Identity (a Mass Effect fanfiction)

Jack

He supposed he should have known the truth when Liara looked at him, her eyes soft and hesitant, and asked him if what they'd once had together was still there. But he had been so startled by the question, thinking that the decision not to continue with Liara had been made already so long ago, that it hadn't occurred to him to consider anything but how to frame his refusal. He hadn't even known what to say. He had stood there staring at Liara until she had prodded him.

"Shepard?"

The name woke him from his trance—it was always Shepard with her. Never Aaron. Because even after ... everything, she still saw him as a symbol rather than as a man. As hardened and tough as Liara had become, as disillusioned, as entranced with the Shadow Broker's knowledge and power, there was still a hero worship in her that left her unable to see him as anything other than the man who had saved her on Therum, the one who had taken her along with him and shown her the galaxy in a whole new way. She would always see him like that, he knew, and the answer had come so easily then that he hadn't thought further about whether another woman would have garnered a different response from him.

It hadn't been hard to say no, to put his hand on her shoulder and shake his head and say he was sorry, but they weren't meant for one another. And she had taken it well, with courage. Liara had that in spades. He left her and went back to work, his whole focus on the never-ending tasks to accomplish before he could think about leading a fleet back to Earth and taking out the Reapers once and for all.

-----

It should have been a clue when he first saw the name on the list of instructors he was reading over as Cortez piloted the shuttle toward Grissom Academy. Jacqueline Nought. Jack. His heart had leaped in his chest, even as his head was scoffing at him for imagining that Jack was a teacher. Jack. Teaching children. Right. Surely this one had to be someone else, because who in their right mind would give her a job like that? And why would she take it, even if it was offered?

But he hadn't heard a word from her since their last argument, when he'd said he was going to Earth to face up to his tribunal whether she liked it or not, and she'd said she didn't like it, and fuck him anyway, why did he think she cared what he did? Or words to that effect. He hadn't known where she had gone after that, and marooned on Earth as he had been, he hadn't been able to find out.

He hadn't had a chance to see Doug or Rachel while he was there, either, stuck in Vancouver at the Alliance facility, and he hadn't tried that hard, not wanting them to see him like that, disgraced and grounded. And he hadn't tried very hard to find Jack, either, in his rare moments of free extranet time, sure that this particular version of Commander Shepard, the one leashed by the Alliance like a misbehaving dog, wasn't something she wanted. And in the aftermath of the attack on Earth, he had tried not to think of any of them—of Doug and Rachel in the midst of the Reaper invasion, of Jack somewhere out in space no doubt trying to fight and getting herself in trouble.

But if she was here, at Grissom ... He leaned forward, hovering over Cortez's shoulder, even though he knew the pilot hated that.

"We're getting there, Commander."

"Not fast enough, Lieutenant."

"Nothing's ever fast enough for you."

"Damn right. Now step on the gas, will you? I'd like to get there while there's still something to save." But the words were too true for comfort, and he had to pull his pistol, checking it over with exaggerated care, to put something in his line of sight to stop the visions of what—of who—he might find dead already inside the academy.

-----

When he saw her ... then he knew.

Her beautiful tattooed face. Her dark hair grown out, pulled back, softening the edges just a bit, her eyes hard as ever as they met his, her thoughts unreadable. "Well, well. Aaron fucking Shepard. When Kahlee said she was sending out an SOS, I had no idea we'd be getting the king of the Boy Scouts."

It stung. Was that really how she still saw him, some goody-goody? Aaron Shepard was rarely at a loss for words, but all he could manage right now was her name. "Jack."

She wasn't listening to him, anyway; she had turned back to her students and was riding them about their performance in the fight. Knowing her as he did, he could hear that she was proud of them, that she cared about them and had been frightened for them, and was covering it all by being angry. He wondered if they could hear that, too.

And then she was leaping over the wall, landing easily and coming toward him, and he was trying not to smile, trying to brace himself for anything, even while realizing that he had never been happier to see anyone in his life.

So when she punched him, saying "That was for leaving, dumbass," he wasn't entirely surprised. And when she followed that up with a kiss ... well, he would have had to be coherent to be surprised. The feel of her body in his arms, all energy and tightly leashed power, like holding a live electric wire; the always startling softness of her full lips against his; the undeniable passion in her kiss. Those were all he could think about.

It didn't matter that she was still angry at him for turning himself in to the Alliance. It didn't matter that they were at war with the Reapers and probably going to die. The only thing that mattered was that what they had had together was still there ... and that somewhere along the line she had tattooed her name on him, imprinted it deep within his bones and tissue.