Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to BioWare and EA. I own nothing.
Author's Note: Hello all! Not sure if anyone knows this about me, but I'm a fan of odd numbers, and this is the third (and final) installment in what started as a singular prompt and became a trilogy of one-shots. I hope you enjoyed the previous two tales and that you also enjoy this one. The first came about as a prompt from friend and exceedingly talented author, Drummerchick7, and the second was written as a gift for Miranda le Ginger. After that, it wouldn't leave me alone, so I bring the finale to you now, with another huge thanks to Drummerchick7, who beta-read it for me.
Bright Blessings,
~Raven
Earth – The Ruins of London
Low, mournful notes filled the air, bounding back from the piles of rubble, the crushed tanks and Makos…the swords beaten into ploughshares. The middle finger of Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams' right hand quivered as it rested at the end of her eyebrow in a flawless, regulation salute. As the last note of "Taps" faded into the distance, Ashley dropped her hand, curling it into a fist and aligning her thumb against the seam of her pants.
The bugler lowered his instrument and Admiral Hackett's voice echoed across the clearing in the destroyed city that had been made for this occasion. His voice emanated from the myriad speakers, calling for a moment of silence. Ashley lowered her head, her eyes moving to the bugler, fixing on the bright silver sheen of the instrument.
It should have been a violin, Ashley thought, trying to reconcile the surreality of this moment. There was a presence missing beside her, the cold surety of honed steel, ready for battle; an echo of a precious broken thing. There was a music gone from the galaxy now, the wail of a violin forever silenced.
Ashley had grown up in the colonies, but had trained on Earth; had been to symphonies and orchestras, heard the finest musicians that her planet and people had to offer. No one could wring pure pathos from their instruments the way Raegan Shepard had. Through the years of knowing her, serving under her, living through her first death and now her last, Ashley had become convinced that the battered, ancient violin was the heart Raegan had thrown away, the soul she had sold to her personal demons.
How many nights had the crew of the Normandy ceased their work to listen, in the silence of the ship, to the eerie, sorrowful notes floating through the hallways like the ghosts of the fallen. In a way, Ashley realized, it had been Shepard's way of calming the crew, bringing peace after a mission that Raegan simply could not impart in person.
The moment of silence ended and Ashley lifted her eyes upward. She watched the flags waving in the breeze, which still smelled of smoke and destruction. The bright colors of every flag of every planet's race and military seemed too jaunty and out of place against the overcast sky. Ashley smirked. All races were represented…all but the flag Shepard herself believed in.
Raise the black flag! Raegan's words to all of them before the final push began in the battle for Earth. No quarter to the enemy! Today, we are baptized in blood, consecrated in catastrophe! Pray to the gods of hell, because today, heaven disowns us!
Even the memories of the words sent shivers down Ashley's spine. She wished for a quiet moment alone, to mourn, to grieve. But this was not a day of mourning. The brass had made certain to clarify that.
Brave deaths are honored with displays of victory, some stupid admiral had claimed. This isn't a funeral, it's a celebration and a memory of a great sacrifice and gift.
Ashley looked out to the crowd. Three years ago, the members of that crowd had been aliens. Ashley had distrusted them, brushed them aside, and given them the coldest of shoulders. But now, everything had changed. They were her brothers and sisters in arms. They were a united front. Two factors would forever bind them.
All of them have lost loved ones to the Reapers, Ashley recalled. And all of them owe Raegan Shepard their lives…and all life that continues.
Ashley met Liara's eyes and the asari looked away. She noticed Garrus' hunched shoulders, Wrex and Grunt's proud stance, Tali's lowered helmet…and she sighed. All of them, and the galaxy, would mourn Raegan Shepard, the warrior, the savior of the galaxy. Ashley Williams would grieve for Raegan Shepard: the woman, musician, and sociopath.
She had made a promise, after all, so long ago. A promise to save some of her tears for the woman who had never been wept for. The woman whose loss had never been grieved, for none knew of her life until it was too late.
And there is only so much a violin can say, Ashley thought as Councilor Tevos took the stage and began to speak of heroism, repairs, and of finding ways to mend the fractures in the planet, in the body, and in the heart. Ashley paid the words no mind. She had heard them all before; over the vid-screens while she was laid up in Huerta Memorial after the disastrous mission on Mars. She had heard them while she was Udina's pet Spectre, until Cerberus attacked the Citadel and Ashley herself had chosen to believe Raegan over humanity's highest advocate and authority figure.
Ashley's lips trembled as she looked up to the clouded sky, remembering how bright the light had been that day when she had held a gun on her former commander, once-lover…her Skipper. When Raegan had asked the question that changed everything.
"Don't take one step closer, Shepard." Ashley warns, looking through her rifle's iron sights at the iciest, most fathomless green eyes in the galaxy.
"Ash," that rich voice, sweet, mellow, soft enough to read poetry to the injured in the Citadel's false night. "Udina's with Cerberus. This is a rescue mission for him, and a takedown for the others. I don't want them dead."
"You were with Cerberus too!" Ashley yells, not wanting to believe that the man she has shadowed for weeks has been working with the enemy. Surely she would have seen. Surely she would have known!
"Once upon a fucking time." Raegan spits. "What am I, Ashley?" the commander asks the woman who has known her longest and best. "At the brass-tacks end of the day, chief, what the fuck am I?"
"Spectre Williams!" Udina shouts from relative cover. "Shoot her!"
Ashley's trigger finger tightens.
"What am I?" Raegan turns the question into a taunt. "What am I?"
"You're a goddamn killer!" Ashley shouts, projecting all of her bewilderment and bitterness into her tone.
"Right." Raegan does not flinch. "So, if you're right, and I'm with Cerberus, and I want them all dead, why aren't they?"
Raegan's smile is manic as she dares Ashley to convince herself that being shot would keep Shepard from achieving her goal. It is no secret that Shepard can outrun, out-fight, and out shoot any marine, even with a bullet wound.
Because you can't beat crazy, Ashley thinks.
Ashley's trigger finger wavers and Raegan hammers her point in.
"And if I'm right in thinking that it's a rescue for Udina, and I'm working with Cerberus, why are you still fucking breathing, Williams!?"
As the last syllable falls from Shepard's lips, Ashley turns and fires on an unsuspecting Udina. Florets of crimson flower on the man's impeccable clothing and he falls to the ground with a rasping gargle that still manages to sound both condescending and accusatory. The former gunnery chief is shaking, and her dark eyes hold a wealth of emotion as she turns to look at Raegan Shepard.
"That's fucking sick." she whispers, and those sinful green eyes ignite with what could only be considered mania.
"It worked, didn't it?" Raegan asks. "Look, the other two are still alive. I wouldn't lie to you."
No. Ashley's mind taunts her. She has never lied to me. And the fact that I know she would kill me without second thought if her mission demanded it makes me ill. Still, Ashley looks back at the remaining, blessedly alive councilors who were standing near Udina's body, better a terrible truth than the sweetest of lies.
She looks at Shepard once more. Any other person would apologize. Any other person would accuse necessity for those statements and ask forgiveness. Not Raegan. Because she meant every word.
Ashley returned to the present as a new voice boomed out over the speakers. The low, growly tones of the turian councilor. The one living human Spectre tugged at the high collar of her dress uniform, uncomfortable with the moisture in the air and the sweat slipping down her back. She would have to speak soon. She had been asked to. For Shepard. In Shepard's place.
Somehow, Ashley found it easier to go back to her memories than to dwell in the present moment. Those memories held truth. She was not sure if any of the words being spoken truly did.
Everyone had said that the Reapers were unstoppable. Javik had tormented the ship with the tales of the Prothean destruction. He had spoken of having greater intelligence, better technology, more powerful weapons and still…his people had failed and his race had been wiped out.
Ashley sought the Prothean out in the crowd. Stamped on his face was the same shock that had been there since the Crucible fired. Ashley knew that the last Prothean grieved. She knew his pride was shattered. And yet he had not been wrong. He had called Shepard evil, sadistic, a blight on the galaxy and he. Had. Not. Been. Wrong.
Darkness cannot defeat darkness, Javik had once claimed after he and Shepard had an argument that ended in a physical altercation. Ashley had pulled Raegan off of the Prothean, holding the wrathful woman back as Javik spat his thesis. Most would have reacted in anger. Not Raegan. She had gone still in Ashley's grasp, and began laughing. Ashley had pulled away and stared at her once-again commanding officer.
Sometimes, Ashley let her mind wander, you could see past the darkness that defined Raegan and realize how beautiful she was. Eyes the color of spring itself, porcelain skin that begged for a kind touch, thick, wavy red hair that she kept longer than regulation permitted just to piss off the brass. Ashley smiled as she remembered the last time she had seen that waterfall of hair, waving after Shepard like a banner of blood.
She would never see it again, and the knowledge struck Ashley like a punch to the gut. She had loved, admired, and hated Raegan. Sometimes all at once; most often a singular pervading emotion. Ashley's eyes returned to the ceremony, watching the honor guard's solemn march as they strode center stage and unfurled the flag of the Systems Alliance.
Ashley tried to watch, to ground herself in what she had always loved. Military tradition, precision, perfection. It had defined her life. She had been a textbook soldier. Then everything on Eden Prime had gone to hell and she had run into the woman who had changed her life forever. The woman who had changed the galaxy forever. The woman for whom one death was not enough.
The honor guard continued the flag fold. Ashley frowned. That flag should go to the next-of-kin. But Raegan Shepard had no next-of-kin, no lover…no one to forever hold the reminder of her valor and sacrifice. Once again, Ashley felt tears prick her eyes. No. Now was not the time. Not yet.
She watched as the soldier holding the flag dressed every angle of the fold and presented it to the other. Slow, the ensign saluted it and took it in two hands, cradling it to his chest and turning with a crisp left face. Ashley's eyes widened as he approached her and extended the flag.
The muscle in the young ensign's jaw leapt and through a taut throat, the words that had been memorized and repeated over and over spilled from his lips. "On behalf of the Council, the Systems Alliance, and a grateful galaxy, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's honorable and faithful service."
Ashley fought to keep her hands from shaking as she took the tri-fold flag in her hands, holding it up so that the young ensign could render one last salute and walk away. The lieutenant commander cradled the flag to her chest while every part of her body trembled. She remembered some months ago, waking briefly, in a haze of pain, to hear a mellow, sweet, terrible voice reading the words from one of her favorite poets.
"And there will never be any more perfection than there is now, nor any more heaven or hell than there is now."
"What the fuck, Shepard?" Ashley whispered to the sky, too low for anyone to hear. "What the ever-loving fuck?"
This…Ashley held the flag in her hands and wanted to scream, …this is Raegan. Unexpected and fucking brutal. I should have expected this. God…why do I miss you?
In her heart, Ashley knew the answer. No one else would. The Alliance would miss Shepard on the battlefield. But that was all. The woman got results, earned victories, but ever since Torfan, she had made no friends. Except one. A reluctantly understanding, unwillingly comprehending gunnery chief turned Spectre.
Ashley enters the elevator and presses the furthest button up, to the commander's quarters. She smiles, realizing that most people consider that gesture akin to having a death wish, especially before a battle. A battle like the one they are about to face. To strike Cerberus in the very heart of it, destroy The Illusive Man and at last defeat his machinations.
The elevator door opens and Ashley exists, pausing before knocking on the door. From behind it, she hears the strains of "Pavane for a Dead Princess". Her lips tremble. So many of her unpleasant moments with Shepard have been inundated with beautiful, ancient music and poetry. She swallows and knocks at the door.
"Come in, chief." Raegan calls, and the music continues in an endless strain, from here to the ends of the galaxy.
The door opens and Ashley enters, watching Raegan pace back and forth, drawing the bow across the strings, speaking what her heart will never say. But Ashley knows. She has known from the beginning. Eden Prime began it. Horizon continued it. This music spells the end.
"How do you always know?" Ashley asks, knowing the words will be taken as too confrontational, and that is not something she wished to do…but it cannot be helped.
She and Raegan seem to exist to be at each other's throats. Always they have fought tooth and nail across and over every little thing. They tear each other down to shards and yet still return…each trying to understand the reasons they always come back.
"No one else would dare." Raegan answers, closing her eyes and surrendering to her bow.
The high notes wail and the low notes weep and as Ashley listens she understands. She understands why they always come back to these moments that devolve into heated words and, once, into rough caresses. Ashley looks at Shepard's closed eyes and sees the tears that Raegan will never shed clinging to her lashes. Raegan has always said that they are the same, and Ashley has always fought the idea with everything in her. But she sees now…it was never a complete lie.
She and Raegan are the other's inverse mirror image. Raegan sees in Ashley what she might have been, had life been kind. And Ashley knows…had life been cruel, she could be crafted in Shepard's own, terrible image. It explains everything, and the lieutenant commander feels her heart beat faster. Music…poetry…each one's solace in difficult times. Song and lyrics. Each possessing what the other lacks. Both whole in their own right, but able to be blended. Fitting together in spite of separate origins and artists and lives.
Something shatters…and Ashley realizes it is the walls she had built. The walls that had been first hit when she had fully awakened in Huerta and seen a ratty copy of a book she had once given Raegan. To prove that fucked up minds could produce beauty. Never before has she realized that her mind could be as broken, as tattered, as war-torn and…fucked up.
"Can I ask a question, Shepard?" Ashley's tone gentles, and the ever-perceptive commander takes notice. But, in rare form, Raegan says nothing, merely nods.
"Why 'Pavane'?" Ashley wonders, and Raegan smiles.
But it is not the razor smile that promises some statement tinged with mystery, some cutting truth of Ashley that makes her despise herself and loathe Shepard further.
"It seemed fitting." Raegan murmurs. "Did you ever want to be a princess, Ashley? Parade around in fancy dresses, drink tea with your goddamn pinky sticking out, wear a crown that glitters like the stars?"
"Maybe." Ashley hazards. "When I was three."
"Yeah." Shepard murmurs. "I can't remember if I ever wanted to be or not. But sometimes I think…what might have happened if I hadn't watched my father's brain paint the wall, heard my mother violated, and put a gun to her head out of some sense of mercy? So it seems fitting, right now, to play for that girl. Because someone might have cared about what happened to her."
Ashley feels her throat clench as Raegan speaks of the horror of her past without wincing, without her voice cracking, without any emotion whatsoever. How detached can one person remain from the horrors that marred them, that turned them into the woman who became the Butcher of Torfan, a ruthless killer, and a merciless soldier?
She is so very broken, Ashley thinks, but still, she remembers, though she does not cry for it.
"Why now?" Ashley whispers.
Raegan sets the violin down and sits across from Ashley, burning into the dark eyes with her own vicious green. "Because I'm going to die, Ashley Williams." she smiles again, but this is the manic grin that Ashley knows so well—the soft smile of before is dead. "I'm going to wipe my damn self off the face of the galaxy."
Ashley snorts. It is not in keeping with the taut mood of the evening, or with the heart-scalding confessions dropped from Shepard's lips like a simple greeting. But it is the emotion she feels now. Raegan Shepard doesn't die. She kicks death's ass and comes back to brag about it and terrify vorcha with a glance.
"You're not going to die." she shakes her head. "This is just another fight."
"No." Raegan speaks, low with insistence, with a fervor that borders on fanaticism. "This is it, Ash. I'm serious. I tried to put a bullet in my head when I was ten years old. I missed. And ever since then, I've been killing everything that moves because I fucking can and because it fucking moves. But if you think about it, I'm going up against the force that has brought the galaxy low and eradicated all highly advanced life every fifty-thousand years for who knows how goddamn long." the sheen in Raegan's eyes terrifies Ashley, but she says nothing. "I'm going to meet a god in battle," Raegan whispers, "and I'm going to die killing it."
"You are seriously fucked up in the head, Skipper." it is not the first time Ashley has said these words. It is the first time she has said them with affection.
"Yes." Shepard does not flinch. "I am."
She rises from her seat, walks to the window in her cabin, and looks out at the gleaming stars as they soar through space. Ashley admires the warrior without morals, the knight without honor, the killer, the sadist, the butcher. She sees all of Raegan Shepard in that moment and realizes that, if she stood in her commander's shoes, she, too, would be begging for death.
"You make me want to die, Ash." Raegan whispers.
Before, Ashley would have retorted in anger, the fight would have begun, and they would have ripped each other to shreds for the thousandth time. Now, however, she understands. Shepard wants this. She wants the only death she can give herself…the death at the hands of something more powerful, fierce, and evil than she is. Because Raegan failed at taking her own life. Even she was not strong enough to destroy herself.
And she no longer wants to exist in a world that, once saved, will have no place for what Raegan knows herself to be. A monster. The instant the world has no more need of her as a soldier, they will disown the frightening truth of her existence never before noticed because her darkness is the vanguard of the galaxy.
Before, Ashley would have struggled to find the words. Now, they come to her with ease.
"You make me want to live, Raegan." she says, rising and walking to the commander, the woman she has fought against in her heart for the last three years.
The woman she refused to love. But there is no need to refuse now. There is no need to fear and hate and despise. Yes, Raegan Shepard is a monster. Yes, she has taken more lives and spilled more blood than entire armies. She has left innocents to die. She has tortured, maimed, destroyed.
Ashley realizes, for the first time, she need not love the woman a cruel life forged into the entity that is Commander Raegan Shepard. But she has always adored the hands that play music and the voice that sounds like poetry, even when screaming a battle cry. She has always admired the eloquence of the Butcher.
Raegan faces her and Ashley looks into the eyes of the woman Raegan could have been. A textbook soldier, with a family at home, and a goal other than death to fight for. A woman who could believe in something greater than herself. A woman who could pray, and grieve with tears and words instead of the music whose purpose she did not acknowledge. A woman Ashley Williams could give her heart to.
"All is as it should be then." Raegan says.
"No, it isn't." Ashley whispers, drawing closer to her commander, her friend, enemy, and all in between. "Let me kiss you goodnight."
"No." Raegan shakes her head and steps back. "This isn't Ilos, Ash. And not Horizon. I hurt you. I took from you. And I…"
"Loved every minute of it." Ashley smiles and it is forgiveness, though Raegan will never understand that.
Raegan's razor smile emerges in answer. "Yes I did." she admits with a blissful sigh of memory relived. "Every. Goddamn. Minute."
"So let me kiss you goodnight." Ashley taunts, closing the distance Raegan created and repeating words she spoke three years ago. "You're still fucked up in the head, Skipper. But here's proof that some fucked up people can do great things.
Before Raegan can react, Ashley melds their bodies together and presses her lips against Shepard's. They have kissed before, power and teeth and a battle for control. This is not that. It is a gift, a kiss farewell to the love that has always existed and never lived. It is the tender touch that Raegan never earned, and the renegade hardens it…once Ashley felt it as a knife against her own lips, but now it is the scathing heat of a forge in hell and she allows herself to melt, to mold her lips to Raegan's own, reach out with her tongue and caress the bladed edge that had tormented, destroyed, and flayed her alive.
Ashley realizes as their tongues dance that, once she allows it, it brings no pain. There is no hurt here, no sorrow, no anguish. The bright light that is Ashley's faith and belief touches the heart of darkness and it does not shatter, but accepts the embrace. She wraps Raegan in the first tender touch the commander has ever known. Ashley's fingertips grasp the hem of her own shirt and she breaks the kiss to peel it off. It falls to the floor and the rest of Ashley's clothing follows.
She stands naked before Raegan, allowing a monster to see her vulnerable and naked. Raegan's eyes flash with the predatory hunger they have always held. The predator that glories in the spilling of blood, the taking of life, the destruction of what stands. Raegan's hands reach out and Ashley braces for a murderer's touch, a gasp leaving her lips as she finds it gentle. Raegan's lips press against her neck and her teeth graze Ashley's veins, sending shockwaves through her body that, for the first time, do not terrify her.
They stand at the end of all things. Both might die in mere hours; be devoured by the greatest enemy the galaxy has to offer. In light of this, Ashley can feel no fear. She is allowing this, unlike Horizon. Unlike Horizon…she desires it with a free and guiltless heart.
"Let me touch you, Raegan." she says, and it is not a plea, but a command.
She reaches up for the zipper of Shepard's hoodie and the commander leers at her. "What are you trying to do, chief?" she growls. "Make me want to live? Give me something to fight for? If that's the case," she grasps Ashley's wrists in a bruising grip, "get the fuck out. Now."
Ashley laughs from deep in her gut, deep in her primal, fearless self. "No, Raegan." her words are a hiss. "I'm going to celebrate your impending doom, and fuck you senseless."
Raegan laughs, low, eerie, and chilling. She removes her hands from Ashley's wrists and the lieutenant commander wrenches the zipper down and tears the hoodie off of Shepard's shoulders, casting it to the floor. She grasps the thin black t-shirt emblazoned with the N7 logo and peels it off of Raegan's body, baring the woman's high, small breasts.
Ashley's breath shudders out as she roves over the expanse of porcelain skin. The last time she had seen this body bared, she had hated it. She had loathed Ceberus' Raegan resurrected, the woman without the scars that had defined her. There are new scars now, but that does not alter Ashley's perception. She folds Raegan into her arms and the woman stiffens at the affectionate contact. The commander cannot understand, but Ashley does not persist in intimacy, and instead speaks the language Raegan knows.
She rakes the nails of both hands down Raegan's back, harsh and without mercy and Shepard groans, pitching forward into Ashley's embrace. Ashley places her lips against Shepard's neck, but does not kiss. She bites, deep, rough, tearing a ragged growl from her commander's throat as she savages muscle, vein, and tendon with a savagery most would consider cruel. Raegan trembles in her arms and Ashley takes advantage of the momentary weakness and pushes Shepard away from her. The commander stumbles and the back of her knees strike the edge of the bed. She falls onto it and Ashley follows, standing over the first human Spectre and pinning the taller woman in place with her hips.
Like a snake, she strikes, ravaging Shepard's mouth with her own, delighting in the low hiss from Shepard's throat when Ashley takes Shepard's lower lip between her teeth and bites, punctuating it with a strong hand squeezing Shepard's sex through the commander's pants with a pressure most would consider painful. Raegan, however, does not grasp the concept of avoiding pain. She craves it and causes it, a vicious cycle that has led to this very moment.
Shepard's hips surge into the abrasive contact and her arms lock around Ashley's waist, pulling the woman closer as though their bodies can truly merge into another and equivalently exchange salvation and savagery. Ashley drops her mouth to Shepard's breasts, kissing, licking, biting, working Raegan into a frenzy she cannot control and, Ashley hopes, does not desire to.
Her mouth clamped around a nipple, Ashley forces her knee between Shepard's thighs and forces the woman further onto the bed with nothing that resembles gentleness. Shepard cries out and her hips pulse against the pressure exerted by Ashley's knee, an action the lieutenant commander arrests by raking her nails down, between Shepard's breasts, leaving four brilliant, red, raised lines on the commander's ivory complexion. Raegan is panting now, every burst of air leaving her lips a whispered profanity.
Ashley glories in the abandon, of giving into a darker side that has always existed in her but never been freed. Its freedom would never have led to good in any other room, with any other lover, but now it is a twisted gift for a tangled mind too locked in horror to accept a gentle touch. She lifts her mouth from its feast and rocks back onto her knees, unbuttoning Raegan's pants, throwing down the zipper, grasping both clothing and underwear and pulling it off, keeping her fingernails scraping Shepard's outer thighs as she undresses her.
Raegan props herself up on her elbows and stares, not at the glory of Ashley's caramel skin, alluring breasts, elegant bone structure, but into dark eyes that glitter. Ashley smiles, a mimicry of Shepard's own razor-bladed expression, and, holding her Skipper's gaze, thrusts three fingers inside.
Raegan cries out and Ashley rocks forward, forcing Shepard down with a powerful hand on the weakest point of the commander's collarbone as she continues her ministrations with short, rapid thrusts. Shepard raises her knees and pushes her body upward, taking Ashley deeper into her, pulling her in physically as she has always done with her eyes, words, and music. Ashley lowers her mouth, tasting Raegan, not surprised that her essence is gunpowder and white pepper. She continues the movement of her fingers, fast and harsh, and lashes her tongue across Raegan's clit with arrhythmic strokes that shred from Raegan in the form of almost pained shouts.
Ashley reaches up with her free hand, resting it on Shepard's stomach, feeling the tight muscles of her abdomen clench and flutter. Raegan begins to shake with every slice of Ashley's tongue, every thrust of her fingers, but it is not enough.
"Bite." Raegan gasps the order and Ashley obeys.
She envelops Raegan's clit with her mouth, sucking it in deep, pressing her teeth to its base and pushing it out, slow, between the vice she has created. Raegan screams out her climax and a rush of wet heat and fire pours into the palm of Ashley's hand. She presses her tongue against the bundle of nerves still constrained against her teeth, applying intermittent pressure until Raegan curses her, god, and all else that exists before collapsing against the bed.
Ashley props herself up, keeping her hand locked inside Raegan's body, feeling every weakening flutter of muscles as the commander descends from climax. Shepard's eyelids flutter closed and her ragged breathing deepens as exhaustion takes her into her final slumber. Somehow, Ashley feels that all is right with this.
She knows that in the French language, the word for climax translates to "the little death." Raegan has, in essence, died in her arms. She did not die alone. She did not die unloved or unwanted. Ashley smiles for sorrow and for hope as she removes her hand and tucks Raegan beneath the covers. The commander's eyelids flutter, the shivering of the lashes making her appear frail, vulnerable, and young.
Ashley dresses herself and prepares to return to her quarters for a rest that might very well be her last. Before she leaves, she leans down, placing a whispery kiss to Raegan's temple.
"Sweet dreams, princess."
Ashley forcibly removed herself from the memory of her and Raegan's last night and handed the flag to communications Specialist Samantha Traynor. The young woman had attached herself to Ashley when the Normandy had crash-landed on an unknown planet after outrunning the energy from the Crucible's firing. She had hovered at her side while Ashley recovered from her injuries, turning herself into an officer's attaché of sorts.
Ashley was grateful for the silent support Samantha gave her now, the eyes that did not well with tears, the hands that did not tremble as they took Raegan's memorial flag. Their last fears were gone. Terror had struck them all when, while attempting to repair the Normandy, a Reaper had descended on the planet. Pandemonium had ensued; the ship was not space-worthy, the weapons systems offline, and all of them knew that they were going to die.
Ashley relived the shock and surprise that had forced them into silence when the Reaper began sealing the breaches in the Normandy's hull in mere moments, repairing the ship that had fought against them since they had arrived in the galaxy once more. Ashley had sensed a change in the massive machine of destruction—the aura of pain and suffering, the dominant thrum of indoctrination, was gone—and ordered the crew back into the ship. When the door had been sealed, the Normandy had been lifted in the Reaper's grasp and taken back to Earth.
Admiral Hackett had debriefed her, informing the Normandy's new commanding officer that the stories were the same the galaxy over. The Reaper's weapons were no longer functional, and they had begun repairing the planets they had razed, and repairing and rebuilding the Mass Relays that the Crucible had destroyed. Ashley had said nothing, but in her heart…she knew what had happened, what had to have happened. There was simply no other explanation. She had told no one, until now.
The Master of Ceremonies announced her and Ashley strode to the podium, swallowing the lump in her throat. She looked down at the notes she had carefully prepared, highlighting everyone's accomplishments because this was not a memorial service. Well, damn that to hell. She tucked the ragged, much re-read pages away and faced the microphone and the crowd.
"We are here for one reason." Ashley spoke, and the entire crowd, which had tittered with whispered conversations while the others spoke, went silent. "We are here to honor a life. A life and a deed that none of us can fathom the enormity of. I knew," I loved, "Raegan Shepard. I served under her command."
Ashley took a deep breath before continuing, forgiving herself for the words she was about to speak because she knew Raegan would have approved of the brutality of her honesty.
"Raegan earned the name 'The Butcher of Torfan' for a reason." Ashley stated, watching several admirals blanch. "She was not gentle. She was not kind. She truly did not comprehend mercy. She led with an iron fist, killed without remorse, and damned diplomacy every chance she got. Her life was colored in shades of brutality, savagery, and fury. She was not someone that society could perceive as a good person. But she is the reason that we stand here," Ashley borrowed the lines from a favorite poem, "broken, but unbowed. She is the reason that the Reaper's cycle of destruction is at its final end."
Ashley closed her eyes for a moment as her life assailed her; recovered and went on. "Raegan Shepard was all that we despise. All that we abhor. All that we do not condone. But, in the end, she was the best of us, the bravest of us, and the kindest of us. She told me something once, and that was that real evil is the most honest thing in this galaxy. Real evil doesn't manipulate, scheme, or cower. That's what gave the Reapers their power. They were what they were. Now, they are what they are…tools in the hand of the woman who defeated them. The woman who took the horror that her life foisted on her and saved the lives of others."
Sweat trickled down Ashley's face and her throat went dry. She paused, lost in her last memory…the last time she had seen Raegan alive. The moment that, Ashley now and would always believe, had led her to make the choice she had. To take control of the galaxy's greatest darkness.
Ashley leans on Raegan's support as her commander all but drags her towards the Normandy's ramp. The lieutenant commander's vision is hazed with blood, her left leg will not hold her weight, and her lungs feel like they have been ripped out with fingernail clippers. She gasps for breath, leaning against Raegan, looking at the bright pathway that leads to the closed Citadel.
She stumbles as they reach the ramp, and Shepard passes her into Garrus' strength. Ashley struggles to lift her head, to look into Raegan's wicked green eyes one last time. Shepard's face is lined with exhaustion, her shoulders slack with fatigue, but her eyes glitter with the promise she has made herself. She will not be coming back, and Ashley knows this. It is her time.
"Take care of her, Garrus." Shepard orders and turns her back.
"Raegan." Ashley gasps. "Wait."
The commander turns and Ashley breaks away from Garrus, hobbling towards the woman who has been through, defeated, and personified hell. She lifts a trembling hand and places it against Raegan's cheek. One last tender touch for the woman who might have been.
"What do you fucking want, chief?" Shepard growls, sparkspit and steel, piss and vinegar, a renegade solid gone.
"Raegan, I…" Ashley stammers, but clears her throat and steadies her heart. Shepard needs to know. She must, or everything will have been for nothing. Shepard's entire, disastrous life, will have been for nothing.
"I love you, Skipper." Ashley whispers, letting the tears in her eyes slip down her cheeks, so that Shepard knows they are for her. That she will be missed. That she will be mourned.
That she means something.
Shock fills Raegan's wide eyes and the ice in them fades for a moment before the razor smile emerges, bladed, harsh, and hellish.
"Thanks for lying, chief." Raegan says. "Send me a postcard from heaven, will you? I'll be in the other place."
Raegan takes a step back and Ashley reaches out, grabbing Shepard around the back of her neck and pulling her forward, slamming their lips together for a final, faithless, forced kiss. It is short, it is fearless, and it is done.
Shepard says nothing, simply turns and runs towards the beacon, her long red hair waving behind her like a banner of blood.
Ashley emerged from the memory, knowing the final words she needed to say.
"True darkness knows itself." she spoke, her words bounding back to her from the speakers. "Raegan knew who she was, what she was, and was honest in all of it. She understood death with an intimacy I hope none of us ever achieve. She understood darkness with that same intimacy. And in the honesty of her purpose, and the death she knew would come, she took the darkness of the galaxy down into the abyss with her. She acted in death as she did in life, because Raegan Shepard understood sacrifice. She knew it was better for one blood-soaked, demon driven soldier to perish than for the cycle of extinction to persist. We do not owe our salvation to a hero. Ladies and gentlemen…we owe our very lives, our continued dreams, and every blessing we count from this day forward, to the villain of the story. That…that is the truth. As she would want it told. Rest well, commander," Ashley withdrew from the microphone and the public eye, "and thank you."
The Master of Ceremonies closed the event, the crowd began to disperse, and Ashley Williams walked back to the temporary living quarters she had been assigned. The overcast sky poured open and rain pelted the ground, driving away the stench of an old battlefield. Ashley shed tears once again for all that the galaxy had lost, and all that it had never had. Once again, she kept her promise…weeping for the woman that no one would miss.
TEN YEARS LATER
Morning dawned quiescent. Ashley Williams opened her eyes and smiled at the slumbering form of the woman beside her. A slender hand rested on the pillow and a diamond glittered on the third finger. Ashley smiled as she brushed the fingers lightly with her lips. Yvonne had been a godsend in her life, repairing the soldier's damaged heart, encouraging her, saving her from the chaos that had been the aftermath of the Reaper War, the aftermath of a failed relationship with Samantha Traynor.
Yvonne had a gentle soul, a kind heart, and was a writer of poetry with whom Ash had shared an immediate, inexorable connection. Ashley shook her head. The galaxy had sent her the perfect woman. In fact, all of the Normandy crew had seemed to be charmed after the war had ended, as though God had seen fit to bless them for their losses, their trials, and all that they had endured in the name of the preservation of life.
Ashley and Yvonne had been married seven years ago and the most blissful, difficult, and lovely years of Ashley's life had followed. They had a child now, a five year old hoyden who was the bane of Ashley's existence and the light of her life. But her wife and child were not first in her thoughts this day, and Ashley felt no remorse for that fact.
This day was set apart. It was the anniversary of the firing of the Crucible and the end of the Reaper War. There was something Ashley needed to do, and it must be done alone. She rose from the bed and dressed, gathering an item of utmost importance, items that had been the subject of several…tense…discussions between her and her wife. Those arguments were now done. The time had come…the time to let go.
Ashley stopped by her daughter's room and cracked the door, smiling at her little angel with her halo of dark chestnut curls. Her eyes were closed, but when they were open, they were Yvonne's beautiful shade of emerald green. Unable to resist, Ashley slipped inside her daughter's room and ran her fingers through the child's hair.
"Sweet dreams, little princess." she whispered. "I'll be back before you wake up. I love you, Raegan."
She rose from the child's bedside and exited the room as tears pricked her eyes. It had not been an easy decision, naming her daughter after her dead commander. She had fought with herself and Yvonne over the desire, wondering where it came from and why it had presented itself. It had been a dark night when she at last understood, took her wife aside, and relayed the entirety of her and Shepard's story.
"Somewhere," Ashley had said, "there is a little girl who died and became the savior of the galaxy. I do not want to name my daughter after the dark, tormented woman I knew," loved, "and served under. I want to name her after that little girl who never got to see a beautiful life."
Yvonne had asked for time before at last consenting, and their child had been born and christened with a name that had once been the most feared in the galaxy.
Ashley reached the door of her home and a uniformed officer opened it for her. "The shuttle is waiting for you, Councilor Williams."
The title still did not feel right, but Ashley had taken the position three years ago, after Steven Hackett, who had been granted it after Udina's death and the end of the war, had abdicated and retired at last. The position was grueling, unforgiving, and cake compared to hunting the Reapers across the galaxy. Ashley entered the shuttle and remained lost in thought as it left the Citadel, which had been repaired, though not moved from its position above Earth.
She traveled to the surface and disembarked in the clearing where she had spoken ten years ago. A verdant garden had been crafted and memorials to every race stood there. But at its center was a statue that Liara had ordered commissioned and carved from black marble. It was Raegan Shepard. Her hair whipped in the wind and she gazed toward the sky, a look of determination etched on her stone features.
Ashley chuckled, as she always did when she looked at this monument, because only the Normandy crew fully understood, and Ashley even better than they. Shepard's eyes were fierce, her jaw set in a firm line, but in her hands she did not hold a weapon. Nor did she hold them in a position of power and command. Instead, the artist had carved her arms at her sides, one holding a bow, the other a violin.
That, Ashley removed the item she carried from her breast pocket, is the woman who saved the galaxy.
She sat down and leaned against the base of the monument, opening a dog-eared and well-read anthology of poetry. She lifted her eyes to the sky and closed them, remembering the pain of a beating and a skull fracture, of hearing a stanza from Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself" in a voice that had always moved her.
She opened the book of poetry that had changed hands between her and Shepard many times in the three years they had known each other, and read from the same poem.
"What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children? They are alive and well somewhere, the smallest sprout shows there is really no death, and if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, and ceased the moment life appeared. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, and to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier."
Ashley rose to her feet and combed her hair back with her hand, thinking of the many threads of grey that now lay in her tresses. She reached out and touched the marble violin, tracing its curves, and remembering the remarkable, reprehensible woman who had played it.
She set the book of poetry on the base of the statue near bouquets of flowers and burning candles left by those who remembered and were still thankful. It would be this book's final resting place, in the hands of its rightful owner. Ashley looked up and smiled into the statue's eyes.
"It's been ten years, Skipper." she spoke to the dead, "I hope by now you realize…I wasn't lying."