A/N: So the Normandy Crash Site is a pretty depressing DLC, and one that I adore. It opens up a lot of time for reminiscing, and thinking about the old game and it's also pretty sad for Shepard. So, naturally, I wanted to make a chapter about it. I figured that leaving the last chapter on a somber note called for another louder and longer somber note. As always, the characters and plot of the story and (in this case) DLC belong to BioWare, as does some of the dialogue. However, most of it and the conditions in this chapter came from me. Thanks again for reading! Please enjoy and rate and/or review.
A special thanks to BenRG, who had said Mordin probably loves to hassle Miranda, and that by the end of his life, he would have no doubt grayed her hair before its time. I laughed so hard, and it worked as the perfect opening scene! Thank you!
"Commander?"
Shepard looked up from the galaxy map in front of her, removing the ice packet from her head. Mordin had, for the better part of the day, been hassling Miranda about sediment samples she'd picked up in the past two years while investigating the Collectors. He was insisting Cerberus had missed something, something that could be crucial to the mission. Miranda argued with him every step of the way; she couldn't get the samples because they weren't hers to give, she didn't know where they were, she didn't have the proper access. She hurled any excuse she had at Mordin, who shot each one down, insisting she was wrong. She'd eventually gotten fed up and hurled a paperweight about the size of an egg and the weight of her M-6 off her desk. The small, biotic-ed weapon had missed Mordin (he'd simply leaned out of the way) and had instead clipped Shepard on her left temple, who had the misfortune of choosing that moment to deliver a mission report to forward to the Illusive Man. Their arguing had given her a headache from the get-go, and the violent end of it had made it nine times worse.
Mordin had escorted her across the small "mess hall" and into Chakwas office.
"I don't understand why she wouldn't want them double checked," she murmured to Mordin sympathetically. "I could try and convince her. I doubt she'd throw a paperweight at me...on purpose."
Mordin shrugged. "Could try. Would be useless; sediment samples were checked thoroughly by Cerberus. Providing very valuable data, actually."
Shepard had stared at Mordin for a very long time. It was a very long way to go, and a very complex argument he had, to have gone through all that for a freaking prank. "You're joking."
Mordin just smiled. "Was joking. Quite serious now. Did need more documentation of said samples, just to double check. Decided after asking for the first time that samples were a better option. Weren't really needed, could have done research without anything else. Work is good, but wasn't...great. Rather have work as thoroughly researched as possible, less mistakes that way. Sample data was fine, provided enough information, but to look at a sample...still, wasn't needed. Though - "
"So you just needed more documentation. And then you noticed she'd gotten flustered and decided to prod her about the actual samples rather than just get what you came for?" she sighed. "I'll get them from her. Don't...go through that much if you need something from Miranda. She works much better when you don't beat around the bush, especially when you're just joking."
He'd smiled and thanked her. After Chakwas had handed her an ice pack for her head ache and a few aspirin, Shepard had gone back up to the CIC and waited for Joker to announce the thirty minute mark to the Mass Relay.
"Commander," Yeoman Kelly prodded. "You have a message at your private terminal."
"Thanks," she huffed, moving toward the screen on her far left. Kelly gave her a concerned frown, her eyes flicking to the compress in her hand. Shepard chuckled in spite herself. "Don't ever intervene when it comes to a fight between Miranda and some other shmuck, Yeoman," was all she said.
Kelly giggled. "With all respect to Miss Lawson, she isn't someone I would want to be around angry. Thank you, Commander."
The screen glowed to life. The message had already popped up, and the carrier...
She scanned the name with an urgency that was nearly palpable. She wasn't quite sure she'd read it correctly, even as she scanned the snake over tot the ten time. Admiral Hacket couldn't - shouldn't - be contacting her for any reason. He hated Cerberus as much as she did. They fact that she was now working with them had indeed felt like she was betraying him. She hadn't expected any sort of letter like she'd gotten from Anderson - not that he was the type of man to go out of his way to ignore someone he "didn't like." She just hand't expected news of her survival and alliance with Cerberus to make it to his desk.
"I'm taking this upstairs. Miranda had the deck."
The ride seemed to take an hour, and many scenarios played out in her mind. Was it something urgent? Was it information? What if he was updating her on the whereabouts of Alenko? That thought made her heart skip a beat.
She missed him terribly. She had hoped that he'd have contacted her by now on a hunch that her survival had not been just a rumor. They'd been...close, closer than close. She had cared about him a great deal, but things change in two years. She was prepared for that. She just wanted to know he was safe and unharmed.
The elevator doors slid open and she rushed into her private chambers, opening the message before she could grab her chair to sit down and read it.
The contents were rather brief, offered her set of coordinates. She read it a few times, each time her blood feeling more and more like ice. It wasn't anything like she'd thought.
"EDI?" Shepard whispered.
"Commander?"
"Patch Joker to my cabin. He...he needs to hear this."
From: Admiral Hackett
Commander Shepard:
Our scans in the Amada system have turned up something we thought you should see: the final location of the wreckage of the SSV Normandy.
We thought this news might be important to you, but we also have an ulterior motive. The Alliance would like to honor the Normandy with a monument, to be built on the site of the ship's final resting place. We'd like to invite you to place the monument and be the first to walk on the site.
There are still 20 crew members unaccounted for from the attack on the Normandy. If you find any signs of these lost crewmen, we ask that you report to the Alliance so that those heroes' families might find some closure.
Godspeed to you, Commander.
Alchera was cold, and quiet. A gravesite. It was like returning to your old house after it had burnt down. Every memory came to the surface, separating from the now like oil on water water. Two vastly different times. Two vastly different situations. Two vastly different Commanders.
She moved numbly, collecting was was left of the dead.
She had to admit she rather liked the turian, every since she'd met him arguing with Pallin about Saren. He was smart, and, unlike most turians, he followed his instincts rather than his orders. He was a bit hard to get along with at first, always trying to remain distant, but she assumed that was how he had to be, given his military and C-Sec training. One could never be too careful. But after the incident with Saleon, he started talk to her a bit more, taking more breaks between repairs and calibrating the MAKO. He'd been opening up a bit more, letting her know him on a personal level. It was progress. Which is why, after she'd spoken to Jeff about Ashley, she'd downed the rest of her rum infused tea and went to grab Garrus. He'd been awake since the day they'd went to Virmire, staring at screen after screen of EM diagnostics, running different maintenance formulas through the systems, and refining the thrusters. "If you aren't going to sleep, you should at least go sit down."
Garrus' face pinched in a frustrated expression, his mandibles twitching. "I really don't need a break, Commander."
Shepard sighed. "I know you don't. But you've run the same diagnostic five times. You're distracted, and looking at a screen with flashing numbers isn't something that can help you."
He stared at the Commander for a few minutes. Virmire had done a number on him. He felt just a guilty for Ashely as she did. Hell, it had hurt to be down in the same area she'd once occupied, even now. She'd sworn to herself she'd let it go until she could mourn her. She wasn't sure she'd be able to. Wrex had gone to rest, Tali was in the mess hall - she was still having a little trouble sleeping and Shepard had brought dextro alcohol strong enough to make her woozy and capable of rest. Liara had retired as soon as they'd gotten back from Virmire, exhausted from the latest joining. Kaiden was with Chakwas, getting tests done, making sure the L2 damage wasn't too great. The only one one the ship who hadn't settled down was Garrus.
"It's not healthy to stay down here. Especially alone." He didn't respond. "A few minutes won't kill you."
He cracked a small smile. "Shouldn't you be resting? I imagine Ash's death would weight pretty heavily on your shoulders, too." He paused, cursed under his breath, and revised. "Sorry. It...sorry, Commander"
She frowned at his tone. He sounded as tired as the rest of the crew. "Don't be. You aren't wrong. It does. Which is why Presley had the deck right now. You should come to the mess hall. I'm waiting for Doc to let Kaidan go, and Tali's already up there. We were gonna play a few rounds of poker before we get some shut eye."
"That sounds more like a celebration than a funer- OW!"
She punched his arm, a frustrated pout gracing her features. "I don't know how they do it on Palaven, but here, even when we're sad, we try to find ways to occupy the mind."
She dug into her pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. "A distraction would do you good, Vakarian. Maybe you could even beat me."
He rose to the challenge easily. "I know I could beat you, Shepard."
She laughed, and nodded toward the elevator. "Well then, put your credits where your mandibles are, Vakarain."
The lights were low, the blankets pulled over them, and she had been fast asleep. Kaidan's fidgeting was was woke her out of her blissful post-coital rest. She'd assumed he'd fallen into the same kind of slumber before her and that he would wake much later, probably an hour before they arrived on Ilos. He was like that; a well-oiled soldier, considerate, always pushing Shepard to do the right thing. It took someone who was willing to look past his professional exterior to see the smaller things. The way he stumbled over his words when he tried to explain something he was passionate about. The fact that when she called a meeting with the crew that he always looked a little disheveled like he'd just remembered and had to rush to get there. The way his eyes lit up when he let something borderline romantic "slip." The way his biotics flared up right before...she bit her lip and smiled a bit. It was time to wake up anyway.
He fidgeted again, and she let out a sleepy moan. "Not that I'm not thrilled to wake up next to you, but what the hell -"
"Shh! I have to concentrate. Hold on a second." His arm moved a bit and then settled around Renita's waist.
Kaidan lay behind her, his chin resting on her bare shoulder. She pressed her lips to his cheek. "I have to get to the deck, Kaidan, I have a job to do."
"I figured out something. Biotics with L2 implants have a neat effect on the things they hit," Kaidan said, ignoring Renita completely. She huffed in his arms as he continued. "The after effect of the biotics can do different things. For example, if I shot, say, your desk with a powerful biotic blast, there would still be an after effect that would cause the desk to glow slightly for a few minutes after the blast. The L2 implant allows the person to use biotics on this bit of 'light' so it can be manipulated further, into something really cool."
"You broke my desk?"
"Circumstantial. Check out what its sacrifice was for."
"I cannot believe you..." she trailed off. The whole room was filled with tiny balls of light, like fire flies. They glowed a warm white, and cast the area in a rather romantic mood lighting. It reminded her of the Citadel at "night", when artificial fireflies lit the surface of the water way in the Presidium. They pulsed a bit, each glowing ball a tiny heart beat. She sighed and settled onto his chest. "You broke my desk for mood lighting."
"But it was also in the name of...romance." He knew what he didn't say when he hesitated. And he knew she knew.
She laughed softly and nudged his hip with hers awkwardly. "Oh yeah, that makes it all better." She let her lips linger on his neck, felt him shudder around her. "And I'll admit, its...working."
"Are you certain it will work?" Tali asked, staring at her from across the table.
Shepard smiled. "I promise. It's already filtered and processed correctly, and its a dextro only brand. It's sold mainly to quarians, so you won't need to run as many tests on it." She reached out for Tali's wrist and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I know turning to alcohol isn't the best plan, but it's very strong. One shot should be enough for you to get tired."
She looked at Shepard and back toward the bottle. "You...bought this so I could sleep...through the silence? So I'll feel at home?"
She shrugged. "A ship is only as good as her crew. I know you're far from your fleet, and that going after a rouge Spectre with another Spectre is a bit intimidating. The last thing anyone needs is sleepless nights because our drive core is too damned quiet."
She started to stand up, as did Tali, still staring at the bottle. "If it doesn't work, we'll try something else."
She wasn't surprised that Tali hugged her. It was honestly an expected reaction from the young quarian. She squeezed Shepard's shoulders, and Shepard patted her on the back, a tad too stiffly.
"Thank you, Shepard," Tali whispered. "Thank you so much."
She wasn't good at chess. Renita had never been good at chess, no matter how much she'd been told it was just like suing military tactics on the field. This was a little black and beige board from hell, with cursed little pieces to move across it.
"It's really not that bad, skipper," Ashely said, though her voice was trembling badly, suppressing a laugh.
"Really, Commander," Laira pipped in. "You're getting better at it each time."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm supposed to be tracking down homicidal turian whose main agenda is gathering geth forces and starting a war. I don't have time to practice chess!"
"That's not true! Everyone need's a break, either mentally or physically."
"I'm not getting either," she mumbled as Liara moved a piece that put her king into check. She moved it forward, out of the pieces reach.
"Oh," Liara said, worrying at her lip. "Shepard, you...well..."
Ashely lost her cool. She'd kept herself in check for the last nine games, only making small, smart-ass comments through fits of poorly concealed giggles. Now she was laughing loudly, gripping Renita's left shoulder with her right hand.
"She's got you in checkmate, skipper!" Ash gasped, swiping at her eyes. "I don't know what's worse! The frustration on your face or the shock!" She trailed off into another fit of laughter, and this time, Liara joined her, her laugh a bit more hesitant. Shepard stared at the board, then at both Liara and Ash, feeling herself smile, and let out a short chuckle.
"Well, shit." She shrugged and gave herself over to the laughter bubbling in her chest. She sure as hell wasn't getting any worse.
She stared at him, unblinking, and he stared right back. They were standing by he MAKO, next to a huge dent in the side. Renita would admit her driving was atrocious. She hit too many bumps at the wrong speed, she had little to no control of it on a good day, and she'd even admit to flipping it over once. She caused scratches burns, busted tires, broken windows, and even a few, smaller dents in the past.
But this wasn't from her. Wrex had tripped on the last planet they'd detoured to. He'd never been the most graceful, but she sure as hell wasn't a klutz. His head had left a literal impression on the MAKO, as did his shoulder. Liara and Shepard had barely managed to move themselves into the tight quarters of the MAKO after that. She laughed so hard she had to put on the brakes, all the time telling Wrex, "It's not you, I swear I'm not laughing at you."
And now they were having a staring contest to see who took the blame. The dent wasn't going to pop out easily, they both knew that for a fact. So it was either pretend they never saw it, or let someone take the blame- and neither of them were good at acting. That left the latter. If Shepard blinked, she'd tell Garrus that she'd driven into the side of a cliff. If Wrex blinked, he would say he got angry at an enemy and headbutted the vehicle. They'd already shook on keeping it between themselves, Liara, and Joker (who had heard the conversation when they'd come back).
He huffed, bored, and the air hit her face in an unusually strong gust. She blinked involuntarily.
"Damnit!" she shouted, rubbing her dry eyes. "Damn you, that was cheating!"
"You never set the rule parameter, Shepard. You just said, 'whoever blinks first.' I never said I'd play fair."
She smiled at Wrex, who had taken one look at her red, watery eyes, and laughed uproariously. The bastard was too damn hard to stay mad at.
Steam curled around her face, the tea bag floating in the half hot water half rum. Her hands were curled around the plain mug, the light in the kitchen area the only one lit on the second floor. It was one of those rare nights where the crew got tired at the same time, the right time, around two in the morning if her clock in her quarters was correct. Everything was quiet, so incredibly quiet.
Usually the quiet time would be soothing. The last time it had been quiet, she'd just set foot on the ship. Everyone was still getting settled into the new spaced, and she'd wandered around the new Normandy, getting to know those who were still awake. She'd stayed in the undercroft of the engine room for awhile, getting used to it's warmth and small space. She had lay down in the Observatory room and stared into the vastness and emptiness of the universe.
Quiet nights were so fleeting in her line of work. Somebody always needed something done, someone always needed saving. She had a crew to run, a job to do, a cool, level-headedness she had to keep. She'd never complain about it; it was her favorite part. Right before a battle, right before they flew into the belly of the beast, she kept herself rooted and balanced and made sure she projected that to her crew. If they saw their commanding officer in a state of panic or nervousness, they'd feel nervous themselves. There was a part of Renita that loved having to keep them in their right mind, just by acting brave. knowing that they preformed their best because she hadn't scared the shit out of them by showing any turmoil she'd had inside. No, the only one who had seen her like that, truly in a state of despair and loss, had been Joker. And he knew how to handle her, how to make the situation, the worlds that had been settled upon her shoulders like some kind of modern-day Greek tragedy, bearable.
She hadn't gone to him this time. The crash of the Normandy SR-1 was something they simply couldn't talk about.
Alchera was quiet too. It was silent, and cold. The ground was covered in a snow-like substance and she left tracks where ever she went. Placing the monument was no big deal. It was seeing the damage and collecting the dog tags that damaged her. Her home...her home as a child had been a fleeting paradise, a place she barely remembered the name of. She never settled down, never tied herself to a permanent residence, just in case she had to be out of a certain area in a short amount of time. But the Normandy...it had been something. Sure, there had been tension of sorts. Not everyone had agreed that aliens on an Alliance ship was the smarted of moves. Not everyone liked that a quarian had been stationed in the engine room, no matter how smart she was. Not everyone agreed with having an asari archeologist help with the mission, nor an ex C-Sec officer to work on guns. Nobody liked having a krogan on board; it made them all nervous, and, at first, that had included Shepard. The rest of the human crew had been brilliant, brave, everything they had to be in order to stop Saren.
She wasn't sure why she'd felt the guilt that she had. It wasn't her fault that the ship had been attacked. It wasn't Joker's fault for flying the ship into that mess in the first place. No body could have planned for that kind of attack. She tried to think about everything from a logical standpoint. It was a freak incident, something premeditated - it had to be, had to be - on part of the Collectors, though she wasn't sure why. It wasn't anyone's fault. She had made damn sure that everyone was safely out of the Normandy by the time the final blast hit. She had made sure that, once the ship was was cleared as it was going to get, that she got Joker out too.
She couldn't help those who died in the blast. She had died making sure the living were safe.
That was how she should have thought about it. She had told others that people died for a reason, that sometimes one needed to be sacrificed for the cause on one billon; when you were a soldier, those were calls you had to make. Leaving a group behind to cover your flank because they told you to go.
Leaving behind a valued member of the team, a friend, because you could only save one.
Letting your ship get blown to shit because you had to make sure you quelled every little bit of geth activity in the galaxy, had to make sure your Specter status was worth something and goddamn it -
No, logic wouldn't work now. It hadn't with Ash because she had to choose.
It wouldn't work this time because she had held those dead twenty in the palm of her hand. When the burden of that had become too much, she'd worn half of them around her neck. She'd watch them glint in the barely there light on the planet's surface, silent voices crying out in agony as something they - she - hand't prepared for swooped and obliterated all that they had been.
She'd remained barely there, ghosting from chunk to chuck of debris, memories flashing through her clouded mind, what was left of her rationality trying desperately to shove them back, because that was then and this was now and she couldn't focus on what had been when "had been" was two years ago, when she had died, and because everyone changes what matters is their safe and their alive, you're alive -
Stop.
She tried, told herself to shut that shit down fast, that any sort of emotional reflection or collapse or whatever she'd been doing could very well compromise the mission.
She needed to focus. Even if she had held her own helmet in her hands. Corroded, melted, old, covered in smoke, empty. But she'd know that helmet anywhere. It was a shock, to put it lightly. It certainly put all the devastation - her death and the other twenty who died, the Collectors, her mission - in perspective. She'd stared at it for what felt like hours before she had tucked it under her arm and brought it on board with her.
She hadn't talked to Garrus, hadn't talked to Joker, Chakwas. She had decided at as bad as she felt, as surreal as it had been for her it might be worse for those who were not there. Regret could sully her mind anytime, but she needed her team level-headed, focused.
"Enough," she growled aloud, loud enough in the hush of the crews quarters. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, thankful for her lack of tears. She wasn't one for crying. She believed in the purging of emotion through other means, namely shooting and yes with alcohol. She'd finish her drink, she'd stop thinking about it. The SR-1 was gone, her Alliance days were gone, the Shepard from then -
"Enough," she told herself again.
"Who the hell are you talking to? It's only my second beer."
Renita's head snapped up and she nearly jumped out of her chair. Hot tea splashed onto her wrist and she sucked in a quiet breath.
"Relax, Shepard. I'm not a goddamn Husk," Zaeed gibed, grabbing a beer from the fridge. "Just came to get something to drink before I nod off."
She continued to stare at him. She and Zaeed hadn't spoken two word to each other since the incident with Vido a few days ago. She had assumed she would have his reluctant cooperation in exchange for a few months of stubborn silence. It wasn't a very heavy exchange, and she had better things to focus on.
"You scared the shit out of me," she sighed.
Zaeed shrugged. He wasn't decked in his usual uniform. He had a white undershirt on and pants. This was the first time she noticed his tattoos. "Who the hell were you talking to that time? Yourself again?"
"No," she snapped. "Why are you even up here? The whole damn ship is asleep, Zaeed. Christ, I think even Joker is catching some shut eye." She eyed the beer in his hand. "It's pretty late to be drinking isn't it, old man?"
"You're one to talk," she sneered, pulling out the seat from across her. "No one drinks coffee this late, unless it's laced with booze."
She snorted. "It's tea."
"Well la-dee-fuckin'-da," he retorted, sipping his own drink. "'Point is, it's only half tea. What's your poison then? Whiskey?"
"Rum," she shrugged. "It tastes better."
They sat in silence after that. It was the most she'd spoken to him in days, and whatever game he was playing, she was cautious. Renita knew the moment Vido disappeared behind those trees, Zaeed would never be loyal. She didn't think he'd resort to mutiny and jeopardize the hefty sum of credits - she still wasn't sure how hefty - the Illusive Man was throwing his way, but suddenly springing conversation on her, sitting across from her like an old friend? It threw her off, seemed suspicious and wrong. The silence between the two hadn't exactly been one-sided, true, but she hadn't thought he'd be the one to break it.
"Alchera s'not a lively planet is it?" Zaeed grumbled half-heartedly into his beer.
Mockery? More his style, she could deal with that. "It's none of you goddamned business."
"I'm sure it's not."
"So leave it alone."
"Oh? All I said was - "
"I know what you said, and I'm telling you not to say anything."
"Is that an order, Commander?"
"Massani, I'm warning you - "
"Did I tell you about the time I lost a whole group of my recruits in a shuttle crash?"
Rentia stopped short and stared in confused and shocked silence for a beat. "What?"
"Yeah. Tragic bunch, really. New recruits, all of 'em." He paused a second, glancing at Shepard, gauging whether or not he had her full attention. "Some were running from the law, most where kids though, looking for a fight. A lot of 'em comin' off the streets. Some of the recruits were older, been in and out of federal custody. Back then, that bastard Vido and I didn't care who we had, only that we were building something.
"So Vido was keeping some of the kids back, right? Mostly the adults, but a few kids, kept them back to take a shipment of Red Sand from some company. I, on the other hand, was in charge of the rest of those empty-headed kids. We were looking to take a weapons factory and laboratory. The coup wasn't a polished plan, but Vido and I agreed that who ever survived deserved to.
"The place was perfect. Planet was remote, air was breathable, it was hidden under these tall root-based plants. And when we went through with the plan, that was gonna be our home."
He was quiet for a moment. "It's funny, how you think that the people you work with are just pawns. And how at first, right, you don't really give two shits about 'em." He smiled to himself, and the Commander caught what looked to be nostalgia in it. "But the little shits grow on you, and you figure, hey, as long as they think you couldn't give a rats ass about 'em, you could care about them all you want.
"But anyway, we're bout ready to land. Shuttle one is a cluster fuck, everyone is excited and nervous and yammering on and on about how excited they are, you know, newbie shit." Shepard found her self nodding and smiling faintly. "Well, the other shuttle was flying close behind us, and I could hear over the com chatter it was the same fucking thing. Anyway, we're about a a half-mile from the drop zone, when this fuckin' biotic pip-squeak sneezes. He was an L2 implant, deserted the Alliance, and he had abso-fuckin-lutely no control over when these powers were gonna flare up and blast everything to shit. So he sneezed, yeah? And he knocked the driver out. And not unconscious; the blast sent him out the bloody fuckin' window. And then we go down.
"I remember trying to grab the controls and control the damned recruits. They were screaming and cursing and I didn't have the time to deal with it. Controls were naturally fucking destroyed. Helluva blast, really, should give the kid credit. Anyway, the shuttle swerves in the air, and hits the other one, the one right next to us. Explosion on contact. No one survived.
"So we crash, everyone is banged up, I'm crawling to of there on my hands and knees, coughing up blood and spit, and I hear the popping. Like when you catch a piece of hair on fire, but louder. So I start screaming for the kids to move, to get out of there. My ribs were bruised, so I couldn't do much more than stand and hobble over to the vehicle." He sighed. "It was a sharp bang, like a grenade. Whole thing in flames, everyone inside it screaming.
"Now i tried not to care about these kids, I really did. But like I said. They grow on you; it's like fuckin' mold. We didn't take the base. I took their losses hard. It felt like my fault. I could have helped more, done something. I don't expect you to understand it, but on the vids, when the reports were out about how a coup had failed and fifty three were dead, it hurt. Seeing it again, knowing that I had been there, that I could have done more, hell, it burnt me up inside."
She looked away from Zaeed. She knew the feeling.
"But it hit me one day. I was getting a drink and half-heartedly flirting with a young lady at the end of the bar when it hit me. I could't have planned for that shit. Fucking hell, I couldn't have fucking written it if I tried. It was a random act of this fucked up universe, and had I tried to prevent it, I'd probably fuck it up another way. Not to say it didn't sting, it did. It burnt like hell, still does. But I figured - "
"That just because the universe tells you one thing, doesn't mean its right?"
Zaeed smirked. "I was gonna say 'fuck it,' but I like yours better."
Her tea was forgotten and cold now. She stared at Zaeed for several minutes, watching his down the rest of his drink. He slowly got to his feet, cracked his neck, and went to toss the bottle. "Why tell me that?" she blurted.
"You're not going to sleep anytime soon, right?" he shrugged, heading in the direction of the elevator. "Food for thought."
"Did you know about Alchera?"
He snorted. "What about it? It's desolate, dark, and bloody cold. Why? Did you need to enlighten me on another riveting detail?"
She scowled. "Be thankful you're an investment. If I could, I'd break your other leg."
He smirked. "See you around, Shepard. Come see me if you need another war story."
And with that, she was alone once more.
It could have been fake, a lie because he did know what Alchera was. It could have been him; observant and shitty with keeping his mouth shut. It could have been the beer. But whatever it was, it sure as hell made her feel a little less than was she had.
He had been right. Fuck it.
It may be her fault, the names she collected could curse her for the rest of their eternity. And she would always have to live with that. But it was something she'd have to carry with her until she died herself. She'd stick the SR-1 around her neck and wear it like a dog tag, proud and showing it to all. A scar, a mark she'd bear forever.
She dumped her own drink down the drain and disposed of the tea bag.
Enough was enough. She had shit to do.