Work Text:
Following Lola Into Hell.
James helped Garrus walk up the Normandy's gangway, Shepard had called for an emergency evac, and Scars was badly hurt.
"No arguing," she commanded. "I need someone to make it out alive if I should fall. Keep fighting. You both have done me, and everyone, proud."
Shepard finished with a crisp salute.
Scars had been too weak from injury and blood loss to put up a fight. But James had other ideas. He watched his commander make a run for the beam, and in a split second of insane decision, he pushed Garrus inside the bay and hit the control to close the doors.
Leaping from a turned over mako, he made a run for the beam. Through the blood and sweat streaming into his eyes, he scanned the area trying to find her.
Where the hell was she?
The number of soldiers running for the Citadel had dwindled down, bodies strewn in a haphazard path towards the beam.
James frantically pushed his comm, "Shepard—commander, do you read me? What's your position?"
A crackle sounded in his ear, but no Shepard. "Commander. I repeat, what's your—"
James had been cut off by a very angry and exhausted voice. "Vega. Get your ass outta here. It was not a request!"
Balling up is fist, he stood his ground. Commander or no, he was not abandoning her. "All due respect, ma'am, but fuck you. You don't have to do this alone!"
Another Reaper let loose a red laser and James took cover behind a different overturned vehicle. He was off to the sidelines of the path leading to the beam. Instinctively, he took cover, protecting his eyes. The area flashed a brilliant red and explosions were firing in tandem down the pathway.
Everything had gone silent. His body was stunned, immobile, and he couldn't hear—anything.
Several minutes had passed by, he willed his legs to work and pulled himself up. It was then he realized things had not gone silent, he couldn't hear. The last blast must have damaged his eardrums.
Squinting through the dirty, salty sweat burning his eyes, he saw death—nothing but death. Bodies lay randomly all the way to the beam. The Reapers took flight and were leaving the scene. The cocky bastards must've thought they had secured the area.
Stepping out from his protective position, he jogged in the direction Shepard had to have taken. He looked over the bodies, some still barely alive and he felt a sick twinge in his stomach. He couldn't stop. He couldn't save anyone here. Everyone in the galaxy still needed rescuing, and the sacrifices that lay before him were but a minute handful in comparison.
"I'll make you my famous eggs, Lola," he promised as he jogged closer to the beam. "You just stay alive,"
As he approached the white light leading to the Citadel, he noted a marauder with its head blown to bits, still clutching a pistol. Bending down, he grabbed the loaded weapon and clipped it to his belt. His precious assault rifle clips were nearly spent.
With a tight, coiled knot in his chest, he pilfered through two dead soldiers and found a couple extra thermal clips and as luck would have it, a dead soldier's armor vest had frag grenades attached. He secured both to his belt and armor, and said a quiet, quick prayer for the fallen.
Squaring his shoulders, he forcibly strode towards the stream of white light. The beam had a radius pull, and he was warped into the maelstrom by the time he hit the platform.
The ascent through the beam pressed in on his body—stretching his skin like a g-force acceleration. Vomit let loose, expelling stomach acids that burned up his throat and nostrils. …And then—everything went dark.
Her voice was sexy, graveled from sleep and sex. "I'll make ya a deal, James. I won't bring it up as long as you get your ass out of bed and make me some eggs."
He shook his head, nearly making a huge mistake. He was about to take her deal, but then he realized if he had, then proceeding any further with her would be impossible. This amazingly, crazy night would feel cheap, and she didn't deserve that. And although he wasn't quite ready to admit it, he wanted more nights of a lifetime with Shepard.
A small remote lay on the floor next to the bed, and James reached over the side and scooped it up, dimming the day-cycle lights in the room. "Lola, before breakfast, how about a dip in the hot tub?"
Curling her arm around his waist, she blew warm air over his skin and planted a soft kiss on his collar bone. When she raised her head to look at him, her grin was saucy, and mischievous. "Will I still get my eggs?"
Reaching up, he fisted her hair, pulled her head back, and planted a promising kiss on her already swollen lips, remnants of their late night tryst. He spoke against her mouth. "Without a doubt, Lola."
His grin verged on embarrassing. He knew he was treading in waters that could drown him in the abyss—a whirlpool known as Jane Shepard. He was way out of his league, he knew it, but he didn't care – she was worth it.
Releasing her, he abruptly jumped out of the bed and bolted for the bathroom. "Get that hot-ass in here Lola, the water is fine…"
He glanced up to see her in all her naked glory, giving him that mischief smile of hers, and she plunged in, splashing water up the walls and over the edge. When she turned around and thrust her body across the water and into his lap, it was on!
James regained consciousness. Wherever he landed – the pungent odor of blood, rot, and death permeated the air. His hearing hadn't returned, and his muscles burned painfully. In the back of his mind, he worried, though that was the least of his concerns. He had to find Lola. She was here—somewhere.
"So fucking dark," he murmured. "Hey, Commander, you read me?"
Bringing himself up on his knees, he wiped his grimy face with his even filthier hand. "C'mon, commander, you gotta be up here, you—you just have to talk to me, Lola. I'm here."
The comm remained silent, and he planted one foot firmly on the floor, and then the other. Having no idea what part of the Citadel this was, nothing looked familiar, so he started walking.
"Dammit, Shepard. Answer me. I've got your six—always," he promised. "Even if you order me not to. You can chew my ass out after."
Wading through the gore, he began to babble into the comm. "So I had this amazing dream while I was knocked out up here. Our night together was somethin' wasn't it? We're a good fit Lola—a real good fit."
For all he knew, HQ was listening to his frantic confessions. Fuck em'. They could chew his ass out later too.
"I was thinking, we pull out of this alive, maybe you and I can, ya know, go on a real date. My treat."
Walls shifted, startling him. A new corridor opened up and James made a turn, and walked down a new pathway. The steep decline had been easy enough, though, when he had to trek back up, his muscles burned in protest. Gritting his teeth, he pushed on until he came to an expansive area.
A console stood at the far edge of what seemed to be a large platform. Two, no, three bodies. "Mierda!"
Admiral Anderson slumped over, the Illusive man prone, laying in a pool of blood, and Shepard. His blood ran cold—ice traveled through his veins.
He ran.
"Don't you dare be dead, Lola. Don't. You. Dare," he growled desperately.
Just steps away from her body, James watched a small platform detach itself, and her still form was being lifted from the floor. James leaped, landing on top of her. Together, they were raised, floating to a new level of the Citadel.
She was covered in blood—her blood. He could see a bullet wound in her arm, and the smell of burnt synthetics, armor and flesh assaulted his senses. She was in bad shape.
She's survived worse.
James wrapped his arms around Jane's waist, his grip like a lifeline, for the both of them.
"Lola—Shepard, c'mon, wake up!"
She barely stirred, but he'd take any sign of life. Activating his omni-tool, he scanned her vital signs. Her pulse was slow, and her body temperature was too low.
Blood loss. A lot, damn.
"Wake your sexy-ass up, commander. You're not dying on me. You get me?" he ordered, mixed with a plea.
Gazing at her face, he watched her eyes and mouth, hoping for any recognition to hearing his voice. He had no idea how he sounded; his hearing still impaired.
The small platform stopped, locking into another level.
Assessing the new area, James murmured. "Shit commander—we're not in Kansas anymore."
Bloodied lips pulled into a half grin, and Shepard mouthed something. "Dammit," he cursed his lack of hearing.
"Don't try and move. I've got three medi-gel deliveries left," he explained. "I'll patch up this hole in your arm first, then the major burn down your back."
A burn like that could cause more trouble than her gunshot wound. Infection could quickly set in the damaged flesh, but the steady stream of bleeding had him just as worried. After the second delivery of medi-gel, she took in a deep breath, relief, he assumed.
"I'm saving the third delivery," he informed her. Grinning, he added. "Because with you around, we're bound to need it."
Her mouth moved again, and he gently placed a finger over her lips. "I can't hear, commander. Nothing—nadda. Seems the blast from the reaper damaged my ears—"
James was cut off by a ghostly child walking towards them. The shimmering boy seemed familiar, but from where?
James grabbed onto Shepard as she got up on hands and knees. He wished now more than ever for his hearing to return.
What had it said to her?
Ghost-boy had Shepard talking, her posture still sagged, and James went to her side and placed a supportive hand at her elbow, she leaned in on him slightly
Agitation formed hard lines on the commander's face. Ghost-boy walked off down an aisle, and Shepard nodded her head for James to follow.
More arguing. Jane had that righteous glare, her hands animated while she spoke.
Never having read lips in his life, he still tried, but as he watched, he realized it was useless. She could be singing one of Mordin's show tunes, for all he could discern.
Memories came flooding in—the boy—Shepard had watched a young boy outside her window from HQ. This thing took on an image, one that caused her grief. She'd watched that same boy get blown up just as a kodiak lifted off in a rescue effort.
It was fucking with her, playing on her emotions—her self-imposed failures. Bastard!
"Shepard," James yelled out, pulling her attention away from, It.
"It's messin' with you commander. Look," he said pointing. "The boy that died—It knows your weaknesses. Don't give in to them!"
Jane pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. Shaking her head, she looked into James' eyes, and back down to ghost-boy. James had no idea what she'd said to it, but she squared her shoulders and raised her pistol, walking toward the three strange contraptions at the end of the aisle.
James fell into step beside her, and pulled Mattock up off his shoulder. They were obviously about to do some damage.
Shepard stopped and at the junction, just before the three contraptions. James watched her face carefully, seeing clearly, a war of indecision over her features.
Holding up his arm, he activated his omni-tool. "Shepard, key in what these things are, tell me what we're facing here."
Her expression told him this was going to be bad—really bad. She lifted her good arm and pointed to the contraption that glowed blue. She explained using his omni-tool that choosing that one would allow her to control the Reapers. Then the second, a creepy fusion between synthetics and organics, and finally, a chance to end this all by destroying every single synthetic in the galaxy.
Only one choice was clear to James, though Shepard looked as if she wasn't sure.
"Commander," he addressed and pulled her attention back to him. "You can't seriously be debating this. We can't play some sort of god here. We don't have the right. These things are here to destroy without the ability of reason."
She keyed in another sentence on his omni.
General text: EDI and the Geth will die.
He swallowed hard, thinking about EDI and Joker. Strange as their relationship might be—they seemed happy together. Then a thought came flooding back to him, something Javik had said.
You cannot evolve as organics do. You can only modify your programming, this does not make you…alive.
As much as he may hate to admit it, James agreed with the grouchy, narrow minded Prothian.
Slowly, James raised his arm and pointed to the orange glowing device. "We're not gods, Shepard."
She looked between him and the device once more and sadly nodded her head.
"Together, Lola?" he asked. "Following you into hell, is my thing, ya know."
She grinned at that, and gave him a peck on the cheek. He blushed slightly.
Damn her.
Side by side, they turned off to the right, and once the contraption was straight ahead, James pulled Mattock into place, and Shepard lined up her pistol.
"On the count of three!" James shouted.
Methodically, they fired shot after shot in quick succession. James stopped, placed a hand in front of Shepard to halt her steps and let off all three frag grenades, expertly landing them right under the device.
Fire erupted like a backdraft. James watched as Shepard kept pressing on. Two long strides, he grabbed her around the waist, and she was still firing her gun!
"It's gonna blow, Lola!" he yelled.
She continued to manically fire her pistol, even after her clip emptied. He lifted her up from around her waist and flung her over his shoulder, making his way back with preternatural speed, and diving for cover.
Out of the corner of his eye, James noticed the small platform unlocked and sunk away from the floor. He veered off towards the small lift that brought him and Jane up here. By the time he got to the edge, the platform had already lowered a few meters.
No time to think, he dropped Jane to her feet and pressed her body against his and leapt! Turning midair, he assured she would land on him, rather than under him, safely padding her fall. He could more easily take the weight of her body, than she could in her physical state, landing on the hard surface.
He felt, rather than heard the thud his body made on impact. They both witnessed the explosion overhead through the small rectangular opening above.
"That was a near miss, Lola," he whispered in her ear.
Her body relaxed on his, and she held onto his hands that were secured around her waist.
When they finally stopped, Jane rolled off him, and clumsily got to her feet.
James pulled himself up, and he knew he had a few broken ribs. Straightening and breathing, a sharp, white hot pain seared through his sides.
Gracelessly, Jane made her way over to Anderson and knelt beside his still form. James watched as she closed his eyelids and gave the old soldier a tired salute. Her lips were moving, and in that single moment, he was glad he couldn't hear, knowing this was a very private moment for Jane.
When she unceremoniously plopped down on the floor, he finally walked over to her, and lowered himself to sit by her side.
Leaning in, James asked, "Any idea how we get off this broken hunk of metal?"
She shrugged.
"Okay then," he began. "Since I can't hear shit, how about you use my omni-tool and try and contact someone?"
Just then, an orange light exploded, stretching from the Citadel and through the sky. James wrapped an arm around Jane, and held her tightly to his side. "Lola, what the fuck did we just do?"
Again, she shrugged.
"I get it," he murmured. "I can't hear, but shit, Lola, did we just end the world?"
Shepard locked eyes with James, and all he saw was sheer terror. "What? What is it!" he asked with a panic.
Jane fell back, and went into a seizure - her skin cracked and glowed, and he could see her screaming.
"Oh hell no—no way is this happening."
Violent flailing and more screaming, James was at a loss. He covered her body with his own, restraining her thrashing about.
He hummed a lullaby his abuela used to sing, whispered nonsense, and sometime later the orange light had dissipated, and broken ships drifted by, along with ones still intact.
When Shepard stilled underneath him, he rolled off her to examine any damage she may had done. But it wasn't damage she'ddone to herself. His best guess, her cybernetic implants had been damaged by the explosion. How, he had no clue.
Lighting up his omni-tool, James sent out a distress call.
"This is Lieutenant James Vaga of the Alliance Marines. I have Lieutenant Commander, Jane Shepard of the Alliance Navy with me. We are stranded on the Citadel.
"I am locking in my twenty with a GPS signal. Bring a medical evac. Commander Shepard is badly hurt.
"Eight to ten breaths per minute – blood pressure, ninety over fifty – unresponsive – pupils not fixed and dilated.
"I can't hear, so don't ask me a bunch of shit. Just. Get. Here. Now!"
James set his message to loop and settled in next to Jane. Exhaustion settled in and he nodded off while gently holding her to him.
Groggily, James woke to the sound of an engine purr. Squinting, he could see the unmistakable lights of a kodiac in flight. Stopping the looped message on his omni-tool, he locked in their position and sent out a new message.
"Sending up a flare. Hope you are the rescue team!"
James didn't really have a flare, but he could improvise. He overloaded his Mattock and when she was about to overheat, he let loose a shot in the air away from the kodiac. The round hit metal far above them and exploded.
Seeing the voice wave patterns over his omni-tool, James rolled his eyes. "What part of, I can't hear, did you all misunderstand?"
Idiots
After landing, six marines piled out of the rescue craft with two stretchers and two large bags, James assumed to be medical equipment.
"Her first," James instructed. "She's stable'ish. But far worse off."
James watched as a young man around his own age, and an older woman, maybe in her late thirties, carefully put a neck brace on Shepard, checked her vitals, and then moved her onto the stretcher. They strapped her in and two other men carried her off into the kodiac.
The same two that looked over Jane, were now poking and prodding him. He could see the man's mouth moving and looking directly at James.
He rolled his eyes. "Can't hear amigo," he pointed out and tapped his left ear.
After the customary vitals, James helped move things along. "I have some broken ribs. Breathing hurts, but not labored."
The woman nodded her head, and turned away from James. The two men that carried Jane into the kodiac came back for him.
"I can probably walk," he said with stupid pride. "Matter of fact, I will walk."
He knew he was being a bit of an ass, but his worries extended beyond his broken bones. Jane slept through being moved, which could be exhaustion or more. Much more.
Struggling to stand, suddenly, James felt a prickle and stinging near his bum that made him jump. "Joder! What the h…"
His vision blurred and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. "No—t cool," he slurred.
Feeling his body shift with no ability to struggle had been disconcerting. All he could do was leer at the female medic walking by his side as he was carried off on the stretcher. And she winked at him. Cocky medic with the power of narcotics was hardly playing fair.
That was all he could remember about leaving the broken Citadel. When he woke again, he was in an underground bunker, made up as a makeshift hospital. His ribs were taped tightly and his shirt was, well, not on him.
In too tight clothing, and dat-ass! Shepard's friend Miranda sauntered over. He couldn't miss that bouncing, bubble butt from miles away.
He'd only met her once on Horizon when Miranda's egomaniacal father and the Illusive man were running experiments on organics, turning them into reaper forces under the guise of a refuge called, Sanctuary. It had been some crazy, messed up shit, but the father was killed by Shepard's former XO, and they safely rescued her sister.
Miranda handed him a data pad, and stood casually while he read it.
I've already been informed you are unable to hear. Shepard is in surgery. I heard over the limited comm channels that she was alive, and knew this hospital would be their first choice to bring her.
With my extensive files on Shepard's reconstruction, they've been able to repair some of her implants. Those more extensively damaged have been taken offline until we can replace them.
She will make a full recovery.
Nice work Lieutenant. Your quick work of medi-gel over her burns and gunshots wounds likely saved her life. Although, rumor has it, she is going to be pissed off once she comes to and clear headed. You went against orders. I don't envy you.
James looked up at a smirking, genetically perfected face. Not able to hide his grin, he said. "I'll take the ass chewing, but she won't have me court-martialed," he said but then frowned, unsure if his assessment was correct. "Would she?"
Miranda pulled the data pad from his grip and tapped out a new message, handing it back for him to read.
Not if you're as good as her blush indicated when I asked her about you.
James' grin grew wide. "I'm not goin' anywhere."
ƸӜƷ
Six months later, and his hearing again at one hundred percent, James stood in parade rest while his N7 instructor reamed their asses over the cadets test scores. They had all passed the physical endurance test with flying colors, but a few scored low on technical training, and they were all paying for it.
His N7 commander was a hard-ass, and he loved her all the more for it.
Now, Major Jane Shepard had been appointed as the CO and head training officer of the newly formed N7 Academy.
Lieutenant commander, Vega was getting his cojones handed to him on a daily basis, but he took all she could delve out, and begged for more.
Lola had been grounded. Even with Miranda's connections, and the replacement of her implants, she was not ready for space. After a month as the CO of the N7 military institute, she decided she was where she belonged.
The cadets had Saturday and Sundays free. Lola Vega rented a small apartment just outside of the base. When James saw her fake ID, it was like everything fell into place for him.
"How about we make that fake name, real?" he asked less than romantically. When she hadn't answered, he considered telling her he was just messin' around.
But he wasn't.
"Okay, that sucked," he admitted.
James stood and walked in front of Lola. When he bent on one knee, she began to laugh. "I'd rather you pour two ice cold beers for us, and ask me over a witty toast."
He jumped up and practically ran over to the fridge, grabbing two beers. In the freezer they kept frosty cold mugs, and he carefully poured each beer, not to create too much foam.
When he returned, he handed her the lager and asked again. "Would you do me the honor of kicking my ass until I am the best N7 graduate in all history, and be my wife?"
"No," she said flatly. "You will never be the top N7 graduate. Would you do that to your new bride?"
James considered that for a moment. "Can we at least tie?"
"Deal," she agreed with a huge grin. "But my medals get the top shelf of the display case."
James took the beer from her hand and with strong arms, he scooped her up and walked into the bedroom they shared on the weekends.
"I'm good with that," he said as he undressed her. "I get to have sex with the savior of the galaxy, and you get, me."
Those sexy, sweet little moans she made when he kissed her now bare skin elicited a fire in his belly. "Maybe we can make a couple future N7 recruits."
She stilled and he mildly panicked. Shit, he really should have fielded that one first.
Suddenly, she rolled him over and settled herself over his hips. She began to roll her warm center over his obvious desire. When she bent over him, her soft breast pressing against his chest, he moaned and tried to pull her in closer.
Her mouth moved over his skin. Up his neck, and stopped at his ear, nipping the lobe. "Two, and don't think just because you are a big, sexy beefcake, that gets you off diaper duty."
James rolled her back over, and poised to enter her, he teased by pulling back when she rose her hips to meet his. "Do we start now?" he asked, still teasing her with his arousal.
"It won't work unless we do something about it," she said with a tone of humor. "Well?"
They made love that night, twice. The birth control lay abandoned in the en-suite. Images of Lola pregnant and kicking her cadets' asses was comical, and hot!
"Love ya, Lola," he said sleepily.
"Back at ya, Beefcake."