Two chapters for the price of one! I couldn't leave you with just the Interlude, so I'm including this as well. This chapter contains SPOILERS for the Citadel DLC. It was originally going to take place on random shore leave but then, well, I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone. On the other hand, I'm not sure I like how this chapter turned out since I tried to fit in all the things (!) and don't think it's as seamless as it could be. Considering I have tons of other writing to do, however, I'm posting it in the interest of progressing the story. Enjoy! :)

Chapter Thirteen: A Mirror With Too Many Faces

Dear Ms. Misra,

I'm not sure what I can tell you that I haven't already heard. Shepard was a hell of a Commander, a hell of a woman, and, even though I didn't know her as long as some, I still count her among some of my closest friends, even after… Well, after.

She liked to help people with their problems. She could be pushy as hell, to the point where some people might think she was insensitive, but that wasn't it. It didn't occur to me at the time, but now I think she might've been trying so hard to fix all our problems because she had no idea how to deal with her own, and who could blame her? If you knew half the things that happened to her, you'd swear I was pitching you the plot of the twenty-first Blasto movie.

But Shepard herself, I think she was the most real person I ever met. She deserved better than what she got. As the war went on, there were times when we'd return from a mission and she'd just look so lost. If I could go back, if I could help her like she helped me, I would.

I was on Earth, grounded, when it all went down. It was the second worst day of my life.

But you don't want to hear about this. I've got some stories I can send you if you want them, but if you don't mind some friendly advice, I'd tell you to look for Commander James Vega. He and Shepard… I think he was the closest to understanding her of all of us.

Keep in touch. If you want, I mean.

Steve Cortez

o-o-o

James couldn't tell you exactly why he'd decided to get a tattoo. Okay, well, he could but he had the sneaking suspicion that it wasn't as simple as he was trying to pretend. Yeah, he did want to make his commitment to the N7 program official, but if he were being really honest, that was almost a secondary objective at this point. The primary objective was just to commit to something and since he wasn't able to do be with Shepard, well…

The fact that she was his favourite N7 – sorry Anderson – didn't hurt either.

The needle was cathartic against his skin, and he clenched his hands at his sides, closing his eyes and replaying that scene in Shepard's quarters. He'd been an idiot, even if she'd responded, even if she'd told him that she pretty much lov – liked him. She was his fucking CO, and he'd behaved like a horny teenager on prom night.

To her credit, Shepard had kept things totally cool since then. She hadn't blocked him out like she had after he'd kissed her the first time, but she'd been giving him a wide berth too. He was conflicted about the whole thing. On one hand, did he want Shepard anywhere but fifteen feet from him? Hell no, especially when that meant that he'd been left on the Normandy for the last little while, presumably to avoid any uncomfortable silences in the shuttle. But on the other hand, well, he didn't fancy staring at his belly button and trying to pretend nothing had changed either.

So far, nobody had said anything.

Okay, scratch that. Nobody but Estaban.

Few days ago, the guy came up behind James after an awkward one-two shuffle with Shepard up in the mess. James had beat it back down to the shuttle bay and nearly clocked Estaban when he'd snuck up behind.

"What was that all about?" asked Estaban, crossing his arms and taking a seat on a crate like he wasn't going to leave until he had an answer. Which he probably wasn't.

"What was what?" asked James, doing his best to look totally innocent.

Estaban didn't buy it. How come nobody ever bought it? "That, upstairs, with Shepard."

James wasn't ready to be on the level yet. "What are you talking about?"

The look he got from Estaban could've fried an egg. "Listen, I'm going to pretend you haven't been giving me the runaround because you're cute and because you're my friend, but talk to me James."

"You think I'm cute, Estaban?" asked James, wiggling his eyebrows.

"James," said Estaban, and it was such a perfect dad voice that James couldn't help but hope that they won this war so Estaban would have an actual kid of his own to use it on. His friend sighed and held up his hands, signally defeat. "If you want me to mind my own business, just tell me."

It had been tempting to do that, but Jesus, the last thing that he needed was to alienate another person on the ship, especially the only person who was sympathetic to his plight. James did not feel any desire to talk about this to any of the women – what with their sly smiles and condescending eyebrows – and he definitely couldn't talk to Alenko. So he sighed hugely and brought his forehead to rest on his workbench.

"I didn't go well," he said.

"What, did you kiss her without permission again?"

James wished to God that he'd kept that bit to himself. This time, he'd said nothing.

Estaban let out a low whistle. "You have heard that definition for insanity, right? Doing the same thing twice and expecting a different result?"

"Oh, it was a different result," said James, groaning.

He didn't have to look at his friend to picture those pretty blues going wide. "You didn't -?"

"What? No!" James stood up and levelled a glare at the other man. "C'mon, man, I may want Shepard like a snow cone in the Sahara, but I'm still a gentleman." He paused. "Sorta." He ran a hand over his hair. "We basically… She didn't… With the… It's just complicated, you know? The timing sucks, for one."

"True, that."

Now, James was letting the needle bite into his back in an attempt to push back the hurricane of mixed emotions that roiled in his belly. Estaban hadn't had much to offer other than some liquid comfort, and James couldn't really blame the guy. He could count the number of guys who'd tried to court their COs on, well, no fingers because he was the only one stupid enough to try. He was going to use this shore leave to try and screw his head back on properly.

"James?"

Shepard's voice caused him to jolt slightly, making the batarian behind him (batarian, ha, he never thought he'd see the day) growl in annoyance. Opening his eyes, James decided to try and play it cool, even though Shepard was looking at him like he'd just decided to start that stripping career Scars had mentioned.

"Commander," he greeted, choosing to err on the side of respectful. "Didn't expect to see you down here."

"I could say the same," she said, staring.

"Well, after our little chat," he started, and then seeing her snap to attention, he held up his hands, "you know, the one about the N7 program? Well, I decided to make it official. For me, at least."

"By getting a tattoo," she said, and though there was the slightest hint of a question, he could see she understood.

"Yeah. I know sometimes it seems like I don't take things seriously but, when I commit? I fully commit." He couldn't quite meet her eyes as he said this, but he let his vehemence speak for itself. After a few moments, he managed to peel his gaze up from the floor and found her studying him. It wasn't sexual, and he almost wished it was. That soft look on her face was a million times harder to ignore because he knew that he was one of the select few who'd ever received it.

Shepard snapped out of it and crossed her arms, looking away and nodding vaguely. "I can believe that." She licked her lips. "I was just down here doing some Spectre business," she said, unnecessarily. "But I have to go. I'm supposed to be meeting Joker for dinner."

"Should I be jealous?" James cursed himself the second the words were out.

Raising one eyebrow at him, the corner of her mouth twitching, she tilted her head. "I'm not sure. Maybe. We're going someplace very upscale. Maybe he intends to propose." Now the smile was realized. "Though I doubt it, considering he has a girlfriend who could pound him into mush if she wanted." She glanced at the clock on her omni-tool. "I should get going." She started to leave, but swung around, walking backwards. "You know, that's going to sting for a few days. You going to be ready for duty?"

"Always," he assured her, then grinned at her. "Hey, maybe we should get matching."

That stopped her short. "You want me to get an N7 tattoo?" She looked past him, looked at something he couldn't see, brows stringing together. "I had one, once, but… well, you know." She shrugged slightly and offered him that soft smile again. "Great minds think alike, right?"

"That's either a huge compliment for me, or kind of an insult for you, Shepard," he said.

She waggled her finger at him. "Uh uh. You're N7. That means you've proven you've got both." Her omni-tool pinged and she shook her head. "Look, Joker's getting impatient. I'll see you later, okay?"

He couldn't help it. He watched her walk away, only barely managing to keep himself from groaning. The batarian behind him chuckled but said nothing, and it was a damn good thing too, because James didn't want to hear all the things he was thinking said aloud.

Three quarters of an hour later, he was admiring his new tat – fully healed, thanks to medigel – when his tool pinged. Joker came over the comm, asking him to get his ass to the attached address, it's urgent, don't waste any time and even though his voice was as cool as a cucumber, there's something underneath. He gave the batarian his credits and took off running.

At any other time, he'd take in the swanky apartment, but now he just followed the sound of voices until he found Shepard seated at a table, slumped over in a robe and drying her short hair with a towel. She glanced up at him as he entered, and he didn't see any injuries on her. There was a woman next to her – a jumpy, flighty, attractive thing – who he didn't recognize.

"What's going on?"

All attention turned to Shepard, who cleared her throat and managed to be simultaneously sheepish and annoyed. "I was attacked at the restaurant."

"And then," called Joker, "she used her brittle-boned pilot as bait to get out of there. This was right before karma kicked her in the ass for deceiving her loyal companion, and she fell through the aquarium floor and trashed a whole light display."

Shepard leaned around James to get a clear line of sight. "I already apologized."

"As bait, Shepard."

Sighing, she tossed her towel onto the side of the table and looked up at James. "So, having a relaxing shore leave?"

James wasn't having any of that. "Who attacked you?"

"Don't know," said Shepard, "though Brooks and Liara are currently working on solving that particular mystery." She inclined her head towards the two women.

He started to step forward and then stopped himself, something that wasn't unnoticed by Shepard. All of the sudden, he didn't know what to do with his hands, so he crossed his arms. "You okay?"

"Oh please," she said. "Like some two-bit mercs are going to take me down. In case you've forgotten, I stared down a Reaper a few days ago and won." She chewed on her lip. "I'm more curious about who's behind this and, well, why now? The obvious choice would be Cerberus, but this doesn't feel like their style. If there's a new player, I want to know who it is."

"I think I can help you with that," says Doc, and pulled up some message from a guy named Kahn getting angry at some other part and yadda yadda, James didn't really listen because he was too busy looking at Shepard. Of course, the second her eyes came up, he pretended he was doing nothing of the sort. Slowly, it was agreed that Shepard would have to infiltrate some high rolling party, and she looked less than thrilled about the prospect.

"You mean I have to wear a dress?" complained Shepard, slumping over the table, and suddenly the day was looking up for James, who remembered that small, blue number she wore once while in prison.

"It's not so bad," said Sparks. "You looked nice in the one Kasumi bought you that one time." Unsaid went the words, that you never wore again.

"Fighting in a dress is not my idea of a good time," countered Shepard, getting to her feet.

"Then it's a good thing there won't be a lot – or hopefully any – combat this time," said Doc, shutting down her lights display. "Now you just have to decide who you're taking with you."

Nearly a dozen eyes turned to look at Shepard, and James had never seen her more frazzled. She skimmed over all of them, pausing only a fraction of a second long on him – long enough for his blood to beat a little bit faster – before she sighed heavily. "Liara, you're with me. I'm going to need all the help I can get."

A small smile unfurled on Doc's face. "What, you don't want me around for my company?"

Shepard looked positively harassed and righted herself with the most dignity she could manage. "I," she said, "am going to get ready. I need to order a dress from the extranet and make myself look like I belong in high society. Feel free to hang out here guys." She waved a hand at them and disappeared out of the room.

"Well, I'm starving," said Joker. "My last attempt to get food ended up with me playing bait. Anyone want to go get something?" Almost everyone murmured agreement, except for Doc who already seemed to be putting all her plans together.

James waffled. On one hand, he definitely didn't want to miss a chance to see Shepard in a dress and she might need someone to, ah, bounce ideas with. On the other hand, his stomach was rumbling, and there really was no good reason for him to stay. Joker was waiting for his response, and it was his smug little smile that finally tipped the scales in James' head.

"I could use some grub," he said.

Man, was it difficult trying to be personable while thinking of Shepard in her apartment. He didn't doubt that she could take care of herself – today was just another example of that – but he didn't like the thought of her being caught off guard either. If anyone noticed his short temper, they didn't say anything. They perused the Silversun Strip for a bit, but it wasn't really James' scene except for the combat arena, but even that wasn't getting his adrenaline going today.

He was in a shop with Scars and Sparks, picking up mods and putting them back down again when the former suddenly appeared at his shoulder. "Having fun?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," lied James.

"Right," said Scars. "Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to come secure Shepard's apartment with me, but if you're too busy…"

Oh, this turian was a sneaky bastard. James had spent enough time around him by now to know that that weird mandible twitch was his version of a smirk. Crossing his arms, James said, "Oh, you just wait. The second I have some dirt on you, a certain turian is going to have a fun time on the extranet."

"So you're saying there's dirt, then?" inquired Garrus. "Looks like I owe Tali some credits."

"I – you – are we going or not?" James didn't wait for Garrus to answer, wheeling out of the store with entirely too much gusto. If people hadn't known how he felt about Shepard, he was doing a piss poor job of hiding it now.

Part of him, usually the part that made stupid decisions and got into drunken brawls, was saying, who cares if people know? Shepard's an amazing soldier, and more importantly, an amazing woman. This time last year, he would never have imagined that he'd have ever kissed Shepard, never mind fallen in love with her. She was Commander Shepard, and he'd idolized her with a fervor usually reserved for Jesus or the contenders during election time. But that was, well, before. Now he saw Kayleigh Shepard first, and Commander Shepard second.

When they entered the apartment, Doc was already waiting and wearing one of those long dresses asari seemed to favour. James couldn't help himself at wondering about asari beauty regimens, and if they took anywhere as long as human women to get ready.

She smiled at them. "Back already?"

"We wanted to make sure you and Shepard had some muscle on hand if things went south," said Garrus, "and since I have experience holding back a mercenary force in an apartment not dissimilar to this, well, I thought I could be of assistance. Oh, and I'm sure Jimmy here would help too."

"Anyone ever tell you you're an ass, Vakarian?" said James.

"I'm pretty sure I've said it on occasion."

Later, James would realize that this was a scene out of every cheesy film he'd ever been forced to watch, but at the time, his jaw was too busy hitting the ground. Shepard hadn't done much with herself, but that short red dress she wore combined with that slight makeup made her look more feminine than he'd ever seen her. He couldn't decide if he was turned on or weirded out that this was the same woman who put on armour and charged into battle.

He was leaning towards the former.

Shepard, on the other hand, didn't look pleased. Even though she was smokin' hot, with a red dress that clung and flared in all the right places, she looked like she'd rather be just about anywhere else. She stomped down the stairs and glowered at nobody in particular.

"I have nowhere to put my gun," she groused.

"Planning on shooting up the gala, Shepard?" asked Scars.

"Well, no," admitted Shepard, "but I wasn't really planning on falling through a fish tank today either."

Doc's omni-tool sprang to life and she read over a message. "We're going to have to pick up Brooks on the way."

"Yeah, fine," said Shepard, sounding as enthused as she would if someone just told her she needed to re-file her income taxes.

They were almost out the door when James called to her, "Hey, Lola, if you do any dancing, make sure that you take a vid or something. At this rate, I'm never going to see it!"

She threw him the finger over her shoulder and left. He and Scars took to making sure there was nothing suspicious about the apartment, and man, did it require a lot of research. They investigated the fridge, the poker table, the vid screens – all of which took a good few hours, because hey, if you're going to investigate, you might as well be thorough about the whole thing.

They knew Shepard was on her way back when everyone else started showing up. Shepard, Brooks and Doc came back shortly thereafter and informed them that their best lead was dead and that EDI had decrypted the files they'd lifted. They were headed to the archives, though God knew why, and James could see that the whole situation was making Shepard uneasy. She was no detective, and more often than not in his experience, people who wanted her dead tended to be pretty open about it.

"I'm taking James and Wrex on point," she said. "Everybody else will divide into teams. Let's take down this son of a bitch."

Of course, none of them expected a goddamned Shepard-clone to be behind the whole thing. It was like something out of a bad science fiction vid, and James was rapidly starting to understand why the crew was totally nonplussed about shit like rachni and Prothean machines. Shepard kept it together through the mission, though there were lines around her face that he hadn't seen before. She was thrumming like a live wire, and he didn't know if it was from hatred or something else. Knowing her, there were probably a million and five thoughts flying through that pretty head of hers, and knowing her, he'd probably only ever get to hear about one or two, if that.

He didn't see her snap until they were trapped in the vault, staring at the clone and that bitch Brooks on the other side of the force field. Shepard's hands were clenched at her sides, eyes downcast, hidden by hair just long enough now to cover her eyes.

"The minute, the second I get out of here, I'm going to take your head and mount it in the Normandy CIC," said Shepard, and when she finally raised her face, James had to will himself not to take a step back. It was like when Cerberus had invaded the Citadel, only somehow more jagged, like back then she'd been a knife ready to carve out Cerberus' heart and now she was a broken bottle, ready to maim. She gestured to Brooks. "Then, I'm going to mount her head next to yours. Then I'm going to take both your heads and space them out the airlock."

"That might be frightening if it were Commander Shepard saying that… but it's not, not anymore," said Brooks, but though she talked big, there was part of her (the smart part) that wasn't sure.

Shepard took a step forward so that her nose was practically touching the force field. "Oh, you're sadly mistaken if you think she's anywhere near as dangerous as I am, Brooks. I fired my first gun at twelve. Built my first bomb at fourteen. Killed my first man at fifteen. There's no record of this shit, so I'll forgive you for being ignorant, but I learned two lessons real fast back on Earth: how to survive, and how to get payback." She smiled, but it was more a baring of her teeth.

In the end, the clone and Brooks proved themselves to be idiots and Shepard proved why she always came out on top: she was always three steps ahead of everybody else. In the space of minutes where Glyph worked to free them, Shepard's face melted back from rage and into its usual steely resolve.

Wrex cleared his throat. "So, fifteen huh? Not surprised. What was he, a merc? Rival?"

"I don't want to talk about it Wrex," said Shepard in a tone that brokered no argument.

James knew better than anyone that Shepard's past wasn't daisies chains and cupcakes, but he'd never imagined Shepard as, well, as a gangster. He'd never really imagined what it meant for her to grow up on the streets, and what sort of life she'd had. Yeah, he'd figured it would've been hard, but he wondered how much she held back because she wanted to protect them from the depressing nature of her childhood and how much she held back because she was trying to pretend it didn't happen.

The rest of the fight (getting to the Normandy, fighting for the Normandy, and taking out that son of a bitch clone), Shepard fought like a woman possessed. It was clear that whoever had trained the clone had trained her to mirror Shepard's fighting style, but nobody can train genius, and Shepard's tactical and tech skills far outstripped those of her counterpart's. And even though it was ridiculous, even though this whole fucking scenario was batshit crazy, he couldn't help the surge of pride he felt towards her, because what her clone and Brooks seemed to forget in this whole scenario was Kayleigh.

So he was totally on board when Shepard shoved the clone off the edge of the Normandy, and he was almost ready to cheer when she popped not one but six rounds into Brooks after the backstabbing bitch started to get uppity. He grinned at Shepard, expecting a smile or a sigh of relief in return, but she just looked worn thin. She gave them their orders and wandered off.

After shedding his armour, it took him and Estaban the whole evening and the next morning to clear up the mess they'd made of the shuttle bay, with the pilot complaining the whole way. By the time they were done, James realized he hadn't seen Shepard even once in all that time and, throwing Estaban an obscene gesture when the guy smirked, he hopped in the elevator to make sure she was okay. He punched the number for her cabin.

"Shepard is not currently aboard the Normandy," said EDI. "She left for her new apartment twenty minutes ago. She stated that she did not wish to be disturbed. Would you like to choose a new destination instead?"

"Uh, take me to the CIC, I guess," said James, mind somersaulting over the events of the day. Was it smart to follow Shepard? Probably not, but when had James ever been accused of being smart?

He rang her buzzer for what felt like forever before she let him up. She wasn't in the living room, or the kitchen, or the bar. He climbed the stairs slowly and found her in the master bedroom, back to the door, staring at her hands.

"Hey, Lola, you okay?"

"It's not that I regret my time on Earth," said Shepard suddenly, though it sounded like she was the teensiest bit too defensive for him to really believe that, "but… Sometimes I wonder if I've moved on from that person. I went straight from the streets to the Alliance because I couldn't see another way out. What does it say about me that both my life plans involved me putting bullets into other people?"

"Probably the same thing it says about me," said James.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "The people I used to run with, the shit I did… I can't imagine you getting involved with anything like that, not ever."

"Shepard…"

"She wanted so badly to be me," said Shepard, voice tinny, "and she didn't even know what that meant. For all her talk about the cult of Shepard, she was even worse. Did she even try to look up who I was before I was the Commander?" She dropped her head into her hands.

James wasn't sure he was exactly the right person to be talking to about this, since he spent a large portion of his Alliance career being Shepard's number one fanboy. Still, he couldn't just walk away, so he sat himself on the edge of the bed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"It doesn't matter, Lola," said James, squeezing his arm around her. "It doesn't matter who you were then. Look at what you're accomplishing now! You want to know what I saw in the Normandy shuttle bay today? The difference between Kayleigh and people's skewed notion of Commander Shepard."

Shepard relaxed slightly, leaning back against him. She turned her body slightly so that her head came to rest on his shoulder, and James had to force his heartbeat out of his throat. "You're always here when I need you, James. Honestly, it's getting a little annoying. I don't like relying on anybody else, and I especially don't like it when I seem to be doing all the taking."

"The next time my clone comes to kill us all, you can comfort me afterwards, okay?" That earns him a slight smile and all he wants to do is kiss it off her face. "Besides, it's not like I mind." There was a long silence between them that James wanted to fill. He nudged her. "Hey, you want to go take out some Cerberus drones in the combat sim?"

That brightened her disposition considerably. "Hell yeah, I do – but can we get some food first? I haven't had anything except protein bars since before I killed the sushi restaurant."

"Yeah, sure, whatever you want." James stood up and offered her his hand. She considered it for a space of seconds before accepting and he definitely wasn't imagining it when she kept their hands entwined longer than strictly necessary.

They made for the stairs. There was a short pause before Shepard said, with as much hesitancy as he'd ever seen, "Just so we're clear.. This isn't a date, James. I've – I've made my position on romantic entanglements pretty clear."

Aw man, she couldn't even let a guy dream? "Yeah, no, Lola, I got it. Just an a friendly afternoon outing. Between friends. Yeah."

"Good," she said and paused on the step in front of him, throwing a killer smile over her shoulder. "Then there will be no hard feelings when I kill all the goons in the sim. Boom! Headshot."

James frowned at her, and did his best to make it stick. "Says the woman who hides when things get dicey. I bet you wouldn't get half of those kills without your tactical cloak."

Her eyebrows touched her hairline. "Oh really? Care for a friendly wager, LT?"

"You bet your ass," countered James, then immediately shoved his foot into his mouth at her slackjawed smile.

"I'm afraid that's not an option. I was thinking more… two hundred credits?"

"Two hundred?"

"You're an N7 now, James," she said, tone marginally less teasing and slightly more proud. "We play to win."

The artificial sunlight was streaming through her giant windows, catching those few strands of gold in her dark hair and palming its way down her face. Her smile was beautiful, especially in light of the last… Well, since he'd known her, really, and he'd done that. He'd helped create that smile and Jesus Christ, if his old squad could see him fawning over Shepard now, making the punch lines of all their jokes a reality, he'd be done for. Instead, he answered her smile with one of his own and, though he knew he shouldn't, said, "Don't worry Lola, that's the only way I play."

She nodded her head in approval and started back down the stairs. "Good."

Only, he wasn't talking about the combat sim or even the war anymore.

Next Chapter: Shepard goes from being furious with the asari to furious with herself as both she and James try to deal with the reality of Thessia.