A/N: This is my first time writing for the Mass Effect fandom and I'm a little nervous. There is so many good writers for this fan base and I feel a little apprehensive.

Please give my fic a chance, it's just some simple one shots on the crews opinions of Shepard. Time periods ranging from ME2 to ME3.



Shepard moved with a grace Samara had never seen in someone else before. Confident ease and sure footed poise. Her red hair graced her jaw bones, accentuating her jawbones elegantly, bright green eyes framed by dark lashes looked out on the world with pride and calculated admiration. Lately she spent large sums of time thinking about Shepard, more time that she'd like to admit. But to Samara it didn't really matter, time wasn't of the essence. She'd met many people throughout her hundreds of years but never one as mysterious as Shepard.

Or was she really that mysterious? At moments it was almost as if you could read Shepard's face like a book, every thought, every feeling etched across the pale, slightly scarred plane. One of these times was during combat. Shepard's determination was never questioned, firm lips and steely eyes were merciless and ruthless yet something in them held extreme sadness and loss.

It was those moments in which Samara wished she could reach out to Shepard, coaxing every pain and festering wound that lay in the wreckage of her past and listen to those secret, unheard words.

But as soon as that vulnerable, precious face was displayed it vanished. Replaced instantly with the cool, impassive diplomatic face of reason and justice.

Samara had her fair share of secrets and she knew she wasn't the only one aboard the Normandy who had a skeleton or two in their closets; it was just something about Shepard's secrets that made her curious beyond reason.

What kind of problems could she be facing? What hurt could shine so purely even the galaxies greatest hero would surrender to it's pain? Samara knew it was selfish but sometimes she just wanted Shepard all to herself.

She hadn't had friends, the Code hadn't allowed her to have friends, but now . . . the idea of friendship actually seemed attainable. It was often infuriating, watching her risk her neck for so many people, yet she knew it needed to be done. Quietly Samara wondered if after this hell was over if maybe her and the Commander could just sit down and talk. She didn't even care if they were both beaten and bloodied if they could just sit down, in peace and quite and share secrets and stories, she'd be satisfied.

Samara wanted to be the one who Shepard first told her secrets to. Shepard's worries and insecurities, she wanted to be the first to hear such tender information yet she had no idea how to approach this with the Commander.

Samara looked out on the empty, star speckled void of space, allowing her eyes to open. Never in her life had she been this bold, she'd always remained a loyal servant of the Code; never toeing the line of duty and servitude.

Her pale blue orbs scanned the vast emptiness of the endless cosmos and smiled, she was no longer a grunt of the Code. Although she didn't know it yet, Commander Shepard had opened so many doors for her, possibilities before she would have never granted herself.

For so long she'd never even considered the possibility of her happiness, she had been satisfied with living in this hell for the rest of her life, serving and killing. But now, things seemed so much different, she had friends now, team mates who would risk themselves for her and deep down that felt good.

So with new purpose, and her proposition for Shepard burning on the tip of her tongue she stood. She wanted to connect with others, share her pain and take the burden of others, and she'd be dammed if she wasn't going to get to know Shepard better before she signed her life away!

Heels clicked down the hall, each step rupturing down the hall like gunfire. Shepard was in the mess, humming under her breath as she waited for her grilled cheese to fry.

"Shepard." Samara called, stopping in front of the counter, heart racing.

Shepard looked over her shoulder, surprise inked across her face, "Samara?"

Samara rolled back her shoulders, preparing herself, "I have a proposition for you."

Shepard turned fully now, giving the beautiful asari her full attention, curvy brows raised, "what is it?"

"If we're to survive this suicide mission I would like to talk with you."

Something flickered across Shepard's green irises, "what would you like to talk about?"

Samara swallowed thickly, "you."

Please review and let me know if you would like to see more.

Thank you.

3 Suicidal