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‘It reminds me of Kaidan.’
Those were the words Shepard dreaded thinking, a week after Horizon. When he thought of the ways he had scrambled to get in touch with Kaidan—taking the Normandy, reinstating his worthless Spectre commission, visiting Anderson wearing terrorist colors—and then he thought of the way Kaidan had turned away from him on Horizon.
He hadn’t known what to say to win the man over, and he still didn’t. He hadn’t even been thinking of it on this mission, some garden world Shepard could not remember the name of. Not at first. Breathing heavy, wet armor grinding against the rockface, crouching beneath an outcropping. Staying out of the rain. He gripped the shotgun close to his chest so he didn’t give away his position, kept it pointing with a steady aim where a vorcha might appear if he rounded the corner. He just needed to catch his breath, then he could take a peek and see if he could expose the Blood Pack mercs that had them pinned down.
Then he heard it.
The sound of rain fizzing against the dark energy of a biotic barrier. It was a sound Shepard was used to hearing, or it had been. It reminded him of Kaidan. Some other alien world, two years (two years!?) ago, crouched behind a rock, Kaidan at his back. The blue barrier surrounded him, the glow licking across his features and turning his eyes blue. The rain beating down on them as they surveilled a remote geth outpost. A hiss, a crackle with each raindrop that touched Alenko’s barrier.
He was used to that sound in battle. It was only Kaidan, taking up the rear. Watching his back.
But Kaidan was back on Horizon, or already back on the Citadel. And Shepard was alone with a crew of strangers. The sound of rain impacting the biotic barrier grew closer. Not Kaidan.
Shepard realized what was happening the moment before he heard the tell-tale thud-thud-thud underneath the crackling barrier.
“Krogan! Watch it!”
Shepard didn’t wait to see if his squad had understood, he threw himself from cover, round the corner—
Face to face with a burning-blue Krogan battlemaster. A shotgun blast impacted off his chestplate, shields broken. Buckled him to his knees. A click of a pulled trigger—no blast followed. Shepard sprung up with a shout. The Krogan ejected his thermal clip, it clattered against the stones, hissing in the cold rain. Shepard raised his weapon…
Cold rain...
Warmth.
Finally, Shepard stopped shivering, letting the hot water pour over him. He always did this in the shower, got right in before the water could warm up. Something about bearing the cold bought him permission to linger in the warmth later on.
He was showering in his cabin. Horizon was weeks behind him, now. Kaidan’s letter had arrived in his inbox. He’d read it once a day, at least, since.
Shepard’s body was grimy, and the heat was soaking into his knotted muscles. The thing about Horizon, he could tell himself, now, was that Shepard hadn’t known himself fully when he and Kaidan clashed. Why did he dread it so much, the thought that something could remind him of Kaidan? Memories like that—little things like the way Kaidan stepped out onto an alien world for the first time—they were for quiet moments. You were supposed to think back like that when you were feeling the most generous with yourself, allowed yourself to become untethered from the pressing immediacy of whatever else was in front of your senses. He shouldn’t be remembering Kaidan on the battlefield. In the streets of Illium. A nightclub on Omega.
He had never felt more on his guard in his life, never more directly assaulted by the evidence of danger his senses broadcast every moment.
What did it mean that Kaidan still shone through all that? If he’d known that, he’d have said the right thing on Horizon.
Kaidan.
And the way his perfect hair collapsed into wet locks when he ducked under the showerhead, back when Kaidan and Shepard would shower in the crew showers after missions aboard the SR-1. The way the water would slowly mat his chest hair, the soap lather sliding down his front.
Alone in a private cabin. Alone in a private shower. Warmth.
This was not a battlefield, not the slums of Omega.
Shepard closed his eyes. Kaidan stood before him, dripping wet beneath the spray. He would see Shepard watching him and grin. His eyelashes carrying glittering drops of water above his deep, brown eyes.
“Shepard—uh, Commander—I’m… I’m really flattered, but… you should know I don’t do that kind of a thing. Not lightly, anyway.”
It was Shepard’s fantasy, but still Kaidan spoke like himself. Shepard would shake his head, step closer so they were sharing the shower stream. The warmth.
“I know,” Shepard would say. “I’m not suggesting it lightly.”
“So you’re pulling rank?” Kaidan would give a sly look, but would reach out his hand and touch Shepard’s chest. The rivulets cascading down his front drew Shepard’s eyes down Kaidan’s body.
Eyes closed beneath his private shower, Shepard’s hand slowly drifted down to his cock.
“No, never with you, Kaidan.” He would say, the heady rush of arousal dizzying him under Kaidan’s piercing gaze. “I don’t feel any of the ways I feel about you ‘lightly.’”
Kaidan would reach out, let his fingers trail across Shepard’s trembling belly, then feeling where Shepard was growing hard between his legs.
Shepard gasped. Shepard would gasp. Then he would hold his breath and Kaidan was holding his, too. The only sound the patter of the spray against the deck.
The patter of rain....
Pouring against the window pane.
Expansive windows looked out over the skyline of Vancouver, the curtains of rain dragging lazily across the afternoon. Everyone still out on the streets below, hurrying between buildings and cover, all had something to be doing.
Shepard had been under house-arrest for months. No one would tell him what had happened with the Normandy since he turned himself in. Nobody would tell him about his crew.
No visitors.
No Kaidan.
No news.
He leaned his forehead against the cold glass. Shepard had only seen the inside of this room for weeks and weeks. Nothing here should have reminded him of Kaidan… nothing except the damn windows. That city. Vancouver. Kaidan’s city. And it rained all the time. Shepard had obviously been many times, but after one midnight conversation about the city, it would always be Kaidan’s home in Shepard’s mind.
He was in love with Kaidan. He wouldn’t have been able to admit it while he was still hunting the Collectors, but now he could. It didn’t solve any of his problems. How could he be in love with Kaidan? What did they have? A few months careening around the galaxy, hunting a rogue Spectre? They had a commander/lieutenant relationship.
They had midnight conversations. Shepard had told Kaidan about his past and Kaidan had listened. Been there for him when Ash was killed. When Toombs confronted him.
He’d said losing Shepard was like losing a limb.
“I miss you.” Shepard said it aloud because it was the only thing he could trust himself to say. What did he know about Kaidan, anymore? It was unhealthy to be thinking of Kaidan so much. But what the hell else was he supposed to do, under arrest? The excuse gave him little comfort: he could remember all the times Kaidan had jumped into his mind mid-battle, mid-sleep, mid-dinner. He couldn’t focus, sometimes, he thought of Kaidan and that was all his mind would be interested in doing.
It had consumed him during his months of boredom. If time healed all wounds, his feelings for Kaidan were no wound. ‘It reminds me of Kaidan’ were still words he dreaded thinking. But with the space and the time and the drudgery, he reflected back on all the things that had reminded him of the man. Most days, though, he thought of Kaidan and became overwhelmed—too many open operations in his brain. And in Vancouver it rained all the time. It was easy to feel overwhelmed.
He was being overwhelmed.
Throwing his hands up in the air…
Shepard deflect the blow with the stock of his shotgun, the Krogan battlemaster wheeling up to strike at him again. He was being pushed back towards a precipice where the verdant canyon of the alien world opened its arms to the downpour, and to Shepard. The rain still sizzled on the Krogan’s barrier—where was Kaidan?
He turned his back on Horizon.
Shepard fired from his hip, shot fully absorbed by the biotics. The Krogan, stripped of his barrier, gave a shout and flung Shepard through the air with a biotic throw.
He sailed.
Crunched onto his knees, first, still sliding across the wet stone—legs over the edge now, hip pressing into the jagged rock. His squad scrambled to help him, but a vorcha had appeared and pinned them down with flames.
He only had a split second to take in the sight, then the Krogan was sprinting up to him, arm wound back and crackling already with biotic light. Hanging from a cliff, his enemy rushing forward for a coup-de-gras. Voices cried out his name, neither of them Kaidan’s voice. His eyes tunneled, focusing only on the rushing battlemaster. His heart was overwhelmed: Kaidan. He considered letting go, rid himself of the nagging pull in his heart.
Shepard dug his fingers in and yanked himself forward, clabbering on his belly, limbs scrambling against the rock. The air quivered and the rockface shook as a warp field detonated where he had been hanging. With a cry, Shepard activated his omni-blade. A roll to the side as the Krogan brought down the butt of his shotgun like an axe. Shepard swept out with his arm, the omni-blade finding only the most token resistance as it cleanly sliced through the Krogan’s leg at the ankle.
There was a throaty scream, the Krogan thudded to the ground—almost falling on Shepard—and Shepard raced to stand up, to bear down on his enemy. To finish the job.
The stone was slicked with rain, he struggled to find purchase.
Body coiling…
And Kaidan would put his arms around him, step back with him so they were both under the head of the shower. He would push Shepard’s back against the bulkhead, warmed from the steam. As he stroked Shepard with one hand, he would place the other on Shepard’s face, would smooth a thumb across Shepard’s lip.
And Shepard would lean in, he’d be dying to. To claim a kiss. Kaidan’s lips against his own, against his throat, against his chest.
Shepard gripped himself lazily, leaning one hand against the wall. Kaidan would kiss his way down Shepard’s body before Shepard could realize what was happening. Kaidan would be as eager for him as he was for Kaidan.
“Losing you was like losing a limb,” Kaidan would say.
“I missed so much…”
“Did you miss me?” Kaidan idly raked his fingernails down the small of Shepard’s back.
“More than anything,” Shepard would say, and that would be the truth. “When you walked away from me on Horizon…”
“Don’t talk about Horizon.” Kaidan would speak it sharply, but not unkindly. He would tilt Shepard’s chin, tilt his eyes away from drinking in the sight of Kaidan’s chest pressed against his. “I didn’t go anywhere on Horizon, remember? I came with you.” And that could be the truth for now, Shepard thought, quickening his pace on his cock.
The heat of Kaidan tight against him, a deeper, more intimate heat than the water.
That steam rolled against the mirror.
Shepard’s distorted reflection in the glass.
Shepard’s own tired image staring back at him, superimposed above the Vancouver skyline, reflected back as he stood at the window and watched the fog roll through the streets and devour buildings. Vancouver was always like this, at least while Shepard had been staring out the window in this apartment.
Knowing what he knows now, what would he have said to Kaidan?
“I’m sorry I left you.” And he was sorry—sorry that he had lost two years. But it wasn’t his fault he went away.
“Please come with me, we’ll do everything different.” But Cerberus’ way had been the only way Shepard could see—could still see.
“I love you.” And he did, but what could admitting it possibly do?
“If you leave, I’ll be fine without you.” It was true. He could look back now on the year and see that he had been alright after Kaidan walked away on Horizon. He’d hurt, he’d yearned, and he just went on living. Through a suicide mission, through a court martial, through husks and Collectors and mercenaries
He’d come so close to death, so many times...
Felt like he was always fighting.
Shepard’s shotgun skittered to ground and over the cliff face, but his omni-blade was still active. He leapt in the air, flung himself at the prone battlemaster. The tip of his blade seared through the Krogan’s armor and plunged into one of his hearts. The Krogan roared out in pain, beady eyes wide with shock.
He grabbed Shepard’s throat, squeezed, pushed himself off the ground, Shepard still pinned to him by the blade sunk into the Krogan’s chest and his hand around Shepard’s neck. The Krogan tried to step forward and careened to his hands and knees, Shepard slammed into the ground beneath him. Screaming hot breath into Shepard’s face, the Krogan raised his fist. With a heave, Shepard pulled up on the blade, ripping through the battlemaster’s collar and out the side of his shoulder. Blood was pouring with the rain, now.
Kaidan wasn’t there to save him, Shepard didn’t need saving. Shepard wedged a foot beneath himself and pushed up, rolling the Krogan over, still screaming and batting at him with his fists. Shepard plunged his omni-blade so deep in the Krogan’s chest that his fist smashed into the battlemaster’s armor.
He stabbed again.
And again.
And the screaming he heard, now, was his own. The ground slicked with puddles tinged with blood. He sprung up and ran for his shotgun, but by the time he picked it up and whirled back around, his squad had taken care of the rogue vorcha. The battlemaster lay dead.
He didn’t need to be saved. He’d never needed to be saved. Kaidan had turned his back on Horizon, and only then did Shepard realize he’d been all wrong about Kaidan Alenko. Now, cold rain pounding down on his head, the remains of a Blood Pack hit squad messily splayed upon the ground, Shepard knew he never would have realized what Kaidan meant to him before Horizon. It would be foolish to be grateful for the encounter, and Shepard couldn’t go that far. As ‘acceptance’ went, that tasted bitter.
Kaidan at his back. Kaidan in his arms. Shepard didn’t need Kaidan to save him.
He needed Kaidan in order to feel safe.
Safe…
Kaidan’s arm would wind around Shepard’s naked waist, fingers playing at the base of his spine. He would be able to hear Kaidan’s heavy breaths over the sound of the water pattering against the floor. He would put both hands on Kaidan’s chest, thumb teasing across Kaidan’s nipple. Kaidan would moan, press into Shepard, hard against Shepard’s hip.
Shepard touched his own chest, fisted his cock, his imagination driving his pace.
They’d kiss like they were trying to inhabit the same space, wet skin beneath their fingers, gulping in the hot air around them. Kaidan would turn him around, and Shepard would put his hands against the bulkhead; he would close his eyes when Kaidan took his hips. He would gasp when Kaidan tongue trailed past the base of his spine, teasing Shepard open.
Unhealthy—this obsession with Kaidan Alenko. The thought shot through his head as he leaned his back to the shower wall, almost able to feel Kaidan’s tongue against his entrance, Kaidan’s fingers sinking into the muscle of his thighs. Only here. In his private bathroom, in his private quarters, on his own deck, in his own ship: only here was safe enough to imagine Kaidan like this. And yet, that was part of the problem: his Cerberus ship. That was why Kaidan didn’t come with him.
There was nothing Shepard could have said to convince Kaidan. Was it unhealthy to be this obsessed with the man? Was it a bad idea to masturbate, imagining the feel of Kaidan sliding into him in the shower, holding him under the spray and pressing a soft bite into his shoulder? Yes. It was a terrible idea.
But he could think of nothing else but Kaidan. Why shouldn’t he get some slice of happiness, however brief, from this graveyard of amorous images he would never experience with the man he loved.
Kaidan’s hips would snap against his, losing himself in the feel of Shepard the way Shepard would lose himself in Kaidan. It would be so tender, even with the impatience. He’d let himself fall against the bulkhead, let Kaidan hold him up. Take him by the shoulders, pull his hands behind his back, fuck him till they were both sweating under the rising steam.
Shepard threw his head back and came.
As he caught his breath, in the raw moment of clarity, Shepard could see the whole problem laid out before him. He was in love with Kaidan Alenko. Whoever Kaidan was now, Shepard had fallen in love with the man he knew. They’d shared something, and they both had felt it. On Horizon, Kaidan had told Shepard he had changed, but Kaidan was the same man.
How could that possibly be after so long? After so much? Still, he hoped so. What they’d had didn’t get a name, but it had been real.
Shepard was alone. But he wasn’t safe.
Shepard was alone. But he wasn’t safe…
The rain soaking Vancouver continued to beat against Shepard’s window. He called up his omni-tool and with a few movements, the windows frosted until they became translucent: panels of soft gray lining the wall, letting the light through but none of the sights.
It didn’t matter what he had said on Horizon, or what he could have said. He loved Kaidan, that meant he wanted to know him.
“Kaidan, when I’m with you I feel safe, I feel happy, and I feel loved.” He said the words aloud, finally. If Shepard had died two years ago and this was a new life, the whole of it so far had been dedicated to discovering why it was Kaidan pulled his attention so. Why he was in love with the man.
Kaidan was different, Shepard was different. But he was ready, now, to talk to Kaidan. To tell Kaidan how he felt.
Something about that inner awakening, that confidence, reminded him of Kaidan.