A/N: Since I finished this story months ago, I don't really see the point in only posting one chapter a week, so I will probably post more often now. Don't expect the release schedule to be predictable though. This story has a very slow build, but it'll get there. I promise.
It started so familiar. Dark forest. Tall trees. Leaves crunching underfoot. Figures appearing from the oily black fog.
First Ashley, with her long dark hair. With dead eyes, she reached out. "Why, Shepard? Why didn't you save me?" As she watched in horror, the woman's skin rippled and shredded, eyes turning dead and blue as she transformed into a mindless husk. The thing that was Ashley shrieked in her face. Shepard ripped it apart with her biotics, as tears poured down her face.
Next was Mordin. He was trapped in a tube on the Collector ship. He screamed and beat on the inside of the glass while his flesh melted and turned to grey goop. She pounded the heels of her hands on the outside, just inches from where her friend died in fear and agony. She couldn't save him.
Thane fell to his knees on the ground before her, the barest blink of an eye after Mordin and the tube disappeared. His chest heaved as he gasped and choked for breath. He reached for her as he fell to the ground, convulsing in pain. She watched, and couldn't help him.
Legion, distinctive in Shepard's old N7 armour, led a squad of Geth against a group of Quarians. The Quarians hid behind trees as the synthetics advanced, mowing them down without mercy. Tali stepped out from behind a tree and Legion blew a hole through her chest. Shepard watched, frozen in place. Tali's visor shattered as she hit the ground, exposing her purple skin and wide, staring dead eyes. Legion stepped on her corpse as he led the hunt on her companions. He walked by Shepard like she wasn't there.
She whipped around at the sound of banshees behind her. Three of them surrounded Jack, who was desperately holding a barrier around herself and a fallen student. The banshees screamed and dragged their claws down the outside of the blue dome. Shepard pulled out her Paladin and ran to save her friend. Jack cried out in agony as the barrier fell. Long-fingered hands dug in where they could reach and pulled her to pieces, red spurting up and staining the ground beneath her. The student lay there through it all, unmoving even when her teacher's blood splashed over her face. She was too late.
And then she was alone. Gone were the trees, the crunching dead leaves. No evidence remained of her friends' deaths. She lay on the cold ground, surrounded by white. She pushed herself up, crying out as agony coursed through her bones. She looked down at her body. Broken armor revealed charred skin, bones that jutted out of her legs like teeth. She shouldn't have been able to stand. She understood this on a distant level, shock and disbelief numbing her brain.
Huge debris was scattered around her. She knew this place. Alchera. This is where I died, she thought dimly.
And then she heard it.
Shepard. That deep, resonating voice. She'd heard it when facing the Collectors. This will not do. You are needed to bring them. We will remake you. Relinquish your form to us. I will show you true power.
She felt herself raising off the ground. Yellow light streamed out of her. In an instant, she fell to the ground, landing on her feet. Together, we are limitless. This time, she felt the words form on her own lips, pour from her own lungs.
Her crew stood before her on the Normandy. Around the CIC, they looked to their leader for guidance. Samantha. Joker. EDI. Liara. Kaidan. James.
She opened her mouth. Embrace perfection, her hollow voice spoke. Their eyes grew wide in horror. They ran, fleeing in all directions. EDI knocked Joker to the ground, bones cracking as he screamed in pain and fear. Shepard advanced on him. Desperately he tried to drag himself backwards, away from her. She felt her mouth break into a smile. Her mouth opened once more, and the ear-splitting creaking, foghorn sound of the Reapers poured out, echoing off the walls.
Shepard woke screaming, strong arms pinning her shoulders to the bed. She swung hard, clocking James hard on his left temple. He reared back, releasing her. Only then did she realise he'd been saying her name, over and over.
"Damn, Lola. Next time I'll just let you sleep it off while I hide in the bathroom." He rubbed at the side of his head with the heel of his hand.
Shepard sat up, staring at him with too-wide eyes, mouth open in horror. Then her head dropped into her hands and she wept.
James had his arms wrapped around her without a second thought. He held her against his chest as she sobbed, chest heaving, throat catching. She clung to him like he was her only reality. He mumbled soothing words and stroked his hand over the stubble on her scalp.
"That sound," she said, muffled by his shirt. "That godforsaken sound."
"What sound, Lola?" James asked softly.
"That sound they make. The one that vibrates your bones, sends chills down your spine. I hear it. I still hear it. When I'm awake. When I'm asleep. Those bastards have been dead for months and I still can't get away from it. I don't even know what's real anymore."
James' heart turned cold and sank into his stomach. "What do you mean?"
"At the end. When I was hit on my way to the beam. I thought I made it. Injured, barely able to walk, but I made it. I went into the Citadel, and I faced the Illusive man. Talked him into killing himself. Not before he shot Anderson though. I had to fire the Catalyst alone. I get there, and some glowy kid tells me I have a choice."
James leaned back to peer into Shepard's eyes. "What choice?" He could barely get the words past the lump in his throat.
"Three things." She brushed the tears from her eye with an angry swipe. "I could choose to control the Reapers, turning them to a force for good in the galaxy."
James' look of horror said it all.
"I could combine all organic and synthetic life in the galaxy, forging a new form of life for everyone."
"What does that even mean?" James asked, shaking his head.
"Or, I could destroy the Reapers, and with them, all synthetics and electronics in the universe. Being as I'm more than a little synthetic now, I would perish with them." Shepard spoke evenly now, but her eyes were still wide, as though she was seeing somewhere else.
"So what did you do?" he asked gently, his face carefully neutral.
"I was confused at first. Conflicted. Everything on the Citadel seemed so strange. Kind of wrong. I assumed it was from the blood loss and head injury."
James nodded, silently encouraging her to continue.
She smiled. A rather frightening expression, really. It was the kind of smile that said the person was clearly imagining what your viscera would look like on the outside of your body. James shuddered, thankful that look wasn't for him. "I remembered. All through this, through everything I've seen, everything we've been through. We had one goal. Kill the Reapers. All of them. No matter the cost. Even if every last sentient life form had to die, the cycle would be broken, and the next races to evolve could live without that threat. They could grow as they were meant to. They would never know the fear we did."
"So you chose to destroy them."
"So I chose to destroy them," she affirmed. "I fired off the Catalyst, and I was there as Anderson bled out. I mourned his death, as I waited for mine."
"But… that's not how it happened," James replied, confused.
"No. But it was real for me. I thought it was real. Next thing I knew I woke up in a hospital bed and Anderson was telling me we won."
"You must have been very confused."
"Yeah. I didn't know what was real anymore. But talking to Miranda and Zaeed and Garrus convinced me that what I experienced didn't actually happen."
"So what did?" James asked.
She shrugged. "There's no way to know for sure. I've had a lot of time to think about it, and I think I've figured it out."
"Well?"
"It was Harbinger. Inside my head. I don't know what he hoped to accomplish by making me choose. If I chose to synthesize all life, would I be a Reaper right now?" she asked in a clinical, detached voice.
James grabbed her arms and pulled her back into his chest. "Fuck, Lola! Don't say shit like that!"
He felt her shrug again. "If it's true…"
"It's not. You made the right choice. You're still you."
"Am I?" she leaned back to look in his eyes. Hers were luminous with pain and unshed tears in the near-dark. "Sometimes I wonder."
She stared off into nothingness. "It would explain so much. That goddamn child told me that they make one new Reaper per cycle. What if they choose someone, indoctrinate them over time until they make the choice to join the Reapers, and then make them one? I've been exposed to more Reaper artifacts than almost anyone. People who've had a fraction of the exposure I've had have turned into gibbering idiots. What makes me so different?"
"You're strong, Shepard. And stubborn. You refused to let them beat you."
She laughed, a harsh, bitter sound in the nighttime silence. "Did I? Or did they groom me, bring me on slowly? I was their loudest detractor, their most vocal enemy. All the races knew who I was and that I stood against the Reapers. What if they could have turned me, but left me otherwise intact. I look like me, I talk like me, but now I've seen the light and we all need to embrace the enlightenment of the Reaper message? I wouldn't be the first to start out by fighting them, then come to believe, almost zealously that they were coming to save us."
James dragged his hands down over his face. "Shit, Lola. I hate to say it, but you're making sense."
"James, it is very, very likely that I have been indoctrinated in some way. Probably on such a deep level that I don't even notice. It's a good thing Anderson was around to finish the job because I'm not sure I was even physically capable of firing the Catalyst even if I wanted to. After everything I fought for, in the end, I failed."
He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a shake. "Is it failure to have a team you can trust to back you up in battle?"
She glared at him, angry. "No."
"Is it failure for that team to take over a task when you've been incapacitated?"
"No. That's good preparation."
"Then what makes you think that having someone like Anderson, who believed in you and backed you up no matter how unpopular your well-known opinions were, finish the job you started, is somehow a failure?"
"It was supposed to be me."
James stood up and started to pace. "You know what? I'm calling bullshit. I think you think you failed because for who-knows-how-long, you've been convinced that your reward for finishing the job was to die in the process."
"What." Shepard's voice came out deadly quiet.
"You heard me." He stopped wearing a hole in the carpet long enough to shoot her a death glare. "You're not upset because you weren't the one to eradicate the Reapers. You're upset because you're still alive."
"What… the… fuck… makes you think you have the right to say that to me?" Her gaze bore right through his head and well through the wall behind him.
"What gives me the right?" He poked himself in the chest. "Easy. I want you to live, Shepard. I want you to want to."
"Yeah well we can't always get what we want," she replied softly, shoulders drooping as all the fight left her.
James sat back down on the bed and pulled Shepard into his chest once again. She rested her head there, comforted by the strong sound of his heartbeat. Her arms hung limply at her sides and she stared off into space for a long time. James didn't say anything else. There wasn't much more he could say.
She rested there, passively accepting his comfort until she finally succumbed to the emotion of the day and fell asleep on him. He eased her to lying down, and stretched out next to her. He was awake for a long time, troubled by their conversation. James put his arms around her, allowing himself the luxury for just this night. He fell asleep that way, her head pillowed by his arm.
There were arms around her. Shepard felt a flash of anger that James had crossed their implicit boundary before the previous twenty four hours crashed down on her. She stiffened. She felt it as James woke. There was a tension in him that hadn't been there before.
He silently took his arms back and padded to the bathroom.
Shepard turned onto her back, relieved that she'd have a moment alone to process. She was absolute shit when it came to emotions. She'd rather face a dozen Banshees with no armour and only a pistol. Damn Anderson for putting me in this position. Part of the reason she loved combat is that she didn't have to deal with feelings. Keep moving, shoot the bad guys. She thought she'd had it bad when the Alliance had repurposed her for interspecies politics. Right now, she'd take that in a heartbeat over having to face her internal demons.
The plan was do go down swinging and never have to deal with the emotional fallout. She supposed that made her a coward. Never thought of myself as one of those, she thought wryly. Still, if the shoe fit…
She sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Scrubbed her fingers into her scalp. Pulled the sterile case off the dresser and slid her amp in with its comforting click.
The bathroom door opened, and James stood in the doorway with the light filtering around him. "You know I can't see your face with you backlit like that."
He turned the light off and stepped into the room.
Shepard stood up. "Look, James. About last night. I'm sorry I lost it like that."
James raised his hand. "No. Don't you dare apologise for that. Everyone has shit they need to deal with. And you've been through more than most. I always knew you were human. Last night doesn't change my opinion of you. I've been a soldier long enough to see more than a few strong men break down. Myself included. It's okay. It's natural. It's normal."
She nodded, relieved. Some part of her had expected him to turn on her. There was little of the great Commander Shepard in the woman she'd been for the last twenty four hours. She should have known better. James had never been phased by her elusive vulnerable side. "Thank-you."
"I did want to apologise for going to sleep with my arms around you." Colour bloomed on his cheekbones. "I don't know…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I just thought you might need it. It won't happen again." Unless you want it to. Nothing in his posture betrayed that last thought.
"I slept well after all…" she waved one hand vaguely, "that. So thank-you. I think I needed it last night."
He nodded. "Bathroom's all yours. Hard day ahead of us if we want to mend fences."
She retrieved her clothes for today and headed to the washroom, glad he'd changed the subject. Time to get back to work, and stuff all that emotional shit back down for a while. Maybe she'd try processing it slowly instead of all at once.
They worked hard that day. Shepard kept a supply of fluids and snacks, and didn't stray from the job for more than a few minutes at a time. Just as James had predicted, she went out of her way to apologise to Terry, and reassure him that she wouldn't let her emotions get in the way of the job again.
James made an effort to stay as far from Shepard as he could while still getting the job done. He was friendly to her when they passed, and she to him, but he felt that hovering in her shadow would hardly convince the men that their nonexistent domestic issues wouldn't get in the way again.
They both took a short lunch and stayed until the light was gone. Still exhausted from the day before, Shepard ate her meal quickly and put herself to bed.
James had plenty of time to make his report to Anderson. Once more he retreated to a quiet, hidden corner of the rooftop and activated the communicator.
"Took you long enough to report in," Anderson said without a greeting.
"Sorry, Sir. Shepard had a bit of an emotional breakdown yesterday. And again last night." The Admiral leaned back in his chair, face pensive. "I thought it was more important to be there if she needed to talk, than to check in. Sorry."
Anderson waved him off. "You made the right call. I just don't like being out of the loop. How is she?"
"Pretty emotional. I've never seen her like this. But she's starting to deal with all that shit she's been holding in, so I think it's a good thing. There were a few things she said last night that I think you should know."
"Like?"
"She feels guilty for not destroying the Reapers herself. Thinks she failed, somehow."
Anderson nodded. "That sounds like her. Anything else?"
James took a long breath. "She thought she made it to the Citadel. That she faced the Illusive Man, and watched him kill you. Described some pretty fucked up stuff she saw." James met Anderson's eyes through the feed, sorrow scribed on his face. "She thinks she's been indoctrinated. Slowly, but pretty deep. She has a hard time looking back and knowing what was real or not. And she confirmed our suspicions. She didn't expect, or want, to live through that battle."
Anderson nodded again, slowly tapping a finger against his lip. "I'd love to get her to a counsellor, but there's so few left. And the ones we've got need counselling of their own. Not to mention she's never liked them. Keep doing what you're doing, Lieutenant. As long as she's starting to deal with all this, I'll leave things as they are. Stay close. She'll need someone in the next few weeks. Let me know if anything changes."
"Yes, Sir."
"Anderson out." The feed went dead.
James packed up the communicator and went back to their room. He hid the palm-sized object once again and climbed into bed next to the Commander. Sliding in until his back rested against hers, he promptly went to sleep.
'Emotionally fragile' would be a good way to describe Shepard over the next couple of weeks. Not to her face though. She's always been quick to anger, but now she was downright volatile.
She made every effort to funnel it into the work. Whether biotics or good old-fashioned exercise: anger, fear and frustration made for excellent fuel.
The crew learned to give her a wide berth. She made their work easier, taking on so much herself, but she had a tendency to be short with anyone who occupied the ten feet or so around her for more than a minute.
James took to going down to the ocean and joining those who gathered there on the beach around a fire made out of any debris that could burn, and drinking poorly-made alcohol. At least there, people were friendly and glad to see him. A few women in particular. It was nice to kick back, have a drink or two, and share some harmless flirtation. If a few of the others shot him dirty looks for cheating on Shepard, let them. There was nothing even remotely resembling a romantic relationship between them, whatever people may think.
So he spent his evenings with laughter and good company and drink, with the constant gnaw of anxiety over how Shepard was handling things. She spent them running off all the fear and anger that, once released, she couldn't seem to stuff back down where she'd stored them for so long.
She'd always been so solid, so strong. Now she spent every waking moment with tears either burning the back of her eyes or pouring down her cheeks. Blind red rage hovered close behind it, and fear that threatened to swamp her under.
So she worked, she ran, and she slept. She hadn't needed James to hold her while she cried again. Part of her missed the feeling of his arms, but a much bigger part was horrified she'd needed them in the first place. The great Commander Shepard didn't need anyone.
But she was learning that she did. She'd surrounded herself with people she trusted, people she cared about. She'd built a family. But she'd been their leader. Couldn't show the cracks. Her crew had to have absolute faith in her ability to succeed. Doubt was their enemy, so even at her very lowest moment, she couldn't reach out. Have to keep it together, keep appearances so the people she relied upon wouldn't give up.
Funny. She'd given up a long time ago. It had taken the combined fleets of all the sentient races in the galaxy to defeat one Reaper. What chance did they have against thousands?
But fighting was all she'd known for so long. It wasn't in her nature to give up. Regardless of the odds, if she was going down, she was going down swinging.
She never expected they'd actually win. All this emotion that threatened her sanity was supposed to stay pushed down where she could ignore it until the Reapers finally got her.
But they didn't. And now she was trapped in an existence where she wasn't allowed to fight, and she was forced to face those emotions.
She was really fucking bad at this.
Weakness? Vulnerability? They were for other people.
She wondered if Anderson would ever let her go back to combat. Or if she was considered too broken, too fragile to be trusted. If they forced her into retirement she didn't know what she'd do.
Either pick a fight with something she couldn't beat, or take up piracy.
Being as she'd picked a fight with the deadliest motherfuckers in the galaxy and was still kicking, she was leaning towards the piracy option.
If Anderson didn't make some effort to let her know what the fuck was going on in the next two weeks, she was seriously considering going AWOL and finding some bad guy asses to kick.
Probably get herself arrested. At least there's plenty of people to fight in prison.
She sighed, putting her thoughts back into that box where she could ignore them for a while, climbed between the sheets and went to sleep.
James wouldn't join her until hours later.
