The room was filled with darkness and the sound of snoring, but Emily lay awake. It had been five years, but she would swear she could still feel the blood on her skin. It itched, made her restless. As she did every night, she wrestled with the urge to leave her bunk.
It's really there this time. I have to go see it. I have to know it's real. It was my fault. This is my punishment.
If I ignore it, it's disrespectful to him. I have to… acknowledge it. I have to keep suffering. I need forgiveness.
She sighed as she rose from the bed, bare feet silently leading her towards the head. The door quietly slid open and she entered the room, the florescent lights flickering on as the door shut behind her. Emily blinked, goose bumps breaking out across her skin in the cold air.
Cautiously, she approached the mirror fixed above the row of sinks. After a moment, she managed to force her gaze upwards. She stared balefully at her own reflection.
No blood. See? Just like every night. It's my imagination.
She rubbed a rough hand over her face, the calluses there scraping against her skin. She bent over and splashed water from the taps onto her face. Rough skin. Cold water.
This is what's real.
Emily pushed her short black hair back with wet fingers.
They'd shaved her head when she'd been in hospital afterwards, when they'd taken her amp out. Her hair hadn't been long before, but it still took a long time to grow back. In the end, she'd decided to keep it to where it now fell, just below her jawline.
She was thinner than she had ever been, even when living on the streets of Earth with… Him. Her cheekbones stuck out sharply from her face, and her muscles clearly rippled beneath her pale skin.
After she'd gotten out the hospital, Alliance had set her up with a therapist who asked how she carried on without Him. She didn't.
Alliance had been surprised at her discovery. Her mind had fled by the time they found her on Akuze, the shock and despair at losing at entire unit of friends having been too much for her to handle. The story had circulated, of course – the marine gone insane, found clutching the pieces of her dead best friend on an alien planet covered in the gore of fifty marines.
They put her back into training. Emily carried out the drills, the exercises, all the while feeling their questioning gazes. Fifty marines dead and only she survived. She worked her body half to death, denying it the nutrition it desired. She did everything they asked her to do because she didn't care. She wasn't supposed to be alive.
Leaving her face and hair damp, Emily returned to her bunk and lay still. She shut down her mind, refusing to allow the warm, itching sensation to return. Eventually, she fell into a nightmare-filled sleep.
The food in her tray remained uneaten as she watched the clock.
Emily had woken up screaming before the alarm again this morning, much to the annoyance of her dorm-mates, and so she stared at the ticking hands to avoid the scathing stares. Her blunt fork poked at the mushed up pile of ignored food in the metal tray. The moment the clock read five minutes before the hour, she rose to dump her lunch in the trash and left the mess hall.
After the morning drills, her therapist had met with her again. Her progress, apparently, was impressive, and she'd been given internet access on her omni-tool for the first time since before Akuze. The therapist had asked her not to go looking for news pertaining to the incident though, and Emily hadn't. She knew there was nothing to be gained from reading about the massacre, and no old photos of her friends would ever replace the images in her memory.
She stumbled in the empty corridor as His face flashed in front of her eyes, skin pale and covered in a sheen of sweat as he dangled from the creature's maw. His mouth moving, speaking, and then suddenly, limp. Gone.
Emily stopped and pressed her fingers gently into her eyes, ignoring the blood she saw on the tips, and willed the memory away.
Not real.
The feeling subsided and she straightened up, continuing her journey down the corridor. Her therapist had relayed information about her status to Alliance Command, and a captain was looking for an XO for his new ship.
She'd already heard this news, of course. It was the talk of the barracks – everyone here wanted a place on that ship. It was a prototype, co-developed by the Alliance and the Turians, with Citadel Council sponsorship. A frigate designed for solo reconnaissance missions, it held state-of-the-art stealth tech and was powered by an experimental drive core, and inspired nostalgic dreams of old spy movies from Earth.
Emily wasn't interested, but then she wasn't particularly interested in anything.
Despite this, her therapist had insisted she meet with Captain Anderson anyway. After all, Alliance had kept a close eye on her and it was commonly known that she was strong, fast, skilled, and put effort into everything she was asked to do.
She found herself standing outside the meeting room without really remembering how she got there. Without comment, she flattened her dress blues and pushed the door open.
Three men sat behind a desk flanked by twin armed soldiers. The man in the middle, Emily recognized as the Warrant Officer in charge of the training facility, but the other two were strangers to her. One wore dress blues similar to her own while the other wore formal civvies. The captain had a serious face that still managed to seem friendly, while the other man seemed to look at her with suspicion.
Her officer stood and gestured to the sole seat on the opposite side of the desk. "Shepard. Have a seat." She did as she asked and he nodded his head at the man in dress blues. "This is Captain Anderson," he twitched his head in the other direction. "And this is Ambassador Udina." He sank back down into his chair. "They will be asking you the questions; I'm merely here to supervise. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"So, Shepard." The Captain leaned forward in his seat. "Why do you want to be on my ship?"
Emily blinked. "I don't." She looked at her Officer. "I think there's been a misunderstanding, sir."
Captain Anderson chuckled and leaned back, seemingly amused by her reply while Udina grew steadily redder in the face.
"No misunderstanding, marine. You're the top soldier here, and as such you're being given the first opportunity to apply for a coveted position." Her Officer explained.
"I don't want it." I don't deserve it. "Give the position to someone who's earned it. Someone who does want it."
"This is an outrage, I won't have such an arrogant and ungratef-"
"Udina, please-"
Anderson stood up. "I'm offering you position of XO on my ship. You don't have to say yes right now, but I'd like you to think about it. I know about your past, Shepard. You're a survivor, and I can appreciate that. You are the kind of soldier I want in command on the Normandy." He strolled around the desk, approaching her as she sat in her seat. "I'm not going to interview you for this, just think about it." He stuck out his hand. "Please."
Emily stared at the offered handshake for a moment, frozen in place. She'd been stuck in this training facility for five years as she recovered from Akuze, but it was comfortable. She didn't have to think, didn't have to make decisions. Other people weren't at risk when she was here. But her amp had been the thing that saved her, and she'd never get that back if she stayed here. She couldn't stay here forever. He wouldn't want that.
Of course he would, you're the reason He's dead.
Pushing his hand aside, she stood and looked Anderson in the eye. "I'll apply for this position, provided you show me no preferential treatment over other candidates due to my experience and training. If they give a better interview, they should be chosen."
The older man smiled, something like pride glittering in his dark eyes. "Alright, so…" He walked back to his seat. "Why do you want to be on my ship, Shepard?"