A/N: I've taken liberty with the timeline and for this story's sake, Shepard goes through both the Akuze incident and the Elysium event. Also, the story will be AU in some parts. Enjoy!
Rain of Tears
The world was strangely quiet for a foreign world. No signs of life could be heard or seen from a distance. Only the redness of the sand gave evidence that something happened.
Thunder rolled high in the sky and it darkened quickly, covering the eyes of any observers from the horrifying view.
A bloodied hand thrust upwards, the sand drizzling down the multiple scratches and gashes down the forearm. It slapped hard against the sandy ground and what followed the arm was a gasping face, bruised and swollen, making it unrecognizable to all who knew him.
Blue light flickered briefly around his upper frame as the man reared upwards. Short, pained gasps escaped chapped lips and the man grimaced as he managed to drag someone else up with him. A shorter man, no, a young boy, was brought up along with the soldier. The blond hair was matted with sweat and blood. As the boy was pulled out of their sandy graveyard, more blood pooled out of him.
Once he managed to bring the both of them out of the sand, he fell back on his side with a deep groan.
"Shep..." the blonde gasped and the man clapped his hand over the boy's mouth. The cry echoed in the now empty valley they were in, empty except for the numerous body parts that laid strewn across the bloodied ground.
Another rumble could be heard, but this time it originated ahead of them and the man's eyes widened at the way the sand shifted downwards.
It appeared that the creature wasn't done with them yet, despite having torn through forty-nine Alliance marines. As quickly as he could, the man named Shep attempted to pull the boy with him, his weight slowing their ascent up the side of the mountain. Jagged rocks cut deeply into his hands and back but the man persevered. They were almost there, almost to the top when the nightmarish creature thrust itself forward, its mouth already opened and the soldier stared down into the maw of death.
He tripped suddenly and the boy slipped downwards, held only by his blood-slickened hand.
"...Shep...leave...go..."
"Shut...up..."
"Not...your...fault..." the boy whispered to him, "Shepard!"
A tentacle had wrapped itself around the boy's neck and yanked back, pulling its victim out of Shepard's grip. There was a hoarse scream, not from the boy, but from the man who sat helplessly, watching as the mouth enclosed itself around that youthful face, splitting it open like a melon. Only a lone eye could be seen, staring almost accusingly at the lone survivor and it would forever haunt this man's dream. That and those three last words.
"Lt Shepard!" A familiar voice cracked through the red haze that covered his senses. His hand was already pushed out in front of him, the biotic power thrumming through him. It sizzled around him, in him, through him but the power came at a cost. His mind was on fire and he couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything. He only followed his instincts, which was to fight anything that threatened him, threatened the lives he was protecting.
Instead of the Alliance Marines that jumped down, he only saw blurred armored figures with something pointed at him. They could be those vicious batarians or even human slavers coming to finish him off.
"Lt John Shepard!" That voice sounded awfully closer and he blinked his eyes. A stern looking Captain was gazing steadily back at him, unflinching and unarmed. His body blocked the Vanguard's view of the numerous soldiers piling behind him. "Look at me, son! Look at me!"
Shepard did look at him, really looked at him and the red haze of battle waned, only to give way to the Captain's figure and the alllies standing warily behind him. The colours were red and black, Alliance colours, and what breath Shepard had been holding now expelled out of him in a huge gust of air.
The realization that he had won somehow poured throughout his entire body and so did the agony of pushing his biotic powers too far. White hot pain streaked through his head and neck and traveled down his spine. Every thump, every hoarse shout of an order made the pain even worse and he felt like he was falling.
The Lt pitched forward into the Captain's waiting arms and as the dark-skinned officer barked orders to the rest of the men, he looked fondly down at the unconscious hero, the one who survived Akuze and somehow fought off the ever persistent slavers and raiders for nine straight hours.
"I guess I wouldn't have to tell Admiral Hackett the bad news," he murmured tenderly to John, not really expecting an answer in return. "He already lost so much."
