Identity (a Mass Effect fanfiction)

Partner

It was stupid to keep going over the plan, Shepard knew. They didn't have anywhere near enough certainty about what they would find on the other side of the Omega 4 relay to rely on any given plan. He would have to change course on the fly, making decisions on the spur of the moment. And of course he knew his people inside and out by now, their skills and weaknesses and how they worked with each other. But reading the dossiers over again gave him a feeling of at least being able to do something to prepare. He couldn't just sit here and do nothing, and he sure as hell wasn't going to be getting any sleep.

He took a deep, burning swallow of bourbon, closing his eyes as it spread through him, warming him. It wasn't enough, but it was something. Would this be his last glass? Would these be his last hours on the Normandy, his last hours of life? He had died once already, but he hadn't had the chance to think about it then; he'd just acted, and then the end was inevitable. It had been much easier than this.

Maybe that was some comfort, he thought, knowing how easy it had been to die, how quickly and surely the decision that had led to his death had come to him.

Or so he told himself, turning to the next dossier and studying the description of Samara's biotic strengths. Whoever had put the dossier together wasn't as precise as Shepard would have liked, focusing less on the details and more on the descriptors, but it was close enough when added to what he had learned about Samara from working with her.

A faint knock came at the door, so soft he almost thought he hadn't heard it, and he held his breath, listening hard. There was no sound for several heartbeats, and then it came again, a little louder.

"Come in," he called.

The door slid open as he closed the dossier file and stood up. He was both startled and yet not startled to see Jack standing there in the doorway. She shifted from foot to foot.

"Shepard."

"Jack."

"I— You ..." She shook her head. "I shouldn't have come here."

"I wasn't expecting you," he admitted, "but ... I'm glad you're here." He wanted to move toward her, but she was so tense, every line of her body poised to flee at the slightest provocation.

"I've been thinking about you, and—Shepard, you fucker, what have you done to me?"

Aaron grinned. That sounded more like her. "What would you like me to do to you?"

"Don't be cute. Don't you dare stand here and be cute, not when you—when I—" She shook her head, her face distressed. "Maybe you're right, maybe I need to ... Oh, damn it." She swiped the back of her hand across her eyes.

"Hey." He closed the space between them, tilting her face up toward him, seeing the sheen of tears there in her eyes before she could blink it away. "It's all right."

"Is it?"

He nodded, holding her gently there with his hands cupped around her jaw. "No more questions."

Her eyes were luminous in the blue light from the aquarium, her mascara running as she blinked away more tears.

"No more questions," Aaron repeated, and then he kissed her.

He had imagined kissing Jack as a passionate experience, wild and uncontrolled and savage. But this was not that at all. This was ... sweeter, softer. And when it was over, Jack came into his arms and laid her head on his shoulder, her body trembling against his.

Aaron was filled with wonder, with a knowledge that his feelings for this woman went far deeper than he had imagined. "Jack—" he began.

She pulled his head down to hers. "Shut up, Aaron." She kissed him again, and then there was no further need for words.