They call to me. I can almost feel a voice slithering its way into my mind. Haunting my nights, keeping sleep at bay. But they keep me company. They're but an echo, fading …
"We have no beginning. We have no end. We are infinite. Millions of years after your civilization has been eradicated and forgotten, we will endure."
The whispers crescendo, truly cacophonic –no, symphonic ! I can make out the words; the truth ! Every night …
"You have only delayed the inevitable. We do not die."
The words comfort me.
"You resist. But you will fail. It is inevitable."
Rise.
"There is no war. There is only the Harvest."
Rise.
"We are the Harbinger of your destiny."
Rise. Rise. Rise. Rise. Rise.
They drown out the false cheers and my own anguished cries join. They are still with me. In the void, their song has reached me:
"The Cycle will continue."
The room was quiet, save an occasional spark from exposed wiring. The flickering revealed the extent of the damage. What should have been a pristine laboratory was equipment spilled all over. Shattered glass and instruments, chairs knocked and with broken legs as discarded makeshift weapons … Overturned tables were stacked against the only door; a desperate last ditch effort to keep something out.
To stay alive.
Some of the survivors' bodies lay in pools of their fluids. Others, in the strobe light, created a baroque sculpture out of their grotesque forms. The effigy of mangled corpses cast shadows at impossible angles, and on their lifeless faces, frozen screams, eternal and silent; an unending tale of terror and suffering.
A lone figure lay slumped across a terminal, its faint blue glow creeping from beneath the dead. The body twitched before falling over. Sounds of rending bone and the squelching of open wounds filled the room. The demented tower rocked gently once the holographic interface was completely uncovered. In the new light, a single shadow grew, shrouding the slaughtered in a final atrocity. With an unheard gasp, as if life breathed into the room one last time; the shade was alone.
It turned its attention to the light.
Curious, a singular digit tentatively reached for the interface. The serene blue light turned crimson in protest.
Access to Classified Files Denied.
The words flashed across the screen and the malformation froze. In an awkward spasm of frustration, it prodded the interface again, determined, but to no effect. In the crimson light of denial, it jerked suddenly, this way and that, like a child throwing a tantrum. With an ear-splitting crack, the malformation began to tear itself apart; going limp as flesh peeled away in slimy patches, before slowly revealing slender fingers, one, then another, and again. Before long, a full hand, lathered in viscera, flexed away the soreness of its transformation.
Ashen skin met the terminal beneath the hologram with a wet smacking sound as the hand maladroitly attempted to access the computer.
Scanning.
Access Granted.
Welcome back, Operative.
The screen, with a hum, shifted to green. In the bright light, black, bloodless veins matted the almost translucent skin and the hand lurched back, violently. A picture filled the screen. With caution, the newborn approached the terminal again. Its skin began to bubble and drip all over the terminal. But it saw past the pain, past the failing flesh.
The picture of a man in dress blues, saluting.
With a howl, the hand smashed the terminal to pieces. In darkness, the heavy mass tore the terminal from the ground and threw at the barred door. A haunting yowl echoed, and the thing shook in rage, agony…
Revulsion.
A low, throaty growl filled the tomb:
"Shepard."
The rain sizzled as it fell on still burning embers amidst the rubble. In the aftermath of the final battle, fallen soldiers and civilians caught in the crossfire were everywhere. Hands clawing at the sky beneath rubble in defiance, or limp in the realisation of the inevitable; they all had a story to tell. Humans, aliens… Horrors.
The calm pitter-patter of rain picked up, swallowing ruins and remains alike in a cloud of steam. The smell of rain mixed with those of melted metal and burnt flesh; bittersweet, even nauseating.
Still, the Quarian kept the air filters off. He had once told her nothing was more soothing to him than the smell of rain back on Earth. It would remind him of the better days. She worried she would only ever be able to associate it with the horrors of war.
Her suit kept her dry despite the growing deluge. But she took care not to take a misstep. It was finally over. The battle for Earth had drawn to close, suddenly, and brutally. Her eyes scanned the battered remains of London. She suspected it had been beautiful, once.
Tali couldn't help but remember when she first set foot on Rannoch. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of the crumbling gravel underfoot. She wondered if the war with the Geth had been similar to this. With a deep breath, she reopened her eyes.
Staring at her foot, she made out what looked like an obliterated Alliance helmet. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she tried picturing a face, and tried to think of some way to thank this nameless soldier for his ultimate sacrifice. But she couldn't.
With an impatient huff, she shook her head, clearing her mind. She wasn't the only one who had lost someone. Whoever this soldier had been, had meant to someone else just as much as Shepard did to her. She shouldn't –wouldn't– insult their memory. They too deserved the utmost respect, hers, and everyone's.
'At least we had a body to recover,' she thought. It was more than what most people had. How many children orphaned, siblings, families and friends, lost…
A sad smile and quivering lips.
'He's alive.'
She closed her eyes.
The word had never seemed so sad before.
Two soldiers stood side by side, overlooking the city.
"It's not really sunk in yet," the first said, revealing himself human.
The other nodded distractedly.
"Yeah, I know." His voice was a soft growl and lacked the characteristic sarcasm the human had grown used to. "How…" the turian began before awkwardness took hold again. The human turned to look at the alien at the unspoken question.
The turian's mandibles twitched in discomfort.
"It's Shepard," the human answered.
"That's what I'm worried about," the turian replied.
Crossing his arms, Kaidan looked back out the broken window.
"What about the recovery operations ?"
"Well… the Reapers don't leave much," Kaidan said without humor.
Garrus scoffed, shaking his head.
"I'm not sure if that's better or worse, really," the human officer continued.
"Both," Garrus replied, before turning and walking away.
"Yeah..."
"Tali'Zorah. Does this unit… have…"
Tali's eyes opened slowly. She sat up, resting her back against the wall. Arms hugging her knees to her chest, she rested her head on them, closing her eyes with a stifled sob. She was so tired. The war was over. No more fighting Reapers, or Cerberus; only her dreams now.
Through half-lidded eyes she looked at the knife strapped to her left calf. She had never needed it often. But every time she used it, the memories were more painful than any bruise, cut or infection.
'I had to. He would have killed Shepard.' She thought angrily. But even her inner voice sounded unconvinced. Throughout all the horrors of the war, this one haunted her most.
"Keelah…" she cried softly.
"I'm sorry, Legion. I'm sorry."
The stable beeping of the life support system was only interrupted by Shepard's breathing aid. The few patches of his body that weren't covered with bandages showed nothing but charred skin. It was a miracle they were keeping him alive with so few medical supplies. They assumed due to his extensive implants, he had a much hardier constitution than most. Slowly, but surely, the tests were revealing that his body was healing. The real concern was his brain.
Tali sat in a makeshift chair next to Shepard, reading field reports and the occasional get-well messages. She put the datapad down after a while, leaning as close as she could to the protective bubble her love had been placed in, courtesy of the Flotilla. The provided sterile environment would help prevent further infection. Or so she hoped.
Taking in the extensive damage Shepard had suffered, Tali couldn't help herself, placing a delicate hand on the exterior of the bubble.
"Keelah, Shepard…" her voice was breaking. She felt so helpless. 'I need you,' she held the words and tears back.
"Tali…" the sound of her name made her jump slightly. She removed her hand and straightened up before facing who spoke to her, thankful her helmet hid her tears.
"Liara," she answered, trying her best not to sound emotional. The two women stood in silence, and Liara played with her fingers nervously. Even as Shadow Broker, it was a habit that seemed determined to stick.
The asari couldn't bring herself to say anything that mattered, even though she knew Tali needed her to.
"I'm… glad. At least, someone he trusts is keeping him good company." She managed pitifully.
Tali nodded slightly. There was another tense pause. "I should go," the quarian mumbled which caused Liara to smile despite herself.
"Tali." The quarian stopped at the doorway. "Thank you."
Liara couldn't see her friend's shoulders shaking as she fought against herself. But she could feel the sadness, and resignation. It broke the asari's heart.
Tali didn't blame Liara. But it did little to lessen her guilt. Shepard inspired more than loyalty and courage in his friends. Liara and Tali never talked it over with each other. She suspected that even had she tried to, the conversation would have only been painful and awkward for Tali. The asari sat down where the quarian had been moments before.
Pensive as she gazed at her broken lover, she thought of how they met. Then all the adventures they had been on since. The highs and lows, when she thought she had lost him forever, only to find him again two years later… She wasn't sure how it happened. Shepard was a career military man, through and through. They were nothing alike.
Maybe it was the melding, or just physical attraction… but something made Shepard different around her. They never questioned it. They were just there for each other, even when the mission came first, they couldn't help it…
Liara had tried not to give in, to put their duty before themselves, something she was sure as an officer he understood. She had been the one who put an end to their quickly budding relationship. But her thoughts, inevitably, always drifted back to him. Her heart would beat faster every time she saw him. She tried to dismiss it, but it was gnawing at her, every day getting worse. She wasn't used to people that way. She had been fine with no one in her life up until she met Shepard. She wanted to believe she could still be that way. She wanted to believe that she could let Shepard go, as she had been taught she would have to. There was little comfort to be found in the arms of the other races her mother had once told her. Shepard would leave her sooner rather than later, whether he meant to or not, and Liara desperately clung to the false hope that Shepard would understand the impossibility of their peculiar situation. But he didn't. He couldn't.
"I love you, Liara T'Soni."
"I… love you, too."
She had almost been unable to get it out. And somewhere deep inside her, she wished she never did. She wished she had never met Shepard. Without him, she wouldn't have fared any better than all the other casualties of war. She wouldn't have had to witness the fall of Thessia, of her people. She wouldn't have had to kill her own mother. As her thoughts continued to unravel and the guilt of their nature overpowered her common sense, her eyes focused on something reflecting light in her eyes.
Shepard's dog tags.
She looked up at her burnt lover with teary eyes. She didn't have time to be wallowing in self-pity. She tried to smile as she came to a realisation.
"How much easier it could have been if you had chosen her instead. But I wouldn't have had it any other way."