Shepard
I lay out booze on the mess countertops and gather glasses. We just survived a mission to end all missions, and I damn well intend to celebrate with my crew.
"Alright, everybody!" I yell. "We did what everyone thought was impossible. We did it for the good of the galaxy, whether they know it or not. Tonight the drinks are on the Illusive Man, may he rot in fucking hell."
The crew erupts in shouts.
"Tonight," I continue. "We are goddamn heroes. We are goddamn warriors!" I grin as Grunt pounds his fists in response. "And we! Are goddamn! Alive!"
"Fuck yeah!" Jack yells, rushing out of the medbay. "I don't know about you assholes, but after holding up that damn bubble I'm getting shithoused!"
Jacob follows her out, clapping me on the back as he goes. Behind him is Miranda, composed as always, except that just a few hours ago she was anything but. And Zaeed stays behind with Dr. Chakwas with an oddly endearing look in his eyes.
"You did great, Shepard," Miranda intones. "Admittedly, I didn't think we could pull this off. Not without losses." She looks away briefly. "I'm… impressed. It makes me think that part of The Illusive Man was still there. That he was onto something when we began all… this." She stares at Samara conversing with Thane, then turns back to me. "This doesn't matter now, of course. He isn't going to be happy about our defection. If he never had our best interests at heart before, I can't imagine…"
I notice her clinching her fists, and despite her exhaustion I can sense the familiar prickles of a biotic flare. "Hey," I say, putting an arm on her shoulder. "What's done is done, and it took guts. We can't risk any liabilities, not with the Reapers out there. And we did what we set out to do, no casualties. That's a pretty good day in my book." I smirk, and the smile fades as I say, "it took guts. Thank you."
She nods faintly. "It was only a good day given your love of pyrotechnics." She smiles at that, then walks over to the makeshift bar. "Shepard. Given what we know, I'm not quite sure what to do with myself now."
I shrug. "Anything you want, remember? You know what's coming, and I know you got priorities. Keep her safe, and use those talents for the Reapers."
"Yes, I suppose you're right," Miranda says. She pours a coping mechanism-sized glass of asari wine. "But for now, here's to the Illusive Man. For giving me the best job I've ever quit."
"To the Illusive Man," I call back. "If the lung cancer doesn't get him, my bullet will!"
Kasumi shimmers into view, grabbing a drink. "No one kills him until I rob that bastard blind." She grins at me. "Shep, we did it."
"We did, and as you humans put it, it was a cakewalk." Garrus flicks a mandible at me as he swaggers toward us. "First Saren, now the Collectors? Remind me never to get on your bad side."
"Keep firing your big gun like you did earlier and you never will," I reply, pouring a drink.
"Damn, Shep," Kasumi says, cloaking out. "I did say live a little."
Heat creeps through my cheeks. "Oh for the love– I meant the damn Thanix cannons!"
Miranda raises a brow at me while Garrus couldn't look smugger if he tried.
"Fucking hate living on ships," I mutter.
"I'm glad that for the moment you do," Miranda quips. "The Normandy is in an obvious state of disrepair. I took the liberty of coordinating maintenance work on Omega. We're in route now and should arrive in a couple of hours."
"Noted," I reply, grateful for the change of subject. "Good work, Miranda."
"Now whatever you do during that time is up to you," she says craftily, eyeing us before sauntering away.
Mutiny.
I sigh, then turn to Garrus. And it's clear from the way his mandible twitches that he's trying really hard to suppress a shit eating grin over the whole thing. I shake my head and smile.
"You know," he starts. "We did save some lives."
"That we did," I reply. I smile at him, but the way he's leering at me, completely failing at holding in his smile. Just what is so damn funny? Wait…
"Oh my lord. You really are the one turian that thinks he's funny." I jab his chest.
"It's not the worst policy," he says, laughing. Garrus leans in a little closer and I can just feel his subharmonics. "In fact, saving lives and reaping the uh… benefits is a damn good policy."
I barely stifle a laugh. "Yeah, you're right. C'mon, let's celebrate, then we can… celebrate," I say with a wink.
By the time we dock, I see half the crew passed out from exhaustion or inebriation. The rest are still at it in the mess, drinking and singing old songs. I pass through for a snack just as Mordin and Ken finish up a slurred rendition of Amazing Grace.
I see Tali emerge from crew quarters as I head back toward the lift. "Had enough of the party?" I ask.
"I don't know about you," she says, shaking her head, "but I needed some sleep before I even think about replacing drive cores."
"We all earned a rest after today," I reply. And while I can never hope to be as good as reading body language as a quarian, there was something about how Tali was shifting back and forth. "What's eating you?"
"That obvious, huh?" She slumps, looking downright dejected. "I shouldn't have doubted you. I should have gone with you back on Freedom's Progress. If I did… sometimes I wonder if. If they'd still be alive."
I motion to her and we sit, backs against the smooth, chilly walls. I can hear Ken in the mess starting up a bawdy song, swearing it's the anthem of his people. Tali shifts a little beside me, still fidgeting, after all this time.
"And even after that," she continues, "you saved my life, and helped me with my trial… Shepard… keelah, I'm sorry."
"Whoa there." I'm not sure even now if quarians can cry, but I'm sure as hell not about to find out. "It's alright. You did the right thing when it counted. Always have. And you saved our asses more than a few times." I sigh. "People die. It sucks. But you can't stop being better for them. If you stop…"
You just fail all over again.
Tali shudders, and pulls her feet in. "I think I understand. But Shepard, I mean it. I'm sorry."
"Don't be." I wave a hand. "As I recall, your options at the time were your people's mission and a loudmouth ghost. Only an insane person would sign on with no hesitation."
"Garrus did."
Not sure if that contradicts my statement.
"Yeah well," I mumble.
"Shepard, I mean it. And I know this comes at a bad time saying it, but I am sorry."
I nod. The elevator doors open, and we watch as a couple more crewmen stumble towards the crew quarters. I'm not sure why she's getting this sudden guilt streak, but this isn't like Tali. Sure, when she left on Freedom's Progress without me, it hurt at first, but she joined up in the end. She was there for me. But something about what she said nags at me, and I can't help but recall a sad angry blue face, lamenting bad timing.
"What comes at a bad time?"
She fidgets her hands, head ducked. "At some point I need to go back to the fleet. I need to rally them against the Reapers. You saw what we destroyed. If they're caught blind my entire race could be wiped out."
I sigh and lean further against the back wall. "Yeah."
"And right now, we're a mess. We just lost an Admiral. And some still can't let go of old wounds." She clunks her head against the wall. "There's too few of us to fight the geth, Shepard. There's too many of them, and even if we got our planet back…" She sighs. "I have to go back."
I nod. "I get it."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," I reply. "We should all be doing the exact same thing. It's just…" I trail off. It's just like old times, really. Though not all of it was good or nostalgic. After we defeated Saren, we celebrated like any crew should. But a lot of us parted ways. Tali went back to her people then too, and while it was expected it didn't make me miss her any less.
"Just what?" she asks.
"It's nothing." I lie. Gotta keep it together at least for her sake. "Give 'em hell when you get back, Tali'Zorah vas Normandy."
"Always, Shepard."
Garrus
"At some point we will have to leave the cabin, Shepard," I say, rolling over beside her.
There were too many hull breaches and damaged systems to risk going through a mass relay again, and part of me is grateful for not taking the risk. There's something to be said about living in the moment, without the weight of countless lives bearing down our shoulders. For once it feels like it's really just us. Damn. How did we even get here?
"Dunno about that. There's plenty of rations in here, so food's covered. We still have that wine you brought up, so we're set there. I still have the extranet, some ships to build, and Hambo, so entertainment's covered," she says, pointing at the deplorable rodent she purchased on impulse.
"You realize you can't eat on rations and wine alone," I say dryly. "Besides, we still need to oversee repairs, do a final walkthrough, and–"
"Alright, I know." She waves me off. "No rest for the wicked, I get it." She climbs out of bed and starts to look for her clothes. I reach for her wrist and pull her back to the bed.
"You just said–"
"I know." I grin at her. "Doesn't matter."
She rolls her eyes and grins back at me. "Insubordinate ass."
"You love it."
And the way she looks at me now, the weight of what I said hits me. We more or less discussed what we were, but not what we're becoming. And now I'm worried all over again about whether I've crossed another invisible human line or if I've offended or…
And she touches her forehead to mine. Oh.
"Maybe I do," she says, sliding her hands behind my neck. I groan appreciatively. If she keeps going, then we're definitely not going to leave anytime soon.
"Commander, I've got a priority message coming in for you," Joker announces over the comm.
"And just like that, it's back on the clock," Shepard grumbles. "Who is it this time?"
"…Alliance HQ."
Two words. Two words and she gets those damn dead eyes. And logically I know it's only seconds, but those seconds stretch out like an event horizon. Dammit.
"Patch it through," she says, all voice and no emotion. She looks at me briefly, apologetically, then touches my hand and heads toward her desk. There's static interfering, obvious since we're trying to repair the damn ship. By the time EDI cleans up the signal, and I hear Shepard say the words 'Admiral Hackett,' I'm out the door.
It's about three and a half days later that I see her off on whatever errand Hackett requested. Alone, which is unusual for her, even considering the changes I've seen over this past year. The only times she'd done this was for Zanethu, and just recently Alchera.
She'd taken the shuttle while we were dry-docked, face stony when she left and even more emotionless when she came back.
"Hey. How'd it go?" I ask.
"Eh, you know. The usual. Sad as hell. Cold. Perfect little place for a morgue."
I remember her dropping her old helmet on her desk along with a scattered array of dog tags. She didn't talk about it for the rest of the night, and gave no hint of wanting to. She just stared into the glass of wine she held, biotics flickering sporadically.
I'd taken to chatting with Joker during her absence, both of us filling the void between waiting on her and pointedly not speculating about the message from the Alliance. Deep down we know there's something more to the 'pick-up' she mentioned. We realized that when the hours turned into a day, when Miranda paced through the CIC on day two, and when Tali snapped at the engineers about twenty minutes ago.
Joker and I are both on the bridge when we hear her voice over the comm, steady but edging on panic.
"Shepard to Normandy. Joker, do you read me?" she shouts through the crackle.
"Loud and clear, Commander." Joker turns to the blue avatar. "EDI, clean this up, wouldja?"
"We need to get out of this system ASAP," Shepard continues. "Sending my location for pick-up."
"Roger that, Commander." Joker updates the navigation on his console, then glances at me puzzled. "What the hell is she doing out there?"
"What do you mean?" I peer over his shoulder. She's in the asteroid belt, dangerously close to the relay.
"Guess that explains the radio silence," he mutters.
"No. It doesn't," I say flatly. "What the hell was she up to?"
We gun it for the asteroid belt, and if I hadn't already appreciated the man's flying skills from Ilos or the Omega 4 entry, I would've been impressed now. Asteroid belts are always a pain to maneuver through, but with the way he shifts with ease, I'd never know the difference.
Before long we find the distress signal, and close in on a small facility.
"It's moving out of orbit," Joker comments. "Shepard, Normandy inbound for pick-up."
"Roger that," we hear over the comm.
Minutes later she storms through the airlock, snatching off her helmet in the process. "Joker, get us out get us out get us out!" she shouts.
She rushes through the CIC only to stand at the galaxy map, face screwed tight in an expression I've never seen her wear. We jump through the relay, but she doesn't look relieved. As I approach her, she looks up briefly but it's clear it's not really me she's looking at.
When I look down, the system we departed from glows red on the screen, then goes dark.
Shepard
Three hundred thousand. More than that, really. Three hundred and four thousand, nine hundred and forty-two. And even then, more than that. No one ever counts the slaves when it comes to batarians. They didn't count them for Torfan, and I doubt there's an updated census on them now.
Oh wait, there is.
Zero.
As usual, a 'simple' mission had a way of going tits up. It was a feeling I couldn't shake off ever since I got the call from Hackett. God love the man, but Christ does he send me into some shit. If he only knew then what he was asking of me…
And on top of that I had to kill the very person I was supposed to rescue. His friend.
One more to the tally I guess.
There's not even a rock and a hard place in this scenario. The rock is the imminent Reaper threat I can only pray I delayed, and the hard place is setting off yet another fucking galactic incident with the batarians. As if we need a damn war. No, the hard place is living through another round of avoiding press, hiding behind rank, silent stares from my mom.
No, the hard place is that I need the Alliance again, now more than ever.
The hard place is that maybe Kaidan was right about some of the things he said back on Horizon.
I sit in the medbay, feet dangling off the raised table. It makes me feel so nostalgically child-like, waiting for Chakwas' verdict on exactly how crazy I am this time. Waiting for whatever's worse than a court-martial, if I'm even tried as Alliance anymore. Waiting's always been the worst part.
I hear the familiar hiss of the sliding doors. Finally. Dr. Chakwas slips in briefly conversing quietly with Hackett. Softly enough that I can't make out everything, but my augmented hearing picks up on 'stressed,' 'capable,' 'Reapers.'
She then glances at me, same sad world-weary eyes, and exits the medbay. Leaving me alone with Hackett.
At the end of the day, there's only four people in the Alliance that can scare the shit out of me to the point that I see God. My mom always took the first slot; nothing like a dress-down from hell while she disassembles a Lancer. Anderson was a no-brainer; hell I still idolize the man. But now?
Now the other two people are right in this room.
The man cuts a figure as sharp as his blue-eyed stare. He's seen his fair share of fights. No admiral hasn't, but he wears his fights clear as day from the way he walks, light but fierce like a bird of prey. From the way his scar cuts across his lip and cheek, making even a smile seem dangerous. And from the tired concerned look on his face when he takes me in. A different kind of fight entirely.
"Looks like you recovered," he says, not unkindly.
"Admiral Hackett," I stand, saluting.
"At ease, Shepard. It sounds like you went through hell down there. How are you feeling?"
Like a bag of smashed asshole if you're looking for honesty.
"Fine. No lingering effects from the Rho device if that's what you mean." I give him a level look. "I wasn't expecting to debrief here."
"I owed at least that," he replies wearily. "At least that was my thought before the mass relay exploded and took out an entire batarian system. What the hell happened down there?" he asks, glaring at me.
I wince inwardly at his change in tone.
"Because all I know," he continues, "I sent you out there to covertly get Amanda Kenson out of batarian custody, and now an entire mass relay is destroyed. Can you fill in the leap of logic there?"
I sigh and steel myself. "Taking out the relay was Kenson's original plan. Destroying it would delay the Reapers. That was before indoctrination took hold. By the time I got to her, she said the Reapers were our salvation. She captured me, sedated me. When I escaped, she wasn't willing to stop the invasion. I was."
"That's… a damn shame." He sighs and looks at the datapad I supplied him. "And you believe the Reaper threat was imminent?"
"I never stopped believing that," I reply tersely. "But… in this case, yes. Their data on the 'Project Rho' device looked sound. Their intel suggested that we only had minutes to spare."
"Then you did what you had to do. But Shepard." He frowns. "This doesn't look good. We don't want war with the batarians, not if what's in here is true." He holds up the datapad. "There's enough evidence here for a witchhunt, and with you as the prime suspect–"
"Then why send me?" I shout. "Why!? You know my record, they know what I've done. Sending me out there was a bigger act of war than anything Kenson was doing."
"Because I knew I could count on you," he says.
I hang my head and sigh. "Starting to find that hard to believe, sir."
"You can believe whatever you want. I've trusted you to get the job done before, and I trust you now. You're an exemplarity soldier. Always have been, always will be."
I still at that, and look at the admiral. "…Will be, sir?"
"Evidence against you is shoddy at best. But at the end of the day you will have to come back to Earth and face the music."
I begin to pace. What does he want from me? Probably the exact same thing Kaidan said before. Go back to the Alliance, turn myself in. Get tested for any Cerberus bugs or implants that I don't already know about. Mental testing. Christ I don't need this.
Except, I do need them. I know it. The Alliance needs to be ready even if I have to drag them kicking and screaming. So they also need me. But if he's saying what I think he's saying, then…
"So a scapegoat," I say bitterly. "Jesus, I know what's at stake, I get it. But what you're asking of me… it's bullshit, sir."
"What choice do you have, Commander?" Hackett asks, eyes narrowing. "If it were only up to me, you'd get a damn medal. But it's not."
As I stare him down, my mind flashes back to the tunnel networks on Torfan and the dozens of hearings afterward. To Darius, a minor negotiation mission turned sour as soon as 'bitch' flew out his mouth. To finding out later that Hackett wanted him gone. To the Reaper data gathered from the suicide mission. And then to a VS written in blood on a fellow Spectre's chestplate.
Not today.
"No," I say. "The only hearing I want any part of is how to defeat the Reapers. Anything else is a distraction." I grip the side of the table and try to concentrate. "The batarians will want blood. We can't give them that, but 'jailing' me is out of the question. We tell the Alliance the truth."
"What are you getting at?" he asks sharply.
I give the Admiral my thousand-yard stare. "Amanda Kenson, while admirable, planned and performed an act of terrorism in batarian space." A perverse, small smile passes my face. "You made the call for me to capture her so that she can be tried by the Alliance for her actions. I got there too late."
And just like that I can see the wheels turning in his head. He rubs his chin, eyes alternating between looking down at the datapad and giving me an undiscernible glare. He sets the datapad on the table and turns his back toward me.
"There's no footage from your suitcams that place you in the batarian prison," he says curtly. "You went directly to the facility set up on the asteroid. When you arrived, Kenson had already broken out of the prison."
At that he turns back to me, still giving me a hard unnerving look. "After all, they can't very well go back and fingerprint." He points at the datapad. "Make it so. I will expect you to be in your dress blues within a reasonable timeframe."
"Understood." I pick the datapad back up. "Admiral," I start. "If I may, I have a request."
"Name it."
I steel myself. "I want immunity for everyone on this vessel. Cerberus, ex-Alliance, all of them. They worked under my command on their own free will. It's the least I can do for them."
Warmth comes back in his eyes as he appraises my words. "I think we can manage that. I was more concerned with what we do with you in the meantime."
"Sir?"
"We've been getting your missions reports from Dr. T'soni, Commander. The Alliance hasn't been as idle as you think. While you were out there flying Cerberus colors, we've been mobilizing. We couldn't risk any leaks, so we left you in the dark. It felt wrong, but it was necessary." He lets a ghost of a smile cross his face as he reaches in his breast pocket. "But now that you've cut ties, I can say that you've got a role to play yet."
He pulls out a scratched, but polished pair of dog tags. The same ones I received after gaining Spectre status from the Council, a custom job since I was the first to earn the rank. The same ones I thought were lost forever, even when I searched for them on Alchera.
After all this time.
As he places them in my hand he says, "Come home, Shepard. That's an order."