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"I’m home!" Eva called out as she pushed the front door closed behind her. When she and Kaidan had designed this house, they’d wanted it to look and feel as little like a ship as possible, and that meant no sliding doors. Some of their friends made fun of them for having the lowest-tech house out there, but it suited them just fine.
She stuck her head into the kitchen as she passed. No sign of him, but there was something that smelled wonderful in the oven, so he was home. Before continuing her search, she hung back, her eyes lingering tenderly on the plants, the tchotchkes, the art on the walls. She loved the way the early afternoon sunlight streamed in through the large windows at this time of year. Sometimes she couldn’t believe they’d lived here for almost three years. More than any other place she’d lived, this felt like home. Moving in had marked the beginning of a new chapter of her life: retired from active duty, assisting the Alliance in an advisory capacity only. Kaidan was working as a consultant now too, helping to redesign curriculums for the Alliance’s biotic training programs, which were being overhauled for a post-Reaper world. He sometimes worked closely with Jack, and his feelings toward her had mirrored Eva's when they'd first met.
"She’s brilliant, and her biotics are on another level," he’d said over dinner one evening, "but she’s so damn abrasive. It’s like she goes out of her way to try to make people not like her. You know what she calls me?"
"Tell me."
"Lamb. Cause, you know, Shepard. She’ll say are you lost, lamb? Where’s your shepherd?"
Eva had burst out laughing. "That’s so stupid. She’s slipping, she used to have better material."
"It is stupid," he’d said, puffed up with mock indignation. "We’re supposed to be coworkers, for god’s sake. She knows she’s untouchable because she’s a war hero, so she says whatever she wants."
"She’s always been like that, being a war hero has nothing to do with it. Does it really bother you that much?"
He'd smiled at her somewhat sheepishly. "No, not really. I know she's just trying to wind me up. Besides, I do always feel a little lost without you."
Eva ascended the stairs at the back of the house slowly, examining the photos on the walls, feeling unusually sentimental. Printed photos - along with decorative frames in a variety of styles - had come back into vogue in the years after the war, part of a low-tech revolution that had swept Earth. Physical media had become more popular than it had been in centuries, with printed books and magazines suddenly in high demand. Some theorized it was a practical response to the series of power and extranet blackouts caused by the massive EMPs emitted by the Crucible, while still others attributed it to an unconscious cultural rejection of modern technology after organic life had nearly been wiped out by machines. Eva wasn't sure who was right, but she knew she liked having real pictures. They were much less frequent now, but during the outages, it had always been nice to see the faces of her friends smiling out at her instead of empty grey squares all over the walls.
There were photos of Normandy and her crew; Eva and Kaidan's wedding in Stanley Park, with the burnt out shells of skyscrapers in the background; a medal ceremony which had taken place a year to the day after the defeat of the Reapers, when she and her entire crew had received the highest honours bestowed by the Alliance; a housewarming party they’d had here shortly after moving in, which had gone on for two days and somehow been even rowdier than the infamous party at her apartment on the Citadel. At the top of the stairs were photos of some of the friends they’d lost. Eva touched a few of the frames, her heart full of the familiar mixture of gratitude and grief she’d felt so often since the end of the war.
Pausing outside Kaidan’s office, she heard voices: a man and a woman. Who did he have over, and why were they up here with the door closed? A kernel of suspicion began to grow in her gut; she’d never questioned his fidelity, but this was odd.
She pushed open the door and saw him sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, listening to an audio file playing on his terminal.
Sometimes I think I should feel guilty about being this happy. It seems almost unfair with how much pain and suffering is going on all over the place. Do you think it’s wrong that we feel this way?
Eva stood in the doorway dumbfounded, recognizing Kaidan’s voice in the recording. She remembered this conversation: they’d been in her cabin on Normandy, just days before the final showdown in London.
No. It’s not like we can help it, but even if we could. Everyone deserves a chance to feel this; we’re doing everything we can to make sure people keep getting to.
"Kaidan?"
He jumped half a foot into the air, scrambled to turn off the recording, then looked at her, red-faced.
"You’re home early," he said, moving to embrace her. The action was automatic, it didn’t matter that he was embarrassed; he hadn’t held her in three days, and that was far too long already. "I wasn't expecting you until tonight."
"I know," she said, returning his embrace and kissing his cheek, "we wrapped things up last night so I took an early flight this morning. What was that?"
"That was, uh, exactly what it sounded like," he said awkwardly. Kaidan didn’t have a deceptive bone in his body, unable - or unwilling, which came down to the same thing - to lie to her, even in an attempt to spare himself some discomfort. She loved that about him. "A recording of a conversation we had a few years ago."
"Okay… but why?"
Kaidan mumbled something about missing the sound of her voice. He'd stepped back and was leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, eyes on the floor.
"I'm not mad," Eva said gently, putting her arms around him. "Just help me understand. Why do you have a recording of a conversation we had?"
"It's not the only one I have," he said feebly, then turned to the terminal. A few taps later, the screen displayed a folder full of audio files with names like Moms_12_25_86 and London_11_07_87. There were dozens of files, dating from the middle of the war to about two years ago.
Eva tapped on several of the files at random, listening to the beginning of each recording.
This is our first real Christmas together, you know? Thank you for spending it here with me.
It's been really great. I'm happy I got to meet your mom.
We should put a sunroom on the south side of the house. I think it would be nice to have some big plants.
We can do whatever you want, babe. Just don’t get too discouraged when it rains all the time, this is BC after all.
Don't be nervous, you've got this. You saved the galaxy, giving a speech is nothing you can't handle.
I’m sure you're right. Will you listen to me practice again anyway?
I can't believe we're getting married tomorrow.
I know. I'm so happy everyone was able to make it. We're so lucky.
The recordings varied from mundane, everyday conversations to long-winded discussions about their feelings; the only consistency was that it was always just their voices.
"Why do you have all of these?" Eva asked.
"When you died," Kaidan began, taking both of her hands in his, "I had almost nothing to remember us by, just that picture we took on our trip to Illium. It was so hard, having to mask my grief, having to act like I wasn't completely in love with you. I felt so alone." His voice hitched and he went silent for a moment, looking down at their clasped hands. He ran his thumb over the wedding band on her left, seeming to take comfort in the gesture, then took a deep breath.
"When we got back together, everything was still so uncertain. I was terrified of losing you again. I started using my omni-tool to record some of our conversations so I’d always have them to remember your voice, no matter what happened. I stopped a while ago, it just didn’t seem necessary anymore, but I still listen to them sometimes when you aren't here." He paused again, then finally looked up at her. "It’s creepy, and I shouldn't have done it without your permission. I was afraid you'd say no, but I still should've asked. I'm sorry."
"Hell yes it’s creepy, but I'm not mad about it. I actually kinda love it," she said, meaning every word. Kaidan loved with an intensity that was unmatched by anyone else she'd ever known. It might have been off-putting to some, but not her. "You really miss me that much when I’m not here?"
"Yeah. You know how dogs get, what do they call it, separation anxiety?"
"You're not a dog, Kaidan."
"I know," he said, smiling wryly. "That's just the best way I can describe it. Sometimes when you aren’t here, I start having these awful thoughts, like what if you never came home… I know it’s pretty pathetic. Hearing your voice always makes me feel better."
Eva put her arms around him again. "Why don’t you just call me? I can always step away for a minute to talk to you."
Kaidan shook his head. "No, that would be silly. Comms are still spotty, I’m not gonna tie up a connection for something like that. I can handle it, I’m just relieved you aren’t mad."
"Not at all. But you know I’m not going anywhere, right?"
He smiled, his soft brown eyes warm and affectionate. "I know."