Drown Your Sorrows In The Sea | OPEN

[earthborn]

Who| Shepard and OPEN
What| That feel when your boyfriend ain't coming back
Where| Various drinking establishments, and also the Tribute center roof
When| A few days after Thane's death in the arena
Warnings/Notes| Talk about death, crude language, spoilers for mass effect maybe

1; A random Bar, or the Foxhole (your choice):

An hour ago, she'd just been getting started. In three, they'd kick her out of here. Half an hour ago, she'd sized up someone else for a barfight-- and only just barely let him go. There he was in the corner, a big guy with his skin dyed a fashionable emerald-green, daisy-yellow shading to his elbows, and lips painted pink. He looked like he lifted weights and masturbated to Arena footage for a hobby; Shepard amused herself by imagining his day job was something menial, like a janitor, or a sewage inspector. Something too important to give to an avox. Something nasty, and difficult, that he couldn't talk about over dinner.

God damn it, it wasn't worth it-- screwing with capitol civilians was a real easy way to get yourself in real deep trouble. But with every shot she had, it was starting to sound like a better idea. Why don't you slide on in here, stranger, and give her a distraction?


2; The Tribute Center Roof:

Shepard was drunk. She was drunk in a way that she hadn't been in a long time-- perhaps ever. She couldn't remember it ever being this bad, not without the assistance of hallucinogens or bloodloss, without that touch of venom to put an extra whirl in an already dizzy world. She was drunk enough, now, that she could think that far without wincing from it.

She'd been kicked out of three bars today, and turned away at a fourth. Even the fucking pillow fort felt too claustrophobic and so she'd abandoned it for the rooftop and bottles of piss-yellow beer. If she were honest, maybe Shepard could admit that some of this wasn't about how much she'd poured down her throat today. Most of it, really-- even the Capitol couldn't completely kill her metabolism, not this close to a revival.

But even if she wanted to be alone, she didn't really. And that pissed her off too-- so have an angry ginger up on the rooftop, Tributes, chucking bottlecaps and glass over the guard-rails and hating her life. Do with that what you will.

Comments

[aintyourdad]

"So what is it, you don't want company or you don't think I want your company?" Joel asks with a quirked eyebrow. "And do I get a beer?"

[earthborn]

"Fuck. Off, I am not here so you'r'anyone else can come up and psychoanalyze me," This time she really did throw a beer at him. It was... well, it was plausible enough that he could have been meant to catch it.

Impulse control had never been her strong suit, really. Not when it came to easy, physical violence. Particularly not when she was already emotional. Good luck to you, Joel.

"I meant," she pronounced it with exaggerated care, "That I've been kicked out of what y'might call group drinkened 'stablishments."

[aintyourdad]

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm gonna do Shepard. Try to make you tell me every bad thing that ever happened to you," he mutters dryly.

Fortunately, he's had a fair amount of experience with temperamental women who can kick his ass. He ducks the thrown beer, because he's not quick enough on the uptake to catch it, and it crashes somewhere behind him.

"Well that was a waste of a good beer."

[earthborn]

"You'd be here a while," She growled, and considered lobbing another at him, just for spite's sake, but settled for simply kicking the carton at him instead. The bottles rattled and sloshed as it slid, but it didn't tip over.

Shouldn't drink alone, he says. Well, be my fucking guest, asshole.

[aintyourdad]

Joel just leaned down, keeping one eye on Shepard as he pulled a beer out of the carton and cracked it open, leaning against the nearest planter.

"Yeah, well, that goes for both of us," he said with a shrug. Nothing else. No questions, no prying, just drinking a beer standing just far enough away that she'd have to move if she legitimately wanted to hit him.

[earthborn]

She didn't move. She meant to, but when the impulse arrived, the moment had passed, and it suddenly seemed like all momentum had been sucked down into her socks, where it sat like a leaden weight, building friction against the floor. Shepard let the weight bear her down in silence.

"You're a real asshole, you know that, right?"

She could be talking to the railing, or the overlook of the city streets below, warped through the forcefield; certainly she's making eye contact with them. But it's quiet, because she's angry, sure, but also so, so tired.

[aintyourdad]

"Yeah," he says easily, affirming her words. No 'but', no 'I'm not as bad as so-and-so' , just a simple agreement that he is, in fact, an asshole. No point denying it.

He takes a sip of his beer, and sighs.

"That's why we need to stick together, though."

Because they're both assholes, right? Right.

[earthborn]

She choked on that, wasn't expecting it, and the weight momentarily bowed her back until the splitting ends of Shepard's hair brushed the scabs on her knuckles. Loyalty, real loyalty, not commanded by the obligations of duty, money, or mutual hatred, was supposed to be rare. It was supposed to be impossible-- like faith, it was something you only got if you were a god, or one of Garrus' much sworn-by Turian Spirits. Or an angel.

"Yeah," Fierce in wrath. A tenacious protector. And a bit of an asshole too, she could bet, "I just... It's hard to remember what I'm doing any of this for. Why I need to keep going."

Why people kept trusting her, and calling her their friend. Why people like Joel would come up to a roof when she was drunk enough to wish even her friends dead, and sit there like they could draw out the poison. Why, if all that precious loyalty was supposed to be so fucking rare, did it keep happening to her?

[aintyourdad]

If she voiced any of that aloud to him, he probably wouldn't know what to say. Except perhaps that she's overthinking things. Everyone has people they care for, and who care for them. Even some of the most terrible people he's met, have had loved ones.

And sure, yeah, they've done bad things, but who hasn't? Where he comes from, everyone is terrible. That's just how you stay alive.

"Well, you gotta go back and save your universe or whatever, right?" Joel finally says. "From the space bugs?"

[earthborn]

"Be lucky just to save whatever's left of Earth," she sighed. C'mon, Joel, this is how it goes. Shepard would never have taken a job as anyone's boss if she hadn't developed the skill of thinking too damn hard, "One of these days, they are going to let a pack of Husks, or a Banshee loose in an arena, and then you're not going to say space bugs like it's some made up bullshit."

You make her smile, Joel, and you humble her with the casual, blunt, profundity of you. How can she think about dying when you sit there like a hairy bezoar stuck in the universe's craw, refusing to be digested, refusing to budge until the world either spits you back out or chokes. Stubborn old bastard.

"Actually, you could probably handle the Husks alright. They're not very smart."

[aintyourdad]

"I'm not disbelievin' you," Joel says lightly, but hey, he got the idea across. Even if he's mixing up Reapers with the alien bad guys from Ellie's comic books.

Fact of the matter is, he keeps living for the people he cares about. Right now it's Tess, and her. Maybe a couple of the kids - Clem, Beth.

He's not a good person, but he cares for some of the good ones. Of varying sorts. And he'll see to it they come out alright, or die trying.

"Husks - don't sound too smart, by the name," he points out. "Let me guess, mindless shells that used to be people?"

[earthborn]

"Put that way, you're describing all the Reapers, to one degree or another. See, Joel, that's what they do," She turned, put her elbows up behind her, leaning on the railing, "They harvest us. We are... They came up with all these names for them, the different kinds. Husks were human, but there're these-- they're called Marauders. Turians, or they used to be. Those ones are smarter, they shoot back."

An honest fight, against an enemy that deserved to die. She remembered when fighting Reapers seemed complicated, now Shepard misses that simplicity.

"But yeah, they all used to be people. Our worlds have more in common than you'd think."

[aintyourdad]

Joel nods. "Except, in your world, you've got someone you can blame. Better yet, you've got someone you can fight, to stop it. To fix it. Sounds like you've got a leg up on mine."

[earthborn]

"I'll be honest with you, I don't think the dead care if the living suffer. Or who's got it worse."

Thane, and Tess, and so many others. She'd failed them or they'd chosen it, or... or fate had exacted its pound of flesh.

"But, like I said. We see one of those things in this place, be careful, and stay the hell away from it. There's no way to come back from Reaper Indoctrination, and I'm not even sure that dying would save you from carrying it back to the Capitol."

[aintyourdad]

"I don't care who's got it worse," he says with a snort. "Just pointing out you've got somethin' to get back to."

He's trying to give you a little hope, Shep, geez.

"I'll keep that in mind, though. Maybe it wouldn't work on me since I think it's all bullshit, anyway," he teases, taking another sip of his beer.

[earthborn]

"There you go. You solved it, that's the fucking cure for Reapers. Not giving a shit," She wants a beer and she's going to have a beer and the image of Garrus' judging face in the back of her mind isn't going to stop her, "Now who's saving the galaxy huh? The Man Who Cured The World, Joel--"

She of course hadn't opened it. For one thing, she was distracted, and for another, she was lying to herself and everyone else if she said that Garrus' opinion of her didn't matter. But still, the glass felt good in her hand, as did the weight.

"...Do you even have a last name?"

Seriously, how long has she known you and not yet figured out your name. It's unfair.

[aintyourdad]

Joel makes a face at the very notion of being hailed as some kind of savior of humanity. And another swig of beer.

"Christ, you can take the credit. Leave me out of it."

He gives her a long, appraising look, then shrugs and says simply: "Miller."

[earthborn]

"Wow, that's almost as boring as 'Shepard'. Suits you."

Shepard doesn't follow suit, but she does start picking at the loose corner on her beer's label.

"No, it's already too late," He looks uncomfortable, which is her cue to make it worse, "The thirty-two hour news cycle has you now, and you'll forever be known as yet another asshole Commander Shepard dragged, kicking and screaming, into the history books. I'll save you a space on the memory wall next to all the other noble jerks."

[aintyourdad]

"I'm a pretty boring guy, it's true." Or he would be, if not for the whole zombie apocalypse thing.

"Ugh, no thanks. I'd never be able to live in peace."

[earthborn]

"Heh. Hm. Y'know, back home there was this, this reporter. I guess she was more of a paparazzi, really. She would follow me around the Citadel like a bloodhound, with this....drone thing, shining a light in my eyes," She smiled to think of it, almost fond with remembered ire. The good old days-- well, they were shit at the time, as Joker had been fond of saying, but still, "Eventually I got fed up with it and gave her a black eye. You'd think she'd have taken the hint, but she kept comin' back. I guess violence sells."

Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News. How in hell did she stay employed?

"Can't get away with that around here, though."

[aintyourdad]

"No, we can't," he agrees, shaking his head a little. Honestly, he might've done the same in her shoes, and he'd love nothing more than to do that and more to more than a few of the Capitolites he's encountered.

But they both know better than that. Mostly.

"I'm sure she found a way to make herself the innocent victim, or somethin'."

[earthborn]

"Maybe. I only heard about it once from my superiors, though. Guess by round two, there were bigger fish to fry than some supposedly dead ex-Spectre," The label pulls free, tearing off in a long, narrow strip around the top, curling like an orange-peel, "Same bullshit as here, though. Just a bigger audience. Then came Aratoht, and... well, you know the rest."

And, she suddenly realized, that he did. Joel knew. Joel had been there, last year, when they'd put up her worst crimes against sentient life for everyone to see. Joel had been the one to not care, to show up and offer her a coffee and a shoulder to stand beside. Shepard's smile wasn't for the impromptu taper in her hands; she dropped it, and it lit like a flare when it hit the forcefield, floating away on its own convection currents, fizzling, too light even to bounce.

"Sorry. About the bottle. It's not exactly my proudest... year."

[aintyourdad]

He does know the rest - well, sort of. Not really from personal experience, but so what? Shepard is good people, based on her actions in the time he's known her. That's the only real way he has to judge a person.

"Is it for any of us?" he asks pointedly. It's not like anyone is much better off. "You need a punchin' bag, I can take a hit. Just not too hard, miss 'I'm half a robot'."

[earthborn]

"Excuse me? I'm only a third robot, unlike your issue, which is where most of you is hair by volume."

If Joel came up here to distract her, he's winning that fight. But if he came up here for an insult battle, he's going to lose.

[aintyourdad]

"I'm not sure where the issue is," Joel points out easily. "It keeps me warm. I didn't see you complainin' about it any."

He lifts an eyebrow, daring her to contradict that.