If the seas catch fire, part 1
anonymous
February 20 2012, 19:46:45 UTC
Another fill, apparently.
---
x.
“Welcome aboard, Shepard.”
“Thanks.”
She looks down at the dog tag in her hands, her own name glaring up at her. The turmoil as the ship takes off makes it hard to read the letters but she knows they're there, firmly there, like a reminder of a past she seems to have lost. No reinstatement in the galaxy can cure that sensation or mend that breach. Too much distrust has risen between them lately - between fleets and fractions, commanders and soldiers, between Shepard and the rest of the Alliance.
“Did you know he wasn't coming with us?”
Kaidan observes her for a moment before responding. His voice is low and there's the familiar trace of restraint in it but something else too, something a little more polished than she remembers. He carries himself with an extra layer of gravity these days, a new raster of confidence to match his rank. Major Alenko. He has always been a career man. I'm proud of you, she thinks but there seems to be no way of actually saying it so she merely meets his gaze
( ... )
Re: If the seas catch fire, part 2
anonymous
February 20 2012, 19:48:00 UTC
x.
They have been aboard the Normandy for eleven hours and the situation still hasn't settled in her bones but she's already familiarized herself with the crew, has tried to force their faces and voices into her head in the same manner she always does.
My people. Routine-compassion and standardized dedication to cover up the overwhelming confusion they all feel
( ... )
If the seas catch fire, part 3
anonymous
February 20 2012, 19:50:27 UTC
x.
Normandy isn't the same.
The low hum from the engine seems wrong somehow, its rhythm different to her ears. Perhaps, she tells herself, she’s just unused to it after so long behind that damn desk. Waiting, reading, watching and then eventually turning papers while looking over her shoulder for the invasion - if someone had told her five years ago that she’d ever endure that kind of thing, she’d have laughed.
But as it turns out, things change. At least in some ways, although the Systems Alliance is still the same blunt, bloated and sprawling organisation with the same narrow little paths for people like her to worn their way through, protocol be damned. And the appropriate condemnation of that very behaviour, of course. The shit you've done, Shepard. “Coffee?” Kaidan’s voice interrupts her irritation and she looks up, instinctively reaching for the mug he holds out to her - brimful of extra strong black coffee by the look and smell of it. "Three sweeteners, don't worry
( ... )
If the seas catch fire, part 4
anonymous
February 20 2012, 19:53:15 UTC
Kaidan sits back, lowers his mug and looks at her. “You went there in good faith, Shepard. You followed orders. No one doubts that.”
She winces into her coffee. This bitterness, harsh and sour in her chest, is her latest asset and she loathes it already. She's made for many things, but spite isn't one of them. Just give me a couple of days, she bargains with herself. A little time to forget the latest round of DNA-testing and interrogation and I'll be fit for fight.
“Oh, they don't? That was news to me, Major.”
“We've never pulled ranks, Shepard.” He gives her an unreadable glance that is betrayed by the harshness of his voice, thick with held-back emotion. “Don't call me that.”
She exhales, cradling the mug in her hands to have something to do, something to focus on besides the flurry of unwanted memories. “I'm just... Anderson's right, the only thing that stands between me and a permanent holiday groundside is his good word. I'm just so fucking tired of being distrusted
( ... )
If the seas catch fire, part 5
anonymous
February 20 2012, 19:56:03 UTC
“Media's going to freak the hell out over this.” The reality of it hits her as she speaks the words and she remembers seeing herself on those wide screens everywhere, declared so many different things over the years that she's lost track or at least pretended to forget some of the names. Bury them where she buries everything else for that later that never comes. “We need a strategy for that, too.”
“You're right,” Kaidan says, his voice coloured with distaste.
“Fighting for survival just isn't the same without a good serving of propaganda. You know how it is.”
He looks up, looks straight at her, and smirks a little despite the topic. She returns the half-smile with one of her own. And for a moment everything is like it used to be; she feels herself change, bleed into the image of the past where they'd crack desperate, sarcastic jokes about mutiny and capital offences because nothing else had made any senseNothing makes any sense this time around either, but she finds that laughing is much harder than it used to be
( ... )
If the seas catch fire, part 6
anonymous
February 20 2012, 19:57:37 UTC
“Cerberus tracks all outgoing messages,” she explains when he's not picking up the conversation again. She takes a deep, uneven breath. “I tried to cut all ties to protect you. All of you. I didn't want any more set-ups; Horizon was bad enough
( ... )
If the seas catch fire, part 7
anonymous
February 20 2012, 19:59:04 UTC
x.
In her memory, there's this:
The quiet mutiny in everything they do, the uproar in his hands settling around her waist and her fingers mapping out the plane of his back that is warm and hard under her fingertips. The memory of his fingers in turn, mapping the way from her right breast to an impatient groan.
She has always wanted everything and here it is.
It's in the inches of skin, the small rises and crooks of unexpected scars; the way he touches and the way his breath catches as she slowly rocks them over the edge once more, one final time, a lame joke about stamina falling from her lips and his smile then, exhausted and wide-open.
“When this is over...” She breathes heavily, her lips brushing over the damp hair on his chest. “I have a list of about a hundred things I'd like to do with you.”
“Only a hundred?” She can still hear traces of what they've just done in his voice, just as she can taste herself on his tongue, smell him on her hands. “Disappointing, ma'am.”
If the seas catch fire, part 8
anonymous
February 20 2012, 20:00:24 UTC
x.
“Here we go then,” he says, pausing for a second outside the Citadel tower. “Looks like we're all alone again.”
Shepard shrugs. She's past the point of managing to hide her uncertainty and it changes another pattern between them, reshaping all the little things that make them who they are to each other.
“Aren't we usually? The rank outsiders.”
“I don't think you've ever qualified as a rank outsider, Shepard.” He shakes his head, half-amused, half-dejected. She battles the urge to reach out and touch his face, hoping that by soothing it, she will soothe herself.
“The war isn't over yet.”
“No.” When he says it, it sounds like a sigh and she holds his gaze as she manages to catch it, wrapping one hand around his wrist. The corners of his mouth twitch.
There is mutiny is this, too. Their lives have always been shaped by oaths and outlined by regulations, orders, creeds. Even on the original Normandy, even as they broke all rules they had learned by heart - and occasionally mistaken for eternal truths - they had been
( ... )
If the seas catch fire, part 9 (fin)
anonymous
February 20 2012, 20:01:21 UTC
x.
Nothing is the same, but eventually everything's similar enough.
In the end, it's all about reclamation.
In her memory, he is precisely the same: his way of framing his intent with formalities, masking his questions with neutrality, levelling out everything with diplomacy and reason. His self-control, his dry sense of humour tickling at the back of her mind, the way he says her name when no one listens.
His mouth looks the same, the cadence of his voice unmistakably right when he speaks
( ... )
Re: If the seas catch fire, part 9 (fin)
anonymous
February 21 2012, 19:52:23 UTC
p.s.: same anon as above wondering if you've written other stuff, as I'd really like to read them! (judging by your "another fill" comment, I'm assuming you have!)
Re: If the seas catch fire, part 9 (fin)
anonymous
March 8 2012, 10:28:33 UTC
This was beautiful and heartbreaking. There were so many little bits that were just perfect.
"In her memory, he is precisely the same: his way of framing his intent with formalities, masking his questions with neutrality, levelling out everything with diplomacy and reason. His self-control, his dry sense of humour tickling at the back of her mind, the way he says her name when no one listens."
---
x.
“Welcome aboard, Shepard.”
“Thanks.”
She looks down at the dog tag in her hands, her own name glaring up at her. The turmoil as the ship takes off makes it hard to read the letters but she knows they're there, firmly there, like a reminder of a past she seems to have lost. No reinstatement in the galaxy can cure that sensation or mend that breach. Too much distrust has risen between them lately - between fleets and fractions, commanders and soldiers, between Shepard and the rest of the Alliance.
“Did you know he wasn't coming with us?”
Kaidan observes her for a moment before responding. His voice is low and there's the familiar trace of restraint in it but something else too, something a little more polished than she remembers. He carries himself with an extra layer of gravity these days, a new raster of confidence to match his rank. Major Alenko. He has always been a career man. I'm proud of you, she thinks but there seems to be no way of actually saying it so she merely meets his gaze ( ... )
Reply
x.
They have been aboard the Normandy for eleven hours and the situation still hasn't settled in her bones but she's already familiarized herself with the crew, has tried to force their faces and voices into her head in the same manner she always does.
My people. Routine-compassion and standardized dedication to cover up the overwhelming confusion they all feel ( ... )
Reply
Normandy isn't the same.
The low hum from the engine seems wrong somehow, its rhythm different to her ears. Perhaps, she tells herself, she’s just unused to it after so long behind that damn desk. Waiting, reading, watching and then eventually turning papers while looking over her shoulder for the invasion - if someone had told her five years ago that she’d ever endure that kind of thing, she’d have laughed.
But as it turns out, things change. At least in some ways, although the Systems Alliance is still the same blunt, bloated and sprawling organisation with the same narrow little paths for people like her to worn their way through, protocol be damned. And the appropriate condemnation of that very behaviour, of course. The shit you've done, Shepard.
“Coffee?” Kaidan’s voice interrupts her irritation and she looks up, instinctively reaching for the mug he holds out to her - brimful of extra strong black coffee by the look and smell of it. "Three sweeteners, don't worry ( ... )
Reply
She winces into her coffee. This bitterness, harsh and sour in her chest, is her latest asset and she loathes it already. She's made for many things, but spite isn't one of them. Just give me a couple of days, she bargains with herself. A little time to forget the latest round of DNA-testing and interrogation and I'll be fit for fight.
“Oh, they don't? That was news to me, Major.”
“We've never pulled ranks, Shepard.” He gives her an unreadable glance that is betrayed by the harshness of his voice, thick with held-back emotion. “Don't call me that.”
She exhales, cradling the mug in her hands to have something to do, something to focus on besides the flurry of unwanted memories. “I'm just... Anderson's right, the only thing that stands between me and a permanent holiday groundside is his good word. I'm just so fucking tired of being distrusted ( ... )
Reply
“You're right,” Kaidan says, his voice coloured with distaste.
“Fighting for survival just isn't the same without a good serving of propaganda. You know how it is.”
He looks up, looks straight at her, and smirks a little despite the topic. She returns the half-smile with one of her own. And for a moment everything is like it used to be; she feels herself change, bleed into the image of the past where they'd crack desperate, sarcastic jokes about mutiny and capital offences because nothing else had made any senseNothing makes any sense this time around either, but she finds that laughing is much harder than it used to be ( ... )
Reply
Reply
x.
In her memory, there's this:
The quiet mutiny in everything they do, the uproar in his hands settling around her waist and her fingers mapping out the plane of his back that is warm and hard under her fingertips. The memory of his fingers in turn, mapping the way from her right breast to an impatient groan.
She has always wanted everything and here it is.
It's in the inches of skin, the small rises and crooks of unexpected scars; the way he touches and the way his breath catches as she slowly rocks them over the edge once more, one final time, a lame joke about stamina falling from her lips and his smile then, exhausted and wide-open.
“When this is over...” She breathes heavily, her lips brushing over the damp hair on his chest. “I have a list of about a hundred things I'd like to do with you.”
“Only a hundred?” She can still hear traces of what they've just done in his voice, just as she can taste herself on his tongue, smell him on her hands. “Disappointing, ma'am.”
“Don't 'ma'am'' me, soldier ( ... )
Reply
“Here we go then,” he says, pausing for a second outside the Citadel tower. “Looks like we're all alone again.”
Shepard shrugs. She's past the point of managing to hide her uncertainty and it changes another pattern between them, reshaping all the little things that make them who they are to each other.
“Aren't we usually? The rank outsiders.”
“I don't think you've ever qualified as a rank outsider, Shepard.” He shakes his head, half-amused, half-dejected. She battles the urge to reach out and touch his face, hoping that by soothing it, she will soothe herself.
“The war isn't over yet.”
“No.” When he says it, it sounds like a sigh and she holds his gaze as she manages to catch it, wrapping one hand around his wrist. The corners of his mouth twitch.
There is mutiny is this, too. Their lives have always been shaped by oaths and outlined by regulations, orders, creeds. Even on the original Normandy, even as they broke all rules they had learned by heart - and occasionally mistaken for eternal truths - they had been ( ... )
Reply
Nothing is the same, but eventually everything's similar enough.
In the end, it's all about reclamation.
In her memory, he is precisely the same: his way of framing his intent with formalities, masking his questions with neutrality, levelling out everything with diplomacy and reason. His self-control, his dry sense of humour tickling at the back of her mind, the way he says her name when no one listens.
His mouth looks the same, the cadence of his voice unmistakably right when he speaks ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
(I have written a lot of stuff but not for the meme and I never know if it's okay to break the anon cover around here. )
/anon author
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This was beautiful.
Reply
"In her memory, he is precisely the same: his way of framing his intent with formalities, masking his questions with neutrality, levelling out everything with diplomacy and reason. His self-control, his dry sense of humour tickling at the back of her mind, the way he says her name when no one listens."
Loved this part.
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