Work Text:
The door of the shuttle slides up and clicks into its open position. Kaidan could cut the tension in the air with a knife as James and the small cohort of N7 candidates under his tutelage rise. Instead, he watches silently, brows furrowed in frustration as James stalks angrily out of the shuttle and through the Normandy’s docking bay in the direction of the armory.
The N6s glance sidelong at Kaidan, and his prisoner, as they file out, but they say nothing. He sighs and rubs a hand over two days worth of stubble on his cheeks. Standing, he gently grips the thin arm of the salarian woman next to him and helps her to her feet. “Come on, Arkin.”
Arkin does not reply. She lets Kaidan guide her through the shuttle bay to the lift, and rides silently next to him until its doors open onto the engineering deck. Shepard had used the storage room under engineering as something of a brig a few times during the war. It’s as good a place to keep a rogue spectre as any. He takes her down the short staircase, surprised to see that since the last time he was here, the room has been retrofitted for exactly that purpose. Sitting her down on the simple cot, Kaidan crouches in front of her.
“I wouldn’t bother trying to escape,” he says, reaching to unlock the cuffs on her wrists. “I’m pretty sure I am the only person on the ship that won’t shoot you on sight.”
She just stares at him, her mouth pressed into a tightly closed frown. Kaidan’s eyebrows draw in closer. Arkin’s expression is unnervingly close to the look James had given him when he pulled rank on a mission that, as far as the Alliance is concerned, he wasn’t actually involved in. Had he known the Ns were going to show up, or if James had been less bullheaded about it, Kaidan might have handled it differently.
“You look like you haven’t eaten in days.” The cuffs click open, and Kaidan lets them hang from his fingers. “I’ll have someone bring you a meal and some water.”
The armory is empty by the time Kaidan gets there. It’s almost exactly as he remembers it, but the lockers that line the walls have different names taped to them. The handwriting is different, too. James’ messy scrawl has long replaced Shepard’s crisp, blocky lettering. There’s no locker for Kaidan anymore, but someone has left a spare set of fatigues along with a basket of toiletries on the corner of an empty weapons bench. He strips out of his armor quickly and takes the clothes and the small basket up to the crew deck for a shower.
Hot water runs over his shoulders, washing away sweat and grime, and easing the ache in his muscles. It does not ease his frustration, however. As much of an eager pain in the ass James might have been during the war, he’d never struck Kaidan as the ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ type. On Ontahe, though, there had been a ruthless glint in his eyes that Kaidan had never seen before. Not in James, anyway. It doesn’t sit right.
Kaidan pulls a bottle out of the basket and raises an eyebrow when he looks at it. Instead of the cheap, Alliance issued all-in-one soap, it’s the shampoo he used when the Normandy was his home. He hasn’t used it in years. Luxury items are still in short supply, most of the galaxy’s factories and manufacturers having turned their attention to more needful things in the aftermath of the war. Even a bottle this small must have been expensive and difficult to acquire. If anyone could, though, it would be Steve, and as far as Kaidan knows, Steve’s still the Normandy’s requisitions officer. Kaidan finishes showering quickly, turning the water off before it runs cold.
He dresses just as quickly. The fatigues are actually his size, which is a nice change of pace. The last time he’d hitched a ride on an Alliance ship, he’d ended up with a set that hung off him uncomfortably. Kaidan eyes the razor in the basket and runs his fingers through his curls instead of combing them back. He needs to eat, and he needs to talk to James, so rather than shaving, he scoops up his things and heads for the crew quarters in search of an empty bunk to dump them on.
The mess hall is still crowded with faces Kaidan doesn’t recognize when he returns his tray to the galley. Any hope that he might see James there had slowly dwindled over the twenty minutes it took for him to finish his meal. It isn’t really a surprise given how angry James was when he got off the shuttle. Kaidan steps onto the lift and says, “Hey, EDI?”
“Yes, Spectre Alenko?” Until the moment she spoke, Kaidan hadn’t realized how much he missed her voice. The tension in his shoulders loosens a little, and he smiles.
“Where’s James?”
“Commander Vega is taking his frustration out on the gym equipment.” Without him needing to ask, the lift starts to move down toward it. “Jeff is already complaining that you haven’t been to the cockpit.”
“I’ll stop by before you drop me off,” he replies with a soft laugh. “Thanks.”
The lift opens, and Kaidan crosses the cargo bay and leans in the doorway of the gym. It’s empty, except for James, who is punishing a heavy bag on the far side of the room. He’s been at it a while, judging from the sweat pouring down his face and the prominence of the veins in his forearms. His shirt is piled up at his feet, revealing part of a new tattoo. Kalros—her head at least—rears up over James’ hip toward his ribs. It’s similar to the old murals they’d seen of her on Tuchanka, but stylized just a little to match the rest of his ink.
If James notices Kaidan’s presence, which he almost certainly does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Kaidan stays where he is a while longer, staring with furrowed eyebrows like maybe watching the fluid movement of his body or observing the particular way his muscles flex and release might give him some insight into James’ mind. It does not. Eventually, Kaidan crosses the gym, catching the bag and holding it. James keeps throwing punches, eyes so focused on the bag that Kaidan is surprised he hasn’t burnt holes through it.
Kaidan can feel the impact of his fist move the bag, and he leans in to keep it still. “Can we talk?”
“About what?” It would sound almost casual if not for the flat pitch of James’ voice and the punch that punctuates the question, hard enough to make Kaidan’s shoulder ache. Kaidan doesn’t answer, and James’ jaw tightens. “All the Spectres in the galaxy, and it had to be you. Couldn’t have been some fucking asshole I could just tell to fuck off.”
Kaidan’s known James long enough to know that if he stays quiet, James will keep talking, so he keeps the thought that another Spectre might have just shot him to himself.
“Nah,” James continues, hitting the bag again. “My luck ain’t that good. Just had to be someone I know and respect. Who I thought respected me.” The next impact is bone-jarring, but Kaidan doesn’t let go of the bag. “Guess I was wrong about that.”
“You weren’t—”
“You undermined me in front of my squad!” James looks up, finally meeting Kaidan’s gaze with the full force of his anger darkening his eyes. He barely raised his voice, but it echos off the walls of the empty training room, confirming what Kaidan already knew. James’ hands drop to his sides, and he bends to pick his shirt up off the floor and wipe sweat off his face.
Kaidan sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re right. I did, and I’m sorry for that.” He walks around James until they’re face to face again. “You have to know I’d never have done that if it hadn’t been necessary. You have to know why I did it.”
James glares at him, his jaw tightening so much Kaidan can see the tic of muscle in his neck. “Shepard would never have—”
“Shepard isn’t here,” Kaidan replies flatly. His fingers dig into the flesh of his biceps. Shepard’s been dead for almost four years, and still everything always comes back to him.
“I can see that,” James says with a derisive snort.
Kaidan’s eyes narrow, and his skin heats as he leans in closer to James. “Is that what this is about? You’re trying twice as hard to be like Shepard because I’m not him?”
“Someone has to.”
“No, they don’t.”
James raises his eyebrows, his dark eyes glinting with that same ruthless energy Kaidan saw in them on Ontahe. The same hard gaze he’d met time and time again when he looked at Shepard.
Thinking about Shepard, talking about him, still raises a storm of conflicting emotions in Kaidan, and he takes a breath, trying to maintain his composure. The breath comes out in a low, quiet voice that belies his own turmoil. “You think I don’t know I can’t fill his shoes, James? God knows if I didn’t know it already, the whole galaxy is standing by to remind me how much better he was at this than I am.”
“That’s not—”
“Every mission I go on, every time something goes wrong, I think about a million ways it would have gone differently if Shepard had been there.” Kaidan closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose so hard it hurts. “God, I didn’t even like him. So, if you think you can fill his shoes. If… if you want to be Shepard 2.0, be my guest, because I will never be him.”
James just stares at him for a moment, brows furrowed. “You didn’t like Shepard?”
“That’s your takeaway?” Kaidan lets out a sudden bark of laughter, and it tastes bitter on his tongue. “No, not always. You know who I did like?” When he gets no reply, he continues, stepping closer until they’re inches apart. “James Vega. He was the kind of man the galaxy needs more of.”
Shaking his head, Kaidan turns to walk away. His body vibrates with anger and a hurt he can’t quantify. He gets two steps before James’ hand closes on his forearm.
“Kaidan, wait.”
Violet energy blooms across his skin as his corona flares, just enough to convince most people to stop touching him. James holds on, and Kaidan lets his corona sputter out as he turns to face him.
“Let go,” he says, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice. “I wanted to have a conversation with James, not Shepard.”
James releases him, and Kaidan can feel him watching as he stalks out of the gym.
Kaidan frowns up at the underside of the bunk above his, an aching anger still pressing painfully on his heart. The Normandy will make port in Citadel space tomorrow, and he’ll be walking away from this problem with a prisoner, an actual lead on the mission, and his integrity intact. It should be a relief. Instead, the idea of stepping off the ship without resolving this makes him want to scream.
Maybe it's the storm of emotion that still tears through him every time Shepard comes up. Kaidan’s relationship with him had been complicated. He’d meant what he said about not liking Shepard, at least not all the time. The loss still left a hole in him he’s sure he’ll never fill. Losing James would be worse.
There’s nothing to be done about it now. Kaidan already apologized for his unavoidable misstep, and he will not take back anything he said in the gym.
EDI’s voice sounds quietly from his omni-tool. “Spectre Alenko, Commander Vega wishes to speak with you in the Captain’s Cabin.”
Kaidan sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Tell him I’m on my way.”
Hopefully, this conversation goes better than the last.
The lift carries him quickly up to James’ cabin, and he takes a deep breath as stands in front of the entry pad. Kaidan would like to part with the possibility of still counting James among his friends. The idea of never seeing or speaking to him again makes Kaidan ill. He rests his palm on the pad, and the door opens into a space that is both new and familiar.
The last time he’d stepped into this room, it had belonged to Shepard. There had been hardly any indication of personality in it then. Now it feels like the kind of place someone calls home. The display case Shepard had never had time for is full of ship and station models, and the fish tank that had always remained empty has been replaced with an armory display of James’ favorite weapons. Posters of classic cars, an N7 banner, and even a few paintings of the ruins being slowly uncovered on Tuchanka decorate walls that had previously remained bare.
James, standing between the couch and the coffee table, has never appeared to belong somewhere more than he does in this room. It strikes Kaidan suddenly how much more heavily Shepard’s shadow must hang over James. If Kaidan can’t seem to get out from under it while simply following a similar career path, how is James meant to while commanding Shepard’s ship and quite literally occupying the same space Shepard had?
“Hey,” Kaidan says, leaning against the display case at the top of the steps. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yeah. You want a drink?” James gestures to a bottle of tequila on the coffee table and rocks back and forth on his feet. “Esteban managed to swing a bottle of the good stuff.”
Kaidan shakes his head, but one corner of his mouth pulls up in a small smile. Stepping down the stairs, he looks around again and says, “I like what you’ve done with the place. It suits you.”
“Had to do something. It felt like living in a mausoleum,” James replies. “Besides, that fish tank was fucking stupid.”
Kaidan laughs, and the grin James gives him is the same one he remembers from evenings spent modifying weapons and repairing armor in the armory. A soft warmth blooms in his chest, the remaining tension of their earlier argument draining from him. “I can’t believe the Alliance didn’t take it out when they started the refit. Maybe Anderson liked it.”
James grabs the bottle of tequila around the neck, spins the top off with his thumb, and pours himself a shot as he sits on the couch and beckons for Kaidan to join him. He slams the shot as Kaidan sits, then stares down at the empty glass in his hands for a long moment, his face turning serious again. “I don’t think Shepard was a better Spectre than you.”
“Thanks,” Kaidan says with a shrug. “He was, though. At least, he was more the kind of person the Council expects their Spectres to be.”
“Doesn’t mean he was better.” He looks over and meets Kaidan’s gaze. “Just means you’re different.”
“So are you.”
“Yeah.” James sighs and sets his shot glass down on the table. “Shepard was always so sure of himself, you know? Always knew what he was doing. Never questioned how he got to the goal post. He’s the whole reason I’m an N7. I don’t know how to be that guy. I just…”
“Don’t want to disappoint him?” Kaidan supplies when James trails off into silence.
James nods, then snorts as he looks back down at his hands. “I sound like an idiot.”
“You don’t.” Kaidan reaches over impulsively and grabs one of James’ hands. It’s bigger than his, warm and calloused from so many years of handling weapons. The spontaneous touch sends a wave of nerves through him. He runs a thumb over James’ knuckles, and the casual intimacy just feels right. “I get it, James. But he isn’t the reason you’re an N7. You got that offer before you ever stepped foot on the Normandy. They didn’t extend it because they wanted another Shepard.”
“What about you?” James asks softly, staring wide-eyed at their connected hands.
Kaidan squeezes his hand gently, his heart suddenly racing. “What about me?”
James’ cheeks flush as he looks up. “I thought for a while that you and Shepard… but then earlier you said that you didn’t even like him.”
The hard left in conversation makes Kaidan’s head spin a little. It’s certainly not the first time someone has thought he was involved romantically with Shepard. “There was a war on. I never really gave myself the time to consider romance with anyone. If I had, it wouldn’t have been with Shepard.”
“And now that the war is over?”
Kaidan thinks for a moment, looking down at a hand that feels like it belongs in his. If not for the war, he’d have figured it out years ago. “I’m considering it now. It would be nice to have someone who gets it, you know? The life and the things I’ve been through. I know the whole old school white picket fence probably isn’t in the cards for me, but I don’t need that to be happy. What about you, James? What do you want?”
“Long term? Galactic peace. Enough credits to retire and buy a nice beach house somewhere tropical. Maybe a fan club,” James replies with an impish grin. “Right now, though, I really want to kiss you.”
Kaidan cups James’ face with his free hand, leaning in until their lips touch. The kiss is slow and lingering, and Kaidan’s hand slides from James’ cheek to the side of his neck as James buries his fingers in Kaidan’s hair.
When he pulls away, Kaidan lets his forehead rest against James’ and smiles. “I want to be the president of your fan club.”
“Anything you want, Blue,” he says with a breathless laugh. “Just fucking kiss me again already.”