It wasn’t like the commander to be insecure. Since their introduction on Earth, Jenna had been anything but unsure of the threat looming over the galaxy. She had been aware of the odds from the very beginning but no one dared listen to the woman who had saved hundreds of thousands of lives time and time again.
A single beat passed between the soldiers after James had brushed the raven locks from amber hues when Shepard stepped into him, her arms sliding around his waist. There was no hesitation in the lieutenant’s response as he gently wrapped his massive arms around her frame, his right cheek comfortably resting on the top of her head.
“I know,” he breathed.
It was entirely too warm, too comforting, this embrace. It almost felt wrong to be this comforted; millions of people were dying all around her, and yet here she stands, content.
It made her sick.
After what felt like an eternity of warm silence, she spoke up. “I’m sorry, James. You shouldn’t have to see me like this.” A crew was only as strong as their Commander, after all, and Jenna had never felt more weak.
