This is the conclusion to Belonging. Expect a new story on Friday.
I admit, I kind of messed with the re-union scene. Hope it's OK.
Belonging
2
-John Shepard-
Things come into painful focus as his eyes open, his surroundings blurring and then sharpening.
The first thing he notices, other than the fact that his jaw feels like it's on fire, is how big this room is - he can't be on the Normandy. He looks around. Where the hell is the Normandy?
Then he remembers that there is no Normandy, and the fact slams into him, leaving him with a physical pain in his chest.
Wait - shouldn't I be dead? The crew - ?
This and so many other questions rattle around in his head as he tries to snap out of it and begins to systematically, instinctively obey the slightly tinny voice coming from some speakers overhead, his only chance of getting out of here; while playing soldier, he pushes all thoughts to the back of his head, knowing the crew survived, except the important one: Tali.
Cerberus. Just the name has him having to clamp down on his shaking hands - no, his hands never shake, he's held a gun since he was fifteen, but they are shaking - and that's when he nearly panics, the closest he comes to losing his composure since he was the scared kid who'd just been recruited.
Akuze, Kahoku... Their fault.
The first opportunity he gets, he's out of here; the very thought of working for them feels... dirty, somehow, like a stain he'd never be able to wash off, never mind the fact that their technology is in him - does that mean they own him? Is this even him thinking this, or is he just some terrorist puppet engineered to look like and think vaguely like the old John Shepard?
He can't even bring himself to look the operatives - one of whom killed a man in cold blood, insisting she was right - in the eye.
He tries to avoid worrying about the crew, knowing that the vast majority got to the escape pods, avoids thinking about the Cerberus owned, reconstructed body he's in, because it sends bile to the back of his throat (this "iconic Commander Shepard" they seem to be looking for, the hero to rally the troops, wouldn't be sick all over their shiny ship floor, he supposes). It won't solve anything anyway, so he focuses on the one thing he hopes will get him through, the mantra going through his head that even the reasonable soldier in him can't push out of his head, because it feels like it's in his blood and his heart now. She's alive. She's alive. Tali's alive.
Her name is still in his head as he stares at the guy - at the hologram of the guy, he corrects himself - in the office chair, noting his cold, controlled front and his glowing, unnaturally blue eyes. Shepard wonders if he tries out the cybernetics on the Cerberus recruits before he uses them himself.
He asks about every one of his crew, the old squad, devouring information about them, almost treating it like oxygen, though the diplomatic, seasoned commander in him knows not to show it - he doesn't want to give this guy any sort of upper hand, show that he has anything he needs.
He doesn't give this "Illusive Man" the satisfaction of thinking that he's weak; he meets that intense, glaring, technologically-enhanced stare every time it's directed at him, walking out of the holo room with head held high and fury in his heart.
Even his death wasn't allowed to be on his own terms.
"Just like old times, huh?"
John smiles to see his pilot again (sure, Joker's pride got him killed, but that's something for another day, and maybe bygones should be bygones, and right now his head's too full of Tali to focus on anything else), but he knows that he's wrong - this ship will never be the old Normandy, and every time he instinctively looks to his side, she isn't there. She's on her own ship now, leading her own squad, and a welling of pride fights with the sudden ache in his chest at the thought of it.
This Normandy doesn't feel like his did. He needs to take a look around and meet the new crew, and part of him wants to, but the other part of him just wants to cling onto whatever he has left from the past, so, only half-realising where his feet are leading him, he finds himself behind Joker's chair.
Surely there must be something wrong with the ship? Surely Joker must hate the AI? Anything that will make a foolish, childish part of him feel better in knowing that this ship isn't as good as his Normandy.
His heart sinks as he realises that Joker is grinning, and as his pilot heaps praise on this new ship, a bitter little part of him thinks, Leather seats are no exchange for loyalty.
He vaguely remembers Freedom's Progress - it's a tiny colony, mostly for research, but he thinks he might have been stationed there once. He sleepwalks round his new crew on the journey, trying to make conversation like the good commander they've apparently heard so much about, but barely registers their names.
It's been two years. The old crew, they're all gone. He doesn't know this ship, barely knows any of the crew.
He doesn't belong here.
He tells himself it's a stupid thought, that he often got posted to different ships; that's the way the Alliance works, he should be used to transfers and cutting ties by now. He ignores the thought in the back of his mind that the Normandy crew were the closest thing he's ever had to a family.
At least they're alive. She's alive. As he smiles and compliments this crew that aren't his, handles it all so calmly, he thinks that those are the thoughts keeping him sane.
The only thing that seems to snap him out of this autopilot state is seeing Chakwas again. His heart soars, and for a moment it's just like old times...
... Until he realises that the crew are gone and this isn't his ship - it belongs to Cerberus, and they've probably got bugs in every inch of the walls.
There's barely any impact when the ship lands cleanly on the planet - he'd forgotten just how good Joker was - but he still feels it, looking up and slipping the last armour piece on, making sure the gauntlet's secure, and grabbing an assault rifle and shotgun that have mysteriously appeared in his weapons locker: Cerberus. He dimly realises that these weapons are actually better than his old ones, but determinedly ignores the thought. He refuses to be grateful for anything they give him.
Telling the Cerberus operatives that seem to have decided to take charge of his life to follow him, he steps out of the airlock and onto the planet's surface.
It's deserted, he thinks, looking around, a rising feeling of foreboding making the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Apprehension saturates the air here, the silence deafening and the conspicuous emptiness of the place haunting their every step.
Putting who they work for to the back of his mind - he's "Commander Shepard" now, his personal alliances don't matter on the battlefield - he gives Lawson and Taylor as many orders as he can think of.
It's only when the mechs start shooting at them that he realises that they must have been programmed. They aren't alone here after all.
He stops in his tracks when the next door they open reveals a team of quarians. What the - ?
For a moment, he's too busy focusing on the fact that one of them seems to be waving a gun at him and shouting that he works with Cerberus to take a closer look at the other, female quarian ordering her teammate to stand down.
Eventually, he does.
Wait - he must be wrong. He looks to her with a frown, ordering the Cerberus agents to lower their weapons, because, though half of him is telling him he's probably mistaken, that you can't really see who quarians are under their enviro-suits, the other half of him has somehow known since he saw her, since he heard her voice.
He's known her long enough to be able to tell that she's wide-eyed under the mask. "Shepard - ?"
He nods slowly, putting away his assault rifle as a gesture of trust at the same time as she does; Lawson stares at him in horror, as if to ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing, surrendering in a room full of armed aliens, but Jacob seems to trust his judgement, and straps his gun away as well.
Shepard ignores Lawson. Like he would shoot Tali, anyway. It may have been two years for her, but for him, it was yesterday. "I guess there's... uh, a lot to catch up on. Being dead kind of takes you out of the loop." He gives her an almost sheepish grin.
The hug takes him by surprise, as well as the whispered words for his ears alone: "I thought you were dead, John."
He says, quietly, "I was. I'll explain. Later."
"Tell me you're not with Cerberus."
He shakes his head. "Never."
She steps away, and even though she's standing with her new team again and everyone else in the room is staring at them as if they've grown an extra head each, for a brief, treasured second, it's just like old times.
Though he's tried to fight the admission, knowing she's moved on, it hits him hard, and he can't pretend anymore.
He belongs here.
He belongs where she is.
