Author's Note: Please be aware that this section of the chapter contains some body horror and may not be appropriate for sensitive readers.
The sounds of the driving rain, the lapping waves, and the creaking of the metal barge were all swallowed away to nothing the instant the Triton mech hit the dark water. It began its descent into the bleak, murky depths in muffled near-silence, the hefty machine sinking steadily downward as what little light filtered in from the melancholy sky began to grow fainter and fainter through the churning surface of the waves. Even so close to the surface, the water was bitter cold, and Shepard quickly found herself having to pass a hand across the foggy inside of the mech's hull in an effort to clear a swath of glass for her to better see where she was going. Vague, hulking forms loomed out at her from the darkness of the ocean depths, undiscernible even with the help of the floodlights beaming out from the Triton. The helpfulness of the light was short-lived, however, as, barely halfway through her descent, the bulb suddenly began to flicker, before blowing out completely, leaving her in total, crushing darkness as the mech continued to sink the rest of the way to the ocean floor.
The reinforced feet of the Triton hit the rocky ocean bottom with a deep, reverberating booming sound, the bulky bearings of the mech causing the nearby ground to shake momentarily under its mass. The shock resistant design of the mech absorbed most of the jarring impact, but it still shook Shepard around a bit in her seat, causing her to grit her teeth against the sudden, unsettling sensation of weight after such a long drop. A cascade of bubbles fizzled up past the cockpit as it settled, flittering into the dark sea above before vanishing into the water again, and Shepard aimed her flare launcher, shooting the first lit beacon into the crevice of a rock formation to her left, illuminating the path ahead a short ways. By the light of the flare, she could just make out the blurry outlines of luminescent jellyfish-type creatures floating serenely some ways away from her, and as she took her first heavy, wary step forward into the light, she bit her lip, watching as the text scrolling jerkily down the projected display screen flickered, giving off sharp, strained noises every time it updated another line.
"Not sure if you can read me up there," Shepard reported, looking around again before taking another uncertain step into the pool of light thrown by the flare. "Looks like I've finished the major descent. Can't see much from here." Turning her head, she looked up at a large, looming wall of seaweed waving ominously over her shoulder, before frowning and taking a small step away from it, not wanting to chance any stray tendrils getting caught in the suit and messing with the controls somehow. "Suit is… holding up," she added, reasonably, turning her attention back towards the path ahead. "Emergency systems have come online. Life support… operational." Satisfied with her initial report, she took another hefty step forward, hearing the jarring sound of the Triton creaking around her as it pushed its way through the pressurized water and along the lighted rock path. As she moved past the illuminated jellyfish, they drifted slowly upward, and now that she could see them up close, she was surprised to realize that they were at least twice the size she had originally thought them to be – giant, hovering, bioluminescent titans, hardly deigning to be bothered despite the large metal construct that was making its bulky way towards them.
"Scanner indicates the probe is below my position," Shepard informed the shore party, hoping she was not merely reporting into dead space as the readings on the screen flickered again, uncertainly. "Looking for a way down." Reaching the edge of a rock outcropping, she craned her neck, peering over into the darkness, but when she could not see all the way to the bottom, she fired a flare into the abyss, watching as it lodged itself snugly into the dirt beside another, smaller rock formation, about twenty feet below her current position. Stepping warily off the edge of the ledge, Shepard allowed her vehicle to freefall steadily downward, landing with a much less jarring thud this time, but her attention was quickly drawn instead to the display screen, which had started to flash and beep, indicating that something needed her attention, though she could not figure out from the display screen what it was. "Shutting down all non-critical systems to preserve remaining power," she said, hoping that would solve the issue, whatever it was. "Not sure how much juice the emergency thruster will need to get me back to the surface. Not worrying about that now."
Just as she had predicted, as soon as she shut off the non-vital systems of the Triton, the beeping instantly stopped, the display screen flickering once before beginning to scroll steadily again, telling her where to go. Shepard turned, making her way past the most recent flare as she looked around to see what she could make out on this newer, lower level of the ocean floor. Firing another flare into the blackness, she continued moving forward down the path, noting the ocean growing dimmer and darker the further she got away from her original access point. "Getting some strange readings from the probe," she reported, looking over to one side to see if something else could have been interfering with the readings, but, seeing nothing, she returned her attention to the path ahead, firing another flare as she moved further on ahead. Reaching the edge of another rock outcropping, she stared out over the yawning dropoff, noting that only one of the giant jellyfish was apparently brave enough to linger at this dim and murky depth. As she stared out over the ledge, the display screen gave another sharp flicker, before the text began to scroll excitedly, notifying her that something had changed.
"Something is definitely down there," Shepard breathed, anxious and intrigued. Firing another flare down into the darkness, she followed it quickly off the ledge, landing with an unsettling thud on the ocean floor below her, causing another stream of bubbles to hiss up past her cockpit before disappearing into the ocean depths. She followed this new string of fired flares to another rock outcropping, but this one seemed to go on much further than any of the others had. Bubbles and odd-looking currents of water that almost looked like steam wafted out of the hole, dissipating into the open ocean as soon as they reached the level of the ledge where Shepard stood, and an eerie blue light emanated from its depths, illuminating the way down far more effectively than any flare. "Reading the probe directly below me," Shepard told the shore party, peering warily over the edge of the precipice. "Looks like the final drop." Then, taking a deep, readying breath, she tilted her steering stick forward, driving the Triton off the edge of the cliff and into the brightly-lit hole below.
The mech drifted slowly downward towards the unusual light, seeming to almost coast on the upward drafts of water as they slid over it, the bubbles dancing past the cockpit on their way towards the edge of the hole. "I can't see anything just yet," Shepard reported, looking around at what appeared to be cavernous rock formations lining the walls. Finally reaching the bottom of the drop, she landed with an unceremonious, rattling thud, the hard rock shaking her up more than any of her previous drops into wet sand had done before. A few feet in front of her, the probe launched from the Normandy flashed steadily red, enticing her innocently from a niche at the edge of the rock pathway. "Found the probe," she told the shore party, straightening up with a grunt and starting towards it. "Seems intact. I'm gonna keep moving." Reaching down, she deactivated the probe's tracking tech, causing it to instantly stop flashing, before turning her attention back towards the far edge of the rock causeway, where she could see another, dimmer light peering out towards her, as well as a few stray bubbles drifting up innocently over the edge of the rocky shelf.
As she got closer, however, the entire cavern seemed to give a heavy, quaking rumble, the ground moving jarringly under her feet, giving off a deep, echoing noise as a much larger cascade of bubbles drifted almost violently upward from over the edge of the rock outcropping. "What is that?" Shepard breathed, feeling her heart begin to race in her chest as she took another wary step forward, edging cautiously over towards the edge of the cliff. Her vigilant steps became smaller and smaller the closer she came to the ledge, until finally she found herself standing almost at the edge of the rock walkway, peering down into the abyss below. At first, she saw nothing, but then, feeling the rock structure around her begin to shudder violently again, she looked up, watching in fascinated terror as what looked to be two goliath horns or pincers – it was nearly impossible to tell at this scale – came rumbling up past the side of the cliff, followed by an immense, prehistoric-looking creature. Its scorpionesque scales glinted in the eerie, dull blue glow of the cavern as it rose to its full, impressive height, towering over Shepard as it raised its enormous clawed legs, effortlessly dwarfing her, even in the Triton mech.
"You have come too far," the creature rumbled, its deep, reverberating voice echoing inside of her head as well as all around her. Suddenly, in a flash of light, Shepard found herself standing in an unfamiliar setting, an immense, open dreamscape that seemed to go on forever in every direction. When she looked down, she saw that she was standing on what looked to be a glass floor pressed flat to the surface of the ocean, almost as if she were walking upside down under the waves. Bits and pieces of what seemed to be ash debris floated weightlessly around her, drifting on a nonexistant breeze, almost as if they had a mind of their own. She took a breath in, shocked to be breathing oxygen, before the vision suddenly vanished and she found herself once more inside the Triton mech, facing off against the colossal antediluvian creature. Shaking her head to clear it, she set her expression, her brow furrowing as she stared the titan down, gripping tightly to the controls of her mech as she braced herself for confrontation.
"I had to find you," Shepard told the creature. This had to be the Leviathan, she figured, pursing her lips – there was nothing else that something that looked like this and had this kind of power could possibly be.
"This is not your domain," the Leviathan told her, floating easily above her as it stared her down with its six enormous, glowing blue eyes. "You have breached the darkness."
"You killed a Reaper," Shepard insisted. "I need to know why."
"They are the enemy," the Leviathan answered, simply. "One that seeks our extermination."
There was another flash of light, and Shepard found herself back in the dreamscape, only this time, she was on the cool, glassy floor on her hands and knees. Her entire body ached, as if she had just been through the fight of her life, and she found that she could not even gather the strength to get up off her knees. Before she could have a chance to do anything, however, she found herself back in the mech once more, looking up at Leviathan again, now thoroughly confused. "But… I thought you were a… Reaper?" she asked, haltingly, still feeling the lingering ache of the dreamscape, though she had no idea why, or what could have caused her to hurt that way.
"They are only echoes," the Leviathan told her, seeming almost annoyed at the question. "We existed long before."
"Then what are you?" Shepard insisted, determinedly.
"Something more," the Leviathan answered, its voice dragging as it buzzed in her head. The buzzing grew more and more intense, deeper and louder, seeming almost to shake her from her seat, her head feeling as though she were being thrown around in a hurricane, though she was sitting perfectly still. Then, almost as suddenly as it had started, the buzzing and shaking stopped, and she found herself in the dreamscape once more, coughing harshly as she sought to catch her breath, dragged unexpectedly from her state of being into this new, unsettling plane. Looking up, she could blearily make out the shape of two legs moving towards her, and as her vision began to clear, she could see that the legs were attached to a body, and the body to a familiar face. "Your mind belongs to me," the visitor told her, speaking unnervingly in Leviathan's voice, though their mouth moved in perfect unison with the words. "Breathe."
"Anne?" Shepard asked, taken aback, pushing herself with some difficulty to her feet as she stood off against the willowy Doctor Bryson. "What's happening?"
Bryson stared at her, her murky-grey eyes blank and black, devoid of any of the muted warmth they had held when Shepard had worked with her on the surface. "Your memories give voice to our words," she answered, speaking again in Leviathan's voice as she tapped her temple indicatively with her finger. "Your nature will be revealed to us. We know everything there is to know about you. More than you know about yourself. Accept this."
"The galaxy is at war with the Reapers," Shepard insisted, shaking her head, still not understanding. She had no idea if she were speaking to Bryson or Leviathan, but she had a feeling, as with the creature's attempts to communicate through the artefacts, that the one doing the speaking was just a vessel, while the conscience that provided the voice was still very much Leviathan. "You defeated one – why aren't you fighting back?"
"There is no war," Leviathan returned, as Anne shook her head, turning away from Shepard. "There is only the Harvest."
"Then help us to stop it," Shepard insisted, watching as Bryson began to walk away, before she abruptly faded into the bleak, ashen air, leaving nothing behind. Suddenly, the same voice spoke up from Shepard's other side, causing her to turn quickly, this time to see Garrett Bryson's assistant, Hadley, walking towards her across the eerie dreamscape.
"No man possessed the strength in past cycles," Leviathan told her as Hadley moved past her, heading towards a lab station that had not been there mere seconds earlier. "Your own species could be destroyed with a single thought." Peering down into the microscope, he paused, considering something, before lifting his head and turning to look back at her again, and this time, when he turned, it was to reveal that he had somehow become Garneau. "But you… are different," Leviathan went on, as Garneau observed her, curiously, slitting his dark-ringed eyes as he watched her, waiting for a reaction. "I have witnessed your actions in this cycle. The destruction of Sovereign… the fall of the Collectors… the Reapers perceive you as a threat…" Garneau turned back towards his lab table, shifting suddenly back into Anne Bryson as he did so, too quick for Shepard to catch the transition. "…And I must understand why."
With another, sudden flash, Shepard found herself back in the mech again, feeling an odd, warm sensation begin to trickle down her upper lip. Raising a hand, she dabbed at her nose, drawing back her hand to realize that her nose was bleeding heavily. Before she had a chance to react, however, she suddenly found herself back in the dreamscape, back on her knees once more, her armoured hand clean, her upper lip perfectly dry. Looking over, she saw Hadley sitting next to her, staring up at something before them, and, turning to see what it was, she found herself staring up at the painted rock wall from Bryson's archaeological site. "Before the cycles, our Kind was the apex of life in the galaxy," Leviathan told her as Hadley's blank, black eyes searched the painting, almost longingly. "The lesser species were in our thrall, serving our needs. We grew more powerful and they were cared for. But we could not protect them from themselves. Over time, the species built machines that then destroyed them. Tribute does not flow from a dead race."
Hadley turned away from the painting, pushing himself to his feet, and Shepard was quick to follow suit, only to find herself talking to Bryson once again. "To solve this problem, we created an Intelligence with a mandate to preserve life at any cost," Leviathan explained as Bryson turned away from Shepard, heading away across the dreamscape with Shepard in stubborn, curious pursuit. "As the Intelligence evolved, it studied the development of civilizations. Its understanding grew until it found a solution." Bryson suddenly stopped, and as soon as she came to a halt, she changed again, this time into Garneau. "In that instant, it betrayed us," Leviathan went on as Garneau hung his head, sadly. "It chose our kind as the first Harvest. From our essence, the first Reaper was created." Turning to look at Shepard now, Garneau raised his brows. "You call it… Harbinger," Leviathan finished, tellingly.
"You built that machine despite what you saw the other races experience?" Shepard asked, frowning as she stared the dead-eyed scientist down. "Why?"
"You cannot conceive of a galaxy that bends to your will," Leviathan, now Hadley, answered, looking up and causing Shepard to look up as well, only to find that a large, glowing galaxy model now hung composedly over their heads. "Every creature… every nation… every planet we discovered become our tools. We were above the concerns of lesser species. The Intelligence was envisioned as simply another tool."
"And now we all pay the price for your mistake," Shepard pointed out, nonplussed.
"There was no mistake," Leviathan returned, inflexibly. "It still serves its purpose."
"But what's the point of all these Harvests?" Shepard insisted, getting frustrated with the entity's seemingly backwards logic.
"The Intelligence has one purpose: preservation of life," the Leviathan answered, candidly, returning to Bryson's form as it spoke. "That purpose is not being fulfilled. It directed the Reapers to create the Mass Relays, to speed the time between Cycles for greatest efficiency. The galaxy itself became an experiment… evolution its tool."
"So you mean to tell me that the Reapers created the Mass Relays so that each evolutionary cycle would more quickly reach the point where they decided it was the most beneficial to Harvest us?" Shepard asked, trying to figure out Leviathan's reasoning, though somehow it only seemed to become more and more difficult to understand the more it tried to explain itself. "They set us up to be killed? They afforded us the tools to evolve, and in doing so tricked us into destroying ourselves and our galaxy so that they would appear justified in killing us in accordance with this Intelligence you created?"
"The Intelligence seeks to preserve only that life which it deems beneficial to our continued existence," Leviathan explained, shifting back to Hadley now, seeming completely at peace with its justification. "Only those with the intelligence achieved by a fully evolved species are of any benefit to us. But with that evolutionary achievement comes the inevitability of outlasting their usefulness and becoming destructive instead." Moving around Shepard, Hadley came out the other side as Garneau, pacing once before stopping in front of her again, his hands folded thoughtfully behind his back. "The Intelligence preserves the species while their usefulness persists," Leviathan added, as Garneau lifted his chin, practically. "The Reapers ensure that there will always remain a galaxy for more species to evolve into usefulness."
"So it's a self-fulfilling prophecy," Shepard translated, her brow furrowing even deeper as she stared at Garneau, disgusted. "You build us up just so you can cut us down. You give us no warning and then punish us for our ignorance."
"You are not being punished," Leviathan corrected, calmly, as Garneau shook his head. "The Reapers are only doing what they believe to be necessary to fulfil the directives of the Intelligence."
"Will it ever end?" Shepard asked, tiring quickly of the roundabout conversation.
"Unknown," Leviathan answered, honestly, returning to Bryson's form again. "Until the intelligence finds what it's looking for, the Harvest will continue."
"Okay, you've made your point," Shepard sighed, frustrated. "Will you help stop this Cycle?"
Bryson stared at her, dead-eyed, considering her for a long moment. "I have searched your mind," Leviathan finally answered as Bryson narrowed her eyes at Shepard, observant. "You are an anomaly, yet that is not enough." Turning away from Shepard then, she began to walk away again, heading towards the endless expanse of the dreamscape.
"Wait—" Shepard stopped her, reaching out to clasp a hand down on her shoulder. Bryson felt ice cold to the touch, and there was something tough and inhuman about the rigidity of her skin underneath the material of her lab coat.
"The Cycle will continue," Leviathan assured her as Bryson turned to look at Shepard again, her expression blank.
"No," Shepard insisted, shaking her head, standing her ground. "You've been watching. You know this Cycle is different!"
"We will survive," Leviathan returned, unaffected. "You will remain here as a servant of our means. The Reapers will Harvest the rest."
"If you release me, no one has to be Harvested," Shepard contended, speaking slowly and authoritatively, hoping to persuade the entity against its own better judgement.
"Nothing will change," Leviathan told her, as Bryson shook her head, unconvinced. "If we release you, you will be lost to the galaxy, fighting your futile war. Like everything else, you too will inevitably fall victim to the Harvest. Keeping you here ensures your continued usefulness. To us… to everything."
"What are you talking about?" Shepard asked, feeling a cold, sinking sensation beginning to build in her gut at the vaguely ominous overture.
"Evolution of the species only ever goes so far before it comes to an apex and stops," Leviathan explained, matter-of-factly, as Bryson turned to face Shepard, head-on. "Your species has reached that apex. So have many others. But you represent an evolutionary link that has never been a part of the equation before. The literal joining of the species. A superevolution beyond the realm of mere evolutionary mutation."
"No," Shepard insisted, taking an alarmed step back, realizing with a sickening twist of her gut what the Leviathan was talking about.
"You will remain here," Leviathan insisted, and as Bryson stepped forward, following Shepard's step back, she suddenly shifted to Garneau again. "If we release you to your own devices, you cannot be trusted to continue on in our best interest… in the interest of the continued preservation of life… the continued evolution of the species. Here, you will face no such uncertainty. You will usher in a new evolutionary epoch. The Cycle will continue, but you will be safe here."
"NO!" Shepard shouted, more adamant now, baring her teeth defensively. "I will not stay here as some kind of… of… science experiment…!"
"You have no choice," Leviathan told her, as Garneau shook his head. "You cannot be trusted to return. Your only true usefulness is here, with us. How do you believe you can be trusted to decide the fate of the galaxy when you cannot even decide your own fate?"
Feeling a sudden, unexpected weight lift from her shoulders, Shepard looked down, realizing that she was no longer in her heavy-duty armour, but instead her military dress blues. The carefully-fitted front of her jacket pouched visibly outward with her distended stomach, and she quickly smoothed a hand over it, as if expecting that to do something to hide it. Instead, she watched in horror as the front of her uniform began to slowly billow further outward, the clasps of the jacket straining as they fought to contain whatever was growing underneath her shirt. Panicking, Shepard began to quickly unbutton her dress jacket, all but tearing it off her form as she tossed it off to one side, and when she looked down again, she was horrified to realize that the thing that had been growing underneath her uniform had actually been her. Letting out a choked, mortified sob, her hands instantly flew to her face, covering her eyes from the sight of what seemed to be the final stages of a long-overdue pregnancy, feeling a cold, throbbing pain run up her spine as her excruciating, distended, vein-coated stomach protruded grotesquely out in front of her, looking all but ready to explode.
"What are you doing?!" she demanded, her voice cracking, indignant, as she drew her hands away from her eyes. Her breath shuddered harshly in her chest as two terrified tears skated down her cheeks, but she did not even try to stop them. "Why are you doing this to me?!" she shouted. "Why can't you just let me go?!"
"We cannot risk letting you go," Leviathan answered, causing Shepard to turn towards the source of the voice. This time the projection was of Mordin, holding the same datapad he had been holding when he had first informed her of her pregnancy. Shepard frowned, startled and frightened by the Leviathan's ability to probe so deeply into her memory, and took a wary step back from the uncanny non-Mordin. Mordin looked up at her, his umber eyes flat and lifeless as a tiny, thin trickle of dark-green blood began to meander down the side of his face. "You came to us for help," Leviathan pointed out as the trickle of blood began to strengthen, slowly becoming more of a steady flow. "You wished us to help you to combat the Reapers. To stop the Harvest. To save this Cycle. This Cycle is beyond saving, but the next one still has hope. And your evolutionary contribution will be at the heart of it." As Leviathan spoke, the stream of blood running down Mordin's face intensified again, the half-horn on his right side beginning to crack at the base, slowly starting to lean to one side, before finally falling off entirely and clattering to the floor at his feet in a sickening splash of dark-green blood.
Blood gushed from the top of his head, streaking in slick cascades down his face, his neck, staining his white lab coat, but he did not even flinch as he took a step forward towards her, trailing green bloody footprints in his wake. "This is the help we have deemed in your best interest," Leviathan informed her, matter-of-factly, as Mordin took another blood-soaked step forward towards her, causing her to take another step back in return. "You wish to save the galaxy. Instead, you will project it into its next Renaissance." This time, Shepard heard a sickening crack, and as she watched, Mordin's arm began to slowly slump out of his sleeve, as if it had dislocated at the shoulder, before finally sliding out of his lab coat completely and landing on the floor of the dreamscape with a wet, bloody thunk. "This is the path we have chosen for you," the Leviathan told her, ominously. "This is the path you must take. There is no other way."
"You're wrong!" Shepard insisted, taking another terrified step back. "You're wrong!"
Her insistent voice echoed in the emptiness of the dreamscape, reverberating off the unseen walls of her seemingly endless enclosure. Shepard squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth as another wave of angry, frightened tears made their way down her face, and when she opened them again, Mordin was gone. Taking a sharp, shuddering breath, she turned, looking around, but could see no sign of the salarian, or any other projections. Even the pool of green blood where Mordin had been standing had disappeared, leaving nothing but pristine, medical cleanliness in its wake. Looking down at her still-distended stomach, she drew in a deep, shuddering breath, swallowing back hard, trying to calm herself, before tentatively reaching down a hand towards her visibly pulsating abdomen. Her fingertips barely brushed against it, causing her to give a visceral shudder, but she braced herself, taking a deep breath and gathering up her courage, before touching her full hand to the skin, sliding it down underneath the fleshy underside to feel the full extent of her gruesome, distended stomach.
Shepard felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up as the sensation registered, as if this nightmarish thing in front of her were really a part of her conscious being, and, quickly pulling her hand away, she let it hover uncertainly beside her for a moment, too unnerved to try again. Finally, she reached cautiously down towards her stomach again, moving her hand uncertainly over the top of her dome-like abdomen instead, but this time, rather than the mere unsettling feeling that this monstrosity was a part of her, she felt a sudden, new, unexpected sensation, as if an unanticipated pressure was pushing back against the hand running down her stomach from the other side of the skin – from inside of her. Looking down, she moved her hand away from her stomach in time to see the clear outline of a large, clawed handprint – at least twice the size of her own hand – indented against the wall of the flesh from the inside of her womb. The clawed hand pressed up against the top of her stomach, clearly visible for a good few seconds, before sliding slowly downward towards her navel and disappearing again around the curve of her flesh.
At the sight of this, Shepard let out a high, sharp, strangled scream, feeling suddenly physically ill, her mind racing as she tried to figure out if her body wanted her to cry or vomit, though she felt that one might simply end up leading to the other. "What is this?!" she demanded, turning her attention upward again, shouting fruitlessly for the Leviathan. She knew she was still inside her own head, and so could not actually see the creature she was addressing, but she was too panicked, traumatized, and angry to think with any semblance of logic right now. "What the hell is this?!" she shouted. "What are you trying to say?! What are you doing to me?!"
"I have done nothing to you," Leviathan answered, calmly, and Shepard turned quickly on her heel to see Joker washing his hands at what appeared to be a tiny sanitation station behind her. Picking up a medical mask from beside the sink, he strapped it on behind his ears, next pulling on a pair of medical latex gloves, before turning his gaze up towards her, expectantly. This Joker's eyes were dead, black, and cold, nothing like the kind green eyes she knew him to have in reality, and as he took a keen step forward towards her, she took a similar, wary step back in return. "It is only what you have done to yourself," Leviathan went on. "You are far too eager to lay the blame for your indecisiveness and predicaments on others. Perhaps you should start looking inward for why you continue to harbour feelings of resentment and failure."
"I…" Shepard started to argue, but found she had nothing to say in return. His words rang too eerily true for her to ignore, and she found herself frozen in place, hypnotized by her own rapt terror.
"You struggle to find purpose," Leviathan told her, the projected image flickering eerily between Joker and Miranda before finally settling on Joker again. "You yearn for meaning. Meaning is inflicted upon you by others, but you resent it. You want to be your own person, make your own mark on history. Not just the marks others have carved out for you to fit into."
"Stop it," Shepard insisted, her voice starting to shake again as another pair of hot, angry, terrified tears skated down her face.
"You consider yourself meaningless," Leviathan went on, doggedly, ignoring her frightened demand. "Hollow. Blindly worshipped against your wishes."
"Stop it," Shepard demanded, louder this time, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.
"You don't think you deserve the praise you receive," Leviathan told her, as Joker began to move towards her, pulling a scalpel from the pocket of his Alliance uniform and holding it up, ready to use it. "You search for significance, blinded by the superficial brilliance of your own reputation. We will give you that meaning. We will give you that purpose."
"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Shepard shouted, taking a step forward and driving her fist through the face of the projection-Joker, only to have it go straight through, the projection vanishing the instant her hand made contact. Spinning on her heel, Shepard breathed heavily, looking around wildly for any sign of the Leviathan, but, seeing nothing, she relaxed a bit, allowing her hand to come unclenched, hardly even noticing the deep, red nail-marks that had been pressed into the raw, pink skin of her palms. Letting her hand fall subconsciously back to her grotesquely distended stomach, she moved it distractedly along the flesh, following the path the horrifying handprint had taken, almost as if hoping to find it again. When she reached the point where it had disappeared, however, she felt her entire body go suddenly numb with fear as her fingers slid unconsciously inside what felt like a ragged, gaping hole at the base of her stomach, just out of sight over the red, vein-ridden, swollen flesh of the top.
Pieces and chunks of mangled flesh dangled from the edges of the hole on ravaged, stringy strips of skin, as if something had viciously ripped her open from the inside, leaving nothing in its wake but an enormous, yawning wasteland. As her numb fingers worked cautiously around this new, macabre development, Shepard quickly realized that the inside of her distended stomach was now hollow, like a fleshy reptile egg left behind after the creature had hatched. Moving her hands blindly further inside, she felt the sick, wet sensation of one of her intestines slopping out from inside her hollowed-out gut to dangle sickeningly against her leg, dribbling bile down her already blood-soaked dress pants. With nothing now holding them inside of her, Shepard could feel the spongy, slimy sensation as all the rest of her internal organs began to slowly spill outward over the edge of her ruined gut as well, and she desperately clutched instinctively at her stomach, attempting to grab them all up and push them back inside of her, to little avail. No matter how many times she grabbed them and pushed them back inside, there always seemed to be more, many more than she felt could possibly be anatomically correct, and despite her best efforts to keep them inside, they just kept spilling back out again.
"STOP IT!" Shepard screamed, bending double as she desperately tried to keep her slippery organs inside her body. "STOP THIS! YOU CAN'T KEEP ME HERE! LET GO OF ME, YOU HAVE TO LET ME GO!"
"You refuse to see the truth," Leviathan returned, solemnly, and when Shepard looked up, she found herself staring into the face of Miranda Lawson, who crouched uncomfortably close, staring into her face with unblinking, lidless eyes. "You exist in a continuum, not a vacuum. Your actions will have consequences. You will change the world, whether you mean to or not."
"I don't want to change the world," Shepard breathed, huffing a soft, dry sob as a loop of her intestine slipped out of her hands, dropping to the floor with a wet, heavy slop, spattering her with blood. "I just want the Reapers to leave, I just… I just want to live…"
"If you do not stay, you will be harvested like all the rest," Leviathan told her, curtly, as Miranda reached forward, grabbing hold of her intestine and giving a harsh yank, forcing her to pay attention. "Out there, you can change nothing. Here, with us, we are giving you the chance to change everything – for the better. To use your unique circumstances for the betterment of the galaxy. To forgo the Harvest and look ahead. To change the face of the future."
"I don't want to change the face of the future!" Shepard shouted back, getting angrier and angrier with each word. "Let me GO!" Grabbing hold of the other end of the intestine Miranda held, she jerked it back, pulling it from Miranda's grasp. As she did so, the length of intestine vanished from her hands, and when she looked down, she found that her body gone back to normal, and she was back in her armour again. Looking up at Miranda again, she watched as the projection flickered once more, this time alternating between Miranda and Liara like a vidscreen on the fritz. Both looked gaunt, grey-faced, their normally blue eyes filled in with soulless black as they stared at her, unblinking, seeming to slowly wither before her very eyes.
"Your selfishness would not go unpunished," Leviathan warned her, stopping its flickering on Liara, who stared at Shepard with cold, black, lifeless eyes, the same eyes she had seen from Morinth right before the Ardat-Yakshi had tried to kill her. "By refusing to help us, you refuse to help yourself. Your Cycle. Future Cycles. It all amounts to nothing. You have the power to change the galaxy, yet you wish only to consider your own wants. Your own ambitions."
"Let… me… go," Shepard hissed, glaring at Liara, her voice shaking with anger as she bared her teeth, feeling two more hot, indignant tears slide down her cheeks. "The Reapers know where you are. You can't just watch anymore. You have to fight! Even if you survive the battle today, the Reapers won't stop – ever!" Taking another deep, rattling breath, she shook her head, wetting her cracked, salty lips. "Release me and we have a chance to end this," she told Leviathan, determinedly. "Once and for all."
Liara stared back at her, indifferently, unblinking, letting the moment of silence stretch out indefinitely, razor-thin and cold as ice in the unnatural dreamscape. Just then, the eerily distorted sound of a baby crying caught her attention, and Shepard looked up, startled, before turning back to where Liara had been standing only a moment earlier, only to find that she had disappeared, just like the other projections. Shepard looked around, expecting another figure to manifest, but saw nothing, only the sound of distorted crying reaching her ears again. She spun around, looking for the source of the noise, before suddenly spotting something several feet away across the bizarre, watery surface. A baby bed sat alone in the dreamscape, swaying gently back and forth on its rockers despite no wind and no one there to drive it. Shepard approached the cradle tentatively, standing back a few feet from it, listening as the odd, skin-chilling sound of the distorted baby's cry repeated itself again, this time louder, clearly coming from inside the crib.
Moving cautiously closer to the source of the noise, Shepard peered over the edge of the cradle, looking inside for the baby, but saw only a nursery-patterned blanket draped over what appeared to be the form of a sleeping child. Reaching warily forward, she hesitated, her hand lingering just above the cradle, before finally taking hold of the blanket and pulling it off to reveal what was waiting underneath. As soon as she did, the dreamscape was instantly shattered with the ear-splitting sound of a Reaper foghorn, and the seemingly solid form under the blanket quickly collapsed into a pool of blood, gushing between the slats in the cradle and onto the floor, filling the floor with more blood than could possibly have been contained in a cradle so small. Shepard jumped backwards away from the cradle, dropping the blanket as her heavy armoured boots splashed sickeningly against the floor, watching as it began to turn from glassy, mirrored water to deep red blood.
The sound of the baby's crying became louder and more distorted, turning quickly from something eerie into something downright horrific, mingling with the sound of the Reaper horn in a deafening sensory overload. Shepard covered her head with her hands, pressing them against her ears as tightly as she could and squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to block the chaos out, but to no avail. The noise was too loud to suppress, the pool of blood lapping dizzyingly against her ankles as it began to slowly rise higher and higher, pulling her down into it. "STOP IT!" she screamed, doubling over on herself as she fought to remain standing despite the hammering she was getting from every direction. "STOP IT! YOU'RE WRONG! I'M A GOOD MOTHER! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!"
"You'll never be a proper mother."
The voice that spoke was a child's voice, too hauntingly familiar for Shepard to ignore, and she quickly looked up again, her eyes wide with terror. As soon as she did so, everything vanished – the crib, the blood, the Reaper horn, all of them gone, leaving her in ringing, solitary silence once more. The change was jarring, unsettling to her senses, and so sudden that she almost felt sick to her stomach, but she gritted her teeth, looking around for the source of the voice. Turning her head, she found herself suddenly face-to-face with the one who had spoken, and for a moment, she could only stare in mixed shock and horror at the little boy from Earth, who stared just as evenly back, his expression unmoving as he stood casually in front of her with his hands in the pockets of his worn grey hoodie. Every detail about him was perfect, just the way she remembered him being when she had tried to help him escape from the air vent just moments before his untimely death at the hands of the Reapers.
"You know you won't," the boy suddenly added, self-assured, seeming not even to notice how completely haggard and surprised Shepard looked to see him. "How do you expect to take care of a child when you can barely take care of yourself?" The child stared at her, continuing to stand eerily in place, his light-blue eyes blank and expressionless as he offered her a chilling, emotionless smile. When she took a step closer, looking deeper into his face, she realized that the pupils were completely missing from his eyes, leaving him with an unnatural, almost doll-like appearance. He continued to smile at her, his smile chilling and detached, as if it were the sentiment of someone else entirely. "You'll never be a proper mother," he repeated, his voice beginning to warp, like the sound of a music box that had been submerged in water for too long. "You know you won't. How do you expect to take care of a child when you can barely take care of yourself?"
"Stop saying that," Shepard insisted, reaching forward to grab hold of the spectral child and give him a hard, desperate shake. "Do you hear me? Stop saying that – STOP SAYING THAT!"
"You'll never be a proper mother," the boy repeated, unperturbed by her shaking, his voice distorting even more violently now, the pitch sinking lower and lower. As she continued shaking him, the skin on his face began to slowly droop, the flesh around his eyes sliding steadily downward as the smiling edges of his mouth began to invert, until finally his entire face appeared to be melting off, sinking further downward until the useless flesh hung soggily from the base of his chin. This did not stop the warped voice from repeating the same disconcerting message over and over again, reverberating all around her, getting inside her head. "You know you won't," the boy continued, his voice now almost as deep as Harbinger's had been. "How do you expect to take care of a child—"
"STOP SAYING THAT!" Shepard shrieked, hot, angry, terrified tears running down her face as she reached up, grabbing hold of either side of the child's head and giving him a good, hearty shake. As she did so, the skin of his face ripped off in her grasp, leaving her holding a hollow, spectral mask of flesh in the image of the little boy from Earth. Staring at the gory thing between her hands, she felt a gush of bile surge up, and before she could stop herself, she bent over to one side, emptying her stomach onto the dreamscape floor. When she looked up again, the little boy was still standing before her, but in the place where his face had been there now sat instead the leering, skeletal mask of a Brute, its glowing, pupilless eyes staring out at her as a low, growling drone reverberated from within. As she watched, the child began to grow, his entire body expanding steadily outward as his clothes ripped away from his form, falling in useless tatters on the ground, until finally the little boy was no more, and Shepard instead found herself face-to-face with the Brute from her nightmare.
"No," she breathed, the fleshy mask falling out of her numb fingers and onto the ground at her feet. "No… no…"
"WHAT'S THE MATTER, MOTHER?" the Brute hissed, its voice a chilling, guttural growl as its long, wire-laden, vertebral neck snaked out towards her, rattling as it went. "DON'T YOU RECOGNIZE YOUR OWN SON?"
"YOU'RE NOT MY SON!" Shepard screamed. Reaching forward, she grabbed hold of the Brute's long, metal-plated neck, yanking it forward and giving it a sharp twist under her arm before ramming her knee sharply upward into the vertebrae. The creature gave a shrill, ear-shattering electronic shriek as the plated bones of its neck began to crack under the pressure, and then to tear, the hefty wires entwined in the bonework giving off a low, loud electrical noise of protest as a shower of sparks cascaded out from the torn cabling. A sick, organic-looking grey plasma dribbled from a tube in the Brute's now-severed neck onto the floor, but the eyes of the skull in Shepard's hands did not flicker out, remaining the same frightening, glowing blue as they stared back at her from her own grasp. Letting out another wordless, feral scream of anger, Shepard threw the skull and vertebral neck to one side, turning her attention back to the rest of the Brute as it continued to tower menacingly in front of her.
"YOU'RE NOT MY SON!" she repeated, driving a biotic fist so hard into the creature's metal-plated chest that it shattered its core display, causing all of her knuckles to split, but she hardly seemed to notice as she did it again, and again, and again. Grabbing hold of the Brute's exposed cable intestines, she began to rip them out, two at a time, screaming wordlessly as the tubes began to spray and spark in protest, splattering her with the same grotesque, grey organic material as before, burning her cheeks as the hot sparks flew into her face. "YOU ARE NOT MY CHILD!" she told the creature, hot, angry tears beginning to stream down her face again as she seized hold of its smaller, less threatening arm. Bracing a foot against the creature's strong thigh, she twisted the arm until the cabling let out a loud, whining screech, straining and then breaking apart, spewing out a cascade of yellow-hot sparks before beginning to dribble the same grey organic plasma onto the floor and Shepard.
She was screaming without even meaning to now, so deafened to her own noise that she hardly heard herself as she reached up to grasp hold of the Brute's exposed spines, her fists glowing blue as she strained, and then ripped them both off, causing the creature to give another painful shriek as the shards of bone clattered to the dreamscape floor. Shepard screamed again, louder this time, drowning out the sound of the creature, before seizing hold of the Brute's enormous, claw-like other arm and beginning to pull. The Brute did not budge, merely standing in place as she endeavoured to rip its limb from its body, and, with one last, overwhelming burst of biotic energy, Shepard successfully tore the metal arm away from the rest of the Brute, watching with satisfaction as grey liquid sprayed from the open wound in violent, disgorging spurts, causing the beast to let out a resounding, agonizing scream.
Gritting her teeth, Shepard bared her fist again, blue with biotic energy, before driving it straight through the creature's core display. Then, reaching inside its chest, she ripped out its black and blue, rotten, still-beating heart, holding it victoriously over her head as the now-ruined Brute fell to its knees, and then collapsed to one side, utterly destroyed. Thick, black bile oozed down her hand from the ravaged heart, the musculature deteriorated almost to unrecognizability, patched together with blue-and-silver wires and connected by monitor lights. Finally, completely drained, she let her hand fall back to her side, the Brute's heart rolling out of her numb, exhausted grasp and falling to the floor with a wet splat, the ruined, spongy muscle splattering like rotten fruit as soon as it hit the ground. Shepard was quick to follow, falling gracelessly to her knees, her legs collapsing unceremoniously under her as she stared in horrified triumph at the mess she had made.
"Your confidence is… singular," Leviathan observed, sounding almost surprised by this revelation. Shepard looked up, still panting, drained, her vision wavering with exhaustion as it came to settle on the newest projection, this time of Javik. The Prothean came to stand in front of the detached skull and neck of the Brute, seeming bored, almost disinterested as he stared down at the gruesome spoil.
"I've earned it," Shepard told him, out of breath, pushing her sweaty bangs heavy-handedly out of her eyes. "Out there fighting! Where you should be!"
"It is clear why the Reapers perceive you as a threat," Leviathan returned as Javik bent down, picking up the skull to take a closer look, seeming almost indifferent to it as he stared into the still-glowing blue eyes. The vertebrae still attached to it rattled along the floor as he picked it up, causing an involuntary shiver to run down Shepard's spine at the sound. "Your victories are more than a product of chance."
Another flash of light, and Shepard found herself back in the Triton, her eyelids almost unfathomably heavy as she sat, slumped against the side of her seat, the belts and harness holding her into the mech the only things keeping her from tipping over completely. A deep, unearthly rumbling sound came from somewhere before her, somewhere inside the black abyss of the pit where the Leviathan still hovered, and, as she watched through half-lidded, heavy eyes, she saw as two more creatures just like the first began to slowly rise up from the chasm to join the first one. All three Leviathan creatures stared down at her, menacing and enormous, the otherworldly rumbling growing louder and louder as they stared at her together, judging her. Then, just as suddenly as she found herself outside of the dreamscape, she was back inside it again, still sitting on the floor where she had fallen, though all trace of the Brute she had defeated had disappeared, leaving the dreamscape pristine and empty again. Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps, she turned her head in time to see Hadley walking up behind her, his expression set, looking almost disdainful of her as he approached.
"We will fight," Leviathan told her as Hadley came to stand beside her, looking down at her, steely-faced. "But not for you. Or any other, lesser race. We were first… the Apex Race. We will survive." Turning away from Shepard again, Hadley walked away, vanishing, only to walk up behind Shepard again, as Bryson this time. "The Reapers who trespass on this world will understand our power," Leviathan added as Bryson turned her attention to Shepard now, her normally pleasant face dark with the same cold disdain that had painted Hadley's face before her. "They will become our slaves. Today… they pay their tribute in blood." Bryson paused then, looking away from Shepard, lifting her gaze and taking a deep breath, before suddenly reverting back to Javik on the exhale. "It is apparent why you are revered," the Leviathan continued, addressing Shepard directly now, despite Javik's four cold yellow eyes still staring off somewhere past her shoulder, unaffected. "Those who follow you would be nothing without you to lead them… to spearhead your cause. Their confidence is well-placed. However, that which you carry is too precious to be lost as simply another casualty of war."
The projection changed again, and this time, when Shepard looked up, it was to find herself staring into the unnervingly familiar face of Garrus Vakarian. He crouched down in front of her, staring at her, his expression firm, frighteningly so, and though she knew it to be merely a projection and not the real thing, the sight of him looking at her in such a way, almost as if she were a commodity instead of a living person, still disturbed her more than she could explain. "You may return to your war, Shepard," Leviathan told her, solemnly, speaking again through the mouth of the projection. Then, reaching forward towards her, Garrus placed his hands on her thighs, causing her to give a startled, gasping shudder at the unfamiliar, almost inhumanly heavy weight of his hands against her armour, pinning her to the floor of the dreamscape. "…But you must leave what you carry behind," Leviathan finished, ominously.
Frantic, screaming panic shot through Shepard at these words, and she woke up suddenly in the Triton again with a sharp jolt, forcing her way out of the dreamscape in sheer terror. Her nose still bled profusely, the stream much more pronounced than it had been the last time she had woken up, but then, feeling another wet sensation, she looked down, only to realize to her horror that blood had begun to seep from between her legs as well, slicking the thighs of her armour and soaking into the material of the seat. Another strong, psychic pulse washed over her, seeming almost to constrict around her brain, attempting to drag her back into the dreamscape again, but she gritted her teeth, fighting it off with every ounce of willpower she could manage. Suddenly, she felt a dull, throbbing ache flare up from her back, the sensation spreading downwards into her abdomen as a heave of pressure pushed down uncomfortably against her pelvis. Her entire body gave a wracking shudder as she gripped the handles at the edges of the mech's roof, giving a dry sob as she felt herself contract, another gush of blood surging from between her legs at the terrifying sensation, seeping over the edge of the seat and dripping onto her armoured boots and the floor of the mech.
Pressing her legs frantically together, Shepard panicked, clawing desperately at the mech's controls as she searched for the emergency thruster switch that would send her back to the surface. Finally finding what she was looking for, she input the emergency launch code with violently shaking hands, feeling the mech start to back up across the surface of the rock causeway before finally activating its thrusters and starting towards the lip of the cavern. A long, deep, terrifying rumble followed the Triton as it rose, a singular beacon of light illuminated against the dark, murky depths of the ocean as it made its way back towards the surface, racing against time and the Leviathan as it strove to get away, and Shepard strove just as hard not to think of what would happen once she got there.
The Triton broke the surface with a burst of ocean spray, its thrusters sputtering in the now-open air as they propelled the mech a few feet upward into the bleak sky before finally faltering and dying, dropping it down onto the slick, metal surface of the barge with a heavy, reverberating thunk. The reinforced feet of the mech took most of the shock of the landing, but the impact still caused Shepard to give a shout of pain as the cockpit rattled her up and down, sending another sharp pang of agony up her spine. Heavy rain cascaded down against the lid of the mech, obscuring her already blurry vision, but she pushed the controls weakly forward, desperately searching for any familiar presence, anything to ground her, to assure her that she was not still in the hell she had just escaped.
As she walked the mech forward across the surface of the barge, Shepard could barely make out the forms of Garrus and Liara darting across the rainy dory, firing openly at two Brutes that had somehow managed to corner them on the edge of the platform. Slowing to a shaky stop, she groped heavy-handedly for the button to open the lid of the mech, and as soon as the cover began to rise, the safety bar that had been holding her inside lifted up off her chest, causing her to slump forward in her seat, barely held up by the cross-strapped belts she had buckled herself in with. As the mech powered down, driven to its limit by the bottomless dive, Shepard fumbled blindly for the button to release the safety belts, her numb fingers finally pushing down on it just hard enough to cause them to retract, releasing her from their hold. Without anything left to hold her in place, she slowly collapsed forward, her knees giving out under her as she tumbled from the cockpit of the mech, landing unceremoniously on her face on the rain-slicked metal surface of the barge. She heard a sickening crack as she made contact, knowing from the sharp ache in her head that she had likely broken her nose in the impact, but she was too weary to even force herself to acknowledge the pain.
The rain continued to pour down on her in unrelenting droves as she lay where she had fallen, unable to move, the driving water eddying around her, washing away the blood that coated her in swirling florets. With the amount of water moving around her, it was difficult to tell where the blood was coming from, and as she looked up, her hair sticky and wet with blood and rain, all she could see was a singular stream of reddish-tinted water flooding over the edge of the deck and back out to sea before vanishing into the churning waves. It was impossible to tell where the blood from her nose ended and the blood from between her legs began. As she squinted, trying to clear her blurry vision, she looked up in time to see the two Brutes that had earlier been antagonizing Garrus and Liara moving towards her across the barge, snarling menacingly, their massive claws raised, ready to attack. A wave of sickening panic pulsed through her at the sight of the creatures, and she gave a visceral, almost involuntary dry, choking sob, screaming hoarsely and pushing out one useless hand in the Brutes' direction in an effort to ward the monstrosities away.
Almost as soon as she had, she heard a low, thrumming sound, like the pump of a massive heartbeat, and felt a wave of what felt like pure energy wash over her, engulfing the Brutes as it passed. The Brutes stopped dead in their tracks, seeming stunned, almost confused. Then, after a moment of razor-thin, ringing pause, the Brutes suddenly turned on one another, beginning to fight one another, completely ignoring Shepard. Recognizing his chance, Garrus instantly darted forward from his defensive cover, making his way quickly over to where Shepard lay, still giving desperate, gasping, dazed sobs as she watched the Brutes fighting in front of her, unsure what was happening or why. Gathering her up under the arms, he tried to coax her to her feet, but she gave another hoarse scream at the sight of him, attempting to push him away with what little strength she had, before beginning to thrash weakly in his grip, striking him uselessly with her fists.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" she screamed, traumatized. "DON'T TOUCH ME!"
Garrus ignored Shepard's frail protests, giving a grunt of effort as he dragged her back towards the safety of his and Liara's cover before finally allowing her to drop down again as soon as he knew she was out of harm's way. "Shepard's back!" Garrus shouted, pressing in on his in-ear comm as he glanced back over the edge of the cover, making sure the Brutes were still distracted. "Cortez, talk to me!"
"We're good to go!" Cortez reported back over the intercom, just as breathless. "I don't know what the Commander did, but the pulse is offline!"
Looking up at the sound of an approaching vehicle, Shepard hyperventilated, her eyes widening as the blurry outline of the Kodiak made its way towards them, finally settling into a steady hover a few yards away from their position. Garrus tried to pull Shepard to her feet again, but again she protested, wrestling out of his grip, causing Liara to have to take the mantle instead, looping Shepard's wet, blood-streaked arm around her shoulders as the three limped over to the Kodiak as fast as their hindered legs could carry them. Clambering up into the Kodiak first, Garrus turned back around, holding out his arms expectantly as Liara pulled Shepard's arm from her shoulders, coaxing her forward into Garrus' waiting hands. Despite her weak struggling, Garrus still managed to lift her up into the Kodiak, settling her gently down on the floor of the carriage before helping Liara up into the shuttle as well and closing the door quickly behind them. With his crew now on board, Cortez put the engines into overdrive, pulling the Kodiak up into a sharp ascent and streaking into the bleary sky in the direction of the waiting Normandy.
"Commander, we got a Reaper inbound!" Cortez called back over his shoulder, desperately typing commands into the console as he tried to manoeuvre as quickly as possible out of the way of the incoming vessel. Shepard looked up at the announcement, startled, and, seeing the rapidly approaching Reaper through the visor of the shuttle, she gave a sharp, violent, involuntary lurch, vomiting up what was left of her lunch all over the front of her armour. The Reaper honed its sights on the shuttle, its singular red targeting light blazing into life as it zeroed in on the tiny ship's approach. Suddenly, another thrumming, near-heartbeat pulse washed over the Kodiak, engulfing the Reaper in its thralls and causing the machine to go instantly slack, its leg-like claws flailing out unceremoniously to its sides as it sailed right over the Kodiak. Cortez pushed the shuttle forward, darting under the Reaper, just barely managing to clear its length before the massive unit went into freefall, toppling heavily downward through the air until it finally crashed into the ocean below. The Reaper floated momentarily on the surface of the water, lingering, before it slowly began to sink, its weakly-twitching legs the last part of it to disappear beneath the choppy ocean waves.
With the Reaper threat taken care of, Shepard gave a soft, delirious whimper, clutching desperately towards Liara, who was quick to kneel down to her level, holding onto her reassuringly as she began to sob, hyperventilating hysterically. At first, her words were unintelligible, but as Liara listened, she began to understand her more clearly. "I don't want it anymore," Shepard sobbed quietly, shaking her head as she hiccupped wildly for breath. "Take it out of me! Please don't make me do this…! I can't take it, please…!" A trickle of blood dripped freely from her broken nose as she buried her face in Liara's shoulder, her thin, frantic shoulders shaking as Liara hushed her gently, pulling her in close and resting her hand reassuringly on the Commander's thigh as she petted her wet, blood-streaked hair.
"What is she talking about?" Garrus insisted, startled, crouching down beside the two of them and turning his gaze desperately towards Liara. "What is she saying?!"
"She's delirious," Liara told him, frankly. Then, turning her attention back to Shepard again, she lifted free hand to push a stray lock of hair from the Commander's face, but frowned when she saw an unexpected streak of blood on her armoured glove. Looking down towards Shepard's thighs, Liara bit her lip, considering for a short, tense moment whether to say anything, before deciding it would be best not to, at least for the time being. "Shh, Shepard, it's okay," she assured her, gently, holding her shivering form to her chest. "You're going to be all right."
"What in the world happened down there?" Garrus asked, hovering frantically over the two like a panicked mother hen. "What's wrong with her? Is she going to be all right?" In response, Shepard gave another loud, dry, choking sob, her fingers curling into the tough outline of Liara's armour as she curled in on herself, tucking her knees in close to her body as she dropped her head down, hiding it from view.
"Please," she begged, her voice wavering desperately, barely able to speak for its shaking. "Please, I can't take it anymore… you can't let them have it… please, just take it out of me…"
"She's in shock," Liara told Garrus, coaxing Shepard's chin up to wipe the streaks of tears, blood, and vomit from her haggard, reddened face. "Once we're back on the Normandy, I'll take her up to her cabin, see if I can calm her down. You should stay down on crew level and let everyone know what happened."
"What?" Garrus insisted, frowning, taken aback by the unsavoury suggestion. "No! No, I'm not gonna wait around the crew deck like some… some ignorant stoolpigeon while Shepard's still in this state. I mean – look at her, Liara! Something is clearly very wron—"
Suddenly, Shepard looked up at Garrus, her frenzied eyes growing wide as she reached up to grip his face between her hands, cutting him off short as she forced him to look directly at her. Garrus' expression instantly cleared, changing from one of distaste to one of surprise as Shepard took a deep, shuddering breath, her entire body shivering violently as she stared wildly up into his eyes, desperate and afraid. "I'm not going to have it," she told him, her voice dark, but still shaking. "I can't do it. You can't make me. Please. Please don't make me."
Garrus faltered, staring, wide eyed, at Shepard, taken aback by her words, before turning his attention desperately up towards Liara again, even more frantic than before. "Liara, what is going on?!" he insisted, his own voice nearly breaking with worry. "What is she talking about?!"
"We're almost to the Normandy," Cortez reported, anxiously, turning around in his seat to check fleetingly on the shore party. "Can Shepard hold on just a little bit longer?"
"She'll be all right," Liara answered, gently prying Shepard's hands away from Garrus' face and cradling her head against her collar-bone instead. "Just… hurry, please, if you can." Then, turning her attention back to Garrus, she frowned, pursing her plum lips as she held Shepard protectively against her chest, rocking her gently to calm her frayed nerves. "If you really need to know what's going on, you can ask her about it later," she told him, not even bothering to keep from bristling. "She's not well, Garrus. Tell the crew what happened. I'm going to see if I can't take care of Shepard."
"Kill me," Shepard whispered, her shrill voice hoarse, almost undiscernible in Liara's ear. "Please… please… just kill me…!"
"Arriving at the Normandy," Cortez announced, coasting the Kodiak into a hurried, smooth landing inside the hangar of the much larger ship.
The warm, sweet smell of vanilla was the first thing Shepard registered when she finally opened her eyes.
At first, she had no idea where she was. The clear, open expanse looking out onto the starry stretch of space above her made her wonder initially if she might be dead and merely feeling like she still inhabited her mortal body for whatever neurological sensation associated the soul with the physical self. It took her a moment to realize she was lying in her bed in her cabin on the Normandy, and the starscape she was looking out on was her upward-facing window to the exterior of the ship. She had no idea how she had gotten there – her last solid memory was of getting into the Triton mech on 2181 Despoina and going into the water, but after that, everything was a scattered blur. Reaching up a hand, she touched it gently to her face, noting the bandage taped across the bridge of her nose, which gave a stinging pang as she touched it, causing her to hiss quietly in pain. At this sound, Liara looked up from where she sat on the couch halfway across the room, raising her painted brows, surprised. When she saw that Shepard was not in serious distress, she relaxed a bit, letting out a soft, relieved breath as her gloved hands curled gently around a mug of vanilla tea sitting delicately in her lap.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Liara greeted her, softly.
Pressing a hand to her aching head, Shepard gave a soft groan, shifting on the bed to prop herself up on her elbows in an effort to better see what was going on. Now that she was more fully awake, she slowly began to remember the events of a few days before, blurry, scattered memories starting to take uncertain form as she attempted to piece them all together. "How long was I out?" she asked, hoarsely, squinting into the soft light of the cabin.
"Three days," Liara answered, gently. "I went ahead and gave you a bath on the first day. I hope you don't mind, but… I figured you needed it. And then again yesterday, after you'd sweated through your pyjamas, pillow, and sheets." She paused here, biting down gently on her lower lip, before taking in another soft, deep breath. "You were really out of it for a while," she said, honestly. "For the first day or so, I was afraid you might not wake up at all."
"And miss out on your tea?" Shepard joked, weakly, causing Liara to give a small, soft smile in return.
Getting up from her seat, Liara set her mug of tea aside on the low couchside table, moving over to where the still-hot kettle sat on the far edge of Shepard's desk before picking up a second mug she had brought with her from beside the kettle and beginning to fill it with hot, fragrant tea. Once the cup was nearly full, she set the kettle down again, crossing the room to where Shepard still sat in bed and handing her the steaming mug. Satisfied that Shepard could handle it, she moved back across the room towards the couch again, settling herself down and picking up her own mug of tea again, taking a small, quiet sip. With this genial process now finished, a moment of silence fell between them, awkward, telling, the only thing moving the soft curls of steam drifting off Shepard's mug of tea as it sat, watched but untouched, in her lap.
"How is…?" Shepard suddenly spoke up again, but quickly trailed off, reluctant to finish the question. Her hand drifted down to her stomach, half-aware, as if to make sure everything up to this point had not been some sort of strange fever dream, but when she felt the telltale curve of her abdomen underneath her pyjama shirt, she knew it was all too real.
"Stable," Liara returned, candidly, giving a little nod in return. "I… managed to get in contact with Mordin, on Nevos, to ask him for his insight on how to… help. He was very accommodating, of course. He helped me figure out how to check up on it using your omni-tool function, and do what I could to… make sure it…" She trailed off as well, chewing nervously on her lower lip as she stared warily at Shepard, not wanting to say something insensitive but unsure what to say instead.
"Make sure it lived," Shepard finished, frankly. "Make sure it wasn't dead."
"Yes," Liara answered, seeming strangely less than relieved at having her uncomfortable sentence finished. She paused, awkwardly, tapping her gloved fingers gently against the line of her mug as she stared down at her tea, lost in thought. Then, taking a sharp breath in, she suddenly looked up again, as if she had just remembered something important. "I talked to Anne Bryson," she told Shepard. "Admiral Hackett has asked her to join the scientific team on Earth working to complete the Crucible Project. She seemed very excited to hear about your ordeal with the Leviathan, as did Admiral Hackett." At this, she paused again, fidgeting uncertainly with her mug as she turned her attention to her gloved hands once more, anxious. "I… told them it was likely not something you would be willing to talk about," she finished, tentatively. "At least for a long while yet. I… hope that was the right thing to say. You weren't exactly around to ask about it."
"That was fine," Shepard confirmed, nodding tiredly as she brought her tea to her lips, blowing on it gently before taking a sip. "Thank you." Returning her mug of tea to her lap, she stared wistfully down into it, watching as the gentle steam curled off the liquid before disappearing into the still cabin air. Another long, uncertain moment of silence stretched between them, both deep in thought but neither wanting to voice what they were thinking. Then, looking up at Liara again, Shepard took a deep breath, her thin fingers curling around the edge of her mug as she prepared herself to speak. "I'm going to get rid of it," she announced, her expression set, unwavering. "After Thessia. I want to get the Prothean artefact to Hackett as soon as possible, to help with the building of the Crucible, but once that's over, I…" Faltering, she hesitated, her lips pursing into a hard line as her fingers twitched around the edges of her mug. "I'm going to ask Raan to help me get rid of it," she said, a bit more uncertainly now. "That way I'll have gotten the important mission out of the way, so I won't feel so badly taking some time to… do this."
Liara's brow furrowed into a gentle frown, her index finger tapping anxiously against the rigid edge of her mug. "Are you sure?" she finally asked, tentatively, her voice quiet. "Are you certain you aren't just making a snap decision? I know you've said you wanted to terminate before, but you always seemed to change your mind later. I would make absolute certain this is what you want to do before you make any rash decisions. You know that once you terminate, there's no going back."
Shepard took a deep, shuddering breath at this thought, wetting her lips, uncertainly, before finally swallowing hard and nodding her head, determined. "I… I can't go through with this, Liara," she told her, frankly, her voice beginning to shake faintly again. "Not after what the Leviathan…" She trailed off, going silent again, her fast-beating heart rising up to her throat, threatening to choke her at the still-sensitive, horrific memory. "Not after what happened," she said, amending herself, quieter. "…Down there."
"The Leviathan was just trying to get in your head, Shepard," Liara told her, reassuring, tucking her legs up under her on the couch as she blew on her own drink, cooling it. "None of that was real. It wanted you for itself and was trying to mess with you until you did what it wanted."
"I… I know," Shepard answered, quietly, taking another deep, settling breath. "I know that's true. But… even so, I can't keep it. Not after that." She stared down intently at the tea in her hands, watching as the surface of the liquid burbled faintly in her shaking grasp. Then, turning her pleading gaze up towards Liara again, she took a shuddering breath in, earnest. "Please, Liara," she begged, quietly. "Just respect my choice."
Liara paused, thoughtful, watching Shepard, worriedly. Then, letting out a soft sigh of breath, she nodded, understanding. "Are you at least going to tell Garrus?" she asked.
Shepard frowned, gripping her mug, thoughtful, before finally shaking her head, determined. "No," she said, quiet but firm. "I honestly… I just… I don't think he needs to know."
"Shepard…" Liara started to say, but Shepard cut her off with another, more dogged shake of her head.
"Please, Liara," Shepard pleaded, her voice low, exhausted. "I've made my choice. I don't want to make this any harder on anyone else than it has to be. Garrus included."
"And what happens after that?" Liara asked, concerned, her brow furrowing gently again. "Do you think he's just never going to find out it happened at all if you don't tell him?"
"That's what I'm hoping," Shepard returned, honestly. "Once it's done, it's done. It's gone. And I don't ever want to speak about it again."
"If that's what you want, then I respect that," Liara told her, giving a solemn nod. "Just… please be sure it is really what you want. That's all I ask."
"I will," Shepard told her, wetting her lips. "I'm already giving it until after Thessia. You can't ask for much more than that."
"That's true," Liara conceded, softly, taking another sip of tea.
Shepard took a deep breath and held it as Hackett's image flickered into life in the vidcomm projection pit, trying to still her rapidly beating heart in preparation for the questions he was sure to ask concerning her most recent progress report. With Liara and EDI's help, she had managed to scrape together a fairly comprehensive mission statement detailing their undertaking with Leviathan, but she had left the ending notably vague, something Liara nor EDI had been able to fix. Hackett's expression was stern as he considered her, unmoving, his blue vidcomm projection flickering faintly as a bit of interference crossed the connection. It never ceased to amaze Shepard how the Admiral somehow managed to find the time and resources to communicate with her so regularly, even in the midst of the war-torn combat zone Earth had become and while hard at work overseeing the enormously important Crucible Project. Straightening her posture, she tucked her hands dutifully behind her back, lifting her head proudly and preparing for the worst.
"I finished reading your report," Hackett told her, straightforwardly. She waited for him to say more, to ask where the rest of the report was, but when he did not, she felt a bit of aching tension slowly begin to leave her, the rigidity in her spine relaxing as she allowed herself to stand normally, still clutching her hands apprehensively behind her back.
"The Alliance wanted more intelligence on the Reapers," Shepard informed him, frankly. "I'd say we got it."
"Our people will be studying it for years to come," Hackett confirmed, giving a short nod of approval. "They're already calling it the Leviathan Codex. It rewrites galactic history as we know it."
Shepard nodded in return, retrieving her hands from behind her back and tucking them more comfortably into the pockets of her hoodie. "Whatever else it means, it tells me the Reapers had a beginning," she told him, leaning her weight back onto one foot, relieving the pressure from her other foot momentarily. "And maybe now we'll provide them with an end."
"That's one way to look at it," Hackett agreed, amenably blunt. "I guess it's the only way. So go out there and make it happen." At this instruction, Shepard retrieved one hand from her pocket to quickly salute her superior, and Hackett gave a short nod of approval in return. "This is a big step in the right direction, Shepard," he added, his brow furrowing, solemn. "Good work."
"Thank you, Sir," Shepard answered, allowing her hand to drop back to her side.
Hackett gave another nod, this time more to himself than to her. "Hackett out," he told her, before severing the vidcomm connection.