Author notes: This is the first fanfiction piece that I have ever written/published. Enjoy! - J.B
Chapter I: Ghosts
Shepard woke up abruptly, adrenaline pumping in his veins and the blaring of Reaper sirens in his ears. His vision was cloudy and before his eyes, an inferno and the bodies mutilated by the Geth under Harbinger's command.
Then. Silence. A puff of wind cooling his sweaty back and a soft hand on his left shoulder.
"Did it happen again?" a soft female voice, sleepy, with an australian accent. Shepard reached around with his right hand, grasped Miranda's hand gently but firmly. He could feel his eyes water, but no tears were shed. He looked out the panoramic windows that overlooked the skyline of Ilium's capital Nos Astra. A band of shuttles travelling across the city formed moving ribbon of light above the pristine but deceiving city. Shepard took a heavy breath and laid down in the luxurious pearl-white bedsheets. Miranda cozied up beside him, laying her head between his head and shoulder. Her scent was pleasant, he thought, but fleeting as he could feel dark thoughts trying to rip him from this reality. Before his conciousness began its journey into a dreamscape, he could hear the words that haunted him day and night.
Now you are alone, Shepard
The sun was on the rise, reminiscent of a sunrise on Earth. Shepard woke up at seven-thirty, alone in the spacious bed of the exclusive apartment. He could hear the clattering of utensils from the kitchen and whispered curse words. He sat on the bedside for a few minutes, trying hard not to think about the nightmares and interrupted sleep. He put on his ultramarine bathrobe hanging by the bedside and walked out into the kitchen to find Miranda all dressed and struggling with a dish similar to an omelette.
"Hey," Shepard said quietly, walked up behind her, and kissed her neck. Miranda sighed pleasantly
"I'll never get the hang of this," she said. "Why can't I be like normal people in even the simplest of situation. Can't even cook a bloody...whatever this is..."
Shepard chuckled and walked over to the refridgerator and took out a jar of green juice.
"It's because nothing about our lives is normal. No matter how much we pretend," Shepard said with a smile. Mirandra looked at the mess on the stove and back at Shepard. She chuckled same as he. Shepard took a sip of the green liquid and looked at the sunrise. His smile faded.
"You know I wish there was something I could do for you," Miranda said, noting a hint of melancholy. "We...you went through hell, and back, and even though the John I know is tough as nails..." she paused and walked up to him, took his right hand and rubbed it tenderly. "...even he has limits."
Shepard didn't let his vision, fixed on the horizon, slip. He felt Mirandas hand caressing his, but her warmth was fleeting.
"It's hard. Trying to fathom all the darkness that seeps out into my conciousness. I am aware of my condition; but powerless to stop it," Shepard said. Miranda remained silent.
"I think I'm getting worse too. I keep hearing him, it, Harbinger. Even saying its name fills me with dread. After so many years, this irrational fear of a demon defeated and destroyed," Shepard continued without moving a muscle.
"You compartmenalized, we all did. It was bound to erupt at some point. Point is, you're not a lost cause!" Miranda said.
"Perhaps not, but I can't face this much longer without losing my mind completely," Shepard said with a twitch in his abdomen, as if losing balance.
"You're not alone in this. I will dedicate my life to helping you," Miranda said.
"Why?" Shepard said and turned to her. "You're the most intelligent, cunning and brillant person I have ever met. Why waste all that potential on a crippled mind?" Miranda's lower lip shook for a split second, and she was seldom prone to involuntary physical reactions.
"Because I love you," she whispered, as if to herself. "And because I've spent the better part of my life in a world of rational thought, cunning and science. If I could use all that potential for bad, using it for good to help one of the few people I deeply care about seems like a good idea!" she said. Shepard sat down by the kitchen table and put his elbows on the table, letting his face sink into his cupped hands. Miranda walked up behind him and put her arms around him, giving him a hug.
"I wouldn't know what to do without you," Shepard said and sighed. Miranda saw a few droplets fall onto the frosted glass pane and held Shepard tighter.
The office of Alan Worth, one of few human psychologists on Illium was located far from the glamorous towering skyline of central Nos Astra. His residential estate where he received his patients was modest, modern, bright and inviting. It was of an appealing design, meshing Asari aestethics with Human functionality. Shepard arrived alone via shuttle service, dressed in a casual green jacket and beige fatigues. Alan had no doubt been given notice of his imminent arrival and came walking across the marbled courtyard to greet him. He was an older man, wrinkled but in no way decrepit. He wore a casual beige outfit, spartan but certainly tailored specifically for him.
"John!" he exclaimed. His casual, loud approach was appealing to Shepard.
"Mr. Worth," he greeted him back and shook his hand.
"Please, come inside, come inside! I trust the trip was to your satisfaction? Way out here we don't see many humans!"
"Pleasant enough. The landscape is fantastic," Shepard said and looked around the evergreen garden of both foreign and familiar flora. They walked across the marble courtyard and the shuttlecraft whizzed away and soon the surrounding birds and insects were the only audible sounds except for Alan's excited nasal voice.
"I must say, when I got the appointment schedule from my assisstant, seeing your name was quite unexpected. What brings you to Illium?" Alan asked in a more reserved voice.
"Anonymity," Shepard said. "The galaxy is big, but I figured this is the place to go truly unnoticed,"
"Yes, indeed. Illium is many things but foremost a sprawl where you can truly immerse yourself in everything the galaxy has to offer," Alan said. "Let us get you comfortable," he said and they entered the estate.
Alan's office was modern, spacious and bright. The panoramic windows behind the white desk in the center overlooked the courtyard and the surrounding lush gardens. The left-hand wall was covered by a massive dark wooden vintage bookshelf. The right-hand side had two bright beige armchairs facing each other. Alan pointed to the one facing the panoramic windows.
"Please, take a seat," he told Shepard then activated a discrete omni-tool on his sleeve and the windows started to darken slightly. He sat down oppositr Shepard, leaned in toward him and let his two hands touch by the fingertips.
"John Shepard. Hero of the Skyllian Blitz and the reason we're all alive, really. What is it that brings you to visit an old man in exile on a world of excess and wealth?"
"I've hesitated, you know. Seeing someone to deal with the aftermath of such an endeavour, a mission of such scope that it seems unfathomable at times, has been hard," Shepard explained, never meeting Alan's eyes. Alan leaned back, and his almost youthful mannerisms were all gone.
"You lose track of yourself, committing yourself to become something greater and leave your sense of self behind. I did that, I locked my true self away one too many times trying to brace for what was ahead of us, the next mission, the next tragic loss of life," Shepard said, emptiness in his eyes.
"And your sense of self? Has it returned?" Alan asked calmly. Shepard shook his head subtly.
"I don't know. Sometimes...maybe," he said. "I have these episodes, nightmares and blackouts,"
"Have you ever hurt yourself during these...episodes or blackouts?" Alan asked. Shepard could hear the honest compassion in his voice. It helped keep the tears back. He shook his head. "I fear I might, either myself or Miranda,"
"Miranda?" Alan asked. Shepard sat quiet for a moment. Alan poured a glass of water from an ornate pitcher and handed it to Shepard. He took a small sip.
"She is my one point of reference to what is real," Shepard said quietly.
"A partner," Alan said. Shepard nodded.
"I am aware that having a partner as some sort of guarantee for your mental well-being is a no-no," Shepard said, his eyes opened up wide, "But she is all I have now. We live our isolated life away from it all,"
Alan took notes on his omni-tool and adjusted his position in the armchair. "These nightmares, what are they about?"
"Harbinger," Shepard said.
"Harbinger?" Alan asked. Shepard was surprised. He had lived so intertwined with the fate of the Reapers, the mere thought that someone didn't know what Harbinger was like a revelation. He could see the final stretch toward the Conduit in London before his eyes. In the distance, Harbinger towering over the destruction. He shook his head and the flashback ended.
"Harbinger was the...Reaper...that led the assault on Earth. It was also the puppeteer behind the 'Collector' threat," Shepard explained. Alan took notes.
"Why is it the focal point of your nightmares," Alan asked.
"I've been trying to figure that out. But all my reasoning seems to be dead ends these days," Shepard said.
"Can it perhaps be so that because this Harbinger figure seems to have been at the center of enemy activity for so long, it acts as a representation of your fears?" Alan asked. Shepard thought long and hard about it. He'd been afraid that exposure to the Reaper's indoctrination might have played a role in his mental state. That he was slowly deteriorating to become a husk. But he had never thought of Harbinger as a mere ghost, a figure to represent his mind bulging under severe mental and physical stress.
"Perhaps," Shepard answered, reserved but cautiously optimistic. Alan took note of his response.
"Know this; feeling this way is not unique. Although the circumstances triggering you are, and that is what we have to get to the heart of if I'm to be successful in treating you," Alan said with a smile. He stood up and held out a hand to Shepard who took it and came to his feet.
"Thank you for listening to me," Shepard said. "It took me a while to get this far, but it feels like I've started on a path to something good."
"It is often a long journey, but as long as you take the time to gaze inward with no fear of what you'll find, I am confident we'll put you on the right path, son," Alan said and put a wrinkled hand on Shepard shoulder.