Chapter Text
Two years was a very long time.
If asked, Shepard would say that two years ago he was on Arcturus Station, confined to a hospital bed. He’d been there three months, watching other patients come and go, while his acid burns healed and his bones mended and the wounds that ran deeper started to fade to scars. Two years ago, he would say, he had been recovering from Akuze.
It wasn’t true.
Two years ago, he’d had a ship, a crew, wore dogtags and Alliance blues. Two years ago, he’d been a hero, The Savior of the Citadel, defender of organic life, the rallying cry against Sovereign’s promise of destruction. Two years ago he’d been a commander, a Spectre, dedicated to the cause, even if that cause had him sniffing around a dead star system for a month.
Two years ago, he’d died.
He had to make these little adjustments.
Now his ship was gone, what remained of his crew scattered, his rank—he didn’t want to think about that. No dogtags or BDUs but Cerberus fatigues. A ship he couldn’t trust. A crew he couldn’t trust. A couple familiar faces, but not enough. He had a deep down longing to see the rest of his old friends again, something primitive and childish inside him that threatened to swell up until he was kicking and screaming to get his way.
One old friend in particular.
He’d asked the Illusive Man about each and every one of them; 20 were dead in the same attack that had ended him two years ago, but the rest—the ones he’d gotten to know the best, the ones he’d been most worried about, he realized with no small sense of shame—were alive. That knowledge alone was enough to satisfy him for at least a few minutes, but he needed to know where they were.
He needed to know where Kaidan was.
The first moment he had to himself, he wrote a message. It was simple. Kaidan. I’m alive. I need to see you. Contact me. John. He had nowhere to send it, though, so he just saved it to his omni-tool. Eventually he added a Shepard to it. Deleted the John. Added it back. Thought about adding Commander… no. Too impersonal.
As soon as he could, he was headed to the Citadel. Anderson was a welcome sight, even if it meant talking to the council. Almost immediately after the councilors’ holos flickered out, he turned back to his former CO and started in on the questions. Kaidan was still fighting the good fight—that’s all Anderson would tell him.
“Can you get a message to him?” Shepard asked, trying not to let his desperation show.
Anderson frowned. “I can try. I’m not in regular contact with him. He reports directly to Hackett, he could get a message through. But, well, I’m not sure anyone in the Alliance will be eager to do Cerberus any favors.”
“This isn’t Cerberus,” he said as he opened his omni-tool. “This is from me.” He tapped a few buttons to send the message to the councilor. “Please, Anderson.”
Maybe he let some of his desperation show, because Anderson looked at him hard for a moment before nodding. “Alright, Shepard. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll do what I can.”
A wave of relief washed over him, short-lived but lightening. “Thanks.”
On his way back to the Normandy, he made a new friend. Strange girl, not at all what he’d expected from the dossier the Illusive Man had given him. He’d expected… well, he wasn’t really sure. Someone more professional, more sophisticated. Someone more Cerberus. He liked her.
He found an old friend, too, not long after that on Omega. Once they scraped him off the floor and patched him up, it was great to have Garrus back. He wasn’t the same man Shepard had known two years ago; still serious, still determined, far too focussed for his own good, but looser somehow, quicker with a dry joke or a light tease, easier to talk to when he wasn’t calibrating that damn gun.
And then there was the salarian. Shepard just didn’t know what to make of Mordin. Brilliant, lethal, fast-talking, crazy. He was a piece of work, one Shepard looked forward to figuring out.
But no matter how many faces joined the crew, new or old, there was just one face he longed to see.
***
They were on their way back from Kopis when a private message came in on his omni-tool. It was from Anderson.
Not able to get through. Will keep trying. Keep fighting the good fight. Be careful with who you trust.
Three weeks. Shepard had been back for three weeks, and Kaidan still didn’t know. Or worse, he knew, and Shepard hadn’t been the one to tell him.
When they reached the Normandy he took the elevator straight to his cabin, still clad in his armor, ignoring Garrus’ questioning look and Miranda’s call as he strode past them. He just needed a minute alone. Deep breaths in the elevator, trying to center himself. Everything was alright, he reminded himself as he counted the seconds of each inhale. Kaidan was alive and well and still fighting. That was what mattered.
But it still felt like he’d just lost everything.
When he finally reached his cabin, he hit the privacy switch on the door, and the green holo flicked to red. Normally he left it unlocked, the rare times he was actually there—he liked being accessible to his crew, and they rarely ever disturbed him in his cabin, anyway. But not today.
His hands shook as he fumbled with the clasps of his armor, making it all but impossible to free himself. After several minutes of struggling he only managed to get his gauntlets off.
He leaned against the wall, pressed his forehead to the cool metal, and breathed. Tried to remember what had kept his hands steady when he’d faced down an asari Matriarch and her squad of commandos, when he’d aimed that fatal shot at Saren’s defiled corpse. If he could stay steadfast in the face of annihilation, he could get his damn armor off.
He tried again, moving slow, but his hands still trembled too badly to free himself. With a curse, he slammed a hand against the wall.
“Jeeze, Shep.”
He started and spun, fists glowing as he prepared to cast a preemptive singularity. There was no one, he was alone. He let his biotics fizzle out across his skin and armor, shook his head and closed his eyes. Really, John? he chastised silently. You’re losing it over this?
But when he opened his eyes again, he wasn’t alone. A small figure had materialized across the room, leaning against his desk. He jumped at the sight, glanced toward the door. It was still locked.
“Kasumi,” he said, as evenly as he could. “What are you doing in here?”
“Snooping,” she said with an innocent smile. “You learned so much about me on Bekenstein, I thought it was only fair I learned a little about you. But you spoiled that when you came back from your mission early. I was going to sit quietly until you fell asleep, then slip out.” She pushed off the desk and came to stand before him, activating her omni-tool. “But you’re sure in a mood. Maybe I can help.”
“I don’t think so.”
She ignored him, deft fingers skittering over the orange around her forearm. After a moment she stopped tapping and waved her arm in front of Shepard’s chestplate; a faint click, and air rushed in against his skin as the seals cracked and the clasps unlatched and the heavy armor slid off of him into a heap on the floor. He was left standing in his underarmor while Kasumi smirked at him.
“Neat trick,” he admitted, somewhat grudgingly, as he stuffed the armor away. “Where’d you learn to do that?”
“You pick up a lot of different skills in my line of work.”
“What, you have to steal some poor bastard’s armor mid-fight or something?” He shook his head, a smile almost gracing his lips.
“Of course not,” she scolded, although her own smile didn’t change. “I’d never do a thing like that.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.” Once his armor was put away, he turned back to her, humor waning in the face of his bad mood. “Would you mind—?”
But she interrupted swiftly. “You know, there’s a lot about a person you can learn in two hours alone in their space.” She tapped a gloved finger against his fish tank, sending the creatures flitting away in a panic.
“You’ve been in here two hours?”
“Yep.”
He really shouldn’t have been surprised. World-class thief she was, he was just lucky if everything was where he’d left it. He sighed. “So tell me, what have you learned?”
She walked over to his desk and pulled open the top drawer. He turned away before she could reach her hand inside; he already knew what she was after. A picture of Kaidan he kept, out of sight but always nearby.
But when he turned back, she was holding up his bag of Gummy Blastos. “Sweet tooth?” she asked with a sly smile before sucking one past her painted lips.
He laughed, quiet and short-lived, mostly out of relief. “I’m a biotic. We burn more calories.”
“Still. There are healthier ways, my friend.” She took a handful before putting the bag back. “But I haven’t figured out what could get you so worked up.”
“It’s nothing,” he said, and even he knew it sounded thin. “It was just the mission.”
She shook her head. “If it was the mission, you’d be down there, figuring it out. Not up here moping.” She strode back to him and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him over to the couch. Once he was seated, frowning up at her, she moved back to his desk and returned a moment later with the carafe of whiskey and two tumblers he kept hidden in his bottom drawer. She poured them each a glass before sitting down beside him.
“Thanks,” he mumbled into the harsh liquid.
“So.” She took a sip of her drink before setting it on the coffee table. “What’s got you down, Shep?”
He probably shouldn’t trust her, he mused as he stared into his glass. A master thief hired by Cerberus, she was probably the last person he should trust. But she had no ties to the Alliance, no permanent ties to Cerberus… and she was asking.
“It’s, uh….” He smiled despite himself, laughed at the absurdity of it. “It’s a guy.”
She didn’t laugh along with him, or smile, or make an off-color joke or kissy faces like he half-expected her to. Instead she stood and moved out of his line of sight, and when she came back a moment later she was holding the picture of Kaidan. She set it on the coffee table and sat beside him again. “Him?”
Even this small image, years old, one he’d seen hundreds of times, did something strange to his heart, filling it to burst even as it left him feeling empty. “Yeah. Him.”
“Handsome.” She nodded approvingly at the photo before turning back to Shepard. “Tell me about him.”
So he did. Some things, anyway. He told her Kaidan’s name and rank, told her about the man’s integrity, his devotion, his bravery. He described how Kaidan had never been afraid to speak his mind, never wavered, never blinked. How he endured his migraines in silence, no matter how bad they got. How he had not only followed Shepard into hell, he’d wanted to, wanted to be at Shepard’s back every step of the way from beginning to Shepard’s end. How he’d blamed himself for Ashley’s death, and had probably blamed himself for Shepard’s, too.
He didn’t tell her that Kaidan’s name alone was enough to get his blood pumping, or that thinking about what the man had been through and who he’d become made Shepard swell with pride, even knowing he’d played little part in it. He didn’t tell her how Kaidan had been the one to keep him on track, keep him honest, as they railed against annihilation, or how he wished he could wipe away every ounce of suffering Kaidan’s losses had brought him.
From the sad, soft smile she wore, he knew she understood it all, anyway.
“He sounds wonderful,” she said when he was finished, and to his surprise she sounded sincere. “So what’s the problem?”
“Can’t find him,” he shrugged before downing the rest of his drink. “Tried to get a message to him, let him know I’m alive, but his position is classified. I think the Alliance thinks anything from me is actually from Cerberus.”
“Well, why didn’t you just say so? I can find him for you.”
He looked at her, raising a suspicious eyebrow. “You a comm specialist too?”
“No.” She shook her head, a wicked smirk on her purple lips. “I’m the best thief in the galaxy. Finding things is half of what I do. Usually small, expensive things that have been hidden away in vaults for years. Finding one person should be a snap.”
Maybe he shouldn’t have. She was a wild card, a loose cannon; he was trusting her with something he hadn’t trusted to anyone. He always did like the wild cards. “Yeah. Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”
A small hand came to rest atop his, and he looked up at her. She leaned forward, just close enough that he could see her eyes beneath the shadow of her hood. “I have a little piece of Keiji back, thanks to you. The least I can do is send a message for you.”
“Alright.” He pulled his hand away to open his omni-tool, but she stopped him with a hand up as her own flickered to life.
“No need, I already got it.” Her smile was mischievous as she pulled the message up.
“You hacked my omni-tool?”
She didn’t answer, just frowned at her device for a moment before sighing. “Really, Shep? Two years, and that’s all you have to say to him?”
He blinked. “In a message, yes.”
“Alright, if you say so. “A few more taps to her omni-tool and she closed it down. “I’ll get to work on this. It might take a few days, but I’ll find him.”
“Thanks,” he said as she turned and headed for the door. Just as she reached it, he remembered one more thing. “Oh, and…”
She turned back to him.
“Don’t tell anyone about this. I don’t want Cerberus knowing.”
“Of course. Discrete is my middle name.” And to prove her point, she vanished.
***
Turns out, Kasumi was as good as she claimed. Within a week, a message came through to his omni-tool, forwarded from her. No name, but he didn’t need it.
John Shepard died two years ago. I don’t know who you are or what your game is, but I’m not playing it.
Before he’d even finished reading, he was stalking in the direction of the port observation deck. “Where is he?” he demanded as he burst through the door, as if she were hiding him away.
Kasumi just smiled at him from her spot stretched out on the couch, one of her archaic books propped open in her lap. “What took you so long, Shep? I was expecting you sooner.”
“Slow elevator.”
“Right, I noticed that.” She closed her book with a thunk and sat up, and the parts of her face he could see turned grave. “Are you sure you want to know? His position is classified. You could lead Cerberus right to him.”
He took a shaky breath. “I need to know.”
“Alright. It’s a place called Horizon.”
He was out the door and on his way to the CIC in an instant.