Summary: Omega is a good place to lose yourself.
Beta-ed by lovely Mordinette, thank you so much.
Chapter 2
I wish you could remind me who I was
Because every day I'm a little further off
.-
Omega is more or less what Shepard expected it to be, based on what she has heard over the years and what the extranet suggested. The extranet didn't say that it also reeks of desperation and seems to be the least hygienic place Shepard has ever been in, years of dirt caked in every corner.
Their first mission is easy enough, Zaeed Massani is practically waiting for them. He's very much what his dossier said he was: a harsh mercenary through and through. He looks more at home on Omega than she ever could. Shepard is less than surprised that Cerberus expects her to fulfill the agreement they had made with Zaeed; nothing is ever simple or free, is it?
Aria T'Loak is maybe not as impressive as xir minions and a few scattered extranet articles made xir sound, but xe is every bit as ruthless. The Queen of Omega couldn't be anything else, Shepard supposes, to keep a grip on the whole corrupted station. There is something about xir straightforwardness and hair-trigger temper that Shepard finds refreshingly honest, though. Aria is the type that wouldn't waste too much time trying to manipulate before resorting to violence - and after the Illusive Man and his constant mind games, xe is a welcome respite.
Aria gives Shepard some information and doesn't name a price, which is more than Shepard expected. It might be a way to avoid a dead Spectre ruffling some feathers by asking too many questions and shooting at too many people. Omega doesn't seem like a place where people care to have sense talked into them, which seems almost alright to Shepard, given her current state of mind.
Dying and being rebuilt by a xenophobic and terrorist organization can sure piss off a person. Who knew?
Shepard signs up with the mercs to go after Archangel, but they don't seem to be in a rush. They still need more freelancers, the batarian tells her, so she imagines they would have to sit and wait for the attack to be launched. Meanwhile, a plague is killing hundreds of people and the doctor Shepard needs to contact might just have the cure, by all reports.
Zaeed stays in Afterlife with orders of keeping an eye on the mercs in case they launched the attack before Shepard comes back and stall them if possible. Zaeed looks almost too happy at the chance of inflicting violence, so Shepard reminds him that she will not take any civilian casualties.
"You want me to stall them or not?" Zaeed asks with exasperation. "No one is innocent on Omega, Shepard."
"No civilians, Zaeed, that's an order," Shepard repeats, standing at her full height.
Zaeed's rusty voice doesn't seem appropriate for chuckling. "Or what? You strip me of my rank, Commander?"
Shepard has dealt with insubordination before, mostly because being a high ranked woman in the military meant every now and then a man would question her abilities and decisions because a part of his brain was still living in the past millennium. Shepard has had to put many men like Zaeed in their place before, and while none of them are technically part of the Alliance, discipline on any ship is basically the same.
"Or you never set foot on my ship again. You get stuck in this hellhole and you can kiss goodbye the little trip Cerberus offered you on my account," Shepard replies.
Zaeed's expression clouds over. "You wouldn't…"
"Try me," Shepard dares him. "You either fall in line or get the hell out of my way."
Zaeed glares at her before getting in her face. Shepard does not budge an inch. "Fall in line, eh? Sure. For now."
Shepard doesn't press him further; it would only end somewhere bloody and she has no time to waste arguing with an angry merc, but she will make sure to take him with her on her next mission to make sure he understands she gives the orders.
The plague on Omega is worse than Shepard expected. They are burning bodies, inside a space station, just to try and hold it back a little longer. By all accounts, it's not even working.
The sight and the stench of burning flesh brings back memories of Mindoir. Desperation hangs in the air, sour and suffocating.
Shepard guns down a couple of mercs before approaching a batarian who is lying in a corner, mumbling under his breath with his head lolling about. Blood trails down his mouth and he reeks of something Shepard doesn't want to think about.
The batarian blames humans for the plague and curses at her. When he begins coughing and choking in his own blood, Shepard deploys her omni-tool out of instinct; helping is a deeply ingrained habit of hers, a habit she forced upon herself after Mindoir and Akuze, after being the only one left alive both times. To make up for failing to save others, to deal with the guilt of being lucky enough to survive.
How well has that served her, though? She is alone again. She is not even unlucky enough to stay dead. Or perhaps she has never been lucky enough to die.
Shepard stares at the dying batarian and thinks of her colony planet. Thinks of slavers. Thinks of smoke and burning flesh, and of the dark cold night she spent hiding with water up to her waist, too numb and shocked to cry.
The batarian spasms once and slumps to the ground.
"Well, I doubt he could have helped us anyway," Miranda says in a disinterested tone.
Jacob kneels down and picks up a datapad the dead batarian had been clutching. "Well, at least he had something of value," he comments. He sounds angry, but Shepard isn't sure of the cause. There are too many options.
"Take it," Shepard tells him. Jacob nods and throws one last disdainful look at the batarian before standing up.
"Don't like batarians?" Shepard blurts out before she can stop herself.
Jacob's back straightens like he is saluting; the man would never stop being a soldier. "No one likes batarians, ma'am. Especially not after Mindoir," he points out without looking at her.
Shepard arches an eyebrow but doesn't ask anything further. Most people would have mentioned the Skyllian Blitz. Mindoir is only ever remembered because of her, because it was the home planet of the First Human Spectre - and even then not by most people. Mindoir has always been a somewhat forgotten fact, an obscure trivia part of Commander Shepard's biography.
Jacob has done his homework. Cerberus probably gave every member of Lazarus Project a dossier about her. Shepard decides to read Jacob's and Mirada's files when she goes back to the Normandy. It is only fair.
Shepard takes the cure from Professor Solus. The salarian talks too fast and it grits on Shepard's nerves unexpectedly. She snaps at him and orders him to pause to breathe and hates herself for it as soon as the words have left her mouth. She tries to force herself to be patient, but it's hard when all she can think of is the batarian she left to die and how she shouldn't have. Chances are he never had anything to do with Mindoir, she knows this.
She tried for years to leave her past behind her and to avoid resentment clouding her judgment. It was hard but she kept on it, utterly convinced mercy was the brand of a true warrior and that second chances were something everybody needed. She has had three of those by now, after all. And she has to believe she can make them count.
But that belief seems hard to grasp right now, buried under the constant dull ache and mistrust and something oppressive she can't quite name. She is trying, but some things just seem to be slipping from her grasp - mainly her patience and tolerance.
Solus's assistant Daniel is being held by infected, angry batarians. Shepard threatens to kill them if they don't let the man go, and is severely tempted to go back on her word once they do. She knows she would never even have considered it before; she was proud to have forged a reputation of her word being as good as a signed contract.
After a few moments of consideration, she agrees to let them go, if only because it would put the assistant in danger if she didn't.
('Are you crazy? You could have hit the hostage!' Shepard hears her own outraged voice in her mind and a small smile forms on her lips. It's moderately ironic.)
Yes, doing the right thing is never easy. She remembers this. She remembers repeating it incessantly to her old crew, like she is repeating it to herself now. Some of them never seemed too convinced, but they followed her lead anyway.
Shepard clings to her former, deceased self's words and thinks: 'What would the old me do?'
It isn't until they are ambushed by Blood Pack mercenaries on their way to Environmental Control that Shepard finally gets a chance to take out her sniper rifle and use it. She has missed it, perching on the high ground and selecting targets carefully.
Shepard breathes deeply once to stabilize her aim, the beating of her heart already slowing down. She picks a vorcha sneaking around a pillar to get the jump on Jacob.
She pulls the trigger too soon and misses.
Shepard curses. Her hands are not as steady as they should be and even if she is somewhat calmer, she is not calm enough. Sniping takes more patience than any other kind of tactic, she reminds herself.
Miranda shouts a warning at her and suddenly Shepard is flying away after being hit by a charging krogan, he kinetic barriers barely holding up. Shepard rolls and struggles to her feet, one hand going to her pistol, but not before the krogan charges again.
Shepard lifts her gun to the krogan's abdomen, already certain that she will not be fast enough to do any real damage, when her body unexpectedly throws a biotic wall at the krogan, knocking him back.
Shepard stares at the merc in horror.
I am not a biotic.
The krogan makes to stand up and Shepard empties her thermal clip on his head out of reflex. When the krogan crumbles to the ground and stops moving, she looks at her hands, heart hammering in her chest.
No.
As soon as the Blood Pack mercenaries are dead, Shepard storms up to Miranda, grabs her from the collar and shakes her once with all her strength.
Miranda's biotics immediately flare around her skin. Her eyes widen in shock for a second before narrowing dangerously. Miranda closes her hands around Shepard's wrists and squeezes hard, her biotics augmenting her strength several times over.
Shepard winces but doesn't let go.
"Want to tell me what the hell you think you're doing, Shepard?" Miranda asks in a cold and sharp voice.
"Want to tell me why I have biotic powers for the first time in my life?" Shepard spits at her.
Miranda's pressure on her wrists lessens to a non-painful level, but she maintains a strong hold on Shepard. "We didn't know if it would work. The Illusive Man said we should give you every advantage, including biotics."
Shepard's grip tightens at the mention of the Cerberus' leader. She pulls Miranda a little closer.
"You said he didn't want to change me. My abilities," Shepard reminds her. "This is changing my abilities, Miranda."
"Let go of me or I will break your wrists, Shepard," Miranda warns.
Shepard frowns but obeys. She has no doubt Miranda would follow through.
Miranda straightens her outfit. "Alright, now that we can talk like adults," she says disdainfully, crossing her arms, "yes, we altered your abilities in that sense. There was only a small chance the process would take, after all. The most likely outcome was that nothing came out of it."
"Why?" Shepard demands.
Miranda looks away and her fingers play lightly with the collar of her suit. "Well, in part we feared you would be too weak for regular combat conditions; even with the implants, muscular atrophy was inevitable. Your fine motor skills might also have been compromised, despite our best efforts. We were working with a lot of unknowns, Shepard. It was the first time we brought someone back from the dead."
"So you decided to toy with my brain even further and stuck a biotic implant in there," Shepard surmises in a cold and sarcastic voice.
"It worked for me," Miranda points out with a smirk, but her eyes are cold. "You should try to make the most of it, like I do."
"Right. Of course," Shepard says, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "Yeah, you're right, I should thank you for tinkering with my brain and barely holding back from installing a control chip too." Shepard lets out a humorless laugh. "Just because you like your modifications doesn't mean you get the right of doing the same to other people," she adds between clenched theet before turning around.
It surprises her that her voice lacks conviction. She has been able to talk people into or out of many things, including convincing Saren that he was indoctrinated before he killed himself. But right now she wouldn't convince anyone that she is right. Probably because she knows it's a lost battle.
Miranda and Jacob follow her wordlessly for a minute.
"For the record, Shepard: touch me again and I will shoot you," Miranda suddenly says.
Shepard turns to look at her with cold eyes and a threatening smirk.
"Right back at you, Miranda. Try to tinker with any part of my body again and I will kill you. Slowly," Shepard drawls.
Mordin is getting ready to leave for the Normandy when Zaeed contacts Shepard saying the mercenary gangs are getting antsy. Shepard tells Miranda to escort the professor to the ship and leaves with Jacob without looking back. Whatever little amount of trust Miranda had scored before now is lost. She knows it too, no doubt, and Shepard is waiting for the moment when the woman will either try to butter her up or throw a fit about it. There will be repercussions, of that Shepard is certain. And she is ready for them.
As soon as they arrive at Archangel's base, where the attack is taking place, Shepard starts asking around about him. His dossier and Kasumi's are the smallest ones Cerberus handed her, but Shepard doesn't even have a name for the vigilante. No one seems to know anything about him, not even the mercs. It's frustrating.
All of them agree that he is good, though, good enough to team up against him. The tales they tell sound almost exaggerated: perfect planning and execution, sabotaging all of their operations and disappearing, and coming close to killing all of the gangs' leaders on different occasions. Shepard figures any guy who manages to be a real threat to every major mercenary organization in the Terminus system is a person she really could use on her team.
She hears he's a turian and something sparks inside her. Aria calls him reckless and idealistic for trying to take out the gangs. The gangs fear and hate him. His only goal seems to be stopping crime by any means necessary.
Shepard thinks Garrus would have liked him.
Shepard peeks around the barricades, catching brief glimpses of a blue armor. She watches his shots with a critical eye: she is a sniper herself, and she has to admit she is impressed.
Her shields shatter with a crack and Shepard jolts backwards. A flash of blue biotics surround her in irregular waves.
"Commander! You alright?" Jacob whispers urgently.
"Bloody good aim, I gotta say," Zaeed admits begrudgingly.
Shepard shakes her head and the biotic field evaporates. She has no idea how to control them and no time to learn.
"Bastard got me in the shoulder!" she replies, split between annoyed and amused. It hurt, but it didn't break her armor, which is lucky.
She should be more worried, though, because the guy is good, and he has no idea they are on his side.
Although apparently he can miss sometimes.
"Yeah, well, be glad you're still alive," one of the freelancers cowering at the foot of the barricade mutters. "He's gotten two of the people that came with me already."
"Jacob, could you give me a biotics crash course?" Shepard asks the man in a hushed voice.
Jacob blinks. "Right now? Not much I can do." Shepard stares blankly at him and Jacob squirms a little. "Alright, Shepard, I'll try. What have you done so far?"
"I knocked back a krogan. And just now, whatever that was," Shepard replies.
Jacob nods in approval. "You knocked back a krogan? Nice."
"Purely by accident. I thought I was going to die," Shepard says with a smirk.
"No, that's normal. The more scared or angry you get, the more powerful you can be. Wastes a lot of energy, though," Jacob surmises. He frowns at her with a thoughtful expression. "Think you could pull up a barrier again? Should help in case your shields drop."
Shepard tries, without really knowing how, to conjure a barrier. She focuses on her skin, on protecting herself. A small flicker of blue dances around her, but she has no idea how she managed it and it soon disappears again.
Shepard huffs in irritation.
She's not sure whether she is happy about it or not. As much as Shepard hates how Cerberus experimented on her, how they took whatever liberties they saw fit with her body, she has always been pragmatic and admits Miranda has a point about how Shepard should make the most of it. Biotics are useful indeed, even if the thought of how she got them makes her stomach turn.
"I'll give it another shot later," she tells Jacob. "Seems like we are moving soon."
"Finally," Zaeed grumbles. "Getting tired of these arseholes."
For Shepard there has always been something troublingly satisfying with killing mercs. They are dangerous criminals who smuggle drugs, arms and shoot back at her. They wouldn't hesitate to kill her or anybody else, and that makes it easier.
She's still not one hundred percent with shooting them in the back as they think they're on the same team, though, and that makes her feel better. If it was too easy, she would be broken, too far gone.
Archangel barely pays attention to them as they barge in the room he's in. He merely holds a finger to signal them to wait and takes out one more merc. He's exhausted, that much is obvious as he stands up. Then he takes off his helmet before sitting down on the armrest of a couch and Shepard's eyes widen.
"Shepard. I thought you were dead," Garrus drawls, resting his weight on his knees.
Relief shocks the breath out of Shepard. The world seems to sway slightly out of focus, like when she first woke up. A laugh and a shocked question stuck and die in her throat; she merely stands there, staring at the familiar blue colony markings in the turian's face and wondering if this can be true.
"Garrus Vakarian," Jacob suddenly says with a startled laugh and lowers his gun. "I'll be damned. Been looking all over for you, and here you are."
Garrus' eyes snap to him, and despite his tiredness, he seems alert and ready to pounce.
"We met?" he snaps, mistrust coloring his every word.
"Garrus!" Shepard finally manages to blurt out with a small smile she can't fight back, opening her arms and taking a few steps towards the turian. "What are you doing here?"
Garrus' expression softens.
He squints his eyes as he talks. He truly is exhausted (by all accounts the siege has been going on for days), but there's also something hopeless in his tone that catches her attention, and as much as seeing him shocked Shepard, her immediate worry for him seems to force things into focus again. Suddenly Shepard has a clear goal of her own choosing that means more to her than any mission Cerberus could give her: she will get Garrus out of here.
She asks how he got himself cornered like this and Garrus deflects, but he is obviously angry. Garrus sketches a (desperate and vague) plan with a certainty and an air of authority Shepard doesn't remember him having. It suits him.
"I didn't like sneaking in, anyway. Time to spill a little merc blood," Shepard agrees with forced cheer and a grin.
"Glad to see you haven't changed," Garrus replies, but there is something else in his voice - something like a question.
Shepard blinks, unsettled by his words. She has changed, that much is obvious even to herself. She was never one to say such things before… was she? She guesses she was, sometimes, but not always. Only when things got personal or when someone crossed a line that was unforgivable.
She was good at her job, but she never enjoyed killing. She never reveled on it.
Did she?
Garrus lends Shepard his rifle to take a look at the new wave of attackers they will be facing, mostly mechs. By itself that is an enormous gesture of trust, handing her his only weapon like it's nothing while turning his back on Shepard's companions; the same companions he was eyeing with mistrust a few minutes ago. It feels incredibly good to have someone believe in her like that, without question. Garrus just stands firmly by her side, her shoulder brushing his armor as she studies the bridge through the rifle scope. Shepard has needed someone to give her this amount of faith and support. Garrus still should ask the questions, though.
Shepard shoots one of the mechs' head off without pausing to think. A second later she realizes it's the first shot with a sniper rifle she has succeeded with today - she tried it several times in the Environmental Control room without hitting a single target. Her hands and her heartbeat are steady.
She hands Garrus his rifle back.
"Just like old times, Shepard," Garrus says as he kneels to take position and Shepard has to ask the questions he's avoiding. She needs to know.
"How are you so sure I'm me?"
Garrus doesn't even look up. "Who else could you be?"
"I don't know. An impostor? A Cerberus agent?" Shepard suggests while kneeling down next to him and taking aim with her own rifle. Hopefully her luck will hold and she will be able to shoot decently again.
She misses her first shot and lets out a frustrated sigh.
Garrus is methodically blowing off the heads of the mechs on the bridge. "You move like you and you sound like you," Garrus says between shots. "The biotics had me wondering, but you still shoot while putting up your shoulder in that weird way. So." Garrus shrugs. "Besides, why would Cerberus or anyone else come to help me when I'm cornered like this?"
"I didn't know it was you, by the way," Shepard comments. So far she has nailed a little less than half of her shots. She's growing more and more angry; with herself, with Cerberus, with the mercs. With everything. "The biotics were a surprise too."
"I bet. And your aim is even worse than it used to be," Garrus deadpans.
"Har har. You're as funny as ever, I see. Good to know some things don't change." Shepard rolls her eyes, but grins anyway. This is nice, nicer than it should be given the situation, but they are both soldiers and they know being a bit flippant during combat is the only way to stay sane, sometimes.
Perhaps she has always been like this. She is just giving a little more into the impulses she used to keep in a tight grip before.
"They've entered the building," Garrus warns suddenly.
Shepard puts away her sniper rifle. It seems it is a lost cause and the thought makes her even more desperate than anything else so far; the two years she's missed, being brought back to life, Cerberus, the Council, her crew, her ship. It's worse than any of those. Or maybe it's just the last straw.
"Zaeed, stay up here. Jacob, take your shotgun and follow me," Shepard orders before heading towards the stairs with her pistol in hand.
Shepard runs to Garrus' side after the missile hits him. He's not moving. She's not even sure he's breathing.
No. They will not take the one team member she has found so far who is willing to follow her again. A friend that has had her back and believed in her, that believed it was her, even when she herself has had her doubts.
No. No, they won't. She will not lose another friend, another soldier. She refuses. If he is dead, they will pay; Tarak and every Blue Suns merc she ever lays eyes on.
Shepard takes out her grenade launcher and without barely aiming shoots at the gunship hovering outside the window. There is a satisfying boom. She shoots again, and stands up yelling incoherently in defiance. The gunships bullets tear at her shields. She misses, but the grenade explodes near the gunship and rattles it.
Jacob shouts for her to get down, but Shepard ignores him and shoots again. She hits the ship again, which shakes and groans and flies away from the window. Shepard strides towards the window. Tarak will not get away so easily.
"They're coming back! Other window!" Zaeed reports.
Shepard turns around and a bullet graces her side, scratching her armor and knocking the wind out of her. Her shields have finally given out. Shepard rolls to cover, clutching her bruised ribs.
Jacob shouts again and Shepard only nods, not really listening. She has a few grenades left and she will make them count.
When her shields are up again, she breathes deeply before poking around the pillar she's hiding behind and aiming. She gets two good shots and by then her shields are failing, but she's starting to see smoke coming out of the gunship and won't give up now.
A bullet gets her in the arm and Shepard hisses. Blue flickers to life around her in reaction and she lifts the grenade launcher again - her arm hurts like hell by the movement but she manages to aim. When she fires, a biotic throw follows the grenade and the gunship rattles dangerously after being hit by both.
Zaeed lets out a triumphant roar - he really hates the Blue Suns, doesn't he?
A few shots later, the gunship starts plummeting and crashes. Shepard allows herself a few seconds to savour it before she remembers Garrus and she hurries to his side again.
Doctor Chakwas has to order Shepard out of her medbay. The commander is spattered with blue blood and has a forlorn expression that would worry her more if she didn't have her hands full with a dying turian. Chakwas puts the fact away for later and returns to the table where Garrus lies motionless.
"Don't you dare, Garrus," she orders her unconscious patient.
"Shepard, Doctor Chakwas wished to inform you she has succeeded at stabilizing Garrus Vakarian. She also said you should go to the medbay to get yourself checked." EDI's voice chimes in suddenly, startling Shepard.
Shepard blinks and looks around - she had almost forgotten where she is by now. The small hideout underneath Engineering has been almost completely silent, except for the quiet hum of the Normandy's core. After being sent away from the medbay, she had wandered around aimlessly, trying to get somewhere without prying eyes, somewhere quiet.
How long has she been here? Shepard looks at the Serrice Ice Brandy bottle she recovered from Miranda after the debrief. She had been absently peeling off the label and it's now almost completely gone.
Shepard suddenly notices how stiff she is. She has been curled up in the same posture for too long, and she never even got out of her armor, which is digging uncomfortably into several places. She considers going straight to the medbay, but refrains. She won't have the rest of her crew see her like this. She can't. Garrus is alive and stable, and that's enough for the moment. Shepard stands up and grabs the bottle. She will need a shower and a change of clothes before she goes to see Chakwas and gives out orders.
She is exhausted. Shepard leans her back on the elevator wall and closes her eyes, thinking she needs a day off. Around halfway of the ride to her cabin she notices her hands are shaking badly and looks down at them. She barely feels them and she can't stop them, it's like they belong to someone else. The bottle of brandy clatters to the floor but thankfully doesn't break. Then suddenly she chokes out a sob.
Shepard tries to muffle the sounds by burying her face in the crook of her elbow, but she can't stop. She slides to the floor, her free arm curling around herself.
This day just never ends. Too much has happened in so little time and she's being crushed by all of it.
The elevator arrives to the floor with a quiet chime and the doors open. Shepard looks up, startled, but there's no one around. There shouldn't be anyone here, anyway.
The hand around her middle section presses down over her still bruised ribs. The pain helps her focus and sober up. Shepard gets up, sways a little, and stabilizes with a hand on the wall. She picks up the bottle and drags her feet into her cabin.
She'll feel better after a shower.
Her armor is left haphazardly all over the floor, half of it on the way to the bathroom, the other half in a bathroom corner. The water is warm and wipes away the sweat and blood
(blue blood, blue blood everywhere, so much of it, so much blood)
the stench and dirt of Omega.
Shepard starts shaking and claws at the shower wall for support. Her knees buckle and she ends up kneeling in her shower, her head bowed, trying not to hyperventilate.
Crying is easier than hyperventilating, so she does that. She cries until the hot water runs out.
