Shepard paced across the debriefing room.
He was playing the events of Noveria over and over in his mind. Everything had went to shit. Liara was barely conscious now, sitting in her room in the back of a medbay with Alenko force-feeding her power bars and juice boxes to get her strength up. He shouldn't have brought her along. Not until he was sure of how much she could take. He asked too much of her, pushed her too hard. And now Williams…
His hand came down hard on one of the comm panels. His knuckles cracked and split, blood pooling up. He had failed them.
"Uh, Commander? Did you want to reconnect to the Council?" Joker asked with a nervous chuckle over the intercom, obviously having been alerted to his violent activation of the communicator. Shepard pulled his hand away from the controls.
"No, Joker." He sighed. "Sorry." He grunted out, striding from the room without another word. His check-in with the council had been brief. He couldn't focus on their questions while Williams was injured on the deck below. When Councilor Sparatus had commented on the stupidity of his decision to free the rachni, he had simply cut the line. He couldn't deal with their shit right now.
Shepard made his way quickly down the stairs, not stopping to even make eye contact with the crewmembers he passed. He had to make sure she was still okay. He should be the one in her place. He hadn't covered her well enough. He let that fucking bug get to her. Carrying her back to the Normandy, smelling the rot on her leg and watching her face screw up in pain as her body began to shiver… He wasn't about to let her die. He wouldn't lose another one.
He stepped through the doors into the medbay, taking in the scene before him. Ashley was unconscious, her armor stripped off in a pile on the next bed. She was wearing only the casuals she must have had on beneath. Her right pant leg had been cut off below her hip. Her thigh was covered in angry red lines, the skin burned away. In some places, it looked as if her flesh had come away with her armor, leaving bloody, skinless patches.
Dr. Chakwas was carefully placing layers of thin tissue over the wound. She looked up in surprise. "Commander? I told you I'd let you know when she recovered. Can I help you with something?"
"I just…" Shepard walked closer to the woman's bedside. Her face was peaceful, the earlier pain on it forgotten. He fixed his tone to something cooler. "She's okay?"
"I told you before, her armor took the worst of it. The wound isn't deep, and I'll be able to repair the more serious damage with skin grafts." She looked back to her work. "I'm rather good at what I do, you know. Chief Williams will make a full recovery, and be fit for duty before the end of the week."
Shepard slumped, sitting on a nearby bed. "Good…" He muttered, exhaustion hitting him. He continued to watch the doctor work, a hand running through his hair. "That's good."
"Commander, is there something else wrong?" Dr. Chakwas asked after a little while. "I don't usually have anyone hovering over me while I do stitches."
"What?" Shepard looked up at her quickly, pulling his gaze away from Ashley's face. "Oh, no. Sorry, doc." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. The motion wasn't missed by the doctor.
"What did you do to your hand, Commander?" Chakwas tsked scoldingly, fixing him with a maternal glare. "I swear, you're not happy unless you get hurt along with everyone else."
"What? But I – "
"I won't hear it. Just because Captain Anderson isn't here, doesn't mean I'll put up with those shenanigans." The doctor continued, her eyes boring into his. "And if I hear you bloodied your fist on someone else's face, I swear he will be the first I call."
"What! I didn't – "
"Good. Then get comfortable. I'll clean you up once I'm finished with her."
Shepard's eyes were huge as he gaped at the doctor. He was at a complete loss for words. He felt entirely too much like a two-year-old being scolded for throwing another tantrum. Instead, he sat back in bed as she suggested.
"How long will she be out?" He finally asked, feeling a long enough period of time had passed since his chastisement.
"Hmm? Oh, not long. I only gave her a mild sedative and some local analgesics to numb the pain. She should be waking soon." The doctor tied off a final stitch, then covered the wound with a fresh bandage. "There, that's that. Your turn, Commander."
"I really don't think –"
"No. You're leading this mission. We need all of your limbs at full functionality." She really did know how to cut him off. Shepard frowned and held out his hand in defeat.
"It doesn't seem to be broken, thankfully, but you probably bruised the bone well enough." She said unsympathetically as she prodded at his knuckles. He winced. "We'll splint these two together at least overnight to be safe." She began less than gently cleaning off the cuts on his split fist.
His ears perked to a groan from the next bed. "Ugh. Damn." Ashley groaned, her hand coming to her thigh to inspect the damage as she tried to sit up. "Oh, good, I still have it." She murmured, apparently grateful no one had removed her leg while she was out. She started to roll towards the edge of the bed.
"Oh, no you don't. You're not to get up until I'm sure you'll stay off that leg."
"What? But I'm fine…" She trailed off, realizing she wasn't alone with the doctor. "Commander?"
"How are you feeling?" He asked coolly, Chakwas continuing to address his hand.
"I'm fine. Legs messed up, but it doesn't feel too bad." The doctor chose that moment to make him wince again, wrapping his third finger to his pinky. "Were you hurt? I don't remember much after that bug flung it's snot at me."
"No, I'm fine. Just… fell." He said lamely. "You did a hell of a thing today pulling Liara out. Good work."
"Oh, uh. Thanks, Commander." Shepard could swear she was blushing as she looked away. They sat silently for a few moments. Dr. Chakwas finished up with his hand and left with a nod. "Listen, I know you don't like us questioning your decisions, but I need to know. Why did you let that queen go? She's going to be trouble, sir."
Shepard sighed. The soldier really did know how to get straight to the point. "She was an innocent. I couldn't kill her for her potential."
"Her potential is to spawn thousands of acid-spitting megabugs!" Ashley said incredulously.
"Which will be innocent until they choose to kill. I can't start condemning everyone I come across just because they might screw me over in the future. Everyone might. Most do." He sighed, his uninjured hand coming up to pinch his brow. "Believe me, it went against my better judgment to let her go."
"Then why did you?"
"Because I have to believe in forgiveness." The words left him before he realized it.
The woman was silent, her look questioning, but he chose not to enlighten her further. Instead he stood up, taking a few steps towards the door. He stopped, his mouth opening again before he could stop it. "Ashley?"
Her brows shot up as she gaped at his use of her first name.
"I'm glad you're okay." He walked quickly out of the medbay and to his own cabin, dimming the lights and hitting his bed with a thump, not bothering to change into his night clothes. What the hell, Shepard?
The woman had looked as surprised as he felt at his show of concern. He didn't act like this around members of his squad. He kept them separate, not close enough to get to him. Not close enough to care about. But she was so… pushy. She questioned every decision he made, dug at him to know the reasoning behind his answers. She didn't bullshit her way through talking to him. She simply said what was on her mind, not giving two shits about what he might think about it. It was infuriating.
And enthralling.
Because he found he needed to know why she did it. Needed to question her, find her reasoning. He needed to know where she found her confidence, her strength. She was the only one besides Anderson that would meet his gaze and not look away.
He needed to know why.
Shepard drifted, exhausted, as his mind raced thinking of her and her intolerable, irresistible attitude.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Cassidy was on the ground. Blood poured from her stomach.
"Owen- Owen, oh my god, it hurts." She panted. Owen knelt beside her, pressing his hand on her wound.
"Found some runners." A voice grunted nearby.
"Shit, you shot the pretty one." Another guttural tone growled. "Now what am I supposed to do?"
"You can still have her, she'll be warm enough."
Stars flared in Owen's vision as he was hit with rage. He stood over Cassidy protectively, wasting no time as he hoisted the soldier's gun and fired at the approaching figures. One swore loudly and fell, grasping his shin.
"Shit, the little bastard's got a gun!"
"Get the fuck away from us!" Owen snarled. "You're not coming anywhere near her!"
One of them snorted a laugh. "Three on one, little human. And I'd say you're running out of clips."
Fuck. The batarian was right. He had fired too fast, wasted too much ammo. He wasn't sure what he had left. They took a few steps forwards. He shot, and missed. Fuck!
"Some sharpshooter, this one." A slaver chuckled.
"Stay away!" He snarled again. Cassidy let out a weak whimper behind him. He stepped back towards her. His foot slipped on a growing pool of blood. "Stay with me, Cass. We're going to get out of here." He took a deep breath, and shot again. This time, a batarian crumpled, a hole through his neck.
"Damn, Burek… Boss isn't going to be happy about that." One of the others grumbled, not sounding all too disappointed by his companion's death. He started to back off, and Owen pulled the trigger again. Nothing happened. "Seems like you're out of luck, little human."
No! "Cass, come on, we have to run!" Owen cried, turning around. Her blue eyes were closed. Blood had soaked into her blonde hair, turning the ends a rusty brown. "No…" Not like this. We're going to get out of here. I'm going to get you out of here. "Cass, come on!" He shook the girl, kneeling beside her. He heard footsteps approaching. "Cass, please…" Tears welled in his eyes.
Something came down hard on his head, and his vision went black.
When he awoke, his hands and feet were bound. At least a hundred other colonists surrounded him, similarly tied up. He pulled at his ties and they cut into his wrists. This isn't happening. This can't happen. I'm going to get out of here.
Owen looked up, searching the crowd. Batarians wandered the outskirts, discussing something, weaving into the mass of humans occasionally to sort one or two into different groups. Bodies were piled in the distance as they were outside the barn. The smell of burning flesh was thick in the air.
"Owen?" A familiar deep voice sounded to his left. He spun around. "Oh, Owen, thank God…" His father's green eyes met his. "I thought they had you."
"Dad?" Owen's eyes grew wide. "Oh Dad, they killed her. They killed Cassidy. We tried to find all of you…" He choked back a sob, looking away. His father had scooted towards him awkwardly, the two then leaning against each other to stay seated up right. He rolled his head back to touch his son's in support.
"I know." He murmured simply. "I know. It'll be alright, son. We'll figure out a way out of this." His father's deep voice was reassuring. Owen nodded against him.
"Where's Mom? And Bryce?" He asked quietly. The lack of their presence foreboded badly.
"They…" The man's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. Owen had never heard his father cry. "They didn't make it. The monsters took Bryce to us to come quietly." He stopped, his back tensing against Owen's. "They're gone." They killed them anyways.
Owen felt the tears well up again, but he shook them away. He had to try to be strong, like his father. They would figure it all out once they got out of here. "I…" His voice squeaked out weakly, and he took a breath. "I think I was able to get a message out to the Alliance. We got into the outpost and found a soldier there. He…" Another breath. "He was dead, but I was able to send a message off from his omni-tool."
"Good. That's good news." There was pride in his father's voice. "That was smart thinking, Owen. I'm proud of you."
Owen said nothing, but leaned back against his father again. The man was sturdy, unbreakable. Everything was easier with him there. "I'm sorry I wasn't there today, Dad…" He choked. "I should have been there to help you."
"No, that wasn't your fault, Owen. Don't think any of this is your fault." The man said seriously. "These bastards are the only ones to blame. And if the Alliance gets your message, they'll get what's coming to them." It was dark around them. The only light flickered from the pyre. Owen felt the adrenaline draining from his body. He was exhausted.
"What are they doing, Dad?" He asked quietly, watching in horror as a group of terrified children was herded out.
"They keep sorting people." Owen looked around, realizing his father was right. They were in a group of men. The women were grouped a little ways away. He couldn't see any children. "I don't know what they do with those kids." His father growled, disgusted.
He realized with a start there were no elderly people. Everyone was middle-aged or younger. "They only want young people?"
"They only want healthy people. They've murdered a few people who were sick, too." His father said sadly. They sat in silence for a moment.
"How are we going to make it out, Dad? There's so many…" Owen trailed off, eyes grazing over the patrolling slavers.
"We'll find a way. Look for an opening. We'll have to work on our binds, maybe find something we can use as a weapon…" His father's voice trailed off. "But we need to be careful. No stupid risks. We'll get out of here, Owen, don't worry. No matter what, the Alliance won't stand for one of their colonies being hit. They'll come for us." His father tensed against him.
Owen tried to look over his shoulder as his father went silent. He heard footsteps approaching. A batarian was staring down at his father, his father no doubt glaring right back.
"What about this one?"
"No, implants won't take. He's too old."
"Too bad, looks strong." A grunt was the only reply.
The two slavers began walking past before one stopped. "And him?"
They approached Owen, sizing the teenager up. One narrowed his four eyes appraisingly.
"He'll do. Looks like he'll be big too. Load him up." A grunt, and a batarian hand was reaching for him. His father snarled.
"No! Don't touch him, you fucking monster!" The man struggled against his binds behind him. The batarians partner moved towards Owen's father quickly. "You can't have him! You son of a bitch, that's my boy! Get away from him!"
Owen struggled as he was hoisted up. "Dad! Shit, Dad, what do I do?" He cried helplessly, trying to flail out at his captor.
"I'll get you back, Owen! I promise, I'll find you!"
A boot kicked his father's face. The batarian standing over him pulled out his gun. His father looked up, his anger not fading. "Fuck you." He spat up at the slaver, mouth bloody. Owen managed to wiggle out of the batarian's grasp, but simply fell forward on his stomach. He looked into his father's green eyes.
A shot fired, and the light left them.