Mass Effect: Search for Shepard
Jennie D. & Walter M. Elmore
based on Mass Effect series by BioWare
Every moment he spent in thought, visions and memories tormented him. He sat there and thought of the first time they met. He was knee-deep in finding information on a rogue agent when he first laid eyes on her. Information had led them to the same lead at the same moment. Fate, maybe? As much as he tried to concentrate on calibrations, it was futile. Minutes seemed like hours, days felt like years. Ever since the end of the Reaper War and they made it back to the Citadel, he had spent every waking moment trying to get back to Earth. Only a few moments ago did he manage to gain passage on a derelict vessel. His mind was so preoccupied, the name escaped him. All that mattered to him was finding her.
She never did do anything the easy way and she was always getting herself into trouble. Damned suicide runs. He chuckled to himself at the thought. She did love tempting fate, always sticking her nose into affairs that didn't concern her. It didn't matter to her. She always did what was ethically right. That's why so many followed her. She has always been magnetic. Even the hardest mercenary or most powerful biotic found themselves bent to her will. The funny thing is, she didn't bend them by force… but love. It was always love. Human or not, she had a deep respect and admiration for all races. She had a knack of finding perfection in imperfection. She took his imperfection and made it hers. It was like she said, there was no Vakarian without Shepard.
He thought of the last time he had seen her. It was the last push to the beam when Harbinger blasted between them sending a Mako nearly on top of him and Liara T'soni. That was when he was pulled from her. She'd better not be at that bar, she can't be. He felt it. Somewhere deep within him, he knew she was still out there.
While everything was still swirling in his mind, a voice came on the comm. "Sir, we dock in five." Good, he thought and ushered a quick "thanks." He was getting restless as they eased into the docking bay. The Citadel was a mess from what he heard, bodies piled everywhere. He tried not to think about it. So many people had died in the war, so many of his friends. The Crucible wasn't discriminatory against the Reapers, either. EDI, Legion, and the geth in general were destroyed as well. Wasn't she partly synthetic? Cerberus rebuilt her using synthetics. She made it, though, he told himself. She must have.
When the airlock opened, he was greeted by a familiar face. Dr. Michel was standing there, data pad in hand and smiling. "Now, isn't this a ghost from my past?" She offered her hand, which he shook. "I know you haven't had decent meal in a bit. Lunch is on me"
"Yes, ma'am." This was actually starting to become custom, which is how he was able to get this far. He was, after all, known to be part of Shepard's entourage. Everyone was always accommodating and ready to offer a drink, meal, or passage to him. "How is work in Huerta?"
"Well, with the influx of patients after…well, you know. But that's not really what you're asking." She stopped. "You're looking for her."
She knew, then. "Yes… I am."
"You know, ever since that day with Fist's goons, I knew you two would be for each other. I saw it, whether the two of you knew it at that moment or not," she said as they sat in Apollo's Café. "I tell you what. Let me check a few sources and see if I can send you in the right direction. No promises. Consider this appreciation for helping me all those years ago."
"I'd appreciate that."
His heart skipped a beat when Dr. Michel said she had sent a comm to some of the clinics on Earth. Apparently because of the mass of people admitted into Huerta, they had to transfer those who were stable yet not able to yet be discharged to a few hospitals on Earth that were still standing or needed minor repairs. One in particular was located in Vancouver. Dr. Chakwas had sent a response that there were a few women there that had been admitted and were about the same age and size as Shepard. There were, however, two that possibly could be her. One was burned beyond recognition and in a coma. She was not expected to survive much longer. The other's face was severely swollen. Her jaw was broken and had to be surgically screwed shut. She also suffered from a GSW to the right shoulder. He tried not to be overly hopeful as he boarded a shuttle that would take him to the hospital there. Somehow he managed to remain composed as he entered the lobby. He felt like he was shaking all over. Get it together, Vakarian. He was a Turian, after all.
There, like she said, Dr. Chakwas was waiting for him with her data pad, both patients' files pulled up for briefing. If neither is she, she's here somewhere. He could feel it. "Garrus, it's been awhile. Chloe informed me of your personal mission. I am optimistic, but I warn you: there is a chance that she's not a patient. But let us not think on it. "
"I agree. As grim as it may be, I prefer to be hopeful."
"Dr. Chakwas?" A medical assistant motioned for her. A moment later, she was back.
"As I feared, the burn patient didn't make it."
"Shepard is a survivor. She wouldn't just go… like that."
"I hope you're right, Garrus. I hope you're right."
They walked up the hallway of the second floor of the north wing where the patients who were coherent but needed physical assistance were housed. As he passed each room, he noticed soldiers with amputations, prosthetics, or were simply incontinent. War had crippled them technologically. Earth hospitals reverted to their medical practices that were common at the time of the First Contact War. War. The word resounded in his mind. Always war.
They stopped at a door near the end of the hallway. He blocked out Dr. Chakwas' voice as he stood there staring at the door. What if it's her? What if it's not? He wrung his hands together. "Don't push it," he heard her say. That was when he was resolved to enter this patient's room.
She lay there, almost motionless save for the slow turning of her head. If it's her, given her swollen facial features, will she be able to recognize me? He walked over to the patient. The room was dimmer than most but not too dim. Light sensitivity is what Dr. Chakwas said. Same color eyes. Same hair. "I'm not sure what I need to say or…" At that moment, the woman's left hand reached and grabbed his arm. That's when he saw her. Really saw her. "You don't know how glad I am that you're not sitting in that bar waiting for me." A tear fell down her face. "Hey, I'm not leaving and I dare anyone to make me." He leaned in. "Or they can have a talk with my M-98 Widow." he told her just before kissing her cheek.