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Ava wipes the steam from the mirror and studies herself. Her wet hair is dark, sticking to her face and dripping water down her arms and back and breasts. She sighs and crosses her arms, before she stands at parade rest. The tiles beneath her are wet and there is a slight breeze coming in through the window in her bedroom.
This suite is comfortable but it is a prison. A rotating cast of junior officers stand guard outside the door. They all avoid eye contact with her, except for one. When her food arrives, or when housekeeping comes in to clean the suite, and to change her bed clothes and towels, she is handcuffed, and she stands in the centre of the living area. The orderlies clean around her, as though she is an inanimate object and not the most dangerous person in the room.
She chews lightly on her full lower lip. She sees two Ava Shepards. There is Ava Aurora Shepard, born in April 2154 on Arcturus to Hannah and Hiro Shepard. She was breech and would not turn. Causing trouble even before she was born, her father always said. This Ava Aurora Shepard died in space, above the skies of Alchera. She had a scar that spanned from below her right eye to the left-hand corner of her mouth, from a shard of glass on the first day of her stand on Elyisum. She had scars on her knuckles, a healed burn on her left forearm, and a thick scar that ran down her right thigh from a Batarian blade.
They are all gone. Every scar that she earned in the service of the Alliance is gone, leaving her standing here. The other Ava Aurora Shepard. She was born two years ago on a Cerberus laboratory table, and though her implants seem to have settled, she can still trace the strange seams of her rebirth.
She traces her fingers over her absent scars, the secret cartography of her life.. Passing a thumb over one nipple, she lets her other hand travel down her stomach which is maybe a little softer, despite her attempts to work out in the confines of her prison suite.
There is a knock on the open door and she looks up. She meets the reflected gaze of James Vega in the mirror and he looks faintly apologetic.
“Housekeeping is here, Commander.”
She smiles, slow and dangerous, and turns around, holding her wrists out, ready for the cuffs.
“Are you going to put some clothes on, Commander?”
“I prefer to air-dry, Lieutenant Vega.”
There is no reaction from the orderlies, as though it is perfectly normal to see a naked disgraced Alliance soldier standing in cuffs.
A few days later, she receives a formal reprimand from Admiral Harper about appropriate behaviour.
“It’s just one more drop in the bucket,” she says, handing the datapad back to Vega. She sighs and rolls her eyes. “I apologise if I was inappropriate, Lieutenant Vega.”
He just shrugs. “Didn’t bother me,” he says and he grins, which makes him look even younger. “Guess I always wondered if the carpet matches the drapes.”
She stares at him and then bursts out laughing. “Holy shit, Vega.”
He just shrugs.
“Do you think I could get a pair of scissors?” She drags her hand down her hair, which is longer than it has ever been and even more unruly.
“Absolutely not, Commander.”
“Come on, Vega. You’ve seen me naked. I think we’re past Commander.”
The journey to Mars is not long, although it feels interminable. Ava does her best to avoid Kaidan, who makes no attempt to disguise his distrust, or his distaste, and Vega is avoiding her. It turns out he likes her a little less when she ranks above him in the chain of command, although it didn’t seem like he minded being under her in Vancouver. She supposes she could go and bother Joker but, instead, she chooses to focus on fitting her armour and checking her weapons. The armoury on the Normandy is not completely outfitted but she finds a pistol with adequate balance and then she chooses to spend the rest of the journey focusing on her breathing and her biotics.
She sits cross-legged on the floor of the shuttle bay, feeling the ebb and flow of dark energy around her. She hears the sound of someone clearing their throat and she opens her eyes, looking at Kaidan through a blue haze.
“Time to board the shuttle, Shepard,” he says. There is no sign of the uncertain man who served with her, who confided in her, who shyly told her that he loved her. She wonders what he sees when he looks at her now. Maybe she is just flotsam and jetsam; debris from the last Normandy to be consigned to the past.
Ava takes a deep breath and the blue ebbs away, in dissipating tendrils. Kaidan’s eyes are sharp and assessing. She is under no illusions. She is a threat.
She inclines her head. “Major.”
Kaidan flinches. Interesting.
Vega pilots the shuttle pretty well for someone who’s been on babysitting duty for six months and, when they land, Ava largely tunes out the chatter between him and Kaidan. There is something rotten here on Mars. Ava hasn’t been here for years but she remembers that there was always movement. She remembers her last approach, after her N3 trials. The Archives had looked like a particularly busy ant hill, with people and vehicles crawling all around. Now, it looks deserted and still; a forgotten monument to human ingenuity.
There is a dead Alliance soldier (assassinated, Ava’s mind helpfully supplies as she takes his sniper rifle and checks the sights). They walk down a dusty track to see a final execution taking place. Ava’s heart sinks as she recognises the armour, even from this distance. Her despair is quickly overtaken by fury, by abject rage that, while the Reapers are unmaking Earth, the Illusive Man is betraying humanity.
She takes a long, slow breath and Vega says something about having a clear shot.
Ava smirks and explodes forward in a burst of biotic blue, charging at the cluster of Cerberus troopers. The first dies on impact. He probably doesn’t know what hits him, which is a real fucking shame because Ava wants Cerberus to know that she is here and she will annihilate them. She smashes the ground with a closed fist, sending ripples of power outward and sending the remaining men scattering like bowling pins. It is the work of a minute, or less, to rip through them; a bullet to the brain of one while she reaches out with an outstretched palm to another, ripping his molecules apart with a burst of power. She tears his life force out of him and feels reinvigorated. She is a monster.
Kaidan demands to know why Cerberus is here - as if she could know, naked and cuffed on Earth, only allowed a rare glance at a locked datapad with no connectivity.
Ava ignores him, on the hunt now, and she races up the path to where a few Cerberus ground vehicles are parked. She doesn’t bother with weapons this time, relying solely on her biotics. Her ears are ringing but it feels so good to let her power rip.
It is only when they are inside the facility that she catches sight of Vega’s expression. He looks faintly stunned. He gets it now, Ava thinks. He understands that she could have escaped Alliance custody whenever she wanted.
Kaidan, it seems, is furious.
“Kaidan,” Ava says, forgetting rank, forgetting everything except her annoyance that he still can’t bring himself to trust her.
“Don’t Kaidan me–” he starts and Ava’s lip curls.
“Apologies, Major,” she says. She meets his gaze and she wonders if her eyes are still human, still the clear green that he used to love, or if there’s a hint of glowing red in their depths. “But I know fuck-all about Cerberus’ movements.”
It looks like Kaidan wants to say something but Ava concentrates on the elevator controls instead. Vega stands awkwardly to the side, looking furtively between them, like a child caught between arguing parents. Ava can’t help the upward twitch of her lips.
“Look,” she says, relenting, turning towards Kaidan who’s standing a lot closer to her than she realised. He’s not close enough that their auras collide but, oh, this is tactical. He’s close enough to disarm her, this man who used to be so disarming, and even though Cerberus gave her some serious upgrades, she is pretty sure that Kaidan has her beaten when it comes to biotics. He does not have her raw power, that’s for sure, but he has skill and subtlety that she could never hope to master. She crosses her arms. “Kaidan,” she says, and her voice comes out soft and hoarse. “I know you have no reason to trust me.”
He looks shocked at that, which rankles, and she purses her lips. “I know you have no reason to trust me but Hackett does, and Anderson does, and surely you can trust them.”
“They don’t know you like I do,” says Kaidan, visibly frustrated. “Like I did.”
A bubble of laughter gets caught in Ava’s throat and her voice cracks when she says, “I should hope not.”
Once upon a time, Kaidan might have smiled at that, or laughed. Once upon a time, he might have blushed but, instead, he looks coldly furious. “I don’t make a habit of fucking with the chain of command.” His gaze darted towards Vega and back to her. Unlike you, is left unsaid.
Kaidan’s eyes widen, as well they might, when Ava doesn’t react. She doesn’t say a word, and she looks away from him, drawing her aura in as close as possible so that it does not accidentally overlap with Kaidan’s as the elevator reaches the next floor; a wide open warehouse of a space. She can’t talk to him when he’s like this. She can’t talk to him when she’s like this because she will say something she regrets; something unforgivable that will make this rupture between them permanent.
She is a joke. Her heart is the punchline. Kaidan will never believe that she has not stopped loving him.
He stands near her again, although it is a more respectful distance now. There is a loud rattle in the air vents and, at first, Ava thinks that the whole place has been rigged to explode but then it becomes clear that there is someone up there.
A burst of blue and Liara erupts from the ceiling and kills the two Cerberus troopers who were following her. Ava gestures at Vega to put his gun away.
“We don’t shoot the nice Asari, Lieutenant.”
Vega looks chastened and Liara looks amused before it seems to hit her that Shepard is here. They embrace and if Liara touches her lips to the angle of Ava’s jaw, just below her ear, Ava barely reacts, beyond squeezing Liara a little tighter. Here, at last, is someone who knows her, although it is easy for Liara to believe. Liara has her scientific method, of course; she made sure Ava’s body was handed over to Cerberus. There is cause, and there is effect, and if the observing of a phenomenon changes it, Liara has seen enough.
Ava and Liara turn towards Kaidan and Vega. Vega’s expression is briefly glazed before he remembers himself and snaps to attention. Kaidan looks between Ava and Liara, and Ava can see that he suspects.
He is affable with Liara, though, more like the Staff Lieutenant of old; the man who gently encouraged the rather lost Asari academic to make a home on the Normandy. Ava tells herself that she is not jealous. It is not as if Liara is unchanged. She has become formidable, and powerful, and Kaidan is still gentle with her.
Ava orders Vega to return to the shuttle and he is clearly angry with her. She knows he is combat-proven and battle-ready but she does not know how he fights. Ava has fought alongside Liara recently enough to know how they can work together and she hopes that muscle memory is enough when it comes to Kaidan. He outranks her but this is her god-or-Hackett-given mission and she’ll be damned if she hands over control.
There is an ambush, of course; Cerberus troopers flooding into an upper level. Liara’s precise biotic control is very much in evidence as she tangles them in a singularity. Ava knows that she is expected to shoot them, but instead she raises her hand, a simple mnemonic to rip them to shreds with a biotic flare.
There is a moment of silence and when Ava turns, it is to find both Liara and Kaidan staring at her.
She looks between them and shrugs. “We don’t have time for subtlety,” she says.
“No one has ever accused you of subtlety,” says Kaidan, and his tone is so dry that it makes her heart ache in remembrance of his slyly funny asides.
“That’s new, though,” says Liara, still looking somewhat shocked.
“I woke up with a new amp,” says Ava. “Had to learn a few new tricks to keep up.”
They fall silent again, until Kaidan says, “What else has Cerberus put inside you?”
There is so much Ava could say to that. She could list off all the implants, and grafts, and all the nanotechnology used to resurrect her. She could tell Kaidan that Cerberus grafted an innovative composite bone matrix onto her axial skeleton, so she’s heavier than she used to be and she’s half an inch shorter. She could tell him that she has a uterus again because the Cerberus scientists decided to replace the one she lost to a penetrating wound during her N1 trials, when she almost failed out completely. Ava could tell Kaidan how she found out about that little surprise when she woke up bleeding and realised she was having a period for the first time in a decade.
Chakwas looked pale and angry when she injected Ava with a contraceptive implant, muttering about the importance of complete medical records.
Instead of responding to Kaidan, who looks sullen and annoyed, Ava starts looking for a way up to the next level.
Liara, ever the peacemaker, draws Kaidan into conversation about the Archives, asking him if he’s ever been here, and Ava charts their course through to the next ambush, and the next. She doesn’t speak much to Liara or to Kaidan, although she can tell that Liara wants to talk.
It is only when they reach the tramway that Liara looks at Ava cautiously, and comments about how capable Kaidan has become. Ava can’t exactly refute it. Kaidan is even more formidable now that he is allowing himself to use his biotics, and Ava has no doubt that he’s put in the hours to refine his marksmanship. Kaidan Alenko is a highly effective soldier and he is a good man and it is little wonder he wants nothing to do with Ava Shepard.
Ava goes to help Kaidan find a transmitter, so they can persuade Cerberus to send a tram across. Kaidan finds a dead Cerberus trooper and remove his helmet and Ava covers her mouth and nose with her hand at the stench. It looks as though the trooper is already in an advanced stage of decomposition and it smells like it too. Kaidan whirls towards her, eyes wide and wild, and he demands to know if Cerberus has done the same to her.
“You do not want to know what Cerberus has done to me,” Ava growls, advancing on him. “But I can assure you,” she continues, words becoming clipped in her anger, “That it was no worse than the way the Alliance and my friends have treated me.”
“Shepard,” says Kaidan. “You have to understand– you were dead.”
“Do you really think that fact escaped me, Major? Do you think I ever expected to wake up when I was thrown from the Normandy? When my suit ruptured? I am the one who died, Kaidan.”
“And I’m the one who mourned you!” The words erupt out of Kaidan, as though he’s powerless to stop them, and they stare at each other.
The Reapers are invading the galaxy, and Cerberus are sabotaging their attempts to find critical information that might allow the Alliance even to think about beginning to wage war against the Reapers, and Ava Shepard is staring at Kaidan Alenko, and Kaidan Alenko is staring back.
Of course, they crash together. There has always been gravity between them, dragging them closer to each other and flinging them apart. Kaidan tastes the same. Ava can’t stop to wonder if she tastes the same to him because they are kissing – no, they are devouring each other. Holding each other is awkward when they are both in armour but they pull back, almost simultaneously, and Ava rests her forehead against Kaidan, as they both breathe deeply.
“Shit,” Kaidan murmurs. “I didn’t–”
“I swear by Liara’s Goddess, if you say you didn’t mean to–”
“Shepard,” says Kaidan. “Shepard. I–” He steps away and he looks wrecked, and of course, it is now that Liara comes through to join them. She seems sweetly oblivious that she has interrupted anything and Shepard takes the transmitter from Kaidan’s hand and gets back to work.
She conducts their next attack against Cerberus, coordinating their strikes to maximum effect. Of course, Ava knows how Cerberus works. It seems ill-advised to say as much to Kaidan, who glances at her, now and again. He glances at her lips, which still sting sweetly after their kiss.
Oh shit, it’s Shepard! A distorted voice sounds from the trooper in front of her and she clenches her fist and punches with all her biotic might.
As last words go, she thinks, dispassionately, his were not the worst
Kaidan needs medical attention.
The words keep ringing around Ava’s head, clanging peals of truth, all through the conversation with Hackett and all through the journey to the Citadel. She spends most of that time in the cockpit with Joker; she can’t bear to stay in the med bay, waiting to see if Kaidan takes his next breath, and his next. Perhaps that makes her a coward but no one calls her out on it.
Joker chats to EDI, and together they make subtle adjustments to their flight path, and all the while, Shepard does not think of Kaidan on the next level down, safer in his armour than out, stabilising his neck, maintaining a steady infusion of medigel and keeping pressure on any bleeding points. Shepard does not think about how she may have jostled Kaidan when she was carrying him onto the Normandy.
She closes her eyes, leaning back against the headrest. Sleep will evade her; she knows that much but at least she can rest her eyes until Joker says, in a strangely soft tone, that they’re coming up on the Citadel relay.
Ava rubs at her face and nods, before she tugs at the collar of her BDU.
“Alert C-Sec and Alliance Citadel HQ that we need an emergency medical evac,” she says and while Joker is on comms to the Citadel, Shepard slips out of her seat and goes back down to the med bay.
Kaidan is still lying there, unmoving.
“EDI?” asks Ava.
“Major Alenko has not regained consciousness at any point. His vitals remain outside normal parameters but have remained largely stable. He is still alive, Shepard.”
“Thanks.” Ava’s voice is little more than a whisper. She drags a stool over to Kaidan’s bedside and sits down heavily. “C’mon, Kaidan. Hang on a little longer.” She wraps her fingers around his still-armoured hand. She can’t feel him and she knows he can’t feel her. He probably can’t even hear her. “C’mon. I survived death. You can survive being a little beat up.”
Ava sits by his bed, and even though she looks at him, she’s not really seeing him. In his armour, it’s impossible to see the rise and fall of his chest, if it’s there at all.
“Shepard, C-Sec medics are in the air lock, requesting permission to board,” says Joker over comms.
“Granted,” says Ava and, by the time the medics reach the med bay with their stretcher, she’s standing by the medic’s desk (Dr Chakwas’ desk, as it will always be, regardless of who staffs this space in the future). There is distance between her and Kaidan, as there has been for so long.
She follows the medics off the Normandy and into the docking area, and Vega and Liara fall into step behind her. She watches as the medics hurry away with Kaidan, headed to Huerta. Ava hasn’t heard of it but if it’s the best medical facility on the Citadel, she supposes Kaidan might have a chance.
She’s relieved to see a familiar face, in Captain Bailey (Commander now), and between him and the Council and the fate of the galaxy, Ava is sufficiently distracted.
She has time to stop at Huerta Memorial Hospital before she has to return to the Normandy. She has time to recruit Dr Chakwas and she has time to see Kaidan.
It is worse, now, seeing him out of his armour. He is badly bruised, around both eyes, his entire shoulder, but he is breathing. Now, she can see the movement of his chest and the fluttering of the pulse on the side of his neck.
“Kaidan,” she sighs. She sits beside him. It’s different to the Normandy’s med bay. There is simulated sunlight outside the floor to ceiling windows and the gentle beeping and buzzing of monitors. There is peace here, which is laughable while Earth burns. There is peace, and Ava takes Kaidan’s hand, but this time, she can feel his skin. It is too cool.
His hand is broader than she remembers. She traces her fingers lightly over the veins on the back before she turns his hand over, to examine his palm. There is a scar that must have been new, sometime in the past two years, but it is old and healed now, slender and straight. It’s from a kitchen knife accident, she decides, and not from combat. Perhaps he was cooking to impress someone – that doctor, maybe –
Ava sighs, and covers her eyes with one hand, the fingers of her other hand wrapped loosely around Kaidan’s wrist, where she can feel the faint beat of his pulse, quick and thready.
“Kaidan,” she tries again. “You have to live.”
Kaidan has to live so Ava has someone to fight (who’s not a race of giant, sentient machines). He has to live so she has someone to fight for (who’s not the entire population of the galaxy).
She squeezes his wrist gently. “Live, Major Alenko. I don’t care if it’s insubordination. You need to live so I can kick your ass for not believing in me.”