Author's Note : This fic is a bit disjointed and about halfway through, I decided that I wanted it to be that way. It may not give a warm fuzzy, but I might be continuing it if the fancy strikes me. I also took some small liberties with the end mission. Not too much, but there are spoilers in here.
True Cost of Victory
Sometimes victory wasn't the celebration that it was made out to be. The buildup to a goal is often overdone, inflated, and wildly beyond the expectation of the individual. The attainment of the impossible lends itself to euphoria for a moment…before passing into the lower subset of emotion.
Much like revenge, the feeling of satisfaction gives way to something akin to depression.
Commander Shepard and her crew were no exception to this.
She walked through the passageways of the ship. Physically, they hadn't changed much. Many of the immediate repairs had been taken care of by now. No debris littered the floor anymore. No beams falling down or tables askew.
She passed through the mess decks, intent on the medical bay. The large glass panes that separated the medical ward from the mess were more or less intact save for a few spidery cracks along their lengths. More battlescars from the aftermath of the Omega 4 relay.
The commander paused before she entered, her stance giving nothing away of what was going on in her mind. Her face kept the same expression she'd word for the past several hours. Her lips were a grim, flat line, the edges tugging downwards in what was almost a grimace. Her brows were drawn down, frowning over eyes that were narrowed with concern.
The door opened at her touch with a hesitant whooshing of air and the hum of its hidden motor.
"Commander." Came the doctor's voice. The older woman sounded tired and worn, but she looked up from her cup of coffee with a weary smile. "I was wondering when you'd be down to visit."
Shepard managed to crack her façade long enough to give the doc an unconvincing smile. "I know. Its been a few hours, I really should have come down sooner to check on you. And the rest of the crew, of course."
Chakwas laughed a bit self deprecatingly. "Don't worry too much about it, Commander. I've actually been rather busy in the last few hours. Injuries and such." She gestured at the chair across from her own. "Care to stay for a bit? I could use some company."
Shepard sank into the uncomfortable plastic and leather gratefully. "I'm glad you are alright."
"I am fine, as are the rest of the crew. A bit shaken up, perhaps. And poor Kelly will always have some scarring on her hands, but she is a strong girl. She'll pull through it."
"Kelly was injured?" Shepard asked, surprised. "I haven't had a chance to check up on everyone yet. How did she get hurt?"
The doctor shifted, the skin around her eyes creasing with remembered pain. "When we were coming back to the ship, we were attacked by a few stray collectors, you remember. It was only because of her that we even survived to make it back to Joker. When Jacob fell-" here, Doc's voice hitched, "She took his gun. We didn't have any more heatsinks and she-"
"Shepard leaned forward, forcing away her worried frown to try to put the doctor more at ease. "Its alright, Doc. You don't need to talk about it. It's hard, watching something like that."
Chakwas nodded, looking at her hands that were clasped hard in her lap. "I've been around more than once, Shepard. Don't worry about me. I'll be alright."
"How are the others? I didn't get a chance to do a muster. Any casualties?" As the words passed her lips, she grimaced. Her face pulled into its practiced mask again before she could stop herself. "Among the ship's company, that is."
"I-no." Chakwas replied. She had seen the momentary flash of pain on the commander's face. "No, we are all here. And Gardner is making it his mission to cheer everyone up with his cooking. I truly hope it turns out better than the time he dusted off the Krogan cookbook."
A ghost of a smile teased at Shepard's face before it failed to blossom. "Good." She murmured quietly. Almost to herself. "Good."
The pair spent several moments in companionable silence. Shepard's eyes were on the one med cot that was occupied, its inhabitant covered by a blanket that moved with each halting breath. The quiet beep of life support machines created a strange counterpoint to the almost invisible buzz of the ship's systems.
Her limbs felt heavy. She'd been in her armor for hours. She'd been too busy directing cleanups or sending intel that she'd forgotten to get herself out of the twisted, scorched pieces of metal and blast plastic that barely qualified as body protection. She wasn't injured that she knew of so there had been no reason to go to the medical bay. Especially when there were others far more needful of the good doctor's attentions.
Her eyes flicked over to the bed and her shoulders tightened. "Any change?" she asked before she could bite her tongue.
Chakwas shook her head mutely.
"Keep me notified."
"Aye, ma'am."
The cargo hold.
It was patched enough to keep the vacuum from tearing the ship apart from the inside out, but not much more than that. The ship was holding together, though every now and again there were eerie creaks and moans from the structure where there had been none before.
She liked the darkness there. They hadn't been able to get the lights working everywhere yet. Most of the power was still diverted to keep the main systems upline. Still, from the light of the distant stars, three oblong forms were visible in the shadows, limned by silvery light that tricked the eyes.
Two of the coffins were empty. Jacob's body had been recovered through the tenacity of her ship's crew. The old adage she'd seen inscribed on a monument back on earth floated to the top of her mind – 'Never leave a man behind.' It was heartening to see that sentiment lived up to in this age, where life was so cheap.
She traced the name inscribed on the cold steel of the coffin. He didn't have any family to speak of. Just a father who didn't care. There was no one to take charge of his belongings or receive his body. There was no one to really care but herself and the crew, most of which had become like a family of sorts.
She couldn't read the text on the next coffin. It was in an Asari script, but EDI assured her that the inscription was respectful and warranted for the Asari Justicar it represented. Shepard sighed, her carefully built walls allowing only a trickle of regret to touch her inner self. Samara had never said it, but she knew that the woman had never really intended on coming back from the mission. It was an honorable end to an honorable existence. She'd known that this was the likely outcome since that dark night on Omega. With the death of her daughter, the light of purpose had left the Asari's eyes.
"You got what you were looking for, huh?" Shepard asked the empty room. The snakelike script shimmered before her eyes for a moment before she blinked rapidly.
It wouldn't do to let the levy break now. There was too much still to finish. Still, was it too much to wish that she'd been able to retrieve Samara's body?
She let her hand rest on the coffin lid for a moment more before moving on. In a way, it was fitting for the matron to remain back there on the collector base. What better way to end the great story of the famed Asari Justicar than to tell of the woman disappearing into the center of the galaxy to explore the as yet unseen secrets beyond the reach of anyone else?
She was going to make sure that Samara's name was remembered for a long time. It was the least she could do for all the good the justicar had done for people not even her own.
The third coffin was blank. It was empty and cold, personality-less. Shepard stared at it hard, her eyes dry.
There was no inscription on this coffin. There was no heartfelt goodbye.
She balled her hand into a fist before turning on her heel.
There wouldn't be any goodbyes. She'd see to it.
"How are you holding up?" Shepard asked. Joker nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of her voice.
"Oh, uh…hello, Commander. Didn't realize you were there." He replied, his normally sarcastic tone subdued. There was a haunted look in his eyes that had never quite left after the shipwide kidnapping incident.
She took a seat, perching on the edge of the chair. "Sorry about that."
He shrugged and turned back to the controls without a word. They watched the stars for a few moments before he shifted with discomfort.
He lifted his ball cap and ran his fingers through his scruffy hair. Scratched his beard. Fidgeted in his chair. Tapped his left hand on the console. He kept glancing at Shepard, green eyes dulled by emotional pain. "You're frowning."
She shrugged. "It happens."
"Why?" He asked, then shook his head. "Never mind. Not my business."
More quiet minutes passed, to Joker's dismay. He began to fidget again.
When he glanced back over his shoulder, she was gone.
Joker closed his eyes and pressed his knuckles into his forehead. "Great," he muttered to himself. "Reeeally smooth, dumbass."
Commander Shepard mentally checked off the crewmembers that she's talked to in the past several hours. The doctor was alright. Kelly was shaken and had retired to her rack, as well as most of the support staff. Gardner was fine. Old salts like him tended to bounce back well from situations like this, though he was a self professed nonfighter.
Garrus had taken Samara's passing a bit harder than she'd expected. There was little the two had in common, but it seemed that they'd been able to find something close to friendship in each other toward the end. Nothing more than that, but losing a friend was just as hard as losing anything else. She'd left him staring into a mug of mulled Turien brandy on the mess decks after leaving medical.
Jack had summarily dismissed Shepard's attempts to check on her, as had Zaeed. Shepard understood-sometimes the best way to cope with an experience of that scale was to be left alone. She obliged.
Grunt was ready and raring for another fight. Typical.
Tali was jittery, like always. She had complained of a fever that soon had her in bed with antibiotics. Not lethal, according to Chakwas, but enough of a threat that Tali needed to spend a few days sick in quarters.
Mordin was a little shellshocked, but he'd seen worse. He assured the commander of this as he helped the doctor pull jagged pieces of glass from Donnelly's arms. The engineer had gotten them when Jack shattered the enclosure on the tube in the collector base.
He had weakly joked that a bit of glass was better than becoming human meat batter. Gabby, sitting beside him, reached for a basin in which to empty the contents of her stomach.
Shepard sighed. One more person to see. For some reason, her stomach tried to tie itself into knots. Creaky moans from the ship's flexing bulkheads spiked in her hearing, to be silenced just as quickly. It was a slim hope that they'd make it to the Citadel docks to repair the Normandy before they'd have to send out a distress beacon. One more worry to add to his list.
Her heavy footsteps brought her to the door to Life Support. One breath, then two. She stalled, wanting nothing more than to turn and walk away from that cold metal door, knowing that there was no possible excuse in this galaxy to do so.
Yet still she waiting. Still, she remained outside the door like a lost child.
It was because he was there. He was on the other side, probably sitting quietly like always, contemplating the darkness that was definitely filling the room. Only the operational locations had lighting right now. Even the captain's quarters was devoid of anything but the emergency trail lights lining the floor.
She reached out a hand, and the door opened at her touch.
There was no movement inside. The slowly pulsing light tracks on the floor were the only things that told her that there was habitable space inside, rather than the vast expanse of nothingness that her mind conjured up before her.
She stepped forward. It was like stepping into a void. Even the normal background noises of the ship were muted in this space. Edging around the life support apparatus, she could see the reactor core glowing dull through the aft window.
Thane stood there, hands braced against the windowsill. His face was close to the window, enough that his breath left a trail of fog across the glass. His spine was rigid. He stood in what was almost a mockery of his usual stance. He looked brittle now, ready to crumble at the slightest touch.
His eyes flickered to her momentarily. "Shepard."
She restrained a grimace at his tone. "Thane. Are you well?"
He pushed himself from the window. He wasn't facing her. "I am not injured."
"That wasn't what I asked."
He was silent.
"Thane."
No response.
Shepard sighed. If that was the way it was to be, then she'd have no more luck changing his mind than she'd had with Joker. She turned on her heel and walked toward the door.
Before she could make it there, she felt a strong, thin hand grip her wrist hard, almost hard enough to cause pain. "Wait."
It wasn't a plea, nor was it a command, but a mix of both. There was a wealth of hidden emotion in that single word, passed through his lips in the darkness in a thrumming hiss. She detected anger, though she couldn't tell if it was directed at her. There was sadness, but it was the same sadness that pervaded everything that Thane did. There was desperation, like a child left alone in the dark. And strangely, there was an undertone of violence that she knew had always bubbled toward the surface of his strict veneer of self control.
She turned. His grip on her wrist was still tight and she felt the bones in her arm shift against each other. "Thane-"
Quick as thought, he reversed his hold and drew her closer. The fingers of his free hand danced over her armored arm in a light, almost nervous motion, pebbly skin scraping audibly over the thick, dried bloodstains. "I-" he started, then his mouth snapped shut with a click. "I have to tell you…Shepard…"
The commander shifted uneasily. "Thane, do you need to see Chakwas?"
"No." he exclaimed, too quickly. "I just want to know something, Shepard. I need to know."
She forced her ever present frown from her face. "What do you need to know?"
He loosened his grip on her wrist. She resisted the urge to move away. "Did I…did I make a mistake back there?" His eyes loomed black in the shadows, larger than she'd ever seen them before. "On the base."
Shepard couldn't stop herself from closing her eyes against the memory. So close to victory. So close to ending the threat. So close to losing it all.
Chaos. Shouting. They worked in concert to destroy that…thing. That abomination of DNA and machine.
Miranda's face as the Illusive Man demanded that she follow his orders. Shepard had already turned away, so she didn't see when Miranda had drawn her pistol and leveled it at the back of the commander's head.
Gunfire. The platforms falling apart like so many shards of glass.
Wakening to Thane's form above her, pulling her from the rubble. Looking at Miranda's still form. There was a gunshot wound to her gut.
It was only a few hours ago that it had happened. As soon as they were all safe on the ship, Thane had turned on his heel and disappeared into his room.
Miranda was living on borrowed time and machines. Only Thane and Shepard knew what had happened. And, of course, the illusive man.
She opened her eyes again, only to see the Drell drop his gaze and look away, the stoic mask falling over his features again. "I would like to think you did, Thane. If it wasn't for you, I would be dead and forgotten by now. You saved my ass back there."
His eyelids fluttered disconcertingly over his eyes. "You are our leader, Shepard."
"We all knew the risks going in, Thane." She replied, stepping back toward the door with a sigh. "I have you to thank that I didn't die tonight."
He watched her go. Before she cleared the door, he took a breath and opened his mouth to say something, but bit his tongue.
OOOOO
This little collection of loose vignettes really had no direction, but in a way, I like it like that. So. Should I continue? I love doing character growth and my particular favorites are Thane and Joker....
Reviews are much appreciated. Thank you for reading.
-Ambrel