Story Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I affiliated with Bioware or EA. This is a not for profit story inspired by the Mass Effect game trilogy which takes place after the events of Mass Effect 3.
Story Rating: Mature for language, violence, and adult content matter.
Prologue: It is Finished
Get up, Bailey! Get up!
He could hear another groan of the metal around him, closing his eyes. So much had happened already. The building had come crashing around him. There'd been no time... All he remembered was the sirens, the call for an evacuation. C-Sec had mobilized, attempting to fill the shuttles, first getting the council members evacuated, and then focusing on the high ranking diplomats... But after a few minutes, it all went to Hell. All the training, everything they'd prepared for... it had not readied them for this. The order came from him... Put as many civilians as they could onto the shuttles and get them out of there. Save as many people as they could. They'd had maybe twenty minutes after that... He was making sure the building had been evacuated.
Next thing he knew he was waking up to darkness. He was pretty sure he wasn't dead... Being dead surely couldn't hurt this much. He moved slowly, trying to get to his feet, but aside from the pain which had made the wound he'd suffered before feel like a papercut, he couldn't stand fully erect without his shoulders and head hitting something solid. He realized only seconds later that he was trapped, buried in the stairwell... He wasn't sure how high up he was, but he knew that he had been lucky... Well... lucky so far. But more sounds made the building shake, he could hear falling debris above and below him.
He had to activate his omnitool just to get some light. He immediately wished he hadn't done that. He had seen dead bodies before but... to see one of his own men, a Turian, half of his body crushed beneath a large slab of concrete, his eyes looking straight up but seeing nothing... Bailey closed his eyes and cursed to himself. It... it looked like the only way out. He never stopped cursing as he walked towards him, his foot bracing on the sloped surface, crawling to the floor above literally on the back of somebody else...
Pushing himself to his feet, he struggled to take the scene in. The window in front of him had been blown out, but it let him see outside... The Citadel. The arms closed up... A red, foreboding hue cast over the entire thing. And the smell of death. It was overwhelming and he started to choke on it, coughing and doubling over, his stomach twisting until whatever was in his stomach emptied onto the floor. He wiped his mouth and staggered forward, cradling one arm in front of him, the other going to the gun at his side, pulling it out because he had no idea what he was going to face. His boot kicked a bit of the glass still at the bottom of the window and he stepped over and out onto the ledge. About a three story drop... Not too bad, but it wasn't exactly going to be pleasant if he fell either.
There was a fire escape, if he remembered correctly... a ladder that led down... But he would have to scale the side of the building. Fifteen feet... He could see it... He set his gun back in its holster and steadied himself against the building, shuffling his already unsteady feet to the side, slowly. There was no rush. If the Citadel exploded, there wasn't really much he could do about it. All he could do was hope that it wouldn't... Hope that soon the Alliance or the Turian fleet would arrive and start looking for survivors... That is if the Reapers hadn't killed them off yet. Maybe it would have been better to have died when the building collapsed. At least then he wouldn't have to wait to be harvested. Whatever that meant.
His hand clasped around the metal of the ladder, and he held onto it like a lifeline because... it really was. He swung one foot to it, then the other, trying to figure out how he was going to do this with one arm. Slowly was the answer. It was always the answer. He had to put his arm around to hold the rungs as he stepped down, moving at a snail's pace. He'd seen Volus climb down ladders faster than this. But... not much further to go... Maybe about twelve feet... Which would have been a wonderful fact to take in if not for the fact that the ladder had broken and he was in no condition to attempt to drop the rest of the way. If he could just get his foot onto the ledge of the second floor, maybe he could find a way down inside. He readjusted his grip and moved to the edge.
The explosion came from behind him. Loud enough that it caused a ringing in his ears, close enough that he could feel the heat on his back, and big enough that the shockwave slammed him against the building, his head hitting one of the rungs. He lost consciousness in the next breath, his hand going slack, falling backward towards the ground and hitting with a sickening thud.
He woke with a groan... His chest tight, feeling as if it might be about to explode. His breaths were ragged. Wheezing... And when he tried to move... the pain was paralyzing. So he just laid where he was for a while. How long had he been out? It looked as if part of the Citadel had been blown to pieces... When he'd been climbing down, he remembered not being able to see the sky and now he was staring straight up at it... Only he could see the Earth. That... wasn't right.
He had to talk himself into moving again, almost whimpering at the pain, but he managed to get to his feet, staggering as he attempted to find a center of balance, but he gave up on that. He turned, remembering the heat on his back and figuring the explosion had come from where the Towers had once been. He started in that direction, coming across more bodies along the way... And a Keeper... A Keeper who appeared to be behaving normally, plugging away on a console like it wasn't standing on a heap of corpses. It was too eerie to contemplate or digest, so he moved passed it, dragging his leg behind him.
The walk should not have been a long one. But with how he moved... He considered trying to see if one of the rapid transit cars still worked, but for whatever reason, perhaps just stubborn determination, he kept walking, coming to a stop only when he reached the bottom of the pile of rubble, singed black from the explosion. He gritted his teeth and started to scale it, wondering what it was that compelled him to reach the top. He should have stayed where he was. Should have tried to use his omnitool to call for help... If anybody was left. He really needed to stop having that thought.
By the time he reached the top, he was quite literally out of breath, heaving and feeling like his lungs just might collapse from the strain he'd just put on them. He fell to his good knee, wincing when it hit something hard but it was better than standing at least. He was content to just lay here. To wait. If this was real... If this wasn't hell and he was really dead... then by the looks of it, Earth was still standing. Maybe there would be help coming soon after all. He was about to lay down fully to either wait or to die, at this point it didn't matter which, but he heard something... Something that was not the groan or creak of metal or the tell-tale sound of something exploding.
Somebody, or something, was purposely banging on something, a loud, hollow sound that carried over to him. He reached for his pistol and shuffled back up, moving towards the sound. There were a few metal pillars sticking up around the apex of the mountain of debris, and he had to navigate around them to see the source of the noise, but as he neared, he was certain he heard breathing too. Breathing that was somehow more labored than his own.
And that's when he saw the hand, the bloody hand of a human, female judging by the shape and size of the wrist, covered in blood, banging a rock against one of the beams that had her pinned down. It didn't matter who it was. She was another survivor. Somebody he could focus on. Already his pain was nothing. He had somebody else to save. It was not until he was closer, about to open his mouth to speak that he saw the 'N7' on what was left of her breastplate... And his heart seemed to fall straight into his stomach.
"Shepard?" He bent forward, his hands reaching for her hair, pushing it out of her face. Her eyes, sharp and blue, stared up at him, and for a second neither of them moved. Or breathed. And then she was crying. Tears streaming down her blood soaked cheeks and her hand dropped the rock, shakily reaching up for him. He looked down at it, seeing not only blood but burns and he was almost afraid to touch her, afraid that he would hurt her, but as her eyes got wider, almost desperate, he couldn't help but reach out for it, holding it tight. Only then did her eyes close and she gave something that he might have called a smile. "Shepard, I'm... I'm going to try to get you out of here. I promise..." he breathed, looking her over. She still had bits of her armor that clung to her, but for the most part, he could see it had been destroyed either by the explosion or something else. And if not for the beam that lay across her legs, he might have been able to pull her up.
"Did we... Did it work...?"
Her voice didn't sound right. It was Shepard, but... every time he'd heard her before, it had sounded so strong. So sure. Even when she was shoulder deep in shit from the council and from everybody else, it never seemed like she was bogged down by it. But he could hear how broken she was now. Could hear the pain in her voice. The despair. He set his shoulders to the beam and braced his feet for leverage, attempting to push the beam. His grunt filled the air, a loud groan as the pain overwhelmed him and he sank down, taking her hand again. It hadn't even budged.
"B... Bailey...? Please... Answer me..."
"Would if I could, Commander. But... I don't know what you're asking me."
"The Reapers... Did we... we win? Are they... gone?"
He shrugged, looking back up at the Earth. "I don't know. All I know is that one moment the Citadel was in the Widow system... And now I'm looking at Russia. But, I guess seeing it means something good, right? The Earth isn't on fire... We're still here."
"Anderson... He's... He's dead... And the Illusive man... I... I destroyed..."
"Is that what that explosion was?" He looked back at her, shifting closer. "Shepard... I don't know that anybody else here survived... but we did. There's got to be a reason for that, right?"
"I'm... I'm dying..." she said, shaking her head.
"What? No. Don't say that. You're going to be all right. I'm going to get you out of here. You saved my ass more times than I can count, Commander. Now it's my turn to start returning that favor." He got up again.
"Please... Save... Save your own strength. I need... I need you to survive. I need you... to tell Hackett... what happened to Anderson. That... he was killed by the Illusive Man. To tell my crew what happened here. I... I need you... to tell Kaidan Alenko that I'm sorry."
"No," he growled. "I need you to survive. I've already been to one of your memorial services, Shepard. I'm not going to a second one. Do you hear me? You better dig deep down and figure out where to pull more strength from, Commander, but you aren't dying here. Not today." He braced himself against the beam and started to push, but before he put his body into it, he heard some static over his comm device and he stopped, putting his hand to his ear. The slight tilt of Shepard's head told him that she'd heard it, too.
Why the Hell hadn't he thought of that before. He went to his knees and started playing with the channels until he could hear somebody talking. "Hello? Hello, can you hear me? Hello?"
Silence at first, just feedback, but then somebody said, "This is Alliance Captain Jones of the Delaware. This is a secure channel. Identify yourself."
"I am Armando Bailey. Citadel Security. I'm with Commander Shepard of the SSV Normandy. We are both trapped on the Citadel and are requesting immediate aid. Medical attention will be-"
"Did you say Commander Shepard?"
"Yes, Captain. I found her. She is, so far, the only survivor I have found."
"Stay on the link, Bailey. We are getting a lock on your location..." Another pause and then, "Got it. We will be sending a rescue unit to you immediately. Remain on this channel. I will try to patch you through to Admiral Hackett."
"No rush on that, Captain. We aren't going anywhere..." he said almost cynically. He crawled forward, reaching for the comm device on Shepard's ear to set it to the proper channel so that she could hear, too. "Help is on the way, commander. The Delaware is sending a rescue team."
"Did... Did you ask...? Did you ask about the Reapers?"
"No... No, I didn't... But, you can. I set it so that you can speak with them. His name is Captain Jones."
She lifted her arm though it seemed she had some trouble bringing it to her ear. He reached to compress it for her. "Captain... Captain Jones... This... This is Commander Lucia... Lucia Shepard. What... What is the status... of the Reapers?"
It took a moment before anybody responded, but where she'd been expecting to hear a stranger's voice, she heard somebody far more familiar. His voice soft, edged with something she'd never heard before in his tone. "Commander Shepard. This is Admiral Hackett. Damned good to hear your voice again. We thought you were lost. I'm not sure what you did, but whatever you shot off at the Citadel worked. The Reapers are falling all over the Galaxy. You did it Commander. We've got teams heading to the Citadel now to extract you and Bailey. Fine work, Shepard."
"A... Anderson... He's..."
"I know. You told me. We'll discuss what happened later. Right now I just need you to stay where you are until the men from the Delaware arrive to get you."
"I'm... I'm in pretty bad... bad shape, sir. I don't... I don't think I'm going to... to make it..."
"Enough, soldier. I gave you an order. You will wait for extraction, and then I will personally debrief you after you receive medical care. And, Shepard... I expect you to be alive. That's not an option."
"Y-yes... Yes sir. Admiral... The Normandy... Any word from the crew?"
"None, commander. Only thirty percent of our fleet is accounted for. Many jumped through the mass relay before it was destroyed and with comm links disabled... it may be a few weeks before we've accounted for all of the fleet. But there's no reason yet to believe that the Normandy fell. I'm en route to Earth as we speak, Commander. I will meet you in Switzerland."
"S-Switzerland, sir?"
"It wasn't hit as hard by the Reapers and the hospital there is equipped to handle serious trauma. Captain Jones has already been instructed to take you there. And like I told you before, Commander... I expect you to be ready for a debrief. Hackett out."
"Sounds like a hard ass," Bailey said, after releasing the button. "But... got to respect him anyway. You heard him, though. Can't give up yet, Commander." He thought nothing of it when she didn't respond at first, but... she wasn't even moving. Or breathing. "Commander...? Shepard!" He shook her, but nothing. "Captain Jones! Hurry the hell up with that rescue team... We're losing her!"
He moved over her as best he could, tilted her chin up and felt for a pulse. Her heart was still beating, but slowly... faint. Leaning forward, he parted her lips and breathed into her mouth, over and over until he finally heard footsteps behind him. His instinct was to pull his pistol, but when they shouted that they were from the Delaware, he resumed doing what he was doing until one of them pulled him back and placed an oxygen mask around her.
"Come on, Bailey. We'll get you to the shuttle."
"No," he said, moving away from the soldier's outstretched hand. "I'm not getting into that shuttle without Commander Shepard."
"She's unresponsive," said the medic attending to her. "Cut the beam off. We've got to move her, now. Watson. Medi-gel. It won't do much, but it might buy us the time we need. Come on, Commander. We aren't losing you."
Bailey just watched helplessly as they attempted to resuscitate her. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the sky, at Earth... and the pain... everything... it came rushing back. Shepard was dying. And he... he wasn't doing so well himself. He thought of his ex-wife... of his son and daughter... Of the family he neglected for his career... And for what? What had come of it? He felt something hot in his eyes, blurring his vision. Another breath, this one reminding him of how tight his chest felt... and then the edges of his vision darkened, closing in, and he was falling...
Nothing was the same. It would never be the same. Everything they worked so hard for... Gone in the blink of an eye. What was the point of waking up? What would they be waking up, too? The galaxy was different now. It no longer needed people like him. People like Shepard. Maybe it would be better for both of them if they just never woke up.