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Once a year, without fail, Commander Shepard requested approximately two weeks off. And every year, no matter what, her main vacation ended up being during the same time of year. Her reasons tended to be vague, but never questionable enough for anyone to be concerned. Of course, considering her reputation for overworking herself, most of her superiors likely would have been fine with things even if Shepard submitted no justifications for her request. Whatever she took a break for was something she had more than earned. Few were privy to her life outside of work (made evident by the fact that even Cerberus hasn't been aware of her twin’s existence), and even those who were didn't know where she went during her annual leave.
Not until the Reapers arrived, at least.
In the year of their invasion, Earth was occupied during the time Shepard always requested a few days off. When she made no attempt to ask for such, most assumed it was because of her focus on the war, but others caught the strangeness that plagued her gaze. They didn't ask for fear of worsening her wounds- seeing as she was so often uncomfortable with speaking of her own ailments. Generally, it was safer to wait for her to initiate a conversation about such things than to bring up the topic yourself. Of course, there were rare exceptions…. as well as individuals who were unaware of this ‘rule of thumb’. Take the young Samantha Traynor, for example, who felt a mighty need to try to help her commander, but kept quiet mainly due to anxiety.
There came a day, however, where the opportunity to speak arose in an unusually natural fashion. The Normandy was approaching the Citadel for restocking, and Shepard had requested someone inform her of their arrival. To Traynor’s surprise, the Commander had muted her comm, forcing someone to deliver the news in person. Being the communications specialist… she decided to do such. Although it certainly wouldn’t be the first time she went to Shepard’s personal quarters, it would perhaps be the time that made her the most nervous. She had noted the woman’s unusual behavior, as well as the tension perpetually wrapped around her shoulders, and honestly wasn’t sure how well talking to her would go- regardless of whether or not the issue of her health was brought up. But despite her worries, she made her way to the top of the Normandy.
Knock knock. Her hand graced the panel, a soft touch still allowing sound to fill the small space. Inside her chest her heart pounded, blood rushing to and fro, breath locked in her lungs. When no reply came she hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. It’s okay, Samantha, she thought to herself, she asked me to let her know when we started our approach. Definitely won’t get mad at me for coming up here. After a slight pause, as well as a deep breath, she lifted her hand and knocked once more, this time a fair bit louder. It took a moment, but shuffling noises started coming from Shepard’s room. They were quiet, akin to the rustling of fabric, and it sparked another spike of panic in Traynor’s chest. Is she…? The comms specialist thought, not entirely sure where exactly her worries were going. Luckily the sounds stopped just a few seconds later, followed by a quiet voice.
“Yeah?... Come on in, I guess…” It was the softest she had ever heard Shepard talk. Her voice was as low as ever, but there was no pain, nor harshness, nor hint of air scraping past gravel-covered lungs. There was a blankness to it, yes, but a clean slate could be wondrous when one was used to red ledgers. “Just… don’t mind the mess, yeah?” The commander added, tone now displaying a bit of embarrassment. Completely unsure of what to expect, Samantha opened the door, peeking in slowly. To her surprise she saw… well, everything in a completely orderly fashion. There were no dead fish in the tank, no clothes thrown messily in a pile, and no scraps of paper scattered around a trash bin. Perhaps the only thing ‘out of place’ was the Commander herself. Shepard was sitting still upon her bed, a cardboard box lying half-closed next to her. The sullenness of her expression stood out- so vastly different from the vibrancy of her surroundings.
“Ahem, Commander?... We’ve started our approach to the Citadel. Joker estimates we’ll be there within the hour,” Traynor said, leaning slightly against the wall. For a few moments Shepard didn’t respond, her gaze locked on something within the box next to her, a tint of sadness creeping into her expression. Eventually she looked up with a tight frown, nodding swiftly before returning her attention to the container’s contents. I wonder what’s in there, Samantha thought, concern collecting in her chest. Knowing that she didn’t get many chance to speak to the Commander in private, she quickly decided to press the issue. If there’s any way I can help her… “Are… are you feeling alright, Shepard? Do you need me to get anything for you?” She asked, eyebrows knitted, eyes filled to the brim with a genuine sense of worry. To her utter surprise, the Commander replied immediately.
“You could find me a way to get the Reapers off of Earth.” There was no softness left in her voice, just a firmness, one paired with an evident ache . Although it had always been clear that Shepard cared deeply about her homeworld, and hated those who now threatened it, there seemed to be something extra in the way she now expressed those feelings. Clearly there was more to the situation than a simple bout of anger or misery. Maybe I should try to call up Chambers?... Samantha wondered, desperately unsure if she could handle this herself- or even if the soldier would let her help. No, at least not yet. I’ve got to do what I can when I can.
“I… I know you miss Earth, Commander. All of us do. But there’s…” She started to say, tripping over her own tongue, trying hard to form sentences that were both coherent and comforting, “I’m not sure there’s much else we can do at this moment. We’re all fighting as hard as we can, Shepard. If I could think of anything else to further things- I mean, anything , I… I swear I’d let you know. I’m trying-”
“It’s alright, Traynor,” Shepard interjected, raising her volume a bit. There wasn’t any anger in her voice, surprisingly, nor any disappointment. “I know for a fact you’re doing your best. I know every member of my crew is trying their damndest to finish this, to drive those sorry fuckin’ bastards off our planet. I can see it in your eyes- their eyes, I can feel it in the air, see it in the way their bones shake, their bodies tense up every time the reports come in… I know everyone is giving it their all, and I couldn’t be prouder,” she continued, turning the situation on its head. The comforted was now doing the comforting. I get the feeling there’s a ‘but’ coming, though, Samantha thought, waiting for the Commander to speak again. “There’s just… something that usually happens around this time of year. I’ve only ever missed it twice, and both times it was because I was quite literally dead, as well as locked up in a Cerberus lab, taking a not-so-casual nap on a presumably uncomfortable slab.”
That… definitely hadn’t been what Samantha was expecting. It made sense, however, and was enough for her to work off of. She could pry a little further into the situation, find a way to either help Shepard go without the event, whatever it was, or recreate it somehow, probably, and- she paused her thoughts for a moment, noticing the Commander reopening the box by her side. Both of her hands reached in slowly, cradling something just out of Samantha’s view. The soldier glanced up quietly, conflict clear in her eyes, before slowly lifting something up. Only a split second passed before understanding dawned on Traynor, who let out a soft ‘oh’ . Part of her had wondered why Shepard trusted her with this, but everything made a lot more sense at that point. Held carefully in the Commander’s hands was what could only be a flag, adorned with rainbow colors, folded up as neatly as possible.
“I… guess there’s no harm in letting you know,” she said, gently placing the object to her left, then reaching back into the box. Slowly, while her companion watched with curiosity clear in her eyes, she removed a few more items. Most were pictures, but there were a few mementos from past parades as well. “Every year I go back to Earth. I go back to my hometown, donned in civies, and march with people like me. No one ever recognizes me- ‘m just another face in the crowd, another person unafraid to be myself. But this year…” Shepard trailed off quietly. There seemed to be a sort of lump in her throat, based on the way she struggled to swallow her words. The sight felt unnatural, almost artificial, the very idea of the Commander left vulnerable being nigh impossible to digest. It worried Samantha at first, before lighting a fire in her soul. Somehow, someway, she was going to fix this. She was going to make Shepard smile if it was the last thing she did.
“This has to be hard for you, Commander, but… but what if we could, well, have Pride here? On the Citadel, I mean?” She started to say, ideas rushing madly through her brain. Immediately she piqued her friend’s interest, and so she continued, mouth barely able to keep up with her mind. All the while she pulled out her tablet, starting to run searches. “There are thousands and thousands of refugees, right? Plenty of them are from Earth or other human colonies. There are bound to be hundreds who fall within the spectrum, considering the percentage of the overall population who do, and surely some of them would be interested in getting together, right? I know it wouldn’t be the same, but it’s worth a shot, isn’t it?” Samantha asked, taking a breath for what felt like the first time in several minutes. More ideas popped into her head a second later, making her gasp quietly, and she doubled her typing speed. “We could invite Steve, if you wanted. I don’t think he mentioned having any plans for today. He might know some others who would be interested, too.”
“You know, Traynor, I had… given up. On going to pride this year, I mean. I…” The Commander started, softly, taking a moment to wipe a few tears away. “Thank you. This is… If we can do this, if this happens, it’ll be exactly what I need. I mean, I can’t say no to a good pick-me-up, right?” She added, letting herself chuckle a bit. More tears trickled down her cheeks, but she made no note of it.
“Well, it looks like we’re in luck, Commander. According to the holonet, there are already people arranging a Pride event today. Guess you weren’t the only one missing Earth,” Samantha said, passing the tablet to Shepard with a grin. “So, do you want to go?” She asked. Without a moment of hesitation she received a frantic nod in return, followed by something she hadn’t expected: A hug. The Commander wasn’t often one to show affection in such an open way, but she wasn’t about to complain (especially not when their height difference let her rest her head perfectly in the crook of Shepard’s neck). Smiling softly she returned the embrace, one of her hands rubbing the other woman’s back, the quietest of sighs escaping her lips. “It’s alright, Shep,” she murmured, “everything is going to be just fine. Now c’mon, we have Pride to get ready for.”