---
The future is such a vast, scary thought that Kaidan avoids it at all cost.
But lately the thoughts and hopes and dreams of a future with Shepard, with Shepard and children and a large house with room for their extended family from all corners of the universe.
And it scares him.
The hopes and dreams are terrifying, because so much could go wrong before they’re able or allowed to retire from the front, before they can begin to consider where they want to settle down. Not thinking is better, almost all of the time, because not thinking about it means no worries about all that can go wrong before they get there.
Deaths and kidnappings and hurts and losses and break-ups.
Sometimes Kaidan thinks that this day, maybe, he’s ready to talk to Shepard about the future, their future, together. But he backs out every time, fearing what the answer might be.
Kaidan tries to tell himself it’s irrational of him to think this way, but there are still those sneaking thoughts creeping around his mind, making him feel uncertain, telling him there’s no way Shepard will still want him once this is over, no matter what it might seem like at the moment.
He fights against the thoughts the best he can, set on ignoring them as lies and useless worries, because he wants this, wants a future with Shepard, so fighting for that shouldn’t be hard, shouldn’t be frightening.
So he talks to Steve, the two of them sitting on the observation deck, a beer each. Kaidan asks Steve how and when he knew Robert was the one, how he was sure that he was the one he wanted to marry and share his life with.
“You just know, Kaidan. It’s not like I woke up one day and just knew. It came gradually, going from romance, to living together, to me not being able to envision a single day without him. But I didn’t propose until months later, because there was no rush. We were in love and that was enough for us, until we wanted to show our love to our friends and family, wanted to fully commit and become a family in the real way, the legal way. We got married because it was right for us.”
They sit in silence for a while, Kaidan thinking about Steve’s words and he can feel the rightness of them, the conviction behind his words.
“So, you plan on proposing to the Commander anytime soon? I don’t mean to offend, but some of us are wondering on who’ll pop the question first and my money’s on you.”
“Wait, you have a bet on us?!”
“You gotta take it up with James and Garrus; they came up with it over poker one night and the rest of the squad and I jumped on board. Even the Doc is in on it I heard.”
Kaidan just blinks at him, wondering how this happened and how he could have been stupid enough not to see that maybe it’s time, maybe this is right, that when everyone else can see how good they are together, he should too.
“I would advise you to do it this week unless you want Joker to win his bet against me,” EDI joins in over the intercom, startling both Steve and Kaidan.
“Thanks, EDI. I keep forgetting you do that though; gotta say I prefer speaking to you now that you’ve got a body and all.”
“I simply wished not to intrude too much, but I will try to remember.”
The thoughts are whirling around in Kaidan’s head, can I do this, can I really take this leap and ask him what I want most of all?
Steve looks at him and smiles.
“Trust me, you can do this. You’ve got nothing to fear; it’s clear as the sky out there that he won’t turn you down. Oh, and maybe not do it in public, cause I’m sure you’ll both want to celebrate accordingly once he says yes.”
There’s no helping the blush that rises in Kaidan’s cheeks at the last comment, knowing the truth of it.
“Thank you, Steve.”
The shuttle pilot just smiles in return, returning his gaze back to the view outside.
---
Kaidan still dreams about Ashley. He dreams about Shepard coming back to save him, about making the choice to make sure the bomb went off, but also the choice between two squad mates. Two friends.
Despite being a Spectre himself, Kaidan can’t see himself being able to make the choice.
He doesn’t admit to it, but he feels guilty, despite not having a choice. He should have been like Ash, demanding that the Commander save the other person, leave me here, I can handle this, I’ll make sure the bomb goes off, take the others and leave.
The question of why me fills his mind often, and he finds it increasingly difficult not to look at her name on the ever growing list of the names of the people who have lost or given their lives for the cause.
Because there is a difference between losing your life and giving it up for what is right. Ash didn’t lose hers; she gave it away, knowing that her life was the difference between a failed and a successful mission.
A heroic sacrifice, unlike the ones lost when the first Normandy got attacked, or the crew got taken from the second Normandy.
Kaidan knows that joining the army or serving on a ship means laying down your life there and then, knowing that there will come a moment when something will happen and the smallest thing will make the largest difference.
Like Joker could so easily have been taken too, had it not been for EDI and for Joker trusting her enough to set her free.
Thane, too, took control and chose his own death, chose to use it to save another life, knowing it would most likely be the end of his own; preferring to die in or of battle, not in a hospital bed after years of getting weaker.
But Ash will forever be Kaidan’s biggest loss and he doesn’t ever think he’ll stop feeling guilty over having his life valued more than hers. He knows he could have set off the bomb without help, knows he could have completed the mission and let Ash escape wither her life.
Kaidan had been prepared to lay down his life, to give it up willingly because that’s what he’s been trained to since joining the military, and the choice was taken away from him.
He can’t see a reason as to why he’s allowed to live on.
He loves Shepard, loves that he gets to spend be with him as a friend and partner, and it feels like he’s betraying Shepard’s trust and choices by not trusting that he made the right choice, bu he doesn’t know what do to bout it, doesn’t know how to tell him when he wakes up, drenched in sweat, reliving the moment when Ashley’s intercom went silent and he realised he’d never hear her voice again.
He lies, when Shepard asks what’s wrong; claiming he dreams he gets the message that one or more family members are dead, or that Shepard is dead, for real this time, or one of his students or a Normandy family member.
Shepard accepts his words, though they sound hollow to Kaidan’s ears and he thinks Shepard only pretends to believe him; that he thinks Kaidan will tell him the truth when he’s ready to.
And maybe one day Kaidan will be able to tell him about his guilt. But not today.
Thank you so much to everybody who reblogged and liked and left comments on my entries for Kaidan Appreciation Week! I’m so sad it’s over, and honestly had a lot of fun.
For most of the days this week, I wrote more than one entry and picked which one to post. Most of the entries I didn’t post aren’t very good... but here’s two random alternates. They were cut because they didn’t fit the tone I wanted or I didn’t have the time to research them the way I’d like.
If you’re curious about any of the other alternates, just... lemme know I guess.
Alternate Day 7 - Future
“Nervous?” Shepard asked softly. Kaidan was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and Ben must have noticed. “Hey, Kay? How’re you feeling.”
“Nervous… yeah…” Kaidan could tell his speech was slurred. He was prone on the operating table except for where his head was steeply kinked. Shepard kept looking up behind him, watching the doctors work. But Shepard was all Kaidan could see, eyes shining above the sterile mask he wore.
“Nothing to be worried about,” but his brow crinkled when he caught the sight of something happening behind the small curtain that separated the top of Kaidan’s head from the rest of his body from he forehead down. “The tech’s come a long way since we were kids.”
Shepard was terrified. And Kaidan squeezed his hand tightly.
“Just feel like there’s a lot of things…”
“Shh,” Shepard scooched his chair in even further, covering Kaidan’s one unstrapped hand with both of his, the sterile gloves squeaking when he returned the tight squeeze. “They’re going to pop out the L2, fit you up with a nice new L6x. It’s going to go so easy.”
“I swore I would never do this.” When Kaidan tried to roll his eyes, it felt like his whole head was going to roll off.
“Hey,” Shepard was compulsively rubbing his hand, “Cerberus gave me a new implant! It was easy!”
“You were dead.”
“…I got better?”
“Commander,” one of the surgeons Kaidan couldn’t see said, “We’re about to begin. Now’s the time: just make sure to keep him awake, and also keep him talking. Recalling memories, get him practicing skills, singing songs, things like that.”
“Got it.” Even through the mask, Kaidan could tell his jaw was tight. He answered to the surgeon the way he always answered to Hackett. But when he looked back down at Kaidan, his eyes showed that he was clearly at a loss. “…so… don’t suppose there’s anything on your mind?”
“Bunch of… experimental… surgeons.”
Shepard blinked twice and laughed, “Only the best.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Shepard smoothed a thumb over Kaidan’s knuckles. “No more seizures… no more headaches… just… normal.”
“It’ll… nice.”
“Yeah.” Shepard cleared his throat and handed Kaidan a data-pad, which he lifted up in front of his face. It was a level 9 encryption wheel.
“The hell… this?” Kaidan groaned.
“I brought some encryptions to keep your brain working,” Shepard tried to chuckle, “You were always better at them than me…”
“Promise me… no singing…”
For the next 40 minutes he and Shepard did decryptions. Of course, because it was Shepard, he made it a contest. Kaidan suspected Ben was going easy on him, but Ben didn’t (currently) have a bunch of surgeons digging around in his brain. So it was alright.
Once the surgeons were out of the Supplementary Motor Area, it was on to the question and answer portion of Shepard’s duties.
“What’s your name?” he teased.
“Kaidan Alenko, gimme… break, Ben.”
“Okay, what’s my name?” Shepard quirked an eyebrow.
“Benjamin Shepard,” Kaidan said, really digging into the Arabic pronunciation to prove how with-it he was after all those decryptions.
“What’s my middle name?”
“Trick question.”
“And who am I?”
“You’re… husband… asshole. Get on… withit.”
“Do you remember when we first met?” Shepard leaned in, eyes softening.
“Normandy. You… always… prying into my personal life…” Kaidan smiled mildly, and the crinkles at the corners of Shepard’s eyes told him he was smiling too.
“Look how far we’ve come!”
“Ha!”
“Tell me about the last few years,” Shepard said, “Whatever pops to mind.”
They went on like that for another hour, softly remembering everywhere they’d been in the last ten years while doctors poked and prodded and rearranged Kaidan’s brain.
“Alright,” one of the surgeons said to Kaidan, coming into his eye line. “We’re all done. You did it! We’re just going to put you under while we close you up, okay?”
Kaidan nodded wearily.
“See you soon… Babe…”
“Yeah,” Shepard leaned close to his ear and whispered through the mask, “When you wake up, we’ll go home and spend a nice, lazy week in the woods. Your head is never going to hurt like that again.”
“Sounds… nice. Can’t believe it.”
“Neither can I,” Ben’s eyes were glassy and apologetic, and Kaidan squeezed his hand again to tell him without words that he was going to be okay. “I love you, Kay. See you soon.”
“Soon.”
++
Alternate Day 6 - Grief
There was space for all of their names, eventually.
Kaidan had been skeptical at first—everyone had—when the artist tasked with designing the Normandy Memorial Park had come to the Alliance with his request. A small, quiet little Presidium park had been designated as the place to construct the memorial to remember the Normandy, and an elcor artist of some repute had won the bid to make it.
Kaidan watched Shepard carefully when they arrived: there was Normandy’s own memorial wall, now erected amid a shady elms. The Alliance had wanted to keep the memorial wall on the Normandy, but the appeal of the artist was so passionate and persuasive that after months of arguments to various officials, commentary by virtually every member of the Normandy’s crew, and much back and forth in the media, the Alliance had handed it over.
The artist had seen a picture of it in one of the vids of the war, and had been fascinated by a single element: no ranks. Only names on the wall, save for Admiral Anderson.
“It looks so small like this,” Shepard muttered, and Kaidan took his hand and guided him up to the wall.
“Yeah, I think that’s what the artist wanted.”
There was another sculpture standing by: the artist attempting to blend the artistic sensibilities of asari, elcor, volus, turian, human, batarian, hanar... into a symbol of a single feeling. The sculpture was definitely non-representational, but looking at it gave Kaidan an overwhelming sense of… sadness.
Unlike the war memorials on Earth, or Tuchanka, or Palaven—which portrayed the Glorious Dead, the heroes who saved the galaxy—this sculpture said simply ‘they’re gone. They’re not coming back.’
To see Shepard standing next to it seemed somehow almost blasphemous, and Kaidan could tell he felt it.
That was the message of the memorial wall in the center of the park as well. The Normandy crew on the wall were not epic saviors of mankind, but friends and loved ones who were gone. It was like leaving a family photo album as a war memorial—an expression of private grief open to the public.
Partly it made Kaidan feel uncomfortable, but another part of him understood. There was no better way of showing it. They were names on the wall, not ranks and titles. Anyone viewing the wall might’ve been on the ship that saved the universe. The Normandy was everybody. And saving the universe was noble, but it was little consolation when your own personal universe was gone.
Kaidan’s own personal universe touched the wall, right where Kaidan had hung his name last year.
“And all the blank spaces…?” Shepard said, voice thick.
“Every member of the Normandy’s crew,” Kaidan stood back to leave Shepard alone with the dead, “will have their name placed on the wall the day after their funeral. Any surviving members of the crew will be invited to attend the ceremony.”
“Like the war never ended.”
“Like life is moving on,” Kaidan said gently, but Shepard seemed to have heard. It was hollow consolation, a mantra Kaidan repeated to himself over and over again. On every shuttle to commemorate another Hero of the Citadel monument. Sitting on the floor of Shepard’s quarters after the Crucible wave, picking up the broken remains of model ships.
He put his hand around Shepard’s waist: Shepard had spent enough time alone with the dead, now. It was the last time Kaidan would say anything about ‘life moving on.’ He would be that mantra, now.
The two stood and read each of the names together, smiled at all the blank spaces and the chip in the center from when Kaidan had literally pried Shepard’s name off the wall.
They’d visit the wall many times over their lives together, and there was a space for both of them at the end.
Day 5: August 5th-Romance (Sheploo)
---
Kaidan still can’t believe his luck, thinks he never might, not fully. Waking up with Shepard at his side, sharing his cabin, used to be a dream back when they started out serving together.
And then he lost him and rejected him and he still came back, and he wanted Kaidan and Kaidan still wanted him.
It seems too unreal still, too much like he used to dream and he fears waking up finding out it’s not real, that Shepard is dead after all.
He never tells Shepard of those fears, not wanting to seem uncertain or worried, so instead he’ll curl up with Shepard in his arms, or hold his hand extra tight, give it an extra squeeze before another mission, or if he’s not coming along, he’ll kiss him, hard and fast and barely refrain from asking him to come back alive this time too.
Then he’ll spend all his time worrying, listening and watching for the smallest hint of him returning or something going wrong.
Like when they’re supposed to be on shore leave and Shepard gets shot at and falls through a fish tank and several floors down, surrounded by mercs with only a pistol to defend himself with.
So he mocks Shepard, pretends everything’s okay and that he didn’t fear for the worst when he heard that Shepard needed help.
When Kaidan looks at the clone, he secretly wonders if he’d been able to tell the difference right from the start if he hadn’t known about it, and he tries telling himself that of course he would know, of course, because that thing isn’t Shepard, will never be.
And then the clone is dead and they have some time off, hopefully, at last, and maybe now they’ll finally get to spend some time together, just the two of them.
They do, when the party ends, both so exhausted they barely exchange a few kisses before falling asleep, fully clothed, in each other’s arms and Kaidan starts to finally feel that this, this is real; Shepard in his arms and their extended family out there, and maybe if they survive this they’ll get to do this again.
Then it’s finally just the two of them and the apartment, and of course Kaidan will take advantage of that, making them dinner, getting distracted about the thoughts of a life that can be like this in the future, the two of them and children, relaxing on the couch and then burning off those calories because Kaidan needs to feel Shepard, needs to feel him alive and well beneath his hands, warm to the touch and responsive to the smallest touch.
It’s so easy, being with Shepard, fitting together perfectly as they do, finally having found one another after all these years of denials and uncertainty.
Kaidan never thought saying I love you would be easy, but telling it to Shepard is as easy as breathing, as easy as sliding his own hand into his, or kissing him in the morning despite both having morning breaths.
And hearing Shepard say it back makes Kaidan so happy that he thinks he might float away into space, and he doesn’t care how sappy it sounds, because he’s happy, he’s in love and loved and he’ll never leave Shepard’s side, ever again.
Because he might just die if he had to.
The attack on Mars leaves Kaidan with retrograde amnesia: no memory of his past, his family, his career, or his relationship with Shepard. She decides it would be better not to tell him about their complicated history. When he rejoins the Normandy's crew and begins putting his life back together, he runs into a lot of gaps and no one willing to piss off the volatile commander by filling them in for him.
Next chapter up!
“Honestly, Shepard, I’m impressed. Kaidan’s skills and power level are at least as good as I remember, possibly better. I would say he’s made some advances in the time since we were hunting Saren.” Liara's smile grated on Mica’s nerves.
“Or he’s forgotten why he used to hold back.”
“I suppose that’s possible.” Liara frowned. “Regardless, I consulted Doctor Chakwas, since she’s far more of an expert in human physiology. She hypothesized that it has to do with how biotics are trained, especially humans, associating biotic power with physical activities.”
Mica nodded. “Pair the energy with a gesture that’s easier to remember and replicate.”
“Precisely. Doctor Chakwas believes that the ‘muscle memory’ of those mnemonic gestures has been retained entirely intact. Apparently the human brain stores those sorts of memories differently from personal event memory, so it’s reasonable to assume they wouldn’t be affected by the amnesia.”
---
Finding someone who’s been through something similar as you can be rewarding, but also painful. If one is ready and willing to talk about it, it can be a factor in a healing progress, but if not, it will only rip up old wounds.
Learning Steve lost his husband, to the Collectors, feels like a stab to Kaidan’s gut.
Kaidan was luckier, so much much luckier, but he still knows what Steve is going through, spending two years thinking Shepard was dead, at the hands of the Collectors.
Funny how the world works; using the twisted remnants of what used to be the greatest, most mysterious alien race into something that connects people.
Steve talks about his husband, and Kaidan offers only sympathy and not pity. He knows everything about pity, after all.
Kaidan in return talks about Shepard and their adventures before the Collectors, how different things were back then, before the Collectors, and before the Reapers became the threat they are now.
Other times they talk about their lives in the army, the comrades they haven’t seen in a long time and Kaidan’s students. Kaidan will talk about his biotics and mention how lucky he is to only suffer migraines, while Steve talks about the various ships and shuttles he’s flown.
They share their fear of losing again; Kaidan with Shepard and his family as the biggest, and Steve with James, as he’s lost virtually everyone else he’s ever been close to.
And he’ll tell Kaidan about James and their time serving together and how glad Steve is that James is there with him, providing a familiar face in the sea of the ever-growing family on board.
Sometimes they don’t talk about anything in particular, just relax on the starboard observation deck, or in the lounge, looking at the stars, having a drink or playing poker with Shepard and James.
The quiet is good, too; the quiet you can experience when you’re so comfortable around a person that you know that the silence isn’t too much, isn’t stretching out, and Kaidan can see the good it does to Steve, especially after he placed the last recoding of his husband’s voice at the memorial at the Citadel.
Kaidan never said anything to Steve, but it was clear he threw himself into his work in order to avoid thinking about Robert.
But it’s impossible for them both to stay quiet when Shepard takes a dive in the Triton; impossible not to share worries and fears and what if he doesn’t come back up? Talking about others things, things unrelated to what can go wrong is hard, but Steve starts talking about where he grew up, prompting Kaidan to talk about English Bay and how different the sea of this planet is to the one he loves and how he really hopes there are no giant monsters living in or just outside the bay.
And when Shepard comes back up, Kaidan can’t help but kiss him, thankful that James is distracting Steve, because Kaidan wants to protect his newest brother, doesn’t want to flaunt what he has but Steve lost.
Because he cares enough about the other man to do that, which is something he’s never done with anyone ever before.
