He had noticed within hours of being in her presence as they prepared for the Mars mission that Shepard’s behaviour towards him was markedly different. She was still as unfathomably kind to him as she’d always been, despite his harsh attitude towards her. She had the same warm demeanour towards him as she’d always had, as if he had left her crew for a few days rather than a few years. Yet, there was no questioning that something had changed. She no longer reached out to touch him, whether it was to brush against his arm, a gentle squeeze of his fingers, or to feel his arm round her shoulders. She had told him once in confidence that she did it because on Earth she’d never had anyone precious to her and she wanted to know he was close, in a conversation that felt like it was lifetimes ago.
The mission itself ended in disaster for Kaidan as he was gravely injured, but the coming weeks of recovery provided him with a moment of clarity. Why in all the galaxies had he been acting like such a colossal prat? His thoughts floated back to Horizon, where it all went wrong.
“I loved you!” He spat it out to her in the past tense, as if he could ever get past his feelings for her. Shepard had implored, she pleaded with him to just try to see it from her side, but in the heat of the moment he’d decided that she wasn’t trustworthy. Instead he flipped it round to insinuate that Shepard was the one that was blind.
“They can decide if they believe your story,” the thinly veiled insult hit its mark and Kaidan had to grit his teeth to stop himself from grimacing at the hurt on Shepard’s face. It was clear she knew what Kaidan had meant to say was ‘I don’t believe a word you have said.’
Still she tried again for him, one more time: “I could use someone like you on my crew Kaidan, it’d be just like old times,” She spoke tentatively, and he had understood she was asking for more than just another crew member.
“No it won’t; I’ll never work for Cerberus.” He replied forcefully. “Goodbye Shepard.”
He hadn’t meant for it to be the end, despite the fact he was the one that said goodbye.
It was all a bit of a mess after that, Kaidan mused, sliding the lump of ice from his glass into his mouth. He thought about the shaky correspondence he sent to Shepard that was intended to rectify his mistake, to show he hadn’t meant to end it. It was too late, though, and a few months later a letter was delivered to his door written in her chunky, slightly slanted handwriting. Then another. Then another. By the fourth he’d all but worked out what it was that could possibly be so important it warranted the effort of handwritten letters. After all, he knew Shepard and she would want to soften the blow as much as possible and if it couldn’t be in person then the most personal method available to her would have to do even if she struggled with it – being able to read and write weren’t really a priority for her when she was growing up on Earth’s back streets. He didn’t read them for he was sure that the whoever had caught Shepard’s eye would be talked about in them and he couldn’t bear to look. So, he buried himself in his work in a pathetic attempt to hide from any mention of her name and, to be fair, it was paying off; he even got promoted to Major.
Until the whole galaxy went to shit with the arrival of the frickin Reapers.
So they were together again and yet not for the mission to Mars and then, stuck in a hospital bed, Kaidan couldn’t avoid the information he was so desperately hiding from. The nurses were gossiping about Shepard’s exploits on one of Palaven’s moons – shooting Husks and Marauders, saving the Primarch, basically kicking ass like always… and afterwards, sharing a passionate moment with Garrus Vakarian.
This was the truth, Kaidan thought as he waved over the waiter to order another drink, that he he should’ve known. Garrus and Shepard were always close, and had Garrus not been a turian maybe Kaidan would’ve had to tell him to back off. As it was, “Shepard and Vakarian are the one true pairing of the Normandy” was the most popular joke during those precious moments of peace and laughter while trying to stop Saren, despite both their protests to the contrary. Still, the news stunned Kaidan; betrayed, not only being cheated on by his love but she had done so with his friend. Of course, that wasn’t exactly true – knowing Garrus he wouldn’t allow a relationship with someone if they were romantically entangled elsewhere – but it was an easier truth than that of the letters Kaidan refused to read.
The news helped Kaidan finally plucked up the courage to ask Shepard about fixing their relationship, so he sent her an email to ask her to visit. Naturally she came as soon as she read it, but as she walked in wearing a look of concern while trying her hardest not to look haggard, her back straight and hands held behind her back in military style, Kaidan lost the nerve. Yes, this woman was the real Shepard, but times had changed and so had she. He looked at her, really looked at her for the first time in years and he could see the worry and the stress and the fraying nerves written all over it. He was not going to be the one to make an already gruelling situation worse. Not this time. Kaidan was going to trust Shepard, he was going to believe her, and he proved it in the situation with Udina on the Citadel. He was not going to have another Horizon. He supported Shepard like he should have done the first time around, and stood down when she asked him to. Perhaps there is still a chance, a little voice in his head had mused, but he crushed it, reminding himself that Garrus was stood by her side when Shepard confronted him, possibly ready to shoot Kaidan down to protect her.
Once he’d joined the crew again he could see how happy Garrus made her, much as it pained him to admit it. When Kaidan was with Shepard she seemed to glow, but with Vakarian she positively sparkled. Kaidan watched dumbfounded as Shepard was pushed from one precarious situation to the next, like Rannoch and Thessia, and when it seemed like she was about to break Garrus would wrap an arm around her, pressing his head against Shepard’s and the tension would melt out of her. She’d peck him and gently whisper secret loving words to him and when she pulled away the deep-set lines of worry in her face would have eased. It was for that reason that Kaidan ignored the burning ache in his chest at the sight of them. He did have one very awkward conversation about the situation on Garrus’s insistence which resulted in him punching the Turian squarely in the mandibles, but after that he held on to no real resentment toward him. Losing Shepard was altogether of Kaidan’s own doing.
Kaidan was snapped out of his thoughts by the sight of Shepard walking towards him. She was dressed in civvies, an N7 jumper and some sporty leggings, and had her blazing red hair tied into a messy ponytail. He shook his head as if doing so would dislodge the memories he was just reliving, regretting it instantly as his implant created dull spikes of pain in response. He grabbed a menu as she dumped herself into the nearest chair.
“Hey, Kaidan. Went for a quick run first, you know, fire up the appetite,” She flashed him a cheeky grin and scooted her chair round to peek over his menu.
“I’m surprised this place can still get supplies for a menu like this,” he murmured, pretending not to notice the proximity.
“Maybe it’s better not to ask,” Shepard laughed heartily, a sound that was becoming scarce as the battles raged. Kaidan considered telling her that he had never stopped loving her, that he was still waiting for her, that Horizon was a horrible mistake… but what would be the point? All that would happen was that Shepard would stop enjoying herself, stop being able to laugh with him.
