Shadows on the Horizon
Disclaimer: This story, which is called "Shadows on the Horizon", is an independent fanfic. Neither this story, nor the author is authorized or sponsored by, nor licensed or affiliated in any way with any entity involved with or representing the development, marketing, distribution or support of EA, or BioWare Corporation. All titles, items, and characters, described or referred to in "Shadows on the Horizon" of the original game are trademarks of their respective companies. This fanfic is absolutely non-commercial and non-profit, and may not be distributed in any forms or in any parts without prior consent of the author " ".
Author's Note: Shadows on the Horizon is a story that will explore Commander F!Shepard's experiences through Mass Effect, Mass Effect 2, and Mass Effect 3. There will be spoilers for each of these games throughout the story. Reviews and/or constructive criticisms are welcome. Questions about the story are also welcome through PMs.
"War is hell, but that's not the half of it, because war is also mystery and terror and adventure and courage and discovery and holiness and pity and despair and longing and love. War is nasty; war is fun. War is thrilling; war is drudgery. War makes you a man; war makes you dead."
-Tim O'Brien, The Things They Carried
Shepard's gaze hovered over the night sky as it glittered with a million flecks of light.
She had been outside for hours already, drink in hand, watching as the sun lulled on the horizon and then faded into the shadow of night. She sat and watched as dark storm clouds began to brew in the stretch of her vision; watched as the occasional speckle of light illuminated the menacing mountains in the distance.
It was all so bizarre and ordinary at the same time, really.
Two weeks of shore leave had her doing nothing and thinking about everything. Her service career was moving forward in ways she wasn't expecting; a slew of medals decorated her uniform due to her actions during the Blitz and she found herself very close to her next promotion due to her willingness to go above and beyond what was asked of her by her commanding officer.
Shepard took another drink from the beer bottle in her hand.
Her social life, however, was a completely different story. She was damn near thirty years old and everything was a wreck. She was lucky to count the number of friends she had on one hand. Her romantic life had practically been dormant for a number of years; she couldn't even remember the last time she had been on a date, let alone start thinking of getting married or having children.
Shepard took a small, discontent breath.
Her thoughts turned to her current predicament, and frustration and disappointment bubbled inside of her. Every shore leave that she could manage, she was always running back to Earth; to a little home on the outskirts of the city that she remembered blissfully growing up in—at least for a time. She always wandered in and stayed for days on end hoping and praying she'd find family here and not end up alone like last time. She was disappointed every single time.
She wasn't sure why she was drawn to this specific place. Her family had only lived there for a limited number of years before they felt she was old enough to move with them from posting to posting due to their military careers.
She shrugged her shoulders lamely at her own thoughts.
Perhaps it was the gorgeous view of the natural landscape that drew her. Maybe it was how calm and serene everything was here compared to everywhere else. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the memories she had held onto and cherished from so long ago. They were simple, innocent things; playing in the dirt, catching butterflies, and baking cookies—
A loud roar of thunder in the clouds overhead shook Shepard from her innermost thoughts. The wind began to pick up speed around her, sending tangles of hair crashing into her face. The soft pitter patter of rain on the leaves of nearby trees signaled it was time for her to get up and move inside.
With a lethargic groan Shepard sat up and wiggled her way out of the hammock she'd been laying in.
Shepard stepped through and closed the sliding door behind of her. The chill of the inside air swept immediately over her wet form and left her with a small, involuntary shudder. She moved a piece of dark hair clinging to her cheek and then looked up as the kitchen lights automatically illuminated the little room after detecting her presence.
A small puddle of water formed under her as she looked around the muted house. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do. She could sit around and watch vids alone the rest of the night . . . but that idea didn't really appeal to her. Searching the extranet for any interesting news or information had already failed twice within the past couple of hours she had spent before going outside. She put the empty bottle from her hand on the counter next to her and tapped her fingers in pensive thought.
A shower.
A hot, relaxing do-nothing-but-stand-under-the-water-for-an-hour shower; Shepard approved.
She made her way to the second floor of the house in a hurry, trying to pry her shoes off her feet one by one as she went up the stairs. A trail of wet clothes followed her as she wove her way through her room and stepped into the bathroom.
An hour and a half later had left Shepard with wet hair, dry clothes, and a renewed feeling of what pruned skin felt and looked like.
She ran a few fingers through her damp hair to try and rid it of some of the tangles that had formed since her shower. On the fifth step back down the staircase Shepard's eyes landed on a few objects next to the front door. Her breath caught in her throat. Luggage. Was it really. ..?
"Eva, darling!" Her mother called out from the kitchen with a wave as Shepard descended the stairs and rounded the corner. "I was wondering when you'd be down."
". . .mom?" Shepard asked, as she stood near the couch in the living room, still crippled with disbelief.
Hannah Shepard looked over at her daughter in the next room and gave her a kind, apologetic smile. "Sorry I'm a little late. I saw one of our old friends from Bekenstein—Aleana Zfrefinburg. Got to chatting with her and didn't realize the time. Do you remember her? She was the one that-."
Shepard wasn't even listening anymore. She hadn't seen her mother in so long that she almost didn't recognize her from this angle. The first noticeable difference that caught Shepard's eye was her mother's hair. The once golden, vibrant tresses had faded so much that she had a vast array of grey-white highlights. A smile inched into the corner of Shepard's lips; her mother's hair reminded her of a tender combination of milk and honey.
As Hannah turned to pour a glass of wine for each of them while still talking, Shepard looked over her mother's facial features. She still looked healthy, quite healthy and young for a woman her age but Shepard's discerning eye knew better. She could see the worry and frown lines that hadn't been there years ago. She could see the semi-dark circles clinging under her eyes and she could see the wrinkles where her forehead would normally crease.
Her mother was a proud woman; she was very outspoken and held a sense of authority that few others could muster. But she also tempered those things with love, compassion, and understanding. Shepard assumed that was one reason so many people looked up to her, respected her, and admired her. Shepard couldn't have asked for a better mother or role model.
An instant pang of regret overwhelmed Shepard at the sudden thought of time missed with the only family member she had left.
"I thought you said you weren't coming?" Shepard interrupted as Hannah moved around the kitchen and into the living room to hand Shepard the glass of deep red wine.
Hannah shrugged noncommittally "At first I wasn't. I had a long list of things I needed to do and reports to lead and projects to accomplish. . ."
Shepard finally took the glass from Hannah's hand and watched as her mother planted herself on the couch behind them. Shepard followed suit, and looked over at her mother after taking a sip of the bittersweet wine. "What changed your mind?" Shepard asked, curiosity seeping into her tone.
Hannah's lips curled into a pensive frown as she placed her wine glass on a nearby side table. A roar of thunder caught her attention before she looked back over at her daughter. "A feeling," she replied in earnest.
"A . . . feeling?" Shepard's eyebrows lifted in surprise; disbelief was etched on her features.
Hannah gave an affectionate laugh and sought out her daughter's free hand with her own. She gave it a soft, reassuring squeeze. "You'll come to fully understand the expression one day, I'm sure."
Shepard curled her knees under herself and looked out the window behind of them. The rain tapped softly on the glass from the outside storm and the occasional flash of lightning allowed Shepard to see the swaying trees in the backyard.
"I've missed you," Hannah admitted with another gentle squeeze of her hand. "And you've matured too, since the last time I've seen you."
Shepard shook her head and gave a tiny smile of her own. "It's been a while," she confessed.
A few hours later into the early morning and a bottle of wine later had Hannah and Shepard in the floor surrounded by a dozen datapads and lots of old, physical photographs.
"This one?" Shepard asked as she held up one of datapads in her hand.
"That one," Hannah said as she tapped on the screen.
The video started immediately from the beginning but Shepard already had a hint of what the vid was centered around; it was the medal ceremony she had been a part of after the Blitz. She shook her head.
"I'm so proud of you," Hannah said to Shepard as she lovingly touched her cheek.
Shepard sat contemplative for a moment as her mother doted on her. She looked back up at Hannah from the datapad, expression foreboding and serious. "Do you ever feel that you could do more with your life?"
Hannah tilted her head to the side curiously and dropped her hand from Shepard's cheek. "What do you mean?"
Shepard placed the datapad back down on the floor and crinkled her brows in uncertainty. "I just feel like . . . something more is calling me. That I'm not doing enough even when I try my hardest. I . . . don't know. It's hard to explain." Shepard's lips pursed in dissatisfaction.
Hannah's fingers fluttered over the numerous picture albums and datapads strewn around her, losing herself in the memories of had-beens and what-ifs.
"Your father was so proud of you," she mused as her fingers swept over a particular picture. The scene had Shepard's father holding her small frame on his shoulders. They were both laughing, their features lighting up in a never-ending cycle of ecstatic joy and lightheartedness as the hologram played over and over. "He always said you'd be the one to reach out and touch the stars like no one else could."
Shepard responded with a twitch of her lips to show appreciation of the memory.
"You'll find your place one day, Shepard." Hannah reassured her child. "And when you find it, you'll know it in your heart, in your soul; in your entire being." Hannah scooped up a datapad with a wedding scene. "In the end it'll just feel….right."
Shepard watched on in silence, a fleeting tinge of despair welling within the very core of her being. She promised herself that one day . . . one day she'd feel and understand what her mother was talking about.