Parallax

A/n: It’s back! It’s rewritten! It’s been TOO LONG! I don't know why I didn't tell all of you here at AFF about what happened, but to sum it up, I lost my flashdrive that had all my fanfics on it. That's why this chapter was delayed for so long.
As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate reviews, but I understand not everyone does that for one reason or another. The hits counter lets me know that people do read this story. Anyway, just something to think about... reviews are appreciated, yadda yadda:P


The Mako rumbled smoothly into Port Hanshan just as Pax was in the middle of setting over the frigid planet’s horizon. Shepard heard the garage door open and felt the terrain change to smooth concrete; she knew she had to wake up. But the Mako was so warm and wonderful and the lighting of Pax was soft and soothing. She inhaled deeply to the smell of the rover’s upholstery, gun cleaner, and a hint of something familiar and comforting, yet unnamed. Shepard scrunched her eyes and decided to play ‘name that smell’. Kaidan turned off the rover and reached over to gently wake Shepard from her nap; inquisitive eyes greeted him.

“It’s you,” she said, her voice soft from sleep. She sniffed him lightly then twisted in her seat to pop her back.

“What’s me?” he asked. Kaidan tried to not eye the woman in front of him as she thrust her breasts out to stretch.

“You,” she replied, not caring to elaborate.

Shepard inhaled deeply again, this time privately savoring her Lieutenant’s scent.

Home.

Since when did she associate the way he smelled with home? What was home like anyway? She’d never had a home before.

Reality came rushing back to Shepard when a blast of cold air slapped her across the face. Kaidan’s scent lingered for a brief moment then left as the cold air brought the scents of the foreign garage. It was time to leave.

She exited the Mako and shut the impossibly tough door with a heave. Shepard’s feet carried her over to the garage window where the Lieutenant waited. There was something unreadable in his somber expression as he gazed at Noveria’s bleak terrain. Though the Commander couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking, she was very aware that he had mentally checked out on her.

For a moment, Shepard contented herself with watching him. The light of the setting Pax illuminated his Mediterranean features. Interestingly enough, the hair she once thought to be dark brown stood out as a shiny black. He turned his eyes to meet hers. They reminded her of sun-brewed iced tea that had been left out all day. Their eyes remained in contact; she figured out what seemed to be bothering him.

“Your head hurts today,” she mumbled, her hand reaching behind his head to the base of his skull.

He nodded briefly. Shepard’s hand gently massaged the place where his implants lay; his eyes slid shut in response.

“I’ll be fine,” he opened his eyes and smiled at her.

Shepard furrowed her brow, completely unconvinced by his declaration. She stepped back, put her hands on her hips and waited for him to explain himself.

“Look,” Kaidan sighed and leaned in, “you have a lot to worry about right now. I’m fine. It’s not bad enough to slow me down.” His arms reached around her shoulders as he drew her into a quick hug.

“Kaidan, you’re a sweetheart,” she smiled.

Hooking her arm in his, she led him to the door. Shepard glanced back at the garage. In her peripheral, she saw that her Lieutenant held both of their bags.

“Seriously,” she said, leaning in to hug him, “you’re a sweetheart.”

His response was little more than a shy nod.

They ambled through the main plaza, arm in arm. Shepard inhaled deeply as they passed one of the many zen-like water sculptures. A warm mist gently rose from the decorative rocks, reminding the Commander of a sauna. She supposed the water sculptures weren’t just for show; with how cold and dry the atmosphere on Noveria was, the sculptures seemed to be functional as warm humidifiers. Warm, moist air in the midst of a wintry setting was definitely something that all species could agree on. Shepard nodded to herself as they passed by the public extranet terminals to reach the elevator to the hotel lobby.

The elevator doors closed behind them with a light swoosh, the movement stirring up the air. Slowly, the elevator trekked to its destination. Shepard shifted her weight in impatience. They should have taken the stairs.

She blinked, realizing that not once in her observations of Port Hanshan had she seen a complete stairwell.

Wasn’t this a safety hazard? What if the building caught on fire?

No, the building was made of stone. It couldn’t catch on fire. But if it was gassed for some reason, perhaps by an ‘experiment gone awry’, then the elevators would be a major safety hazard. In fact, they’d be turned into a…

“Gas chamber of death,” Shepard mumbled.

“Ma’am?” Kaidan blinked and recoiled slightly from the woman on his arm.

“Just thinking out loud,” she smiled and detached her arm from his.

The elevator doors opened to reveal the hotel’s main lobby. There, among the numerous, scurrying business persons, sat a familiar face. Shepard jogged over to him, nearly tripping in her haste.

“Mr. Qui’in!” she beamed, “how have you been, sir?”

The turian looked up from his reading.

“Shepard. It’s always a pleasure,” he inclined his head toward the seat in front of him, “please, sit down. Let us talk.”

She looked over at Kaidan. His brows were drawn inward, causing a set of wrinkles to form between his squinting eyes. The Lieutenant had the overall countenance of one who was queasy. Shepard shuffled over to him and placed her hand on his arm. It was almost frightening how his headaches could quickly turn into full-blown migraines from just one thing that triggered it.

“What’s wrong? You’re not fine, are you?” she mumbled, peering up into his eyes.

“It’s fine, I think I’ll just go and try to sleep it off,” Kaidan’s voice came out strained as if it was too loud for his own ears.

“Alright,” Shepard replied and reached up to gently hug him, “some time alone in the dark might help. I’ll be here for a while. Send me a message if you need anything.”

He nodded in response and for a brief moment, he wondered if the movement was going to kill him. Turning, he walked toward the staircase. Each footfall reverberated throughout his skull as if it was underwater; perhaps the pressure that was squeezing his brain into oblivion would be let out by way of his ears popping. He peered up at the daunting staircase and steeled himself against the nausea that climbed its way up his throat. Slowly, his leaden legs trudged up the stairs as his arms gripped the railing with all their might.

Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko had faced off against a race of sentient machines. He’d committed mutiny to help save the galaxy from certain destruction. He’d become proficient at killing; as a biotic, he had to visualize exactly what he would do to the enemy before he did it. These things were of little consequence.

No, it was days like this that tested him beyond anything he’d ever faced.


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Shepard watched her Lieutenant until he disappeared from view. She hadn’t seen him like this in a long time; in fact, he seemed to have migraines less often than when they’d first met. Perhaps the substantial increase in his power and training had something to do with it, but Shepard couldn’t be too sure. Whatever it was, she hoped that someday he could be migraine free. He certainly deserved as much. She turned to Lorik Qui’in with an apologetic smile.

“He gets migraines from time to time. His biotic implants cause them,” she explained. Shepard drew up a chair and sat down across from the turian.

“I certainly wouldn’t want to keep you, especially if he is unwell…” Qui’in trailed off, unsure of whether to refer to the man who had left as Shepard’s mate or not. According to the recent news vids, Shepard and her subordinate had some form of intimate relationship. Whether or not they were mates was another matter entirely. Did humans even use the term ‘mate’?

“No Mr. Qui’in,” Shepard sighed, “it is better for me to leave him alone for a while. My presence would probably make things worse. I’m sure I couldn’t possibly be quiet enough to be of any help for him.”

He nodded and signaled a human waitress over.

“I’ll have my usual and,” he motioned to Shepard, “please give her whatever a classy, sophisticated woman of high standing would drink.” The waitress briefly considered the Spectre, nodded, and left.

“Mr. Qui’in,” Shepard laughed, “I am involved in some very dirty business at times. I wouldn’t necessarily consider myself classy or sophisticated.”

“As am I,” he replied, “but I find it rather easy to appear so, especially when the rest of the galaxy seems to revel in atrocity.”

“Anoleis?” she arched a brow at the turian’s thinly veiled jab at the late administrator.

“Indeed,” he replied, “I must thank you, Spectre. Had you not convinced me to testify to the board about Anoleis’ corruption, I would not have been named the next administrator.”

The waitress returned and placed the drinks on the table. Administrator Qui’in’s drink was of a navy hue, and no matter how hard the frazzled human tried to pronounce it, she always ended up butchering the name. For Commander Shepard, she chose a fine champagne of the most inoffensive, mellow flavor possible. It seemed to be a hit with the well-to-do that frequented the hotel bar. She just hoped that the Spectre would have similar tastes.

“Is this acceptable, ma’am?” the waitress asked, warily eyeing the heavily armed, beautiful woman in front of her.

“Yes,” Shepard nodded, not bothering to take a sip, “champagne is always lovely. Thank you.”

The waitress nodded in return and left, grateful that her selection was a success.

“Did you know, Commander, that turians make toasts on their beverages much like humans do?” Qui’in inquired, his beverage in hand. “I believe we should toast, then, to our enemies. May we always have the better hand of cards.”

“To the downfall of our enemies,” Shepard chuckled, a feral grin spread across her face.

They clinked glasses and drank.

“So,” Shepard began, “how did this promotion come about?”

“It’s quite a long story,” Qui’in replied, “but I’d be more than willing to share if you have the time.”

Shepard thought of Kaidan and his migraine. Though she wanted to go to him, she knew that there was nothing she could do to ease his pain other than stay out of the way. Perhaps he was sleeping. She certainly hoped so. Her eyes turned to the turian across from her. Yes, spending time with Qui’in would be a good idea.

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Three hours passed and though the buzzed Spectre had her company manners on, she found Lorik Qui’in to be quite an interesting individual. Shepard was aware that he most likely had his company manners on as well. Regardless, she felt that there was a mutual respect between them; if she ever had future dealings with Noveria, she was sure that Qui’in would be as cooperative as possible.

She blinked as she glanced at her omni-tool. It was flashing. Motioning for a break in the conversation, Shepard accessed her message. It was from Kaidan and it contained one word:

Vodka.

“That was my Lieutenant,” she sighed, “so I must take my leave.”

“Please send my regards. Don’t worry about the tab; I’ll take care of it,” Qui’in replied.

“Thank you, Mr. Qui’in,” Shepard shook the turian’s hand.

“You’re welcome. Good evening, Spectre,” he replied with a nod.

Shepard stood up and exhaled as the reality of how much she’d had to drink hit her full force. She shook her head and strode over to the bar. Unsure of exactly what her Lieutenant wanted, Shepard purchased a full bottle of vodka. Any extra left over was simply more for her to add to her private stash of contraband.

Thus satisfied, she headed to the room. She tried her best to appear sober; after telling her crew to behave, it would be very bad for her to appear drunk in public. Finally, she reached her destination.

The door opened to reveal a very lavish, dimly lit room. In its center lay a single bed that contained Kaidan. He lay on his stomach, his head sandwiched by pillows. Shepard removed the bottle of vodka from its bag and slowly approached the bed. Was he sleeping?

His hand reached out from under the covers to grab the bottle. Slowly, Kaidan rolled over and sat up. He closed his eyes for a brief moment while he unscrewed the top to the bottle. The cool glass of the rim touched his lips and he sighed in indecision. He let out an anguished groan as he realized there was no other way. Tilting back the bottle, Kaidan guzzled as much as he could stand before wrenching it from his lips.

“Okay, I have two questions,” the slack jawed Shepard began, “What the hell was that all about? And…” she trailed off, eyeing his bare torso. Was he naked? Really?

As if he read Shepard’s mind, Kaidan flipped back the covers. He then took another gigantic swig of the potent alcohol.

“Well, you’re wearing pants, so that answers one question…” Shepard mumbled. She mentally noted that said pants lay very low on his hips. Her eyes widened.

“Lieutenant, I am led to believe that you aren’t wearing any underdrawers,” she drawled and sat down next to him on the bed.

“Nine times out of ten, I’m not,” he replied then took yet another swig of the vodka.

Oh, that was some interesting information. Shepard was drunk enough to let her gaze linger on his finely toned body and sinfully low pants. Though her career choice had her interacting with muscle-bound marines on a daily basis, she always found herself appraising the vast array of body types so readily available for her perusal. Shepard, the muscle connoisseur, definitely would rank her Lieutenant’s body in her top ten that she’d had the pleasure of viewing. In fact, he looked positively…

“Delicious…” she murmured, her eyes very happy to follow the trail of hair that led from his bellybutton to his navy-clad unmentionables.

“Huh?” he questioned the Commander’s random outburst.

“That vodka looks delicious,” she replied, not missing a beat. It was fortunate for Shepard that her Lieutenant was too occupied with the bottle to catch her staring. The fact that he seemed so intent on getting himself plastered was odd enough.

“You’re reminding me of myself at the moment,” Shepard gestured toward the bottle, “care to tell me why?”

“Painkillers,” Kaidan mumbled, “if I’m trashed, it’ll stop hurting.”

“That’s pretty bad,” she cringed.

He considered her for a moment then handed the bottle off; Shepard took a generous swallow and handed it back. An idea suddenly came to her and she quickly exited the room as he again downed more of the bottle’s contents. In less than a minute, the triumphant Commander returned with a bucket of ice in her hands. She placed it on the nightstand next to the bed and turned to grab her bag.

“So, what triggered it this time?” Shepard asked as she opened her bag to retrieve a tank top and a pair of yoga pants, both in black. The Commander ducked into the bathroom to change.

“The lighting change from the elevator to the hotel lobby,” he replied, his eyes wandering around the room as he waited for her to reenter the room.

“It happens that easily then?” her voice was muffled through the cracked door.

“Sometimes, yes,” Kaidan allowed himself to fall back onto the bed. The alcohol was thankfully beginning to numb the pain. “How is Qui’in?” he asked, regretful that he missed a possibly important conversation.

“He’s rather charming. Handsome, I guess… for a turian,” Shepard appeared in the doorway with an armful of armor and weapons, “gave me so much champagne that I feel like I’m going to fizz over. But he is so charming. I may have even gone home with him.” Shepard chuckled at her joke and set her armor down on the small table in the corner of the room, her movements overly cautious as if the equipment were made of glass.

“Shepard, do you know what a cloaca is?” Kaidan spat, completely missing the joke. He didn’t like the idea of anyone, acquaintance or not, making moves on his Commander. What bothered him the most was that he wasn’t there to watch out for her. He was sure that Shepard could easily watch out for herself, but it was the principle of the matter that got him. Qui’in didn’t deserve Shepard. Nobody deserved Shepard, and he’d make damned sure that somebody was looking out for her.

“Ew,” Shepard laughed, “no, I guess you’re right. It would be too awkward to hook up with a turian anyway. I guess the alcohol’s gotten my mind in the gutter.” She grabbed her sidearm and moseyed over to the bed.

“Expecting trouble?” he asked and motioned to her sidearm.

“Only if you’re naughty,” she replied, placing the gun on the table and sitting on the bed.

Kaidan inhaled sharply at Shepard’s remark.

“You keep talking like that and you’re going to have trouble,” he breathed as he watched her cross her legs and put a pillow in her lap.

Shepard chuckled and motioned for him to lay his head on top of the pillow. Kaidan wasn’t sure what she had in mind, but he wasn’t about to protest. Gingerly, he allowed his head to fall back onto her pillow-covered lap. The migraine was now bearable but only by a small margin. The Lieutenant closed his eyes, content that he was able to at least function. He hated having to drink to get rid of a migraine.

“I hate having to drink my migraines away,” he murmured, unsure of why he had the urge to explain his actions to Shepard.

She simply shushed him and placed her iced fingers on his forehead. Pressing firmly, Shepard’s cold fingers massaged in a circular motion. The Lieutenant below her sighed in relief.

“And that’s what the ice was for,” she whispered, not slowing in her ministrations.

Shepard continued to massage her Lieutenant’s forehead until her hands warmed up. She then iced them again and repeated the process, unmindful of the raw pain of her fingers being continually subjected to sudden temperature changes. The Commander would keep this up as long as it took for her Lieutenant to feel better. He was worth it.

Then again, the alcohol was very helpful in making the pain bearable as well.


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Over time, the hotel’s temperature control unit pumped out cold air until the Commander wondered if it was broken. Shepard looked down at the man whose head lay in her lap and recalled how often she caught him wiping sweat from his brow when he worked at his terminal on the Normandy. The room’s temperature must have been his doing.

She watched as her Lieutenant sat up, an expression of relief etched into his features. Her hands reached for the bottle of vodka; it was time to celebrate a small victory. Just a small swig would do the trick to warm her up. Smiling, Shepard tilted the bottle back and drank.

Kaidan watched the woman in front of him and waited for her to put the bottle back down. He didn’t know what he was going to do; he just had to do something. Catching her gaze, the Lieutenant leaned in, his hand reaching out to hesitantly hover over the side of her face in indecision. For a moment, their breath mingled as they stood on the precipice of something new.

The dam broke, a static shock jolting the couple as their lips met. Mouths opened and his tongue darted out to taste hers. Shepard crawled forward to straddle her Lieutenant’s lap as she drunkenly plundered his mouth. Warm hands slithered up the hem of the back of her shirt in an attempt to remove it; the intoxicated Shepard was all the while unaware.

Kaidan’s hands fumbled with the clasp of her bra; after a failed attempt, he leaned into Shepard to get a better angle. His weight pushed them over into a drunken tangle of limbs. Lazily, he stretched himself out over the woman below him and rested his head on her shoulder. Shepard’s arms and legs remained wrapped around him, providing the couple with an accurate impersonation of a felled tree trapping a hapless koala bear.

They groaned in unison, both unwilling to move. Wordlessly, they fell asleep.

Perhaps they’d remember where they left off in the morning.