Replaying ME3 as a psychologically broken Femshep, this had to be written.
First time writing for ME, i love this trilogy SO much.
Thoughts and comments appreciated :)
Shepard acknowledges that she is a mess right now. Her body is falling apart. Her mind is one more difficult shitty decision away from breaking. She is struggling.
However she cannot be shown to be like that. She is Commander fucking Shepard. Saviour of the Citadel, defeater of the enemy, the fucking hope of the universe against the reaper invasion. She needs to be perfect, to be steadfast and give every other soul out there hope that they will all survive against this near impossible enemy. But it is getting harder and harder not to break.
She was slowly being filled with cracks and bit of her were shattering under the immense pressure of leading this fight. So many deaths, some she was not responsible for, some she definitely was. So many damning decisions. Having to choose between people who had come to mean so much to her – and the greater good. Kaiden; Wrex; Legion; Mordin; Jack... Each more painful than the last. Her ability to feel was lessening, she felt herself pulling away from all her team mates, old and new. Staring down people who held her on a pedestal, telling them they did not have time to investigate for their loved ones. Avoiding meeting Garrus and his knowing eyes. Turning away from Liara's concerned looks, the love the asari held for her radiating loud and strong, spurning the comfort she would undoubtedly find in those strong blue arms. Knowing that Liara would instantly recoil from Shepard the moment they bonded, disgusted with the way she was drowning in her guilt and responsibility.
Exhaustion had settled in her like a disease she couldn't be cured of. Often unable to sleep, jerking awake from nightmares of being unable to breath, of her skin burning, of ripping open her chest to find cogs and circuit boards.
Aria had offered a surprising distraction when she had talked about retaking Omega. She had swept Shepard along on a mission that she would have normally refused, focused only on the fight to unite squabbling species. The fire in the obnoxious asari's eyes had kindled something inside the human, which roared to life when blue lips had claimed her own – it had been like oxygen reaching her burning lungs. She had left Afterlife feeling a bit more alive, a bit more grounded.
Then she had pulled the trigger on Ashley Williams for having the balls to stand up to her old commander, for doing what she thought was right, for following fucking orders. Because she stood in the way of the mission.
She had returned to the now rebuilt asteroid, anger, disappointment, guilt, distress, all swirling violently inside. One look from Aria, one acknowledging inclination of the head and Shepard had allowed herself to be dragged from the pounding bass of the club into a lavishly decorated back room. Thrown back against the metal wall, she lost herself in the touch and taste of a person who was not going to judge her for her decisions, who was just as much a monster as she was. Sinking herself into lust and blood rushing through her ears, gasps of passion, her back arching as pleasure shot down her spine. Forgetting for a while, what was at stake, what was resting on her shoulders.
Hiding whilst her soul screamed, she gave in, gave up, the unwavering power in Aria's eyes and skill in her fingers sustaining her. Allowed herself to be less than she had to be. For a while.
When she left - or more accurately, was kicked - out of Aria's sanctuary, she felt more human, more focussed. Cracks smoothed over, less likely to crumble. She would be steadfast, she would be the force that got all sentient life in the universe through this battle.
She had to.
Who else would?