The shuttle bounced and jostled as it hit a particularly strong patch of turbulence in the air as it took off and the tiny pitter pattering sounds they heard as sand rained against the shuttle's metal hull brought back memories for Shepard. Tuchanka really did remind her of the desert on her homeworld Earth. Sandy, windy, hot, and dry with the sun blazing hot, maybe less thresher maws and Krogans. A feeling of nostalgia settled in her stomach and refused to leave even as she vacated the planet and headed towards the Normandy with her ground team and pilot.
She sat there in the dark corner of the shuttle silently looking down at the floor in what seemed to be dejection. Blood, dirt, and dust smeared her face and splattered her armor, she smelled like smoke, gun oil, and burning flesh. Her hair was in a disarray and yet she was tense as if she was still in the middle of a firefight, her bloody hands were clasped together, elbows resting on her thighs, chin atop her hands and face dark as her emotionless eyes peered out into space. Not looking at anyone or anything, it was as if she was somewhere far away. Alone.
Shadows surrounded her and no one could deny that the heavy tension was a little difficult to bear especially when Shepard was the one brooding. The shuttle bounced and shook the passengers inside when a transmission from Joker came in talking about the mission details and asking questions. When informed about the lieutenant's death, he didn't say anything else but, 'understood commander, Joker out.' his previous enthusiasm dying and cut the line quickly before he could make an even bigger ass out of himself without realizing it.
"You can spend your whole life making up for your mistakes." James looked at the silent brooding commander "At least the guy went out in a blaze of glory." James said to Shepard as if it was any consolation. It was an admirable thing and yet the most difficult choice to make in a soldier's military career. Sacrificing your own life was the ultimate form of redemption not to mention the most useful weapon to produce the best results in a situation given the timing and the mission, that's why suicide bombers were so dangerous. Well, that and no one really talked shit about a soldier who died to make things right. It was all for a cause. A just and right cause that people believed in so strongly.
"We still talking about the primarch's son?" Shepard asked wearily remembering the stunt he pulled on Mars and looked at him through pain filled eyes. Every loss put a darker and deeper shadow on her face and there were times when her eyes were devoid of anything, especially when the talk of war came up as a serious discussion topic among the Normandy crew members. It was scary to catch a glimpse of her face then.
"Don't worry Lola, I'm not going anywhere." he replied gently, his eyes softening. He knew what it was like to be in her position, the one to be left behind, the one to be thinking about all the things that went wrong, and the one to be thinking about what could have been done to save a life.
However, he also knew what it was like to be Victus. The 'trying to make things right no matter what' mindset. Victory at any cost. Exactly like what the turian had said before dropping himself and the trigger mechanism into the hole the moment before it erupted into a fiery blast.
Victory at any cost.
"I'm getting tired of seeing people die." she stood up to face him almost indignantly. The defiance in her face was strong and for someone who spent their whole life witnessing death there was nothing more striking than the sentiment that she seemed to embody.
"Liuetenant Victus fought for a cause he believed in." Javik spoke up, "A soldier can't ask for more than that. He died well." his tone softened at the end and by those words, everyone knew that the prothean meant well. It just didn't do anything to bring back Lieutenant Victus or erase the pain that was there.
"Nobody dies well." Shepard snapped,"I'm tired of saying otherwise." her face was hard and her demeanor was immovable. What Javik had said bothered her, she knew that he meant well and the prothean probably had a closer understanding of the military code and culture that turians learned and abided by than any other species he had encountered so far. But death was a tragedy, any amount of it was. No one could deny it and if they did, it was just petty lip service in honor of the deceased to artifically ease the pain of the ones left behind.
Don't worry Lola, I'm not going anywhere.
Shepard had to supress a little smile as the words of her lieutenant replayed over in her mind as they all walked out of the shuttle and into the elevator to go to their respective cabins and wash off the blood, sweat, and grime that had accumulated on their bodies during the mission.
It had been a hell of a fire fight with Cerberus and all three people were eager to jump into the shower and scrub their skin with sweet smelling soap and have hot water ease their aching bodies.
Don't worry Lola, I'm not going anywhere.
If anything, the words were reassuring and it was sweet of her lieutenant to think about her enough to say something like that. Times had been too heavy and dark for her and even a simple sentence like that could give her hope, dangerous as it was.
Garrus took one look at Shepard, Javik, and James as he stepped into the elevator with them. He had been with them in the shuttle helping Cortez and the ground team with communications with the 9th platoon on Tuchanka.
"Long day." Garrus spoke up in the elevator almost reminiscing the awkward talks they'd all had together when Saren was the only bad guy running around the galaxy. The 'good old days' as the veterans of the Normandy liked to call it.
James snorted,"I'll say." he leaned back against the wall behind him and let out a sigh crossing his arms.
"Well, rest up." Shepard took a step out of the elevator that had stopped at her cabin,"Because we have a lot more work to do." she gave a little salute to the grimacing trio and with a little smile, palmed the door of her cabin and walked inside undoing the buckles and clasps of her armor and shedding them like a skin on the floor.
Shepard stripped down to nothing in the shower and pressed a button on a long metal panel after tossing her dirty clothes down a laundry chute. A moment later, a shower of hot water rained down on her and she sighed a little in content before proceeding to scrub herself of all the blood that had manged to coat her hands in a sticky darkening mess of reddish brown.
If she didn't know any better, it was like her second skin. She paused for a moment letting that thought sink in and just stared at her hands before she scrubbed them with renewed vigor hoping to get it all off.
At least it wasn't her blood.
When she stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed and clean, Shepard stepped towards her desk while towel drying her hair dressed in nothing but a pair of black shorts and tank top. Her desk was a mess of datapads, model ship parts, shotgun mods, and parts of her hardsuit that she hadn't gotten around to fixing quite yet. The chessboard that Aria had sent her after retaking Omega was set aside on the edge of her desk. She had laughed when she saw it, leave it to Aria to give her a trophy.
"Guess I gotta clean that up." she muttered to herself as she reached over to her desk and try to straighten out the datapads threatening to spill over onto the floor.
Don't worry Lola, I'm not going anywhere.
His words replayed over and over in her head.
If only those words could be true, she thought to herself as her hand fell to her side, the datapads forgotten. But she had lost so many people already, people who had promised to see her through the war, people who had promised to have her back. All those sacrifices to keep her living, to keep other people living, to accomplish some petty mission just to reach a greater objective.
They were all gone.
Her hands suddenly balled up into tight fists. She wasn't good enough.
She would have to work harder, she would have to be better, she would have to sacrifice more of herself to prevent anymore losses.
Whatever she could do to ease the deep ache of loss that seemed to radiate from inside of her.
She still wasn't good enough.