#the second one was after finding Saren oop

[lovelywingsart]

Guess who had fun in Mass Effect 2 the other night

[theoriginalladya]

As for the brillant headcanons of yesterday. Can we get E sharing a drink for Hackett and Anderson?

From this prompt list.

Thank you for all of the lovely prompts you sent!  Here is the first of them, set in the world of Caleb Shepard.  This actually combines two of those headcanons from yesterday ....  oops!  ;)

~~~

The bar, a dive in one of the seedier Wards, is crowded when he arrives but it is open.  From the looks of things, it didn’t suffer too badly from the geth attack, or, if it did, it was cleaned up quickly.  Whatever the case, it appears as popular as ever with a line that extends out the door and down the street.  He walks up to the door and the bars on his shoulders speak for him, guaranteeing no wait time, and he enters.  

The place is packed.  Humans and turians, asari and salarians, plus a few he is not as familiar with; but all who are here have one thing in common.  They all wear the uniform.  Soldiers and sailors, the lot of them.    

A table hidden away in a far back corner is his destination.  It is mostly framed by shadow, but there is one figure sitting alone.  He takes a seat and finds two glasses next to a larger bottle made from some kind of dark, opaque glass.  Ah, the good stuff.  Shrewd eyes lift to meet the dark pair sitting across from him and he nods his greeting and appreciation for the choice.  Words are not spoken, but none are needed and his companion pours two fingers worth in each glass.  Quietly, he takes one, lifts it.  A quick inspection reveals the deep rich tones of the amber liquid even in this light.  Definitely the good stuff.  

Blue eyes meet brown.  “Sláinte.”  Their voices wrap around the foreign word together before they each take a sip.  

Anderson is the first to respond, eyeing his glass and giving it an appreciative nod.  “That’s … smooth.”

Hackett nods in satisfaction as he evaluates his own. “A good choice.”

Anderson chuckles.  “You’re not going to believe this.”  

Anderson turns the bottle so Hackett can read the label more closely.  One brow arches as the date and the distillery become clear.  “I sense a story somewhere.”

“Indeed.”  With a sigh, the Councilor takes another sip, savors it, then swallows.  “Shepard gave it to me,” he explains.  “As a ‘thank you,’ or so he said at the time.”

Snorting softly, Hackett takes another sip.  “Must’ve been one hell of a favor.”

A smirk curves at Anderson’s lips.  “For recommending him to ICT,” he clarifies, “but that came later.  He hated me from the moment I showed him the acceptance letter.  It was right after Akuze, you see.”  

Hackett winces.  One hell of a story.

“Anyway, after he made N7, he brought that to me. Told me to save it, that we’d share it after his first ‘big mission,’ or some such nonsense.”  Anderson sighs and shakes his head.  “Opportunity never arose.  Years later, when boarded the Normandy, he asked if I still had it.  Once he made Spectre, he promised we’d share a glass once Saren was caught.  That defeating him was a mission worthy of the bottle.”  His voice fades and he stares down into his glass.  “And now …?”

Hackett’s lifts his glass and tilts it toward Anderson who follows suit.  “You had a better connection to his past than I did,” he reminds his friend after another drink.

“Yeah.”  Another sigh. “Maybe.  Do you remember Connor O’Reilly?”

Hackett shakes his head.  “Should I?”

“Back in our early days, but after Shanxi. Quiet, soft spoken, one hell of a lieutenant.”

Hackett reconsiders, the hint of a memory teasing him a minute or so later.  “I think I remember.”

Anderson’s smile shifts from grim to warm.  “He is Athair Connor now,” he explains.  “Took to the cloth after leaving the service.  Decided he wasn’t cut out for war and would rather save souls instead.”  He downs the rest of his drink.  “But that didn’t stop him from sending Shepard my way.”

“I’m glad he did.”  Hackett follows suit.  The moment he sets the glass upon the table, Anderson is filling both again.  “Have you told him?”

Sorrow fills Anderson’s dark eyes once more and he shakes his head.  “I’ll do that in person,” he murmurs.  “When I can get away from here.”  He runs a hand over his face.  “What did you think of him?”

Hackett frowns.  “Of who?  O’Reilly?”

“No; Shepard.”

Hackett runs his fingertips lightly around the squarish top edge of the glass.  He’d only met Shepard twice in person, each time with Anderson present.  How would he describe the younger man?  Quiet.  Unassuming. Independent.  But there had always been something in his eyes.  A fire of some kind, a spark.  A burning ember, always banked, ready to flare up when necessary.  “One hell of a soldier,” he finally replies.  

They lift their glasses and the soft clink as they touch echoes around them.  “He was that, I agree,” Anderson says.  “To Shepard.”

The bottle isn’t large, and it takes less than an hour for them to work their way through it with somber reflection on a man who died far too young.  They part ways outside of the bar, and Hackett is halfway back to the docks when his left wrist vibrates.  He pulls up his omni-tool, prepared to refuse Anderson’s second request to have dinner with him and Udina later.  He is surprised to find the message is not from the Councilor.

To: Admiral Steven Hackett, Systems Alliance

From: Dr. Liara T’Soni

RE: Our mutual acquaintance

Admiral,

   You do not know me, but I assisted Commander Shepard during the hunt for Saren.  My name is Liara T’Soni.  I am Benezia’s daughter.  I was with the commander when the Normandy went down.  Though I do not have proof of it yet, the situation may not be nearly so dire as it seems …

(Also on AO3 here)