If It Meant Living: Tales

"Trenches"

2188: Two Years after the End of the Reaper War

Systems Alliance Operating Base, Watson Colony: Skepsis System, Sigurd's Cradle

James Vega hurried into the Command Center, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders as the door closed behind him. It was too damn cold on Watson for his taste. Next shore leave, Rio. He nodded to himself as he grabbed some coffee from the beverage dispenser, smiling slightly as he took a long sip and felt the warmth spread through his chest and into his veins. Yep. Definitely Rio.

He started to head to his closet, aka "office," when the comm specialist on duty stopped him. "Commander, I'm glad I caught you; you have an incoming priority comm on the QEC from Admiral Hackett."

He glanced over at the man, an eyebrow idly raised. While quantum communications had advanced to a hub-and-spoke style network and the technology had been rolled out to virtually all military bases and starships, QEC comms were still generally reserved for highly sensitive information; he couldn't think of a time he had used it in the four months he had been stationed on Watson.

He reversed direction and walked into the oddly stifling QEC room. Intellectually he knew that it was just because the walls were lined with eight centimeters of sound-absorbing material, as well as active noise-cancelling waves that reverberated in the gap between the double walls; still he found the hyper-silence unnerving. Not his favorite room.

He hit the comm link, straightening his stance and saluting crisply as Hackett's projection materialized, then clasping his hands behind his back in an easy parade rest and nodding brusquely. "Sir."

"Commander. Apologies for the urgent call, but we have a critical situation on Sanctum, and yours is the only squad both close enough to get there in time and capable of dealing with the matter."

He grinned a little. About time for some action; nothing of consequence happened on Watson that didn't involve the local wildlife. "Of course, sir. Glad to help."

Hackett's lips pursed as he paced within the confines of the projection. "You should know, Commander…that's not the only reason I'm turning to you for this mission."

He frowned slightly. "I'm not sure I understand, sir. What's the situation?"

Five minutes later he jogged quickly down the hallway towards the Command Center exit, hitting his comm as he pulled his jacket back over his shoulders. "Echo Squad, this is your Commander. I hope no one is plastered or sleeping one off, because we are wheels up in half an hour. Get your big-boy guns and your cold-weather gear and meet me at the transport on the double."

... ... ...

James clasped Cortez' shoulder warmly but briefly as the man settled into the pilot's chair, taking care to keep it professional – work hours and all.

Steve glanced over the back of the chair and smiled as he began the pre-flight checks. "Hell of short notice, Vega. What's the deal?"

James returned the smile, though it carried a trace of concern that did not go unnoticed by Steve. "We have to go rescue an old friend."

Curiosity thoroughly piqued, Steve was about to prompt him for more information when the final members of the team hopped aboard and James turned to head to the back. "Get us to Sanctum, Esteban – and get us there yesterday."

He stepped into the main compartment of the shuttle, reaching up and grabbing the support bar overhead as they lifted off.

"Okay, boys and girls. This mission is Priority Red, special request straight from the top. It is also Ultra-Super-Secret Classified, so no bragging to your friend-with-benefits about it later."

Stanzia reached over and punched Moren in the arm, cackling in delight as she propped a boot up on the storage bench that ran the length of the shuttle. "You hear that Dmitri? Make sure not to tell your right hand what your left hand did while it was at work today."

Moren cracked a broad grin, unfazed by the barb. "Yeah, well at least my right hand don't run on batteries – " He quickly ducked as a thermal clip flew over his head.

James rolled his eyes in amusement, but cleared his throat nonetheless. It wasn't always easy to remember that he was in command now – a Staff Commander for fuck's sake – and thus no longer 'one of the guys.' He still believed in keeping it real though, so he tried to run an operation that was tight and tough performance-wise but relaxed and informal on a personal level. The last few minutes told him he was succeeding at the latter…today more than ever, he hoped like hell he was succeeding at the former.

"Alright, alright, cut it out ladies. This isn't recess, and it isn't training – this is as serious as it gets, so listen up. We are enroute to Sanctum, a human colony next door in Decoris. Here are the things you need to know: One – it sucks there. It's cold as shit – a hell of a lot colder than Watson – it's prone to gale-force windstorms, and it has a nasty habit of thermal inversions with carbon dioxide spikes, so breather masks are mandatory. Two – ice mining is the only business in town, which means it's dirty and it's rough; none of the colonists are going to be primping for cotillion any time soon."

He let go of the support bar as he felt the shuttle leave Watson's atmosphere and begin speeding through the vacuum of space. "And finally, three – it finds itself with a small Yahg infestation problem. Don't know how they managed it, but somehow they got their claws on at least one starship, which they promptly took to Sanctum and launched a little massacre for shits and giggles."

"Our mission is to get the colonists trapped by the Yahg to safety, reinforce the tiny Alliance contingent currently trying to protect those colonists and stay alive – and lastly, kill all the Yahg. Any questions?"

Dmitri Moren slowly raised his hand; James acknowledged him with a slight nod. "Shoot, Moren."

"Sir…what's a Yahg?"

... ... ...

Vulpes, capital city of Sanctum Colony: Decoris System, Sigurd's Cradle

James quickly motioned everyone into the wrecked building as he flattened against the doorway. The colony looked like it had been hit by an aerial bombing run; he couldn't believe creatures on foot, even Yahg, could cause this much damage at all, much less in a few days. The streets were deserted, save for the bodies lying torn apart in the streets. He knew the Yahg were sentient and intelligent, with a society and technology on par with Earth of 250 years ago, but goddamn they were brutal. He was starting to wonder if there was anyone left alive…

Nah, forget that. There was definitely at least one person still alive; of that he was certain.

The cold, biting wind, howling and fighting against them incessantly for the last half-hour as they had approached the small fortification on the outskirts of the capital city of Vulpes, suddenly stilled. An eerie, calm silence descended as the air became thick and all the oxygen seemed to evaporate –

"Masks on, now!" He yanked his breather mask up, counting as the members of his squad ran past him…18…19…he looked down the street and saw the tiny Japanese engineer struggling with his gear as he stumbled out in the open. "Yimonchi, get your fucking mask on! Shit…"

He took off running, closing the meters between them, grabbing the man's mask that was dangling by a cord from his arm, shoving it up onto his face, and dragging him into the relative safety of the building.

After several deep gasps of oxygen, Yimonchi glanced over at Vega. "Sorry about that, sir…I was trying to get some readings on the atmospheric changes; it's really quite a fascinating phenomenon…"

"Of course you were; damn but you remind me of Sparks way too much sometimes."

"Sir?"

"Just a Quarian I know. Get some oxygen and get back on your game. We still need to get to our objective – and then the real work begins."

The man nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."

He took a deep, calming breath, and pulled up the colony schematic on his Omni-tool. "We're almost to the location of the Alliance…stronghold, such as it is. Two blocks ahead, left for three blocks, down the hill and fifty meters into the cold, icy, fucking wilderness. Everybody ready?"

"Yes, si– " A roar shattered the relative quiet of the abandoned building. James glanced out the cracked window to the street beyond. "Moren, that would be a Yahg. How 'bout we dispose of it?"

... ... ...

Explosions rang out behind him. James grinned to himself, knowing they were the result of the proximity mines he had ordered placed mere moments ago, and had surely resulted in the rending apart of more than one invading Yahg.

He sprinted the final ten meters and slid down the frozen dirt slope into a small gulley, then looked over to his right, wearing a smirk that was in no way hidden by the translucent mask covering his mouth.

"What's an Admiral doing pinned down in a trench on a shithole backwater world like this one?"

Graceyn Shepard sighted down on a Yahg in the distance, squeezed the trigger, and sent a bullet through its skull – which did at least slow it down a bit – then glared over at him.

"Getting my Admiral's ass kicked, obviously." She exhaled heavily and leaned against the embankment-turned-makeshift barricade. "Good to see you James; nice of you to drop in for a visit. Wish the weather was better though, it might limit our sightseeing…"

He took a moment to inspect her. A deep, ragged cut across her forehead had clotted beneath hastily-applied Medi-gel; streaks of dirt covered her face and neck. Her hair was pulled back in a tangled mess of a ponytail; several dark splotches of blood stood out against the lighter red of her hair. The armor plating on one of her gloves was cracked open across the knuckles, the edges of the cracks caked in dried blood. A thin sheen of sweat coated her skin despite the freezing temperatures…but her eyes danced with as much light and fire as they always had. Yep, she was definitely alive. Just as he'd known she would be.

He huffed a laugh. "Shepard, did you punch a Yahg?"

"I might have…" At his look of incredulity, she rolled her eyes, shining in the midst of the dark and the fog. "What? It was in my way."

She flexed her hand then, cringing slightly with the movement. "I don't suppose you brought enough soldiers with you to get us out of this little situation?"

"Hell, Shepard, I figured you and I would be plenty; not like we haven't done it before." He lobbed a frag grenade over his shoulder for good measure as his team took up positions in the encampment. "But I did bring a few friends, just in case…"

"Good; maybe I trained you well enough after all."

His eyes cut over to her. "Yeah, well, who's holed up in the trench and who's doing the rescuing?"

Her shoulders sagged – only very slightly, a few centimeters at most, but enough to be noticeable to someone who knew her well – and for the briefest moment she looked very, very tired. He immediately softened his expression and the tone of his voice. "So what's the sitrep? You seem to be kind of…alone…here."

She gestured towards the scrawny-looking forest that began about fifty meters beyond their location. "I got all the colonists I could back into those woods; the eight remaining Alliance soldiers are protecting them – from anything that gets around me, that is. This gulley is right smack in-between the main colony and those woods, so they pretty much have to come through me to get to the colonists."

"Trying to add 'Hero of Sanctum' to your long list of titles – "

He was abruptly cut off as a Yahg came out of nowhere and dove over the embankment. A grenade was thrown by one of his men, knocking the Yahg off its feet briefly, and Shepard took the opportunity to hurl throws at it repeatedly. The Yahg staggered backwards, pelted with James' shotgun blasts as blue energy pulsed around it.

He spared a sideward glance at Shepard – and found her focused outward, hand thrust forward, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched…much as he had seen her so often during the brief period of time that had changed the course of the universe. And he smiled to himself…because in that moment, he knew they would win. Again.

Nonetheless, he shouted into his comm as the dusk sky lit up in fire. "Moren, Ramirez, Tsanka, target this monster! Yimonchi, Sanchez, Smithson, swing around behind and cut any others off – "

He ducked instinctively as a grenade flew over their heads and into the trench…then Shepard shifted her focus in the blink of an eye and encased the grenade in a stasis field, gently sending it back out to explode harmlessly in the field beyond.

"Hell, Shepard, with mad skills like that why did you need me to rescue you at all – " He emptied the rest of the thermal clip into the staggering Yahg, until at last its head exploded in blood and bone and gore.

He sighed as he wiped pieces of Yahg off his cheek. It had been nearly a year since he had killed an alien; thirty seconds with Shepard and he was already covered in gore…

She wiped the scope on her rifle clean of blood then ejected her own spent thermal clip and reloaded. "Because I can't shield more than half a dozen grenades while protecting more than four dozen colonists in greater than a half-square-kilometer area while armed with only my rifle and my biotics at any given time. And right now, the parameters are a little beyond that…"

He conceded the point with a slight tilt of his head. "Fair enough. Where's Alenko? Isn't he usually with you on these little soirées?"

She peered over the edge of the embankment. "Halfway across the galaxy on Zorya, bailing another Spectre out of trouble. Couldn't make it."

"Okay…" He motioned for Vinern and Ramirez to move to a flanking position at the far end of the trench. "Then how did you end up here?"

She took advantage of the moment of relative quiet to sink back against the frozen dirt. "The Dynamis Corp facility sent out a garbled distress call, which was intercepted by STG, for reasons that were not clear at the time; three hours later, STG sent a muddled request to the Council for a Spectre to investigate."

She pulled her canteen to her mouth, greedily slurping down the ice-cold, nutrient-laced water. "This colony was crawling with Cerberus during the War; seeing as how we're still tracking down and taking out isolated elements, I volunteered. Figured I would requisition the local Alliance platoon if things got dicey…but by the time I arrived, half of them were already dead and the colony was overrun – " she glanced over the ridge " – more on the way, far left."

She suddenly looked back over the ridge again. "Give me some grenades."

He opened his mouth to protest – then remember who he was talking to. "How many?"

Her eyes scanned the area to their left. "Three should get it done." He quickly handed them over.

"Be right back." She took off running, staying below the ridge of the gulley. After about twenty meters she stopped and quickly lobbed the grenades in a tight pattern; they landed about fifteen meters out and exploded harmlessly. She spun around and hurried back, sliding in next to him.

He grumbled in annoyance. "Shepard, I only brought so many grenades…"

She grinned. "Just watch."

Eight seconds later three Yahg appeared out of the darkness. He quickly hit his comm. "Vinern, Ramirez, get ready – "

Shepard placed a hand on his arm. "Just watch."

He suddenly felt like the cocky Lieutenant of three years ago being put in his place again, but he acquiesced and stared out into the growing darkness.

The Yahg barreled towards them. He twitched. One let out a roar – then they disappeared.

He squinted in the dim light, trying to make out where they had gone. Failing, his gaze shot over to her. "Okay. What was that?"

She dropped her head back against the dirt, smirking with the rush of a victory, however small. "Sanctum's equatorial region is dry, sure, but it's not completely without water. I noticed a frozen-over pond in that area when we were running for our lives and I nearly slipped and busted my ass on the ice. It looked like the ice was probably thin enough for the grenades to break it open."

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "And per usual, you were right…" He sank down a bit beside her. "So how did the Yahg get here? I thought they were quarantined and pre-spaceflight."

He could see her mouth tighten behind the mask. "Yeah…that would be my fault."

"Commander? I mean Admir– Shepard, what the hell are you talking about?"

She gazed back at him, and for a second her eyes seemed to bear the weight of far too many difficult decisions. "You remember when we went to Sur'Kesh at the beginning of the War?"

He shrugged. "Sure; nice looking planet. They got really pissed if you touched anything though…"

"While we were there, I discovered research logs indicating that, along with several other nefarious projects, the Salarians were planning to begin covertly uplifting the Yahg. I later made a deal with the Dalatrass – STG engineers for the Crucible Project and the Salarian Fleet for the final battle, in return for my silence." She sighed heavily. "I'd say they went right on along with their plans; probably gave the Yahg a starship as a gesture of goodwill – well, hopefully only one starship anyway."

James nodded tightly. "Our scans on approach indicated only one unregistered ship in the area."

He watched her for a moment – the battle-hardened, beautiful warrior, risen from the grave only to be tested in fire time and time again, yet always finding a way to emerge victorious.

Medical advancements meant that physical scars on a body were now largely a relic of the past, except of course for those whose owners chose for their own reasons to keep them. Her scars would all be on the inside…but only rarely did she give any indication of even their existence. "You did what you had to in order to win the war, Shepard. It was a necessary trade; you know that."

"I do. Doesn't make it any easier to see the bodies." She smiled grimly. "But at least the secret will be out now, and we can bring an end to the Salarians' little project."

The look in her eyes suddenly and without warning shifted from weight and sorrow to focused and calculating. "The ship a Salarian frigate?" At his nod she checked her clips and weapons, then secured her mask firmly. "That means no more than thirty, forty at most of them to start. I've seen at least twenty go down, and I assume you took out a few on your way; they've got to be rather weak by now. Want to make a go at it?"

He huffed a breath. "Hell, yes. Just like old times." He hit his comm. "Echo Team, form up. We're going in."

... ... ...

Six Hours Later

Shepard clasped Cortez in a tight hug. "Steve, it's so good to see you again."

He returned the hug then pulled back slightly. "Same here, Shepard. You look…well, about the same as you always did on a mission pick-up…" She grinned and rolled her eyes melodramatically, making a show of wiping blood and sweat from her brow.

"I'm guessing you need a ride? I'll be happy to take you wherever you need to go."

She patted his shoulder. "Watson will be just fine; I can get a transport from there no problem."

Further conversation was cut off when James grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into the main hold of the shuttle, where his team was securing their gear and settling in. "Time for proper introductions. These are my guys. Shepard – Echo Squad. Echo Squad – Shepard."

Most of them jerked up from whatever they were doing, rushing to straighten their backs and free their hands for salutes.

The fact that she was the youngest Admiral in modern human history – whether you counted the two years she was dead or not – was of course completely overshadowed by the fact that, in a slight-of-hand that would be recounted through the ages, she had done what none in literally billions of years had been able to accomplish; she had defeated the Reapers and freed the inhabitants of the galaxy to at last make their own destiny. The fact that when encountered in person she also happened to be beautiful, charming and disarmingly personable was just icing on the legend.

She returned the salutes, smiling as her chin dipped slightly in appreciation. "At ease, please –you all just saved my life, for which I am most grateful." Her gaze cut over to James, then back to the troops, eyes twinkling with delight. "You guys have got a damn fine Commander, here…just don't tell him I said so; it might go to his head."

Easing into the relaxed atmosphere Shepard was creating, Stanzia smirked at Vega. "Don't think the shuttle will hold him if his head gets any bigger, ma'am."

James spread his arms wide, palms turned upward, and shrugged. "We'll just have to get us a bigger shuttle then, won't we? Come on, Shepard, let's give these miscreants some space before they make too much of a mess drooling over you." He motioned her towards the relative quiet of the back of the shuttle.

She collapsed into the rear jump seat as he sat down opposite her. "So James, it's been, what…eight, nine months? How've you been?"

He groaned. "Bored."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Well…I can see if I can find some more Reapers, or, hell, we could just go attack the Yahg homeworld for shits and giggles. I wouldn't want you to not be entertained…"

His nose scrunched up slightly. "Nah…on second thought, I'm good." He smiled then, with an aura of familiarity born of more than one life and death struggle faced together. "Actually, things have been pretty damn good. Finished up my N4 last month – you really weren't lying, ICT is tough as fuck – and I'm starting to get used to commanding these guys. Managed to get Esteban assigned to the Watson base…and he's not under my command, not really, so…it's working out so far."

She smiled affectionately at him. "I'm glad; it's good to see you two together."

He rolled his eyes to cover his mild embarrassment; he wasn't exactly comfortable talking about relationships and feelings and all that shit, not even with her. "You know, Shepard, it's just a suggestion, but…have you ever thought about, oh I don't know, taking it easy? After all, you did save the galaxy, die, get resurrected, save the galaxy again, and nearly die again. No one would argue if you just wanted to live the good life."

She shrugged lightly, pulling a knee up to her chest and resting her chin on it. "I did take it easy. Kaidan and I went to the mountains in British Columbia; we went to Insai'sei, to Trident, to Elysium; we practically took a tour of the galaxy's most beautiful locales. And it was amazing and wonderful, all of it, and I'm sure we'll do it again. But…"

"But what?"

"But what the hell else are we going to do for the next however many hundred years? Sit in lounge chairs on the beach and sip champagne? I'm a marine – and so is he. It's what we do."

His head tilted a bit, the slightest challenge in his voice. "That and you couldn't live without the adrenaline rush? Or was it the attention?"

She chuckled lightly, not appearing to take offense at the insinuation. "I'm not going to lie to you – more often than not, I'm having a damn good time. And the power, the ability to influence people and events? It's pretty fucking cool. But…"

She pulled the other knee up to join the first, draping her arms over them. "After I blew up the Collector Base, Liara asked me why I fought, why I willingly took on such heavy burdens. And the answer was and still is: I fight because I can, when so many others cannot. Yes, because I'm damn good at it – but because that means in doing so, I give all those who can't fight the chance to live their lives – good lives, raising their children, achieving great things or small things – all without having to worry about horrific threats they can do nothing to change. Because I can change them."

He stared at her incredulously as his head shook. "Damn, Shepard, way to go all deep on me. I mean, I get it, I fight to save people too, and because – well, you know my past. But if it's all the same to you, I'm not going to think any harder on it and just move on."

She let go of her knees and stretched her legs out across the floor. "Uh-huh. Forgive me if near-death experiences bring out the philosopher within."

"Yeah, I don't have one of those." He stood up suddenly, grabbing the overhead bar and swinging idly. "Still, the lounge chairs and champagne have got to be pretty damn tempting; I know right about now I could probably be talked into that…" He felt her gaze piercing into his skull, and sighed audibly. "Ah, hell, what am I saying? I'd be bored in two weeks flat."

His head cocked to the side. "Actually, did I mention that I was bored now? The truth is this was the first real combat I've seen since…I don't even know…"

He chuckled briefly as he sat back down opposite her. "This what happens when we've won all the battles? Killed all the bad guys?"

She raised a disputing eyebrow. "These cuts and bruises would beg to differ with your assessment of the situation…" Her voice trailed off, gaze drifting to the floor as her eyes narrowed.

James stared at her. "Uh-oh."

She glanced up at him. "What?"

"I know that look. You're up to something."

The corners of her mouth pulled up slightly. "Maybe…I need to do some more thinking." She stood up as the shuttle's trajectory leveled off, pacing slowly around the back of the shuttle. "But hypothetically…say I was to be able to offer you a little more excitement in your life. Would you be interested?"

He grinned, already imagining the possibilities. "Considering your definition of excitement? Just say the word."

The Citadel: Widow System, Serpent Nebula – Three Days Later

Shepard walked into Councilor Anderson's office and plopped down on the couch, crossing one leg casually over the other and draping an arm on the cushion. He was on his comm, and she waited patiently for him to finish.

"…yes, I know that the Batarians' infrastructure is still in disrepair…we are of course committing a number of funds to the effort, but the Council's resources are not infinite…yes, I'll make sure the matter is discussed at the next meeting…"

He cut the link, squeezing his eyes shut and massaging his temples. "Shepard, remind me again why you talked me into taking this job, again?"

"Because you're still the best representative humanity has…" her eyes twinkled deviously "…and because you drive the other Councilors nuts, and that's never getting old."

"Oh come on, Sparatus is the only original Councilor still around, and he's unflappable."

She shrugged. "Yeah, but you drive the new Councilors nuts too, don't you?"

His eyes narrowed threateningly. "If you take such pleasure from annoying them, why don't you be the Councilor? I'm sure – "

She cut him off with a vehement shake of her head. "Nooooo, thank you. I'm having far too much fun running around doing whatever the hell I want."

Her expression grew serious then, even tender. Over the years this man had been many things to her: savior, mentor, martyr, adversary, reluctant ally, champion, protector…and finally, dear friend. "You're a great Councilor, Anderson, whether you want to admit it or not…and besides, after all you went through on Earth, I thought maybe you'd had enough fighting for a while."

He slowly let out a breath as his gaze seemed to drift to a faraway place. "Enough for a lifetime, perhaps…" After a few seconds he cleared his throat and straightened up his chair. "Now, you didn't come here to talk about me – what do you need?"

She smiled, and it was that wicked smile that let him know immediately he was surely in trouble. "I can't just drop in for no reason to see a friend?"

"Sure, you can – but I know that look, and this is not a social call."

"What, do I have my thoughts written in capital letters on my forehead or something? Between you and James, I'm suddenly feeling too clever by half." She sighed dramatically, hands rising in concession. "Fine…I have a request."

He huffed a laugh. "Uh-oh. Okay, lay it on me."

She nodded, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward, dropping her elbows to her knees. "I need a squad."

He frowned slightly. "Unless things have changed recently, I'm fairly certain that as an Admiral you can have a squad whenever you want."

She shook her head. "That's not what I mean. I just got my ass kicked on Sanctum because we had bad intel, insufficient support and manpower, and crossed lines of communication. Too many soldiers and civilians died because we weren't equipped to deal with the situation – and I do not intend to be put in that position again."

Her gaze shifted to the open ledge and to the Presidium sky beyond. "Everyone's been playing nice and cozy since the end of the War, but that isn't going to last forever; the truth is, the galaxy is still a very dangerous place."

Her eyes returned to meet his. "So here's what I want: an elite, multi-species rapid response force, under the purview of the Council. It will – "

"You want to militarize the Council? Everyone may be playing nice and cozy, but I'm not sure we're ready for that just yet."

"I know, and that's not what I'm suggesting; not really. I'm talking no more than a hundred personnel; they would stay attached to their respective militaries, only being called into action when needed – and for regular and intensive training, of course. It would exist largely under the radar – not black ops, but discrete. And it would have independent authority. Any sovereign government and the Council could request its intervention in a situation – and it could refuse."

His eyes widened incredulously. "Refuse the Council?"

She smirked a little, chin dipping slightly. "Maybe that can be a matter for further negotiation. The important thing is that it would consist of the best soldiers in the galaxy and would be able to respond rapidly and efficiently to any crisis that arises."

He mulled it over a moment. "The Spectres are already capable of dealing with many of the problems that come up…"

She shook her head slowly. "Spectres are lone wolves. That's what makes us so good at what we do; we can use stealth, assassination, negotiation, sabotage or whatever else fits the situation. But the Spectres are not an army. I'm talking about a military force for dealing with situations that a Spectre already can't handle."

He idly rocked his chair, fingertips pressed together at his chin as he pondered the idea. "And you would lead this little army, I presume?"

She leaned back into the couch, laughing in delight. "Hell yes, I would."

... ... ...

Kaidan unlocked the door and opened it quietly, not wanting to wake Graceyn if she was sleeping. He exhaled softly and smiled to himself as he stepped inside, grateful to be home.

He found Shepard very much awake. She was standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the Ward arms and the nebula beyond, a glass of wine in one hand, her other arm resting across her waist. She wore only a white tank top and faded gray shorts that hugged her curves as if they were custom-made for her. It surely wasn't possible that she had grown more beautiful in the few brief weeks since he had last seen her…yet he couldn't deny the truth in front of him.

He dropped his bag absently on the floor and approached her as she turned around. She smiled tenderly as his arms encircled her waist, hers draping over his shoulders. "Welcome home…" Her voice drifted off as his lips met hers in a slow, gentle, yet needful kiss. Welcome home.

And for perhaps the thousandth time in the last two years, he realized anew that it had all been worth it – the struggles, the loss, the fear, the pain. Everything. It would be worth it a million times over, for this feeling, right here.

He was smiling when she pulled back slightly, her gaze drifting to the still-healing gash along his jaw. Her fingertips carefully traced it as her eyes returned to his. "Zorya a little more exciting than you were expecting?"

"Maybe a little." His hand mirrored hers then, lightly caressing the still-healing cut along her forehead. "Sanctum a little more exciting than you were expecting?"

Her lips curled up in a crooked grin. "Maybe a little."

She dropped her forehead against his. "I tell you what. We will each recount our respective adventures in full, bloody detail to one another…" His voice joined hers, whispering in unison as he closed the centimeter of distance between them.

"…tomorrow."