Chapter Text
18 October 1942, Nine Elms, London, England
“Is it wrong to have found such happiness in the middle of a war?” He lifted the glass tumbler, turning it so the amber liquid flickered and sparkled brighter than any star in the night sky thanks to the flames behind it. “We could die on our next mission – tomorrow – and all I care about is the next minute, hour, day that we have together.”
Warm laughter rumbled beneath his ear just before a hand sought out his, fingers interlocking as they joined. “You’re turning philosophical on me again, mo ghrá,”** Shepard rumbled while bringing their joined hands to his lips to kiss Kaidan’s knuckles.
A lopsided smile spread lazily across Kaidan’s lips even as warmth filled his cheeks thanks to the whiskey, the gentle teasing, or even the fire, he wasn’t certain which. Or - maybe - he was just that happy.
Shepard’s lips moved to Kaidan’s temple next. Turning into the contact, Kaidan sighed. Moments like this, away from the constant stress of the war, the two of them alone together, were the ones he treasured most. Moments where they had the freedom to be themselves, to explore their growing relationship and the connection they shared without the judgmental eyes of the rest of the world upon them. Never had he thought to find this in his lifetime, let alone in the middle of a world falling apart around them.
But Fate had been kind the day She’d sent this stubborn Irish commander across the fields of France, merging their paths and bringing them together.
The logical, practical side of him wondered at what cost – eventually there would be one, there always was – while his more fanciful side did its best to ignore it.
Lifting his head until he could fuse his lips to Shepard’s, Kaidan countered softly, “You have much to admire, коханий…”**
~
He awoke with a start and a jerk, thanks to firm knuckles thumping on the door. Bolting upright, fear racing through his body, he nearly fell out of bed.
Until a gentle, feminine voice called out, “Commander Alenko? Sir? Are you awake?”
Reality returned uninvited, unwelcome and with the weight of a ton of bricks. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Kaidan dropped his legs over the side of the bed. “Yes.”
The door creaked allowing a bright, thin beam of light from the hall inside followed by the lieutenant. The soft lilt of her voice as well as the silhouetted outline of her brought recognition, but along with it, stirred the ache from which he had been hiding these past seven months. “What…time is it?” he asked when he could manage a steady voice.
“Nearing half-eight, sir,” Lieutenant Serafina MacKinnon announced, setting a tray on the small table in the corner before turning towards him. “I’ve brought you some tea.”
Tea.
A glass of whiskey was far more tempting and The Crown & Lion served the best available during the war but if he was to be on duty in less than an hour, tea would have to do.
He rose to his feet, pausing before joining her. She stepped to one side to give him access to the tray, but she didn’t leave the room.
The thing about routine was that it was easy to notice when part of it was missing. Large or small, it was just enough to throw him off his stride even when he wasn’t at a hundred percent.
It took a moment – two sips of the hot, bracing liquid – before it hit him. Frowning at the tray, he asked, “Do you have the shift notes?”
The quiet of the room roared loudly in his head before she replied, “About that, sir...”
To be fair, he had been expecting this, if he was honest with himself. Still, apprehension surged, putting him on alert and leaving him breathless. Seven months. Forever and yet hardly any time at all, but that was fine. He could handle the repercussions, whatever they might be. What concerned him more was who had pushed for it.
In that same, gentle tone that now exhibited true concern, the lieutenant asked, “Do you not think it would be best to go home and get a restful night’s sleep, sir?”
Kaidan set his tea aside and narrowed his gaze on her. She had a way about her, asking particularly difficult questions in such a way as to not make a situation worse, taking the sting out of them.
But the fact remained, he understood exactly what she was asking. “Who?”
“Sir?”
“Who put you up to this?” Turning, he faced her.
The darkness masked ebony curls and sympathetic blue eyes. Kaidan had always found her to be intelligent, quick-witted, and polite. But today…her purpose was different today. She wasn’t just a member of the Normandy Group, assisting with the analysis of ciphers or other intelligence. Today, he was her target, on a mission instigated by someone else higher up.
“I’m…not sure I understand.”
She was more patient than most as well, which ultimately, she used to ferret out details others did not notice. Part of the reason Shepard brought her on board to begin with.
“Who put you up to this? Approaching me about going home?” he asked. “Was it Anderson? Pressly? Reg?"
To her credit, she stood her ground and did not cower from such directness. “It was all of us, sir. The Normandy Group as a whole. We…” White teeth shone brightly but briefly in the darkness as she drew her lower lip between them. “We’ve already lost Commander Shepard. We don’t want to lose you, as well.”
Kaidan considered that for a moment. “You think Anderson will pull me from the spectres?”
“No, sir,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “We’re afraid without proper rest you’ll not be at your best for the next mission, whatever that might be. And if you aren’t at your best… Well, difficult decisions are that much harder to make.”
He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair and sighed. Liara was behind this. Or Garrus, maybe. It had to be one of them. Their concern did not bother him – had their positions been reversed, he would have done the same – but he hated the attempt at manipulation.
Or, maybe he just hated that they were right. For months now, Kaidan had avoided going home. There were too many memories, too many ghosts, and in all honesty, having to face them would be a far more difficult battle than fighting this war.
The events at Alchera had changed everything, and because of that, Kaidan had chosen to stay here, at The Crown & Lion, rather than go back to the house he and Shepard had shared. “What makes you think going back to the house will help?” He winced at the snarl he could not hide.
Serafina did not react. Instead, she rested a hand on his forearm just long enough to squeeze. In a voice so soft he could barely hear her, she said, “I know what it’s like to unexpectedly lose someone you care so much about. The pain, the anger, the unfairness of it all.” She paused to take a deep breath. “I also know you have to face your grief at some point, or it will eat you alive. Better to do it now and learn how to start living again than lead to your own destruction. Don’t you think?”
As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. Had Shepard been here, he would have insisted Kaidan go home to rest.
Then again, Shepard was not here and that was the root of the problem. If he had been, the need would not exist.
“Sir?”
The simple fact of the matter was he was not ready to face a life alone. He was afraid. All that lay in front of him from here on out was pain.
But the Normandy Group were Shepard’s people – no, his people now – and it appeared all of them were behind this intervention. If he chose not to go along with it, they would likely turn to Anderson next, and the last thing Kaidan needed was the captain getting involved.
Sighing again, he rubbed his temple, feeling the beginnings of a headache there. “Yes?”
“Joker is waiting for you downstairs.”
Joker.
Shepard’s driver – Kaidan’s driver now – had been fairly subdued since Alchera as well. What were the odds it would stay that way if – and it was a big IF – he went home?
He was damned whatever he chose. So, which is the lesser of the two evils presented?
Crossing the room to where he kept his duffle, Kaidan started collecting his things. “Give me a few minutes and I will be down…”
~
The door was red. An outlandish color for the main entryway of a house and certainly not a color Kaidan would have chosen, if asked, but the house did not belong to him, so he had to live with it.
It’s yours now, mo ghrá…
He had been standing there staring at that damned door for a good quarter of an hour, key fisted tight in his hand, shoulders trembling for the past five of them as he sought the nerve to unlock it.
I have to do this. I cannot hide forever, cannot ignore he is no longer here. Life goes on even if we do not want it to…
Discipline was not something Kaidan had ever had a problem with in the past – the incident with Vyrnnus aside – but the effort it took to approach the front door now was, perhaps, the most difficult challenge he had ever faced. Every single memory he and Shepard shared in this place came rushing back to haunt him, one after another after another, like a private film reel of events.
Joker waiting out front; automobile running, jokes cracking, his favorite comic lying on the seat next to him…
The hint of red in Shepard’s cheeks as he stepped out of the house into the sunlight the only sign of their hasty and breathless last kiss before exiting…
The scent of late season snow on a cool, early spring breeze, a promise for later in the day…
One last private smile between them as Shepard held the automobile’s door open for Kaidan; the sparkle of absolute happiness almost hidden beneath Shepard’s professional soldier’s demeanor…
“Shepard,” Kaidan whispered as panic started to rise, leaving a sour taste in the back of his throat, “I cannot do this…”
Yes, mo ghrá, you can…
Damn, he should have stayed at The Crown & Lion.
Luckily for him, this late of an evening, most people were tucked away inside their homes and were not witness to him foundering. Taking several slow, deep breaths, he forced himself forward, put the key into the lock and opened it just a crack.
The cold hands of darkness greeted him as he stepped over the threshold. It had been months since they left – more than half a year – and though summer bled into an early autumn, any warmth was long gone and left him chilled.
He paused just long enough in the entryway to set his things aside before slowly working his way into the main part of the house, hand fumbling along the walls to find the light switch as he went. Though light filled the room, it did little to chase away the darkness and even less the chill surrounding his heart.
Everything was quiet and…empty. A wave of loneliness rose, engulfing Kaidan, and he had to wait for it to subside before moving deeper into the house.
The rooms were as they had left them; neat and clean, if somewhat dusty after months of inattention. There was also a hint of dampness, but a fire would take care of that and the chill. Heading across the room, Kaidan set to lighting a fire. The memories were nearly overwhelming, and he fumbled twice as he tried to get the flame started, but it finally took hold. Dusting his hands off, he turned his attention towards what he should do next. It would take time for the heat to spread throughout the rooms – well, at least the front rooms – but it would also take the edge off the chill and make things a bit more bearable.
As he straightened, Kaidan came eye-level with a small wooden box resting on the mantle. It was black with an intricately carved knotwork design that Kaidan had spent the past two years attempting to decipher but had had no luck. He had never asked Shepard about it directly, giving him his privacy if he wanted to keep a part of his past to himself, but now he wished he had.
I will never know what it means now.
Eyes locked onto the box; his heart skipped a beat. The memories tied to it were strong – so many memories – he could almost see it in Shepard’s hand, the lid lifting gently as the Irishman scooped the cloth wrapped cards into his other.
Good natured teasing had accompanied the commander’s habit; Garrus arching an eyebrow in curiosity, Wrex’s snorts of disbelief and comparison to Bakara’s own practices with the clan, Liara and her patient understanding always with a smile and nod of approval. Shepard’s cards had come on many a mission with them over the years, giving him, and by association the rest of them, guidance in ways that Kaidan had never truly understood.
Understanding was not necessary, however. Kaidan had experienced it firsthand when he and Shepard had met back in Mindoir. The cards had brought them together, according to Shepard, and it was not something Kaidan could argue against after Shepard had proven their usefulness time and time again.
With Shepard gone, they were the only connection Kaidan had left to him. To their relationship. To their connection. To the man who had made Kaidan feel truly alive for the first time in his life. Human.
Possessed by a need to be close to Shepard even in his absence, to a memory of him if nothing else, Kaidan scooped the cloth covered bundle out of the box and cradled it to his chest. Carrying it across the room, he set it onto the table. Off the shelf nearby, he grabbed a half-drunk bottle of whiskey and a glass and set them next to the cards.
Taking a seat, Kaidan drew in a slow, deep breath and stared at the edges of the fabric while willing himself to reach out and open it. As he tugged the first corner back, it slipped from his fingertips and he let it go, not reaching for it again.
What am I doing? Why am I doing this? I am not the one who understands the meanings of the cards, not like he did.
Kaidan had tried to learn them, and to his credit, Shepard had not given him grief for his lack of understanding. Always patient, Shepard had explained each card thoroughly and the differences with their position each reading he did. He had also been quick to remind Kaidan that it had taken him years to become fully familiar with them.
His fingers twitched as they rested on the table near the edge of the fabric. The need to continue, even though he had doubts, pulled him ever closer. It was a compulsion – no, a need. A need to stay connected. An unwillingness to release his hold on Shepard – or let it release him. Not yet.
Shepard had been the best thing to ever come into his life.
Running his free hand over his face, Kaidan sat there at war with himself. He had to find a way to handle his grief. The lieutenant back at The Crown & Lion had been correct: he needed to come to terms with the loss. But…was this the way he should do it?
Kaidan downed the two-fingers worth of whiskey in one gulp, slamming the glass onto the table as the liquid burned a path to his belly. Then, with a sharp shake of his head, he tried again, gingerly reaching out and pulling back the second corner. The third. The fourth.
He paused and stared again, the faces of the cards upright, the top card mocking him.
Joker…New developments…Fresh starts…New beginning…Risk…
Swallowing tightly, Kaidan took the deck in hand and closed his eyes, the stiff paper cool against his palm. He was familiar enough with this deck – Shepard had done several readings for him with them and each time had asked Kaidan to shuffle and cut the deck before flipping the cards over. Breathing deeply, he split the deck between both hands then bridged them together. As the soft whoosh of the cards slapping and sliding against one another reached his ears, it was almost as if Shepard was here, now, sitting right across the table from him, waiting.
Opening his eyes again, a sliver of disappointment settled in his chest when he found the chair across from him empty. Still, the sound of the rifling cards brought some comfort and he continued until the nearly desperate need faded. Setting the deck face down, he cut them and laid out the top three cards, pushing the rest to the side.
Past. Present. Future.
He poured another two-fingers worth of whiskey into his glass and took a good swallow. Less of a burn this time, he reached out and flipped the first card.
The Past: the five of Diamonds.
It took several moments of concentrated thought to recall the meaning of this card. It was not one that had come up often.
A memory…something about business success in reference to one of their missions and contented family came to mind. At the time, Kaidan had thought perhaps Shepard meant the two of them – and maybe he had, to a point – but it had turned out to be tied to the Normandy Group as a whole instead.
Looking at it now, Kaidan could see how it might refer to his Past. For the two years he and Shepard had lived here and worked together, they had been successful in their search for the prothean data caches.
At least until Saren had stolen them out from under the Council’s noses without warning.
He paused, drawing in a deep steadying breath. It had been that incident that had ultimately led to Alchera, and Kaidan had no desire to retrace those events. There was no point in getting angry over something he could not change.
Reaching for the next card, he flipped it.
The Present: The Jack of Clubs…
White hot anger blinded Kaidan. Shoving his chair back from the table with a curse in his native tongue, he bolted to his feet and swiped his arm across the card display, shoving the tablecloth, the whiskey and the cards to the other end of the table.
“Why?” he shouted to the room, the chair clattering to the floor behind him as he slammed his fist hard on the table. “Why tempt me with this? With him? He is part of my past as much as Vyrnnus is!”
Stumbling away from the table and down the hall to his – their! – bedroom, he threw the door open. The lock that he had held so tightly over his grief had finally come undone and he had no way to stop it. Alone and emotionally defenseless, Kaidan collapsed onto the bed, a keening wail filling the room as he tugged Shepard’s pillow – it still smelled like him! – to his chest and surrendered to the loss.
artwork by MaxRev
~
Daylight peeked brightly around the edges of the blackout curtains when consciousness next found him. Blinking past the pain – head and heart – he sat up and carefully rubbed his face while trying to recall how he had ended up here.
The cards. Shepard. Alchera.
Groaning, he curled up into himself…until the sound of a knock from the front of the house reached his ears. Another groan slipped past his lips, but he forced himself from the bed. The only people who would be at his door right now would be someone from the Alliance or the Normandy Group. The last thing he wanted was to answer it – at least not until he had bathed and dressed – but there was authority in the heavy pounding he could not ignore. Rising, he grabbed his robe and headed towards the sound.
“Kaidan.”
Kaidan blinked, the sunlight leaving him wincing as he found Liara and Garrus standing there. Without a word, he ushered them inside.
Leading the pair into the main part of the house, Liara asked, “How are you?”
Kaidan snorted softly. The house had not quite lost the chill from the evening before and he moved over to restart the now dead fire.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Garrus said.
Something in his friend’s tone gave Kaidan a moment of pause. Liara moved a step towards him, reinforcing it. “We are not here just to visit,” she explained, her expression half-apologetic. “A message arrived and Captain Anderson has asked for you.”
Another wince.
“Not – it is not what you think,” she rushed to add.
Standing over by the table, his gaze focused on the mess there, Garrus clarified, “Anderson and Hackett both want to see you. Something about a mission for us.”
A mission. His first one since…without Shepard.
Kaidan had not been given clearance to run an operation since the fiasco at Alchera.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Kaidan asked, “Do I…have a few minutes to get ready?”
Liara nodded, smiling warmly. “Of course.”
As he retraced his steps to the back of the house, Kaidan heard Garrus mumble something about them being late, but Liara’s reply was enough to quiet him. Not that Kaidan would take too long, but going to the Citadel at the very least required a clean uniform.