#serabellyms: Kat;

[kleinewahines]

@serabellyms + Spotify Wrapped Starter [Accepting] + Kat #77- Take It Out On Me by Thousand Foot Crutch

Clearing his throat, he offered a bottled water. "You wanted it to be picture perfect, but... it's not over," he said, voice rasping a little over perfect. A bruise had started to form on his cheek, a little gash over one brown eye that had been steri-stripped. He wasn't walking as tall as he usually did, almost stooping.

And yet, he still managed to offer something of a smile.

"I thought I had it all under control. I guess I was wrong," he added quietly.

[lanternlit]

@serabellyms said: [COMFORT]: sender cups a distressed receiver's face in their hands and steadies them by resting their foreheads together. + reverse - kat & garrus 🥺

REASONS TO CUP A FACE    /    ACCEPTING ↷

❝ Shepard? ❞    His uninjured mandible twitches, pressing tight against his face in concern & tension. What does one do with a visibly distressed commanding officer?

Garrus is not sure she even hears him. His subvocals emit a stress-chirp, beyond human hearing range. What does one do? It doesn’t feel appropriate to touch her; he’s not sure where their boundaries lie.

What does one do with a visibly distressed close friend? Spirits, that’s what he should have asked himself to begin with.  That is easier.  How is it, that after all this time, even with how easy their camaraderie and banter is, even after all the sincere talks they’ve had, it’s so hard for him to know when to be a friend, when a squad member? This isn’t the Hierarchy, where rules & customs are clear, where one’s place in society is one’s rank. This is a friendship... and this is deep care, such that, for him, has long since ventured beyond friendship alone. The way he grieved her. They way he loves her, from afar yet from right by her side.

❝ Look at me, ❞    he says, voice low and steady. He rests his hands at her face, gently guiding her head.    ❝ I’m right here. ❞    He can’t promise her that it will all be OK.

So he does the only thing he thinks to do; leaning down to meet her, he touches his forehead to hers. The gesture is one of profound intimacy, yet he feels comfortable, natural, offering it; he loves her, yes, but... It is not over the line? He’s wanting to tell her she’s not alone. Turian parents and children do it, turian friends do it; just because he’s in love with her... doesn’t make this inappropriate? No. Of course not. Silly, feeling such a need to justify it to himself. Her skin is cool against his. And oh so alive.

[downs1de-has-moved]

FOR THE SICK

@serabellyms: "You don't need to take care of me."

Rust sits up on the mattress, the sole blanket covering him slipping down to his waist. The recently turned-on nightlight casts a soft glow around Kat, and her voice, tired and frustrated, whispers fragilely in the air.

In the room's darkness, Rust's eyes adjust to the dim light just to get a good look at Kat's face. Her restlessness shows in heavy bags under her eyes, and the corner of his lip curls in a soft, understanding smile.

"I know I don't."

He speaks softly, reassuringly, as he leans over and takes her hand. Their fingers intertwine as his thumb rubs gently against the back of her palm.

"Think I'm still gonna do it, though."

[hartlines]

SEND 💋 TO GIVE MY MUSE A VALENTINE'S KISS

@serabellyms — Katrina Shepard

It's interesting to think that, even after all the time they’ve been together—both officially and unofficially—this is the first Valentine's Day they’re celebrating as a couple. It’s also the first Valentine's Day he has celebrated in nearly a decade, so his planning skills are a bit rusty (pun not intended), but he’s determined to get the basics right.

That includes making dinner reservations and picking up flowers, which he bought on his way home from work. When he arrived at his apartment, Kat was already waiting for him, and it was clear she had taken the time to get ready.

He barely has time to take in her appearance before she takes the flowers from him and kisses him, leaving a faint imprint of her lipstick on his lips.

"You look--wow."

Smooth.

[kleinewahines]

@serabellyms | Kat Shepard + Kaidan Settling Dust Prompts [Always Accepting] [ AWAKE ]: the sender, unable to sleep, gets up to go for a walk, and finds that the receiver is also unable to sleep. + REVERSE

Kaidan was not entirely certain what had woken him up. There was nothing inherently different about sleeping on the SR-2 than there had been on the SR-1. The Normandy, for all that, was a space faring vessel and had all the hallmarks of said same. He knew that Tali had once commented that the Normandy was too quiet. The kind of quiet you only got if something was actually wrong with the ship.

But Kaidan had been through 'there's something wrong with the ship' once before. It had been loud. Heart-stopping, heart-wrenching, heart attack inducing.

So, if not the ship itself... why?

It had taken a number of months for Kaidan to get back into a proper sleep schedule after the Normandy went down over Alchera.

A soft sigh. He shook his head as he sat on his bunk, legs hanging over it with feet flat on the floor.

Even the air on the SR-2 was wrong. Kaidan put his face in his hands, sighing softly. Which was silly, right, because it was all just recycled oxygen? Maybe they used a different formula of air purifier than the Alliance did for the SR-1.

None of the tricks he had learned in the last two years were any help to him. 'Should see a shrink' had been floated numerous times but honestly? He could do his own sanity checks, thank you. He knew the problem for his insomnia and it was not going to get fixed by telling a stranger the woman he had come to love was dead. And... maybe... maybe he had a bit of a grudge against the whole profession after Brain Camp.

If the problem was gone, however, what prompted the sudden waking? Nothing was wrong that he could tell (especially after the Sentinel checked his omni-tool).

Exhaling, he got to his feet and just... wandered a little through the ship after quickly throwing on his BDUs. It was the graveyard shift so most of the crew was asleep. He wandered to the mess hall but paused when he caught sight of the very cause of his two years of insomnia. Things were... a little level now but there were still some awkward moments to get past. And he certainly was not about to give Kat the reason why he was used to these forays.

Instead he offered something of a smile before lowering into a seat at the large table off-set from the kitchen proper. He was not even hungry like a biotic of his caliber should be. It just seemed like the place to go in his wanderings.

"I won't ask the obvious question," he said, voice neutral. "But I will point out there's only room for one person with sleeping problems and I claimed that a long time ago."

[akuzeisms]

This blog has officially MOVED! Kat can now be found on my multi-muse, @serabellyms, along with the rest of my Mass Effect muses!

[kleinewahines]

What Color Is Your Soulmark? | Andreja

White

Also known as the kinder soulcolor, people with white soulmarks are seen as innocent, childlike, and pure. Most people before they enter adolescence will glow white when around a soulmate, but they will grow out of it in their teen years. It’s the rarest color to have as an adult.

Many people who glow white are treated like children, so they present themselves in an adult like way. They are structured, focus on maturity, and distance themselves from things that bring them joy. They are least likely to share their interests around people they don’t know and are afraid of being patronized.

This type is highly intelligent and appears to prefer being single than in a relationship. They are often alone, preferring not to bog themselves with unnecessary drama, and have no patience for those who criticize them or their work.

Despite their tough exterior, these people are gentle souls. They often express their interests to a select few they trust, and they spend their time theorizing about or analyzing things they enjoy. They are studios and curious, especially when it comes to what makes things work, and have a childlike wonder to them despite being so adamant to present as a mature individual.

Tagged by @torntruth

Tagging: @violeteyedkiller @stellevatum @poisonedpowder @serabellyms (Kat or player's choice)

[downs1de-has-moved]

@serabellyms

Kat says Rust is gonna have to fight her for the right to punch him in the face first—

"Nuh-huh, no cutting in line for either of you!"

"The wait time to deck me is currently over a week and a half."

[lanternlit]

The Collectors. Spending most of his time in the Terminus Systems, Ed knows better than to consider the Collectors a myth, like some Citadel Space people seem to believe. He’s never seen them, himself, but he’s met people who’ve claimed to have encountered their vessels. And, well, he’s certain of the Reapers’ existence, now. Two species, both regarded as myths by a lot of people, working together? He doesn’t have any idea what the Reapers might want, so the Collectors abducting human colonies doesn’t make it any more connected to him, but it seems plausible, either way.

He wrinkles his nose in distaste at the mention of slavers, but smiles, amused, at her telling him she can’t take a piss without it being considered classified. There’s definitely more to this woman than he usually thinks of these soldier-types.

Yet then, the amusement turns into a frown.    ❝ Cerberus? The terrorist organisation? ❞

OK, more surprises. Perhaps it’s not so strange how confidently she’s come to him, a pirate captain with a scary reputation, if she’s working for some sleazy, humanity-first terrorists. Yeah, OK, her objective sounds like something he agrees with, fuck anyone taking colonies of people of any species, fuck the Reapers, but...

❝ Not like you’re giving me much of a choice, ❞    he points out. He gathers his hair up into a messy bun as he sits up even straighter, no longer leaning back at all.    ❝ Sure. I’ll help you. Not ready for prison quite yet, and it sounds like it could be some good fun. But I don’t tango with what Cerberus stands for. I’ll fight for you, but don’t expect me to subscribe to that humans first bullcrap. ❞    He’s sure she knows his own crew isn’t all human itself. He has a handful of quarians on board, as well as a couple of turians, even a batarian cook.

@serabellyms

Balls might have been putting it mildly, but spine? Katrina had plenty of that in spades. His nonchalance would’ve been worrisome for anyone but her. She’d seen enough in life to not have to worry about one man.

“Don’t ask me. I didn’t give him the damn moniker,” she replied flatly. It was an annoying one, to say the least. Granted, the Illusive Man pissed her off every time he opened his damn mouth, but she wasn’t about to let on just how deeply she despised him. Keeping him at arm’s length was good enough. Edward was more trustworthy than him, and that was saying something. She was no stranger to people who worked on the shadier side of things, though; some of her closest allies had some very shady dealings…

She could tell he was curious, though she kept her gaze level and straightforward. “Sort of,” she admits, wrinkling her nose. “Details are a little more complicated than that, but you could say that. At least, we think it’s related to the Reapers. I’m sure you’ve heard the reports of human colonies disappearing. Newsflash: it’s not slavers. That I can confirm. The Collectors are behind it. And why the hell else would they kidnap entire colonies without a trace? At least slavers, you know what they’re up to.” Was she gauging him? Perhaps. Katrina had no love lost for slavers; she’d shoot them in cold blood without hesitation, most of the time.

“Besides, I’m a Council Spectre. Everything I do is some level of classified. I can’t take a piss without it being considered classified knowledge or a need-to-know basis.” A smirk twitched at the corners of her lips; it was partially true, after all. “But regardless. Cerberus is funding our mission.” Now that was what she needed to gauge. Did he agree with Cerberus, or was he reticent? Most would think she needed the former, but… it was the latter that was more likely to win her trust.

Now came the real question. “So… are you going to help, or should I just arrest you and call it a day? I’m not in the business of wasting my time.”

[lanternlit]

Lucius, simply, crosses his arms, leans against the wall behind him, raises an eyebrow, and  listens to Shepard.  Unfazed.

Funny thing, that, being unfazed in front of Commander Shepard, but.

But she’s his friend.

❝ You’re not fine, ❞    he replies, matter-of-fact.    ❝ This isn’t me trying to play your therapist, Kat, ❞    he uses her first name, nickname, deliberately,    ❝ I’m just trying to be in your corner. I can’t fix any of it. But I’m not gonna shut up and leave you alone, either, because...  You are not fine.  Do you think we can’t see that? ❞    We, as in, the people who personally care about her. Lucius is sure the galactic community watching, the ones who believe in Shepard, only see a competent hero (because that is what she is), and none of the toll all of this is taking on her. But her friends? Would have to be deliberately unperceptive to not notice.

❝ I’m just saying. ❞    His expression goes gentler as he gazes at her.    ❝ None of us are OK. How could anyone be? Honestly, it’d be more concerning to me if you were fine. I’m not saying I can fix it, but I’m telling you... You know we all believe in you, right? You not doing so well with the enormous stress that you’re under won’t change that. Just let... It doesn’t need to be me, but just let somebody be there for you. It’s a ship full of not-fine people who care about each other. We should all let ourselves be not-fine together, sometimes. ❞    He pauses, before adding, a little wry,    ❝ Doctor’s orders? ❞    He’s a medic, not a doctor; he’s just wanting to add a little bit of lightheartedness into his commentary, as not to make her feel too uncomfortable, although it may be a little late for that... He’s not wrong, though.

@serabellyms

@smokedanced asked:

“  you do realize you don’t have to do this alone right?  ” / from lucius

"It's not that simple." If there was a simple answer, then she'd have found it by now. She'd know what she could do; she'd know who she could lean on. Half the people she was dealing with were either her close friends, or people liable to piss her off because they wanted something. Do their dirtywork, and they'd get her support. They were all so... selfish. She didn't have control over what idiot politicians did; she was just one person who had to practically scream to get them to listen. Years, now, she'd spent telling them there was a threat, and even with the Reapers knocking on everyone's door, they refused to listen.

She shook her head. "Two years, it took them, to even listen to me--and it took the Reapers knocking on everyone's door. You say I can't do this alone? I have to. Yeah--that's not to say that the people on this ship aren't pulling their weight, but the rest? I do have to do it alone. Unfortunately, listening to me is a chore for politicians with sticks up their asses." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. She hadn't meant to go off on Lucius like that, but what was she to do? It felt like everyone just wanted to poke and prod at her lately.

"So unless you have a solution for the bureaucratic bullshit that's being thrown at me left, right, and center, I don't suspect any of your--therapeutic nonsense is going to help me at any turn. I'm fine." She wasn't, but she didn't need anyone else to know that. If she wasn't fine, then they were all screwed. If she didn't keep up appearances, how could she expect everyone else to keep their heads held high? If she felt like they were losing, how could she expect her crew to hold on to that hope?

[lanternlit]

If he’s being totally honest, Edward is mostly motivated by his own whims. Illium isn’t as complicated a place for him to show up as somewhere like the Citadel would be, but he’s still likely to get himself into trouble if he wanders off on his own: he has a reputation, and that reputation invites most law enforcement to try to take him in and ship his ass over to the Alliance, for a reward. That is not to say that he couldn’t be prosecuted by a handful of non-human Citadel species, as well. Shepard could get him out of that, sure, but he’s not so sure she’d be bothered, if he recklessly got arrested as a habit... Izzy, also, would probably kill him with his bare hands, or drop dead from the stress himself, poor bastard.

❝ I’m asking because I’m going stir-crazy, and you’re good company," Ed admits.    ❝ But that doesn’t change the fact that you look like you need to get pissed, yourself, so it’s a win-win? ❞

He has been out of his own head enough to notice something being wrong with her, ever since Horizon. From what he’s gathered from mostly overhearing the others (he hasn’t really managed to make friends, here, despite not behaving hostile at all), is that there seemed to have been a reunion of sorts, that had not gone as planned. Betrayal by someone who was supposed to be a friend, maybe? That would sting. He would know; he’s a motherfucking pirate, all his kind do all day long is backstabbing. He thinks of Jack.

It also does give him pause that Shepard seems to somehow be privy to how he can be uncomfortable when people, well... The thing about Blackbeard is that being feared is an honour. As Blackbeard, he wants to be feared. But when he’s just trying to be Edward, and people look at him, and all they see is Blackbeard, anyway, he feels like he’s being drowned by his own alter ego. Strangers, though, that’s not going to bother him. It’s when he’s trying to be friendly, and people look at him like he’s a monster (he probably deserves that; he knows he’s a bad person)... and Shepard never once has looked at him like that. Sure, of course she disapproves of what he does for a living. But she’s never been scared of him, and that’s... refreshing. But that she sees through him like that? Makes him frown, slightly.

❝ Eh, let people need a change of pants because of the two of us, ❞    he says, trying to shed away his discomfort at being perceived (maybe he desperately wants to be perceived but that’s something to unpack another time),    ❝ at least we won’t get stuck in a crowd. Maybe we can cut in line, to some fancy club, or something? ❞    He so much wants to see it; the splendor of someplace luxurious.

@serabellyms

@smokedanced asked:

“  i’m not gonna ask if ‘you’re okay’ cause that’s fuckin’ annoying.  you wanna get the hell out of here and do something?  ” / from ed

She wasn't sure how long she'd been staring out the window in one of the observation deck. Hell, she was surprised it took that long for anyone to come find her; she'd been staring out idly, entirely unfocused on whatever was going on around her. Kaidan's harsh words rang over and over in her head, leaving her distracted, mulling them over as if that would change what he'd said... and how she felt about them.

Do you really believe that? Or is that what Cerberus wants you to think? You turned your back on everything we believed in. You turned your back on the Alliance. You turned your back on me.

She didn't feel like she was being controlled by them; she didn't answer to them, and the Illusive Man didn't get in her way. Miranda and Jacob--and the rest of the crew--didn't, either. Joker could be trusted; he was loyal to her, not necessarily Cerberus; he just went where he could be where he wanted to: piloting a ship. Garrus and Tali didn't question her, either. Even Ashley hadn't. And she hadn't abandoned her friends on purpose; she'd died... hadn't she?

Maybe you're the one who's not thinking straight.

That couldn't be true. It couldn't be. Could it? She had all of her old memories... she remembered dying. She remember Mindoir, she remembered Akuze... she remembered a lot of things. Quiet nights on the old Normandy, talking with her friends in the mess... Even memories that no one but she and her brother would remember.

It'll be just like old times. No, it won't.

Ed's voice snapped her out of those thoughts, head turning as she saw him. Her expression turned from deep thought, to... confused. Had she been that out of it? Earlier she'd locked herself in her cabin, refusing to talk to anyone or let them in. (That was, of course, until her brother had threatened to break the door with his biotics. Try as she might, she couldn't keep him out of things.)

"...Are you asking because you think I need it, or because you just want company that's not going to shit their pants at the sight of you?" She'd noticed that, about Ed; some people feared him, and that caused the faintest flicker of discomfort in him once in a while. Kat hadn't ever shown him that fear; she'd seen far scarier things than one human. "Because you do realize, if we go ashore, that's going to happen. If they're not afraid of you, a Council Spectre will probably make them give us a berth. Or I'll get swarmed by fans. Depends on the day." Illium was like that, after all.

[kleinewahines]

"Relax, Shepard, it's not a question on the final exam," he teased mildly as she stared at him as if he had ambled up and asked what the meaning of life was. Annoyingly, he was bending about as far as he could bend in the damn dress blues and the temperature in the bar was bordering on scorching. The turians clearly didn't notice (at least not the turian bartender). And everyone else seemed too preoccupied to really care about the temperature so long as they could get more drinks.

Or maybe the choice in fabric for the uniform was to blame? Honestly, at this point, he had only worn them about four times to begin with (and we are definitely including the wake slash funeral of a certain Commander). So he really couldn't tell you what the problem was. He ran hot as a matter of biotic cause so maybe the uniform was just sending that heat right back at him? Not the point, definitely.

He tapped the ring and pinkie fingers of his left hand against the bottle in his hand before taking a sip. As if alcohol was actually going to help his feeling of overheating.

In all honesty, his remark (and accompanying smile) more popped out thanks to tiredness than anything else. He'd gotten way too good at appearing upbeat even when he was exhausted. Or, you know, dealing with crippling migraines that made a guy want to curl up into a ball and beg to be vaporized. It was so much easier to dodge things when people didn't think you were dodging because of a physical problem. Because then the needling started and the questions. And you have to sit there internally arguing with yourself about faking an actual emergency so you could get out of there. ...He... hadn't slept at all on the Normandy SR-2. But there had been a teensy bit of genuine flirting to it. Teensy bit.

Almost took another sip but then Kat was indirectly referencing Harkin and Kaidan grimaced a little. There was only one person he had actually liked meeting at all in that club, and she had gotten out of the job rather quickly, thankfully. (Both... jobs? It depended on how you wanted to look at it.)

"Just as long as you're staying away from anything green, I guess," he said with a shrug (he was so holding onto that 'bit'). Before pinning her with an expectant look of 'am I going to stand here like a waiter all day or--?'

"In my defense, Shepard, I definitely stick out more. I'm all dressed up and nowhere to go," he pointed out, more meaning an actual function requiring such fancy dress. "You're lucky I'm not wearing the hat." And that was only because by all technicality most of the Citadel was considered 'indoors' though some of the older officers still wore them especially near the Tower. "I would've had to pass this place to get to my apartment to change. That's way more walking than I want to do today." Even taking the shuttle it had involved walking. Sometimes a man simply did not want to do too much walking.

Now that he had had a chance at being 'cranky old man Kaidan', and she gave 'the nod', he gratefully slipped into the opposite seat and placed his beer down on the table. He then wiped the condensation clinging to his hand off on an extra napkin he had grabbed. Even if it did actually feel kinda nice compared to the fact the uniform was too warm in here.

Taking a sip of his drink, he leaned back because it felt better than trying to lean forward (again). Maybe he really should have just schlepped it back to his apartment and changed... Oh, well. Too late now, wasn't it? And to make matters worse: The rank insignia was even more obnoxious on the dress blues.

He gave a slow exhale at the question then shrugged. "Anderson... is Anderson. So far ahead you wonder how he can still see you." Or not predict or give warning about things like the Collectors, or the Reapers. Although he believed in Shepard, of course, he believed Anderson could have gotten the job done just as well. He knew the political background for why Anderson would hand everything off to Shepard, though. After all, Shepard already had her name down for Spectre. Anderson, as they had learned, had whiffled it.

"He, uh. Does think that I should stay on the SR-2 full time, though," he said a little more quietly. It was hard calling it the Normandy. The Normandy was in ruins on Alchera. What Cerberus had built was not the Normandy that he had worked hard on keeping in prime shape. Had watched aboard as Shepard grew into a legend. Picked Shepard up off of the floor on when they and the ship had been grounded like naughty teenagers. Where he had seen Virmire explode.

He still didn't like the idea of being on the SR-2. Of working for Cerberus. He was Alliance, first and foremost. But, he more or less had his orders. It had taken so long to finish the report because of the debate. The real question of course was how much autonomy did Shepard really have where hiring practices were concerned? Out of anyone that might send the Illusive Man scrambling for excuses not to allow on the warship he had paid out the nose to build and then attached an AI to it, it would be Kaidan Alenko, Commander of the Alliance. It was easy when the Illusive Man could just dismiss the idea because Kaidan was 'off the radar' doing classified things. But now that he wasn't?

Kaidan’s initial response to her when they’d met had stung. She’d hoped for… well, relief; meeting Tali she’d been met with surprise, but happiness, and Garrus too had been relieved and happy to know she was alive. Meeting Kaidan had been worse than a harsh dose of reality. Where they’d been close before, she’d been met with cold, almost callous distrust; hell, Jack had almost been friendlier than he was. Perhaps it was the emotion behind it, behind the nature of their friendship, of their bond, in comparison to the rest of her old friends.

She hoped he was just an outlier. She wasn’t sure she could handle much more of it.

Her eyes caught the smile he offered her, but she didn’t quite have the heart to return it. Her only response was a nod and a small hum, though she stayed seated as he left to give his report, only getting up to head to the lounge after she was certain he’d left. It gave her time to think, to process, to gather the fortitude to move through the Citadel and hope that nobody recognized her.

She sat alone in the booth, elbow resting on the table as her cheek rested on her hand, the other idly rubbing the side of the drink she’d barely touched. She’d picked the most private table, but also the most defensible one; her back was to a corner, and she could see the entire room with a single glance. Not an uncommon habit for someone who’d seen the things she’d seen; that, and with how much she stood out most of the time, it would give her a good heads-up for anyone coming her way. Idly, she wondered if Kaidan was even going to come; he hadn’t indicated he would, and things were still tense between them, far more than she liked.

But she didn’t know what else to say to him. She didn’t know what she could tell him to help him understand; truthfully, were the Alliance ready to do something to help the colonies with her in charge, she’d have jumped at the chance. Hell, she’d have happily stolen the Normandy SR-2 back in the process. Unfortunately, the Alliance didn’t seem to care about the situation as much as she’d hoped, seeing fit to brush it off as pirate or slaver attacks.

Then, there was the fact that even she knew she wasn’t being entirely truthful with Kaidan about everything. He’d asked if she’d been in a coma; her response had been vague, even if she knew the truth deep down. “Something like that,” she’d said, not wanting to breach the real truth with anyone, not even herself, just yet. She’d spoken to Miranda afterward with the insistence that Miranda not say anything about the Lazarus Project in regards to her recreation, to which Miranda had begrudgingly agreed; she had, however, told Miranda that she was free to state that Kat herself had asked her not to speak on it, as there were personal details involved.

It wasn’t because she was keeping secrets. It was because she was struggling with the knowledge herself, struggling to believe it was the truth, because it was ridiculous to think that Cerberus had managed the impossible: bringing someone back from the dead. The brink of death, sure; that wouldn’t have been out of the realm of possibility. And yet, the fact that she could remember everything—that she could remember the sensations, the experience, all of it—made her want to believe it, no matter how ridiculous it was.

Whatever the case--it wasn't an experience she wanted to repeat any time soon.

The longer she waited, the more she was convinced he wasn't going to come; it was at the moment when she was lost in thought that his words caught her attention, gaze snapping up as it took her a second to process exactly what he'd said. She made a sound of mild confusion as her brain finally caught up to what was being said, catching the smile while her face remained a mask of total confusion.

"Uh--" She couldn't formulate a response; she had too many questions. Was he in a better mood? Better yet--was he flirting with her? Openly, too; more openly than he used to, at least. "As often as I can, until greasy C-Sec rejects flirt with me and I contemplate violence," she replied dryly; as always humour and dry sarcasm were a cover for her being incapable of formulating a normal response to his comment. Of course, she knew he'd know exactly who she was referring to; Harkin had rather aggressively flirted with her when they first talked to him. At the thought of that moment, she visibly shuddered. She'd felt like she needed a shower after talking to him.

Glancing up and down Kaidan's outfit, she was surprised to see him in his dress blues; she'd have thought he would have chosen something more casual for a bar like this. “Way to make me feel under-dressed,” she grumbled, narrowing her eyes at him in mild (but playful) annoyance. “I stick out like a sore thumb all by myself, I didn’t need any help on that front.” Sarcasm and jokes were a comfortable shield for her; she wasn’t at all against him joining her, but she wouldn’t be Kat if she didn’t gripe about attracting attention. She’d never liked the attention; the attention just found her, and she had to roll with the punches. Her dry humour, at least, was a start; it was a flicker of her old self, even if it was a defense mechanism to mask what was really going through her head.

Idly stirring her drink, she jerked her chin at the seat across from her, eyes scanning as she silently prayed nobody was going to bother them. “So? Anderson admit he ratted me out to you, or is he still feigning innocence?” Her tone of voice made it clear she was fairly certain Anderson had put Kaidan where he had entirely on purpose. And Anderson knew she’d have picked up on it, too.

[kleinewahines]

None of this felt right. This was not how he imagined their reunion to go. Antagonistic. Cold. Asocial. Too many unknowns... Too much worrying this was not in fact the real Shepard so it was far easier to keep some of himself closed off than to dive in and slam his face into the pavement when it turned out he'd been talking to some kind of clone or simply a Shepard that wasn't the one he remembered.

"Keeping you honest, Shepard, is what I've always been here for," he said then, a glint of something in his eye that so far had stayed emotionless even when his temper had been stoked. And though the wording could have been snotty, there was a bit of the old Kaidan there in his voice -- soft, gentle. He had been the Second Officer on the SR-1 for a reason (Logged: The Commanding Officer is ashore. XO Pressly has the deck). Anderson had trusted Kaidan to always steer Shepard in the correct direction. Watch her, Alenko. Keep her aimed towards Polaris.

He eyed her silently, the smallest hint of pain in his eyes and the set of his mouth. There were too many unknowns and he simply did not like not having more blanks filled in. If it had been him... but it wasn't. (And there was guilt, so much fucking guilt! He survived. Why did he survive? Why was he special? Why did he deserve to live but Shepard didn't?) It wasn't and he couldn't say how he would be coming out of a coma two years later to a galaxy both drastically different and distressingly the same.

Sure, the SR-1 crew had been sounding the alarm in the two years that Shepard was being put back together. But Kaidan was exposed to constant radio silence on the Reaper threat in that time as well. And it drove him nuts. And so he was cautious, jaded, and oh so very tired like a man twice his age.

His thoughts wandered to the fact that when he went to report in, he would be passing the apartment block of a woman he had been seeing off and on for a while. After giving up hope that Shepard could possibly be alive somewhere. No body, no death, right? Two years was a long time to be alone. Kaidan didn't do well with alone. And maybe he should mention her. But he would not. Not here. He had wounded Shepard enough as it was. Wounded himself enough. Martyring himself, just like on Virmire.

There would be a reckoning at some point. But today was not the day for it. Biotics flickered around him again, a hint of the turmoil he was feeling in every fiber of his being. The blue glow traced his arms and torso before dying away like wisps of smoke. The only way for Kaidan to figure out the conundrum that was Shepard standing there, alive, was to look at everything from a detached distance. He had to be someone he wasn't in order to protect his own heart and brain. Two. Years.

Clearing his throat, he rose to his full six foot something height (he was taller on the ship than he was on the Citadel thanks to the changes in artificial gravity strength meaning his spine was either compressed or allowed to spread which accounted for his height). He finally took a small sip of the water from the bottle he had used more as a stimming tool than anything.

"I feel like most of it Anderson already knows. He clearly sent me in your path," he admitted, using his biotics to spin the bottle in his hands far faster than he physically could have done it. His lack of asking her to go with him wasn't done as a slight. He just didn't think Shepard could get away with it right now. And she seemed to have other plans, regardless.

A pause then he offered his first wide smile. "I'd stay away from anything green," he said. And maybe that was the first sign that Kaidan was beginning to adjust to this new normal of having Commander Shepard back so he could continue to play 'does she, doesn't she'.

Being a Commander now afforded him the privilege of having his own little apartment rather than sleeping in the barracks on the Citadel. It was very Spartan, but he didn't spend much time on the Citadel these days, anyway. But it was where he kept his dress blues.

As he predicted, Anderson wasn't too surprised by the 'news' of Commander Shepard not being dead after all. He did, however, express concern about the existence of the Normandy SR-2. It hadn't been in Kaidan's purview to get any kind of intel on the ship itself beyond what he had seen and noticed just wandering through the third deck and the second. He didn't have much on EDI, or how they had made a bigger version of the Normandy somehow work at all. And even kept some of the original Normandy's Turian designs. He hadn't been there as a spy. He had been a guest slash prisoner. When Anderson asked how the Commander 'seemed', Kaidan could only shrug and try to explain Shepard's reasoning for working with Cerberus at all (just because he didn't quite agree with the logic, didn't mean he didn't understand it).

By the end of it, he was exhausted. Like he had been put through the ringer. But, hey, on the other hand he definitely could use a beer.

He was too exhausted, in fact, to change out of the dress blues. So instead, just like when he had graduated from the Academy, he wandered into the bar wearing the fanciest clothes he owned. No cover, and no cover. No worries.

The L2 biotic was more often found to be drinking in privacy than in a bar, but. Luckily the beer he wanted was available, just not on tap. That was fine; sometimes it was more preferable to be in a bottle instead (but never a can because it made it taste weird; Kaidan tasted enough weirdness as it was as a biotic and also he had shocked himself numerous times with canned beverages and liked to avoid that).

His eyes a few shades of brown darker than the beer in his hand grazed over the crowds of people. It was only when a krogan clearly loaded with ryncol moved a little off to his left did Kaidan catch sight of Kat. He flowed through the crowd, dodging everyone while keeping a thumb over the top of the bottle of beer to prevent spilling.

Kaidan cocked his head to the side then leaned in.

"C'mere often?" he asked, mouth quirking into an easy smile.

Kat was having more difficulty than she expected reading her old friend. He felt… cold, in a way, compared to before. It hurt to think about; had her death really taken that much of a toll on him? She’d always understood him to be a warm and inviting presence, and she’d admired that about him; it was a part of him that made even her, closed off as she was, feel comfortable and safe, in a sense. Now he seemed cold, almost callous in a way, and that struck a chord in her.

Another person who’d changed as a result of her death—who’d changed because she’d left.

Kaidan may not have thought that BAaT and the Alliance were the same as Cerberus and their crimes, but Kat knew full well there was an element of truth to her choice of words. It held the same principles, and that was the point: things weren’t always black-and-white, and sometimes, the shades of grey were the real things a person had to learn to distinguish. Katrina only saw the world in shades of grey; it was one of the reasons she was as good at doing what she did. Her only response to his statement was a brief raise of her eyebrows, a silent ‘sure, pretend I’m wrong’ that she didn’t dare voice in case it made the situation worse.

But at the mention of secrets and his admission that a few of them had mysteriously malfunctioned, she almost laughed. Almost. The old Kat would’ve had a quip or two to make about it; probably some sarcastic comment about how worried she was about it (when in reality, she wasn’t). But instead… she was quiet, almost nervous, a hint of uncertainty in her tone as to whether it was appropriate for her to joke or not.

Regardless, it was exactly what she’d expected, and it was the reason she hadn’t wanted to have a conversation with him on the ship; she’d kept things strictly business on board for that reason, and she intended to do just that. But she listened, hearing him out; he had experience in the colonies, and she’d grown up in the colonies. That was experience that, when combined, was deeply useful in the situation they were in. But he wasn’t wrong about disagreement; that was something she had to consider. She was certain that if she disagreed with him on anything, it would be for a good reason, but she had to take into account the Cerberus crew members. The less tension between anyone, the better. At least she knew, for the time being, that she was the one in charge.

But then… her name. That alone caught her attention; she’d been referred to as Shepard for so long, it almost felt like the personal name she had was forgotten. She was Katrina—preferably Kat—Shepard, not just Shepard. At the mention of splashing her with water, though… there was a hint of a smile there, one that ghosted across her features, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. She took a breath as if to say something, but thought better of it. What she’d been about to say was that she hoped he’d shoot her if Cerberus really was screwing with her, but that wasn’t a topic she wanted to breach right now. He didn’t need to know she was asking the same questions about herself, about her own existence, that he’d been asking her. He needed to see her conviction, her determination—not her fractured emotional state. Nevertheless, subtle signs slipped through; the faint tremble in one of her hands, the way her thumb rubbed the inside of her wrist, like she was trying to calm herself, the way her breaths were controlled and even—too controlled and even to be natural.

“I trust your experience and knowledge. I trust your insight into situations. I’m not going to listen to everything, because even you can be wrong—but if I’m not going to listen, I know it’s going to be for the right reasons. I ignored both you and Ash on Virmire, and I don’t think any of us regret that.” A necessary one, and she understood his decision, but she’d be lying if it hadn’t resulted in the situation being more difficult than it needed to be. But despite the statement he’d made… she wasn’t sure she could agree to that, not when she didn’t believe it herself. She couldn't agree that he shouldn't consider her a lost cause if things seemed too off. But she also was sure he needed to hear that she believed it--that she believed she was the same person from two years ago.

Her feelings on it didn't matter.

“I trust that if I’m making a decision that’s not in the best interest of the greater good… you’ll tell me,” she finally said after too long of a pause. Checking the time on her omni-tool, she glanced over at him. “You’d, uh… better not keep Anderson waiting. In the meantime… I need a damned drink.” She paused, hesitant to offer; her thumb rubbed the inside of her wrist over her pulse, a nervous gesture. “Probably at the Dark Star Lounge.” She couldn’t quite find the courage to ask him directly to join her, but hopefully, he’d at least want to have a more casual and less tense conversation with her, if nothing else. Something relaxed. Something friendly.

[kleinewahines]

Brown eyes, usually so expressive, were dull, closed off. His internal thoughts were unreadable. Maybe even to himself. He swallowed hard enough it made his Adam's apple jump. In his mind, Akuze had been Kaidan making a point: Cerberus destroyed one colony and now that is all in the rear view because they are scrambling to 'defend' others? It didn't sound right. It sounded like more of the damn same of Cerberus doubletalk and illegal Alliance black ops denied for years after the fact.

Kaidan was then frowning hard enough it made his forehead wrinkle and his eyes narrow. As if trying to detect something off in Shepard's speech or mannerisms. A clue that this was not the real Shepard. And, hell, bringing up Akuze had somewhat been a test, if a little underhanded. A need to see some kind of anger over what happened thanks to Cerberus. He should apologize but at the moment he wasn't sorry. He had used it as a Security Question, not specifically to hurt Kat or to be spiteful. He would likely apologize later, though.

"BAaT is not the same situation, Shepard," he said, certain inflections creeping in to show his frustration; it was clear he wasn't wanting an argument. But his voice didn't get a single bit louder. His hand did pass over the port in the base of his skull, however. The port he had cleaned -- alone -- for the past two years, rather than standing side by side with Shepard in the medical bay so Chakwas could be sure they were both keeping up on their hygiene regimen while chasing Saren all over the Milky Way.

He remembered his father's words, about how he had done what he thought was the right thing when it came to Vyrnus and so he can't exactly blame himself. But... But... But. Wrong thing? Right reasons? Perhaps that was the real comparison. He had never taken a life before BAaT. Had done rather well not to take more in his career in the Alliance. Fighting on the SR-1 had definitely ruined his streak, however. BAaT was... it was a lot of things. But one thing he could be sure about was there had not been any actual illegal testing done (just a lot of pressure on teenagers and brutal training that caused a couple deaths). It was shady stuff, but nothing that Kaidan could say to disavow someone's notions of joining the Alliance. Especially his own. Vyrnus had been a mistake that was rectified. And now, they had the Ascension Project, the spiritual successor to Brain Camp.

He opened his bottle of water, considered a moment, then closed it again without taking so much as a sip. The water in the Presidium fountains nearby reminded him of Virmire. His mouth was dry but he knew his water wasn't going to make it any better.

Or maybe I should be asking if I'm giving up my career on the word of someone I'm not even sure is the real deal, he thought but didn't say. Getting emotional and personal was not going to help, Akuze mention notwithstanding. But... it was personal. It was emotional.

Kaidan Alenko was no trained HUMINT interrogator. All he had was years of dealing with all kinds of people and situations. He was perhaps a little out of his depth when it came to galaxy changing things like Collectors and Reapers. Ash had once commented that she was just a simple sharpshooter. Just show her what to shoot and she will shoot. No further questions necessary. But Kaidan didn't operate that way. He had had over three decades to figure himself out and he was a man who needed to find three separate ways to bug out of a bad situation and he needed all the intel possible before he made a move.

His biotics sparked around his hand as he pressed the heel of his palm into the bench under him. A not too literal grounding action. His face throbbed a little as if to remind him of how he got there at all.

Garrus... Joker... they had both joined up. Chakwas, too. Though he suspected perhaps that was more out of her concern for the pilot than actually trusting Cerberus as far as they could be thrown. Garrus, though? Hmm. Jury was still out on that. (Joker was kinda easy. They let him fly again. That was all Joker had needed to be on board. Kaidan wasn't sure he could blame the pilot on that one; if he had been in the same exact situation he probably would have made the same decision. Although, perhaps there was a debt thing, too? Did Joker know about Project Lazarus when he signed up? Kaidan wasn't certain and hadn't asked.)

"One thing I do know, nothing can stay secret on that ship of yours. The... guest accommodations are down a couple of bugs," he said quietly, gaze flicking to Katrina's face for a moment then away. A couple 'accidental' biotic discharges had given him some small measure of privacy, though. The ones he could find, anyway.

"If I leave the Alliance, I lose my security clearance. Not that it would matter because tunneling into Alliance databases from the SR-2 would be foolhardy. But, I'm a Commander now. It's hard to come back from 'fraternized with Cerberus' when it comes to renewing your Clearance."

He paused, head tilting. The artificial breeze in that part of the Citadel ruffled his hair, still kept in that forever neat and tidy pompadour style accented by the natural curls that belied his mixed Human ancestry.

"The first time I disagree with a Cerberus sanctioned mission, what then? I get kicked off for sowing seeds of doubt in Commander Shepard? If I'm going to do anything, I need to know there will still be round table discussions like in the old days," he said, jaw clenching for a moment. All those ad hoc meetings, sometimes directly after Shepard had been talking to the Council (futilely, as it would often turn out). "I have experience with dealing with the colonies we have out there nowadays. I'd have to be trusted that I know what I'm talking about."

The days of 'go here, here, and here' for Kaidan had been gone before the SR-1.

"I care about the colonies just as I cared about defeating Sovereign and taking down Saren," he said with total conviction, with an unsaid 'don't make it seem like I'm indifferent to the crisis'. "But we are no good to anyone if we get stuck in the Cerberus spider web. You say you need me around because I distrust Cerberus," his free hand rose a little, as if considering taking her hand in his but then deciding against it and simply letting it drop on his lap. He doubted Shepard would appreciate the contact at that current moment of not-quite-a-fight. "So what I need to know from you, Katrina Shepard--" He had never, not once, said her full name like that before, emphasizing how firm and serious he was, "-- is that if they are using you for some awful, grand experiment, I only need to splash you with cold water, not consider you a lost cause." He understood there was an almost joke given the water bottle but... He absolutely needed her to say those words. Maybe not in that exact order, but certainly close enough. Claiming distrust of Cerberus wasn't enough. Reading between the lines: I can't lose you. Not again. Not if you're the bona fide Shepard. If Cerberus has done something to you -- or plans to, I need to know I can bring you out of it and you need to know I will try everything to do it.

She knew he had to report back to Anderson, but she wanted to make sure they talked first. Anderson knew what was going on; he knew why she was doing what she was doing, and he knew her motivations for it. Kat also knew that he'd put Kaidan in her path on purpose; Anderson was nothing if not clever, and she'd have to give him shit herself for it later. Typical meddling parent actions, she thought to herself; after all, Anderson was like a father to her. He knew she wasn't doing as well as she pretended, and he also knew that she and Alenko had grown close.

But then, that word was uttered.

Akuze.

Hew jaw tightened at the mention. If that wasn’t a low blow, Kat didn’t know what was. Akuze had always been a sore spot for her, an immediate trigger point that was often capable of setting her off, despite her usual level-headed nature. Keep your cool, she reminded herself. She couldn’t help the unconscious reaction, rubbing her shoulder as the memory of her old scars flashed in front of her eyes briefly. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, doing her best to try and read him. He was being careful, meticulous, like he’d been when they first met. But that didn't change the fact that he'd had the audacity to mention Akuze to her in relation to Cerberus.

"And BAaT was supported by the Alliance, Alenko, yet you still enlisted." There was bite to her tone, and it was entirely intentional; even if he’d spoken gently, Akuze was—and always had been—a sore spot for Katrina. Very few people had ever been allowed to see the extent of the damage that was done to her; Anderson had been one of them, and since their conversation before Ilos, Kaidan had as well. It was something she'd trusted him with... and something she didn't trust anyone with easily.

But she knew she had a point: that sometimes, letting bygones be bygones, even if only temporarily, was a necessity for the greater good.

"The reason I'm asking is because you're right: I don't know that they'll let me sneak away when all's said and done, and if you think for a second I trust them, then you've forgotten who I am. Nothing about this situation is black-and-white, Alenko, and it never has been. Sometimes it's about doing the wrong thing for the right reasons, like stealing an Alliance warship, ignoring orders from the Council and the Alliance brass, and going to Ilos." Doing that had been treason; if they hadn't, Sovereign would have brought the Reapers to their front door, and their efforts would have been all for naught.

"I don't trust Cerberus, I never will fully trust Cerberus, nor do I forgive them for the things they've done, but that doesn't change the fact that they're doing something about the colonies that the Collectors are taking while the Alliance isn't. That doesn't change the fact that they've given me a ship, a crew, and resources to ensure our colonies are safe. And in the end, it would surprise no one if we found out the Collectors are working with the Reapers, and are targeting humanity because a human was responsible for Sovereign's downfall." Sure, they'd yet to confirm that the Collectors were indeed working with the Reapers, but it wouldn't have been too far-fetched to consider.

"So I'm asking you because you also don't trust Cerberus, and having people who I know will have my back if Cerberus tries to pull a fast one on me is something I need if we're going to accomplish this... and that's hard when half the galaxy doesn't believe the reality of what's happening." She hated the fact that the Alliance and Council were ignoring what was happening; entire colonies didn't just disappear. In most cases, there were survivors, there were bodies, there was something. She knew that; her survival on Mindoir made that clear.

"You were there, you saw Sovereign, you know the Reapers are real, and they're coming. The Council refuses to believe it, and the Alliance refuses to believe it. If working alongside Cerberus is the only way to save lives, then it's what I have to do. So don't ask yourself whether you should be risking your commission to work with Cerberus. Ask yourself whether it's worth risking it to save people." If it wasn't worth it, then it wasn't worth it; she couldn't fault him for not wanting to risk his career. But after mentioning Akuze the way he had... she couldn't say she trusted him; not when it came to the more personal aspects of everything that was happening. That was all well and fine; much of it was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

But she'd be lying if she said it didn't hurt... and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't at least hoping for a friend to lean on.

[kleinewahines]

It was clear he was still stewing quite a bit. But then, Kaidan was not normally one to have an explosive temper. He didn't like to raise his voice, or make threatening moves. Not since BaAT, anyway. He had worked hard on his temper to be the more softspoken Lieutenant he was known to be. The current Staff Commander (he still wasn't used to being Commander Alenko). The future Major. Future leader of an entire commando unit of biotics. That was what he was meant for, wasn't it? What he had trained for? Certainly not to be surrounded by the gold and black of Cerberus. He was Alliance, through and through.

Kaidan still remembered finding Admiral Kahoku in that Cerberus base, after the whole SR-1 crew had hoped to inform him of the 'good' news and then move on from the whole damn thing. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right. Everything in Kaidan had exploded outward then, too. How many other units had fallen victim to Cerberus? 'Saviors of humanity' but all Kaidan had ever seen them do was kill other humans. After experimenting on them brutally. So seeing Cerberus colors, hearing the party lines from the two biotic loyalists, had tweaked the tall man. To say nothing of worrying about cultish brainwashing of the formerly comatose Commander.

"I still have to make my report to Anderson," he said stiffly, fingers idly spinning the bottle of water in his hands. He wasn't sure how he was going to fully explain everything to the man who had risked so much for the SR-1 crew. Shepard's crew. How long had Anderson been aware of the fact Shepard was not actually dead (Kaidan had been hearing some rumors for a while but...)? Was he aware of it when Kaidan was sent to that outpost? Keeping an eye on the 'sky' for the Normandy SR-2?

But he walked to the bench anyway, because that's what you do when you're invited to sit down. He was in his Marine fatigues, new standard issue compared to the ones he had worn on the SR-1, the Commander bars gleaming brightly on his collar as if to remind everyone he was now the same rank Shepard was -- had been. He would have to change into his dress blues before he made his official report, of course.

His first instinct for a long time during the trip had been to be petty about things. Hell, he still felt that pull. It wasn't who he was, though. Everyone knew that, especially Kaidan himself. Staying true to himself was important, especially when there were doubts about Shepard.

"Why should I essentially give up my commission to work with the orchestrators of what happened to Kahoku and his men? To the colony on Akuze?" he asked, careful to keep his words gently rounded and blunt, not sharp. "Can you even be sure they'll let you go after all is said and done? Having the Savior of the Citadel is an attractive thing to have."

And maybe there was some not so subtle wordplay to what he was saying. Are you even the Savior I remember from two years ago?

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “Your reaction was… understandable.” After all, Miranda and Jacob were emblazoned in Cerberus colours; as far as anyone in the Alliance was concerned, Cerberus was the enemy. Sure, Kat could’ve tried to stop Kaidan with her biotics, but she’d chosen the least violent route possible: a swift left hook that would both break his concentration and draw his attention to her. Crude, but effective. A black eye was the least of their worries; a few days and a touch of medi-gel and he’d be fine, save for the blow to his ego.

Besides, with that colony being attacked, there wasn’t much choice in terms of safety. The first test-run of Mordin’s countermeasure hadn’t been fully effective; it was only enough for them to hope someone was alive. At least they knew biotics had some effectiveness; it was biotic capability that had kept the swarms from taking him with the rest of the colony.

“You’re not wrong, though; that… wasn’t how I’d hoped to reach out to you. To anyone, really.” Hell, she’d struggled with talking to her old friends already; she was just lucky Garrus hadn’t asked any questions, and Joker was too in-the-know to care about asking questions. At least Kaidan, despite his reluctance to be on a Cerberus ship, had agreed to let them take him to the Citadel without issue. It was neutral ground; them being seen together on the Citadel wouldn’t raise too many questions, not with her reinstated status as a Spectre.

Pursing her lips, she tapped the cap of the bottle idly, a subtle gesture indicative of her nervousness. “You, uh… probably have a lot of questions, I’m guessing. Questions you probably weren’t so keen to ask on a Cerberus ship.” Another thing she couldn’t blame him for. “Can’t, uh… promise I’ll have all the answers, because even I don’t know every damned thing, but… I can probably give you a few.” Hopefully more than a few, but she wasn’t holding her breath. She still hadn’t got all of the answers she was looking for from Cerberus. Eyeing one of the benches secluded further down the Presidium, she idly gestured to it, leading the way before taking a seat.

“All yours,” she offered.

[kleinewahines]

Kaidan frowned a little as his small joke fell a little flat. Yeah... it probably wasn't time yet for little jokes. Lights reflected off his hair that had in fact been shot with gray in some places. Not because he was getting older but because of the stress. A lot of fucking stress for a man in his thirties.

Chocolate brown eyes glanced at the proferred food. But, honestly, he wasn't hungry. (He should be, though. As a biotic he really should be.) What he wanted was to go back to sleep, damnit. He shouldn't be awake. Who knew what tomorrow might bring. So he simply shook his head and held up a hand to decline.

His first instinct was to be sarcastic which highlighted how tired he really was. He was not a sarcastic man. Ashley was the more sarcastic one of the 'Virmire Survivors'. He would leave that stuff up to her.

"Usually I sleep through them back home now. Chakwas was... she helped me actually be slightly useful during them, yeah," he admitted. But he hadn't had Chakwas around for two years (at least he had her again now). When his migraines came calling he literally hid under his bed from them. Not that he slept in his bed much really anyway, preferring the floor because it reminded him of the shitty beds on the Normandy. Which that was another difference, the SR-2 wasn't luxurious but the mattresses weren't crap. He wished he could say that was why he woke up.

Finding a quiet place on the Normandy SR-1 had been difficult. Usually it ended up being in a corner of the shuttle bay, when Ash wasn't at her workbench. Kaidan could remember sometimes lying underneath the Mako, looking like he was working on it but really he had been almost napping. On the SR-2 he was finding it even more difficult to find a good place. The AI alcove made him nervous. The shuttle bay was bright as the sun. Sometimes he hid in the corner behind the bar. No one could see him there and notice he was suffering.

He watched her quietly. The distance between the pair being far more metaphorical than anything. So close yet so far. He hadn't quite understood that idiom until now.

Exhaling as he lifted himself from his seat, he wandered closer to Shepard. His dogtags were nestled inside his shirt, he hadn't gotten new silencers for them since they broke a couple months previous and the jangling drove him crazy so he used his shirt to stop most of it. He was still entitled to his dogtags even if he had a leave of absence from the Alliance while he gallivanted around on a Cerberus vessel.

He wanted to tell her so many things but...

His head tilted and he leaned in. He almost made another joke but really, so not the time. He knew something was bugging her and it wasn't going to be made better with an Alenko jape. All work and no play...

"You have that same look on your face that you did after finding out about the Akuze memorial," he said, voice low. Not quite a whisper but not conversational volume either. He knew using the A word was a gamble. She could either shut down completely or tear his head off for the reminder. He hoped for a middle ground.

He almost reached for her hand but he didn't feel like they were on that level again yet.

"Whatever it is, Kat, I'm with you."

Kat was no stranger to sleepless nights. Ever since the events on Mindoir, she’d grown used to them; Akuze had only made things worse. And now, with Alchera and what she remembered of it, they were beginning to feel like the norm for her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a full night’s sleep; often it was a short nap here and there, barely closing her eyes for a recharge, or a few hours brought on by sheer exhaustion where she sat slumped over the desk in her cabin. Stims were the only thing keeping her from losing her head in the field, and she was thankful for them.

Tonight was no exception, having everything to do with the email she’d received. It was a request; one to find the missing dog tags of her fallen comrades at the Normandy’s crash site, and to place a memorial honouring them. It wasn’t the request that had her worried; she took no issue with it, and in fact welcomed it. The unfortunate caveat of it meant visiting the wreckage and confronting psychological demons she wasn’t sure she could handle.

On top of that, the location gave her a profound sense of loneliness and isolation; seeing how her friends had changed, feeling the distrust and distance being created that she wasn’t sure she deserved. Friends she thought she could lean on either had too much on their own plate for her to fathom the idea, or had come at her with such distrust that she didn’t know how to approach the situation (or give them her own trust). This, she sat in the mess hall, hoping a drink and a snack would at least ease the difficult war going on in her head.

But instead, she stared blankly ahead, not so much as touching her food and drink as the seconds ticked by. How long it had been, she hadn’t the faintest clue; what brought her out of her dissociative thoughts was a voice, and the presence of one of her causes of loneliness and isolation.

Kaidan Alenko. The one person she’d thought would have the warmth in his heart to listen to her—and the person whose words and actions had wounded her the most.

“Making up a two-year deficit, I guess,” she replied. There was a certain numbness to her voice; it was a product of the exhaustion she felt, emphasized by the visible dark circles under her eyes. In front of her was a cup of coffee—untouched, and only barely lukewarm—as well as a small plate of cheese and crackers, also untouched. “Help yourself,” she added, nudging the plate in his direction. It wasn’t like she was going to eat it any time soon.

“I’m guessing your problem isn’t one of your migraines, at least, or you’d be hiding in the darkest, quietest corner you could probably find.” She’d seen more than a few times when he’d dealt with them; they always worried her every time. She remembered bringing him water, even bringing Chakwas over once in a while so he wouldn’t have to move. One time she’d even sat with him, quietly sketching in near-darkness just to keep him company.

It was a shame all she could do was stare at the blank page and come up empty whenever she tried to sketch as of late.

She thought about Hackett’s email. Retrieving the dog tags was one thing, and placing the memorial was no bother. What gnawed at her was the rest of what she’d face down there; memories that haunted her dreams, savagely assaulting her when she was alone, panicking in her quarters where no one could witness her moments of weakness. The anger at herself, for not being able to do better, and the guilt of the blood of her comrades on her hands—again.