POETRY
Mass Effect Drabble
femshep x aria t’loak ✧ mass effect 3 ✧ ao3
Shepard never cared much for the skylight over her bed. When she’d originally explored the Normandy after her resurrection, she’d spared the view a dismissive and uninterested glance before moving on. She hadn’t the time to enjoy it, and in truth Shepard had never been one to just sit still. Perhaps the only time was Akuze. The battered and ruined mako she’d tucked herself away in, waiting for the absolutely hellish tremors to cease, had lost a section of it’s siding.
She’d stared up at the night sky numbly. Gaze fixed on distant stars, the scent of eezo, smoke, and burning rubber burning her nostrils. At that moment, Shepard’s mind had taken her somewhere else, somewhere far away. The bright gleam of the fires became the hot glow of neon signs, she could see the stalls of street vendors along the lower streets of Toronto, back on Earth. Suddenly she’d been on shore leave, laughing as she and a few of her friends explored the city’s lower quarter.
Some shrink had explained later on it’d been some survival mechanism. An escape from the situation. No shit.
Now, as Shepard lay on her bed, staring up at one of the massive wards of the Citadel, she longed for the same escape. She was frustrated, everything hurt, and she hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks. Or was it months? Everything was starting to blend together now.
She covered her eyes with her arm. She’d lost track of time, while bitterly recalling there wasn’t enough of it. Earth was burning. Something twisted within herself guiltily as she didn’t concern herself with the batarians first. Whatever horrors Earth was facing, the batarian survivors now piling into the Citadel had suffered a thousand fold.
Strange to think in terms of the rest of galactic civilization, the batarians were endangered. No allies to turn to, and the full force of the Reapers come to bear on their territory… and that was following the genocide Shepard had committed against one of their colonies.
That pang of guilt she felt became a dagger driven through her heart. She had no love for the batarians, the Hegemony had committed astounding atrocities against human colonies and the Systems Alliance, and as a result, humanity had done the same to the batarians… but Shepard had never possessed the want, nor incentive to see them wiped out. Killing an enemy soldier, a slaver, or a terrorist was acceptable, a necessary action.
Murdering over three-hundred thousand colonists was not. She kept replaying that moment in her head. She should have brought her squad, she shouldn’t have gone alone. Tali would have been able to shut down any attempt Dr. Kenson made to destroy the base. Grunt could have plowed through the indoctrinated soldiers…
If she’d just done the smart thing, if she hadn’t gone alone--
“Commander Shepard,” Specialist Traynor’s voice came over the intercom. Shepard didn’t move.
“Yes?” She replied, straining to keep the irritation out of her tone.
“You have a visitor,” Traynor had gained confidence throughout this whole disaster, yet now she spoke with a gentle quake. She was nervous.
Visitor? What had the Normandy become, some sort of hotel? They were docked at the Citadel. There was the Embassies, Bay D24 -- the Normandy’s own damn dock, Purgatory… there were about two dozen other places for people to meet Shepard then on her own ship. This boat was the only location in the galaxy she could find some peace, and it was few and far between. Laying here undisturbed for a couple of hours while Garrus went and tried (alongside Primarch Victus) to get the soured salarian Dalatrass to release modified dextro-food stores with new immuno-boosters, was a sacred moment of reprieve.
“I believe it’s best Commander, if you were not at this meeting.” Victus’s words echoed in her mind. “While I appreciate what you did to give my people a lifeline, the Dalatrass did not.”
Shepard hadn’t been willing to have the Normandy out of the loop. Garrus took her place, because there was scarcely anyone who the Commander trusted more than Vakarian. She’d felt sorry for him when she’d told him, Garrus didn’t want to play diplomat, and his expression had told her as much. But this was for the turian people and the war effort. His dismay had evaporated into purpose a moment later.
If he got back in one piece, she’d make it up to him. Next chance they got, drinks were on her, and they’d go with some others to a shooting range.
“Who is it?” Shepard asked, her annoyance could probably be heard through the comm.
“She--um, she’s on her way up.”
Shepard frowned. It couldn’t be someone who would kill her. There was absolutely no way EDI would permit anyone on the lift who posed a threat, and even if whoever did make it to the elevator, it wouldn’t have moved. So, who was it?
“Edi,” Shepard spoke, “who is it?”
“I cannot say, Shepard.” EDI responded, vaguely impish. What the Hell was going on?
“You… can’t say,” Shepard reiterated the reasoning, trying to make sense of it. Exactly what was the AI up to? There was the distant hiss of the elevator reaching the cabin. A moment later, the door opened.
“You’ve got quite the nervous crew, Shepard,” a familiar feminine voice spoke with judgemental mirth. “One more minute with your specialist, and I think she may have fainted.”
“Commander I--” Traynor was still on the intercom. She was flustered now.
“It’s alright Traynor,” Shepard informed her. She sat up, giving her guest a look. A purple-hued asari, with a lithe and slender figure stood near the entrance. Her beauty was only matched by the air of superiority that emanated from her form. “Don’t terrorize my crew.”
The woman didn’t look at the Commander right away. The heels of her boots clicked on the floor as she moved towards Shepard’s desk, plucking the model of the Normandy SR1 from its resting place.
“I didn’t,” Aria replied, funny how there was always a sharp edge to her tone. Her blue gaze flicked to the SR2. “I hadn’t realized the original Normandy was so small.”
Shepard ran her hands through her hair, “it had its advantages.”
“I’m sure it did,” Aria responded flippitantly. Funny, Shepard had seemed so alive on Omega. Driven by purpose, wrapped in carnage. Cerberus hadn’t stood a chance against her. But the woman who sat on the bed before Aria struck her as drained. Brunette hair longer than Alliance regulations probably permitted, a fresh scar cutting through an eyebrow… another on her lip. Shepard stood near as tall as Aria did, but her body was built for war. Muscle under scarred flesh, but tired, Shepard reminded Aria of a warrior without a war. Unsure of what to do. “Too bad the Collectors blew it up.”
“Yes, that was unfortunate,” Shepard shot back sarcastically. If Aria decided to disturb her quiet just to remind the Commander of her monumental failures, then this was going to be a short conversation. “I recall I died.”
Despite the tone, Aria’s smirk grew. She put the model back, and instead picked up the SR2.
“You look tired, Shepard,” her comment struck a nerve. Shepard tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing in irritation. “But I suppose resurrection may have that effect on a person.”
“It has a lot of effects on a person,” Shepard said, “anger, exhaustion, an incredible drive for vengeance.”
“I heard you used a thresher maw to kill a reaper,” Aria put the SR2 back, gaze drifting to the Commander’s personal terminal.
Impatience struck Shepard like a krogan. “I had help. Aria, not that I mind our little chats, but what are you doing here?”
“You helped me retake Omega,” Aria’s smile was slick, she may not be in her queendom, but she was nonetheless a monarch. “I thought that warranted a thank you.”
Strangely, Shepard found Omega enticing. It reminded her of when she was a kid. Gangs, violence, most people out for themselves to get out of the gutters, and everyone clinging to some manic hope. She didn’t care for the power the gangs held, nor did she care for the notion that they’d tried to murder her best friend (and her)... but Omega had a charm about it.
Or, Shepard was just insane enough to think so.
The war to retake Omega from Cerberus had been a strange excursion. She hadn’t ever expected Aria to truly work alongside her, but the Queen of Omega proved herself to be a capable ally. Not that Shepard ever doubted the asari’s combat prowess. It was more the concept of Aria following orders that had given the Commander pause. Nyreen’s presence had been an interesting dynamic. And the idea of those two ever having managed to be together had almost made Shepard laugh. One woman fully ready to sacrifice nearly anything to retake Omega and achieve victory, and then the other almost rivaled justicars in her devotion to her code.
“You’ve already thanked me,” Shepard replied. Aria had given the Crucible Project tons of eezo, she ordered her mercenary fleet to aid with anything Admiral Hackett needed. The Blood Pack, Eclipse, and Blue Suns, and then whatever ships and fighters she could donate after Omega’s liberation had been freed from Cerberus control.
Then there’d been that kiss. She’d be struck dumb, because if anyone had asked her, what was more likely to occur: Harbinger taking up knitting, or Aria kissing her -- she would have bought that synthetic bastard a pair of needles.
“We had an agreement,” Aria countered, “keeping my end of the bargain, isn’t a thank you.” She wasn’t subtle about perusing Shepard’s messages, casually skimming until a frown formed on her face. EDI must have realized it wasn’t Shepard looking through her own terminal. She glanced at the spectre. “I thanked you for not interfering.”
General Petrovsky had deserved his death. He’d left the core they’d needed to shut down connected to critical systems as a trap to cease their actions. He didn’t care anything about the civilians on Omega, corralling them like animals while pretending to be a savior. If he had, he would have fixed the core himself, he would have tried to defend innocent people he’d attempted to use against Shepard as a weapon.
Still, it’d bought him a bit of time. She’d ignored Aria’s demands to just shut it down. Maybe it was naive in the grand scope of the war, but the travesty of the Bahak System had shot to the forefront of her mind when she’d reached the console..
“Thousands will die, Commander.” Oh, she’d hated how Petrovsky acted as if he gave a single fuck.
Nyreen had recommended a solution, one the Commander had jumped at. If she didn’t have to add thousands more to her conscience, she’d take the option. It was a weakness for sure, one that was weighing on her, it was probably why she was so Goddamn tired. She couldn’t save everyone, it was the ugly, cold calculus Garrus had mentioned.
But she wouldn’t compromise that part of her soul.
She couldn’t, what would be left?
“He deserved worse,” her reply saw Aria look at her with a modicum of curiosity. She hadn’t expected that to be the Commander’s reply.
“Well,” the asari smiled, moving to admire the fish tank. “That’s something we can agree on.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t keep him around,” Shepard said, wondering as to why Aria hadn’t. “You could have made it last for days.”
She could see Aria’s expression in the reflection of the tank. Her smile had morphed into a malicious sneer.
“Oh, I could have made it last weeks,” she corrected, but her dark joy evaporated. “But he’d have been too much of a risk. Maybe his charm had no effect on you, Shepard... but he could be quite convincing.”
“I heard,” the human replied, “he got you to leave Omega.”
“He forced my hand,” Aria admitted, “he outplayed me. Hard to do, and for that, he had my respect.”
Company forced upon her, Shepard relinquished all hope of being left alone. She slid to the side of the bed and stood, rolling her shoulder as it dully ached. It’d been doing that since Tuchanka, and Shepard couldn’t honestly remember what she’d slammed into to cause the pain. Maybe it’d been one of those turian-krogan hybrid monstrosities.
Aria watched Shepard walk by. The old, fitted tank the human wore, bore the Systems Alliance icon on it, and the bottom of it was fraying. There was the faintest hint of an old cut on the woman’s collarbone, and as she moved past, Aria spotted the telling tale of pock marks on Shepard’s shoulder.
Bullet wounds. Aria went back to minding the fish. The Commander had quite the collection of them.
“You certainly have a talent for getting shot,” Aria pointed out.
Shepard paused at the bar fridge. She’d bent down to reach for a bottle of water when her guest had spoken.
“I have that effect on people,” Shepard said jokingly, snatching the water. “Do you want one?”
Aria spared her offer a glance. “If I drink, I prefer something stronger than water.”
“I gave up drinking after your bartender poisoned me.”
That got a look, Aria scowled in annoyance. Shepard decided she wasn’t bothered.
A cheeky smirk blessed Shepard’s lips as she reached inside and grabbed a bottle that almost glowed. It was a bright, radiant blue. She tossed it to the offended asari, who caught it effortlessly. Aria watched the Commander shut the fridge, still opting for water.
“No,” Shepard explained, “I just don’t tend to drink, when I do… mistakes are usually made.”
“Interesting,” Aria said, “you look like you need one.”
Shepard ignored the comment, moving to the couch. She cracked open her water.
“You’re welcome,” she said, taking a swig of her drink.
Aria was confused, “for?”
“You said you were here to thank me,” Shepard leaned back, “you’re welcome.”
Aria snorted, quickly removing the cap from her drink. “Yes, well, now that that’s over,” she took a sip of the mystery beverage. “What is this?”
“It’s actually from Omega,” Shepard answered, “human, batarian, and salarian venture.”
Aria gave the liquid a scrutinizing glare.
“They called it Azure,” the Commander revealed with a mischievous smirk. “Apparently they had a real love for their queen.”
Well controlled indifference was all Aria displayed as she considered the drink. The issue with it, was there was no issue. It was delectably sweet, smooth, and even had a fantastic colour. Aria couldn’t think of anything disappointing about it, other than it’s name. If what Shepard said about its name was true, it reminded her of Vodsk.
“I see,” Aria murmured, disapproval of the name not dissauding her desire for another taste. “Well, I wish them luck on their venture.”
“As do I,” Shepard agreed, though she was most likely genuine in her wish.
Silence briefly hung between them.
“Why wouldn’t Edi tell me you were the guest?” Shepard’s brows knitted together as she tried to figure it out.
“She thought it better if it were a surprise,” Aria faintly smiled, “I agreed.”
“A…” Shepard’s frown deepened, “surprise…” She looked away, taking another gulp of her water, swallowing it quickly.
“I noted a marked increase in your dopamine levels when conversing with Miss T’Loak in Afterlife, and once again in Purgatory,” EDI stated factually, cutting into the discussion. “Coupled with an increased heart rate, and, as observed onboard the Normandy, pupil dilation.”
Shepard prayed Harbinger would come through the relay and blow the Normandy to Hell once more. It would save her from this mortifying situation.
“Simply put, I thought you would enjoy her company.”
Shepard shut her eyes, lips pressed thin as she fought the mortification shooting through her.
Shepard didn’t pretend to believe that Aria hadn’t known about her infatuation. She was an asari, and one that was far older than the Commander. Chances were, she’d known the whole time and been polite enough to ignore it.
“Miss T’Loak,” there was a click to the asari’s tongue as she considered that title. “Interesting.”
Trying to recover from the situation, Shepard finally opened her eyes.
“Well she can’t call you Omega,” the Commander quipped. Aria shot a sideways glance at her.
“You think you’re quite clever, don’t you?”
No, no Shepard did not think she was clever. She thought she was a fool. She had a crush and her well-meaning but misguided friend had blown it. If she wasn’t so wrapped up in the war, Shepard would probably shot herself out the airlock. She put her bottle down on the table and ran her hands through her hair once again, a sorry groan escaping her as she just stared at the floor.
“No, no I really don’t,” Shepard laughed regretfully, hoping she wasn’t such a school girl that her cheeks were blushing.
“I didn’t need your AI to tell me Shepard,” it amazed the Commander that hardly ever did she see Aria lose her composure. “Though, I find it funny you’re hung up on Edi giving away your little secret, and have forgotten that I agreed to come.”
Aria’s point hung in the air for a few seconds. Shepard looked up. The asari was still utterly unreadable. Her authoritarian regality still swam about her form. But there was a glint in her blue eyes, a hint of being slightly more amenable to being approached lingered.
“I was quite surprised when Edi approached me in Purgatory,” Aria moved to sit on the end of the bed. She crossed one leg over the other. “I’m not sure if I should be surprised or disappointed C-Sec hasn’t figured her out yet. But they’ve never been a bright bunch.”
Shepard privately wished the Lazarus Project had failed. Let her be just a broken body again, void of life. It would spare her this situation. She kept her eyes locked on Aria though, listening intently.
“She approached you in person?”
“Yes, along with your pilot,” Aria didn’t sound impressed, “I thought they were wasting my time, at first. They were arguing.”
“How should I know?” The asari’s eyes narrowed. “I imagine he didn’t want her to invite me to your ship.”
Joker had been the only person who knew about Shepard’s infatuation with T’Loak. She’d gotten a little too drunk one night on the Citadel (hilariously enough, that’d been the last time she’d drank), and he’d managed to get it out of her. He’d told her that was dangerous, that’d it be safer to date a krogan. They were more predictable, plus, she had that outstanding breeding request on Tuchanka.
Shepard stifled a laugh, at least he’d tried.
“But that’s neither here nor there,” Aria was quick to say. “I was surprised you hadn’t broached the topic.”
Was she meant too? Shepard didn’t have the talent for navigating any sort of romantic situation with grace, she never had. Least of all with a woman she couldn’t read worth a damn. She hadn’t realized that Aria had any desire to converse with her beyond using the Commander to consolidate her power, or to liberate Omega.
“Yeah,” Shepard gave the woman an skeptical look, “I’m not that brave.”
“I’ve seen you charge an adjutant with your biotics,” Aria pointed out, lips curving upwards at the memory. “Don’t tell me I’m more terrifying than that.”
“No,” the spectre replied, “but sitting in Purgatory, talking to the Queen of Omega about feelings is not a battle I’d actively seek out.”
“Battle?” She sounded amused, “please, it wouldn’t be something so dramatic.”
Yes it would be. But Shepard kept that comment to herself.
“Fine,” Shepard said impatiently, “the truth is, not that you need to be told, Edi is right. I enjoy your company.”
Aria let go of her drink then, though it didn’t fall to the floor. The gentle blue glow of biotics swirled around it, and it drifted towards Shepard as an offering. The Commander eyed it, tentatively reaching for it. But she simply held onto it, refusing to drink it.
“I was telling the truth back on Omega,” Aria revealed, “I never thought I’d enjoy having a partner… I was pleasantly surprised by you.”
Her admittance, far more elegant than Shepard’s, gave the Commander pause.
“You’ve helped me even before this war made our allegiance necessary,” Aria continued, “or did you think I’d forgotten?”
She hadn’t given it much thought, she’d believed she was just a convenient person for the woman to ask. If anything, Shepard had thought Aria was simply seeing if she would help. Though one moment that stuck out to the Commander now, was when she’d discovered the gangs were planning on turning on the asari. She’d given the datapad to Aria because she understood a simple truth.
If Aria controlled Omega, people were better off for it. The Blood Pack, Eclipse, and Blue Suns would never achieve the same balance, or peace. They all wanted the throne, their wars would tear that station apart. That was one of the few times she’d seen Aria surprised, and then angry. The datapad had struck Anto in the face.
“I didn’t think you cared,” Shepard replied honestly.
“I find people help for only one reason,” the Pirate Queen explained, “they want something. Only I couldn’t find anything you wanted. I thought there was an angle at first, something you’d ask for eventually... but then you just kept helping.” Aria smiled like a cat, “you even put yourself in the sights of an Ardat-Yakshi, for no other reason then the justicar asked you too.”
Morinth, it’d been terrifying how enchanting she’d been.
Shepard frowned, a little lost. “You like that I help people?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she replied, “but the change was refreshing, to say the least.”
It was always good to know that while she ran around Omega like a jackass, killing mercs and helping people, Aria had been watching, and presumably amused by the entire charade. Still, the notion didn’t bother Shepard as much as she thought it would. Truly she was only bothered when Cerberus had been breathing down her neck, and knowing her every damn move. If there was an upside to being on the Collector Base, it was having the opportunity to blow it up as her resignation letter. Cerberus had left her alone after that.
Shepard swirled the alcohol around in the bottle, watching it absent-mindedly. When she looked to Aria once more, she looked at the beauty with uncertainty.
“So, you want to give this,” she gestured between them, “a try?”
Aria rolled her eyes, letting out a short huff of disbelief. Still, she didn’t seem annoyed by the question.
“You’re not very good at this, are you?” The question was probably rhetorical, but Shepard answered it regardless.
“No,” the Commander replied with complete honesty. “Pretty sure, actually I’m certain, a krogan is more romantic than I am.”
Intrigued, Aria took the bait. “You’re certain?”
“There was a krogan, Charr. He fell in love with an asari on Illium,” Shepard’s smile was sad, “he’d recite her poetry. Blue Rose, he’d call her.”
“If you recite poetry to me, I’ll have to kill you,” Aria stated.
Shepard laughed, “I don’t know any.”
“Good,” the pirate queen said, then stood. “Get dressed.”
“Are we going somewhere?”
“Yes,” Aria spoke as she was giving Shepard a command, “I’ll meet you outside.. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Shepard watched her leave, wondering what exactly had just occurred. Had Aria really just…? The spectre sat in silence, eyes falling back to the drink. She sat it on the table after a beat, using the silence to think on what'd just happened.
“Thank you,” the Commander wore a subtle smile.
There was a smidgen of pride in EDI’s voice, “you’re welcome, Shepard.”
