Worth Living For, Act I, Chap 4-2

As Kaidan had let his eyes travel over Shepard's scar, he'd been careful to keep his expression open and neutral.  The last thing he wanted was for him to believe that the sight of it repulsed him, or worse, inspired his pity.  Neither of which was true.  His hand had absentmindedly traveled to his lips though, feeling the two fine lines there that he'd been told were barely visible, but were always the first thing that he would see whenever he stared back at his own reflection in the mirror.

Every soldier had scars…  It was unlikely for anyone to be able to fight without coming back with a few scrapes and cuts, or even a bullet wound or two if they'd been unlucky.  Bruised and torn skin would heal, leaving marks that became fast forgotten.  Krogans found scars sexy; especially those earned in battle.  For him, most of them were simply part of the job.

But there were a few exceptions.  A lip split open after a well-placed punch, the edge of a knife briefly resting across his face, prompting him to break loose.  A constant reminder of the first life he'd ever taken, and of what had been lost in the aftermath…  Yeah, some scars were definitely harder to forget about than others; especially those that couldn't be seen with the naked eye.  As impressive as that large healed burn on Shepard's skin was, he was much more concerned with the pain that had been dealt within.

He waited for his Commander to finish talking, listening attentively to his words, before standing up and walking over to him. He stopped at arm's length, gently holding his gaze.

"Your losses don't have to define you, Shepard," he said, eyes soft and filled with a gentle understanding.  "But your past experiences will inevitably influence the choices you make, and provide opportunity for growth."  Kaidan did believe that certain events did play a role in shaping the person that someone was likely to become, but that wasn't all there was to it.

"Another person put in exactly the same situation as yours would probably have reacted very differently to it, and evolved in another direction.  There's a huge difference between who you are, and what you do."

Shepard looked back at him for a long moment, before his gaze averted to the side, barely able to contain the look of embarrassment threatening to cross his face. He'd lost himself for a moment there, forgetting that he and Kaidan barely knew each other – he hadn't shown his scar to anyone else in years, and here he was, baring it and much of his inner thoughts for his Lieutenant to see. He wasn't sure if it was because he was just in a fragile mental state and looking to cling to the first person who might offer him a shoulder – but, no, that wasn't like him. When things got rough, he had himself and no one else, and that was always the way he'd preferred it. It was far easier to just sit in his cabin, isolated, using the quiet and solitude as a means of sorting through his thoughts and emotions and organizing whatever mess he'd managed to stir up.

No, there was something about Kaidan, about his honesty and his calm demeanor, the way he looked at someone to show that he was listening and he cared – it made him suddenly want to spill his guts, thinking that maybe he'd found someone who wouldn't judge him or offer him hollow pity. He'd had enough of that to last a lifetime. The fact alone that Kaidan had looked at the scar on his side and hadn't gotten that typical wide-eyed, gaping look of mixed pity and disgust… that was enough for him.

"I… you're right," Shepard finally conceded, reaching down and tucking his shirt back into his belt, still trying not to look embarrassed. "I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable. You have to understand that I'm not used to speaking about these kinds of things with other people."

"You're not making me uncomfortable, Shepard," Kaidan said sincerely, thinking that it was actually quite the opposite.  He hadn't felt as comfortable around anyone since a very long time…  Except perhaps with Jenkins, but that was entirely different.  As good a friend as Richard had been, he'd never been tempted to get onto more serious or personal matters in the times they'd spent together.

Jenkins was this funny, exuberant guy that accepted people for who they were, and found ways to bring out the best in them whenever he was around.  The type of person that simply loved everyone and that everyone ended up appreciating in return.  They felt good and generally ended up having a great time whenever he was around, forgetting all about their worries…

But he wasn't the type of person that Kaidan would have felt comfortable confiding in.  It was a bit like trying to compare a bubbly glass of champagne to a warm cup of hot chocolate.  One of them was very exciting and went straight to your head, leaving you a bit dizzy.  While the other was familiar, soothing, and comforting, making you feel safe and appeased.

And there was something about the whole situation that truly bothered him.  Udina, the Council, even the Alliance up to a certain point…  They all seemed to have very high and strong expectations regarding what Shepard would or should be able to accomplish, but none of them appeared to really be ready to commit to him in return.

It was one of these typical political situations where he could easily see them take credit for his successes as long as everything ran smoothly.  But the moment that Shepard would be faced with making controversial or difficult choices that might make them look bad, they could easily find a way to prove that he was only acting on his own volition.

Shepard, on the other hand, appeared to be very quick to feel responsible for everything that either went right or wrong in a mission.  A strong sense of accountability was something that Kaidan had always admired and respected in a leader, but in Shepard's case, he feared that someone could try to take advantage of it.  Now probably wasn't really the time to discuss it, though.

Still, that only reinforced the desire that he had to make sure that Shepard would be able to receive all the support that he might need.

"Considering that we're deep in space and facing some pretty crazy odds half the time, I thought that you might appreciate being able to take off the uniform and have a friend to talk to once in a while."

His eyes went wide as he realized what he'd just said, and he quickly amended the statement. "As in being able to just be yourself and relax when you aren't in a situation that requires your leadership.  I wasn't referring to your actual clothes." Even though Shepard had just lifted his shirt to show him the scar, and that was okay too.  Oh, just shoot me!

Shepard snorted with barely contained laughter – the embarrassed look on Kaidan's face was enough to make him cut it out, however, forcing on a straight face. Laughing at him wasn't going to help the situation any. But it was kind of nice, being able to laugh with someone else when a few hours ago he'd been sitting on his bed in isolation and struggling with heavy thoughts and painful memories.

"I know what you meant, Kaidan," he said with a soft grin, before looking down with a slight chuckle. "And I appreciate it, really. It's… good to have a friend to lean on every once in a while."

Kaidan smiled back at him, relieved to see that Shepard seemed to have found his little blunder amusing.  It sure beat the alternative.  "Anytime, Shepard," he said, before the low grumble coming from the Commander's stomach reminded him of the other reason why he'd first came here.

"But really, I should probably let you eat now, or else the soup will be cold," he added with a little laugh; then hesitated, not wanting to sound like he was trying to get rid of him.  "Of course I can also stay here while you do, if you'd like."

Shepard laughed again, before turning the chair at his desk and sitting down, dragging the food tray closer. "Well, I'm not exercising my Commander status right now, so I'm not going to order you to do anything. But you're free to stay if you like; I won't ask you to leave," he said with a soft smile, before picking up the protein drink Kaidan had brought with the meal and uncapping it. He seemed to brace himself as he lifted it to his lips, but a surprised look crossed his face once he'd actually gotten a taste of it. "Okay, Lieutenant, I've got to ask. The only time these things taste any good is when you bring them to me. I thought the Alliance might've changed their recipe but the ones in the mess still taste like ass. What's your secret?"

Kaidan laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed, happy to be allowed to stay a while longer.  Yeah…  That.  "I'm an only child," he began explaining. "While my father is this very calm and collected ex-Alliance officer, people that don't know him might even call him distant or stoic…  My mom is actually a very warm, caring and nurturing person…  if sometimes a bit overprotective."

The slightly confused look and raised eyebrow let him know that Shepard didn't quite understand his current line of thoughts.  "So anyway, when I first joined the Alliance military, I sort of ended up mentioning in one of my emails that the protein shakes that they had the biotics drink here were disgusting," he continued, "Next thing you know, mom sends me a crate filled with all types of different flavored powder samples, with a little note telling me to choose my favorite and contact her afterwards, so she could send more."

"Strawberry, chocolate, maple, and blueberry were good…  Watermelon just made the whole thing even more disgusting," he said with a little wince.  "But I find that the butterscotch and coffee flavor is the one that better masks the shake's bitterness and general uh… 'ass taste.'" he said, reusing Shepard's own rather colorful terms with an amused smile.

"So yeah, it's been almost ten years since; but, each time I'm serving on a ship, mom still regularly checks its docking schedule to make sure that I don't run out of the stuff.  At first I found it a bit embarrassing, but now I figure that it just makes her feel like she's helping me out in her own way."  He could only imagine how difficult it must be for her to be forced to wait on the sidelines while her son ships out to go fight and/or try to resolve some conflict, just as she had done with her husband before.

"I could keep fixing them for you if you'd like," he offered. "I think that our diet requirements are pretty similar, and preparing one or two portions at the same time is not much more trouble…  Besides, mom would probably get a complete kick out of knowing that she's also making life easier for the first human Spectre." Hopefully she wouldn't start sending Shepard sweaters, too.

Shepard chuckled, pausing to take another swig of the drink, savoring the taste for a moment. "Damn, you're right. It doesn't even taste like the same thing," he said, before throwing a sheepish grin in his direction. "I'd really appreciate that, actually. Thank you."

He leaned back in his chair, angling it to better face Kaidan, before he reached over and picked up the sandwich. He took a bite out of it - though he didn't make anywhere near as pleased of a face at the taste, chewing thoughtfully and swallowing. "Your file said you're from Vancouver. What's it like there?"

Kaidan shrugged.  "It's a nice city, I guess," he said, trying to figure out what Shepard might find interesting.  "Depends what you're looking for…  Personally, I tend to enjoy the quiet and the great outdoors. Go skiing once in a while, enjoy a long walk in Stanley Park, or just relax at my parents' apartment."  Yeah, he probably wasn't exactly the most exciting friend to have around.

"I uh… tend to stay away from crowds and most of the big city life.  The headaches often get worse when there's too much happening.  But I know there are some good restaurants and plenty of entertainment," he offered, hoping that he didn't sound too boring.

"Hm. I think you would have liked Mindoir," Shepard replied, a slight smile working across his lips. "It was very quiet, kind of a personal place. Not a lot of hustle and bustle, you know? Beautiful forests, lots of farmland. No snow for skiing, unfortunately, but it didn't lack for outdoor activity."

He looked down at the sandwich in his hand, expression flickering to something unreadable for a moment before he looked up at Kaidan again, concern crossing his features. "You said you get headaches. Is it because of your implant? You're an L2, right?"

In retrospect that question was a bit stupid, Shepard realized – he already knew that Kaidan was an L2, along with everyone else on the Normandy. He'd read it in his file, before he'd even met the man. He also knew a little bit about the physical side effects associated with his implant, though that information was bare minimum. Just a short bulleted checklist, one or two words to each bullet point. Nothing about his functionality or how common said side effects were, however – just a footnote recommending he serve on ships with physicians trained to take care of biotics. And considering the fact that the Normandy had two biotics – at least, until Liara and Wrex had come aboard – that hadn't been a problem.

Maybe he just wanted to hear it from Kaidan himself. Bulleted checklists only revealed so much, and a wall of text hardly had the same perspective as the soldier it was being written about. Letters didn't have experience or opinions. People did. And honestly, if Kaidan had to deal with these kinds of things on a daily basis, he'd rather hear his take on it – not what his file had to say about it.

Kaidan shot him a brief surprised look.  "Yeah, I was among the first to receive the L2 implant," he confirmed.  Somehow, he'd always assumed that Shepard knew for sure, and had been briefed by either Dr. Chakwas or someone else on the ship regarding the complications that he was suffering as a result of it.  Actually, that probably explained why he'd suggested that Dr. Chakwas check up on him when he'd mentioned having a flare-up the other day.  It's not that Shepard didn't trust him to take care of himself; simply that he hadn't known that it was a pretty common occurrence for him.  He'd just been too quick to jump to conclusions.

"I guess we're pretty rare now considering that most of us either chose to get an L3 retrofit, or ended up with serious physical and mental disabilities." Or dead, he thought sadly, not really wanting to get into the more gruesome details of Conatix's early "experiments" and turn the whole conversation into a huge sob story.

"So far, I've been lucky.  I only get occasional severe migraines; the Alliance always makes sure that there's a doctor on site that knows how to monitor L2 implants, and check for any sign of deterioration or complication whenever I get a new assignment," he said, not wanting Shepard to start worrying about his health problems possibly getting in the way of his ability to perform his duty.

"My condition's pretty much been stable over the last ten years, and Chakwas is one of the best.  She probably knows my head better than I do by now."

"It must've been rough being one of the first L2s," Shepard said, leaning forward in his chair a bit, elbows resting on his knees, genuine concern crossing his face. "Was it bad when you first got your implant?"

This was unfamiliar territory for Shepard. Truth be told he was downright lucky in comparison to most of the biotics around his age group; he'd been fitted with an L3 implant, and despite not getting it until much later than most of his kind, he'd taken to it just fine. No complications whatsoever. Maybe a few headaches and strained muscles the first few times he'd tried to use his powers, but those passed quickly with training and time. Now the only thing he had to worry about was keeping the amp port situated at the base of his skull properly taken care of, and that was small change in comparison to what most L2s had to deal with.

If anything, he owed a lot to the L2s that came before him. The improvements made in the subsequent L3 implants were made based on trial and error, using the L2 implants as examples of what to expect and what needed to be changed. So it was because of people like Kaidan's suffering that Shepard had a working implant, period. There were hundreds of L2s out there dealing with everything from migraines to crippling insanity, while L3 biotics like Shepard were bitching if they got an infection around their amp jack. It really put things in perspective, he realized.

"It took some time to adapt to it," Kaidan admitted.  "At first, the Conatix scientists used to tell us that the side effects were a normal part of the integration process, and would disappear in time.  So they basically encouraged us to train harder in order to get used to the implant faster."

A pained look crossed his features as he remembered the result of these ill-advised recommendations.  "Of course, that only ended putting too much strain on the implants that were already not quite functioning properly, and making some of the damages permanent instead."

The most frustrating part in all of this was that, while Conatix had been forced to fold after the BAaT program was shut down, they'd never really had to face any serious charges.  And now, many biotic extremists preferred to hold the Alliance directly responsible instead.  He couldn't deny that the Alliance had made mistakes; giving so much power to a private company without proper supervision probably being the biggest of them.

But for all their faults, the Alliance had thankfully learned from those mistakes, and come up with more viable solutions like the Ascension Project.  He knew that it would never make up for what many of the less fortunate L2s had suffered…  But seeking revenge for the past by attacking an organization that now held strong ethical standards regarding how biotics should be treated seemed a bit senseless.  Though it was true that not all of them had managed to stay sane, unfortunately; many of which now needed to be stopped before they could bring harm to themselves or others.

"So I guess the hardest part was watching what some of the other kids ended up having to go through…  Like I said, I got lucky.  I've learned to identify what generally triggers the headaches, and avoid it whenever possible.  There's also a few things that I can do to get some relief…  Ash's head massage last night was surprisingly effective."

"Well well, I'm glad to hear Chief Williams is helping you out," Shepard said, the barest hint of a grin playing across his lips. He could tell that talking about Conatix was a painful memory for the Lieutenant, so he took the opportunity for the subject change the moment it presented itself. As curious as he was, he wasn't going to push the matter when it was clear that it was making him uncomfortable. He couldn't even imagine how painful it must have been for Kaidan – simultaneously dealing with his own side effects and watching the kids around him fare the same, if not worse. But rather than feeling pity for him, he was overcome with a new sense of respect for the Lieutenant. It must have taken an inordinate amount of bravery and strength to overcome that kind of pain, both physically and psychologically.

He looked down at the barely eaten sandwich still clutched in his hand, mulling it over for a moment before he finally looked up again. "Lieutenant, I admire you," he said abruptly, before a somewhat awkward look crossed his face when he realized he'd said it out loud. He scrambled to clarify, realizing how odd the comment sounded out of context. "When I think about the other L2s I've heard about, a part of me feels sorry for them… They've taken all of their pain and suffering and turned it into revenge against the people that are trying to help them. But you're different. You've taken the pain you went through and moved on, using it to become stronger and to do good things. And I admire that."

"I, uh…  Thanks, Shepard," Kaidan said, averting his eyes for a moment and feeling the heat rushing to his neck, hoping that it wouldn't get all the way to his cheeks.  If he was blushing, Shepard at least had the kindness not to comment on it.

"I did get some help, though," he clarified, taking the opportunity to remind the Commander that no one should be expected to face all of their problems on their own.  "Without it, I probably wouldn't be where I am today."  Or anywhere at all…

Amusement twitched at the corners of Shepard's mouth, but he was gracious enough not to laugh. He hadn't realized how easy it was to get Kaidan flustered, but the Lieutenant was already blushing. He must not have been used to receiving such personal compliments from a superior officer. That seemed the most likely explanation; most of the Commanders that Shepard had served with during his early Alliance career were hard-asses who were far more likely to yell at him for looking at them funny than lend him kind words and company. Though that wasn't to say that Shepard was all compliments and coddling; he knew when to crack the whip when it was required of him. But the Normandy had a good crew, and considering the heavy nature of their current mission… He was perfectly fine with holding back so long as everyone kept their heads in the game. And with the dangers they were soon to face, the least he could do was lend an ear and a few kind words to the people he expected to follow him into battle.

"Yeah, I—" Shepard was cut off, however, when his omnitool suddenly flashed to life and began beeping, the shrill noise cutting through the relative silence of the room. He tapped the interface to stop the sound, bringing up the message window and sweeping his eyes over it. He gave a soft curse, before deactivating the glowing orange interface. "Sorry, Lieutenant, duty calls. Hackett's waiting on vid-comm."

He got to his feet, pausing long enough to down most of the protein shake and take a few more bites of the sandwich – he left the rest for later, though by how much he couldn't be sure. He paused before he could bolt out of the room, however, turning back to Kaidan. "And… thank you. For everything."

Kaidan nodded and smiled back at him.  "When you've got time later today or tomorrow, come find me. There's something else I'd like to talk to you about," he said quickly, not wanting to be responsible for having kept Admiral Hackett waiting.

Shepard gave him a quick nod, before the door slid shut behind him.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the day was refreshingly uneventful.  Enough so that Kaidan had found the time to get back to the crew's quarters and catch up a few hours of the sleep he'd missed earlier.  Thankfully, there had been no nightmares this time around.

He'd then spent the rest of the afternoon completing his regular duties and training with Liara in the storage area.  It had been a very... interesting experience, to say the least. Liara had insisted on trying to teach him how to create and maintain a biotic singularity.  As a result he'd managed to lift and throw a bunch of empty crates simultaneously in opposite directions; but, try as he might, he couldn't manage to conjure up that dark energy sphere and gravitational pull.

The harder he tried, the faster the crates flew instead, forcing the young asari to maintain a dark energy field around them in order to avoid getting hit by them.  And the more frustrated he was getting with his failed attempts, the more fun Liara seemed to be getting out of it.  Apparently, it reminded her of her own early training days.  They'd eventually had to stop when they'd started running out of crates, and the exhaustion had begun settling in.

Kaidan had to admit that he had enjoyed it…  Being able to relax and cut loose on his powers a little bit, while Liara had ensured that no one got hurt.

He'd taken a long and warm shower afterwards, trying to soothe the tension and weariness in his muscles.  He'd then put on a pair of blue sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt, coming out of the men's restroom while trying to rub the excess water out of his hair.

Catching sight of Shepard making his way towards the mess, he immediately dropped the towel on his shoulders and sprinted towards him, his bare feet making a slight smacking sound on the floor.  So much for being discreet.  

As Shepard turned around, probably having heard him running, he offered him a warm smile and stopped right in front of him, completely oblivious to the water still dropping from his disheveled hair, a few loose strands sticking to his forehead.

"Do you have time to talk now, Commander?" he asked – though it suddenly occurred to him that it was getting pretty late, and that most of the crew had already retired to their sleeping quarters.  Considering that Shepard obviously hadn't slept very well the night before, either, he realized he should probably just excuse himself and let him go…

Shepard stared at him for a moment longer than he probably should have, in retrospect. He'd become so accustomed to seeing the other man with his hair in the same style, slicked back out of his face, that it took him a few embarrassing seconds to recognize him at all. His black hair was tangled and damp and swept across his forehead, and Shepard realized that it had to have been at least an inch longer than regulation cut. Not that he cared, really.

Oh, hell. His shirt is see-through. Shepard kept his eyes averted upwards, stifling the awkward look that threatened to cross his face when he realized that Kaidan was still damp from having showered, and that his white t-shirt was doing a fantastic job of sticking to his skin like wet paper.

"Uh… Of course," he managed, correcting himself as best he could without looking too much like he was staring. He covered quickly, walking over to the table in the mess and pulling out a chair, the legs scraping across the steel floor. "Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him before he sat down, crossing his arms on the tabletop in front of him. "What's up, Lieutenant?"

"If it's a bad time or you're feeling tired, we could always talk tomorrow," he offered, still sitting down nevertheless.  Shepard had looked kind of uneasy and distracted for a few moments there, and Kaidan was afraid that it was because he didn't want to be impolite and turn him down.  Lower deck rumors said that Hackett had asked him to go investigate a geth incursion in the Armstrong Nebula, since they were already close by.  He probably had a lot on his plate already.

Shepard quickly shook his head – maybe a little more quickly than he should have, but still. "No, no. Now is fine. We're going to be in the Armstrong Nebula by morning hours so this is about the only time to talk," he said with a crooked smile. "So shoot. What's on your mind?"

"Uh…  Okay," Kaidan said, hesitating for a second there.  From looking a bit uncomfortable a few moments earlier, Shepard now seemed very eager to have this conversation.  Not that it didn't please him!  On the contrary, he was really glad that the Commander was willing to devote some more of his time to him.

He also realized that he probably should have rehearsed what he was going to say before getting there.  Somehow "the lack of support we are receiving from higher-ups is making me worried that they might end up taking advantage of your trust, and letting you carry the entire responsibility for some of the tough calls that we might be forced to make in order to fulfill our mission" didn't sound quite right, and could be interpreted as a lack of trust in his leadership abilities.

And that was the last thing that he wanted Shepard to think.  He had complete faith in his judgment, and had seen enough to know that the Commander was the kind of person that always tried to do the right thing.  He was also under the impression that he had a tendency to be unable to say no to people asking for his help, and a willingness to sacrifice himself if need be…  And that worried him.

He trusted Shepard, but ultimately, he just didn't trust other people's intentions towards him.  The Council, the Ambassador…  Even the Alliance.  They all had a public image to uphold and their people's trust to maintain.  Letting someone like Shepard take the fall if things went horribly wrong along the way might be a lot more tempting than openly admitting their own mistakes.

"We've played it pretty close to the book so far.  But we're a long way from backup," he finally began to say, hoping that it wouldn't sound too bad. "We've got some tough calls to make.  I'm just saying, try to leave yourself a way out.  I've seen what cutting corners can do and I'd hate to have that happen to you, Shepard."  

He looked down at his hands, fidgeting a bit nervously with his fingers.  "I-I don't want to send any bad signals.  Just… uh… working on what I've picked up.  You tell me if I'm going too far."

Shepard's brows knitted in worry – he couldn't quite tell what Kaidan's angle was just yet, but it was clear something was perturbing him. Being completely open and honest with a superior officer was obviously still a foreign concept for him, and no amount of insistence on Shepard's part was going to make that awkward discomfort go away just yet. "You have an issue with how things are going?" he asked, posture straightening somewhat to show that the Lieutenant had his full attention.

"I'm not questioning any decision you've made, Shepard.  Let me be clear about that," he said, hoping that his Commander would believe him.  Especially after everything that Shepard had been through.  "It's just my experience that once someone lets something slide, it tends to pick up speed.  You get my meaning?"  Yeah, because he really had the feeling that he was being incredibly clear right now.

"Talk to me, Kaidan," Shepard said, keeping his tone open and welcoming, in hopes that he might be able to get the Lieutenant to relax a bit. He really wished he would just come right out and say what he needed to say. He didn't care if it was "insubordinate" – if that's what Kaidan really thought, he wanted to know. Truth was always more important than respect, no matter how critical. "You've got a little black raincloud sitting over your head."

Kaidan had to chuckle a bit at that, especially considering that he was probably still looking a little drenched from his earlier shower.  "I'll try to keep the deck dry," he said with a small lopsided grin, his amusement twinkling in his eyes; then grew serious again.  The best way to illustrate his thoughts was probably to come up with a concrete example.

Unfortunately, the only one he had in mind right now was a bit on the personal side…  To tell the truth, he didn't even know if he was still supposed to be openly talking about this.  It was meant to be classified information, after all.  But he supposed that Shepard did have full Spectre clearance status in Council space, and he would keep what he was going to say to himself.  At least, he trusted him as much.

"You know the records about the biotic training out on Jump Zero?" he said, waiting for Shepard to give him a little nod before continuing.  "They're all classified. Because the Alliance… made mistakes." He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair.  "After First Contact, Conatix was set up to track element zero exposures and develop implants for humans.  Once we had an embassy on the Citadel, Conatix could bring in 'experts' instead of taking it slow."

Shepard frowned a bit – he wasn't as well versed in the history of biotics, which was a little bit embarrassing considering the fact that he was one. He knew the basic political mumbo-jumbo and the information that anyone with an extranet connection could look up, but there were specifics that he just hadn't ever bothered to learn considering how sudden and unwelcome his powers had been. He'd never really made it a point to learn it all because it had never really concerned him. Kaidan, on the other hand, was obviously very intimate with the system, unlike Shepard. He got the distinct impression he was in for a history lesson. "Is there some reason we couldn't learn it on our own?"

"They didn't know where to start," Kaidan said with a sigh.  "Hell, it took a couple of years to even link biotics and eezo."  Once they did, they hadn't wasted time, though.  "Forget trying to get the kids to move stuff.  They had trouble just helping them not break their own limbs."  He supposed that this whole mess had begun with good intentions…  Even if those good intentions had quickly flown out the window the minute the company had decided that what mattered most was getting strong results to show the full potential of their implants, and inflate their profits.  "And their choice of teachers didn't help much," he added, a slightly troubled look crossing his features.

It wasn't hard for Shepard to put two and two together. "The only experts would have to be alien," he said, voice quiet. Why try to learn it themselves when they had a multitude of alien species who had firsthand experience? Though judging by the somber tone and the look on Kaidan's face, that decision clearly hadn't gone over very well. This story was quite a bit deeper than he was letting on, but Shepard knew better than to push him.

"Dead on," Kaidan said with a nod.  "Turians, actually.  That's why Conatix kept it a secret.  They were afraid of what people back home would think.  Asking the turians for help when we'd just fought a war with them."

Shepard's eyebrows shot upwards in surprise. He wasn't sure what was more shocking – the idea that they had gone to the turians right after the war, or that there were turian biotics, period. In the years he'd travelled, serving with the Alliance and coming into contact with all sorts of aliens, he had yet to see a turian with biotic abilities. He had always just assumed that they didn't exist. "The asari would have been more acceptable than the turians," he finally said, confusion lacing his words. Asari were born with biotic abilities and spent their entire lives honing them. They knew far more about those abilities than any known race in the galaxy, as far as they were aware – so why the hell would the Alliance turn to a minority like the turians?

"Yes, but the company didn't go through the Citadel.  It would have made Earth look weak," Kaidan answered, remembering how important it had been for humanity back then to try to prove that they could hold their own.  In many ways, it still was, but they weren't as desperate to do so.  "So they discreetly hired some turian mercenaries."

The surprised look on Shepard's face came back. Mercenaries? Teaching kids? He didn't see a happy ending for this story. He wasn't going to make any assumptions, however – it was up to Kaidan to share that with him if he deemed it necessary. "Get your knuckles rapped a few times, Lieutenant?"

He realized in retrospect how insensitive he sounded, but he didn't feel the need to outright ask him what had gone wrong. A small part of him hoped that things hadn't been as bad as they suddenly seemed now that he was piecing it together. But judging by the look on Kaidan's face, that hoping wasn't going to get him a positive answer.

"Yeah, you could say that," Kaidan said sadly…  If only things had been that easy.

"Our instructor was a turian by the name of Commander Vyrnnus.  When he introduced himself he liked to say 'I was at the helm of the dreadnought that killed your father,'" he said, doing his best impression of the turian's accent, realizing at the same time that old habits were hard to break.  The kids back then had enjoyed mocking Vyrnnus when they were sure that no one was listening.  That was pretty much the only revenge that they could get on their tormentor; trying to act as if he was some comical fool, instead of the guy that enjoyed putting them through hell on a daily basis, going as far as using thirst and hunger as incentives.  Even to this day, it appeared that doing so brought him an odd sense of comfort.

"I told him my dad wasn't in the war – he'd retired to Vancouver.  My family had an inland home that matured to new beachfront," he explained quietly. "Vyrnnus had it in for me after that.  He cut corners; pushed hard.  I mean, you either came out a Superman, or a wreck.  And a lot of kids snapped," he said, doing his best to keep most of the pain out of his voice. "A few died," he finally added shakily, remembering how lost and scared he'd felt each time that he'd learned about one more of his comrades dying either as a result of an overworked implant, heart failure, or some other type of physical problem arising from the fact that they hadn't had access to the required amount of water and nourishment.  Or then again, from giving in to despair after being cut off from their homes, with no way to call for help.  Seeing death as the only means of escape.

Shepard watched him as he spoke, looking for the telling signs – expression turned downwards, brow knitting, corners of his mouth turning downwards in a subtle frown, fingers clenching into fists against the tabletop. He couldn't imagine how scared he must have been, trapped in a situation like that. Unable to call for help, watching as his friends died and wondering if he was going to be next. He felt his heart going out to him – he had an idea of what that felt like, watching the people around him die and not being able to do anything about it. Sitting on the edge and staring into the abyss, scared and wondering if he'd be the next to tip forwards. "Did he ever face charges for that?" he asked quietly, leaning forward on his elbows and finding himself hoping that there was a happy answer to that question.

Kaidan's expression tensed ever so slightly.  "He got his, yeah.  But like everything else at Jump Zero, it was under the table.  The less said, the better."  And sometimes, he had to wonder if that hadn't been worse…  With Vyrnnus' death, the Turian Hierarchy had insisted that the whole incident be kept a secret; claiming that making it public would only serve to damage human/turian relations, and that sullying one of their own people's reputation following his death would serve no purpose.

As a result, he'd always felt that many of Vyrnnus' surviving victims had lacked something essential to be able to make peace with what had happened to them, and move on.  Without any public acknowledgement from the Alliance for what they had suffered, without open recognition of the crimes that they had been subjected to, many of them had never found any sense of closure.

And even though he'd eventually had come to terms with that, Kaidan had always felt that it had been his fault.  That ultimately, he'd not only had Vyrnnus' blood on his hands, but some of his friends' as well.

He took a deep breath, trying to push those thoughts away.  It was beside the point anyway, and Shepard already had enough problems to deal with.

"The point of all this I guess, is if you cut corners, it's not always obvious who pays for it."

Shepard got the distinct feeling that there was a lot more to this speech than just a history lesson on Jump Zero. "So why are you telling me this?" he asked, pinning Kaidan with a knowing look. It was obvious he wanted to come right out and say something to him, but was trying to do so in a roundabout way – probably as a means of trying to speak his mind without directly antagonizing his Commander.  "Are you saying I'm cutting corners somewhere?"

He kept his voice from sounding accusatory. While no superior really enjoyed being told by their subordinates that they were doing something wrong, he was at least open minded enough to accept all forms of criticism. He hoped that was clear to Kaidan, because the last thing he needed was for his crew to have to beat around the bush to deliver their opinions.

His first instinct was to shake his head no and try to defend himself from ever having thought something like that, but Kaidan quickly realized that Shepard didn't appear to be insulted, or even on the defensive.  He was only trying to understand, and he couldn't help but think that he probably wasn't making much sense right now.

"I'm saying…" he said, pausing to choose his words carefully, "…it's probably inevitable that we'll have to.  And when that happens, I want to help you."  If Shepard was ever forced to make some choices that ended up costing him more than it should, he didn't want him to have to carry the burden of those decisions on his own.  Not if there was anything that he could have done to protect or support him.

"When someone important to you is on a ledge, you help them," he added, eyes soft, and looking back at Shepard meaningfully.  "Try to keep them from making mistakes..." …and give them something solid to hold on to and steady themselves, or at the very least get a safety net ready to catch them if they should fall.

Shepard stared at him for a moment, expression indiscernible. "Important, huh?" he managed to ask, lips quirking into a somewhat awkward smirk. He tried to keep his tone lighthearted and teasing, but it was difficult when he suddenly had a lump caught in his throat.

He felt weird. Like someone had reached inside of him and grabbed his stomach and given it a good twist. He didn't know why; he just knew that it felt uncomfortable but not entirely unpleasant. And the look on Kaidan's face, that gentle understanding in his eyes – he knew he wasn't just saying it for the sake of saying it. He meant it. And Shepard didn't know what to think about that.

"I care about you, Shepard," Kaidan admitted sincerely, somewhat surprised to hear himself say it.  The words had been out of his mouth before he could think about whether or not it was an appropriate thing to tell his superior officer.  But it was true; he did care about him.  A lot.  The more they got to know each other, the more Kaidan felt his appreciation and respect for the other man grow.  Shepard made him feel safe and accepted, and he was grateful for it.  So, in hindsight, there probably wasn't much harm in telling him that his friendship was important to him, and that he had his back.

"The mission's already pretty tough and likely to get worse.  I'd like to make things easier, if I can," he added, trying to let him know that he could always count on him.  "Just… think about what I said."

"I will. And… thank you, Kaidan. I appreciate how open you've been with me," Shepard said with a slight smile, still fighting with the awkward feeling settling in the pit of his gut. This was perfectly normal, right? He'd always tried to make a habit of becoming at least somewhat familiar with his crew, but… this was the first time someone had come out and told him he was important to them. A small part of him wanted to feel giddy, like a little kid who had just been told that he had a best friend. He wasn't used to that feeling.

But then the reality would crash down on his shoulders and he'd remember the setting, remember who he was and what they were up against – and the inevitability that friendship in the military was never guaranteed to be permanent. Every battle was a chance that one – or both – of them wouldn't make it back alive. That was something he had to be ready to accept at all times, regardless of whether or not he considered the men and women following his orders to be his friends or just teammates, business as usual. But that wouldn't stop him from enjoying it while it was still there… even if it made the idea of loss that much more unbearable.

It was a long time before Shepard would even consider the idea of friendship with his subordinates. He'd lost so many teammates on Akuze, many of them as close to him as he felt to Kaidan right then. The downward spiral following the disaster had been painful, dark, never-ending – and a part of him realized that if he hadn't been so close to those men and women, maybe he could have walked away unscathed. Moved on, gotten past the trauma and the fear and the loss.

He'd isolated himself after that, keeping a very bold line between teamwork and friendship. It had reached the point that every crew he'd served with was scared of him, scared away by the walls he'd built up to keep from ever having to feel that kind of loss again. And it had worked, for a while. They'd called him a hard ass, a stoic leader with a no-nonsense attitude, refusing to take crap from anyone – enemies and allies alike. Unapproachable. Unyielding.

But there was no camaraderie. No trust. They shared the same ship name but that was as far as it went. They may as well have been loose associations of mercenaries and thieves, decked in Alliance blue.

It was a slow transition, trying to regain that open attitude he'd used to hold, before Akuze had happened. There were several awkward hit and misses, subordinates who viewed his attempts to get to know them as a means of trapping them into saying or doing something incriminating. So the tables had flipped from Shepard pushing everyone away, to him being the one being pushed – and that had been a difficult hurdle to jump over. But now that he was on the Normandy, getting to know these people, where they came from, what made them tick… he didn't regret making that decision. Especially now that he was sitting here, across from a man who'd just told him he was important. Not as the symbol the Alliance had turned him into, or as a leader and a superior officer, or even as a fellow soldier. As a friend. An equal.

And… he liked that feeling.

They sat in silence for a few moments longer, before Shepard finally moved, pushing back his chair and lifting into a stand with a grunt. "I'm going to try to get some rest before we make the drop for the next mission.  Wouldn't hurt for you to do the same; I want to see you in the armory at 0800," he said, tone official despite the hint of a smile creeping at the corner of his mouth.

He gave Kaidan an informal goodnight salute, two fingers to his temple, before walking out of the mess and disappearing into his cabin.