Re: Fill for Autonomous Natal Care Unit #429 1/?
anonymous
June 8 2014, 18:36:53 UTC
“John, we’re going to be late,” Kaidan repeated again with an exasperated huff.
“He’s not here yet,” Shepard reasoned with a sigh.
He would have expected at least some measure of reliability when it came to them at least.
Shepard paused for a moment, lifting the rich fabrics of the curtains that covered the front of their home on Earth, quickly scanning the front of his yard for any signs of their now later arrival. He let his gaze wander about as he prepared for another round of complaints from Kaidan, but he knew that the man was just being impatient, especially since they were supposed to be the guests of honour.
It had been close to five years since the end of the Reaper War. Life had been almost idyllic for him since then, especially considering just how devastating things had almost turned out for the both of them. After the Crucible had activated, Shepard had fallen, both content and despairing over the choice that he had had to make. Control, synthesis and destroy. He had thought that he would not be outliving his decisions, but it seemed that sometimes, fate was a kind mistress that would push him back onto his feet.
The remnants of the fleets that he had gathered, unable to leave the Sol system due to the destruction of the mass relays, had returned to Earth to begin salvaging and saving what and who they could. It had been a monumental undertaking, taken up by a monumental coalition, and it was one of these rag tag rubble pickers that had discovered the collapsed remains of the Citadel. The casualty lists had been overwhelming and most of them had been instructed to search for bodies and salvageable material rather than survivors. In fact, he had been the only survivor that they had picked up at the epicentre of the blast, and that term was a very generous word considering that he was holding on to life through sheer force of will, a life line that was sheerer than wind and attached stubbornly to a name, a name he had promised he would fight to return to. To spend a life with.
It had taken half a year just to get him to eat anything beyond an IV and liquid nutrients and he had felt both flattered and aggravated that such a large quantity of resources had been spent, yet again, in making sure he pulled through into more stable and safer zones. If it hadn’t been for the copious amounts of cybernetics laced through, Shepard would have doubted he’d have even regained consciousness, had he been given a full year. It was also during this time that the Normandy had limped back into the Sol system, hazardously weaving through stars like a wounded drunk returning home. Had it not been for the fact that the Normandy was a self-sustaining, state-of-the-art ship that was capable of FTL under its own power, he would have doubted that they would have been able to make it back within the next five years, let alone relatively unscathed. And it helped that their blind jump through the relays had only resulted in their being stranded in a neighbouring star system.
The reunion had been beyond bliss.
Kaidan had looked like he always did in Shepard’s fevered dreams, though his limp through the doorway of one of Earth’s many makeshift hospitals had sent alarm racing through Shepard. No words had been exchanged, no tears and grief. It was closed to them now, the past and the pain, and Shepard let himself drown in the sensation of just being with Kaidan, breathing in the scent and feel of the man as he wallowed in a very rare feeling for him; contentment. Contentment and victory.
The years since then had flown by, so rich and full that it was both fleeting and permanent.
“He’s not here yet,” Shepard reasoned with a sigh.
He would have expected at least some measure of reliability when it came to them at least.
Shepard paused for a moment, lifting the rich fabrics of the curtains that covered the front of their home on Earth, quickly scanning the front of his yard for any signs of their now later arrival. He let his gaze wander about as he prepared for another round of complaints from Kaidan, but he knew that the man was just being impatient, especially since they were supposed to be the guests of honour.
It had been close to five years since the end of the Reaper War.
Life had been almost idyllic for him since then, especially considering just how devastating things had almost turned out for the both of them. After the Crucible had activated, Shepard had fallen, both content and despairing over the choice that he had had to make. Control, synthesis and destroy. He had thought that he would not be outliving his decisions, but it seemed that sometimes, fate was a kind mistress that would push him back onto his feet.
The remnants of the fleets that he had gathered, unable to leave the Sol system due to the destruction of the mass relays, had returned to Earth to begin salvaging and saving what and who they could. It had been a monumental undertaking, taken up by a monumental coalition, and it was one of these rag tag rubble pickers that had discovered the collapsed remains of the Citadel. The casualty lists had been overwhelming and most of them had been instructed to search for bodies and salvageable material rather than survivors. In fact, he had been the only survivor that they had picked up at the epicentre of the blast, and that term was a very generous word considering that he was holding on to life through sheer force of will, a life line that was sheerer than wind and attached stubbornly to a name, a name he had promised he would fight to return to. To spend a life with.
It had taken half a year just to get him to eat anything beyond an IV and liquid nutrients and he had felt both flattered and aggravated that such a large quantity of resources had been spent, yet again, in making sure he pulled through into more stable and safer zones. If it hadn’t been for the copious amounts of cybernetics laced through, Shepard would have doubted he’d have even regained consciousness, had he been given a full year. It was also during this time that the Normandy had limped back into the Sol system, hazardously weaving through stars like a wounded drunk returning home. Had it not been for the fact that the Normandy was a self-sustaining, state-of-the-art ship that was capable of FTL under its own power, he would have doubted that they would have been able to make it back within the next five years, let alone relatively unscathed. And it helped that their blind jump through the relays had only resulted in their being stranded in a neighbouring star system.
The reunion had been beyond bliss.
Kaidan had looked like he always did in Shepard’s fevered dreams, though his limp through the doorway of one of Earth’s many makeshift hospitals had sent alarm racing through Shepard. No words had been exchanged, no tears and grief. It was closed to them now, the past and the pain, and Shepard let himself drown in the sensation of just being with Kaidan, breathing in the scent and feel of the man as he wallowed in a very rare feeling for him; contentment. Contentment and victory.
The years since then had flown by, so rich and full that it was both fleeting and permanent.
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