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Evy’s slouched back on one end of the lounge located in the starboard observatory, the viewing blind open and the lights dim. It's late. She really should be in bed, but the last few times she's tried to sleep, she's woken, plagued by the same nightmare.
Stuck in the same forest, chasing the ghost from Earth as the last words of those she lost echo around her.
Feet tucked up onto the lounge next to her, she sniffs and rubs at her eyes. The exhaustion has reached a physical weight, one that makes movement difficult and slows her thoughts. It's the dangerous type, she knows this, but after the Citadel?
After Udina and Cerberus?
Sleep isn't her friend.
She'll go back to bed eventually, will pass out from exhaustion and wake a few hours later with determination and stubbornness to get her through the day. It is what it is.
While the Reapers are still out there, she will do what she must.
The sound of the airlock door opening behind her is unexpected, and she hurriedly sits up, feet dropping to the ground as her back goes straight. She should have overridden the lock to stop—
“Oh, Shepard.”
Kaidan. She would recognise his voice anywhere.
He also sounds as surprised as she is.
“I didn't realise you were—I can come back later—” He breaks off, unsure.
Evy’s heart makes a weird flip-flop motion in her chest as her heartbeat pulses wildly. Kaidan. He's here now, on the crew, and with her.
He asked to come back, and she—she should say something.
“No, it's okay,” says Evy, hoping that her voice is more level than she is feeling. “It’s a communal space.”
She slumps down again slightly, taking a deep breath before turning to look at him. This isn't exactly the image she was hoping to present on his first night back on board, but then it’s nothing he hasn't seen before. He knows more than anyone that she is as human as the next crew member.
Kaidan’s hovering a few feet inside the door, clad in a black t-shirt and fatigue bottoms, brown hair mussed and sticking up on one side with a crease line up his cheek. His brow furrows as he takes in Evy in her N7 hoodie, lack of shoes, red eyes and dishevelled hair.
“Are you okay?” asks Kaidan, his voice growing immediately tender as he takes a half-step towards her. “I mean—I can leave. If you'd rather be alone—”
“No! Don't go—” The speed of her answer takes them both back slightly, if the look of surprise on Kaidan’s face is anything to go by. “The company would be welcome.”
Nodding once, Kaidan takes a deep breath and crosses the room, sitting down a short distance away. The swoosh of the door closing behind him is awfully loud in the space, reminding Evy that anyone else could walk in. Unlikely, but it's a risk she’d prefer not to take right now.
“EDI, stop anyone else from coming in here, please,” she says absently, lifting her hand and waving towards the door.
Prompt as always, EDI replies, “Noted, Shepard. Lock override in place.”
“Thanks, EDI.”
“That is going to take some getting used to,” murmurs Kaidan as the mechanical whir and click of the lock settling echoes through the room.
“She grows on you.”
“I’ll take your word on that.”
The silence that settles isn't quite awkward, but it isn't quite comfortable either. There’s a weight in it, of two people who once knew each other intimately, still finding what that means now. When it's known they care, but not the precise form that caring will take.
Evy draws her feet up again, tucking one knee up to her chest as she wraps her arms around it, staring out at the stars.
Kaidan is here.
He's alive and breathing next to her.
A year ago, that seemed like an impossible probability. A year ago, she woke up after impossible odds. A year ago, she watched him walk away on Horizon. A year ago, she tried to get over him and failed.
Few things in Evy’s life remain constant; military life will do that to you, even if your life started planet-side. Material possessions are few, especially if you don’t have a house or apartment to go back to.
But people? Those bonds forged in the fire of battle and in shared experience?
They are where Evy finds a home.
Sitting here with Kaidan, it's a reminder of all they have been through.
It's Kaidan who breaks the silence first.
“Couldn't sleep?”
“Mmm, something like that,” says Evy quietly. “It’ll pass. It always does.”
Kaidan hums, a comforting, familiar sound that makes her heart ache. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She glances over at him.
Kaidan is watching her, his arm resting along the back of the lounge, fingers stopping a few inches from her shoulder. As if reaching for her, and unsure if he can close that distance.
Evy shifts, turning towards him.
The temptation to take him up on the offer is strong; too many people see her as Commander Shepard and not enough see her as Evy. Liara and Garrus have heard some of it—Garrus more than Liara has an uncanny ability to pick at the exact wound paining her at any given moment with his own brand of rough care—but even they don't know all of it.
“If I start, I don't know if I will be able to stop,” Evy warns. “Are you sure you want to get into that, Alenko? It's not pretty up here sometimes.” Evy taps the side of her head and gives a wiry smile.
Kaidan laughs, and a rush of affection floods through Evy. She has missed that sound.
“After everything I've babbled out at you? Only seems fair.”
“You were in a hospital bed for half of it, drugged up on painkillers,” Evy points out. “You had an excuse.”
“I might have been,” says Kaidan, taking Evy’s teasing in stride and somehow still seeing through to the heart of it. “But talking to a friend helped. Talking to… you helped. If I can help, I would like to.”
Evy believes him. She wants to. Wants to build that bridge. And she has missed him. This quiet, dependable Kaidan sees her.
“I don't know. There is—in everything I've done, I’ve gone into it believing that I would walk out of it because that's the only way to get through it. No alternative could be entertained.” She falls quiet, contemplating. It's not an easy feeling to put into words. Kaidan doesn't interrupt, but his fingers do brush her shoulder and stay there. “This one, though, this one feels… harder. There are more pieces than just my team. It takes longer, and every moment of delay, of diplomacy and negotiation, I know the lives it is costing. I am doing everything I can, but will it be enough? It has to be enough. Hackett, Anderson, the Crucible—if I fail, we all fail.”
The bundle of awkward, spiky emotion that is a black ball firmly lodged in her chest goes tight. It's a constant companion, locked down behind walls and decisions and compartmentalisation that will one day come undone. That she will have to deal with, when she has time. She can't afford to take the lid off fully. Not yet.
But she can lift the edge.
“If I know anything,” Kaidan starts slowly, quietly, as if giving Evy an opportunity to stop him, “it's that you will do everything you can to see this through, to make it a success. You inspire those around you to give their best. And that is all that anyone can ask for. No matter the outcome, you tried. That counts for something.”
Kaidan’s words wash over her, and Evy’s shoulders hunch as the weight of those words hits her. The walls are fragile tonight, and this… this acceptance feels too much. Too big. Too raw.
Something must happen to her face, because before either of them really processes it, Kaidan leans forward and reaches out towards her. “Oh, Eve—”
Evy doesn't hesitate.
She crashes forward into Kaidan, burying her face against Kaidan’s neck as he catches her, his strong arms immediately wrapping around her as he cradles her into his chest.
Every moment of holding back, of not wanting to be presumptuous, goes flying out the window as she takes comfort in having him close. He smells exactly how she remembers—amber, clove, and a hint of musk—and Evy’s shoulders shudder as she drops her full weight into him. Evy doesn't cry—she's saving those tears for after—but the breath that comes out for her isn't far off it. Kaidan’s arms tighten further as his hand rubs a soothing path up and down her back.
She feels lips press to the top of her head, and feels the rumble of his chest more than hears as he speaks softly, “It's going to be okay, love.”
She doesn't remember falling asleep. Doesn't remember how long it took for her breathing to settle, lulled into the gentle rhythm of Kaidan’s breath and his hand against her back, but she must of at some point. She wakes, in bed, hoodie still on and a note on a datapad left on her bedside table.
I thought this would be more comfortable than waking on a couch; we're not as young as we once were. I left once you were settled. You can check with EDI.
You don't have to go through this alone, Evy.
–K
Evy reads it, reads it again, and smiles.