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Kaidan stumbled out of the men’s restroom, wiping his tired eyes as the toilet automatically flushed behind him. He internally bemoaned the reality that he now had to make 3 A.M bathroom runs, where just a few years ago he didn’t have to.
The joys of getting older, he thought wryly as he padded softly down the hall. His feet tugged him towards the direction of his bed, and he found no reason to resist… until he saw the light on in the observation deck.
He stopped and frowned, wondering if someone on the night crew was taking their break. Typically the lights shut themselves off if no one occupied the room. Better make sure, he thought with a shrug as he detoured towards the deck.
As he stepped inside, the room greeted him with silence. It took a moment or two of glancing around before he caught the reason the lights were still on.
Tucked away in the corner was Shepard, seated at the table usually reserved for gaming. Datapads laid strewn over the table. Shepard’s head rested on top of them, a datapad still in her hand. At some point she’d fallen asleep, seemingly in the middle of reading yet another report.
Kaidan’s heart squeezed at the sight. He doubted she had slept the night before, and clearly her non-stop work ethic finally caught up to her. As he approached her, he noticed the way her face pinched in her sleep. Once upon a time, she looked peaceful when she slept. He recalled how content she looked as she fell asleep next to him the night before they hit Ilos, and all the mornings they spent together after that. The stress of her job melted away when she rested, and she looked much younger than she was. He would spend minutes looking at her, cherishing the rare moment of seeing her utterly relaxed.
But now she found no peace, not even in sleep. Her brow seemed perpetually furrowed, always weighed down by some worry or responsibility. Dark circles sunk in below her eyes, accentuating her natural paleness and making her look gaunt, almost sickly. Even her body couldn’t seem to relax; her muscles remained tense, bunched and ready for whatever life threw at her next.
Suddenly she whimpered. Her hands clutched and grasped for something, visible only in her dream, sending the datapad she held in the waking world scattering onto the floor. Her body tried to curl up, stopped only because of the way she was positioned. She cried out, her voice small and weak.
Kaidan couldn’t stand it. He dropped next to her side and wrapped his arms around her. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, trying to pull her out of the nightmare. “Shepard, it’s just a dream. You’re okay.”
She shuddered out a shaky breath, twitching and pushing against him. He held her still, save for when he would gently shake her to see if that would snap her out of it. Though he doubted it worked, he still murmured to her that she was safe, that she was in a nightmare and she needed to wake up. After long minutes passed, she finally settled down, though her face remained scrunched in fear.
With the moment passed, Kaidan looked down at her in his arms and internally berated himself. If she had woken up and realized what he was doing, she might not have been okay with it. After all, ever since he returned to the Normandy, she’d given no indication that she wanted to talk things out, to see where they stood in regards to their relationship. Things remained awkward between them, and she seemed content to keep him at arm’s length.
But that could mean one of two things with Shepard, he reminded himself. Either she no longer wanted what they once had, or she kept her feelings to herself for whatever reason. And he knew her well enough to know the second option was very likely.
He sighed quietly as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the room. Despite how odd it might look to any of the night crew that passed by, Kaidan preferred risking the scuttlebutt and Shepard’s potential wrath over letting her sleep in an uncomfortable chair all night. He still cared too much about her to worry more about appearances than what she needed.
And what she needed was sleep. “You’re still terrible at taking care of yourself,” he muttered, shaking his head as they approached the elevator. In fact, he was almost certain she’d gotten worse about it since their SR-1 days. That might require a chat with Garrus, he concluded as he hit the call button with his elbow.
While he waited for the elevator, he looked down at her, making sure she was comfortable and not situated uncomfortably in his arms. To his surprise, he found that her face had softened, the pinched look gone. In fact, she almost looked like she was smiling. She curled up closer against him, her body now free of the tension it held earlier.
Before he could stop himself, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, utterly relieved to see her resting and secretly pleased she found that in his arms. Still, he refused to read too much into it. As a biotic, he ran warmer than others, and the ship was cold. She simply may have been drawn to his warmth.
The elevator pinged and he stepped in, using his elbow again to send the elevator to Shepard’s quarters. When the doors closed, he let his guard down and rested his head on top of Shepard’s, relishing the feel of her hair against his skin. He’d missed this, more than he realized until now.
He wanted to feel bad for the contact, unsure if Shepard would at all care for it, and he knew he should feel guilty. But then she murmured in her sleep and nuzzled against his neck. He felt his heart soar, and the guilt was forgotten.
The elevator doors opened and Kaidan stepped out with Shepard. He got her door open and took a few steps in. Belatedly he realized this was the first time he’d ever seen her quarters. He stood and stared for a moment, taking it all in.
Liara once described it to him, saying that if nothing else, Cerberus had decent aesthetic taste. He had to agree. The cabin was beautiful, well-furnished and smartly designed. The aquarium added a nice touch, too.
His eyes eventually directed their gaze on her desk, and found that very same stare aimed back at him. He blinked in surprise at the picture on her desk; it was an older photo of him, taken at least three years or so ago.
“Where did you get that?” he asked her, though not expecting an answer from the sleeping commander. And how long have you had it?
But then, it didn’t really matter. She had it, and that’s what counted. Hope flickered in his heart, and for once, he didn’t try to put it out.
He walked down the stairs and over the floor until he reached her bed. Carefully he lowered her onto the mattress, doing his best not to jostle her too much. Once she was settled, he stepped back, knowing he should leave, that he had invaded her privacy enough for one night.
Except that she looked uncomfortable in her fatigues and boots. His lips twitched as he warred with himself, torn between not crossing boundaries and not being a jerk. Because he felt like it would be sort of mean to just leave her like that.
At least take off her boots, he thought and he nodded to himself in agreement. That wasn’t terribly intimate or anything, right? And no one slept with shoes on, so she would appreciate that he did that for her, at least. He bent down and unlaced her shoes, silently cursing that she double-knotted them. Practical for out in the field, but not so much when getting them off. Finally, after some grunting and awkward maneuvering, he managed to pry both of them off of her, taking her socks with them (she never slept in her socks). He set them on the floor at the foot of her bed.
Surely that was enough for common courtesy’s sake.
Yet, it didn’t feel like it.
Kaidan rubbed a hand over his face, wishing he could actually, physically kick himself right now. He hadn’t felt this self-conscious and unsure of himself in years. “Only you could do this to me still,” he said, shooting a look at Shepard’s sleeping form.
After a debate that took longer than it should have, he settled on just taking off her overshirt. They were notoriously uncomfortable to lay on, he knew, with all their buttons and straps. Their uniform pants weren’t entirely great for sleeping in either, but that was definitely crossing a line. So, the overshirt it was.
He carefully unbuttoned it, hoping all the while she wouldn’t wake up. Once the front came undone, he slid it slowly over her shoulders, moving her arms and torso so he could get it off of her. With the overshirt finally off, he sighed in relief, picking it up and folding it.
It left her in just her undershirt: a black tank top with the N7 logo stitched just above her left breast. The overshirt’s removal exposed two chains around her neck: a thick one that held her dogtags, and a small, thinner one.
Is it what I think it is? He quickly set the overshirt on her nightstand before he bent over to pull at the second chain. Decency and decorum temporarily went out the window as he held himself on one arm just inches away from her, pulling out the second chain with his other hand.
It jangled and fought against him for a moment, but finally it came free. Out came a locket; he recognized it as the one he bought for Shepard on shore leave years ago, just weeks before Alchera. It looked a little beat up, though he was impressed the thing was even still intact. He knew Shepard was wearing it when she got spaced. How it survived that baffled him.
He popped open the locket. The inside still held the same description, and it still showed the same picture of him that Shepard took on their shore leave. He thought it a less than flattering photo, but Shepard insisted that she loved it.
Tears pricked at his eyes. He let out a shaky breath, closing the locket and tucking it against Shepard. Even after all this time, she still wore it. Between that and the picture on her desk, he knew she still cared. Maybe even still loved him, despite everything they’d gone through.
“Then why did you hide it from me?” he murmured, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. He thought he made it clear he still cared about her, but apparently something did not come through. Or maybe Shepard simply felt too scared to believe it, afraid of letting her heart take another beating. She’d become more guarded in the last couple years; not just with him, Kaidan noticed, but with all of her friends. Still always willing to listen to their problems, but even less inclined to unload hers on them.
He sighed, shaking his head at her. It was something they butted heads over in the past, and he had a feeling they would again.
“Seems like we gotta have a talk,” he said. A very frank talk, by the look of things. As intimidating as it would be, he needed to lay out his feelings to her, word for word. That way there would be no misunderstandings, no room for doubt or old haunts to get in the way. They were due to dock at the Citadel in a couple of days. That would be a good place to talk about it: a neutral setting, and away from the eyes and ears of the crew.
Satisfied with his plan, Kaidan leaned back, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over her. As it settled around her, he placed another kiss on her forehead. “We’ll work this out,” he promised. If they both still cared for each other, he refused to let anything stand in their way: not regs, and certainly not the war.
He pulled back and began walking away. He needed to figure out where and how to set up this talk. Apollo’s might work, he thought. Food was always good, and it would look like a date, which was sort of the idea he wanted to give her.
That just left working up the nerve to ask her about it.
When he reached the door he looked over his shoulder. Seeing her curled up alone in the big bed, looking small and helpless, made his heart ache. It made him wish he could go and pull her back into his arms, keeping her warm and safe the whole night through. Then she would wake up beside him as he told her how much he loved her.
He wished so badly that he could, so much that it made his body ache from the restraint it took to keep himself from going and doing just that.
“Good night, Shepard.” He settled for that instead, flicking her lights off. It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do. Not tonight, he told himself as he walked out of her cabin, signaling for the door to shut behind him.
But maybe… maybe soon.