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There was a list in front of her. The blinking light of the cursor on an empty line taunted her with its rhythm. She tore her eyes away from the emptiness and extended her finger to tap on the top line, crossing it off.
Save the Primarch’s son.
Done.
Cassidy closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly. A turian life, narrowed down to a line item on an ever-increasing list of errands and favors.
Grazing her finger over the scar running above her left eye, a nervous habit she picked up during her N7 training, she glanced down at the next item on her list. Her long list.
It felt like every day she was adding three things and checking off one. Like she was swimming forward in gelatin and the suction was pulling her back further every time she moved her arms. She felt like she was drowning.
The music was playing from her bedside softly, but her cabin still felt deathly quiet and otherworldly still. She didn’t love spending so much time up here, under the canopy of space she could almost feel the gas escaping from her breather in the sky above Alchera. But at the moment, this was the only place she could get any paperwork done. Her ship felt like it was full to the brim with Alliance operatives, turian fleet soldiers guarding the Primarch, and the random krogan lurking around – Wrex’s response to being surrounded by diplomats. Even Chakwas was ousted from her usual perch by Mordin, and for such a small man, he seemed to take up a lot of space.
She needed to tell Joker where to go next. She needed to get a team together. She needed to sleep. She needed to stop the reapers. She needed to build diplomacy. She needed to get help from people who refused to talk to her. She needed to… she needed to…
She needed to call her mom. Hannah Shepard always knew just what to say to her. But she hadn’t heard from her mother since she left Earth. She called almost every day, hoping to get a response, but it was so hard to get a signal anywhere on Earth, and she wasn’t sure where Hannah might have ended up during the invasion.
The younger Shepard crossed her arms on her desk and rested her head atop them. She could feel her ginger hair drape over the skin of her upper arms. It itched, just a little, keeping her grounded. Keeping her awake. She just wished she could sleep.
She missed her mom. But until the rear admiral responded to her messages – and she did have faith a response would come – that wasn’t an option.
Cassidy lifted her head up straight, then to one side and then the other, cracking her neck. Rotating her right shoulder, she stood. She couldn’t call her mom, but she could call Anderson. He wasn’t her father, but she’d known him most of her life, and wasn’t that practically the same thing? He was there for all the big moments in her life: when she learned to ride a hover-bike – when she broke her first bone falling from the hover-bike three weeks later, when she enlisted, when she made N7…
He’d been extremely good about staying in contact with her, lucky enough to have almost constant access to the quantum entanglement communicator in Vancouver. And he’d been pretty adamant about receiving updates on her progress. He’d probably like to hear about how close she was to getting the turians and krogan on her side.
Yeah, she’d call him and talk through everything, and by the end of their conversation she’d have clarity. Talking to David always seemed to give her some kind of insight on the situation. It’s why they had worked so well together when she was his XO.
***
She had made it down to the war room with limited interruptions. She had to pause and correct a misconception one of the door guards had gossiped about to her friend, but that wasn’t exactly out of the norm and passed relatively quickly.
Crossing the war room was like crossing a minefield, and she was stopped three times by different personnel, all with different questions. She answered them as succinctly as she could, but it still felt like it dragged on. Too much to do, too much happening, when was the last time she had slept? When was the last time she ate? Another question about the reapers to answer, another errand to run, another person to convince to drop everything and work on a top-secret project that she couldn’t even fully explain had she wanted to.
She just had to focus on one thing at a time. Just the next thing. She had to call David. Then things would clear themselves up, just talk to David, and then she’d know what the next thing needed to be. Just…
She ended the conversation with the Ensign in front of her a little briskly, but she just couldn’t stand there and explain the same things over again. Waving over the Private she had just spoken to, she directed him to pass on the explanation and walked forward.
Down the path, into the comm room. Just one button press away.
It didn’t connect.
That was fine, service was rough down on Earth, even with the latest quantum tech. Just give it a minute and call again. It didn’t mean anything.
She ran her finger across her scar again.
She tried the call again.
It didn’t connect. Again. And again.
Give it a minute, Cassidy. Let the interference pass. That’s all it was, interference.
She moved away from the panel and grasped onto the railing separating the holopad from the walkway. Her fingers wrapped around the metal bar so tightly that her knuckles were white. She itched to pull her list up again. She knew it wouldn’t help.
There, that had to be long enough. She released the bar with an energy she tried to keep off her face. Wouldn’t do to have people notice it.
She tried the call again, and watched it connect with Vancouver. She let out a breath, realizing that she had been holding it just as the connection went live.
The hologram static sprung to life, but when it cleared it wasn’t David standing there.
“Normandy? Is that you, Normandy?” It wasn’t a voice Cassidy recognized. It wasn’t a face she recognized either.
“Normandy here. Commander Shepard speaking.”
“Ahh, Commander.” The hologram snapped off a salute. It felt wrong seeing that formality through the hazy blue. “Is there something we can do for you?”
Cassidy felt her jaw twitch. “Is Admiral Anderson available?”
“No, Ma’am.” The reply was straightforward, but the man behind the hologram seemed nervous. He reached across his body to fidget with the sleeve on his opposite arm. Cassidy felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
“Do you know when he will be available?”
“No, Ma’am.” He responded again, shifting his weight. “He went out on a distress call approximately 34 hours ago and has not yet returned. We are unsure when he’ll be back at base.”
Her every muscle froze. 34 hours. Too long to be normal, too short to be worrying. The no man’s land of time frames.
“Thank you…” she trailed off in her automatic response, realizing she didn’t even know this stranger’s title. A part of her brain realized the futility. Did titles even really matter in a war this size? She could hear a ringing voice come from the back of her skull, her mother’s voice, telling her that respect always matters.
“Private Jackson, ma’am.” He filled in for her.
She nodded robotically. “Private Jackson. Thank you for letting me know.” She swallowed, but knew she needed to remain professional here. She wasn’t a person to these soldiers, she was a symbol. That had been made explicitly clear to her. “When he returns,” she continued, with a confidence she didn’t feel, “let him know I called.”
“Of course, Commander.”
“And good luck down there, Private. Keep fighting the good fight. You’re doing important work.”
He straightened his posture immediately and saluted again. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Cassidy closed the line. So much for knowing the next thing. So much for clarity.
She couldn’t talk to her mom. She couldn’t talk to David. Next down the list of people she knew would keep her focused was her boyfriend. And she knew just where to find him, too.
***
Exiting the war room went a lot quicker than entering. Perhaps it was her posture; she knew her face was clear – it was a herculean effort, though well worth it – but she could feel her fingernails dig into her palms on both hands, a clear giveaway that her fists were clenched.
The elevator was blessedly empty, and Cassidy reveled in the brief span of time without eyes on her, waiting for her command and waiting for her to save them.
She would. She had to.
But first, she needed just one person in her life to get her out of these spiraling thoughts. To get her back on track and back to herself. This pressure was getting to her in a way she didn’t like. But she trusted the people she chose to surround herself with to keep her on the right path.
A path. Paths like the ones on the floor of the Normandy, surrounded by lights and clear under her feet. Not paths looping and turning through the woods of her brain, ones with forks and blind curves, and no destination in sight.
Destination. Main battery. Boyfriend.
It had been a swift turn, to be sure, from best friend to boyfriend all those months ago. But it had been so different from all of the other changes happening around her. It solidified her placement, her understanding of the universe around her. It had felt like everything clicked into place in that one moment, sitting on crates, watching him flounder for a second before flirting back.
In one moment, everything seemed like it would be ok.
And that’s exactly the type of moment Cassidy needed now. The doors to the battery slid open in front of her and she was met with the beautiful view of her boyfriend’s back as he fiddled with the calibrations. He didn’t turn, although he definitely heard the doors open, and that trust hit her chest like a wave of warmth.
He felt at home here. He felt safe here. And just like that, so did she.
“Can we talk for a second?” she heard herself say, voice strong.
“Can it wait for a bit?” He started to turn to face her. “I’m in the middle of-” He stopped suddenly when he saw her face. Grazing his eyes over hers and down her body, she could feel his appraisal as clearly as if he was touching her. “Everything alright, Cassidy?”
She just shrugged gently. “Is it ever?”
Garrus gestured her over, closer to him as he moved toward the side of the room, down one of the aisles next to the main gun. She could feel the air move as the door closed behind her.
Once they were sufficiently tucked away, Garrus turned back toward her and placed his hands on her shoulders. With that contact, she could feel the vibrations of his next words, and wondered if that was what subvocals sounded like. “What happened?”
She glanced away from him. “Anderson’s been out on a mission for a while; hasn’t reported back. Earth feels like it’s falling, and I’m out here checking things off a list like I’m doing my Sunday chores.”
Garrus was quiet for a moment, rocking back and forth slightly as he considered what she’d said. He looked at her, the woman he had and would continue to follow into hell. She had always seemed so unflappable in the heat of battle, so focused.
But in this moment, in her fear and tension, her vulnerability, he felt like he could really do something for her in a way she had always done everything for him.
Lifting one hand to rub her cheek, gently enough to not bother her soft human skin with his chitinous exoskeleton, he softened his subvocals and said, “You want to go shoot something?”
***
They headed down toward the cargo bay where the target range had been set up. It was technically supposed to be for weapons testing, and it was technically only supposed to be used by Cortez in his role as a requisitions officer, but that had only lasted about as long as it took Vega to find it.
Pretty soon everyone had been sampling the incoming firearm options on the targets, and Adams and EDI had spent some time setting up the targets on moving hooks so the distance could be set from the console.
Both Garrus and Shepard had used it, although Shepard tended to only use it for the purpose it was designed for – testing new weapons to determine which she liked best before bringing them into the field.
But they had never gone down to shoot together, and for good reason. Anyone who had joined the two of them on mission had seen their lovingly competitive nature. Garrus’ visor kept a kill count for the entire team, and yet they both still felt the need to argue about who downed more husks every time a wave passed. The ‘conversations’ would get heated, and even before they had moved their relationship from platonic to romantic, there was a significant tension in the air between them.
They had both independently decided to not bring that onto the ship, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and Garrus was desperate to get Cassidy’s mind off of her stress for at least this one moment.
The two best shooters on the ship strode out of the elevator on deck four with purpose and made their way over to the weapon console. The reaction was almost immediate, which was no surprise on a ship as close knit as the Normandy – scuttlebutt ran rampant on a normal day – and pretty soon word had spread to every deck.
Shepard had barely picked up her favorite N7 Eagle when the elevator opened again and Wrex stormed in, dragging Liara behind him. And they were only the first. Soon practically the whole ship was down there, just leaning against walls, sitting on crates, watching as Garrus stood casually, carefully assembling his Widow.
“Are we putting on a show?” Garrus asked his girlfriend, eyeing their growing audience.
Shepard ignored him and turned to her crew. “Don’t you all have jobs to do?”
“And miss this? Absolutely not.” came the response from Kenneth. “Someone please tell me they’re taking bets.”
Wrex let out a loud, boisterous laugh. “Absolutely. 20 credits on Garrus.”
“Please,” Liara responded, rolling her eyes. “Shepard can definitely win this thing.”
“I wasn’t aware we were competing.” Garrus muttered, mostly to himself.
“You should know that, Wrex,” Liara continued, defending her friend. “You’ve been in the field with her. Shepard never misses a shot.”
Cassidy just laughed. “Don’t worry, Li. Wrex has no leg to stand on, he’s only here because he’s hiding from Mordin.” Wrex just grumbled in response. “Alright, Garrus,” she continued. “I guess this is a competition now. Anyone want to pick a rule set?”
Dr. Chakwas was the one to answer first. “You should play Horse.”
Garrus looked confused. “Horse? The Earth mammal?”
Chakwas thought for a moment, and stated, “I believe turians have a similar game, although you may call it Titan.”
Garrus nodded. “Oh, sure. One of us takes a shot and the other has to match it or else they get a letter. First one to titan loses.”
Shepard cocked her pistol. “Then you’re gonna have to drop the scope, buddy. Single shot pistols for this game.”
Garrus’ mandibles fluttered confidently. “I don’t need a scope to beat you, Commander.”
There was a murmur from the peanut gallery, but Shepard just tossed her head back with a laugh. Garrus watched her, taking in how loose she seemed. Already his distraction technique seemed to be working.
He walked over to the shelves in the back corner, glancing over the pistol options before grabbing the Carnifex.
“And, since you’re not super comfortable with a pistol,” Garrus scoffed at Cassidy’s assertion, “I’ll even give you the first shot.”
“How kind of you.”
The targets were set at 50 meters away. After a quick rehashing of the specifics of the rules – and making compromises where they differed between cultures, it was decided that the targets could be moved, but both Garrus and Shepard had to stay within a set space.
“And then the first one to ‘horse’ loses.”
“Absolutely not. The game is called Titan.”
And this sparked another conversation, with more than one member from the crowd chiming in to fight for one side or another.
Finally, Shepard held up a hand, and the crowd went silent. “Alright. Let’s just pick a word that’s neutral. It just needs five letters.”
Garrus hummed. “Something on the ship would work.”
There was silence for just a moment before Shepard grinned widely. “Joker has five letters. The first one to ‘Joker’ is the loser.”
She could hear an insulted ‘Hey!’ from over to one side of the room and she chuckled.
“Perfect. It certainly makes sense,” Garrus responded, prompting another ‘Hey!’ from the man they both considered a good friend.
Garrus stood for a moment, looking at the targets, considering how to start the game. He picked a shot, straight-forward but unexpected, at the top left corner. Close enough to the edge that the corner of the target page was ripped off.
Shepard watched him, taking in the line of his back, the extension of his arms. She had never really seen him use a pistol before, as he preferred bigger weapons in the field. She knew he had experience with one, they were standard issue for C-Sec, but the sight itself was new. And not unwelcome, she thought, getting distracted for a moment.
Garrus glanced back over at her and she was snapped back into the moment. She looked at the target and took in his shot. “Going easy on me Garr?” she asked, a grin spread across her face.
“Just thought we’d start out simple. In case you needed a warm up.”
Cassidy rolled her eyes, lined up her shot and took a breath. Once the breath was fully released, the top left corner of her target page had been ripped clean off. "Nope. Looks like I’m fine.”
And then the game began in truth. Targets were moved, trick shots were attempted, teases were thrown back and forth, usually accompanied by a wink or a twitching mandible. Garrus was the first to miss a shot, and the second. By the time Garrus was up to JOKE and Shepard was still at zero, Traynor had to make an announcement that all bets were final, and would people please stop trying to change them.
Shepard watched as Liara taunted Wrex as she made the last shot, hitting the dead center on two targets held in an angled line. But on Garrus’ turn, Shepard’s attention was solely on her boyfriend’s form. It was flawless, and Cassidy let herself watch him for a moment, let the entire crew fade away into the background, as if it was just them.
It hadn’t been just the two of them since that moment just after the Collector base, back on the not-terrifying side of the omega four relay, when Garrus had come up for a drink and a moment of peaceful silence. And she had never really been able to fully appreciate how he shoots, considering he usually was only shooting because they were under fire and her attention was therefore elsewhere.
But here, she watched as he lined up the shot, as he reached up and readjusted his visor, and he lowered his center of gravity. She watched him and could almost feel the texture of his exoskeleton under her fingers. And just in the moment, it was more than just the crew gone. It was the whole galaxy, vanishing around them, the whole war, all of her responsibilities. In that moment, watching him line up a shot she knew was going to go just a hair wide, she felt herself relax entirely.
And then she got to watch her boyfriend, the love of her life, lose a shooting competition that he challenged her to.
She was brought back to the present by the sounds of the crowd as half of them celebrated and half groaned.
For her part, Cassidy just grinned and winked at Garrus. He shook his head, looking at her with fondness.
But just as the crew suddenly reappeared in her worldview, so too did the rest of the galaxy. So too did the rest of her responsibilities.
She stood there, as Chakwas directed the crew to return to their posts, with a smile slowly slipping off of her face. She pasted one on when Liara came up to her with a congratulations, and Wrex grumbled the same, but soon they too were gone and the cargo bay was filled with nothing but silence and a sudden sense of overwhelming pressure.
Garrus watched her as she inwardly started to crumble. Her face held steady, the face of a woman on a mission. But he knew her better than that, and he could see that her temporary relief was fading.
In less than a second, he had pulled her in his arms. She brought her arms tight around his waist and leaned into his touch.
“You’ll get through this.”
She didn’t respond for a moment. To be honest, she wasn’t entirely sure she would. She wasn’t entirely sure if she even wanted to. What would be left after this? She was 32 years old – 30 if you didn’t count the two years she was dead – and the entire universe was resting on her shoulders. Her mother was MIA, her make-shift father was MIA, and everyone was looking to her. What could possibly be expected of her after this?
But this moment was enough. She didn’t need to think about what would come next. Not the next thing on her ever-growing list, not the next battle, not even the next war after whatever was going to happen with this one happens.
So, she shifted herself further into her caring boyfriend’s arms, and mumbled, “We’ll get through this. Together.”