Title: Beautiful Wasteland
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Bioware.
Beta Reader: OinkyThePiggy
Summary: Commander Shepard is ready to die. What she isn't ready for is crash-landing on Earth; broken, battered, and alone. Now she must struggle to survive, all while coming to terms with the truth of the Reapers, and what it means for her and the one she loves. Post-ME3.
Chapter One
Ugly Galaxy
The forest is on fire.
Burning at a tamed pace as it spreads through the underbrush and nips at what little life resides there. Still, even with its sluggish crawl, it is all-consuming and utterly relentless as it moves. Sparing nothing in its wake as it passes; as it shifts and coils and crackles like a monster with red eyes gleaming bright against the ink filled sky.
Her dream is on fire and it is burning away the low fog that has always clung tight to the ground here. That has always thickened as she tried to run until she was going no faster than if she was treading murky black water.
From the fire, gray smoke curls and shudders until she can see herself emerge from it, hands on the shoulder of the boy from Earth. More people join her twin and they cluster tightly around her, moving willingly into the fire's maw.
They are all being eaten alive in front of her—clothes catching, hair singeing, skin blistering—but they do not care in the least. They do not flinch or scream or cry for her help, and not once do their sorrowful stares waver from her. And she can see it; finally see the message in their eyes.
All this time it has been a message. Not from the child slain on Earth months ago—one of the first of many causalities—but from herself.
These dreams and nightmares have been coated with the same inky black songs she was warned about so long ago. The same disjointed light that Benezia was incased in. The same false 'Promised Land' Saren rebelled against in the end.
She is a fool. To think she was above the demonic thrall of the metal gods. She is a fool for not seeing it sooner. For thinking the death of one child could haunt her so relentlessly.
She's not callous, but his death may be the kindest death any child could have hoped for in this war. He died before knowing the true pain and terror of the Reapers. He died never to be used against his own people.
She is a fool.
She knows that now, but it is hard to keep hold of that knowledge. It's trying to slip away, a fake needle in a never ending haystack; nothing solid or concrete.
She has to hold on, she knows. If this revelation leaves then she'll be another pawn again.
And she's tired of dancing to the Reapers' song.
They are calling to her now; demons cooing out in voices of the fallen ones. Not real, she reminds herself. She's always known what these hazy moments are, just dreams. Yet, now it's becoming more real than snippets of ghost filled reveries. Now it's a battle for her mind and body; a battle she does not know how to fight or win.
The fire is growing, spreading with a wild untamed will, and is now eating fully at her doppelganger, the child long gone from its arms.
For the first time she wishes Thane is right. That it is her soul, untainted by the Reapers' spell, staring back at her. That even if she fails, the core of her will always fight the black song she now hears. Even if her body falls, a part of her will forever live without the corruption…
She wants to laugh. And she does. It echoes hollowly and the image of her wavers at the bitter sound.
Death is no peace. She knows this. Knows, like Benezia did, there is no light at the end, only pain and death.
That is not her soul staring at her and she cannot hope that some abstract part of her will live on if she fails. It is her body she must control. It is her mind and very will if she wishes to live.
It's so easy to let the lies in, she realizes. They feed off of the wants of her heart. Off of the words of fallen friends. If her soul does exist, it will want to fight, because she wants to fight.
She will fight, and try her hardest to win.
Lieutenant Commander Charlotte Shepard wakes with a gasp. Something swirls at the edge of her vision and even though sleep is still thick in her eyes, her sight is clear. Clearer than it's been in months—years in fact—and she is hit with the meaning of it.
"No," she weakly calls as her mind jump-starts and begins scanning through every choice, every action she has ever made since she first met Sovereign; since she first met Nazara.
Killing the Rachni Queen.
Leaving the Council.
Destroying the Collector base.
Curing the genophage.
Letting Legion upload the Reaper code.
And so many more. What were her choices and what were theirs?
"No," she near sobs and strong hands pull at her. Shepard jumps and pushes at them, not wanting to be pulled under again.
"Charlotte," a dueled voice calls, panic making it shake. "Wake up. I'm right here. Wake up."
She stops resisting and is pulled against a warm chest. Three-fingered hands comb through her hair and a face is tucked into the crook of her neck. A soft hum fills her ears and vibrates through her shaking body. She relaxes; wrapping her arms around a narrow waist and closing her eyes to the sweet song.
A song that is so much better than the oily one at the back of her mind.
"Garrus." She can feel him relax at his name and lightly drags his mandible along her skin affectionately. He pulls back and his blue eyes meet her green ones. His are full of concern and he looks unsure how to ask what she was dreaming of.
"Garrus," she sighs as she pushes harder to keep the song at bay. She needs to tell him. She needs to let him know she's…
He needs to know she's indoctrinated.
For how long, she doesn't know.
She's been around Reapers longer than any other person in the galaxy. Why wouldn't she be indoctrinated?
Garrus presses his head to hers and asks, "Bad dream?"
Shepard feels a burn in her throat as she tries to find the words to tell the man she loves he has to throw her in the brig. Killing her would actually be the best choice, as she has too much influence; is too strong and smart and tricky, but no one on the ship has the heart to do it. Not after everything she's done for them.
She's already aware of it, though. She's already breaking it… or she thinks she is. This could be a temporary thing. In the morning she might think this all to be nothing more than her overactive imagination.
…Is it?
No! It isn't. It is real. She knows it's real and she can't keep listening to the song.
"You ever get them?" she asks, buying time to clear her head, but the question is actually a very good one.
Does Garrus, someone who has been with her every step of the way, does he get them?
He moves to put a bit of space between them. "I tend to expect the worse anyway. So dreaming about it is just a waste of good sleep." He offers her a smile and Shepard feels like the universe has fallen from under her.
He's lying.
He's not trying to burden her with his own fears, like he always does.
He's lying.
No. If it was just her, that would have been bearable—she has been living on borrowed time—but Garrus? He's done nothing wrong. He's only ever tried to make the galaxy better and been screwed over again and again for it. He's followed her to hell and back, no matter how badly he was hurting on the inside. And now this is what he gets?
Will it even matter if she tells him? Will he believe her? Will they let him believe?
For some reason the Reapers are letting them fight against them. For some reason they are letting them rebel. Why? Why do any of this?
The song is trying to take hold again; pushing its way under her skin, wrapping itself around her tongue, muting her questions, ending her doubts….
Just fight. It wants her to fight the war with all her strength. This is a dance they have been doing for longer than she can comprehend. There are acts that need to happen. There are choices that need to be made. It wants her to fight a losing battle.
"Shepard?" Garrus fidgets at her stare and she finally notices he's dressed. He normally doesn't linger long in her room as they both have work to do and people to talk to. Sometimes he's even gone before she wakes. Shepard holds no bitterness at his departures, but right now she wants him to stay, because she is in full control and she's sure her actions and thought are hers. In the morning the ink will bleed into her sight and she'll be sure this was her just overacting.
She's in control… and she knows she still loves him with every fiber of her being. And she's so damn happy that at least her feelings for him are real, even if the rest of the universe is an awful lie.
"Don't go," she urges as she reaches to cradle his face in her hands and kisses him. "Stay." She deepens the kiss, wanting to feel him. Really feel him. To know at least one embrace that is not tainted by the Reaper's song. He breaks the kiss and pulls her body to his.
"I'm not going anywhere, Charlotte." Garrus presses his head to hers, blue eyes deep with adoration. With trust and worry and tenderness and passion and—
"I love you," she whispers breathlessly against his plates as she kisses and touches everywhere she can. Her hands find the clasps of his clothes and he gives a deep chuckle that makes her body flame with a delicious kind of fire.
"Again? So soon? Didn't know I was that good." He dips his head to nip at her shoulder before sliding his hand up her back and releasing the clasp of her bra. She's disappointed he doesn't return her words. He's made them clear with his actions, but she still craves to hear them said in the voice she adores most.
She lies down, pulling him with her, and she lets his blue eyes and hot body keep the dark song at bay.
She lets his beautiful song drown out the other.
Shepard frowns as she heads down to the cargo deck. Her head feels fuzzy and she really hopes she's not coming down with anything.
"You okay?" Garrus asks as he brushes his talon through her short, dark hair; his eyes crinkling with concern at her contorted face.
"Yeah, just feeling a little out of it," she admits with a light shrug.
Garrus laughs. "Well, if someone wasn't so persistent last night she wouldn't be so warn out right now." Then he looks away, almost shyly. "Really, Shepard, what came over you?"
Shepard blushes as she remembers pulling at him as her mouth and hands explored him like it was their first and only time; like there was no tomorrow. Well, there might not be. Not with this war.
"Don't know." She bumps her shoulder into his as the elevator opens. She walks out and looks back at him. "Guess I just can't get enough of you, Vakarian." She winks and she's sure that he would blush if he could.
"Still trying to make me blush, Commander?"
Shepard gives a wicked grin. "You know it. Now let's go rip the Illusive Man a new one."
"Gladly."
Commander Shepard stands in front of the Citadel's AI. Choices. There are choices.
Control. Destroy. Synthesis. Or none, she can always turn away.
"You must choose," the AI urges with a voice mixed with her own, in the body of the child from her dreams—
Her dreams. This boy has haunted her for so long, but how does the AI know that? She's told no one, not even Garrus. So how does this machine know to take this form before her?
It's in her head.
It's in her head.
It's in her head.
The Citadel is in her head.
The Citadel, it controls the Reapers. It made the Reapers. The Citadel is the source of the Reapers and their tech and...
She's indoctrinated. They are all indoctrinated; every-damn-body who has ever stepped foot on the Citadel.
All this time? She just can't understand. Why do this? Why let the brainwashed pawns fight back? Are these choices even real? Why lie if they aren't?
Shepard's attention wavers from the child in front of her, her mind trying desperately to understand everything. To know if any of this even matters anymore.
"There has to be an end." The voice has changed. She hasn't looked away, but where once the little boy stood is now a pale blue Garrus and Shepard staggers back in shock.
The new image holds her attention far better than the previous one and the AI goes on; "A cycle must end for the next to begin. The parents must die for the child to take its place. Without an end there can be no creation. Without death there can be no life." The AI tilts his head in a perfect mock of Garrus. She wants to yell at it to change back, as seeing his face only reminds her of how she left him behind. He was injured, but that still doesn't make being apart from him any easier; doesn't erase the hurt that was shining bright in his eyes at her leaving him.
"You have met the being from the cycle before yours. He was left to show you what your cycle was spared from. Do you understand? His people would have overrun yours; killed you before you had a chance."
She can't help but snort and roll her eyes. You want a thank-you, pal?
"We preserve the best of each cycle and we leave the young species intact. We come when they have begun to choke out life. Do you understand?" The AI asks, with a bit of insistence in a voice far too dueled.
"And creatures like the geth…" she says slowly, trying to understand its logic, "they upset the balance? What? Have whole cycles been wiped out before you could 'preserve' them?"
"Yes."
Shepard shakes her head. "I don't understand. You let me come here. You could have left me to bleed out next to Anderson and you would have won. But… but you brought me up here. You're letting me make a choice that can kill you and destroy everything you've made, everything you are! Why? Just tell me why?" She's so angry. It is letting them win. For some reason it is letting them win. Every damn things she's done, every bit of progress the species of the galaxy has made—coming together, working as one—it doesn't matter.
Garrus steps closer and she wishes the blue eyes looking at her were the right color blue. He would understand this. He's always been the smarter one. He would take one look at this and call bullshit. He would know what to do. He would know what's right.
"You are the avatar of this cycle. The one all others have chosen to rally behind. You are the first to make it here. Even under my control you still made your own choices. No one has broken my control on their own before." He pauses. "You have shown me that my time here has completed. That it is time for me to end so something else can begin. I no longer have the answer. Only the children do."
Outside she is aware the Reapers are not attacking, only defending. They are waiting for her choice.
"You must choose." Garrus steps aside and there is no more time left. So she steps past the ghostly image of her lover and steels herself. Either it's lying, and none of this matters, or she has the power to end this bitter war once and for all.
Control. It's not something she can stomach. Each Reaper is born from a cycle. Each one is the last trace of its kind and they have been forced to kill like they were killed; forced to fight an endless fight. If anything needs to die, it's them.
Synthesis. There is something beautiful about it; too beautiful, in fact. It's not meant for her ugly galaxy.
Destroy. That's what she's started this fight to do. She will die. Hell, she's half dead already. But she hopes that the AI was speaking the truth when it said everything can be repaired. And why not? Machines break and they are fixed. The relays, the ships, the geth, EDI… but will the Reapers stay dead? They might, as they are an ungodly mix of organic and inorganic.
Charlotte raises her gun and shoots as she walks.
She knows she has made the best choice. She knows there is nothing more she can do.
She smiles, remembering the bitter farewell said not even an hour ago.
'I love you.'
Took you long enough to say it.
There is a discharge of red colored energy. The commander stares up at the black bodies of the Reapers and feels a sense of bone deep relief as the light encases them and they sag; dead. The ships keep shooting until their guns seem to fail and she hopes she hasn't doomed them. She can see that the engines are still glowing, a little weaker than they should, but that's all she can tell as the Citadel begins to explode around her. The shield above her is holding strong for the moment and Shepard hopes she won't be spaced this time.
Above her the Crucible is in flames and below she sees the arms of the Citadel ignite in a fierce hot white as the space station enters Earth's atmosphere.
"Commander!" Hackett's voice is in her ear and she wonders if he's real or a delusion from the blood loss. She's not even sure how she's standing right now.
"Commander, you did it! Shepard we won—" The comm cuts and she's sure they have finally noticed the falling star. "Shepard do you read me?" His voice is fuzzy. "Are you still on the station? Shepard are you—?" The comm cuts again and she is partly thankful. She wants to die in peace.
Earth is so… big. Has it always been this big? How has she never noticed it before? God, it's beautiful. Even dotted with bits of fire and debris, her home is beautiful.
Hot tears stream down her cheeks as she falls to her knees. She lets go of the gun in her hand, because for once she doesn't need it.
She'll never need it again.
Streaks of white wash over the shields around the heart of the Citadel and Charlotte laughs.
Charlotte laughs.