#shenko tag

Imani paused, frozen with a towel on her arm. She sighed, and closed her eyes. There was talking, and then there was talking. And Imani had been pretty firm on the no talking, ever since they fought in Huerta that day, trading barbs and accusations in a hail of fire like they were in combat, and in the end came to some kind of truce, if an uneasy and awkward one. 

A lot of things changed, since that talk in Huerta. 

“…does Jacob know about this?” Imani asked intently, her back still turned.When she turned at last to glance at him, Kaidan smiled a bit sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “He kinda put me up to it. Said he was tired of watching me mope." 

Imani couldn’t help herself; she laughed, low and soft, and set the towels back on the shelf, turning around completely to lean against the door. Old music came on—really old, a slow and sweet ballad, old Earth soul from bygone times. The sound system was set at a much lower volume upstairs, to not overpower conversations in the lounge area, but Imani still heard the dulcet sounds drifting through the room, and maybe it softened her just a bit. It should have been safe, she thought. 

“Alright, Kaidan. What’s on your mind?” she asked. 

“You,” he answered. 

Imani sighed, shutting her eyes again, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze—or afraid. “Kaidan—" 

“I know, I know,” he said, almost apologetically, and Imani noticed just the slightest slur to his speech; his glass was considerably emptier than it was before. “I know what you said. I know you moved on, I know you’ve got Garrus and Thane. God, I was such an ass, saying the things I did. I’m sorry. I’m trying…so damn hard. But I can’t stop thinking about you, Imani. I can’t. I wish I could take it all back, those things I said. I want to so badly. I want…I miss you, Imani. I just really miss you, is what I’m saying, and I can’t stop missing you no matter how hard I try." 

“You’re drunk, Kaidan,” Imani said softly. 

“Maybe I am,” he laughed a bit, his brown eyes glossy with unshed tears. “Only a little, though. Just enough to make me brave. Or stupid. I can never really tell the difference, you know?" 

Imani smiled in defeat. “Come here,” she said. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. Obedient as ever, he set the empty glass down on the floor, and rose off the bed, crossing the distance between them. 

“Love was never the problem with us,” Imani started, “but what you wanted and needed was something totally different than what I did. Even if I hadn’t—even if Project Lazarus had never been necessary, it wouldn’t have worked. I tried to fit myself in a box for you, because I loved you, and I resented every minute of it.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I thought you were just being fickle, playing the field. You’ve got the galaxy at your feet, Imani. Everybody was in love with you, not just Liara. Garrus and Tali worshiped the ground you walked on. I saw it and it drove me crazy. I was scared, like I couldn’t compete. I didn’t get it until Jacob—I didn’t mean to fall for him, I hardly even trusted him at first, I mean he was Cerberus. But it happened anyway, and it didn’t do anything to erase what I felt for you. And believe me, I wanted it to. I wanted to forget about you, I wanted to move on the way you did..." 

Imani allowed him the time and space to ramble, to lance the wound that had festered inside him for three years, buried beneath grief and guilt by turns. Kaidan carried everything that way, letting it build and build until he was overwhelmed and couldn’t cope; he’d been that way for as long as she’d known him, no matter how much she told him that it was safe to confide in her, that they could talk about anything. No matter how much she told him that his vulnerability didn’t frighten her, or make her think less of him; if anything it had the opposite effect. Like it did then, as he poured his heart out to her, and all she wanted to do was hold him and tell him it would be alright. 

It was late, and he was warm and Imani’s heart wasn’t made of stone; it never had been, not for anyone, and especially not for Kaidan Alenko, no matter how much he drove her crazy sometimes. She gently pulled him closer and reached up, caressing his cheek, stubble rough against her palm, familiar and comforting. 

“I haven’t moved on the way you think I did,” Imani whispered. “I’ve missed you too. It’s killing me." 

Kaidan blinked a little, startled at first as much by her touch as by her confession, his lips parted, trembling softly. “Imani…?" 

“You think this hasn’t been hard on me too?” Imani asked, her voice trembling. His breath smelled like rum and cola, sweet and spicy, and even that was enough to make her want to cry; it made her think of another time the Normandy was down for repairs, right after the Battle of the Citadel, and they had a brief furlough on Arcturus. He took her to her favorite hole in the wall bar for a little dancing. His breath smelled the same then, and she remembered the way he held her close to him, and they kissed; the first time they’d done it in public, not giving a damn about regs, and no one especially cared, not the heroes of the Citadel. He was warm then, too, the way he was now. “You think I could just forget about you?” she asked, swallowing down the sudden lump in her throat. 

“But Garrus, and Thane…” Kaidan countered. “You’re crazy about them." 

“…yes, and Miranda, and Tali. I’m crazy about all of them,” Imani said. “But that’s got nothing to do with how I feel about you. When are you going to get that through your thick skull? How many times do I have to tell you that love isn’t a zero sum game to me and never has been, or that I wasn’t raised to see it that way. None of them can replace you, and that’s not why I’m with any of them. I’m not trying to replace you, Kaidan. I love you. I never stopped. That’s why I was so angry with you. It’s why you hurt me so badly when you were in the hospital." 

Kaidan leaned in closer, his elbows propped on the closet door over her head, and Imani’s breath hitched involuntarily at the sudden closeness. “Then I’m not just fooling myself, am I? That I’ve got a chance in hell of making things right? That we’ve got a chance?” he asked, his eyes narrowed in undisguised yearning. 

“Kaidan, it can’t be the same,” Imani said firmly. “I can’t be what you wanted me to be. That’s not who I am. I’m poly, I love with everything I am, and that’s not ever going to change. There’s not going to be any more ultimatums. I can make a lot of compromises, but I can’t compromise how I love—or who I love. Not even for you." 

“I wouldn’t ask it again,” Kaidan said, his breath hot and heavy, his voice barely more than a husky whisper. “Not ever. I want you. The woman with room enough in her heart for the whole damn galaxy, if there's still room in there for a screwed up Canadian?" 

"If only you were my counsel. I'd get acquitted for sure," she deadpanned, taking a sip of coffee. Then she stared up at the ceiling; it was as cold, dull, and grey as the Vancouver sky outside. "Just the once, to answer your question. Did boot camp in Brazil and later on I did ICT there, at the Villa. Biotics were fast tracked and in high demand in those days, so I haven't been back since I was shipped off to Arcturus."

"It must be pretty weird coming back like this," Vega said, his brow furrowed in a mild expression of sympathy.

"Yeah," Imani mumbled quietly. "Pretty weird."

Pretty weird that the woman held up as humanity's greatest champion had hardly set foot on humanity's homeworld. In a life replete with ironies, it still managed to stand out as one of the stranger ones. Child of the colonies, savior of the Citadel--and Earth had always remained distant to her. Imani admittedly hadn't thought about the strangeness of it much until now. Now, when there was all the time in the galaxy to think--and really none at all.

***

Staring into a cup of coffee: black, standard Alliance issue--not nearly as rich as the kind paid for by the Illusive Man, that's for sure--Imani couldn't get the images out of her mind. Fire. Chaos. So much death. She hadn't seen that much, not since...

"Credit for your thoughts, Shepard?"

She looked up, and Kaidan was standing there at the entrance to the lounge, and not for the first time it struck her as being a little strange seeing him on the Normandy again. Comforting, but strange.

"Bad memories, is all. I'll be fine."

Kaidan took the seat across from her. Gods, how he'd aged, Imani thought. His temples were streaked with silver, and there were fine lines around his narrow eyes that she hadn't noticed before. "You sure about that? 'Cause I remember that look," he said.

Imani sighed, resting her elbows on the table. "It's just...I've never really had a connection to Earth. It was always just vids on TV and the extranet, Dad's paintings, the old songs I grew up with. I'm a colony kid, Kaidan. Earth's where my parents came from, not me. It's just always been this distant symbol to me, an ideal to fight for."

"Until now."

Imani clamped her eyes shut, her mind haunted by memories of a single family, a little girl with afropuffs climbing into an evacuation transport packed with other civilians. It seemed like a lifetime ago--another life ago--but fifteen years before that, there was Mindoir, and she was that child climbing into a shuttle. There was fear, and there were shadows, and grief. But this time...Earth, it was a million upon million Mindoirs, and that transport never had a chance. Alliance colors blown to fire, smoke, and ash. And maybe the unshakeable Commander Shepard was beginning to crack a little.

"It's real, Kaidan. It's real and it's not going to stop until I put an end to it," Imani said. "For everyone. For that kid."

Kaidan reached out to her, and for the first time it seemed like that wall of awkward silence that had built up between them was starting to crumble. Maybe there was something of the old friendship sparking again. "Imani. You don't have to do this alone--"

"I know. I don't plan on it."