Chapter 1: Picking Up the Pieces
"No."
Her response was strong. Resolute. As inflexible as the cold steel nameplate she held in her three-fingered hands.
Garrus Vakarian sighed as he placed a hand on Tali's shoulder. The poor girl had been inconsolable over the past few days, since Shepard had ordered them to evacuate and had led the final push to the Citadel beam. The crazy bastard had pulled it off, and had given his life in the process. For better or worse, the crew had made it out of harm's way. They were blind, deaf, and stranded on some spirits-forsaken jungle in the middle of...well, somewhere, but they were alive and save for some burns, scrapes, and a few broken bones they were relatively safe.
Well, almost all of them.
EDI's blue box had imploded just before the Normandy had made its crash landing, and her body had lifelessly fallen from her co-pilot's seat upon impact. Same for the handful of geth platforms that happened to be on board. Two of the human crewmen had died upon impact, and a third had taken her own life upon seeing the damage to the frigate.
It had been Kaiden's idea to gather at the memorial wall to pay tribute to their fallen allies. Some of the maintenance techs had crafted the nameplates and had added them to the wall. However, they had agreed that Tali'Zorah should be the one to honor the dashing young commander who had stolen her heart. Kaiden and Garrus had hoped this would help her move forward; it might not ease her grief, but maybe it would allow her to function. They would undoubtedly need her in the days to come.
Now, it seemed that she was unable or unwilling to let go of James Shepard, or even his memorial name plate.
"He's gone, Tali," the battle-scarred turian whispered. His hand remained on her shoulder, gently squeezing it in a show of affection. "We have to let him go."
"No." Her voice was little more than a whisper, but a whisper with enough force and conviction to show that she had no intention of changing her mind.
Garrus sighed in resignation as he shot a glance at the asari standing at Tali's back. The galaxy's infamous Shadow Broker had grown close to the quarian. Garrus's look said it all. "Cover me?" he pled in silence.
"Tali," Liara said, her voice filled with both grief and compassion. "You have to do this. For all of us. For James. For yourself, most of all."
"I can't," Tali said. She chewed on her words for a moment, and decided that wasn't good enough. "I won't. Not yet. Not until I know for sure."
Liara hung her head and sighed. "Tali, he..."
"Don't say it," Tali interrupted. "I'll hang it up and wish him peace when we get back and find...find what happened. But not before. Not yet."
Liara felt her heart break for her dear friend; however, she couldn't help but feel irritated by Tali's petulance. Tali seemed to pick up on this, and she turned to face the asari.
"I love you Liara," she said. "And you, Garrus. And all of you. I am so grateful to have you here with me." She turned back to face the cold, steel wall and clutched the Commander's nameplate to her breast. "But I can't let go of this, not yet. I have nothing else to hold on to."
Artonis Kapec wanted to finish what the Reapers had started and blow the damned station into oblivion. He'd been stuck up in the Citadel (or, to be more specific, what was left of the Citadel) for almost two solid weeks as it made its orbit around the human homeworld. Artonis wished he was back on Earth; there was too much work to be done on the surface for both the Alliance and for his own people, and to be honest he found himself becoming a little partial to the planet. Sure, it was in mostly ruins and he couldn't eat...well, anything native, but he loved the English rains and the lovely (and mostly unspoiled) countryside outside of the city. However, the united races had selected an ad hoc Council, and for continuity's sake they had decided they would hold session in the reclaimed Citadel as soon as soon as possible.
So, in the name of galactic stabilization and similar political bullshit, the Council had sent some of their finest civil engineers to oversee the reconstruction, an plenty of military muscle to do the work.
The turian rubbed his eyes. He had been stuck with the latter group.
More accurately, he was leading what Command called a "R3" platoon-Recovery, Rescue, and Response. Or, as the R3 teams called themselves, the "Corpse Corps." It had been two weeks since the cessation of hostilities (a nice way to say, "Shepard blew the big bad bogeymen out of the goddamned sky") and by the looks of the devastation around him, they wouldn't be finding survivors any time soon. So, the Corpse Corps went to work, salvaging the bodies that were decent enough for burial, and burning those that weren't. It was morbid work. Especially when you found the half-dissolved ones. And, by the spirits, the stench. Artonis was a battle-forged veteran of the Primarch's army; he and Death were old, familiar friends. But this...this was something entirely different.
One could imagine the surprise he felt when one of his squads radioed him from the Citadel Tower garden. They were requesting a medic and a transport. He listened in as he made his way through the winding tunnels and darkened corners of what was once the Presidium. "Son-of-a-bitch must be a hell of a fighter," he thought. Still, he wasn't completely convinced his boys weren't mistaken. Or, for that matter, weren't playing some perverse prank.
"Boss!" One of his boys, a turian named Caeldonis, was hailing him on the radio. "Boss, you are not going to believe this!"
"Lay it on me, Cael," Artonis grumped. "What in the hell is going on up there?"
"It's Shepard!" Cael shouted, his voice so loud it distored the speaker in Artonis's earpiece. "Commander Shepard is alive!""
Artonis broke into a dead run. They had found Shepard, and the bastard was still alive. This was going to make the Council's day. They might call Artonis a hero. Give him a medal. Maybe a promotion up the meritocracy.
If he was lucky, this might even be his ticket out of the Corpse Corps.
Camp Anderson, by all accounts, was a hellish sort of place. Ragtag shelters had been set up for survivors of the Reaper invasion, most of which locayed in shelled-out storefronts and apartment buildings. London was a picture of hell on Earth...and yet, hope was abound.
The Reapers were gone. Some way, some how, humanity had managed to pull one final trick out of its hat and, with the united races of the galaxy, had found victory deep in the maw of defeat. In spite of the setting, things were on the long, slow track back to normal. Or, something similar to normal. Prefabs were being repaired and deployed to the makeshift Alliance command center in the middle of the camp. Power and even fresh water were available to military personnel, and within the week would be available for the entire camp. Ships were being repaired and restocked. The Crucible's engineers had even begun the process of repairing the heavily damaged Charon mass relay.
In the face of disaster, life struggled on. No, not struggled. Persevered.
Nothing better illustrated this than the broken body on board the screaming Alliance medical shuttle. By all rights, James Shepard should be dead. Massive couldn't appropriately describe the trauma he had suffered both from the Crucible's firing and the resulting explosions. Not to mention almost sixteen days had passed without food or drink. However, his Cerberus-supplied implants and cybernetics had picked up his organic slack and had helped him survive.
However, he was in rough shape. Blunt force trauma, internal hemorrhaging, several broken bones...and on top of that he had been put on a respirator.
The commander had a rough road ahead. However, he was a fighter.
Admiral Steven Hackett was waiting in the makeshift militay medical center when the medical corpsmen came rushing in with Shepard on a stretcher. Hackett fell in behind them, moving towards the emergency center.
"How is he?" he asked.
"Bad," one of the medics answered. "He's barely hanging on."
Hackett was aware the situation was dire, but he couldn't help but smile. He's still hanging on, he thought. That's the important part.
"GALACTIC HERO FOUND ALIVE IN CITADEL RUINS"
BY GEORGIA PRALL, ALLIANCE NEWS NETWORK
Camp Anderson, UK - More than two weeks after the miraculous defeat of the Reapers, the man behind the greatest military campaign-and victory-in galactic history has been found alive aboard Citadel Station after previously classified as KIA.
Staff Commander James Robert Shepard, commanding officer of the SSV Normandy was found early yesterday morning by a turian work crew at the base of the Citadel tower. Cmdr. Shepard's status is listed as critical and he is currently being treated by the 889th Alliance Medical Corps-Alliance Command at Camp Anderson. The extent of his injuries are currentl unknown.
Alliance officials have requested that well-wishers do not attempt to enter the Command compound as no visitors will be allowed per Adm. Steven Hackett, Alliance Supreme Commander.
At first, Tali'Zorah vas Normamdy had secluded herself in her lover's cabin, refusing to leave. She had buried herself in his rack, clinging to an old N7 sweatshirt he had been fond of. She would remove her mask, bury her face in the garment, and cry. That was before she had been forced to confront her commander's mortality at the memorial wall. It was at that point she found a spark of hope long hidden. Maybe, keelah, he was still out there. Alive. Waiting for her. As the days passed afterward, she had begun to venture out. The crew had been hard at work patching the hull and repairing the drive core. That spark had ignited, and Tali decided to set her grief aside in favor of hope.
Over the next few days, Tali buried herself in the task of getting the Normandy's comm systems back up. Garrus joined her on most days, and while he was no quarian his tech skills were coming in handy. Despite the concerns (and quite often, vocal protests) of her shipmates, she was in the war room nearly 'round the clock allowing herself only a few hours for sleep each night. And even though it was a couple of sizes too big (and was drawing unwarranted amounts of attention from the humans on board) she had taken to wearing Shepard's old sweatshirt-in reality, a security blanket of sorts-as she worked each day. She didn't care. It was comforting. Familiar. It was a piece of her James, and it would help her get by.
Within a matter of days, her hard work had paid off.
Kaiden Alenko would often stand at the CIC and look out around him. He was a major-the highest ranking Alliance officer onboard-and was by rights the commanding odficer of the Normandy. Each time he would think of himself as such, a sick feeling would rise from the pit of his stomach. This was Shepard's ship, and Shepard's crew. He wouldn't allow himself to usurp that command, even if the commander was dead.
And if you don't, you'll never see Earth again.
He had this argument with himself several times a day. He had taken to organizing the repair and salvage teams, and had done so quite well. Adams in Engineering was convinced the ship would be airborne in another week's time, and probably much sooner. The ship would need a captain, and soon.
Shepard's ship Shepard's crew
He's dead it's up to you
Shepard's ship Shepard's crew
Kaidan felt a migraine coming on, and he closed his eyes. This was going to be a bad one, when compared to previous experience. Yet another reason why he felt inadequate to command the Normandy. Goddamned headaches. Goddamned implants. Goddamned Shepard.
Kaidan rubbed his temples; what a fine mess he found himself in.
"Hey jefe, you okay?"
James Vega hobbled through the elevator door, heavily favoring a right leg that had met the business end of a brute during the battle for Earth. He grunted and groaned, finally leaning against Specialist Traynor's terminal.
"Didn't expect to see you up and moving so soon, Lieutenant," Kaidan said. "How's the leg?"
James rubbed the bandage wrapped around his wound. "Hurts like hell, but I couldn't stand hanging around the med bay. Doc turned her back, and I slipped out." He grimaced again as he shifted his weight. "Think I'll be paying for this one later, though. What about you, jefe? Another headache?"
"More than one, James," Kaidan said with a weak smile. "More than one."
James nodded. "I hear ya. Scuttlebutt is that we're close to getting this tin can back in the air."
"If we're fast and lucky, we're a week away," Kaidan confirmed. "Adams seems to think we may be closer than that."
"What about you?" James asked. "Will you be ready?"
Kaidan chuckled. "Good question."
James frowned. "I'm serious. Everything we've been through, we need a strong leader up here. That's the only way this works."
"Easy for you to say," Kaidan responded. "You're not the one everyone's looking to for answers."
James shook his head. "Good thing, too. Most of my answers involve large amounts of alcohol." Kaidan couldn't help but laugh, migraine or not. "Seriously, jefe? Has to be you. You know it, and so does everyone else on this boat. And you know that's what he would want."
Kaidan nodded. The kid was right.
"Got some tequila under my bunk, in case you do need some answers," James chided. "But I'd better get back before the good doctor takes my good leg." James did his best to snap a salute before stumbling back to the elevator.
Yeah, Kaidan thought. Guess that settles it.
Tali was a little surprised when she heard the telltale ding that indicated the comunications relay had come back online. She had been certain that the problem had been more than a disconnected coupling, but she certainly wouldn't argue with the results. Of course, one way comunications were going to be worthless in this jungle, but it was still an improvement. Progress. It was one step closer to getting off this rock and getting back to Earth, and to James.
What she hadn't expected, however, was another ding, this time indicating there was a message waiting.
Curiosity overwhelmed the young machinist as she opened the terminal, input her credentials, and waited for the message screen to open up. She was pleased to see that the message had come from the Alliance. It was yet another sign that things were slowly and surely returning to normal. At the very least, the comm networks were coming back up.
Nothing could have prepared her for the message that awaited. She had to read through two, three...hell, four times before it really started to hit her.
Then, it did. She bounced on the balls of her feet as tears streamed down her face, hidden by the mask on her face. After copying the notice to her omni-tool, she dashed from the war room, through the security checkpoint (thankfully, still offline), and into the CIC Kaidan was excitedly staring at the commander's personal terminal as she ran up. Their eyes met, and it was obvious they both knew.
They both were out of breath and trying to talk over one another, before both finally stopped, laughed, and hugged.
Shepard was alive.