A/N Mostly for my closure, since I wasn't that contented with the ending, and the gay romance between my Shep and Kaidan. Though I have some plot bunnies in my head so that it isn't just a romance story.
Commander Jon Shepard was no stranger to death. He faced it during the Batarian Raid in Mindoir, and then again during his mission in Akuze. And once he was sent on the mission to catch Saren, death quickly became his constant companion. Still, he survived. He faced down a Matriarch, drove a Mako through a Relay, infiltrated a Collector base in the middle of the Galaxy, recruited the Leviathans, purged Omega of Cerberus and finally carved through Reaper forces in London, only to find himself faced with three unsatisfying choices: destruction of all AI, effectively killing EDI and wasting Legion's sacrifice; controlling the Reapers, a plan he has been against since the beginning; synthesizing organics and synthetics, a risky "forced evolution", the results of which the Commander can't foresee.
"You must hurry," whispered the Catalyst, "your fleets will not survive any longer. Choose, Commander."
"You aren't giving me a lot of great options here!" he snapped back, just as an Asari dreadnought exploded. The Commander cursed.
"Life isn't made of easy choices, Commander. You of all- "
"Don't you dare lecture me about tough choices. I've made them since I entered the Alliance!"
"And now, you will make your last. Choose. Destroy. Control. Evolve. Choose."
"I know, shut up!"
The Catalyst, or at least its hologram, took a step back, watching the Commander. "Fucking AIs," Shepard muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the three roads before him.
Destroy the reapers, control them, or synthesize organics with synthetics. He licked his lips, and tasted the blood. These weren't the decisions he was trained to make. He was a soldier; he planned for combat operation not…this. Whatever "this" is. But maybe it had to be him because he is a soldier. He wasn't someone placed above the death and destruction caused by this war like the Council or the Illusive Man. He was in the thick of everything, watching hundreds die around him. No, it had to be him.
Another dreadnought exploded in the distance.
"Fuck," he didn't know whether it was Asari, Turian, Quarian, Geth, Rachni or Alliance. All he knew was that was another dozen lives lost to this damned war, lives that could have been saved if he had already acted. He had forgotten the rule drilled to his head even before his days in N7: indecision can cost a war. He balled his hands into fists, steeling himself for what's to come, and began to walk. Determined eyes trained ahead.
As an Alliance Marine, as a Spectre, he prepared himself long ago that he might have to sacrifice his life for the greater good. However, his last conversation with Anderson still struck him. Right before the Captain passed, he asked the Commander what he would do when all this was all over.
"I don't really know." Shepard replied. "There's still so much to do, so much to rebuild."
"After, of course," said Anderson. "What will you do after all that? Will you become a soldier again? Fight the good fight, protect the galaxy and all that bullshit?"
"I think I've saved the galaxy enough times," chuckled Shepard. He didn't have the time to think about what he would after the war. Truth be told, he wasn't really expecting to be able to get out of it alive. Surviving more than one suicide mission seemed like a stretch. But still…what would he do?
"Maybe…maybe I might live with Kaidan. If the civilian life suits him, you know? Maybe in Vancouver, I'll cook him steak. Yeah, I think I'd like that. A life. A normal life. You?"
"I think we both know this will be the end of me, Commander Jon Shepard. Well, I hope you will have that life, I think you deserve it. And you can always live in the Citadel, the apartment I gave you might still become livable. But whatever you choose, just know that I'm proud of you son."
For a moment, he believed he could have had that future.
The Commander stopped, panting. He stopped feeling pain halfway. Now, he just felt numb. And disappointed: he would liked cooking that steak.
He stood before two levers surrounded by electricity. He felt like a traitor. He was doing exactly what he tried to prevent the Illusive Man from doing, controlling the Reapers. But considering his other two options, what else could he do?
"Is this how you felt, Mordin?" he mumbled under his breath, one hand inches from the electrical discharge. The Commander chuckled, "It had to be me." He could almost here the Salarian's voice say: "Someone else might have gotten it wrong."
Shepard took one of the levers, electricity quickly coursed through his body. He gritted his teeth, forcing his other hand to move towards the second lever. He blinked away the blood flowing to his eyes as he pictured all the friends he lost to this war.
"Pressley, Anderson, Legion, Mordin, Thane, Ash. Maybe I'll meet you all in the other side." You'll all probably punch me for sparing the Reapers though, especially after you gave your lives to end them.
He took the other lever; the air was knocked out of him when pure energy began destroying him from the inside. He closed his eyes. Images began to form.
The original Normandy and its crew, including the gang of aliens he picked up along the way. Ashley Williams, and the day when she screamed for him to save Kaidan. The day he purged the Collectors, and the smiles of all his crewmates.
He remembered his pride when he saw Wrex ruling Tuchanka, his fear when Miranda infiltrated Sanctuary, his grief during Thane's funeral, his guilt during Mordin's sacrifice, and his joy, overwhelming joy, when Kaidan confessed.
Kaidan.
He saw those long nights in the first Normandy when he realized he was falling for the young Lieutenant. The day when he first died, and the regret he had for not telling Kaidan sooner. His confrontation with him in Horizon, the anger and hurt he felt when the man he loved didn't trust him. The fear when Kaidan was in Huerta. The pride when he became the second human Spectre. But most of all, he remembered their conversation in the Citadel: the day when Kaidan confessed.
The Commander opened his eyes and looked down, his body was already charred to cinders. "Let him live," he muttered under his breath as his eyesight dimmed. "Let them all live." A single tear rolled down his cheek. His last thought was of the picture he framed back in his cabin. The picture he had with all his living brothers and sisters in arms. The Normandy.
Goodbye.
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Eternal. Infinite. Immortal.