I wish I had never agreed to this.

It is a foolish idea in hindsight, but something in me is longing to tell the truth, to get the real story recorded somehow before it is lost to the faded memory that time brings. Will people believe what I have to say? Probably not. I am more than aware that the media has created its own tale surrounding us, our exploits and our secrets. They will never know how much their words hurt me. But maybe there is a chance here to set the record straight. I am the only one who can, because I know the reality. I know the soul behind the name, the lover within the soldier, the aching heart that beat so powerfully behind that thick metal shell.

Sure, I knew her. But it was so much more than that. I loved her. And out of all the men she'd ever met, out of all the ones who fought for her attention, she chose me – and she chose to love me back.

"Major Alenko?"

My temples are throbbing slightly as I lift my head, meeting the gaze of the reporter sitting opposite me.

"I just want to take the opportunity to thank you for doing this," Emily Wong watches me over the top of her datapad, "And for asking me to be here. I can't tell you how much of an honour this is."

I stretch my shoulders a little, sitting back in my chair. "I'm doing this for her. You're the only reporter she ever trusted, so please promise me that you'll keep your word."

"I promised you that I wouldn't release this publically, and I intend to keep my word. I wouldn't have it any other way," she replies steadily, a compassionate smile playing across her face. "The book is yours, Major Alenko. I'm just happy to be involved in the project. Now, are you ready to begin?"

I swallow nervously, that familiar sensation of cold sweat breaking out on the back of my neck. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Just relax and tell me what you see in your mind. It will come to you."

I nod and fold my arms. "Where do you want me to start?"

"Take me back to when you first saw her."

"Yeah, sure. I can do that." I close my eyes and let the memory claim me…

- 2183 -

"Attention!"

The call echoed around the hangar, jerking me abruptly out of my reverie. I feel a slight bump on my elbow, and glance to my left.

Richard Jenkins grins awkwardly as he leans past me, his eyes sparkling with eagerness. "There he is – that's Captain Anderson!"

I chance a look out of the corner of my eye as our new commanding officer strides onto the dock. His tall, broad-shouldered frame is stark against the light of the Nebula. From this distance, I can't distinguish his facial features at all.

"I can't see anything," I mutter to Jenkins beneath my breath. "Joker, can you see?"

"Not really, but looks like we'll get our chance in just a moment. He's coming this way," Joker retorts, his green eyes flickering jovially. "Battle faces, everyone."

A boot collides with the back of my shin. "Shhh! Do you want us all on report?" Engineer Adams whispers harshly.

No – no I really don't! I take a shaky breath and draw my back up a little straighter. I want to make a good first impression. Jenkins, on the other hand, is more concerned with catching a glimpse of our new captain. I bite back a groan. Why couldn't I be in the second row?

I turn my attention back to Anderson. He's looking away from me, looking back out the doors as though he's waiting for something.

Oh please hurry up and get this over with. I've never mentioned it to anyone before, but I really hate parades. My boots are new and they're eating at my toes... That probably isn't helping.

As I watch, two more figures emerge from the elevator, moving to stand next to Anderson. I recognise one as Navigator Pressly. I've seen him hanging around the Normandy, making adjustments to the systems. But the other one? That must be the Normandy's First Officer, I guess. The two shake hands, and then begin to walk down the line-up of crew towards me. As they approach, I can start to make out faces from the silhouettes.

Anderson possesses a placid but determined demeanour. I immediately like him. He's taking a moment to greet every member of the crew, familiarising himself with each of our names and ranks. As he stops in front of me, I salute him.

"You must be Lieutenant Alenko," He greets me, extending his hand.

I grasp it and shake it firmly, "Yes, Sir – Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant. How do you like the Normandy?"

I glance over my shoulder toward the silver and black warship docked behind us, a slight, tingling sensation running up my spine. "She's a fine ship, Sir. I'm honoured to be a part of the crew."

"That she is, Lieutenant. Carry on." Anderson steps to the side to greet Jenkins, and the XO enters my line of vision.

Wow. She's beautiful.

With a height of five foot seven, she has to look up slightly to meet my gaze. Her hair is a vibrant shade of auburn, glinting rusty orange. The light falls down one side of her face revealing pale skin dotted with faint freckles. Her eyes are almond-shaped with long, dark lashes. She peers up at me from underneath thick, determined brows, her golden-brown irises studying my face intently. Her crimson lips curl into a half-smile as she shakes my hand.

"Lieutenant," She addresses me after a long pause, and immediately I'm enraptured by her voice. It is authoritative, almost stern, but there is softness to her manner. Despite her commanding tone, a faint hint of kindness lingers on the end of each word.

I fumble for a response, not entirely sure how to address her. My eyes glance down at her dress uniform epaulettes – three black bars. "Uh... Commander... Ma'am..." I let my words trail off as logic fails me.

She nods in acknowledgement, one of her brows lifting up slightly into a bemused expression. Then she strides past me, leaving me gawking like a fool.

My cheeks are burning with embarrassment.

Well, that was highly unprofessional, Alenko! I silently curse my brain for glitching on me like that. All it takes is for a woman to look at you and you lose all your professionalism. What is she possibly going to think of you after a display like that? Great first impression. Just great.

Jenkins bumps my elbow once more, "Who was that?"

Joker snorts derisively from beneath his baseball cap. He glowers at me in admonishment, "You guys are kidding me right? That was Commander Shepard!"

It isn't until almost a day later, after the Normandy has left the Citadel, that I get the chance to see her again. I am packing my footlocker, still feeling like an idiot. Jenkins has stuck around me for the past hour, rambling about Captain Anderson and speculating about being in charge of a warship. I think I must have tuned out about half an hour ago, but it isn't until he's disappeared that I realise I've basically been ignoring him. That makes me feel even worse.

My locker is confined, barely big enough to fit my gear at all. I've been posted to all kinds of places over the past few years, but being on a Turian-designed ship is vastly different. Living on the Normandy is a bit like living out of a tin can. It's cramped. Every space is public. You've barely got privacy, let alone a space to call your own. I've taken up a part-time residence in a nook on the crew deck. It's not private at all, but it's relatively quiet. After spending an hour in the CIC, my head is pounding. Here at least I can find something for my hands to do. I'm pulling apart my new pistol and polishing it up when I hear footsteps across the room. I look up, partially out of curiosity... And partially out of hope.

There she is, standing in front of the lockers. Her back is turned to me, the faint yellow light bouncing off her hair like polished strands of copper. She has changed out of her dress-blues, instead sporting the typical alliance casuals. The mottled navy is a striking contrast against her hair.

I must have been staring for a long while. She pauses in the midst of packing away her gear, and turns around.

I immediately redirect my eyes to my gun, my gut churning. That was stupid, Alenko, truly stupid. Do you honestly think she appreciates men sizing her up like that? I berate myself, No, that's not what it was. I was just... Yeah. Okay. I was sizing her up.

A pair of boots appears in the corner of my vision. I feel my last breath get stuck in my throat.

Oh hell. She's standing right next to me. Breathe... Breathe, damn it!

I look up casually, despite the fact that my heart is pounding ridiculously in my chest. "Hey, Commander," I say, doing my best to make my voice sound smooth.

It's not working.

She gives me that amused half-grin, her eyes glinting as her brow rises slightly. "Lieutenant Alenko, isn't it? How are you settling in?"

"I'm just that, Ma'am... Uh, settled," I search for the right words, mentally slapping myself. "And you? Are you... Uh, settled?"

"I think so. Tight quarters around here – though I'm sure we'll all get used to it."

"Yes, I'm sure we will, Ma'am."

There is a long, uncomfortable pause. Shepard is no more than a foot away. She leans back fractionally, her arms crossed across her chest. I take the opportunity to observe her: Slender but strong, with thick upper arms. Her face is gentle, but her nose is thin and straight. It is a surprising trait, one that makes me stare for a moment. Somehow, though, it seems to work quite well with her brows and eyes. And her hair, styled in a long bob, softens the length of her face nicely. She's quite beautiful to look at.

I emerge from my reverie to find that Shepard is studying me just as intently.

I scramble to find something polite to say, but she beats me to it.

"I'm just getting to know the crew," Shepard smiles. "It's great to meet you, Lieutenant."

"Likewise, Commander."

As she turns to leave, she glances back over her shoulder with a mysterious sparkle in her eye. And then she's gone, leaving me with my pistol – and my mind – in pieces.