feels a fist collide against his lip. It tears and he reels, falling, but instantly sweeping his foot and kicking out as everyone begins to yell; patrons screaming excitedly, catcalling and whistling at events going down, cheering on the group for elbows in ribs and headbutts exchanged as the asari stop dancing on stage to shrug. One of them manage to punch Shepard, sending her spinning, and yet, she doesn’t use her biotics, merely shaking her head to rid the temporary confusion of the blow and launching herself back at the bigger body, itching to use her muscles before the bouncers decide to act instead of watch for their allocated fun. Kaidan ducks from a hit and knees a stomach, breaking a nose and ramming the owner’s forehead against the counter to send him unconscious, hands up in front of him defensively only to see Ashley laughing ruthlessly as she weaves around clumsy hands, her footwork and balance making the larger assailant lose his wild bearings, until the Chief finally grabs a salarian’s glass without a halt in her movement to break it deliberately against his face, green insides washing away the dark blood dripping from his nostrils. They both turn to see the last attacker struggling on the ground, wheezing as Shepard is tucked behind him, arms around his neck, slowly choking him to blackness with her lips parted in an almost smirk, bloodlust ascending further as she strangles him while everything around her freezes to watch. At last, the legs stop twitching, the bloody face relaxing as his eyes close, and a krogan behind their CO roars his approval, guffawing loudly and helping Shepard up, giving her the large drink he clutches in his hand, showing respect. Kaidan shakes his head as the Commander laughs back, grinning, looking fuzzy in the dim lighting and almost ethereal, red on brown skin trailing thinly from a cut eyebrow down her cheek, only making her more shimmery as the beams of maroon and pink pass over the blood to highlight her like a bright vision of violence in the murkiness.
Dead heroes aren’t as inspiring as live ones, and Kaidan drains his second fill, his eyes watery and tongue burning, thinking back to her face appearing too many times in too short a period for him to shove it away from his mind, growing like a tumour at the back of his brain as a solid pain he cannot run away from, months of his catatonic state chipping away at multiple triggers sending him crashing spectacularly. It’s so much worse than being empty that he longs for nothing instead, to merely exist without the wound freshly pricked open again along his chest, and the Lieutenant sets the glass down as gently as he can before his hands start to jitter, gripping onto it tightly, breaths rickety now that he has fallen down the spiralling hole when he had managed to be stagnant for so long. Of day cycles when the three of them worked together, reading something silly or doing their reports, of night cycles when they simply laid as a pile, comfortably warm skin sticking together from fluid, soft lips trailing over wanting flesh, the thrill of fingers lacing together in the gloom in secret and away from their former crew.
It’s only when the first tear splashes on the table that Kaidan realises he’s weeping, wiping it away angrily and controlling a sob lodged somewhere deep in his throat, because remembering those times are the worst. The same suffocating feeling like there’s just not enough oxygen as much as he tries to inhale, his lungs refusing to coordinate with his body as his vision greys around the edges, because remembering those times inevitably leads him to remembering Shepard being spaced on that awful day, all alone and so far away from the people who would rush to her if they could, never knowing more about the love that dies on his lips every time he wanted to say it, that the hole grows and grows until it consumes him whole, shutting out the lights and sucking out the air, colours of the world losing its vibrancy as his life simply continues like the incident never happened.
The turian guard finally does a weird, flanging laugh, plates expanding and voice tinged with a mild amusement, ‘’We’ve known them since Fist’s days,’’ grey eyes shifting over the passed out bodies on the floor, toeing them to double check, ‘’Been waiting for someone to do them in. Get out of here, you lot. We’ll deal with them when they wake.’’ Shepard nods, jovially claps her new krogan admirer on his thick arm while Ashley winks at a flushed asari gazing at her, and then the three of them are walking out of Chora’s Den, away from the stale smell of vomit and urine and out into the less reeking corridors, breaking out in laughter as they take in the sight of each other, a trio of busted and dishevelled mess, but eyes excited and shining with near drunk exhilaration. Kaidan tries to keep his face stern, disapproving, but he snorts at the other two instead, leaning against a wall to catch his breath, his lip stinging in pain. ‘’Ow,’’ he mumbles eloquently.
Shepard chuckles again, face stretching the cuts it must burn, and Ashley snickers, rolling her eyes before reaching for her small med-kit. The Staff Lieutenant watches in silence as she works, coming to stand in front of him, gentle hands cleaning away his split lip and dabbing the tiniest hint of medi-gel, the coolness making him sigh as he winds down, head resting backwards and throat offered freely for either to use, staring at his beautiful healer. Ash holds his gaze, smiling, raising a brow, ‘’Did you enjoy that?’’
No, is what he should say, but his features are giving everything away as Kaidan exhales, sweaty and raring to go another round as his inhibitors cease to be when he’s around them, ‘’Yes,’’ is what he ends up saying. The Chief giggles again, cheeks blossoming as she bites her bottom lip, and the only thing Kaidan can think of now is how much he wants to kiss her, heart beating under his armour, crowded against the wall by her arms on either side of his head boxing him in when she leans in, to grab her and undo her hair bun, get it all tangled in his fingers and making her moan as he tugs it. They’re staring at each other, hungry, captivated, then Kaidan’s eyes shift behind Ash, to Shepard, who’s also gazing at the two of them, obviously interested judging from the light flush on her cheeks. The Commander grins when he locks his sight on her, short hair sticking up on the left and blood still winding down in a thin line, and he can see her teeth are stained scarlet. White catching liquid red and coating her lips as she licks it away, and Kaidan feels his stomach flip, wanting to kiss her, too, through blood and sweat and clacking armour, grinding on the insides of his undersuit like a horny teenager as he drags his teeth to scratch skin and scrape the bob of her throat to make her whine. Dirty and desperate in this seedy corner of a seedy club, that it’s so exciting it makes his head spin and mouth hang in longing, the constricting armour and mild pain only making him more turned on than ever with his desires fogging up his brain and ability to think logically.
Ashley moves away from him to their CO, doing the same for her leaking eyebrow with Shepard looking at the Chief throughout as she wipes it away with a controlled affection that only the purple bruise on Shepard’s jaw remains, the one the Chief herself left in a fit of anger. Kaidan stares at them staring at each other, breaths washing over, a heavy armour just shy of grazing a medium one, and they all look so aroused even in the dimness. Where swinging fists and kneeing groins brings them together, back to back, bloody grins and knowing smirks exchanged, watching with bated breath as Shepard chokes the living daylights out of an attacker while looking straight at them, eyes glittering and dilated and wishing for so much more, questionable suggestiveness raking over their skins leaving lines. Dark passions enveloping them in a poisonous vapour as they’re surrounded by thugs and sultry dancers, drugs and alcohol mixed with a potent combination of death by Reapers looming over them to push things along in fiery heat and their lust crashing against their eroding restraints.
The Lieutenant’s throat clamps up when he thinks of Ash, his only steady constant since everything went to hell, and even then, she’s on the verge of sliding away. He is miserable, and so is she. The two of them just couldn’t go back to what they were before, almost like Shepard dying making them shrivel up and withdraw from each other, their faces a reminder of the one who’s missing in their triangle, swiftly slipping out of love in a hiccup. They certainly try, but the talks are barely sincere, trimmed truths, short and stuttering where they cannot be in the other’s presence without the damaging heartache that comes with it. Kaidan isn’t in the mood half the time, and Ash isn’t in the mood the other half, their relationship suffering and dissolving even though they’re still technically together. Together, but alone, somehow, because Kaidan is stoic and unresponsive, Ash too full of heart and emotional, that they grate at each other, skin rubbed raw and shredding when they come into contact of each other’s aura, both tarnished and tired as they drift away while standing next to one another and simply unable to communicate. It’s just... too much.
Kaidan’s eyes water again, drinks in his system channelling through his veins because the Lieutenant is fading with no one to pull him back, that similar, horrible feeling post-BAaT, somehow remaining a void as he moves along in a daze, not wanting contact with anyone or anything, that he thinks it’s better to be alone than deal with useless sentiment thrown at him. He’s staring at his palms, fingernails leaving crescent marks when he crumpled them into fists, and the words float to him slowly, in this smoky dreamscape without an exit where Kaidan is mindlessly trapped; ‘’Damn Alliance. Didn’t help anyone but themselves.’’ The Lieutenant jerks his head to his right, spotting a turian with orange markings talking loudly to a couple of asari, another salarian hovering beyond the edge of his vision, ‘’Left those thousands to die to protect their own damn ships.’’
‘’Shut up.’’
It takes him two seconds to realise it’s him who talked, grabbing the attention of the small group of aliens, and they all turn to watch him rise, Kaidan unsteady on his legs, one hand curved on the counter to keep his balance, mouth pulled downwards as he scowls to repeat, ‘’Shut the hell up.’’
‘’He’s right,’’ the salarian shoots back, ‘’Your Commander Shepard let the Council die just to save her own people.’’
Your Commander Shepard. It’s too much, too fast and hard, hitting him, and Kaidan whirls, the same thing again, painful memories piercing his skin and slicing his veins open, bleeding out openly with no respite, but he’s also shaking with rage now, because how dare they, how dare they insult her, ‘’She saved you. She saved all of you! She did what she had to, to destroy the Re-‘’ Reaper. Say it. The word that shouldn’t exist in his vocabulary, mystical and sentient machine gods threatening his own sanity, that it would be so easy, so easy to slip, to accidentally give up his career, snide Alliance officials rudely informing him he should remain an example to L2s everywhere, not spouting off myths and fictional bullshit because oh no, he would be labelled crazy. Stripped of rank and potentially warded, because he’s dangerous, decaying mental health a sign of his sure end. I am crazy, Kaidan thinks, thinks he’s certainly moving into actual crazy territory, devoid of reaction that one day he might fracture, bled dry and hopeless, shriek at these people, his bony knuckles breaching open against concrete walls and steely, trashing talking turians just like these. The Lieutenant’s eyes are wide, mouth slammed shut since he cannot bring himself to utter the magical word, so angry now his teeth hurt as they mash together, body trembling as he stares them down from his end, barely holding on.
The turian sneers at his silence, ‘’She saved herself. And all you racist humans, so selfish you would let-‘’ Kaidan breaks and flings his glass at him, but the turian easily ducks to dodge, and then the Lieutenant’s stumbling towards the alien group, arm already rearing back to punch a plate in, brain cloudy and violence streaming off him in waves, until the asari moves faster than him, jabbing a leg and shoving the Lieutenant backwards effortlessly, him being so underweight and weak anyone could have done it. Kaidan trips, clattering into a bunch of chairs to the sounds of people grumbling around him, and before he can swear, to scream murder, he’s hauled to his feet by another turian, but it’s so hard to make out anything now; everything too shadowy and flaky, like they all flicker around him in opaque gas that he’s squinting to see, head throbbing and enraged tears leaking from his eyes tracking down his gaunt, stubbled cheeks, heaving as he struggles to take in a full breath through the empty hole gaping in his chest he wonders maniacally if he’s dying. The alien holding him peers at his face, then hums, shakes his head and shuffles him to the door, heavy sounds and voices ebbing as the Lieutenant is set down on the floor outside the lounge. Kaidan’s ears burn and his skull feels like it’s going to burst out, so he holds his head to keep it in after wiping the snot from his nose and clamping his lids as the turian continues to linger over him, careful not to touch him and saying something he can’t hear because he’s falling away into the pit inside himself.
He suspects Captain Anderson knows about the three of them, from the way his kind eyes switches to Kaidan and Ashley sitting side by side every time during those Alliance intel meetings, kind eyes that perhaps rest on them longer than necessary when the committee discusses Shepard’s death, the Normandy, the geth, and the ‘’Reapers’’. Anderson never asks Kaidan directly about it, and if he didn’t ask him, he’s sure he never asks Ashley, either, only an ingrained doubt hiding beneath him that the Lieutenant never wants to fan the fires for.
‘’Do you need to talk about anything off the record, Alenko?’’ is what Anderson inquires once, to which Kaidan looked him straight in the face without a flinch to respond evenly, ‘’No, sir.’’ And that was that, because if anything, Kaidan has been the example of professionalism, straight and narrow, refusing to give even the slightest hint of his feelings simmering under, his duty and service done as diligently as always, if not more so. He’s early for every job, puts in the voluntary overtime without a complaint, does more than his fair share of work and stays behind to leave last once everyone completes their assignments, so brilliant in his service there’re whispers of a promotion. Anderson seems to want to question more, but he doesn’t, for which Kaidan is grateful, because there’s too much effort put into his current, composed state he’s not sure if he can handle a needling when he’s still exposed, nerve ends threatening to fray publically at the slightest nudge.
The Lieutenant falls out with Ashley, whom he only finds out quite some time later came close to failing her psych eval, bursting with unsuppressed emotions and having to stop herself from yelling for people to understand, to know what’s out there, what measures to be taken into account to prepare for the inevitable. The Chief wants to talk about everything, asks about how his own psych eval went, but Kaidan wants the direct opposite of that. Doesn’t want to tell her he breezed through it, because he knows the level of emotion to show, knows the right amount of sadness to exude, the right amount of fake tears to shed, that he clears the bar sky high, twisting himself to convey what he certainly doesn’t feel. So they shatter, unable to be with each other, Kaidan tunnelling away from Ashley’s graceful encompassing, unable to even argue properly because their heart succumbs and withers in constant reminder of what could have been, what should have been, that Kaidan even snaps to tell her off once, ‘’For God’s sake, Ash, just let it go. I don’t want to talk about this. Do you want me to lie? You know I’m a much better actor than you.’’ That the Lieutenant feels no remorse, no irritation, just a hollow shell of existence continuing to be when Ashley purses her lips, ‘’Evidently so.’’
They lose track of things and time, stationed at the Citadel to help Anderson and Udina, their statements about the geth, Saren, all consuming their hours, that they turn invisible. Blind to each other despite living in the same, shoddy rented apartment, of minimal warmth or comfort, months going by where Kaidan and Ashley deteriorate, limited words exchanged and little to no physical contact, even as the Chief never fails to try on occasion. Like a persistent ghost wanting him to remember, to share, the softest caress even as they collide against unwavering and stubborn, icy brick walls adamant about being left alone.
He’s not sure how long he sits there stewing in his misery, back slouched against the wall, legs stretched out, callous of his head trying to kill him, but he sees the familiar physique in the hair bun entering his sights, black boots walking over to him. Ashley squats down, watery brown eyes taking in the small wound along his cheekbone where the chair’s hard edges slit open his clammy flesh, and she sighs, looking so sad that Kaidan doesn’t want to see her like this, especially since it’s because of him.
‘’Did you enjoy that?’’
The Lieutenant stills, swallowing, forcing himself not to collapse as his eyes shift past Ash’s shoulder, but there’s no one else standing there this time. No one with rumpled hair and a shiny bruise gazing at them, no one grinning widely with bloodstained teeth so satisfied, no lanky frame in armour wearing an infuriating smirk that he has nightmares about now way too often, of fingers winding around his neck and that voice murmuring in his ear. Kaidan sniffs, sob screaming past his defences, whispers, ‘’No,’’ and then he’s falling again, falling forward, only this time, Ashley is there. His head hits her collarbone and his arms are curling around her, clutching on tight because she’s the only anchor back he has, and it’s physical contact he has yearned so much, the dam he has built rupturing within him at last as he properly cries for the first time in four months into the Chief’s clothes, who says nothing as she holds him, not letting go, snivelling along with him. The beating of her heart thudding along with his, the hotness of her body travelling from her to him as they hang onto each other, the four months of distance and separation to mend, that it’s so overwhelming, it’s hard to stop for the both of them now that they’ve started, finally splintering in front of each other without hiding away.
‘’I’ve missed you,’’ Ashley mumbles in his ear, ‘’You worry me, Kaidan.’’ He wonders if he has grown smaller in her embrace, shrinking, or if she has grown bigger, since the muscles in his arms are sore but he doesn’t ease on his grip, this feeling so foreign in recent times he has forgotten what it gives him, the tiny flame relighting inside, flooding through his torso with tenderness and his affection for her, ‘’I’m sorry, Ash. I- I don’t want to lose you, too. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to-‘’
‘’We’ll work it out.’’
It’s new promises and new beginnings, two sets of arms coiling around each other, because it has to be this way, a hurt duo of broken sickness struggling to find their way back on the path they abandoned, settling upon them that it’s no longer the webbed trio of the knotted mess they know. This affliction for which they join hands to scale together, to face a new fight and purpose head on, because Kaidan is wrong; it’s always better with Ashley than facing it alone by himself in the dark.
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