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commander-krios · 4 months

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A Safe Place

Fandom: Mass Effect Pairing: Female Shepard & Jeff "Joker" Moreau Rating: Teen Summary: Jeff Moreau is her best friend, her safe place in a galaxy full of war. And he'll always be there to catch her. Words: 2481 Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Post-Akuze, Mild Gore, Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon Disabled Character, Scars, Healing/Recovering Injury, Survivor's Guilt

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September 2177, Tiptree, St. Luke System, Llewyn Nebula

As Aurora Shepard pulled the shirt over her head, her eyes were drawn to the scars trailing down her back. Red puckered scar tissue several shades darker than her skin tone twisted in a gruesome design across her back. Thresher maw acid burned into tissue, muscle. Searing pain that made her claw at her skin. The accompanying sting when she rolled in the sandy dirt in an attempt to rid herself of the acid.

Shaking the memories from her mind, she braced her hands against the sink and watched the water swirl in the bowl. It’d only been a few weeks since Akuze, since fifty marines died in a sandy mass grave, and it still haunted her at every turn.

The sight of a suspiciously flat patch of ground. The howl of the wind. The tremble of the earth beneath her feet.

She’d never be rid of the desperate fear, of the regret she felt every time she glimpsed her reflection, knowing that there were fifty men and women who’d never have the chance again.

Why was she spared the same gruesome fate?

When Shepard glanced in the mirror, a blank expression stared back. Dull yellow light only deepened the dark circles under her eyes, the bruises on her chin. She may have survived the maw on Akuze, but there were far worse scars she carried. She could still hear Toombs’ screams as the maw pulled him beneath the sand, fingers bloody as he tried to pull himself out. Seeing his terror, hearing her name on his lips as the sand choked him-

Shuddering, she turned away from her reflection, letting the memories fade into nothing but wisps. She’d promised Anderson not to dwell on them, fearing that she might lose herself in the past and neglect the present. She tried to heed the advice, but the dark recesses of her mind called out, tempting her back into swallowing despair.

Tonight, there’d be no sleep.

So instead, she walked.

Tiptree was never quiet.

Aurora supposed the colony was comforting in its own way: the bugs chirping in the fields, the rustling of leaves in the wind, the cry of a wild animal in the distance. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. She’d never had the chance to enjoy the stillness of a summer night, not when the majority of her life was spent on space stations and starships. Not when she was shuttled between missions, a helmet on her head and a commander in her ear.

She’d never seen the stars planetside before. To her surprise, they looked the same from a viewport, but that didn’t make them any less beautiful. Bright, burning pinpoints of light she would never tire staring at.

Shepard shivered, the summer wind blowing through her thin shirt. She wrapped her arms around herself, her fingers catching the edge of her raw scars and she flinched, nearly biting her tongue as the pain seared her nerves. She’d been shot, stabbed, burned before in different situations with an array of different weapons. They all hurt like hell, but the pain easily passed with some pills and medigel. Sometimes, she would need minor surgery to remove shrapnel, but the medical technology was the best it'd ever been. Most times it didn’t scar.

But thresher maws weren’t bullets or thermal burns.

She’d have those scars for the rest of her life.

The porch swing was cool against her skin as she sat, goosebumps rising along her arms and legs. She didn’t rub them away, fearing more pain if she nudged her scars. Instead, she rested her elbows on her knees, her face settling in her hands as she fought the urge to cry.

Jeff was so kind. After she’d woken up on Arcturus Station, he was there by her hospital bed, willing to be the one to help her through the pain and trauma.

I owe you, he’d said. For all the times you’ve helped me.

Aurora had wanted to argue with him, but she’d been in agony and beyond exhausted, afraid to sleep alone with no protection against the shadows that lurked around every corner. He’d barely left her side since the Alliance had rescued her, the least she could do was give him the opportunity to feel useful. If it meant something to him, then it did to her as well.

In the end, it didn’t change the fact that sleep still eluded her, the terror that clung to her since Akuze refused to release its claws and let her rest.

There’d been nowhere for her stay while she recovered. Hannah Shepard had long ago sold their apartment on Arcturus, the majority of her time spent aboard spaceships working. Daniel hadn’t returned to the space station since Elysium, preferring the company of his boyfriend and their small apartment in Vancouver. And Aurora…well, she hadn’t called anywhere home for some time.

Mr. Moreau had offered to take her in, assuring her that she could rest in the quiet comfort of Tiptree, that he would make sure no one came knocking. His wife was a doctor if she was concerned about being a burden which was a preposterous thought to begin with.

Then there was Jeff, who didn’t even have to do much to convince her to come stay in his childhood home with his rambunctious kid sister.

Now she was sitting outside of their home in the dark, the rest of the house asleep, while she dealt with the nightmares she saw whether she closed her eyes or not. She didn’t know how long a human could go without sleep, but she figured now was as good a time as any to find out.

Rubbing her eyes, she tried to imagine something else, anything to distract her, but the only thing that came to mind was the friend who wouldn’t give up on her, no matter what happened.

Jeff Moreau was the only person who didn’t care that her mother was Hannah Shepard, or that Admiral Steven Hackett was her stepfather, or that she was a biotic. He saw her for who she was, not what she was, and the more she thought about it, thought about him, the more she realized that she was just a scared girl who relied on those that were so much better than her.

You don’t deserve him, not as a friend, and certainly not as something more.

She roughly wiped a stray tear from her cheek and glanced up at the night sky once more, her fingers drifting to the crystal star dangling from the chain on her neck. It was nights like this when she’d think of her father, of when the two of them would stare out the enormous viewing windows on Arcturus and he’d tell her which solar system each pinprick of light came from. He’d visited some of them once, a long time before she and her brother were born.

She remembered being afraid that he regretted his choice, to stay on the space station with her and Daniel, to relegate his research to a lab and not be out among the stars like their mother was. But he didn’t.

“You and Daniel are my greatest triumphs and most beloved treasures.”

Aurora wondered if he still felt the same. If, wherever he was, he looked at her accomplishments and was proud.

Someone should be proud of her, at least.

The creak of wood planks alerted her that she was no longer alone and she tensed, ready to fight if need be. The glow of the porch light illuminated Jeff in the dark as he leaned on his crutches, his hair a mess of ginger strands, shadows hiding his face but she knew, as she gazed at him in the dim light, that he couldn’t sleep either. She only hoped it wasn’t because of her.

Her heart pounded a painful beat in her chest when he silently sat beside her on the bench, a baggy hoodie keeping him warm in the chilly night. His hands were tucked into the pockets, his gaze on the sky above, the stars a sight to behold on solid ground. Silence stretched between them, comfortable and familiar, and they slipped into it with open arms, neither needing words to feel the connection between them.

“You’re quiet.” He said eventually, breaking through the quiet before it turned awkward. His eyes were hidden from view when she glanced at him, ignoring the painful pull of her scars. “Something on your mind?”

So much. But there was too much pain to share at this point. Besides the fact that she didn’t know where to start, unburdening her worries would only add to the issues he had. With the smallest of grins on her face, something that was impossible not to have around him, she glanced sideways at him. “That’s what my therapist is for.”

He rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, it’s the ‘best one in the Alliance’.”

“Oh, so you’ve met her too?” Aurora sighed, the anxiety untangling its vines slightly from around her lungs. She could breathe a little easier in Jeff’s presence.

“Alliance mandated therapy sessions after my run in with Nate Doyle all those years ago. That was fun.”

There was no missing the sarcasm.

He bumped her good arm with his shoulder, soft enough that she barely moved but the touch was welcome, comforting… she didn’t realize how much she missed their easy comradery. “Come on. Spilling your guts to me won’t result in being discharged from the Navy.”

“I’m a Marine, Jeff.”

“Hey, it’s all run by the same assholes. Just humor me. You wouldn’t believe the amount of people aboard the SSV Benjamin Davis that have no sense of humor… it’s an epidemic, Aurora.”

“My mother commands that ship.” She said with a laugh. The sound was almost foreign to her ears, but the smile stayed.

He grinned at her in triumph. “I know.”

Rolling her eyes, she bumped him back, a bark of a laugh escaping her. It felt good to laugh, so good in fact that she felt guilty for doing so when there were fifty marines who couldn’t do the same anymore. Not when they were sinking into the sands of Akuze, nothing but putrid damaged bodies, nothing left worth recovering-

“Hey.”

Blinking back tears, Aurora realized Jeff was watching her, those green eyes she sought comfort in so many times studying every twitch of her eyes, every wrinkle in her brow, every gasp of breath between her lips.

“I’m here, Rori. You don’t have to do this alone.” He covered her shaking hands with one of his one, pressing down to help still the tremors. “We’re a team, remember?”

“Jeff, I-” She hastily wiped a tear before it could fall, hating how easy it was for her to hide behind the Shepard persona. The very one that her mother so diligently helped craft. Because if Hannah Shepard was anything, it was a woman who didn’t abide weakness in her children.

Life on Tiptree was different from life on Arcturus. It was peaceful, far from the politics of the Citadel or the Alliance military. Far from the horrors of war or death. It was tempting to consider the possibility of disappearing here. After everything with Elysium and then Akuze, she wondered if she’d get away with it… disappearing.

She’d never do it, she knew that. Not when so much of her young life, service to the Systems Alliance had been drilled into her. Not when her father had sacrificed so much to give her a life worth living.

“I’m sorry.”

The words slipped out before she even realized she’d said them. She flinched at how weak her voice sounded, how weak she was, even after years in the military. If her mother could see her now.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

But it was. She didn’t know how he didn’t see that. After everything he knew of her, Jeff still saw the best parts.

“Don’t argue with me. Just look up.” Jeff whispered, pointing to some distant thing in the sky. When her eyes followed his finger, she saw the tail end of a comet as it completed its arc. “Shut up and make a wish.”

She considered her options, knowing what her instincts were screaming at her to say. To wish happiness for the galaxy, for peace or some other platitude that Jeff would immediately wave away with a scoff and frown. He wasn’t looking for a serious answer. He was providing her with a distraction. One she desperately needed like a lifeline.

Tapping her chin with a finger, she watched as a smile curled his lips. Good, he was hooked already. “A wish isn’t something to just blurt out into the dark like this, Jeff. It needs to be considered carefully, mulled over.”

“God, you love making games boring, don’t you?”

“Take that back right now.”

“What are you going to do? It’s not like you can tickle me without breaking at least one of my bones.” He lifted his hands, wiggling his fingers mockingly. “And your fancy superpowers are off limits, freak.”

A surprised laugh escaped her and she found that, this time, it didn’t hurt so much. “Ouch. Not holding back tonight?”

“Make a wish, Shepard.”

Sighing, she glanced up at the sky again, realizing that this was what home was. Not the place, not really. But the people she carried with her. In her thoughts and in her heart. Her father: who was now resting after a lifetime of fighting. Her twin: who was out there fighting the same battles she was. And Jeff Moreau, her best friend… the first person she could count on when the shit hit the fan.

“I wish… to have more nights like this.”

With you.

She couldn’t say it, not when it was mushy and Jeff didn’t do the touchy feely emotional shit. But she knew nothing would be the same without her best friend.

“Well, we can but you need to promise me one thing.”

She glanced at him, eyebrow raised curiously, knowing that whatever came out of his mouth was most likely going to be insulting. It wouldn’t be Jeff if it wasn’t. “What?”

“You need to stop trying to get yourself killed, Rori. I’m too young and beautiful for grey hair.”

She laughed, resisting the urge to shove him. He was terrible, but he made her feel normal, accepted, and alive. It was selfish, but she needed him to keep going, however long that was. “That’s a tall order, Moreau. Didn’t you say you wanted to fly my future ship? How are you going to keep your luscious hair doing that?”

“With me at your back, you can’t lose.”

Funnily enough, she trusted him so much that she believed him.

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