Something was up. For hours, the footfalls outside her room had been more hurried than usual, urgent. She wrinkled her brow and took a swallow from the now tepid coffee she held, giving the door a hard stare. No use for it, if she was needed, they'd escort her out to whatever was going on. As it was, she was being left out of the loop and had been for the last six months. Everything she did was monitored, even her time on the extranet was limited to checking emails once a week though she had only received mails from her mother and, on occasion, her father.
She resisted the urge to sigh and put the coffee cup down harder on the table than she had meant, it made a loud clack as it sloshed some its contents over the brim. She brushed the nonexistent spray off of her and straightened the blouse of her uniform. Initially, she had gone back to wearing the uniform to serve as a reminder to the defense committee and whoever else of who she was - is. Now she felt that its only function was to remind herself alone. She felt along the collar, her fingers brushing against the bars that she had refused to remove. She was sure that someone had something to say about it but what were they going to do? Demote her again?
Thinking about her demotion sent a nervous chill through her. She had served in the Alliance for fourteen years and had driven herself to build an impressive career. She had doggedly followed the "hearts and minds" doctrine when dealing with alien races, going against her personal wishes on several missions as a result. Risked her life over and over again on missions to cover Alliance fuck ups and silence its annoyances. Had done everything in her power to make sure that she was seen as some sort of paragon, that humanity was an ally the Council wanted to have by her example. Was this how it ended - under house arrest, paraded in front of human dignitaries, her warnings to them and the defense committee ignored as they sat smugly on their asses?
She turned herself in because she thought that she could make a difference if she returned to an Alliance post. That even if she advised them in some sort of unofficial role, that at least humanity would be prepared when the Reapers came. Yet here she stood, locked in a room and she'd be genuinely surprised if she found that any of her advice on weaponry or fortifications had been taken to heart. How much time had she bought them with Bahak? A few months? A year? Maybe two? Shepard flexed her jaw, the muscles on her face loosening, grinding her teeth would only add to her headache.
A flicker of motion outside caught her eye. The boy had come out to play. She smiled as she watched him hold a toy ship in the air weaving around the yard. She could make out "Normandy" printed on the side of it. Bionic eyes, too? Christ. The implant toward the back of her skull buzzed uncomfortably and she rubbed her forehead wearily.
She had resisted getting an implant when her powers began to manifest, though her parents made her receive training on how to control it, they had enough clout to make sure that she was not entered into the biotic database. When she had enlisted, she signed on to become a regular groundpounder, later entering an infiltrator school - had it been known, her wants would have been ignored and she would have been sent straight to a training camp. Biotics in her units could tell she held some inclination, but most assumed that her powers were latent. Thanks to Lawson and the L5 she installed, Shepard lit up like a beacon on meters and could no longer pass off her abilities as something of no consequence. She wondered what that meant for her now. This is not exactly how I was, Cerberus.
It would be such an easy thing to charge out of the room to where the boy played. She felt herself pulse as she focused on a spot in the yard, the release was always a heady thing for her, almost euphoric. So easy. Since her acquittal of destroying the Bahak System - inconclusive evidence - she could claim Spectre privilege and no one would -
She quickly released the energy as she heard James stop in front of the door. His gait had a heavier sound than most. Even if it were not the case, he was the only one that ever entered her room. She wondered why Anderson chose him to guard her. She knew that Vega was sympathetic to her and wouldn't get in her way if she chose to leave. Hell, he'd probably help her if she demanded it. Anderson had to have known, would have known she would instantly pick up on it. Was he offering her a way out if she chose to take it? Did he know she wouldn't?
"Commander," he drawled. She shook her head, was he even aware of any of this?
"You're not supposed to call me that, James."
"Not supposed to salute you either," he said as he snapped off a salute. "We gotta go, the defense committee wants to see you."
James was rarely this abrupt. The people walking quickly past the door didn't slow and peer in to catch a glimpse of their captive as usual. Something was up, her heart thudded in her chest, not now. "Sounds important."
She had to quicken her pace to join Vega as people rushed past them. "What's going on?"
"Couldn't say. Just said they needed you. Now."
Shepard felt her stomach sink. Previous meetings with the committee were scheduled weeks in advance. The Alliance military never did anything on the fly unless something major was happening, the paper pushers would not be rushed with their forms otherwise. Still, it was nice to step out of her cell and go about unnoticed for the time being.
She felt the corners of her lips quirk up as she spotted Admiral Anderson striding toward them, the throng of people making sure to carefully step around him instead of jostling into him like they had with James and herself. She was happy to see him. Why was he here? Council business?
"Anderson."
"Admiral," James said, saluting.
"You look good, Shepard. Maybe a little soft around the edges. How are you holding up since being relieved of duty?"
Soft? The only thing Shepard had available to do during the past six months to relieve stress was work out. She was fairly certain her body was in better shape than it had been in years. She playfully patted her stomach. "It's not so bad once you get used to the hot food and soft beds," she answered. Truth was, it had been miserable. She couldn't recall a time where she felt as frustrated or alone as she had during her incarceration.
"We'll get it sorted out." He knew. She was grateful he didn't press it.
"What's going on?" she asked as she dodged a few more bodies. If anyone knew, Anderson did.
"Admiral Hackett's mobilizing the fleets, I guess word has reached Central Command. Something big is headed our way."
Her feet felt glued to the floor, "The Reapers?"
Anderson stopped to address her and shook his head, "We don't know, not for certain."
You're lying. "What else could it be?"
His eyes narrowed, "If I knew that," he trailed off.
A few years ago, her word of the Reapers was enough for him to be a believer. Since joining The Council and her involvement with Cerberus, his belief in her began to waver. Why? She had provided him regular reports when she fought against the Collectors, had given him a very detailed account on what they had found at the base, including holos of the human reaper. She had destroyed it and the base of course - no one should have that technology, not even humanity.
She read between the lines, We'll discuss this when we get to the meeting. She grit her teeth, you have to make them listen to me, goddammit. "You know we're not ready if it is them."
"Tell that to the defense committee."
What good would that do? "Unless we're planning to talk the Reapers to death, this meeting is a waste of time." She had tried talking to the defense committee, her warnings of the Reaper threat and the necessary steps to bolster their defenses were dismissed. The way they spoke to her during the last meeting reminded her of her conversation with the Council the year before, Ah yes, "Reapers". If it didn't mean the end of her species, she wouldn't mind leaving them under Harbinger's foot. Did it have feet? Maybe they were tentacles - it looked like a squid to her.
Anderson took a different approach, "They're just scared, none of them have seen what you've seen. You faced a Reaper. Hell, you even spoke to one, then you blew the damn thing up. You've seen how they harvest us, what they plan to do to us. You know more about this enemy than anyone."
Shepard didn't feel sympathy for them. How many years had she warned everyone about the Reapers? How many times was her advice ignored? She had met with the committee, had repeatedly petitioned for more meetings when none of the members of the board would hear her, had stayed on Earth on the off chance that she would be here if one of them did decide to hear her. They should be scared, humanity was going to be up shit creek once the invasion began because they refused to do anything. The colonists in those vats, awake and screaming as they were fed into tubes... she mentally shook herself and narrowed her eyes.
"Is that why they grounded me? Took away my ship?"
The Admiral stopped, annoyance radiating from him. "You know that's not true. When you blew up the Batarian Relay, hundreds of thousands of Batarians died!"
"It was that or let the Reapers walk through our back door!" You weren't there, I had no choice!
"I know that, Shepard," his features softened, "and so does the committee. If it wasn't for that, you would have been court martialed and thrown into the brig."
Hackett pulled strings and those committee assholes don't know anything. She seethed. She didn't have an "official" court martial, but being grounded, taking ships, house arrest, and being relieved of duty were just the sort of punishments that came from court martialing. You can put lipstick on a pig... "That and your good word?"
"Yeah, Shepard, I trust you and so does the committee."
Bullshit. "I'm just a soldier, Anderson, I'm no politician." I'm done with this. If they aren't going to listen to what I have to say, I'm leaving tonight. I've wasted six months on these people.
"I don't need you to be either. I just need you to do whatever the hell it takes to help us stop the Reapers."
The doors leading into the lobby for Central Command slid open and with it, the faint smell of Kaidan's cologne. Now's not the time to get nostalgic, she chided herself, though it did take the edge off of her anger - he always had that effect on her. A woman with a holopad in her hand approached them, "They're expecting you two, Admiral." People seemed hurried even in here, it had to be serious. The woman led them further into the lobby.
"Good luck in there, Shepard" James said from behind her. He knew the headache she had had filling out the piles of paperwork to request meetings with the committee, he had delivered the packets himself. He also became the bearer of bad news once they decided to start blowing her off as well.
She turned and shook his hand, "Thanks, James. I'm going to need it."
"It looks like whatever this is is pretty bad, they'll have to listen to you this time."
"I hope so." She gave him a small smile. If this went south, he would help her leave, no question. Things were looking up already.
"Anderson." She froze, her hand briefly tightened its grip on James'. He gently squeezed her hand, it was a small comfort. "Shepard." Breathe.
She turned to face him. The past two years, despite dusting his temples with grey, had been kind to him. When she had first seen herself in a mirror after waking up in the Cerberus lab, she had been dismayed to see that she looked to be in her early twenties, all of the scars and fine lines she developed that made her her had been erased. Now she was confident that she wouldn't look as haggard as she felt. She had been worried that people wouldn't take her seriously after that, but people feared and respected her name, regardless of her looks. The thought made her straighten her shoulders. "Kaidan," she answered steadily.
"How'd it go in there, Major?" Anderson asked, Shepard could feel her eyes widen.
"Okay, I think. Hard to know. I'm just waiting for orders now."
She hadn't known. When did this happen? "Major?" she asked, Kaidan looked slightly embarrassed.
"You hadn't heard?" Anderson sounded surprised. He looked at the two of them, a confused frown beginning to form. The Admiral had known about her relationship with Alenko aboard the SR-1, probably assumed that she would be the first to know about his promotion. Finding out this way stung. She supposed she could understand, Alenko was a career man and she had become a pariah. "Maybe when this is all over..." When did it ever end with her?
"No, I hadn't." She debated whether she should expand on this or not but let it drop. Her voice sounded foreign to her ears, a much sharper tone than she usually used. She hadn't spoken to him since Horizon, hadn't heard from him since that email he sent a couple weeks afterward.
"Sorry, Shepard, it's been, well..."
Spare me. "That's okay. Just," she hesitated, You could have at least emailed me, "glad I bumped into you, Major." She felt dismayed, it really was over. She'd revisit this when she had time later but she didn't have the time to dwell on it now. "Congratulations on the promotion, sir."
Anderson looked at Kaidan and winced. Her tone and wording was carefully impersonal, a subordinate speaking to a superior officer. Much, much later.
Both men quickly closed their features off. "Thanks, Shepard. It was good to see you, too."
"Admiral," the woman from the front lobby called.
"Come on."
Her legs felt mechanical, her back ramrod straight as she followed behind Admiral Anderson. From the corner of her eye, she could see Kaidan, no, Major Alenko give her a small smile and a nod. She couldn't bring herself to look at him directly. Focus on the meeting.
As she entered the chamber, chatter between the board members ceased. People that were intently studying holopads looked up, those facing away from the door slowly turned around to face where she and her mentor stood. God, what colony has been lost?
"Admiral Anderson, Shepard," a balding man addressed them from a long table in the center of the room, the holoscreens in front flickering off.
"What's the situation?" she asked. This was her in her natural environment. A soldier approached her and handed her a pad. When everything goes to shit, call Commander Shepard.
"We were hoping you would tell us." With what information, idiot?
"There are reports coming in are unlike anything we've ever seen," the woman with greying hair to the man's left answered. "Whole colonies have gone dark. We've lost contact with everything beyond the Sol Relay."
"Whatever this is, it's incomprehensibly powerful," the man finished.
They're here, anger surged through her, why didn't any of you do something? She finished scanning over the report she was handed and fixed the ineffectual group with a glare, "You've brought me here to confirm what you already know, the Reapers are here." The room shifted nervously, still want to tell me those are just Geth ships?
"Then, how do we stop them?" the woman asked.
Now they asked, now they were ready to listen, but it was too late. It had taken her months to bolster the SR-2's defenses and weaponry to withstand the Collector base. These people had the power to do the same to many ships in a fraction of the time she had needed. Time had run out, they likely only had hours at most if they were lucky. She remembered feeling amazed at how fast Sovereign could fly on Eden Prime, very lucky, she amended. "Stop them?" she repeated, almost mockingly. "This isn't about strategy or tactics, this is about survival!" Shepard knew that a few members in the room would still be resistant and find her speech melodramatic but she had to get the ones who were now listening to understand. The Reapers weren't coming to fight a war, they were coming to annihilate sentient life. They were an enemy whose very proximity would turn people into their puppets. Leaders would command their followers not to fight against the Reapers, the media would purposefully misinform to sabotage defense efforts, willing sacrifices, running to their deaths with open arms... she began to walk toward the table, her tone taking on staccato-like quality to drive home her message. "The Reapers are more advanced than we are, more powerful, more intelligent. They don't fear us and they'll never take pity on us." She stopped in front of them, carefully schooling her face to stare down the defense committee belligerently. They were bending, hear me.
"But," the woman gasped, "there must be some way."
Her emotions swung from disgust to pity. "If we're going to have any chance of surviving this, we're going to have to stand together."
"That's it?" the bald man asked incredulously, "That's our plan?!" Shepard's hands balled into fists, she willed herself to relax, now was not the time to lose her temper. If she shook him by his collar and called him a dumbass for not making any preparations, the meeting would dissolve into a finger pointing fest. She hoped she would be able to in the future, but today was not the day. With the other races, stupid!
"Admiral! We've lost contact with the Lunar base!" a voice interrupted.
"The Moon? They couldn't be that close already," Anderson sounded shocked, I am sorry, old friend.
"How did they get past our defenses?"
Shepard knew, but stayed silent. Sorrow washed over her, two years lost on that operating table. She would never have allowed The Council to cover up what happened during the Battle of the Citadel, would have pressured the Alliance into preparing for the inevitable invasion. She should have taken some time off, let someone else clear the Geth pockets and regrouped. Would she still had died if she had? Would Kaidan be just "Major Alenko" or would he be standing beside her, quietly supporting her as she tried to explain just how serious the Reapers were? Resignation settled in as she watched the panic flicker across the faces of people furiously waving between screens. They've arrived, she felt as if she had aged one hundred years in an instant.
"Sir, UK Headquarters has a visual." A screen behind them came on, the feed showed a lot of interference, the picture had a lot of static and the sound came distorted but it was clear enough. London burned as a soldier stood in rubble, screaming something that she couldn't quite make out, though the look of fear on the man's face was easy to see. A Reaper screamed in the distance. The rubble behind the soldier exploded, flinging his body toward the screen before the signal was lost. The room became silent save for the holoscreen that was now displaying feeds from around the world, each displaying at least one Reaper in each city, reducing the buildings to rubble.
"Why haven't we heard from Admiral Hackett?" Anderson asked, worriedly.
"What do we do?"
Shepard looked down, there's nothing left to do, this is it. She took a breath, looked at the frame on the screen and collected herself. "The only thing we can," she said pointing behind her, "we fight or we die." The committee looked at each other in horror. She couldn't blame them, it was a terrible thing to suddenly have your sense of security yanked away. She had felt it when she fought the human reaper in the Collector's base.
"We should get to the Normandy," Anderson said quietly. I should never have left it. The building rumbled ominously and everyone turned to the large windows overlooking Vancouver. Her eyes narrowed, she knew that sound, where was it? The clouds in the distance began to flash red as it descended, Shepard could feel the adrenaline coursing through her.
"Oh my god," someone said as it started firing on buildings, it was turning in their direction.
Get away from the windows, her mind screamed. "MOVE!" she yelled, sprinting toward the doorway, looking for any sort of cover. "Go, go, go!" The glass shattered behind her and the concussion from the blast knocked her forward. Luckily, it knocked the table where the heads of the committee had been sitting moments ago above her. She rolled into her fall, scrambling to regain her footing. She turned and faced the window, the Reaper was charging another shot, shit. It was so damn quick that she only managed to stand up before being propelled against the wall, her body painfully slamming into something hard with sharp angles. Dazed, Shepard tried to remember if there were benches lining the wall to try to stay conscious. I'm so tired of all of this, she thought as the the world turned black.
AN: This, for those of you who just scrolled down, is a retelling of ME3. Spoilers abounds! I don't plan on following the game dialogue as closely as I did in this chapter but I do want to keep it fairly similar. For those of you that can't get into a story unless the Shepard is similar to yours, this one is Spacer/War Hero/Alenko/Paragon-slight Paragrade. Kind of torn on the jobs at the moment, but will probably opt for infiltrator. I am also making an effort not to describe Shepard's physical features (hair,skin, eye color). Maybe hints of Vega... not too sure about that. Citadel crushed my headcanon to bits, boohoo. Not terribly thrilled with the title either, but this will do for now. Reviews appreciated. Writing action/fight sequences is not my strong suit, if you have any suggestions, let me know!