Bullets were flying past her ears, hitting those who weren't as carful or as fast as she was. The occasional slug burrowed itself into her Mercenary X armor, of course, but she just kept running, evading the erratic shots. Under the helmet covering her eyes, her lips were curled into a feral leer, one she wore in every blood-curdling battle. There was something, a feeling, perhaps, that she loved in such moments. There was no time to ponder that now; she'd do it back on the ship, if she ever made it out alive in the first place.
Bang! Another slug hit her in the reinforced chestplate, setting her back a couple paces, but never slowing her down. "Come on, you lazy sissies!" she screamed to the men behind her, never bothering to glance across her shoulder to see if they were even still there. "Let's wipe out these Batarian slaver bastards!" her voice was already hoarse from all the screaming she'd been doing, but it was the last of her concerns at the moment. If an aching throat was the worst of her ailments at the end of the day, she'd be thanking the Lord up above; she'd have to start believing in him first, of course, but after this mission…It wasn't such an outlandish possibility, what with the goings on.
Her back hit the thick steel barricade as she dropped to avoid another rapid-fire. Where is that goddamned sniper?! Her thoughts were racing as she held fast to her gun, chancing a quick glance over the edge of the cargo box she'd hidden behind. She turned her face to the last few soldiers that had breached into the base together with her, eyeing each one with a long gaze. "Okay, listen up, ladies," she shouted over the sound of bullets raining down on their cover. "That's the last of them fuckers, and we've got to hit them with everything we've got. I know many of our friends died today, but that's precisely why we have to keep on fighting!" She hated that she couldn't see their faces, their feelings - their fear - under those helmets. She had no way of knowing if they were even ready, or already crying. No matter, Lynn, she reminded herself, her inner voice strict, but audibly tired. "The drinks are on me the next time we get shore leave, girls! Just make sure you'll be there to down them!" she finished her last command. Her last words to what was left of a whole squad. What else was she to say? Could she have done it any differently? But most importantly:
Would it have changed anything?
No matter, Lynn, rang in her thoughts even as she kept staring at Admiral Hackett, her voice hollow as she finished her report. She was drained, dark circles under her eyes, but her own mouth kept on going without her, repeating the events of that horrific day in every excruciating detail. After all, Shepard always did what was asked of her, didn't she?
The Alliance command declared the mission a success, even if the woman herself had objected. Her pleas to leave the thing well alone and give her an honorable discharge were ignored; even more, she was promoted. Commander Shepard. The rank was like scalding coffee on her tongue, bitter and burning. She had done nothing to deserve the title! Getting a whole squadron of good, trained marines killed took a heartlessness she didn't think she had."What have I become?" she whispered into the empty room.
The question floated, unanswered, in the air before her, as the newly anointed Commander stared at herself in the small mirror of her new quarters' bathroom. For killing a hundred men, she'd been given a promotion, a fancy medal and even a terrifying moniker; at least 'The Butcher of Torfan' she could agree with it. It was the only thing she deserved among the three. But what could she do? Shepard had always obeyed orders; a soldier to boot. She had been raised that way, trained that way and had been living that way for the past ten years. The army was her sanctum, her refuge ever since her family had been killed by the very slavers she herself had killed on Torfan. The military took her in, gave her a place, a purpose; they gave her a second chance. And in return? Excellent work, Lynn. You've sacrificed a whole lot of good men for your own petty vengeance.
"Good God," she murmured into the deafening silence around her, leaning her burning forehead on the gentle, cool feel of glass.
"Reminiscing again, Commander?" came a warm voice from behind her, rousing her from her memories. She shook her head to clear her befuddled mind. Silly you, she reprimanded herself sternly even as she hastily scrambled to her feet, saluting the Captain. "I'm sorry, Captain Anderson," she replied, but she couldn't mask the weariness in her voice well enough to fool the man.
"It's alright, Shepard," her replied with a smile, allaying her worries. Even though she hadn't been serving with the famous Captain long, she could already see why he had such a good reputation among the soldiers. He was kind and took his time to know the crew. But most of all, he didn't pick on them just for the fun of it, like many officers were wont to do.
She offered a small, tired smile of her own in return, and let her hand fall to her side. "It's just all this mess with Torfan, Captain." The words spilled from her lips before she could stop herself. Damn, she bit her tongue, but it was already too late.
"Don't worry, Commander," the man answered, taking a seat across the table. "I'd be much more concerned if you weren't bothered by it all, actually," he smiled again and intertwined his fingers. "That mission was a difficult one, Shepard. I'd dare say that almost anyone else would've failed it spectacularly. The casualties were high, that's for sure, but at least you got the job done," he continued with that calm, deep voice while his warm eyes regarded her still.
It was stupid, really, to break like a youngling after her first action; and before her commanding officer no less! But what was done was done and as she had no way to rectify it, she might as well go with it. "Thank you, Captain. I guess I needed to hear it from someone other than the Admiral," her smile was still half-hearted, but at least her eyes were a little brighter.
"Don't mention it, Shepard," he smiled even wider and rose back to his feet. "I take it you'll be back to your fullest by tomorrow, then?" he winked, and she could almost, almost sense an undertone of mirth in his voice. But officers don't joke, do they? Confused, she kept staring at his back even as he retreated up the stairs and to the CIC.
AN: This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic with actual plot, so bear with me. I've no way of knowing how often I'll be updating, but reviews, critique and the like will certainly stoke my motivation. *hint hint nudge nudge*