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“Name?”
“Alenko. Kaidan.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d ever received an unexpected package in his years of service with the Alliance, but it certainly wasn’t what he’d consider a common occurrence. More often than not, those few that had come his way had arrived in conjunction with adjusted orders or assignments. Sometimes a new piece of equipment or technology needed to accomplish the next goal would be sent ahead. This time, however, Kaidan had an odd feeling about it.
When the young clerk returned with a large envelope, the biotic released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. It was paperwork of some sort, it seemed. Likely an encrypted datapad with some sort of vital information on it, he supposed. Once his identity was verified, the clerk cordially wished him a pleasant day and handed over the package.
Kaidan’s brow furrowed in confusion as he held the strange weight of the envelope in his hands. It was too light for a datapad and too heavy to be empty. He could feel something hard rattling around in the lower corner as he gently shook it, trying to identify exactly what it was he’d been given.
Something told him to wait until he could return to his hotel room, but curiosity got the best of him well before he reached his destination. Setting his bag down on a bench and taking a seat, he warily flipped the envelope around in his hands, searching for an explanation. It was a common sort of vessel for correspondence within the Alliance, he knew, but something about this one seemed so strangely unadorned and mysterious that it made his heart sink.
Confidential
That was the only marking of note.
He took a breath and slowly peeled back the edge of the opening, then turned it so that whatever was inside would fall into his open hand.
A small metal trinket made its appearance, and Kaidan’s eyes narrowed as he tried to make sense of the Alliance marking staring him in the face. He flipped it over, noticing his own name etched prominently into the metal surface. It was his dog tag.
All in a moment, he felt as though he couldn’t breathe. The last time he’d seen this tag it had been resting across Shepard’s chest the morning of…
It was a sound telling of disbelief and sorrow that escaped his throat before he had the chance to stop it. He stared at the tag, its weight suddenly unbearably heavy in his hand. Its surfaces were no longer shining and bright like they once had been. It was charred and nicked and bent. It had been through hell and back and now, somehow, had found its way back to him. But how? Why?
For a fleeting moment, a glimmer of hope flickered to life in his heart. She had survived. Somehow. Against all odds. She’d managed to get away from the Normandy as it blew apart above Alchera and…
A wave of nausea washed over him when he considered why, if she’d survived the destruction of her ship, she’d return this trinket. It was as though she hadn’t cared at all.
Somehow, it hurt a little less to assume that he’d been right the first time and that she’d mistakenly died going down with the ship.
Kaidan turned his attention to the envelope again, hoping it held a little more information about how this tag had found its way into his possession once more. He opened it wider, somehow surprised and relieved to find a small piece of paper hidden within, almost overlooked in his frantic search for answers. Setting the tag on his lap, he carefully unfolded the page with shaking hands.
He gasped as he eyed the penmanship. It was after a moment of study that he realized it was indeed eerily similar to Shepard’s, but it was not quite the same.
_____
Staff Commander Kaidan Alenko,
I hope this letter finds you well. I recently received a set of dog tags from an unknown source, a problem I hope to rectify soon. Honestly, I was expecting the tags to belong to any number of soldiers lost in recent attacks on human ships and colonies, as I may have been the last known commanding officer with the ability to locate next of kin. Imagine my surprise when I found that these had belonged to my daughter. I’m inclined to believe that they were on her person when she died.
More surprising still was that one of the pair didn’t bear her name. It’s yours. I make no judgments or arguments regarding whatever relationship the two of you had. I thought it best to return this tag to you. You’ll have to forgive me for keeping hers, as it’s the only thing that’s offered me any measure of closure in this mess. I hope you’ll keep its match, because if she deemed you important enough to make this exchange, I’ve no doubt that she’d want you to have it.
For what it’s worth, you have my condolences. If I know my daughter at all, then I know you were very special to her.
Take care of yourself,
Captain Hannah Shepard
_____
Tears burned behind his eyes as he slowly processed the words. He didn’t understand how the tags had managed to find their way home when the body, to his knowledge, had not. He’d wasted countless hours and days combing over Alchera searching, hoping, praying that he’d find some sign of Shepard, but he’d eventually been forced to give up when exhaustion and the Alliance had demanded it.
Kaidan realized, when he looked down, that he’d already been pressing what small token he had left of the woman he loved against his skin, his heart. He had indeed held onto Shepard’s other tag, as her mother had suspected. He hadn’t had the strength to remove it as he coped with the loss. Even now, ages later, it seemed, it was still too soon. He felt it under his shirt, pressed between his hand and his chest, and it felt like it belonged. He wasn’t quite prepared to change that.
Slowly and solemnly, he folded the note from Hannah Shepard and tucked it, with the envelope, into his bag. He picked up his battered tag once more and took a good look at it. She’d been wearing it. He knew she had. That meant that, unless they’d mysteriously fallen off, someone had found her corpse.
He swallowed hard and tried to bite back the tears that were threatening to choke him. Meanwhile, he wanted to choke this ‘unknown source’ if they’d located Shepard and neglected to let her family and friends know.
Ultimately, he took a deep breath and focused on the captain’s words. She’d been given an opportunity for closure, even if it felt incomplete. He needed to take it for what it was worth as well. There was no bringing back the woman he’d loved, and this was a sign that he needed to accept that fact rather than wallow in anger and remorse.
Thankful and heartbroken, he moved to stand, holding the battered dog tag in his clenched fist as he slung his bag over his shoulder. He needed to get moving in order to try and bring peace to his mind. Eventually, he hoped, there would come a day when there would be peace in his heart.