Virmire: Chapter Two

Title: Virmire Part Two
Author: DinkyMew
Game: Mass Effect (One)
Disclaimer: Bioware own all characters, content and world related to Mass Effect. The character of Abigail Shepard is my own creation inspired by the character of Jane Shepard created by Bioware. All original characters contained herein are my own creation and are not necessarily affiliated with Bioware. This version of Virmire may deviate from the actual events as depicted in game – please forgive the author this digression; it is meant for entertainment purposes and for the development of characters, not to offend.
Characters Featured / Pairings: Abigail Shepard (F); Ashley Williams (F); Kaidan Alenko (M); Jeff ‘Joker’ Moreau (M); Original character Stewart ‘Spooner’ Cooper (M); Pairings suggested in the writing: Kaidan Alenko & Abigail Shepard

When I was younger I would spend a lot of time in my father’s study. It was large – probably the largest room in the house and decked out with all the latest tech and gadgets. I would spend hours in there, tinkering with his stuff, listening to him talk about biology. The back wall behind his desk was peppered with framed pictures; most of myself in various poses and mishaps. A couple were awards he had received; one was a medal. And one still was a quote, in a language I didn’t recognise or understand: Quis hic locus? Quae regio? Quae mundi plaga…?

I would gather my ragdolls pigtails around her and stare at the words, sounding them out in my mouth; rolling my tongue over each letter, and still the meaning would elude me. When I got older, when we moved to Mindoir and I was gifted my first console I investigated myself the meaning behind those words.

What world is this? What Kingdom? What shores of what world…?

That is how I feel.

Curled in a makeshift bed, the duvet drawn over and around my head so only one eye can peek out, I watch the FTL stream outside the window above me. It dances like water, buffeting colours against the black and I take comfort in the fact we are moving; that Mindoir is far behind me and the horrors that occurred there have been left with it.

Only they haven’t. In the black of space – there is no day or night here – only lights up and lights down, I can’t sleep. I writhe in the sheets, wake bathed in sweat, my mother’s stricken face on my mind’s eye – the faces of everyone I loved still perfect in clarity haunt my waking thoughts.

I am still being kept in the med bay, but I have made it my own for the journey to my new world. I have pushed two beds together underneath the window, gathered bits and pieces from around the ship to keep me company in the silence. The pilot gave me a model Alliance fighter which I can’t put down; I like to twist it in my fingers and imagine my father is in there – he always wanted to be an Alliance Fighter Pilot.

I hear the doors open with a loud hiss as the hydraulics pulls them apart. I hold my breath listening to my heart thump in my ears like a drum calling me to war.

“Skipper?” The voice should be alien to me, and yet it is all too familiar. My saviour. I take one last look at the window and push the duvet back just as Spooner sits on the edge of my bed.

Neither of us speak; and there is a strange feeling between us, like the air before a lightning storm. He looks around the room, his green eyes noticing everything, calculating risk, cover, distance, escape – I can almost see the training rattle through his head before his eyes come back to me. This is the first time I have seen him out of his armour, and my blush I fear betrays my virtue. He is wearing a tank top, the kind that pulls into a ‘V’ at the back, allowing an ample view of his sculpted shoulder blades and the wolf tattoo that climbs along his back, one paw clutching his shoulder, claws digging deep furrows in the skin. His short blonde hair is hidden under a black N7 cap, the kind they issue upon entering the programme, and it makes his green eyes seem almost brown in the shadow.

“Wanted to check you were settlin’ in.” He nods, folding heavy hands in his lap as he crosses his feet at his ankles. “We’re… we’ll be at the Station in another day or so.”

I feel like crying. It might sound ridiculous but I have come to love this man in a way I never could muster for the boys back on Mindoir. The thought of being without him almost rips me in two.

“Are you ok?” He asks, and when I look at him he is watching me carefully, his voice full of genuine concern laced with urgency and fear for my wellbeing. For the first time since the awful events of Mindoir I feel safe; if slavers were to burst through the door right now I know this man would stand and fight for me. He would protect me.

I want to do him proud; I want to learn from him how to be strong, but as I take in his words and reflect on the question I can feel my eyes rush with tears and fight them back bitterly. I didn’t think I could cry anymore, and yet they course down my skin, unbidden and hot as I rub at them with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

Spooner reaches for me, tentatively, unsure and pulls me into an awkward embrace, his bulk surrounding me like a protective barrier.

“I lost my family too.” He says quietly against the top of my head, I can feel his lips move in my hair and I close my eyes, burying my face in his tank top “Not in the same way; they were marines. Same hurt though.” With a heavy sigh he pulls back, righting me once more and makes as if to stand.

Something, I don’t know what, desperation; fear? Makes me grab his forearm, feeling muscle tense under my touch as he pauses looking to me expectantly.

“Stay, just a little while.” I ask him weakly “I’m so scared Spooner.”

He looks back to the door of the med bay before nodding, slowly, contemplatively and I turn my back on him, gazing out that window once more. After a while his hand comes to my hair, stroking it away from my face and then rests on my shoulder, reassuring. I watch that FTL stream and for the first time since the raid I sleep.

Safe.

                                                ******

Abigail Shepard had been fine walking through the wards of the Citadel; she had been fine passing by people who looked like they would skin you alive for a few credits; she had even been fine on the elevator journey up from the docking bay – which was a rarity for her because elevators scared the shit out of her. Any tiny space sent her into a panic attack, but the moment she clapped eyes on the glowing neon sign of Flux panic had settled in her gut like an old enemy.

It wasn’t that she hated crowds, or dancing, or socialising; all of those things she quite enjoyed. It was the fact that this place was civilian – so removed from anything military that she felt at a loss of what to do. What was the proper protocol and procedure here? Here her rank meant nothing, she would have to toe the line like every other ‘civi’ in the dance club and like it – which was hard for her to do.

“Looks good!” Ashley exclaimed with unguarded excitement beside her “What do you think Shep?”

Abigail groaned, looking at her best friend seriously “I don’t know Ash… I feel a little nervous.”

“The great Commander Shepard?” Ashley jested prodding her ribs with a finger “Hero of Elysium – scared of a night club?”

“There is a good reason biotics are told to ration alcohol.” Abigail warned and Ashley’s eyes lit up as she looped arms with her.

Kaidan watched the entrance of Flux from the corners of his eyes, half his attention on the Quasar machine in front of Joker the other half wondering where the heck Ashley and Shepard were. They had agreed to meet here, not that he relished the thought much; too much light and noise eventually had only one result for him: migraine. At least here he could dull the effects with some alcohol; of course that came with its own repercussions and he didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of Shepard.

“She’s not here yet.” Joker complained beside him, punching the ‘high’ button and hissing loudly as he lost another 100 credits. He either had the worst luck in history or he was just plain rubbish at Quasar.

“Who?” Kaidan asked, feigning confusion, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as the first sweats began to form.

“The Commander.” Joker rolled his eyes “Kaidan, who’re you talking to?”

Kaidan looked to him and smiled, he was right. He had known Joker for a long time, they had roomed together on Arcturus when he enlisted in the Alliance again following the disaster with BAAT. They had been through a hell of a few years together, he probably knew him better than anyone.

“Give me some credit man.” Joker shook his head “I knew this before you even knew about it. I knew it the first minute you clapped eyes on her in that mess hall back on Arcturus.” He grinned “You only have three expressions Kaidan, not hard to decipher between them.” He jested.

“Alright.” Kaidan groaned “Thanks for that.” He took a quick drink of his alcohol – not daring to ask Joker what he had ordered, but it burned the back of his throat delightfully, and sank to his stomach like lead.

                                        *******

I like chicken. Chicken is such a versatile meat, it can be so plain – giving itself over to other flavours with ease – or it can be a powerful flavour on its own. I think I’m a little like chicken.

The food on Arcturus station is never top quality, most of it is frozen, pre-packed meals pushing out protein and little else. I would kill for some tomato soup – like mom used to make when I was ill. I can almost taste it as I look down on my plate of chicken with longing. I’m not ill; not really, but my head is a ticking time-bomb – the beginnings of a migraine scraping at the edges of my skull.

Beside me Joker tucks into his meal – some kind of salad wrap with some kind of weird looking yellow sauce. He’s always moaning about his diet; because of his brittle bone disease he has to eat sensibly knowing he can’t very well work off lots of calories. I wish I could bring myself to eat that green stuff, but it never keeps me going, I need meat in my diet and plenty of it – otherwise I feel ready to expire before lunch.

“Do you think the Captain will come by?” He asks me, taking a heavy bite of his wrap and tucking the excess sauce into his mouth with an agile thumb.

“He has to.” I say, moving the chicken around my plate with my fork “The Normandy is a new vessel, he has to be there to… I dunno… announce it I guess.” I cringe as the pain flares at the back of my neck, burning a trail up my spinal cord to the base of my skull.

I feel a jab to my shin, a boot kicking me with fierce urgency and I hiss, glancing to the culprit as Joker looks at ne, wide eyed. I shake my head and he tips his to the side, as if signalling and I follow the indicator. Across the table a woman has sat down, the seat next to her holding her duffel bag. She is reading a data pad, her face half obscured by an Alliance Military cap. Her long dark hair is pulled into a sleek ponytail that hangs over one shoulder. She lifts her head and I glimpse her face – frozen momentarily as my head rushes to comprehend what I can see before me.

She is beautiful. Breath-taking. Her flawless face is half hidden, but I can see her lips, full and red and soft as she draws her teeth over her bottom lip. The valleys and angles of her face are angelic, almost childlike in her beauty, far too young to be a marine I’m almost certain. She sighs, scrolling down the datapad some more before setting it to the side and glancing at Joker – then her eyes fix on my own.

They are blue.

The rarest and most precious gems of the earth; a deep, ice blue charged with green around the inner iris – like an ocean, roiling with mystery. There is a light in them that seems to speak to me and I resist the pull, averting my eyes back to the table as my face blooms with heat. I choke out a breath realising I have been holding it up to this point.

“Lieutenant!” a voice calls from the crowded mess hall. At first I don’t take notice, there are probably more than a dozen lieutenants in this hall as well as myself but then the voice calls again “Lieutenant Alenko?!”

Despite the pain shuddering behind my eyes I raise them to scan the crowd for the source. The place is heaving with cadets grabbing their last lunches before deployment, it’s impossible to tell where the voice came from. Then I see a lanky cadet coming toward me; his head is shaved and he is dressed in his uniform waving frantically at me. I smile as he comes closer and I recognise him. Jenkins.

“Jenkins.” I say politely as he pauses at the table, next to the woman that joined us. “Something wrong?”

I’ve known the lad in passing really; not long enlisted he has climbed ranks at a suitable pace for his age. Anderson has him pegged for the N7 initiative if he holds his momentum.

“I just heard a rumour that you’re a biotic? Is that true sir?” I close my eyes as pain erupts in the centre of my head, so sharp and strong I feel my hands curl into fists – the metal of my fork crushing into the skin on my palm. “Sir?” Jenkins presses, and beside me I can hear Joker chuckle.

“Are you a biotic sir?” He asks again and I swallow, trying to make the pain subside, trying to overcome it enough to answer him.

“Are you a bio- oh! No way!” He cries, the pain flaring with sudden noise “Where did you get CHICKEN from?!” He cries reaching for my plate.

I don’t know what happens. Whether it is my temper, defending my food or just annoyance at being pestered I don’t think I will ever be sure. But when I see that hand reaching for my chicken something inside me bursts; like a water balloon, or a trapped pipe and when I reach to slap his hand away instead I slap him with biotics – the blue hue unmistakable as the Corporal goes rigid from the impact, jerking across the canteen to crash against the table he had been sitting at.

There is commotion – shouting, as soldiers rise form the table and give me wondering glares. I swallow; the accident has brought unwanted attention my way. I didn’t want it to be common knowledge I was a biotic, biotics are still classed as freaks among the general populous; I had hoped to start life on the Normandy with that one kept to myself.

“Jenkins!” I hear Dr Chakwas cry as she drops beside him.

I stand, ready to apologise when there is movement and Jenkins gets shakily to his feet. “That was AWESOME!” He cries, raising his arms to pump the air. I pause, rubbing the back of my neck as the migraine intensifies against the roaring response of the crowd. Suitably forgotten again as they swarm the Corporal I sit back down, hoping to have the rest of my lunch in peace.

“That was awesome.” Joker grins beside me, “Did you like that?” He asks the woman across the table with a lewd grin “An awesome display of manliness and strength.” He concludes with a horrid wink and I groan inwardly as the woman curls a lip in response. Seeing he’s getting nowhere he turns to me and sighs “I bet women biotics are a riot in the sack.” He smiles.

In that instant I feel a change to the air – like a pulse, as the hairs on my arms stand on end. Joker cries out; grabbing his chair as it is lifted in the air, hovering level with the table and I feel panic flutter into my gut. If he were to break a bone now there is no way they would let him pilot the Normandy. Joker has been waiting his whole life for this. I focus, reaching out to the chair and forcing it back to the floor gently. The strain is immense, and I glance around for the biotic who has initiated this tug of war.

It’s that woman. The one who sat across from us.

I push with all my might, the chair teetering so close to the ground, but she is immensely powerful. She glares at me, the ferocity in those blue eyes captivating, and I glare back – there is no way I’m backing down. Not now. Not ever.

She wrenches to her feet, her chair toppling back behind her, the blue glow of biotics swirling around her as she changes her focus, charging for an attack. I get to my feet – determined to show I will not back down from a threat, feeling my skin begin to prickle and tighten as my own biotics swirl and dance around me. I grit my teeth as she raises a hand in preparation.

“Stand down!” The voice is heavy, commanding and immediately the blue hum winks out of her. I take a breath, letting it go to find we have a crowd of people watching the scene. Captain Anderson clears his throat and I snap a salute to him, the woman folds her arms over her chest. I glare at her with contempt – how could she be so informal?!

“Alenko,” The Captain says idly “Get her bags.”

I blink… did he just say..?

Then he is walking off, the woman by his side and I am left to pick her bag from the chair. I try to keep myself calm as I yank it free, unable to hide the annoyance from my gesture. Then I see the letters stamped into the khaki green of the material S.R. Cooper with a dark line through the name and underneath written in thick black letters Commander A. Shepard. I close my eyes.

Oh shit.

“So why don’t you just ask her out and get it over with.” Joker said and Kaidan flinched brought out of his reverie “What’s holding you back? If she doesn’t like you she’ll soon let you know about it.”

“I…” Kaidan shook his head “She’s a little outta my league Joker.” He confessed, smiling.

Joker blinked, pressing his hands to the breast pocket of his jacket, then to his jeans, as he glanced around the floor for lost credits. Sighing Kaidan took a step back, helping him search, he didn’t look drunk enough to start dropping money.

“What have you lost?” Kaidan asked, turning to glance down the steps in case it was dropped on their way up.

“Nothing.” Joker retorted sharply “I was looking for your balls. I’m sure when I met you, you had some.”

Kaidan paused, giving him a withering look before finishing the last of his drink. He was not about to discuss it with Joker – who saw everything in the world almost black and white. He didn’t like grey, but Kaidan seemed to live in a perpetual world of grey.

“Here they are.” Joker said, peering over the top of the Quasar machine at the women who had just entered Flux. Ashley was laughing, her arm looped through Shepard’s as she steered them toward the bar. Kaidan pressed a hand to his chest absently, as he watched them – watched Shepard to be more accurate.

She looked stunning in figure hugging jeans and a white spaghetti-strap top. It was so casual it took his breath from him to see her out of uniform. She leaned into Ashley at the bar; laughing as she spoke and Kaidan wished it could be him she was speaking to. Always him. He would do anything to hear her laugh like that with him, to see that light in her eyes.

He was in love, and the thought terrified him.

“You might want to tuck your tongue into your belt before someone trips on it.” Joker mumbled beside him, finishing his game and collecting his card to push back into his combats. “Let’s go and get some drinks with them.” He announced; for once Kaidan agreed.