A House of Three

Later that night, John Shepard put down his fork and smiled up at his wife. "That was wonderful, Miranda. As always." Miranda smiled at the compliment and went back to clearing the table, bundling all the plates off into the kitchen. Back at the table Ash met his gaze, her eyes dancing with amusement, and he just shrugged. Domesticity had been the last thing he expected when he married Miranda, but it seemed to appeal to little Miri-slut a great deal. By now John and Ashley had learned to just sit back, shake their heads, and enjoy the pampering, although every so often his heart would ache when he saw Miranda especially carefree and relaxed. Like he was getting a glimpse of another Miranda, one that might have been if Henry Lawson hadn't been such as utter bastard or her life more stable. And while she would probably have been much less interesting, there was no denying that that Miranda was also a good deal happier. With that cheerful thought to keep him company, John stood and walked over to the sideboard, opening a decanter of whiskey and pouring himself a generous double with ice. He could feel Ash's eyes on his back, and for a moment his muscles tensed defensively. But she didn't say anything until he'd finished pouring and sat back down at the table. "So." Ash's voice was elaborately casual as she looked at him over the top of her coffee cup. "How was it?" Shepard shrugged and looked down into his glass. "Fine. It was good to see the Admiral again." From the momentary flash in the depths of her eyes, he guessed Ash disagreed with that statement. He took a healthy swallow, savoring the burn down into his stomach. "Can't believe how young some of the crewmen are these days." "Mmm." Ashley regarded him cooly. "And the conference?" He took another sip, then gestured dismissively. "Fine. Low stress. They're sending a task force built around the Sekigahara and the Guadelcanal into the Verge, and they wanted my advice on how to employ the SR-2 class. Low stress." "So Hackett didn't make a pitch?" Shepard laughed. "Of course he made a pitch. My choice of assignments. Command of the Normandy, or a dreadnought, or a Marine brigade. Head of a planetary reconstruction project. Rear Admiral with a fast-track to fleet command. Commandant of the Academy. Thought about asking him if he could swing Secretary-General of the Alliance while he was at it, but I was too afraid he'd say yes." "And you said?" "That I'd think about it. He made the usual noises about the Fleet not being able to wait forever, and we left it there." Ashley's eyes were dark and unreadable when he looked up, and John held up his hand. "Look, it doesn't hurt to keep my options open. I can't sit on my ass forever, Ash. You know that." "No." Ash took a sip of her coffee, her tone still calm and measured. "So if the conference went well, want to tell me why you're hitting the bottle right after dinner?" John wanted to bristle at that, but there was no accusation in her voice, just as there was no sympathy. She wanted to know, and she would. One way or another. Instead he looked back down into his glass with a sigh, almost wincing as he felt a wave of disgust washing over him. The Fleet was still working itself to the bone, and there were billions still digging themselves out from the rubble of colony worlds. If everyone worked really hard and pulled together, their grandkids might be able to have the same standard of living as before the Reapers came. And here he was, living in the lap of luxury and using aged Scotch as anesthetic. Who the hell was he? "John." There was still no edge to Ashley's voice, but it had definitely gotten firmer. She was telling now, not asking. "Ears." "Open." The response was automatic, as was the next. "Eyeballs." "Click." He fixed his gaze on Ashley, able to hold it there without any effort now. The same call-and-response preceded the start of every Marine lecture, class, and briefing from boot camp onward, and it focused his attention on a nerve-deep level. It was also a signal. Until further notice he was limited to yes and no. "Good. Now. Are you back with me?" "Yes, Ash." Always say her name. That was the other rule. "Are you ready to tell me what's been bothering you?" He didn't answer at first. Could he? He didn't even know himself- it was more of a dull, formless ache that had started back on the Denali and just refused to abate. Ashley waited him out, holding her coffee mug just below her lips, still as a statue as he tried to reach under the surface of his mind and grab a particularly slippery fish into his hands. He didn't even think about going down any other pathways. He was under orders, just as much as he'd been as a boot, still enthralled by- Ah. He looked up, finally, and nodded. "Yes, Ash." And felt a little glow in his chest when she favored him with a smile. "Good. If I let you tell me, will you leave again?" John closed his eyes. Took a breath. Waited until it was the truth. "No, Ash." "Go ahead, then." Still poised, patient, perfect. She made him want to obey. Badly enough that he started talking, even when he wanted more than anything to sink back into silence. "It was the first time I'd seen Earth from orbit since the end." She didn't have to ask what the end meant. "I could see the craters. The scars. Big patches of dark where I kept expecting cities to be. We lost so goddamn much, Ash. I couldn't stop looking at it, thinking about what it must have taken to do all that, thinking about millions of people going into those pods every day." He was breathing faster, words tumbling out. "I was standing there looking at it in one of the observation bays, and these kids came up to me. Junior crew, officer candidates, hell, I don't know. They didn't even want to hear stories, or they'd been told not to ask. All they wanted to do was shake my hand, tell me what an honor it was to meet me. They thought I was a hero, Ash. Everyone does. I get all this special treatment, the best food, best booze, respect, and I don't deserve any of it. I could have gone a week earlier. A day. An hour." He ducked his head down, some part of his mind making him put down the glass of whiskey before it spilled. Squeezed his eyes shut, to push back the universe. "But I didn't. And I let all those people die." Long silence, as John kept his eyes shut. Staying alone in the dark. Where he belonged. And then warm, slender fingers cupped under his chin, lifting it until his eyes opened. That was another rule, drummed into him over and over. Never hide from her. Because no matter what he thought of himself, Ashley had told him over and over in that same smooth voice, she would always want to look at him. So he looked up, silent, into chocolate-brown eyes as her hand came down to stroke his head. After a while he had to ask. "Going to tell me not to blame myself?" Ashley shook her head. "Oh, love." Her voice was tender now in a way that made him want to cry. "If it were that simple I'd have given the order long ago. But I know it isn't. You have to get there on your own. And you will. But nothing there-" she reached out and ran her fingers over the glass, "-is going to help." "I know. I'm s-" "Ears." She cut him off, still some warmth in her voice but the tone of command unmistakable. "Open." "Eyeballs." "Click." "Good. Now. Were you going to apologize to me?" "Yes, Ash." No point in denying it. "And is that what I want? You to let me know you feel bad about it?" He knew that one too. But he had to say it. "No, Ash." She smiled and leaned down, kissing him on the forehead. For just a moment she was his lady, bestowing her favor on the knight who fought his own monsters for her sake. "And will you try to do better next time?" He heard the emphasis on try. Ashley never demanded perfection. Or even milestones. The only thing she would not tolerate in her loves was giving up. "Yes, Ash." Her smile was like the sun burning through a raincloud. "Good." She leaned down and kissed him deeply, her hands going to his cheeks. She poured herself into it, letting him feel her breath flow into his lungs, savoring the taste of him against her mouth. At length she drew back, parting reluctantly from him as a hand slid up and down his chest. "Now. I'm going to go take a nice, long shower. Then I'm going to bed. Are you coming?" "Yes, Ash." All he needed to say, right there in the words she'd given him.