November 11th, 2187. 5:37am. London, in a small apartment.
Samantha was awake. She was thinking, again. Today was the 269th anniversary of the end of the First World War. Definitely not the most memorable of events, given by the extremely long time to forget, and in light of recent events, wasn't a particularly favourable subject to talk about. Though, it still had significance to the woman, who was staring blankly at the ceiling in the dim of the streetlights outside.
Two-hundred and sixty-nine years to remember the sacrifice of millions of people as they fought for their freedom. Hmph. Sounds a lot like what the entire galaxy has just done. At least this time it might stay in history books for a little bit longer. And only one name would be repeated throughout those tomes.
Horatia Shepard. Commander Shepard. Shepard. A name that would twist in Sam's stomach, a name that would cause an ache in her chest, a name that wouldn't be whispered in pleasure and longing again. A name, if mentioned in passing, that would cause her to think of what might have been with her.
A typical girl's dream. Getting married in a gorgeous frock to a gorgeous groom, moving into their house with the white picket fence, adopting the golden retriever, and the two girls. All in all, just an average cushy life. But they were more than just a fantasy for her. Shepard had wanted that too. She had stated that she was planning on an early retirement, anyways. She never did retire.
She had gone in a blaze of blue, with luminous beams coming from every which way. Whatever she had done up there had scared off the Reapers so much that they followed her every command. As if she were in control. Now they were helping the entire galaxy, from rebuilding cities, to repairing the mass relays, and making everyone's lives a whole lot more easier. And awkward.
Sam was still terrified of them, dreading the moment when the auras of azure went out around their bodies and started attacking everyone again. She was so terrified, in fact, that she barely went outside, and had to rely on her friends and co-workers to deliver information, food, and even company. She hated being dependant on everyone, like she clung to them like limpets, but she couldn't face those... things, that were practically outside her front door. If only Shepard were here, she lamented, as she turned to go back to sleep, but to no avail.
Her life was shit, and everyone could see that.
AN:
That feel when you write a post-ME3 fanfic 3 years after the game comes out. But let me explain!
Ok, so I didn't get into Mass Effect until only a few months back, and I asked my mum to get me the first game. But lo and behold, she got me ALL THREE. Hoo-boy, I said. And what a splendid fucking series it was. This series practically changed my life, in more ways than one. I came out of my shy shell and made a few friends, I'm more into my regular cadet regime (yes, I go to cadets, what a hoot) and my life is just generally better. In short, I love it! And especially when I got to Mass Effect 3, as single as they come, and laid eyes upon Samantha Traynor. What a babe she was. I romanced the heck out of her through the game, and I have never loved a character more. When the idea for this fanfic came about, I was kind of depressed as I'd just finished the game, and all I could think about was Sam being alone in the shower, and I felt fucking awful. So here it is! And if you couldn't tell by the title and the little references in this prologue, I chose the Control ending.
Sorry about the lack of dialogue and the literal up-chuck of internal monologue, but I wanted to set up the story in Sam's state of mind, to get a feel of the story to come
Please R&R, and thanks for reading!