TITLE: Chase Me, Until I Catch You

CHAPTER: 1, Angel

LOCATION: Rainy afternoon in January at a City Park in Vancouver, Canada.

Spend all your time waiting

For that second chance,

For a break that would make it okay.

There's always some reason

To feel not good enough,

And it's hard, at the end of the day.

Winter in Vancouver, meant average temperatures of 34 degrees Fahrenheit. Just warm enough to stop the endless rain from turning to snow or freezing as it puddled and ran down the sides of the streets. Cold enough for the storm to soak his clothes straight through to his bones. The park was shimmering emerald green and the path where the man and woman were running a soggy tan strip through the grass. The running track circled the park before it meandered up into the low hills beyond.

The man glanced down at his chronometer and up at the lowering clouds, before reluctantly following the woman up the ascending trail. He wore Alliance marine workout clothes with the hood of his jacket pulled up over his head, and his hands stuffed into his pockets. The woman wore running shorts and a sweatshirt. Her head was bare, and her long ponytail swung down behind her as she ran.

He'd been following that ponytail for ten miles now. The rain had started eight miles ago. For a marine, cold, tired, and hungry was out of the question. He'd learned to ignore his body's weaknesses in officer's training school. So he would never complain about it. If she were cold, tired, or hungry, she was showing no sign of it. Maybe a small sign? A granola bar? A sip of water? Something? Instead, she scrambled up the slippery rock outcroppings as if they were stairs. Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, he doubled his speed to keep up with her.

It was his duty to keep her in sight at all times. She was an Alliance detainee, and he was her guard.

The marine caught up with her at the summit of the hill. At this point, the running path doubled back on itself and headed back down to the park. He found her leaning against some rocks, her back to him, and her breath coming in short gasps. He'd known her for three weeks. She'd hardly spoken to him. That wasn't surprising, she was a full commander in the Alliance Navy, while he was a marine lieutenant. He knew who she was, of course. He'd heard what she'd been through, and until this second hadn't seen her express any emotion about the loss of her ship or her incarceration. He stepped closer; she was upset.

"Commander Shepard, is there anything I can do for you?"

She suddenly straightened and dragged a sleeve across her face. "I'm fine! If it's not too much to ask. Can I have a minute?."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. Turning away to give her some privacy. The difference in their rank and roles created a barrier between them. But there was a genuine desire in him to offer her what comfort he could. If she needed a friend to ease her isolation, he could do that too. He tried and failed to imagine what she must be going through. In the weeks he'd known her, not a single member of her crew come to visit.

The hell with it. His mother had raised him to be a gentleman. He walked back to her and used his larger frame to shield her from the rain. It was the least he could do. Maybe it was the only thing he could do. She seemed so alone, though. Perhaps he could get her to talk about it.

"Ma'am?"

It was one word too many. She turned on him. "You don't have to call me ma'am. You don't have to salute me or use my rank. I don't have a rank anymore!" He watched her ball up her fist and aimed it at the rock face. Before she made contact, he stopped her.

Jerking away with a snarl, she almost took a swing at him. This time, with a sudden fear that she might do something crazy, he pulled her hard up against him. They'd taken everything away from her. Everything that mattered. His gut told him there were no words of comfort to offer her. He was just a marine and not a very good one at that. So he hung on to her for the few seconds she allowed it. Then abruptly pushing him away, she started back down the hill.

They made it back to the detention block just before lockdown. He watched Shepard disappear into her room without a word, and the door to her cell silenced whatever else he might have said.

"LT, I got it. You're off duty. See you in the morning, sir."

Lieutenant James Vega nodded to the Ensign and headed reluctantly back to the barracks. A hot shower warmed him up. He rubbed the towel over his body until Vega absently rubbed his chest, thinking of the odd tingling he felt there when he'd held her. When she'd pushed him away, the sudden loss of her body against his.

"Vega," he said aloud, as he dried off. "You got no business worrying about her. Stick to your job and remember your place." He tossed the towel in the general direction of the hamper and slid naked into bed. His last thoughts as he fell asleep, were of her alone in her cell.

~O~O~O~O~

0700, Commander Shepard's Detention Cell

"Enter," Shepard responded to the chime.

"Good morning, Shepard." The lieutenant walked in with an equipment bag slung over his shoulder. "Uh, not sure if boxing is your thing. But after yesterday..." he glanced up to gauge her reaction. "If you need to punch something. I have a safer alternative."

"You offering to be my punching bag, Vega?"

He almost missed her words because the crooked smile she'd just flashed lite up the room. He looked toward the window. Had the sun just come back out after three days of rain? Vega looked back at her face. What had just happened? It was the first time he'd seen her smile, and he intended to see it again.

"Lieutenant Vega?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Okay, for starters, let's go with last names. I'm not an officer anymore, so call me Shepard. Do I have your permission, unless the brass is around, to call you Vega?"

"That's fine, ma'am...Shepard. But I'd rather you called me by my first name."

"You'll have to let me know what that is."

"James," he said like he just remembered it. "My first name is James."

"Look, James. Before we head to the gym," she paused. "I want to thank...she paused again, gazing out the window. "It was inappropriate for me to be so emotional yesterday."

"Inappropriate? I may not be the best piece of candy in the piñata, so maybe I need some clarification. It seems to me you have plenty to be..."

That made her laugh. "Never mind, James. Let's head to the gym so you can teach me how to beat the hell out of people. I may be working on a list."

~O~O~O~O~

As he wrapped her hands, in preparation for the boxing gloves, he took the liberty of noticing her indigo blue eyes were red. She must have cried for a while last night. The harsh gym lights bounced off the highlights in her coppery red hair. There was a sprinkling of golden brown freckles across her nose. A sharp need to touch her raced through his body.

"Don't you dare," she warned.

"Hmm...?" Pretending to concentrate on wrapping her hands. Mierda! Get a grip, marine. She can't read your mind. Can she? That's not really how her biotics worked. Was it? What kind of biotics does she have...

She interrupted his musings. "Don't you dare say a word about my freckles."

"So, 'Freckles' is out of the question?"

She slammed her hands into the gloves in answer.

"Okay, okay. I get the picture." He replied innocently. He stood abruptly, reaching for his wraps until she stopped him.

"Here. Let me," she murmured, grasping the fabric.

But one touch from her cool fingertips and the scratch of her nails against his palm was all he could take. "Leave it. I can do it," he barked, and he watched her eyes widen. Vega put several feet between him and Shepard before he embarrassed himself in front of her. Charisma and stunning looks stirred his libido into an inferno of fuck-her-against-the-ropes versus the pick-her-up-and-hold-her-like-the-lost-little-girl raged under his skin, flooding his body with need. Hiding his reaction to her by focusing on donning his gloves, with a vow to wear something loose next time, Vega politely raised the rope for her to enter the ring.

"So, what's the first lesson, James?"

They spent the next two hours practicing basic boxing punches. Once she got the hang of the basic form, he donned boxing pads for her to practice her punches. He watched her allow her anger to flare as she took out her frustrations on the pads. James was sure his shoulders would be sore as hell by morning.

"What's next?"

"Well, Red. Let's see what you do know."

He never saw her right foot as it whipped past his head.

He grinned at her, "Okay, so you can kick. Sooner or later, you'll have to learn to take a punch."

"Don't call me Red."

"Get through my guard, and I'll stop."

A small crowd had now formed around the ring. Someone was kind enough to remind Vega about Shepard's biotic strength.

Shepard knew enough to keep her gloves up, but she went after Vega with her legs. Spinning around, she expected to land a kick to his chest. But he blocked it with his right arm. Then with his left, he swung a hook, catching her at the point of her chin. He grabbed for her as she sagged. When she blinked up at him and smiled, James was effectively distracted. Leaning back in his arms for leverage, she scissored her legs and pulled the lieutenant to the mat.

That got a round of applause.

"Am I through your guard yet?"

He watched her from his position on the floor. She sat astride him with her legs tightly wrapped around his hips. Her t-shirt soaked with sweat and giving him a full view of what was underneath: her sports bra, everything, and the rise and fall of her breasts. Vega...this is not for you. Look away.

Her hair had come loose, and it hung wild around her face. He found himself captivated by the sparkle of victory in her eyes. The muscles of her arms as she leaned over him, resting on her gloves. She was like a wild creature, and yet, she was Commander Shepard. Although she could bounce him off the walls with her biotics, just now grinning down at him, she had the look of a teenager. He wanted to hold her and protect her. She'd made it clear she didn't require protecting.

In answer, Vega flipped her over on her back, pinning her to the mat with his more substantial and heavier body. He leaned down and whispered against her cheek. "Yeah, Red. You sure as hell are."

"Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance,
For a break that would make it okay.

There's always some reason
To feel not good enough,
And it's hard, at the end of the day.

I need some distraction,
Oh, beautiful release.
Memories seep from my veins.

Let me be empty,
Oh, and weightless,
And maybe I'll find some peace tonight.

In the arms of the angel,
Fly away from here,
From this dark, cold hotel room,
And the endlessness that you fear.
You are pulled from the wreckage,
Of your silent reverie.
You're in the arms of the angel,
May you find some comfort here.

So tired of the straight line,
And everywhere you turn,
There's vultures and thieves at your back.

The storm keeps on twisting.
Keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack.

It don't make no difference,
Escape one last time.
It's easier to believe in this sweet madness,
Oh, this glorious sadness,
That brings me to my knees.

You're in the arms of the angel,
May you find some comfort here."

"Angel" as written by Sarah Mclachlan, Erik Segerstedt
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC