Under Better Circumstances 2 - After Hours Visitor

Title: Under Better Circumstances - Chapter 2: After Hours Visitor
Author: xRebel666x
Game: Mass Effect
Characters/Pairing: Commander Nevada Shepard (femShep) and James Vega

*****SPOILERS ARE IN THIS CHAPTER!!!!*****

Chapter 2 - After Hours Visitor

  The lights in the Detention Center were dimmed and the halls were quiet. Apart from a couple of Alliance soldiers doing their rounds around the building, Nevada Shepard was alone. Locked in her room night after night, she had nothing to do but patiently wait for morning to break over the horizon. Every night the silence haunted her, tugging on the verge of her sanity. The longer she waited for her trial, the more her isolation crept into the depths of her mind. She was a prisoner restricted to an empty cell where her only company was her memories.

  Lying down on the bed, her eyes welled up. She wanted nothing more than to spend another night on the hard mattress in her quarters aboard the Normandy. It may have been unpleasant to sleep in but it was where she belonged. She was a Commander stranded without a mission, without a team, without a ship. Even with her title being revoked, the protocol was so ingrained in her lifestyle that she was having difficulties adjusting. Not even the soft pillows or the warm sheets made this confinement comfortable.

  Knowing no one would hear, she openly confessed, "I miss my bed… I miss my crew… I miss the Normandy… I miss the battles… I miss being… me."

  Rolling onto her side, she peered around the dim room. Snow lightly shimmered outside her window, reflecting off the soft glow from the halogens of Alliance HQ. Blanketing the grounds in a sea of white and camouflaging the surrounding buildings to blend together. The silhouette of a pine tree sat in the corner near the window, its dark branches dressed in various ornaments and tinsel. Nevada avoided celebrating holidays but the higher ups insisted she have a tree… saying it would be good for morale. Even though it was nothing more than a lifeless piece of plastic, she could swear it was begging her to plug in the lights. Maybe it was the mysticism of the season growing on her.

  Shepard shifted onto her back and stared at the ceiling, counting the holes scattered across the panels. She sighed, "Another restless night, another…"

  She got interrupted by a faint knock at the door. Immediately sitting up on the bed, she locked her concentration on the doorway. Another knock vibrated from it, followed by the clicking noises of the door being unlatched. Her heart pounded rapidly against her chest cavity, anticipating the worst. She had many enemies who would jump at the chance to take her out… especially with her being unarmed and the center being manned at minimal capacity for the holidays.

  In the flick of a switch, the light near the door came on and revealed a burly man standing with a large bottle of tequila in his hand. Lieutenant James Vega quietly closed the door and directed his attention to the woman groggily staring at him. "Feliz Navidad, Commander… Thought you could use some company," he smiled, wholeheartedly.

  "You know you shouldn't be here, James. Especially with that bottle," Nevada grumbled, stirring away from her sheets and bringing her legs to dangle at the edge of her mattress.

  "I shouldn't be calling you Commander either but I still do."

  "You'll be in a world of trouble if anyone finds out."

  "No one will. I have some compadres working the rounds tonight. We're in the clear until sunrise," he added, walking over to her holiday tree and plugging in the lights. The multicolored bulbs presented a comforting glow to the room, their ambient hues dressing the walls with a cheerful shine. He grabbed two glasses from the counter and placed them alongside the tequila bottle on her nightstand. Pulling away the chair from her nearby desk, he placed it next to her bed and took a seat, "Plus, no one should spend Christmas alone."

  Trying to make sense of his after hours intrusion, she asked, "What if I wanted to be alone?"

  "No one likes being alone… including you, Shepard… and especially on the holidays."

  "How would you know?"

  "I think I know you well enough by now," he smiled, recollecting their time spent since they first encountered each other on Omega.

  Her eyes shied away, "Fine, but what if I don't like to celebrate Christmas?"

  "Why wouldn't you?"

  "Too much of a distraction, duty always comes first," she commanded, her authoritative disposition still reverberating in her voice.  

  Pouring a good portion of tequila into each glass, James added a splash more into his before mentioning, "But you're not on duty right now."

  "Thanks for reminding me about my 'voluntary' decommission," she sneered. Hunched over her knees, the mental impression of the heavy military-grade cuffs plagued her thoughts. Even with her shackles gone, she could feel their haunting presence.

  "How about this… we set everything aside and just drink for the sake of it?" he asked, handing her a filled glass.

  "I can handle that," she took the glass and held it up, "Cheers."

  "Salud," Vega purred, letting his Spanish accent rumble.

  The burn from the tequila awakened every one of her senses. This was her first time drinking since she had been detained. Shepard stared at the empty glass, feeling the warmth work its way through her veins. Letting the sensation begin to engulf her, she curiously wondered "What makes you think that I'm lonely?"

  "You carry yourself well around others but I can see right through that tough skin of yours. I know what you are really hiding, you can't fool me."

  "Maybe you do, Lieutenant. Or maybe I have you fooled as well," Shepard scoffed, "But consider me intrigued, so continue…"

  "Well you have nothing to do when I'm not here, I can see how much you crave attention every time I enter and your eyes lock onto me… Plain and simply, you're miserable here."

  "Of course I'm miserable. I'm in a holding cell," she snarled, her fingers tensely gripping onto the bottle of tequila as she poured another round, "They are testing my patience… and my sanity… I'm under constant scrutiny and it feels like they want me to go insane, they want me to snap. Then they can have a valid reason for their actions."

  "At least you have me around to keep you company."

  "I don't need y-" her voice pierced, stopping mid-sentence to further evaluate her statement. Nevada eyed the Lieutenant patiently waiting for her response. She changed her tone to emphasize the next series of words, "I don't need you but… I do appreciate you spending all this time with me. It does help."

  James promptly sat up, smiling, "You know what else helps?"

  Curious, she raised her eyebrow and asked, "What?"

  "Another drink," he pushed the bottle towards her, "And take a real shot… not one of those senorita sips."

  Without another word, she snatched the bottle and pursed the opening to her lips. Chugging down three solid gulps of tequila and pounding the bottle back on the table. She stared at the Lieutenant and didn't remove her gaze the entire time the liquor scorched down her throat, nearly regretting the spontaneous action.  

  "Now we're talking!" James exclaimed, sincerely shocked.

  Feeling the effects immediately taking their toll, she admitted, "It's been awhile since I felt that… Last time I drank, I ended up on the floor."

  "How many shots did that take?"

  "I don't remember. All I can recall was the bartender pouring me a glass of Ryncol."

  "Ryncol?" Vega snorted, the liquor in his mouth threatening to jump out his nose, "Really, Shepard? You expect me to believe that? You must be loca."

  "I wouldn't lie to you. If you want, we can settle this right now…" her lip curled to the side, she was determined to prove her ability to out-drink him.

  "Deal. I doubt you can even keep up with me. You seem to forget that I've been drinking a lot since the incident on Fehl."

  "And you seem to forget that I was dead."

  "You win in that aspect but I'm still going to drink you under the table."

  "Under the table, huh? Is that all you were planning to do there?" she taunted, seeing if she could get a rise out of him.

  The Lieutenant cocked his head at the unexpected statement, carefully evaluating Shepard's intentions, "You're going to have to work harder than that if you want me to blush."

  "We'll see about that, Mr. Vega," she smiled, "After all, you brought me a gift… now I owe you one."

  "You don't have to."

  "No, I need to repay you back, Lieutenant. I cannot have this hanging over my head. So what'll it be?"

  "What are my options?"

  "For the sake of curiosity… anything you could ever desire," she paused with the rim of her glass pursed against her lips, "as long as it's within regulations."

  Without any hesitation, James admitted, "I would love to see you in a dress."

  Shepard immediately gagged on the shot of tequila in her throat, "No way, I look horrendous in those things. I did it once… never again. I'm surprised I haven't burned it yet."

  "I don't know, Shepard, I think you would look good in a dress. Especially something short to show off those legs of yours."

  "Are you flirting with me, Lieutenant?"

  "For the sake of this argument, I'm going to say it's the tequila talking," he smiled right before taking another drink.

  "Good because it's against protocol."

  "But you're not a Commander at the moment," he included, anxiously waiting to see if she would notice his advances.

  "You still call me one."

  "That's because I have nothing but respect for you."

  "Well, as long as you don't become president of some fanclub, I'll let it pass. I have enough of that with Conrad."

  "Conrad? Is he an old beau?"

  "No, no, no, no… I would rather shoot myself. Actually," she chuckled, "I shot him. Conrad Verner is nothing more but an obsessed fan. It's one thing to take my example and use it to try and better the world, it's another to go around wearing the same armor and causing more trouble than good."

  "So you shot him?"

  "In the foot… nothing serious, just something to hopefully make him think twice."

  "Remind me to never get on your bad side."

  "Are you reconsidering your statement about me in the dress?"

  "No, I'll stand my ground on that issue."

  "Confidence… Determination… I like that in a man," she bit her lip.

  "Are you flirting with me, Commander?" he asked, turning the question around.

  "For the sake of this argument," she repeated his sentence, mocking him, "I'm going to blame the tequila."

  "Cheap shot, Shepard," the Lieutenant pouted, knowing he lost his chance at an honest answer, "What's next? You're going to shoot me in the foot for getting too close?"

  "No, you're no where close to Conrad, he's beyond irritating. I never want to see that man again. But knowing my luck, I will bump into him again… and he's gotten himself in even more trouble just from trying to be like me."

  "Maybe I should think of a nickname for him ahead of time," he joked, sliding the bottle towards Nevada suggesting she refill her glass.

  As she unscrewed the top, she was curious about his fascination with giving people nicknames. Whenever he encountered another Alliance soldier in the hallway, he was calling them by their newly acquired name. "What's with you and the nicknames?"

  "Some people just don't match their names, so, you know... I just give them a new one."

  "What about me? Do I get a nickname?"

  "I haven't thought of one for you yet."

  "Oh come on, James. You have nicknames for everyone but me… think of one."

  He quietly stared at Nevada, his drunken gaze concentrating on her every attribute, "You kind of look like a Lola."

  "Lola?"

  "Yeah, my best friend's sister growing up was Lola. She was hot… and tough."

  "Hot and tough, huh? You're cute... so I'll let you get away with it. For now," she

  "I can think of worse things to call you."

  "Oh? Like what?"

  "If I really wanted to get under your skin, I would call you Navidad… since you don't like to celebrate Christmas and Navidad is similar to Nevada. Navidad," he snickered, emphasizing the similarities in the two words.

  "Laugh it up, soldier," she glared at him.

  "You asked."

  "Then take a stab at me."

  "Your hair is stupid."

  "Is that the best you can come up with?"

  "I'm drunk, shut up," she pursed her lips, pouting.

   He laughed at his little victory, "So what'll it be?"

  "I'm fine with Lola."

  "You got it, Lola," James confirmed, "From now on, that's all I'm going to call you whenever I visit."

  "Come to think of it," she pondered, "Why are you always in here, James? I'm sure you have better places to be."

  "I can't tell you."

  Shepard gawked at him, the alcohol fueling her curiosity, "You know by saying you can't tell me that you have to tell me. You can't leave a damsel hanging."

  Trying to avoid the conversation, Vega attempted being direct, "It is classified Alliance information, Commander."

  "Come on, James. You expect me to believe that your reason for hanging around me is classified. Just tell me… I probably won't remember in an hour or two anyway…" she slurred, staring at the drops remaining in her glass, "make that about half an hour."

  "No."

  Nevada set her glass down and leaned forward, drunkenly batting her eyelashes at him. She began breathing heavily, her voice successfully concealing her inebriation, "You could just stand by the door, sticking to the code and leaving me alone while on guard…" She shifted towards him, closing in their distance. Skillfully using her beauty and sexual prowess to clench onto his heartstrings, "but you don't. You've been waltzing in here nearly every day, talking with me… playing chess with me… keeping me company."

  "I…" he gulped, "I made a promise to Admiral Anderson."

  "And," she bit her lip, waiting for him to continue.

  The closer Shepard became, the louder his heart pounded. She was devious in her ability to play with his emotions. Tugging on his attraction to her and pulling away with her unyielding devotion to her duty. This wasn't the first time she toyed with him but even with knowing her every move, he still couldn't resist her crafty advances. Her body was honed in, her heavy breathing brushing against his ear… sending tingles down his spine, exciting his senses. All he could wonder is know how far she'd go this time.

  "I'm waiting, Lieutenant," she whispered with her lips nearly an inch away from his lobe.

  He could no longer contain himself, "I promised I would protect the most valuable asset the Alliance could ever have."

  "Is that all?"

  "No. In time, I came to enjoy spending my time with you, Shepard. You are one hell of a solider. You are the best N7 operative I know."

  "Was that so difficult?" she purred, her mouth becoming dangerously close… her long hair dusting across his bare skin.

  "No, it's just…" he paused to breathe in her aroma, "I hold you so highly in my thoughts that spending time with you is priceless."

  "Are you trying to make me blush?"

  "That depends, are you going to slug me if I say yes? Or will I be luckier today?" he asked, a smirk happily planting itself on his face.

  Nevada stared directly into his deep brown eyes, weighing her options. In a split second, she pulled away, "Not today, Lieutenant."

  The blood pumping through his veins boiled, "You are such a tease, Commander!"

  "I know," she smiled, shifting back to her spot on the bed.

  "Why are you doing this to me?"

  "Because I can, you were holding information I wanted and I was going to do whatever I could to retrieve it."

  "If that was all then maybe I should be more hesitant to tell you."

  "Maybe you should…" she winked, grabbing the tequila. She tilted the bottle and noticed a lack of liquid coming out. She peered down the neck, confirming the contents were empty. "Looks like we already went through the whole bottle," the slur in her tone becoming more apparent, "I'm not even that drunk yet."

  "I'm not either," the Lieutenant added with his voice equally as inebriated.

  "I guess we'll have to settle our drinking duel another time."

  "Or… I could get the other bottle in my locker."

  "You have liquor in your Alliance locker?"

  James nodded.

  "As much as that is against regulations… I approve of it," she admitted, attracted to the idea of sharing a few more drinks with the Lieutenant, "Do you think you can retrieve it without drawing any attention?"

  "Oh course."

  "Then what are you waiting for?" she asked with the holiday tree lights twinkling in her eyes.

   James Vega stood up, the alcohol rushing to his head and causing him to wobble a bit. As he began stumbling towards the door, his thoughts were filled with the Commander's alluring nature. The way she used her body to entice him left him yearning for more. Knowing she would continue to choose duty over his devoted adoration, he could only remain hopeful in eventually breaking her barrier. When his hand was on the handle, he heard Shepard shout his name.

  "James," she called out, "I just wanted to let you know that this was a good idea. Gra-… gratzi-… oh how do you say thank you again?"

  "Gracias."

  "That's it! Gracias, Señor Vega."

  Hearing Shepard trying to use his native tongue warmed his heart. It didn't matter if the way she pronounced the words was horrible… all that mattered was how she was trying. He shook his head with a smile, "I like you, Lola."

  "I like you too. Now hurry up, that's an order."