Shepard couldn't keep shit straight.
She would close her eyes and she would hear the screams, the putrid smell of the acid, the melting skin, the cries of pain and calls for help.
They were everywhere, surrounding her, consuming her.
Slowly, painfully, they crawled toward her, blood and bile seeping through their eyes, noses, mouths, ears. They tried to call out for help, but the blood pouring out of their throats refused a sound beside a sickly gurgle.
Unrecognizable faces swarming all around her as their skin fell away and the twisted tandem of muscle and tendon, shiny from the wet blood. Shepard reached as far as she could, and she would try to grab hold, but the hands, the bloody hands made of muscle and skeleton fell away from her grasp, no one could hold on. As much as she would grip and tighten and scream for them, she could not keep them safe.
Then they would fall, and fall, and fall, and Shepard saw them fall, farther and farther down a darkened hole until she would hear a roar of such frightening proportions that she knew her heart had stopped beating and it was not until the darkened hole threw up a massive ball of green soup would her eyes open.
"Fuck!"
Shepard was sitting up, breathing hard, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She slowly brought up a shaky hand to her sweaty forehead, trying to steady her nerves. She took a few deep controlled breaths before moving to the edge of her bed and shuffled over to the bathroom. Her hand moved around the wall to look for the light switch, when she found it, Shepard saw herself in the mirror.
Shepard was a wreck. It looked as if she hadn't bathed in days, which she might not have, she couldn't remember. Her eyes were bloodshot and a deep purple coloration had taken over the underside of her eyes and eyelids. Her face looked gaunt and hollow. Shepard had also lost a considerable amount of weight. The smallest uniform available didn't even fit right.
This was how it was and she was so goddamn tired.
Shepard dragged one slow foot in front of the other until she reached the bathroom sink. Slowly, her hand reached across the sink and turned the handle of the facet and she waited and stared. Shepard stared for a long time before she remembered where she was. She cupped her hands and placed them under the steady stream of water. Her strength waning from standing for too long, she leaned heavily against the bathroom sink and threw water onto her face.
Without bothering to turn the faucet off, she allowed herself to fall to the bathroom floor and closed her eyes.
"Irenia, it's good to see you."
Shepard slowly moved her eyes away from whatever she was staring at. The grey was such an unnerving contrast with the red.
"Doc." Shepard's voice was hoarse, and her lips cracked as she spoke.
There was a pause. "When's the last time you slept, Shepard?"
Shepard's eyes became unfocused, as if she was thinking. Then after a series of slow blinking, "Last night."
"What about eating? When did you do that last?"
"Don't remember." Shepard paused, clearly trying to remember. "Maybe...maybe yesterday..."
The psychiatrist, Dr. Luis Bruno, needed to try again. He needed a way to get through to her. The two of them had been in sessions for nearly a month now and she hardly spoke. All she would do was stare. It was almost unnerving the way she sat so still, almost like a really ugly mannequin. In truth, Bruno wanted to Section 8 her, send her out. It was clear she was unstable, she had no business in the military.
But the higher ups insisted. Shepard was a good solider, dedicated, strong-willed. She would get far, they said. Bruno didn't understand why the hell they wanted to keep her; it was clear she wasn't eating, her skeleton nearly visible underneath her near transparent and dehydrated skin. She wasn't emancipated, but she was close. She wasn't sleeping, that too, was obvious. Shepard wasn't shitting or pissing herself, though, perhaps that was good sign.
"Shepard." Dr. Bruno started, then he stopped. He tried again, "Irenia, in the three short years you've been part of the Alliance, you've been praised highly by officers, most even, encouraging you into creating an officer's packet for yourself. They still believe in you Shepard to make it through this. They have faith in you."
Her eyes became unfocused again. I'm losing her, Bruno thought, feeling frustrated.
Bruno sighed, surveying Shepard. He was sitting on an old leather chair, a pad of yellow paper was laying across his lap with a blue pen between his fingers, his hand resting on the chair's armrest, his other hand in a fist under his chin.
Bruno loved his chair. He had found it at a yard sale as he wandered the streets of his neighborhood. It was a very comfortable chair, his favorite. It helped him to think, and he found himself figuring out solutions to various problems that some of his patients had. But, with Shepard, his chair was failing him. He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at Shepard, wondering exactly what was going through her mind.
Of course, he had read the brief on Akuze with Captain Anderson, and the official one she had the following morning during recovery. Bruno was also aware of Shepard's past before joining the military; she was affiliated with the Tenth Street Reds, a very dangerous and violent gang that has become near impossible to control. Shepard had seen death before probably even killed before, but Akuze was under different circumstances. Anderson was present for both briefs and was the first to point out the differences in Shepard's persona and believed she was suffering from PTSD. However, no one realized the extent.
A month after the incident, Shepard went out by herself to a bar close to the base she was stationed at. She had already stopped eating, and she was either on an intense physical training regiment or consuming alcohol, often drinking herself into a stupor. Witnesses reported her unconscious at this particular bar, with about fifteen different bottles of alcohol on the table she was sitting at and on the floor beside her feet.
Without warning, she had stood up and started screaming at everyone around her, telling them all to "run!" and "get out!". A few had tried to calm her down, but she began to throw punches and did not stop there. Shepard would reach for empty bottles, escalating to furniture, anything that was within reach, claiming "it" was out to get her. Shepard threw bottles and chairs in every direction and did not stop until several patrons held her down and knocked her unconscious. She had put up quite a fight it seems; several people held deep lacerations and bruises, someone even had a broken hand, and yet, another reported Shepard had broken several ribs. Local PD became invloved then the MP; it was a giant mess and a huge headache.
Shepard was now under strict supervision and her zombie-like state had resulted. She was no longer hurting others, only herself and this was a problem, especially since the Alliance wanted to keep her.
But why?
Bruno had no idea, but he needed to get through to Shepard. He thought back before her fight at the bar. She began acting inwardly after she came out of recovery, not willingly speaking with anyone. Still loyally following orders, her dedication obvious, but it was as if she was simply going through the motions. Her officers had noticed the change and even Captain Anderson seemed concerned about her well-being, often seen with her, trying to chat her up, have some sort of conversation.
Bruno opened his eyes wide. Anderson.
It's Anderson.
The captain kept a close eye on her ever since he met her for the first time. He said he saw something in her, he wanted to know her. Anderson knew that Shepard was going to be someone someday. He must have somehow convinced the higher-ups that she's going to be worth the trouble, because it was Anderson who told Bruno the news. Anderson was the key, Bruno smiled to himself and patted his chair; good work, he thought.
Bruno took one last look at Shepard before reaching behind him for his video/comm link. He phoned Anderson.
"Major," Anderson replied after a few moments, "what can I do for you?"
"I'm with Shepard now." Bruno said, looking into his comm, "You think you can spare a few minutes and head on over?"
There was a pause. "What's this about?"
"Come on, David." Bruno said, "Do me this favor. It'll be worth it, I promise."
"Okay." Anderson replied after another pause. "I'm heading out."
Bruno turned away and looked at Shepard again. He furrowed his eyebrows, there was...something. She was different. Maybe it was nothing.
There was a rap on Bruno's door. The doctor stood up and dropped his pad and pen on his seat before he walked across his room to open it.
"Major," Anderson said with a nod as he walked into the room.
"Captain Anderson," Bruno replied in an undertone, and waved his hand over to Shepard as he closed the door. "There she is."
Anderson turned his head to look at her, his jaw working. "What do you need me to do?"
"Talk to her." Bruno said.
"'Talk to her?'" Anderson repeated, looking bewildered as he turned his head to Bruno. He looked back at Shepard. "What good will that do, Luis?"
"Trust me, David." Bruno said, walking back to his chair. He picked up his pad and pen and settled comfortably back on the chair. Anderson was still by the closed door, looking apprehensive. "Sometimes, I know what I'm doing."
Anderson hesitated, but he moved around the couch Shepard was sitting at. He stood uncomfortably, switching the weight between his feet. Anderson then decided to sit on the edge of the couch beside Shepard. She felt his presence and turned her head. Her eyes opened wide and it looked as if she was struggling to stand but Anderson stopped her.
"At ease, solider." Anderson said, kindly.
Shepard went rigid, but relaxed as she leaned back into the couch. "Captain, sir. It's good to see you."
"Likewise, Shepard." Anderson gave a small smile, then frowned. "I'm sorry I hadn't visited. I would, had I known I could."
"No sweat, Captain."
Anderson stared at her, concern clear on his face. "You want to tell me what's goin' on with you?"
Shepard paused, her eyes looking away before settling back on him. "I'm in lock-down. Think I might be getting discharged."
Bruno was feeling excited, taking a considerable amount of notes. This was the most he had ever heard Shepard speak. Her voice was still hoarse, but the muscles were working. Her lips were cracking, and there was thin lines of blood on her lips. She didn't seem to notice.
"Why do you think that is, solider?" Anderson asked, his voice firm. "You're better than this, Irenia."
Anderson waited, but she didn't answer. Shepard turned her eyes away and stared at her lap. God, Bruno thought, she looked like a pitiful child.
"Do you want to be discharged, Corporal?" Anderson asked, the sound of his voice rising. The captain waited for an answer but Shepard did not reply. "Answer me, damn it. Do you want to be discharged?"
Shepard mumbled something.
"I didn't quite catch that, Shepard." Anderson said, standing up and facing her, his hands behind his back as he stared down at her. "You better fucking shape-up, little girl. This attitude isn't going to get you anywhere and if you want to stay in the best fucking military in the galaxy, you better answer me. Do. You. Want. To Be Discharged?"
"No sir!" Shepard replied clearly.
Bruno felt taken aback at this sudden response. There was a light in her eyes he had never seen before. He couldn't help but smile. He watched amazed as Shepard forced herself to stand in what was clearly a professional stance. It was as if the past few months had never happened. It was as if Shepard was completely normal, had never been part of that bar fight, had never been to Akuze. No pep talk like a military pep talk. Shepard was now standing on her feet, her hands by her thighs, her shoulders back, her chest out, and her spine straight, her feet at 45 degree angles.
"That's what I wanted to hear, Corporal." Anderson said, and began to pace in front of her, his face set. He wasn't done. "What the hell is wrong with you, Shepard? You're one of the best damn soldiers the Alliance has ever had, and you're walking all over it."
"Sir, yes, sir!" Shepard replied, her voice faltering slightly.
"Why is that, Corporal?" Anderson said, still pacing. "Are you feeling sorry for yourself? The Alliance cannot have a pathetic little girl wearing their uniform, is that understood?"
Shepard paused, her voice wavering. "Sir, yes sir!"
"It's the shit you're becoming, Shepard." Anderson replied, angrily. "Drowning in your own self-pity. Do you like the attention, Corporal? Is that what you're looking for?"
"Sir, no, sir!" Shepard hollered, her voice the strongest Bruno had ever heard.
Anderson suddenly stopped pacing and turned on his heel to survey her, his hands still firmly behind his back. He worked his jaw before speaking. "At ease solider."
Shepard relaxed and moved her left foot over, her hands mimicking Anderson's. She looked at Anderson, her face flushed. It was the first time Bruno had seen any color on her. She had gotten angry and that's what Anderson wanted. He wanted to see a reaction out of her. He was testing her.
"Tell me what's on your mind, Irenia."
She didn't answer right away, opening and closing her mouth several time before saying, "I...failed, captain."
"Failed? On Akuze." Anderson understood. Shepard gave an involuntary shudder at the last word that neither Bruno nor Anderson missed, but she said nothing. The captain continued. "What happened on that planet was unexpected, corporal. You couldn't have possibly predicted that."
"Sir, yes, sir." Shepard replied, swallowing.
"Have a seat, Shepard." Anderson said, noticing she was on the verge of collapse from the sheer lack of energy.
Shepard fell heavily into the couch and watched as Anderson sat on the edge of the couch as before, his wrists laying on his knees and his fingers interlocked. "Where's the failure?"
Shepard brought a hand to her forehead. It was shaking as she laid it against her head. Her eyes were tightly closed as if she was trying very hard to think back. She shook her head. When she opened her eyes again, tears had formed, but they did not fall. Damn, Bruno thought continuing to take his notes, Anderson is going to take me out of a job. Shepard opened her mouth, her voice steady and clear.
"Couldn't save anyone, Anderson. Didn't save Mann..."
Anderson sighed softly, still watching her. "No, you didn't."
Shepard dropped her hand, looking at Anderson.
"What's important is that you tried, Shepard." Anderson said, kindly. "You tired your hardest. The families of the 50 soldiers that died were grateful that someone did survive. They were grateful someone lived to tell the account, because not knowing the truth would have been worse. Do you understand, Irenia? You didn't fail, you won, because you survived. I even have the letters in my office to prove it. You could read them, if you'd like."
Bruno and Anderson saw Shepard shudder again, but she was different. It was as if a light-bulb had come on in her eyes and she was seeing everything differently, reawakened somehow. She blinked a few times staring between Anderson and Bruno and then finally looked down at herself. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she stared.
"What are you thinking, Shepard?" Anderson asked, softly.
Shepard looked up at him, more alive than either men have seen her. "I'm hungry."
Admiral Steven Hackett, Captain David Anderson, and Ambassador Donnel Udina were sitting around in Hackett's conference room back on Earth sorting through personnel files. Word had just arrived to Anderson that some sort of Prothean technology had just been discovered on the lush world of Eden Prime. A proud example of humanity's ability to colonize peacefully, despite the Council's unrelenting doubt. The explores of Eden Prime called the newly discovered artifact a beacon. Udina believe the best tactic was to tell the Council this information in order to prove to them that humanity's interest were not purely selfish, but completely universal. It seemed to have worked because the Council decided to allow the Alliance to choose an exceptional soldier with a small team to accompany their top turian agent, Spectre Nihlus Kryik.
Now the three men just needed to choose.
Humanity needed someone with unprecedented skill on the battlefield, someone who would face all odds and still survive. The personnel files were few, but it was between a Tazniano Toscan, a Lac Nang Din, and Irenia Shepard. Anderson knew who he wanted, but convincing the others might prove to be difficult.
"How about Din?" Udina said, "He's grown up among human colonies, his father was an alliance marine, lost his mother at an early age. He followed in his father's footsteps. Excellent combat skills, disobeys direct orders from time to time, but nothing to serious."
"It is serious if he can't follow orders. Not following direct orders can get people killed." Anderson spoke up, looking at Udina, "He wouldn't be a very good leader and that's what we need."
Udina looked at Hackett who nodded his head. "I'd have to agree with David. We need someone who can make decisions on the field with minimal casualties."
Udina shrugged his shoulder and tossed the file on the floor with the others that were disregarded. He pulled over Toscan. "Toscan's a biotic, very skilled, he has an L2 implant, however, but he had never reported any problems with it. He lived on military space stations and learned from the best. Graduated from Grissom Academy, top class."
"Any experience?" Hackett asked.
Udina continued reading, shaking his head slowly, "Not really. A few patrols here and there, but he is basically fresh off the boat, so to speak." Udina looked up, knowing it was a no-go. He tossed it aside.
"Well, what about Shepard?" Udina asked with a sigh, as he shuffled through the last personnel file. He opened her papers and skimmed through it. "Earthborn...but no record of her family."
Captain Anderson was pleased. He leaned back in his chair. "Doesn't have one. She was raised on the streets. Learned to look out for herself."
"I know that name..." Admiral Hackett said, looking at Anderson. He reached over for Shepard's file, turning pages over. He frowned as he read her psych profile. He looked at Anderson again, placing his other hand over his chin. "She saw her whole unit go down on Akuze. Her past dealings with that is questionable at best. She could still have some real serious emotional scars."
"She's dealt with it. I saw to it, personally." Anderson replied, remembering, "You know every soldier has scars, Steve. Shepard's a survivor."
Anderson believed that wholeheartedly. After their first meeting at Bruno's office, Shepard had taken the necessary steps to change considerably. She still had to be monitored at the early stages, but she followed the strict protocol Bruno provided for her and never wavered. Shepard proved herself and was allowed back in the ranks of the Alliance military, the only exception was that she needed to start over and re-enlist as a private. She took this with grace, however, believing this to be a second chance to start her life over. Anderson had taken it upon himself to mentor her and she confirmed her abilities and skill time and time again. Soon, Shepard had gotten herself in excellent shape of mind and body and proved once again to be a damn good soldier, moving up quickly amongst the ranks and recently becoming an O-5, a Commander. Anderson couldn't have been more proud. Shepard has confided in the captain the nightmares would come once in awhile, but she simply reminded herself she was still alive.
"You've gotten quite close to the Commander, Anderson." Udina said, eyeing the captain suspiciously, "Aren't you taking a personal stake in this?"
"Of course it's personal, Udina." Anderson replied, not missing a beat. He never really liked the Ambassador. The captain frowned at the tone, "It's all personal. Humanity rests with this discovery and we need the best. Shepard is the best there is."
"Is Shepard the kind of person we want protecting the galaxy?" Udina made a noise of contempt.
Anderson looked at the Ambassador furrowing his eyebrows and liking him even less, "That's the only type of person who can protect the galaxy."
Udina didn't say anything right away as he looked at the Admiral. Hackett stayed silent, not protesting either way. He finally gave a small nod and Udina finished with a sigh, "...I'll make the call."
As soon as Udina stood up and walked out the door of the conference room, Hackett finally spoke up, "David, you and I have known each other for a long time. I trust in your decisions and I would never disregard your opinions, but I swear to you, Shepard better be what you say she is, or there will be hell to pay, by you. And me."
"I promise you, Steve, she is." Anderson said, firmly, "You won't regret this decision."
"I haven't made a decision, yet, David. This is a trial-run." Hackett replied, standing. His hands behind his back he stared out his conference window. It was a beautiful day; there were no clouds and the sky was particularly blue. It was spring, flowers were in bloom and the weather was slightly breezy but comfortable. He could see soldiers going about their business, no one in a hurry, simply drinking in the scenery as they walked. The admiral continued, "It isn't just me, either. The Council thinks so little of us. If we make a mistake with such a big mission, I have to believe the Council would make the choice to cut us off entirely."
"As much as I hate saying it," Anderson said, walking over to stand beside Hackett, "Udina is a good politician. He'd find some way to fix it."
"You know as well as I do, we can't solely rely on the Ambassador, because that's all he is, a politician." the admiral stated, looking at Anderson, "No, we need to be right from the get-go and that starts with our decision in defending all of humanity. My decision."
"I'd hate to be in your shoes, Admiral." Anderson replied, with a small smile.
The admiral returned his smile, "Me too, Anderson."
