#femshack

She’d never liked hospitals. Who did? Lots of judgmental doctors and nurses telling you where to go and what to do and who not to throw a shockwave at. Like sorry, but that fucking Cerberus trooper they had under guard fucking deserved it. Recognized that asshole from Grissom…

Anyway, this time she kept her hands firmly clasped behind her back and patiently ignored everyone who looked at her sideways until she found the door she was searching for.

And there was Zaeed, lying on a bed with his injured foot propped up on a pillow. Every free inch of his room, the wall, the tables, the chairs, was covered in bright flowers. The sight brought a big smile to her lips. It had to be Shepard’s doing.

He lay there, looking out the window and seemingly oblivious to the utter absurdity of his surroundings.

Unable to find a place to sit, Jack settled for the edge of the bed.

“Hey, careful,” he grumbled. He slid his foot, protected inside an enormous cast, as far away from Jack as possible.

She would’ve apologized, but eh...

Instead, Jack nodded in lieu of a greeting as she looked out on the Presidium. Hospitals still sucked, but she had to admit that Huerta Memorial had a pretty sweet view. The window made up one entire side of the room, and the gentle curving arc of the Presidium stretched out before her.

A minute passed. Things got quiet. She’d spoken to Zaeed alone a few times back in the good old suicide mission days. He’d wisely kept his mouth shut that first time she’d come on board – said nothing about her tattoos or what she chose to wear, and never once asked about any of the more prickly bits of her past life (i.e. any of it).

All taken together, it had elevated him to a spot on her ‘only kill if he gets in my way’ list.

When it was just the two of them, they tended to talk about… well, take a guess. It wasn’t horticulture. She frowned, scratching the back of her hand. Today was clearly proving to be a very strange day. “When’s the operation?”

Zaeed grumbled. “Tomorrow morning. Told them it’d better be over by nightfall. Don’t want to miss the match.”

“Really excited to see us lose, huh?”

“You’d better not. I’ve got fifty thousand credits on that match. Who’s replacing me anyway?”

“Some asari chick. Supposed to be famous on Thessia or something, I don’t know.”

“Huh. She any good?”

Jack shrugged. “If she isn’t, Shepard and I will just have to carry the weight ourselves. Nothing we haven’t done before.”

Zaeed grunted. “You’re real goddamn hilarious, you know that?”

(snip)

“Can I ask you something?”

His eyes – well, the good one at least – went wide as if that innocuous question alone had blown his mind.

Still, Jack pressed on. There wasn’t, after all, anyone else she could think to put the question to. “If you asked Shepard out, where would you take her?”

Surprisingly, the answer came without a second’s hesitation. “Easy. ‘This One’s House of Plentiful Amusements. It’s that new Hanar comedy club down on Zakeera Ward.’”

“A comedy club? Really?”  

“Yeah, I figure once I asked her out, she wouldn’t stop laughing for a good three or four hours. Might as well take her someplace appropriate, right?”

She let out a long breath. What was this, Give Sarcastic Advice to Jack Day? Gritting her teeth, she asked, “And what if it was me?”

“Uh…” he visibly swallowed, “No offense, but you’re not my type.”

Fuck you, Zaeed. “No, where would I take her out?”

“Oh.” His brow furrowed. “Don’t know? Someplace with a lot of goddamned explosions, I guess. Or, judging from a year of experience, just follow her around for a day and the explosions will come to you.”

Jack hummed in thought. True enough, she thought.

“You know,” he continued, “these painkillers must be really damned powerful, because I could swear that you’re asking me for relationship advice.”

Ugh. “Forget I said anything.”

Zaeed ignored her. “Everyone’s gone fucking respectable. Kasumi’s working on the Crucible, Garrus is a military advisor, and look at you, I bet you haven’t crashed a space-station into a moon in at least a month.”

Jack rolled her eyes. “No, but I’ve thought about it,” she said with a laugh. As far as the Citadel was concerned it might be an improvement. The trick would be finding a large enough moon.

“And me, I’m sittin’ here with my thumb up my ass.”

“It’s probably too late to be having a mid-life crisis, Zaeed.”

“It’s this goddamned bed,” he said, grunting as he tried to sit up. “Gives a man too much time to think. Damned nurse took away my omni-tool. He said ‘Towers of Hanoi‘ was going to give me an aneurysm.”

“Hmm. I’ll give Kasumi a call, maybe she can hook you up with something.”

He nodded, relieved. “Look,” he said, that good eye fixed on her. “I think you should do whatever keeps the team together. When Shepard puts something together, nothing in galaxy can stop it. Only way I see us winning this fucking war.” He stretched, adding in a yawn for good measure. “Besides, I’m hoping if Shepard lets me stick around long enough she’ll hook me up with a pension plan.”

Yeah, thanks, Zaeed. The sad thing was she could picture Shepard fighting the Alliance to set something like that up. A second suicide mission to rival the first.

“Haven’t had this much fun in years. Blowing shit up and feeling like a hero afterwards? Not used to that. Feels good, you know what I mean?”

Jack sighed. Yeah. It wasn’t the worst feeling in the world.