Hurting: Shepard

Everything hurts.

Her throat hurts. Rannoch is a rocky, dry planet. Shepard keeps swallowing, or licking her lips, trying to find moisture where there is none. Thane would have liked it here. He could have lived here and never struggled to breathe. If the quarians hadn't lost their homeworld, would they have rescued the drell? Would Thane have been born here and lived a healthy life? If he'd never been an assassin, would Irikah have been alive when he met Shepard? Would he have even met his wife? Would he have met Shepard?

Her arms hurt. The targeting laser is far, far heavier than Shepard had been led to believe. There's been so little time between missions that she's had no chance to put down her weapons. Even in the geth consensus, Legion had given her a gun to eliminate traces of Reaper code. Who knew that an imaginary rifle would have such an intense recoil? It doesn't seem fair. Virtual reality should be less real than actual reality.

Her pride hurts. She had to apologize to Admiral Gerrel for punching him, and to all the other admirals for threatening them and trying to confine them like prisoners. Never mind that they've done nothing to try and earn her trust back. No one has apologized for trying to shoot down the dreadnaught, or not pulling their civilians out of harm's way, or asking Shepard to win a goddamn planet for them before they'll agree to help in the fight against the Reapers. (Tali doesn't seem angry anymore, though. That's something.)

Her knees hurt. She's faster and stronger than she used to be, but even her new body has its limits. There is only so far she can run before every step feels like a stab wound. Given how often she has had to run for her life over the past few days, she wonders if she should talk to Dr. Chakwas about taking stims before a mission so that ignoring the pain will be easier. If only stims worked on everything.

Her head hurts. These days, any sort of thinking gives her headaches. She still hasn't decided if she's herself or just a machine Cerberus built to take orders and believe that it is Shepard. Legion thinks that Shepard's thought processes are organic. So does EDI. What's more important? The way you think, or the body your thoughts live in? Does it even matter at all?

Her eyes sting and water from the intense burst of light that flared when a quarian ship managed to shoot the Reaper's firing chamber.

If they could hit it there again, they could take it out. But they can't launch a precision strike. Shepard hates jamming towers.

Legion's voice breaks through Shepard's thoughts. "We may be able to escape—"

Escape means losing Rannoch. Which means losing the quarian fleet. Which could mean losing the war. No.

"No! Pull over!" She jumps down from the hovercraft's gun turret. "EDI, patch the quarians to the Normandy's weapons systems. I want the targeting laser synced up to the whole damn fleet!"

EDI starts working. Legion asks if Shepard needs assistance.

No. "Get out of here, Legion. I'll take it from here." Shepard is the only one who can face down this thing. She was rebuilt to kill Reapers.

(She takes a moment to think of herself as a Reaper-killing machine and to laugh at the irony.)

Even though it's been hit once, this Reaper looks bigger than the one on Tutchanka. Probably because Shepard is trying to stare it down alone. She wonders if this is a bad idea.

No. No, this is the right idea.

This is what Liara meant. Shepard thinks she understands. But everything still hurts.

…

"Shepard, I don't have much time to talk. I'm due for a briefing on the situation on Earth. You can give your mission assessment to my assistant. I'll expect the full report in the next solar cycle." Not even Hackett wants to talk to her. Fair enough. Shepard salutes and the admiral nods. "Hackett out."

The admiral's hologram flickers out. Shepard drums her fingers on the console, waiting. You'd think an ensign would hop to it faster than—

The commander closes her eyes, counts to three and opens them again. If she's hallucinating, at least she's consistent.

"Mom?" Her voice cracks.

Captain—no wait, there are extra stripes on her shoulders—Admiral Shepard smiles. "Hi, Baby."

"Mom!" It's the first time in days Shepard has laughed. "Mom, you're not dead!" She presses the back of her hand to her mouth, trying not to cry.

"You sound disappointed," her mother teases. Shepard shakes her head furiously. Never. Never, never, never.

"I killed a Reaper today, Mom!" Oh, God. Shepard sounds like she's in grade school. I did good on that math test, Mom! I got in a fight with Jenna Miller and gave her a bloody nose, Mom!

"I heard," the admiral laughs. "Didn't you get the quarians a planet, too? And fix up that whole mess with the geth?" This is their family. Killing Reapers and settling old grudges are just part of what's expected of the Shepards.

"There's a whole squad of geth primes coming your way. Not to mention a bunch of quarian engineers and a couple fleets."

"Well, we could use them, that's for sure."

"Are things bad where you are?"

Admiral Shepard shakes her head. "No. We're safe enough, and we've got the whole First Fleet here for protection. As long as no one leaks our location to the Reapers, we ought to be fine for now." She grins at her daughter. "Just don't send us any spies, okay, Baby?"

"I won't," Shepard promises. "Mom." There are so many things to say. Why isn't there more time? "Mom, I don't know what you've heard about—about everyone, but Mars…."

"Hackett mentioned that you were there, right after the Reapers hit Earth. He said Cerberus attacked the base." Her mother's voice trails away.

"That's right. I was there with a small team. Terrorists coming out of our—" Big Shepard frowns, and Shepard changes what she was going to say, "—ears."

"Did you—"

The commander's shoulders slump. "I—We—They had help from the inside. We only found one survivor."

"I figured as much." Shepard can't tell if her mother is upset. She tries to remember what her parents were like around each other. It's harder than it should be. They had lived such separate lives.

Admiral Shepard runs a hand through her hair. "You know about Second Fleet, right?"

"Mike," Shepard chokes. Her mother nods.

"Oh, Baby, I wish you were here. I sure could use a hug."

"I wish you were here, too, Mom." She hangs her head, "I'm so confused. I'm not even sure if I'm human anymore. No one can tell me, either. If you were here, you'd know if I wasn't me. You'd know if I was just a machine."

"Hey, now! None of that. You don't need me to tell you who you are. I don't care if you start bleeding oil and needing to plug yourself in at night." The admiral points a finger at her daughter. "You're a Shepard. You're my little girl. Don't you ever doubt yourself. Oh, if I was on the Normandy, I'd be shaking some sense into you, you can count on that.

"Listen to me." Big Shepard tilts her chin up and looks down her nose at her daughter the way she always does when Baby Shepard steps out of line. "I saw some of the vids of your debriefings on the Alpha Relay. You still bite the left corner of your lower lip when you're nervous or you're trying to think. With just your canines. You've been doing that since you got teeth. What kind of machine would be able to copy that?"

"How do you know though? I mean, you haven't seen me in—"

"How old were you when your Uncle Jack lost his leg? They grafted a bionic one on, remember? That doesn't make him a machine. So what if you've got some metal bits in you? You're still you."

"But—"

"Don't argue with me. I'm right. You know I'm right, and you're just being difficult. Knock it off."

Shepard doesn't hurt as much. "Thanks, Mom."

Her mother stretches her arms out, as though she's trying to reach across space to hold Shepard. "Anytime, Baby."