Nicholas D. Wolfwood (wolfwood) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-07-15 18:05:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !complete, commander tyra shepard, nicholas d. wolfwood |
WHO: Shepard and Wolfwood
WHAT: Catching up
WHEN: 7/13
WHERE: A bar in Mission Viejo
RATING/WARNINGS: PG13, practical toplessness and a lot of language
STATUS: Complete
Wolfwood was wearing civvies for the first time in almost two years, and it felt weird. He kept wanting to jerk the collar away from his neck - or, conversely, he’d bumped into a few things because he didn’t have to wear any goddamn Kevlar to walk around anymore. Still, he kept telling himself, some weird collars were a small price to pay to be able to sleep in a real bed, in a town that wasn’t under constant attack from the enemy. And now he got to have beer with a clear conscience.
He’d gotten a hold of Major Shepard (still hard to think of her as a Lieutenant Colonel; he’d mostly just called her ma’am) and arranged to meet up in a little bar not far from his new place. As he walked in, he looked around for her, not sure what to expect. Her little picture thing on the network had had purple hair; was that her now? Or just something in a drawing?
Civies were definitely something that took getting used to. Shepard wasn't entirely used to it, but she at least carried a gun. And after the past year, it was a good thing she did. God knew what was going to come out of the shadows next. And poor Wolfwood had no idea what he was in for.
She drove. Badly, parking in front of the bar and dropping down from her car. She wore jeans, a loose shirt, and her hair was indeed purple, and pulled back into a pony tail.
He saw her walk in and rose - old habits died hard - waving. “Major? Er - dammit. Colonel?” Her hair was purple after all, and he couldn’t help but be amused. Typical Shepard. She’d never been the most orthodox commanding officer. “Over here, ma’am.”
"Just Shepard will work. Or Commander, but that's a long story and we'll need the drinks to get to it." She grinned and held out her hand to shake his. "Long time no see."
“Wolfwood’s fine, then, if you prefer.” He still saluted her, just casually. “Think it was 2002 or so? That one operation.” That would forever remain nameless. “I really owe you a thank you; it was that op that got me recommended for the green to gold.” The Green-to-Gold program was the program where active duty soldiers could get a 2-year degree and a commission at the same time. “2nd Lieutenant’s pay is a hell of a lot better than a Master Sergeant’s.”
"There are people who still refuse to get into a car when I'm driving," she replied, laughing. "I'm glad it worked out for you. It was a hell of a trip." They couldn't talk openly about it, but the generalizations were easy enough to get away with.
“I’m glad I came away with my ass in one piece.” Wolfwood chuckled gruffly. “Let alone as an officer. I feel lucky.” He had the same nightmares as a lot of soldiers, but no long-lasting wounds, no PTSD. He’d escaped so far. “When did you get out?”
“Not lucky. Just did a damn good job.” She’d known plenty of people with PTSD. She avoided a lot of it - most of her night terrors came with her dreams. “About 18 months ago. February of last year.”
There wasn’t a way to broach this politely, but he was curious. “You said they were going to drum you out. Is that for real?” He could not imagine what this woman would have done. She was a damn good CO, despite her unorthodox tendencies, and in the combat zone, unorthodox tendencies sometimes were allowed to slide.
"They gave me a deal over an honorable discharge, basically," she replied, ordering a beer and getting comfy. "Over my sexuality. I didn't want to deal with that, and I didn't know how long the courts were going to take, so I took the deal."
He handed the bartender a twenty to start with, getting his own beer and shaking his head. “That’s just crap.” Wolfwood shook his head. “Losing good men and women over private crap like that.” He’d known a couple of gays in his company, and as far as he was concerned, they could stare all they wanted, not that any of them would probably ever find him attractive. “They wonder why discipline is going to hell.”
"It's better now. Lots better, but I missed that boat. I don't really mind. Still get a lot of excitement and the only person I answer to is a man I respect." Shepard grinned.
“Well, that’s something.” Wolfwood would miss the service if he left, he’d always known that.
"It's kind of complicated. I'm discharged, but an old friend has me on call if he ever needs something. And I've got a bit of a crew of my own." She felt like she could trust Wolfwood.
“Oh, yeah?” Wolfwood raised an eyebrow. “What kind of crew? You guys doing bounty hunting or something now?” Call him curious. He did have to find work for while he was on leave.
"Could say that." They were her team in her dreams, and while they had their own thing and couldn't answer for the things she did for Anderson, they were still her crew and her family.
And god she wished Anderson dreamed.
“Well, we all need a good crew.” Wolfwood shrugged, taking a pull of his beer. “I kinda miss my gunnery boys, tell you the truth.” They were like his sons. And he wasn’t even old enough to be their father.
Shepard was reminded of her unit in the Marines. She missed them sometimes too. It was strange. She didn't compare them to the people on the Normandy, but they were all gone now. They had a place that they belonged. Sometimes she missed them. "I think I've found the best. But we all say that."
“Yeah, we do.” Wolfwood managed a smile. “I’m glad you found something, ma’am. Getting drummed out like that is some kind of bullshit, so it’s good revenge to have a nice life afterward. Not sure I could do it.”
“You’re stronger than you think, Wolfwood. You’d do just fine. And if you need some help in adjusting to the civvie life, I can help.” She picked up her beer and took a swig. “Depends on what you want to do.”
“Don’t really know. I’ll wind up deployed again in nine months or whatever, so it’d have to be mostly temporary.” There wasn’t any question of his leaving the service, at least not right now. He was too used to it, too familiar with its rituals.
She nodded. "I can set you up with a man named Wrex if you want to do some community service and get paid for it. Work with youths, mostly. Kids who would be in jail without a second chance. You remember Wrex, right? Big guy, kind of gruff. Enjoyed me driving."
If he thought back, he did remember. “I think so. He used to sit in front and hold the oh-shit bar?” Wolfwood smiled a little. “Might work out. I do okay with kids.” He’d been an introspective kid himself, especially after the break-in at his house, so he thought he knew what they went through most of the time.
She nodded. "Some other vets work there too, so it's not like we're alone in that. Don't know if you ever met Scott Summers."
“No, can’t say so. Army?” Wolfwood finished his beer, catching the bartender’s eye and motioning for one more.
"Yeah, Army. Stick in the ass type. Met him a few times during leave but didn't speak much until we met again at the Ranch. Good man, though." The hard part to explain was the eyes.
Heh. “Met a few like that. They didn’t like me much; I hope that won’t be a problem.” Wolfwood chuckled a little. Men who had sticks in their ass weren’t often useful on the ground, at least not where he’d been stationed. There came a point where you had to say ‘fuck the book’ when you had half your men screaming and dying.
“It’s been sufficiently removed, but you should see his wife.” Shepard grinned. “I’m sure she had something to do with it.”
He couldn’t help smirking a little. “The love of a good woman will change you.” Hell, Shepard knew that better than he did, probably. He’d never been married, only had a couple serious relationships. The service was his mistress, was his usual line.
“You have an idea. Or maybe you will.” Shepard liked to shove people at other people, but she usually knew when it was necessary and when to leave well enough alone. “Eventually.”
“I know working girls love me because I tip well.” It was a joke, yet not. He did his best to treat them well, including tipping well; no woman would ever have cause to complain about him if Wolfwood could help it. “Want another beer, ma’am?”
Shepard couldn’t say that she hadn’t been with a working girl. It was sometimes the safest option, when you were hiding who’s pants you liked to get into. “Please.”
Wolfwood went and collected another beer for Shepard, as well as a basket of pretzels, just to snack on. “You’ll laugh, but that was my first thought when I landed ... the poor women who were just trying to make a living when whatever went down went down.”
“Yeah...” Shepard stole a pretzel and tossed it into her mouth to chew on while she thought. “Just a lot of craziness all around.”
“But you’re okay?” Wolfwood had to ask. She looked quiet, lost in thought. “You got a lady? A house? All the stuff we dream about in foxholes?”
“Yeah... All the stuff. Even some stuff we didn’t dream about. And I can have stuff I never thought I’d get.” Like children, and she wouldn’t even have to adopt. Though that was a consideration after Vegas. She’d talk to Liara bout that. “It’s really strange. Have you had time to really read on the net?”
“Not much, no. Went home after that first post and slept for fourteen hours. I’m still a little fucked up, but still.” Wolfwood cocked his head. “Why?”
“Remember all that weird shit we used to see in the military? Strange chatter, some conspiracy stuff? What if I told you that there are things going on in this county that completely defy explanation?”
Wolfwood blinked. “With all due respect, ma’am, I’d ask if I could get some of whatever weed you’ve got.” Military conspiracy theories were the weirdest ones - talking about aliens and crap like magic powers. When they weren’t political, which just pissed him off.
Shepard laughed. “I don’t really blame you.” She rolled up her sleeve, the N7 tattoo prominently displayed on her arm. “You ever see an insignia like this?” And if one were looking closely enough, Shepard still had the faintest of scars criss-crossing her face.
“Can’t say I have.” Wolfwood wondered if it was black ops related. He’d never been introduced into that fraternity, not really, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be.
“Neither had I until I dreamed about it. Thing is, I didn’t get this tattoo. I haven’t been in a tattoo parlor since I was overseas. I know it sounds crazy. Have you ever known me to be crazy?” She rolled her sleeve down. “There are other things I could show you. Just not in public.”
“You dreamed about it?” Part of him wondered idly where her other tattoo was, but best not to ask. “I’ve known you to be mildly crazy, ma’am, but not that bad. What other things do you mean? You don’t have to show ... you can tell.” He wouldn’t mind terribly if she showed, but talk about a quick way to get smacked.
“I have scars, and … “ She hesitated. “It would probably be better to show. A couple of things, actually. I’ve got one in the hummer, but the rest is on my back.” The implants, or rather the scars left over from them. But the Omnitool...that she didn’t have to take her shirt off for.
“On your back?” Wolfwood echoed. “Lead on, if you feel you need to show me.”
She knocked back her beer, and then got up. “Come on. I don’t feel like flashing the entire bar.” She led him outside, stopping to pull something from under her car seat, and then heading into an alley.
Damn, if Wolfwood wasn’t sure she was a confirmed lesbian, he would be pretty happy right now. As it was, he simply left some bills to pay the tab and followed Shepard outside. He was curious about what she was saying, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what it might be.
Once they were out of sight of prying eyes, Shepard wasted no time in shedding her shirt. She didn't have any qualms about exposing herself to him. She was matter of fact about it.
In addition to the N7 tattoo, there was another on her other shoulder, that looked like a delta symbol with a sword and lightning.
She turned to show him her back. Along her spine were what looked like circular incision scars. Four in all, the last on the back of her neck. Those were just the ones that could be seen. There were a lot more implants inside her. She was as much synthetic as human, now.
Wolfwood risked touching one of them, just barely, surprised at the hardness of the skin. It didn’t even feel like skin. “The fuck?” he murmured, mostly to himself. “Shepard, what is this?” It looked like ... well, it looked like something someone might do to be able to claim alien abduction. But this was Shepard, not some nut job. And it looked too professional.
"Implants. Not alien probe implants but... Well in some people it's called biotics. In me, it's basically what keeps me alive." She turned around, to look at him. "I dreamed I died. Fell from space and burned up. Someone brought me back. I woke up with...these...and with facial scars. Those have mostly disappeared. And then there's this."
Still topless, she pulled the Omnitool on and activated it. It case her skin in an orange glow as she used it to bring up what was basically a read out of her body and all the implants within.
Wolfwood blinked as she took out some kind of tool. He had to admit that this all looked pretty convincing - even more so when he jumped six feet when the fucking thing glowed orange. “Jesus. That’s ... beyond insane. I mean. You’re basically saying your dreams became reality?”
"Yes. And that....what happened in Vegas, what happened here..." She changed the Omnitool to show a recording of the battle, with the Reaper towering over the city. "That's the nightmare that's been plaguing me every night for well over a year. I hope to god you never dream. But who knows what’s next. And I know you’re a good fighter."
Wolfwood felt sick as he watched the thing take Vegas out without breaking a proverbial sweat. “I want to think you’re crazy,” he told her bluntly. And yet, he knew she wasn’t.
“I’d love to think I’m crazy too,” she said, seriously, cutting off the images. She started shrugging back into her shirt. “Sometimes I thought I was. There are days I look around and I see what this place would look like after an attack. There have been a lot of weird things here. And that Reaper wasn’t the first alien attack I fought.”
“How are you keeping sane?” Wolfwood raised an eyebrow.
"Lots of sex," she joked. "Really, just...trying to do things that are positive, and think positive. Because it's really easy to let it all crush you. And I've had a lot of help. Hell...I dreamed about my wife before I ever met her. And other people, too."
“Really?” Wolfwood chuckled. “That is kind of nice, I guess.” Dreaming about someone who’d give you that kind of love? Sounded nice, if out of reach.
“Yeah.Wasn’t really looking for it before that.” Shepard chuckled.
“Eh, who is. I just like the idea that there’s possibility.” Wolfwood was doing his best to not stare at Shepard’s breasts, especially after hearing she was married. “I don’t know, Shepard. I mean ... it all seems nuts, but you’re not. And yet ... I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do about any of this?”
They really were nice. “Mostly I wanted to warn you. And I wanted to show that I’m not crazy, because spend too much time reading the net and you’ll think everyone out here is crazy.”
“Well, everyone is crazy. It’s just how much of it is bad crazy.” Wolfwood managed a faint smile. “Thought you learned that in the service, Colonel.”
“Call me Commander. That’s my rank in the dreams. Similar to Colonel.” Shepard smiled wryly. “Save the universe, don’t get a promotion. Go figure, right?”
"Well, that's some bullshit. Why Commander, are you Navy?"
“It’s called the System’s Alliance,” she replied. “I’m a Marine still, but it’s heavily navy, since there are ships. Which I should get a tattoo of, actually.”
"So wait. You're actually a soldier in another system?" Wolfwood asked. "In your dreams?"
“Earth and her colonies, yes. Not quite as united as you’d want, but we have one space based military. First Contact didn’t go so well.” Shepard chuckled. “We won that war, though.”
"Worries me what I might dream about, if I dream." Wolfwood shook his head. "I should probably stock up on Ambien."
“I know a guy,” Shepard replied, a little too quickly.
"You fuckin' would." Wolfwood laughed gruffly. "But I should probably get going. I have to go buy a microwave. Cooking's hard."
“Get married, then...actually I married a scientist, we’re still kind of screwed.” She grinned. “Get something big enough to nuke a turkey, you won’t regret it.”
“If I can find it, I will.” Wolfwood did the same casual salute as he had before. “It was good to see you again, Shepard. Glad you’re hanging in.” He was - she’d been a good CO and a good soldier. The service’s bullshit policy about sexuality didn’t seem to have kept her down too much.
“Glad to see you again, Wolfwood.” She nodded at him. “Watch your back. And if you ever need an ear, just call.”
“Yes, ma’am. Hard to turn off old habits; I’ll have my ear to the ground. My best to your wife and everything.” He managed an awkward smile, then turned to walk back to his car. He had a lot to absorb.