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greenstickered2015-03-13 11:21 pm
camalyng) wrote in greenstickered2015-03-13 11:21 pm
Entry tags:
Mass Effect: Though they sink through the sea
Title: Though they sink through the sea
What: Mass Effect fanfiction - short story
Words: ~800
Rating: PG (death)
Summary: It's like looking at herself when she'd first joined the Normandy, thinking the crew would resent her for filling a dead man's boots. Ashley excuses herself to the bar, and sets a drink in front of Lieutenant Victus once she gets back.
Notes: Ashley saved on Virmire and recruited after Citadel II; Tuchanka: Turian Platoon done after this. If you talk to her on the Normandy after Tuchanka: Turian Platoon, she asks how the Primarch's son is doing and talks about her own experiences with losing men. Title is from "And Death Shall Have No Dominion" by Dylan Thomas.
"Excuse me, Miss..."
"Lieutenant Commander Williams," Ashley corrects reflexively, because she has earned that title, and probably not just because Udina wanted a Spectre on his side. But that two-toned voice sounds familiar, and she relaxes when she looks up and sees - "Lieutenant Victus. Nice to see you again."
"May I?" She nods, and he takes the seat opposite her, making himself comfortable. "Sorry, Lieutenant Commander. We didn't exactly have time for introductions on Tuchanka."
"Yeah. Hell, I didn't think I'd see you here, what with the bomb."
"We did some recon, and it looks like Cerberus is waiting for more of the krogan clans to arrive before detonating the bomb. So I thought my men deserved some shore leave." Victus gestures to a group of turians - after a moment of squinting in Purgatory's low light, she recognizes them as the Ninth Platoon - trailing another group out the door. "I'm giving them six hours before we head back."
That's the shortest shore leave she's ever heard of. "And they're leaving a bar?"
"Apparently the Seventh Fleet's received the Banner of the First Regiment."
She glances over to where Shepard's talking to an asari military trainer about some texts recently recovered from the Library of Asha, and she smiles as she looks back at him. "I think I can guess where that came from. But why aren't you going with them?"
His gaze wanders down to the table. "I didn't think they'd appreciate my presence."
It's like looking at herself when she'd first joined the Normandy, thinking the crew would resent her for filling a dead man's boots. Ashley excuses herself to the bar, and sets a drink in front of him once she gets back. He raises an eyebrow.
"Don't worry, it's dextro," she says. "The Citadel's probably a third turian."
He studies her curiously for a moment, then starts drinking.
Ashley has a sip of her own drink - liquid courage - before saying, "Bates."
"What?"
"Jenner. Pennyloafer. Donkey. Rasputin," she continues, the first time she's said their names out loud in two years. "The men under my direct command when I lost my entire unit a few years ago. There were three more squads besides mine. Thirty-one of us in the 212 all together."
Ashley knows she's gotten rusty at reading turian facial expressions because the flicker of his mandibles is beyond her. "Spirits. I'm sorry."
"I know that's fewer than the men you lost, but it's not about the numbers. One always feels like too many."
"Bellamus," says Victus, and she raises an eyebrow. "The first of my platoon to die on this mission. It felt like too many."
"I'm sorry," she says. "It never gets easier. The 212 was just the start, for me. I've lost a lot of men in the last few years, and every time it feels like my fault."
He stares at her, and eventually asks, "Why are you telling me this?"
"So you know you're not alone," she says. Victus opens his mouth, but she presses on. "I saw how your men were treating you on Tuchanka, and it's nothing I haven't told myself. I bet it's what you've been telling yourself too. And that's isolating, and that's a dangerous mindset to take into a mission. Especially one as important as defusing this bomb."
His gaze wavers, drops to his drink, but then rises to hers again, and there's a little more resolve in his subharmonics. "Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Williams."
"Ashley," she corrects him, and as his mandibles flare in surprise, she smiles. "For the next six hours, you're not alone: You've got me. And my title's too long to say every time, especially if you're drunk. Sometimes Shepard and I call each other LC. But I want you to call me Ashley."
"Ashley," he agrees, and he raises his glass. She taps her own against it. "Call me Tarquin."
Kaidan died making sure a bomb went off. Tarquin dies making sure another one never would.
Ashley watches the trigger, and Tarquin with it, fall into Tuchanka's depths, and she thinks about the strangest shore leave she's ever had: The two of them had discussed Turian poetry and their military families, poured out drinks for every man they've lost between the two of them, and almost got kicked out of Purgatory for it until Ashley flagrantly abused her Spectre status to stay. Where Shepard spent ten minutes after Virmire to get her seeing sense, she spent six hours and probably too many credits to get Tarquin believing, and considers it money well spent. Besides, after the Citadel guards in the Cerberus coup, she needed it too, if not as badly as Tarquin did.
All she says, though, is that it reminded her of Virmire, and that it's been a long time.
What: Mass Effect fanfiction - short story
Words: ~800
Rating: PG (death)
Summary: It's like looking at herself when she'd first joined the Normandy, thinking the crew would resent her for filling a dead man's boots. Ashley excuses herself to the bar, and sets a drink in front of Lieutenant Victus once she gets back.
Notes: Ashley saved on Virmire and recruited after Citadel II; Tuchanka: Turian Platoon done after this. If you talk to her on the Normandy after Tuchanka: Turian Platoon, she asks how the Primarch's son is doing and talks about her own experiences with losing men. Title is from "And Death Shall Have No Dominion" by Dylan Thomas.
"Excuse me, Miss..."
"Lieutenant Commander Williams," Ashley corrects reflexively, because she has earned that title, and probably not just because Udina wanted a Spectre on his side. But that two-toned voice sounds familiar, and she relaxes when she looks up and sees - "Lieutenant Victus. Nice to see you again."
"May I?" She nods, and he takes the seat opposite her, making himself comfortable. "Sorry, Lieutenant Commander. We didn't exactly have time for introductions on Tuchanka."
"Yeah. Hell, I didn't think I'd see you here, what with the bomb."
"We did some recon, and it looks like Cerberus is waiting for more of the krogan clans to arrive before detonating the bomb. So I thought my men deserved some shore leave." Victus gestures to a group of turians - after a moment of squinting in Purgatory's low light, she recognizes them as the Ninth Platoon - trailing another group out the door. "I'm giving them six hours before we head back."
That's the shortest shore leave she's ever heard of. "And they're leaving a bar?"
"Apparently the Seventh Fleet's received the Banner of the First Regiment."
She glances over to where Shepard's talking to an asari military trainer about some texts recently recovered from the Library of Asha, and she smiles as she looks back at him. "I think I can guess where that came from. But why aren't you going with them?"
His gaze wanders down to the table. "I didn't think they'd appreciate my presence."
It's like looking at herself when she'd first joined the Normandy, thinking the crew would resent her for filling a dead man's boots. Ashley excuses herself to the bar, and sets a drink in front of him once she gets back. He raises an eyebrow.
"Don't worry, it's dextro," she says. "The Citadel's probably a third turian."
He studies her curiously for a moment, then starts drinking.
Ashley has a sip of her own drink - liquid courage - before saying, "Bates."
"What?"
"Jenner. Pennyloafer. Donkey. Rasputin," she continues, the first time she's said their names out loud in two years. "The men under my direct command when I lost my entire unit a few years ago. There were three more squads besides mine. Thirty-one of us in the 212 all together."
Ashley knows she's gotten rusty at reading turian facial expressions because the flicker of his mandibles is beyond her. "Spirits. I'm sorry."
"I know that's fewer than the men you lost, but it's not about the numbers. One always feels like too many."
"Bellamus," says Victus, and she raises an eyebrow. "The first of my platoon to die on this mission. It felt like too many."
"I'm sorry," she says. "It never gets easier. The 212 was just the start, for me. I've lost a lot of men in the last few years, and every time it feels like my fault."
He stares at her, and eventually asks, "Why are you telling me this?"
"So you know you're not alone," she says. Victus opens his mouth, but she presses on. "I saw how your men were treating you on Tuchanka, and it's nothing I haven't told myself. I bet it's what you've been telling yourself too. And that's isolating, and that's a dangerous mindset to take into a mission. Especially one as important as defusing this bomb."
His gaze wavers, drops to his drink, but then rises to hers again, and there's a little more resolve in his subharmonics. "Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Williams."
"Ashley," she corrects him, and as his mandibles flare in surprise, she smiles. "For the next six hours, you're not alone: You've got me. And my title's too long to say every time, especially if you're drunk. Sometimes Shepard and I call each other LC. But I want you to call me Ashley."
"Ashley," he agrees, and he raises his glass. She taps her own against it. "Call me Tarquin."
Kaidan died making sure a bomb went off. Tarquin dies making sure another one never would.
Ashley watches the trigger, and Tarquin with it, fall into Tuchanka's depths, and she thinks about the strangest shore leave she's ever had: The two of them had discussed Turian poetry and their military families, poured out drinks for every man they've lost between the two of them, and almost got kicked out of Purgatory for it until Ashley flagrantly abused her Spectre status to stay. Where Shepard spent ten minutes after Virmire to get her seeing sense, she spent six hours and probably too many credits to get Tarquin believing, and considers it money well spent. Besides, after the Citadel guards in the Cerberus coup, she needed it too, if not as badly as Tarquin did.
All she says, though, is that it reminded her of Virmire, and that it's been a long time.