Every muscle in her body ached, contracting angrily, painfully. There wasn't a spot on her that wasn't cut or bruised. Her bloodied, cramping fingers that clutched her gun like a lifeline, hurt. Her eyes burned with pent-up tears, in hatred and anger for the little kid standing a few feet in front of her.
His body seemed to be made of light, rays and rays of pure white light, arranged in the form of a human child. The child she'd met on Earth, the one that'd haunted her nightmares.
The whole glowing thing was off-putting to say the least, but it was his eyes that put her most on edge. The way he looked at her, spewing his bullshit about order and stopping chaos and choices, choices only she could make.
Because I'm Commander fucking Shepard. She thought ruefully, fist clenching despite the already constant pain.
The godchild, the catalyst, continued to speak, and she tried to listen, but every single word that came out of the little pisspot's mouth just screamed at her one word.
Wrong.
"You must choose." His words wafted over her, sending another wave of anger down her spine, so potent that for a brief second she forgot all about the pain and just stared at him, hoping all of her hatred and loathing was palpable in her eyes.
He stared right back, eerie luminous gaze unwavering, until Shepard opened her mouth, her voice rasping out.
"There's something you're not telling me." She said, scrutinizing the godchild. "There is another option."
There has to be.
Had she been without the implants, courtesy of Cerberus, she'd have missed it. Anyone would have missed it.
But she didn't.
The pause was infinitesimal, and to anyone else, wouldn't have registered, but she knew. That pause said it all.
Her bloody lips split in a wide grin that stretched her face in a gruesome display of teeth. She laughed, and it came out as a pained wheeze.
"You…little shit…." She said between fits of laughter. She bent over slightly, one arm cradling her torso while the other shook as she chuckled, gun still grasped tightly in her hand. "You son….of a bitch." Her wheezing dissolved into coughs, but that did nothing to quell her good mood.
The godchild stuttered, actually stuttered. "T-there are no other choices-"
"You almost got me." She said, shaking her head slowly, and the hand that held her gun twitched. She brought it up to the godchild and pulled the trigger. "Almost."
The bullet whizzed through him, but there was a little tear, a hole, in his glowing body left by her bullet. His body shimmered in a series of ripple effects that had to be painful, considering that shocked, open-mouthed, incredulous look on his face.
"Hmm" She tilted her head, grin turning into a gruesome grimace. "Not so immortal after all."
The godchild's face contorted, mouth splitting unnaturally wide open, jaw unhinging, eyes glowing red. Out of his mouth—if she could call it that anymore—came the unmistakable sound of a Reaper, it's ear-splitting shriek filling the air, shattering her eardrums instantly.
She stumbled back, uncaring that she slammed into an ambiguous, unforgiving surface. The floor? The wall? Who gave a shit anymore. It's not like anyone was there to catch her fall, to watch her six.
Her molars ground down on each other, hard. Suck it up Jane.
Her grip on her gun didn't falter, didn't waver. She looked around wildly, found the little shit, and pulled the trigger again. While he recoiled at the direct hit, she dove behind cover, taking a deep breath as her body took over. The tension left her shoulders as she slid back into her usual routine. It was easy; methodical, automatic.
Squeeze off a few rounds, breathe, reload. Squeeze off more rounds, breathe, reload. Roll, move, shoot, breathe, reload. Over, and over and over and over, just like Garrus had told her, way back when.
She remembered it with startling clarity, it'd been after some mission, she'd been at the Battery, poised on top of some crates, and they'd been talking about their respective fighting styles.
"You still barrel through enemies like a tank." He said, talons moving over his sniper rifle delicately as it lay in pieces on the floor. He picked up a piece, and began cleaning it with practiced ease.
She rolled her eyes, still-scarred face tingling slightly as she smiled. "So? You know me, I take the direct approach."
His cobalt blue gaze met her green one for a moment. "Trust me, I know." His mandibles shifted in a Turian smile. "Subtly isn't your strong point."
Her grin widened. She wasn't blushing, she told herself firmly. The room's just warm because… the guns need to be in a controlled climate. That's all.
"It still gets the job done."
"Hm." He muttered, not looking up. She could still see the smirk on his face.
"So how do you describe your fighting style Garrus?" She stretched out on the crates as much as she was able. "I'm curious."
His chest rose briefly in a half-laugh. "Well, you know me. I'm all about repetition, about patterns."
"Explain."
"I find my target in my scope, breathe in, pull the trigger, breathe out, and reload. Over and over and over, until they're no more targets." He looked up eyes raking over her as he appraised her silently. "You could do the same thing, instead of barreling through your enemies like a human tank."
She raised an eyebrow, opening her eyes she hadn't realized were closed. "Sharing your secrets Garrus?"
His tone deepened. "I don't mind helping a friend out, giving her some pointers." He shrugged. "You won't get as good as me, but it'll be cute to see you try."
Back when she'd been more human, more humane. Before the ruthless calculus of war and the rising body count and the number of home worlds burning and the billions of people whose lives were riding on her. Before she killed her friends because they stood on opposing sides and before she became this giant intergalactic symbol of hope. Before she was a big goddamn hero.
She took a breath and reloaded.
She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, rolling to cover as the little pisspot tried to blast her body into smithereens.
Before, when she'd been Jane.
The pain in her chest was blinding her, making it harder to move, to think. She forced another breath in and got out of cover, showering the godchild in a barrage of bullets.
A one-woman army, a final stand, a final ray of hope.
She rolled again, gritting her teeth as a jagged piece of metal pierced her in the shin. Her armor was dented and worn, charred black in some places. Her shields were long gone.
She pointed at the godchild, noting with grim satisfaction that he seemed to be weakening. His grotesque, distorted, glowing body was dimming.
Nice to know he's not immortal. She thought with a grin as she kept shooting, pausing only to reload and breathe.
The little shit seemed to condense, it's unholy light collapsing in on itself, building and building, until it was no more than the size of her hand, dense and compact.
And then it exploded.
Great waves of light, of energy, flooded her senses, throwing her body like a ragdoll across the room, slamming her into something hard, making her already spotted vision blur.
Breathing was impossible as the waves continued to crash over her, into her. She fought to keep her eyes open, but they wouldn't listen to her, and fluttered shut.
She dimly registered that the waves had stopped, only to feel the hauntingly familiar feeling of falling, being pulled towards the surface of a planet whose gravity refused to let you go.
She knew she had seconds, if that much, and she couldn't help but want to smile. Just like Alchera, just like before.
But things were different now.
Her mind conjured pictures, faded blurred images of her crew, her friends, the people that were still living, still fighting. And those that were lost. One face stood out above them all.
Blue face paint, scarred face, blue visor, piercing, cobalt-blue eyes; frightening in their intensity.
"Maybe we can see what a Turian-Human baby looks like."
Hope, pure, unadulterated hope, slammed into her with all the finesse of a Krogan. "I'm game, but biology might not cooperate."
Her mind flew forward, to when they stood just feet apart, his bloodied form barely standing on the platform of the Normandy.
Her mouth worked, forcing out the words she knew she had to say. She had to tell him. He had to know.
"No matter what happens here… I love you. I always will."
His mandibles drew in tight against his face, body taught, eyes blazing. He gripped the hand that she'd raised to stroke his scarred face, talons curled around her fingers so tightly she knew he'd left a bruise.
"Shepard…" His voice was the deepest she'd ever heard it, thick with dual-toned emotion. "Jane." She watched as he spoke through the lump in his throat, fighting through the emotions that threatened to pull them both under. "I…love you too."
She felt her body smash onto a pile of rubble, felt every nerve scream in agony. A scream she knew she echoed, if she'd been able to hear.
She couldn't see the sky, couldn't see the stars. She couldn't even see if another piece of debris was about to come crashing onto her body.
All she could see was beautiful cobalt blue, before white started to creep in at the edges. Her body felt weightless, like she was floating in zero gravity, above the white glacial planet that was Alchera. The white crept over the blue, expanding and growing and consuming everything.
Then she felt nothing at all.
A/N: So, this is my first story, I'd appreciate any & all reviews, I wanna know if there's anything I need to change, & if I should make this a 2-shot. Originally I was going to, but if it's better as-is, then I'm not gonna mess with it. Thanks for Reading!