Disclaimer: I do not own or make any claim to the Mass Effect universe or the characters contained in this story, all of which are owned by BioWare and Electronic Arts.
Redemption: Come What May
Chapter 8: ... Or Perhaps Pieces
The doctor responded quickly when Shepard finally woke up again, running through the standard battery of tests and questions before declaring that he was doing rather well. She also said that he had a visitor.
John had expected an Alliance Intelligence & Security Agent or, if he was abnormally lucky, his mum, if she had managed to get leave. What he was not expecting, however, was for a living legend to be his 'visitor'.
Commander David Anderson was one of the original N7's and gained 'hero' status during the First Contact War, when he was no more than twenty and a newly minted Second Lieutenant, due to his skill and leadership of his squad during operations that were pivotal in Shanxi's liberation. His actions in the twenty years since then had made him a legend, even though the details of most of those missions would never be made known. He was, to this day, held up as the paragon of the N program, the ideal that all prospective Special Forces Soldiers should be aiming for, and it was a running joke amongst the other N-schoolers that if he melted down all of his medals he could make a life-size statue of himself, with material to spare.
The tall, dark-skinned officer stepped into the room with an easy grace that only came from a unique type of confidence; a tested, hardened confidence in your own abilities. The harsher and more weathered lines of his face were the only thing that differentiated the man in front of him from the numerous vids and images he'd seen of him over the years, and as soon as he had overcome his shock, John whipped his hand up in a salute, trying to hide the grimace his still healing ribs caused.
"Easy Lieutenant, you're in no shape to worrying about saluting," Commander Anderson said, speaking in a smooth baritone, "hell, the doctors tell me you shouldn't even be alive. Considering all you went through on Akuze I'm not surprised; my marines couldn't believe you were still breathing when they found you."
Shepard let his arm return to the far more comfortable position by his side at the Commander's words.
"How are you feeling, son? I wanted to give you a chance to ask any questions you might have before Intel debriefs you. You've been out cold for nearly a week so I figured it couldn't hurt to let you get your bearings," The Commander said as he pulled up a chair near the bed and sat down.
Shepard was still trying to process that all this was happening but he managed to collect his wits enough to reply.
"Thank you Sir, that's very generous of you, Sir."
This seemed to amuse the Commander a little, if the quirked eyebrow and twitch of the lips was anything to go by.
"I suppose I should tell you now, you're on indefinite medical leave until you have been judged to have recovered sufficiently from your wounds yadda yadda, you know how it works. So for all intents and purposes, I'm not your superior officer at the moment, so you can drop the formality," he explained with a flippancy that surprised John almost as much as his actual presence. "Now, I imagine there are some questions you'd like to ask, so out with it."
The chance for answers overwhelmed Shepard's confusion and hesitance at talking to the man before him and before he realised what he was doing, the question had left his lips.
"What happened to the other Marines, and the rest of my squad?"
"I'm sorry son," Anderson said with a weary sigh that immediately confirmed John's worst fears, "but they are all dead or MIA, presumed KIA. You're the only one we found alive when we arrived at the colony."
"I see…" Shepard replied quietly, try (and failing) to take in the complete loss of the platoon. "And the crew of the Gallipoli?"
"Also dead or MIA, we haven't had a chance to do a proper accounting because of the threat that the Thresher Maws pose, but the ship is a total loss."
There was a long pause before Shepard spoke again.
"Sir, if I may, how am I…"
"How are you alive?" Shepard nodded, so the Commander continued, "I was leading the main force so when Intel relayed your update about the Thresher Maws. I prepped a couple of squads for rescue and recovery and your suit's telemetry led them to you. Their medic said you'd lost a lot of blood and that your vitals were all over the place. They managed to free you from the wreckage and stabilise your condition enough to get you back on the ship. They also recovered some of the bodies of the other marines and returned to the SSV Beijing. That was five days ago and now you're on Arcturus Station, in the Barton Medical Centre. The doctors say you're lucky to be alive, apparently you were hypovolemic after losing almost a litre of blood, your heart had been fibrillating and the shock from the damage to your body combined with the amount of Adrenaline they had to filter out…" Anderson shook his head in disbelief, "basically you should have been dead four times over, yet here you are."
That was a lot to take in, especially with everything else on top and John was feeling more than a little overwhelmed. Anderson must have sensed it as well as he stood to leave, but there was still one more thing John needed to ask.
"Sir, there's one more thing. Just before I lost consciousness I tried to reach one of my men, Corporal Toombs, but he was killed before I could get to him."
"I'm sorry to hear that…" Anderson began but Shepard kept speaking, his brow creased and voice flat.
"I reached out my hand for him, even though I knew I couldn't reach him. But then my hand…shimmered and my head and spine felt like it was on fire. I don't… I don't understand what it was."
The Commander's brow furrowed as he thought, looking almost as lost as John felt, before his eyes widened fractionally in a flash of recognition, which disappeared from his face just as quickly. After another moment's consideration, he turned back to Shepard.
"I don't know what that could be; maybe your eyes lost focus for a bit because of the stress or adrenaline? I'll ask the doctors, see if they know anything. If there's nothing else, I'll let you get back to recuperating."
"Nothing more, Sir. Thank you for filling me in."
Anderson nodded in reply and exited the room, leaving Shepard to his own thoughts.
At that point in time, the last thing Shepard wanted was to be left alone with his thoughts, but at the same time he knew he had to face them eventually.
That knowledge didn't help him deal with the flood of memories, questions and hypothetical scenarios that rushed to the front of his mind as soon as he let his guard down, however. He lay in the hospital bed, his good eye squeezed shut and his face contorted in pain at the mental anguish he was suffering at the hands of the accusing memories.
As far as medical science had advanced since the discovery of the Prothean Archive on Mars, there wasn't a pain killer in the galaxy that worked on psychological pain. Shepard couldn't escape being trapped by his own thoughts as he slowly began to heal and recover, with only the occasional check-up or visit to give him something to distract himself with. In between those times he tried to regain control of his mind, trying to comprehend the twist of fate that had left him alive but the rest of his platoon dead.
He rarely succeeded.
Commander Anderson watched the young Lieutenant through the window to his room as his face grimaced in pain, which caused his wounds to flare up, which only served to further increase his pain.
Shepard had been kept under observation for two weeks, though he was physically healthy enough to be released. He was being kept under observation for his mental health, due to the incredibly stressful nature of the events of Akuze; and what they had seen did not bode well.
He was showing many of the classic symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; nightmares, hypervigilance, Survivor's Guilt, flash-backs.
Anderson hated seeing soldiers lost to their own minds; he'd seen too many good men and women survive harrowing battles only to lose the fight with the enemy in their own head as the pain and trauma of their experiences overwhelmed them. He didn't want to lose this one too, but in the end it all came down to the Lieutenant.
He took another look over Shepard's service history; it wasn't long, having signed up with the Marines only eighteen months ago, but what was there was impressive. Before even being admitted, he had a string of recommendations from marines aboard ships he had lived on while his Mother was on duty. He had graduated top of his class from Officer Candidacy and was granted the rank of 1st Lieutenant. He immediately enrolled in the Special Forces or 'N' vocational line and again showed himself to be quite capable, completing the N2 course and graduating third, which earned him an instant N3 commendation, in which he was due to partake in a month's time. He had been in combat twice prior to Akuze; one had been a small skirmish with a raiding party in the Skyllian Verge while the other had been Operation Sonic, a coordinated simultaneous raid on six known pirate bases inside Alliance Space. There were no casualties reported for any of the men under his command and both missions had been highly successful.
In short, Shepard showed some impressive potential, but it would all be irrelevant if he couldn't overcome his newly diagnosed PTSD. Silently hoping that this one wouldn't go the same way as so many before him, Anderson entered the room once more.
"Good news Lieutenant, the doctors say you're healed up and ready to go…" Anderson began.
"But?" Shepard said, catching the trailing edge of the half statement.
"…But there's a complication. Physically you're fine; you should only have some light scarring and your vision shouldn't be affected. Mentally however, they're concerned about you. You've been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and that leaves us in a difficult position. The Alliance can't have marines who might be a liability in combat and PTSD can very easily turn into a liability. Now, the Alliance has a program to rehabilitate soldiers affected by PTSD and it can generally be managed almost completely now days, but they will also allow individuals back into the marines if they can show that they have a hold on their condition. You have a choice before you now Lieutenant, and neither is an easy road. I'll leave you alone to make your decision, but you'll be released in two days' time and I need to know by then."
Still watching the Lieutenant, Anderson stood up and placed a data pad containing the information about both decisions on the bedside table, before leaving the room.
John picked up the pad and skimmed over the information. He could hardly argue with diagnosis, the information given practically read like a summary of his mental state for the last two weeks.
Reading further, he found the information regarding the Alliance funded rehabilitation. In short it involved an honourable discharge, a respectable pension and being set up on a colony world somewhere with regular support for his condition, but he would be unable to re-join the Alliance. Overall, it sounded pretty good really, but Shepard couldn't help but wonder what he'd do with the rest of his life. Apparently PTSD can be effectively managed to the point where it is almost a non-issue in everyday life, but being a marine was all that Shepard had ever planned for. If he went this route he would have given up on his dream career before he was even twenty!
That left the other option, controlling his condition and getting back to business as quickly as possible. It seemed that a significant number of marines currently in service, particularly in the Special Forces programs, had some sort of traumatic psychological event that had affected them, but they had been accepted back because they showed it could be controlled. It would be a more difficult road, and if he couldn't control it he ran the risk of being dishonourably discharged, getting none of the benefits or help that the rehabilitation provided, but he could keep being a soldier if he succeeded and he could stop things like Akuze happening again.
It wasn't much of a decision really, he was not going to waste this chance that had been provided to him; no one else would go through what he had if it could be helped.
[AN: What's this, an update?!
Yes, it's true, I've started writing again after far to long a break caused by various factors.
Really, I have no real excuse or explanation to give, so I will simply state that I am going to finish all of my stories, eventually, one way or the other. /AN]