A/N: There never seems to be much stuff on Spacer Shepards, which seems a shame, considering they're the only ones with canon, living, immediate family. So I'm writing a small series of one-shots that explore a Spacer/Sole Survivor's relationship with her family and how it affects her before, during, and after ME1 and ME2. More to come. Feedback appreciated.
We're made of stronger stuff.
This was the mantra that ran throughout Esme Shepard's life. It was something her mother used to tell her as she grew up, a claim to a greater legacy of Macguiness women who always overcame adversity. Though she no longer carried the name, Hannah Shepard always stood tall with pride for the line she had come from and the blood her daughter carried. Macguiness women, she would tell Esme, are able to endure. And you are no exception.
It was the comforting reassurance when she was a child and making friends was difficult due to her parents' constant reassignments. It was the steady hand on her shoulder when she crashed through the physical and emotional turmoil of puberty. It was the long gaze from her mother at her father's funeral. It was the undercurrent of the hard good-bye as she left for Alliance military basic training.
Stronger stuff, Shepard grunted to herself as she overcame each challenge from her superiors. Stronger stuff, she smiled as she was recruited into the N7 program. Stronger stuff, she muttered under her breath, willing herself not to lose control, not to look at the torn corpses of her fellow marines. Stronger stuff, whispered her mother, holding her child as the Thresher Maws danced beneath her daughter's eyelids.
The mantra carried her through every trial she faced. From the husks of Eden Prime to the gargantuan botanical horror of Feros, she told herself about Macguiness women and why they endured. When the chill of Noveria cut her to the bone and the heat of Therum made it hard to breathe, she thought of those that came before her. When she watched the explosion rock Virmire, and when she stared down the barrel of Saren's gun, her lips formed a thin line and she knew only one thing.
And when she felt the air escaping from her oxygen tank, as the panic began to overtake her, all rational thought was driven from her save one errant phrase.
As the blackness overtook her, one idea came fleeting through Shepard's shrieking mind.
I'm supposed to be made of stronger stuff.