The conference was a small affair - no vaulted ceiling here, just the cavernous shuttle bay of the dreadnaught. The press corps was pretty diverse - mainly humans, but at least two Asari, a salarian, Turian and even a Drell. And Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani. Shepard met her eyes and nodded cordially at her. She managed a wan smile back at him. Last time they'd met they had reached an accord of sorts. Never quite eye to eye, but never as brutal as some more seedy tabloids would have you believe. His appearance had caused a brief chatter amongst the journalists, as well as a few flashes from camera drones and omni-tool scans. So, that was cover thoroughly blown then.
He managed a quick glance around the room as a whole: an effort had been made - banners representing all the Council races were draped from the lifting cranes; the crew were lined up at the edges of the room in full dress uniform; the chairs were neatly laid out and over to one side there was a modest buffet for post-conference relief. And to provide ample opportunity for ambush by zealous reporters.
He listened as Hackett delivered the standard welcome, a quick update on the state of affairs - the trials ahead; the importance of coming together, what had already been achieved. Old platitudes, but important ones. The galactic family. He squeezed his eyes shut at that, stomach lurching, memories roiling for a moment. A cliff, a dusky sky and red sands, Hope - as if it was yesterday but now so very long ago.
And then his name. He started suddenly, the rank an unfamiliar addition. A gentle pressure on his hand brought him back to the present. He glanced and saw his mother nod. Standing carefully, he leaned against the cane he had been issued - his left leg still in a bad way - and took several deliberate and slow steps to the podium.
What to say? He'd been briefed: simple, to the point. The truth, as much as that was possible, Try not to rock the boat, he supposed.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it is a pleasure, a privilege and a relief to be standing in front of you now." His eyes surveyed the room, only really recognising Al Jilani - no Emily Wong it would seem. A casualty? Likely. Another friend lost to a hideous and senseless war. He steeled himself and persevered, "I'll try not to repeat what Admiral Hackett has said. It's been nearly a year and I'm sure you've heard it all before. It bears repeating, though: we faced an enemy far far beyond anything our societies have ever faced. We came through it. You came through it. We have lost much. So much. But we are still here. And although I've only been up on my feet a few days, I can say I am proud to be part of the galaxy again. My regret is that I wasn't able to help. Yes?"
He pointed at a Turian in the front row. The man rose, his mandibles twitching in what Shepard recognised as the preamble to a question. The man's two-toned voice was higher pitched than Garrus' indicating a Turian just out of his juvenile phase.
"Admiral, it's clear that you are among the living again, but why the year long absence?"
"Injury. From what I was told, I was lost in the medical triage chain, listed as MIA and eventually KIA: that's missing in action and killed in action for those of you not yet quite up with the military speak."
The Turian nodded and sat down - a straightforward answer, like his audience would most likely demand. Another hand was raised; Shepard nodded to the questioner, an Asari. She gave him a cool look and raised her Omni tool to record.
"Commander, I hope you don't mind me calling you that, it's what we all remember, what exactly happened during that final push?"
He managed to bite back the retort - it would have been out of character. And the rank was almost like his first name these days. Shepard managed a smile, but he morphed it into a vaguely confused expression.
"To be honest ma'am, sorry, I didn't your name, it's very blurry. I remember heading onto the Citadel and triggering the device designated the Crucible. I am sure you haven't asked every soldier for a blow by blow recount of every fire fight that day?"
"Do you feel the number of soldiers committed to the assault in Lon-Don was a worthwhile tactical risk?"
He studied her for a moment and nodded slowly.
"It was our only viable course of action - as I am sure the freely available reports show, as well as witness testimonies, an assault on the Citadel directly would have led to an increase in casualties by 43.5% I remember the number because the Geth are very precise on these things. A ground assault, it was decided, was the best method to both assist a very drained defence force and to prevent Reaper forces from reinforcing…"
"But don't you think you owe it to the families of those men and women to provide a more detailed account of what they were sacrifice-"
"That is enough!"
Shepard was shocked that it hadn't been him that had spoken. He was more shocked that it was Al Jilani who had rocketed to her feet. She fixed the Asari with a steel glare.
"Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News. And don't you dare insinuate that the Admiral did anything less than necessary. I have given that man the hardest time I can and not once, not once did he demand anything. Shame on you, shame on all of you. Because of him you're able to stand there all blue and smug."
Shepard coughed lightly and smiled at the zealous reporter. He managed a thankful nod, and then fixed his gaze on the vaguely stunned Asari.
"From what I understand, the final tally for casualties in London during Hammer's assault stands at 650,000 estimated. That includes Krogan, Turian, Quarian, Asari, Elcor, Volus, Salarian Free Volunteers and human, as well as other unaffiliated races. Everyone knew the choice here: die on your back, die mad under the Reapers, die with a gun in your hand or live with a gun in your hand. That doesn't include casualties inflicted during the occupation of Earth. Or the occupation of Thessia. Or Palaven. I believe that tally still hasn't been tabulated but sits somewhere in the low billions. Now, if I could bring every damn one of them back by dying myself, I would, by the gods I would. But if you want to talk about debts, then every family still alive out there owes that to those men and women. Me, I was just the lucky sap who made it through. Me and Admiral Anderson, who died in the execution of his duty."
Shepard took a shuddering breath and loosened his grip on the podium. He watched the Asari sit down, cowed by the expressions of her fellows. A Salarian stood next and cleared his throat.
"Admiral, what do you have to say to those commentators that would accuse you of genocide?"
The question caught him off guard.
"Genocide? You'll have to forgive me, I am not quite up to date on the latest political ball games."
"Simply that some aspects of the community believe that by eliminating the Reapers you utterly denied any chance to rehabilitate the huskified victims of their assault; indeed, by wiping out a major synthetic species you condone such actions. If, as rumours would indicate, the Reapers are, or were, the collective cultural remnants of previous species, you are in fact guilty of destroying entire histories, a great cultural crime."
Another shocker. Shepard was impressed and yet also utterly taken aback. He rallied, however - you don't talk down a giant ageless metal monster by being easily flustered. By women, yes; space monsters no. And definitely not by journalists.
"All I can say to that is that I will face my detractors, if indeed there are any, and that I will submit myself to any recognisable court that wishes to make the claim that eliminating an implacable, unknowable threat was a war crime. Sir, if I may be so bold, I would state that you are talking out of your cloacae." A delightful phrase from Kirrahe, and one which caused the Salarian to blink in surprise, "We were faced with an enemy that brainwashed it's victims, liquefied prisoners and offered no surrender, only subjugation. I would like to apologise if you, sorry, members of the community were denied the privilege of becoming part of a genetic soup encased in alien metals, forced to relieve their dying moment for eternity."
The nervous laugh that rippled round the room barely defused the tension. Shepard pressed on, his voice clear, but low, almost a monotone.
"However, I and all those who served with me had been charged with saving as many innocent lives as possible. I would like to point out that the Reapers had signed no treaties, were subject to no galactic law, nor chose to engage in dialogue. I would also like to remind you, sir, that I was given explicit instructions from the Council and no less than nine leaders of various political power blocs to do my utmost to trigger the device that was seen as a "last ditch effort". We did not know if it would merely scare them off, fire some Chinese cookies at them or fry them to within an inch of their lives. And, frankly, having seen what a Reaper is like on the inside, I feel that what I did was a mercy on those poor souls who fell before us. I am glad that we have the ability to ask questions like that."
He looked at the crowd and managed a friendly smile that just avoided being a rictus.
"We are alive. So many are not, but it dishonours them to not do our utmost to cherish that we are still here and able to ask inane, thoughtless, questions, to debate morality. It's what me and mine are here for. Thank you ladies and gentlemen; I feel that I have said enough. I believe the Admiral and his staff will take further questions during the hosting event."
He pushed himself away from the podium and grasped at the cane. He limped back towards his chair as the reporters thundered into more questions behind him, quelled only by Hackett damn near shouting them down. He slumped heavily into the seat, clenching his teeth as pain hissed through his damaged knee. His mother's concerned face turned to him but he managed to shake his head, to keep her seated for a moment. He managed a tight smile.
"I think that went well."
"Fox. Chicken coop. I'm sure there're a few other analogies. But yes, quite a few noses out of joint I wouldn't warrant. But also records straightened. Well done John."
"Thank you Admiral."
A short summary and then came the tedious one-on-ones, the round of buffet drinks and finger food. He maintained polite conversation, but the various Alliance chaperones kept the majority of journalists at bay. Only Al Jilani got through. She held out a hand, chin tilted up. Shepard took it and pulled her into a hug, clearly startling the woman and a few other bystanders. He released her a moment later and nodded.
"Keep pushing us, Khalisah. Keep making sure we do the right thing for the right reasons. And before I forget - it's good that you're still with us."
She blinked, clearly slightly dazed. The reporter gave him a smile.
"You too, Admiral Shepard. You too."
__________________________________________________________
The rest of the afternoon had passed uneventfully, with the press dispersing after only an hour. He'd managed to get away with only a couple of statements and an apology from the Asari journalist. He had had the good grace to accept without snapping, which had surprised him. Now, however, he was moving to a much more pleasant duty. He stood in front of the airlock, his heart thundering in his chest. Just like yesterday. He remembered the first time seeing her - Joker leaning nonchalantly against a Cerberus bulkhead, a smug look on his face. He could see the sleek shape stretching out, visible through the portholes nearby.
"Ready?" His mother's voice was cool and collected, ever the admiral. He glanced at her and smiled, looking past her to Miranda, who had insisted on joining him on this. Her exact words had been Someone has to brief Chakwas and make sure you don't jump into another suicide mission. He gave her a nod and turned back to the door, shifting the grip on the cane in his left hand. Part of him resented it, never really liking that he had to rely on external support - he'd always prided himself on his resilience. However, Miranda had pointed out his reliance on a team, which was similar. He had shot back that he couldn't upgrade the cane's sidearm or engage it in an interesting debate on the ethics of history.
And yet it was a comfort as well, a tacit reminder that he was here. The pressure against his palm, the feel of support. He'd have preferred another type, but that thought was pushed to the dark place at the back of his mind. Something to deal with later, something to plan about when he could think clearly and in peace. Or something he could ignore and hopefully never have to address again.
He let out a shuddering breath and felt Hannah's hand on his shoulder. She thought he was worried about this. If only it were that simple. Eyes locked straight ahead, he adjusted the new Admiral's cap atop his head and stepped forwards as the airlock slid upwards.
A two tone whistle announced his arrival, followed by an accented voice bellowing:
"Admiral on Deck - Company, 'ten-SHUN. Pre-sent ARMS."
He stepped through as dozens of feet clanked against deck plating. As he entered the corridor behind the cockpit he couldn't help but smile. Crew lined the thoroughfare all stood at rigid attention, their hands raised in salute. In front of him Vega grinned lazily, arm raised in salute, his dress blues clearly under a lot of strain over the man's ridiculous bulk.
"Ship ready for inspection, sir."
Shepard leaned slightly on his right leg and pulled the cane under his left arm, like a baton of old, before slamming a crisp salute of his own.
"Thank you Lieutenant Commander. Please, stand the men easy. The Captain?"
"Major Alenko is in the CIC ready to brief you, sir. An honour to have you aboard."
"You're loving this aren't you."
"Hey, not every day you get to make the great Com-Admiral Shepard get all dressed up. Not in my usual day-plan, loco." Grinning, James presented another salute, returned by Shepard, before turning smartly to the crew. "At EASE! Stand easy."
The hands dropped, the crew slammed to at an ease pose and relaxed. Shepard nodded, satisfied then peered into the cockpit at a still-seated Joker, EDI sat in the co-pilot's seat. The pilot braced up in his chair and nodded.
"Welcome aboard, sir. Hope you don't mind if I don't stand, might take a while."
He chuckled - Joker was actually a little embarrassed!
"Stand, or rather sit easy, Joker. Ignore the gold braid, never was much one for formality, you know that. Good to be back aboard. She still handling well, or is she now too much for a now average Alliance pilot.
"Ooooh them's fighting words Co- Admiral. God dammit sir, not fair. I'd break my hand and get tossed in the brig." Joker chuckled, "Still handles like a dream… the ship too!"
EDI looked across at him sharply. Shepard snorted and turned away to avoid further shocks.
"Carry on… or rather, wait until I'm out of earshot please."
He heard Miranda greeting the pilot behind him, their old formality long lost - there was the hint of a teasing note in her voice now when she spoke. He proceeded down the concourse away from the cockpit, towards the CIC, cane clicking against the deck plating. He nodded at every crew member, spared a word, a thank you, a hand-shake, until he reached the large holographic map. Kaidan Alenko came to attention and performed a crisp salute: Shepard was getting bored of this now. He returned it with a mock-steel glare at the Major.
"Don't tell me you're going to pull this official crap too?"
"Only for the Camera's sir. I see Al Jilani is accompanying us."
"We've come to an accord. You'll probably get the reruns later on ANN," he looked around at the crew and nodded, "Thanks for this, Kaidan. I mean that."
"Ready to say a few words?"
"When am I not?"
"Point taken. Talking my damn ear off to get me to explain about BAaT down in the mess. Don't know how I handled that boss."
"Mental scarring, deep denial and a pathological urge to outdo me? Well done on that by the way."
Kaidan chuckled and gestured to the podium of the CIC, which raised over the holographic image of the Normandy and starmap. He hobbled onto it, watching as the crew filed in to listen. There'd be a few at duty station in engineering and the cargo bay, but most were here. Regardless, he keyed the shipboard PA system.
"Ladies, Gentlemen… Vega. It is an honour to be back here again. This is going to be the second speech I've done today, but this one is for me. Selfish, maybe, but I wanted to say thank you to all of you. Each and every one. You have given so much and you continue to give. I am proud to have served with you and damn proud to be allowed back on board, considering the crap you put up with in the past!"
That got a couple of cheers and some laughs. He waited for them to subside and look across the room.
"I heard about your little Gilligan's island period, lost in the wilderness. I cannot imagine how that must've been. The fact you all held together, pushed through and brought this hunk of rust home is a miracle and a blessing. Everyone sacrificed so much, but for me The Normandy and her crew have always led from the front, always survived the odds. You are the reason I'm still here, getting me through stuff that should've killed my team and I over and over again. And if there are gods out there, ones not interested in galactic obliteration, then I want to thank them letting me get back to just say thank you. Now," here he removed the cap from his head and leaned against the railing as the applause rattle dutifully along; he swore he could see a couple of the crew sniffing, even Specialist Traynor, her mock sarcastic facade cracking a little, "I distinctly remembering there being a bar aboard. Rear Admiral Shepard has advised me that her crew will be overseeing duties for the rest of the day aboard ship. Who wants a beer?"
The cheering and applause could be heard all the way down in engineering.
Shepard roared with laughter and slapped his leg, which caused him to go wide eyed with pain, which just got more laughter from the crew, Chakwas included.
"And then you said 'but why four?'" Donnelly elaborated, as Gabriella glowered. She smacked his chest as the Scottish engineer draped an arm around her.
"Hey, how was I supposed to know that he was talking about… those. And I didn't expect that to mean it was a proposition!"
Shepard wheezed, wiping his eyes. He prodded Donnelly.
"So, you were all ready to jump in and defend her honour?"
"Oh aye, totally. Would've brought the scaly bugger some ryncol first for being brave though!"
Another smack, but he just kissed Gabby's forehead. She blushed and muttered something under her breath. But she was smiling.
"I see your point. See what you missed out on Adams - young love, blossoming against adversity…" he watched the elder engineer roll his eyes, swigging from a bottle.
"A horny Krogan and a tattooed psychopath…" elaborated Gabby, with mock nostalgia. She glared at Donnelly and grinned wickedly, "'Course there was that time Jack managed to…"
"Ah! No, we dinnae need to go there - Ah've still got the scars from the cloth burn."
Shepard pushed himself to his feet and wobbled. He grinned as he steadied himself, waving away their concerns.
"Look, just because I had the Citadel drop on me doesn't mean you lot to treat me like I'm a glass statue. Now, enjoy, I need a top up."
He limped to the bar and eased himself into a seat, nodding gratefully as Gardner passed him a beer. The cool alcohol was a welcome respite, a chance to to wallow in a good moment with no concerns. Before, any socialising had been done against a backdrop of war, or imminent destruction - moments of peace snatched against chaos. That always lent a sense of manic desperation to proceedings; or at least a "throw your arms in the air" kind of dance. Now, though, in this place aboard what had once been his ship? Now it was a sense of peace, of family and friends. He smiled as Miranda chatted animatedly to Traynor, the woman utterly oblivious to the stare and rapt attention the British Specialist was giving her. Or maybe she was. He noticed Miranda's thigh brush Samantha's knee a couple of times and she was certainly orienting herself against the light.
"Admiring the view sir?" He glanced up at Kaidan's wolfish grin as the Major eased down into a stool next to him.
"It's like watching a hunter and prey playing out. Can't decide which is which though."
"Things do change. Why isn't she staying on Earth? Thought she had a sister."
"Apparently Oriana is helping in a refugee camp in Sydney. Plenty of security, lots of resources and the promise of Miranda's wrath should any harm come to the girl. She's got a couple of Krogan guards. But really, not much to protect against down there - the odd separatist or fanatic, maybe some husk remnants, shielded from the transmission." Shepard took a swig and saw Kaidan shift, "Something on your mind?"
"Do you think there're any left, Shepard? Any that survived?"
The Admiral shrugged, "We killed most of them. Sovereign was just one and we killed it with an unoptimised fleet. Now… now we know what to look for. But I don't think the ships are left. Maybe an enclave of indoctrinated. Maybe some husks, or a destroyer, lost and alone. But so long as we hold together, no… they're gone." Kaidan nodded, seemingly reassured. Shepard patted his arm, "And if something does emerge, something does come back from the dark… we beat the damn fleets at the height of their power. They aren't invincible. And they know we know that. Any that are left… are insane and trapped."
He saw the man's curious expression and suddenly he felt the urge to change the subject, to avoid those memories, that light the voices.
"Kaidan, I want to thank you. I know this is damn near borderline me coming aboard. Feels like I'm taking over. Appropriating your ship for a lift."
"I feel the same," Shepard jolted slightly, but raised an eyebrow, relaxing as Kadian chuckled, "How d'you think I felt when I took command after you were… gone? Felt like I was wearing someone else's clothes, someone else's skin. Still do to an extent. This will always be your home Shepard, as much as any of us. So, don't feel bad. You've even got your cabin for the trip. And we cleaned the sheets for you, boss. So, thanks are unnecessary. For pulling our asses out of the fire, for having our backs… a lift is the least we can do." He took a swig, "It's why we're also giving you some beer and food. I think that makes us even."
Across the room, Traynor was glassy eyed as Miranda had leaned in to whisper something in her ear, hand on the woman's knee. The former Cerberus operative had pulled away with a grin, before damn near gliding across the room to talk to someone else, before vanishing out of the room. The Specialist had smoothed her shirt nodded to herself, looked around and positively sprinted from the room. The pair of officers chuckled. Shepard raised his bottle and clinked it against Kaidan's.
"I'll drink to that."
A tower of blue-veined skulls. It moved, becoming a walking spire of tendrils. Each skull fixed their three-socketed gaze upon his face. They screamed - a deep, blaring horn of a noise, undulating with higher pitched tones. Blood oozed from the walking monstrosity, bubbling beneath its hulking form. It strode forwards, smashing against indistinct towers. dissolving shadowy figures beneath it with another echoing shrieking bellow.
He staggered under the onslaught. He tried to run, but his feet were bogged down amongst a pile of dessicated corpses. The face of a collector oozed to the surface of the pile, a chitinous hand grasping at his wrist. Another bellow dragged his panicked gaze upwards. A tendril closed down on him, threatening to crush him. As it drew inexorably nearer, the tower of death roared again, a reverberating sound; the skulls at the tentacle's tip drew apart, revealing a shatter, purple visor…
He shot awake, sucking in deep, ragged breaths, the pistol clutched in his hand, pointing at the door. There was nothing there. The room was dark bathed in a blue glow from the fish tank, still fully populated.They kept the fish he'd thought as he had staggered, limping unsteadily, back into his old cabin.
But there was still a noise - not a bellow, but an insistent beeping. He saw the orange light of his, no Kaidan's, personal terminal flashing. Though it probably wasn't his place, he got to his feet, planting bare skin against deck plating. Carefully he edge along the bed, using the coffee table, then the pillar of the display case to ease his aching form up to the raised office area. Dully, he realised the pistol was still in his hand, but he seemed unable let go of it. Surely Kaidan would've rerouted all messages? Or Liara would at the very least. Which meant it was likely for him.
He keyed the acknowledge button, noticing that his hand was shaking as he pressed the button. He was still staring at it as the voice emerged from the speakers.
"You complete bosh'tet."
His gaze whipped up, meeting a purple visor and slitted silver eyes. She was shaking herself. He could tell. Not quite as much as him. He saw her pause, evidently taking him in. But whereas before her next question would've radiated concern, now her voice was clipped and angry.
"A year. You ran off and left me and now you waltz back after a year, you selfish selfish man. Have a nice time? Get some Asari pregnant?"
He had never seen her like this. Now he saw her he could take in more detail - her once loose purple cloth was now a tight wrap, darker in hue, nearly black. Her suit, as she leaned back, was more military now - Admiral markings, utility straps more uniform across her chest, armour as well it looked like.
"Coma,." he managed to breath out.
"How convenient."
He shook his head and frowned, utterly utterly lost. And angry as well.
"Yes, well, dropping off an exploding space station kind of ruined my day."
"Really? It fucking ruined my life you inconsiderate human."
"What?"
"And now you're back, waltzing back like some conquering hero. You selfish ass."
He ran a hand through his hair, feeling his fingers come away wet with perspiration. A really bad dream then. His thoughts were fogged by fear, stress and not a little bit of alcohol.
"Well, can't have been that bad. I hear congratulations are in order."
He saw her stiffen, her helmeted head tilting in what he knew was her "Oh now I'm pissed" face. He felt a little twinge of bitter victory there.
"Yes. And at least he hasn't abandoned me when I needed him. Someone I can actually build a future with." She practically spat the words at him. He leaned back slowly, the death grip on the pistol somehowtightening. He heard it scrape across the desk. Now she saw him properly, not the fuzzy ill-lit version, hunched over a terminal. She saw the etches on his face, the still-present exhaustion, the tracery of scars and still-not-healed stitches. The clear shine of sweat on his form. And the pistol. The twisted head straightened, clearly confused and, for a moment, she tilted forwards, concerned. He saw her hands drift together briefly, before she forced them out of view. He snorted, suddenly more tired than he'd ever felt.
"I'm glad it was a quick resolution for you. Let me know where to send the card. Good night Admiral Tali'Zorah."
He punched the disconnect button, cutting off her retort, then keyed in a block on incoming calls.
Only now did he realise his breathing was sharp and shallow. He forced himself to relax, a trick he'd learned during N7 training, during those long sniper assessments. But it didn't work. He staggered to his feet, vision blurring. He stumbled, falling against the cabin door. With a yell he launched the pistol at the model display, shattering the glass. With a choke he slid down the door and sagged, dry heaving for tears that wouldn't couldn't come.
After what seemed hours, he pushed himself to his feet. Like a man on autopilot he limped to the storage locker and pulled out a set of slacks from his meagre pile, as well as a shirt. He glanced at the time display - only ten minutes since she'd called. Wow.
He lurched through his door, onto the elevator, barely noticing the descent. He stumbled out on the crew deck, eyes fixed on the lounge. A few crew were slumped in the mess hall, he could hear their snores. He felt a hand grip his bicep and he turned, a snarl on his face. He met a calm stare from a serene blue face. She nodded slightly and pursed her lips in sympathy. He could see Kaidan lingering behind her, shorts and tee his only garb. He managed to make a couple of connections.
"I see I'm not the only one getting late night calls."
"I'm sorry Shepard. I am not sure what happened. Communication links are very tight, we barely had comms with Rannoch. But what you're about to do is… not the right course."
He managed a shrug, but it felt forced.
"Seems like a good fallback. It's how she handled her issues once. Learn from the master, maybe?"
Liara gripped his shoulders. Slowly she shook her head. Her eyes were softer now, soft like they used to be before all this. Before war had robbed them all of the wondrous ignorance and innocence. He buckled and sagged, near impacting the deck. He saw Kaidan moved, but pause as Liara held up a hand. His shoulders shook as suddenly, the weight of everything came home to rest. Arms enveloped him, as he breathed raggedly into a shoulder, the grief too big to bear not allowing him release.
"All dead. All dead. And no matter what I did we all lost. And I can't bring them back. Pressely, Javik, Anderson, Williams. All those people on Earth and Tuchanka and Thessia. And now… now Tali. Is there nothing nothing I can make that lasts? That isn't tainted, ruined, destroyed?"
He clutched at her, felt her rise and pull him up with her. Other arms gripped him, Kaidan helping him. They limped to the XO's cabin, where he was sat against a sofa. His friends hovered nearby, then sat down near him. Kaidan ran a hand through his sleep-ruffled hair, looking at his clearly broken former Commander. Through it all he'd never seen the man break, never seen him really falter. He had let the man down once before. Not again. He leaned forwards, resting his arms on knees.
"I think we better explain what happened on our… Gilligan island."
Even through the haze of despair and pent up grief and loss, Shepard managed a weak chuckle. Liara massaged Shepard's hand across the small table. Only now did the commander note how the place had been redesigned into more of a living space, rather than an office. Always picking up the little things. Stops the big things getting in the way. He took a shuddering breath, must've been the fiftieth that evening and leaned back, nodding. His mind was a jumble, but he marshalled himself, shoring up his old blocks; but now he knew they were so so fragile.
"Right. Let's do this."