A Collection Of Mass Effect One Shots

Through the Looking Glass

A/N This was inspired through my own ideas in my head and from online sites... I picked this particular book because I used to read it non stop when I was little. I hope you enjoy! :)

Prompt~ Simply Zaeed and FemShep reading a book (Non-Canon romance, set in Me3, I really don't care if the time doesn't make sense)

Commander Shepard stands in her small captains cabin and runs a single petite finger over her dusty bookshelf. She hasn't read in.. A while? She isn't sure anymore. When she had been a part of Cerberus and taking on the Collectors she had read every night, but now that she was in the Alliance and taking down the Reapers she had not had any time recently. The layers of dust reflected that.

She looks at book titles on her shelf. A ton of them from her younger years that she often liked to look back at. Charlotte's Web, Tom Sawyer, Little Women, Holes, Through the Looking Glass. Through the Looking Glass, that was her favorite. She reaches out and barely brushes the spine of the book. She finally reaches out and takes it from her shelf with care. It had definetley seen better days. Her mom had used to read this book to her when she was little, in fact it was the only thing Shepard had from her mother. She had grabbed it just before the batarian slavers had killed everyone.

Shepard sits down, book still in her hands. She flips it over in her hands and blows the dust from it. She wipes at it, trying to clean it up. The pages were littered with dog tagged pages. On the cover she could barely make out the title, but she could make out Alice, standing and looking at Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Humpty Dumpty was posed on the word 'Looking'.

She wipes a wisp of red hair out of her face and continues to stare down at the book, mesmorized. It was the only thing she had left of her mom. She flipped open to one of the first pages and found a poem. The same poem that Shepard used to keep written down on a piece of paper in her pocket.

"Child of the pure unclouded brow. And dreaming eyes of wonder! Though time be fleet, and I and thou. Are half a lifeasunder, The loving smile will surely hail. The love-gift of a fairy-tale.''  Shepard runs a finger over the words on the paper and continues to stay silent.

''What are ya reading, love?'' Zaeed asks from the doorway where he was standing. He was leaning against her doorframe, his head tilted. She hadn't heard him come in.

Shepard looks up at him and a small grin escapes her lips.

''Just... This book...'' She closes the cover and sets it aside, almost reluclantly.

Zaeed makes his way over and picks up the book gently, examining it. He too turns it over in his hands.

''Through the Looking Glass, eh?'' Zaeed studies her face.

Shepard hopes that he doesn't make fun of her, that book meant a lot to her. Zaeed takes a seat next to her, book still in hand.

''What part were you reading when I walked in?'' Zaeed hands the book back to Shepard so she can show him the page.

Shepard is relived that Zaeed didn't crack a joke, which he often did. Shepard opens the book to the poem page and Zaeed squints and looks forward, his eyesight was not as good as it used to be. Zaeed uses a wry finger as a pointer and he soflty murmurs the next stansa of the poem.

''I have not seen thy sunny face, Nor heard thy silver laughter; No thought of me shall find a place, In thy young life's hereafter -- Enough that now thou wilt not fail, To listen to my fairy-tale,'' Zaeed's gruff voice finishes and he glances over at Shepard.

She is silent, and looking downwards.

''Shep,'' He asks, setting a hand on her shoulder. ''Are you okay?''

Shepard breaks out of her mini trans and looks up at the older man with mismatched yes.

''It's... Just... My mom and I used to read this together all the time, and now she's gone. I haven't read this with anyone in ages.'' She shook her head. ''It's stupid, a stupid piece of sentimental crap.''

''It's not stupid, love.'' Zaeed looks at her seriously. ''It's good that you remember her.''

''Says the big tough mercenary,'' Shepard says sadly.

''Hey,'' Zaeed says running a finger down her jawline. ''Here.''

Zaeed hands her the book and points to the next stansa.

''Read me this.''

Shepard sighs, but takes the book from his hands softly.

''A tale begun in other days, When summer suns were glowing-- A simple chime, that served to time, The rhythm of our rowing-- Whose echoes live in memory yet, Though envious years would say 'forget','' She finishes and looks up at Zaeed, wondering what he was trying to get too.

Zaeed stands up and grabs a medium sized fleece blanket. Shepard tilts her head.

''What are you doing, Massani?'' She asks, book still in hand.

''We're gonna read, Shepard.'' Zaeed smirks.

''Read?'' Shepard asks, a bit surprised.

''It seems like this means a lot to you, and I want to spend some time with you, today... So, why not?''

Shepard gives him a quizzical look and looks back down at the book.

''Really?'' Shepard says, her eyes shining a bit.

''Yes, really, now scoot up a bit so you can lean on dear old Zaeed.''

Shepard leaned upward a bit and Zaeed sat in the corner of the leather couch, Shepard leaned back on him and opened the book again. They continued to read back and forth. Zaeed leans forward and kisses the girls cheek.

''Thanks, Zaeed, it meant a lot.'' Shepard looks back at the old mans scarred face.

''No worries, love. Anything for you.'' Zaeed buries his face in her red hair and kisses her neck softly.

***

Child of the pure unclouded brow
And dreaming eyes of wonder!
Though time be fleet, and I and thou
Are half a life asunder,
Thy loving smile will surely hail
The love-gift of a fairy-tale.

I have not seen thy sunny face,
Nor heard thy silver laughter;
No thought of me shall find a place
In thy young life's hereafter--
Enough that thou wilt not fail
To listen to my fairy-tale.

A tale begun in other days,
When summer suns were glowing--
A simple chime, that served to time
The rhythm of our rowing--
Whose echoes live in memory yet,
Though envious years would say 'forget'.

Come, hearken then, ere voice of dread,
With bitter tidings laden,
Shall summon to unwelcome bed
A melancholy maiden!
We are but older children, dear,
Who fret to find our bedtime near.

Without, the frost, the blinding snow,
The storm-wind's moody madness--
Within, the firelight's ruddy glow
And childhood's nest of gladness.
The magic words shall hold thee fast:
Thou shalt not not heed the raving blast.

And though the shadow of a sigh
May tremble through the story,
For 'happy summer days' gone by,
And vanish'd summer glory--
It shall not touch with breath of bale
The pleasance of our fairy-tale.

~ ''Through the Looking Glass''
Lewis Carroll