It had been a long while since Shepard had had any real amount of downtime, but even so she could not help but feel guilty as she lay on her back in bed, staring up at the passing starscape through the window built into the roof of her cabin. Her hamster had been let free from his cage, and now scurried around on the bed beside her, squeaking and snuffling as it pressed its pink whiskered nose to the sheets, inspecting its new environment with enthusiasm and wonder. Letting out a soft sigh, Shepard reached over towards her nightstand, picking up the miniature model of the Mako she had left sitting there and turning it over in her hands. Then, reaching down towards her distended stomach, she pushed her undershirt up to her breasts, starting to pass the model vehicle slowly along the curved line of her abdomen, smiling faintly as she did so. The hamster looked up in curious surprise at the sound of the squeaking wheels, and Shepard looked over at him in response, considering him for a moment, before reaching over and picking him up, setting him on top of the vehicle as she continued to roll it across the terrain of her stomach.
"Commander Shepard, you're such a good driver," she teased the rodent, who looked up at her with bulging, beady eyes, its whiskered nose twitching as it tried to figure out what was going on around it. "Where did you learn to drive, Commander? You should get a promotion."
As if on cue, the hamster gave a short squeak, before scuttling and tumbling over the side of the Mako, landing on its back on her exposed midsection. Shepard gave a short, surprised laugh in response, setting the model vehicle aside as she watched the hamster right itself, before it started to enthusiastically explore its new, unfamiliar territory. Its little clawed toes tickled her skin as the hamster scurried across her bare abdomen, pausing to perch at the highest point and clean its whiskered face before starting to move again. Sliding down the top of her stomach towards her face, it lingered for a moment in the hammock of her shirt stretched between her breasts, before turning around again and starting to make its way back up towards the peak of her stomach once more. "That's gonna be a baby," she told the hamster, sliding her hands across her stomach to cup the hamster between them at the navel, watching as it lifted its little pink nose into the air, sniffing, its whiskers twitching as its bulbous black eyes flicked all around the room, inspecting its surroundings. "I'm gonna be a mommy soon. What do you think about that?" In response, the hamster chirped, sniffing her hands, before starting to climb over them towards her feet and scurrying down the length of her leg, causing her to sit up in bed with a surprised laugh.
"Not so fast, smart guy," Shepard told him, scoldingly, scooping the hamster up again and causing it to give a small chirrup of protest. "What kind of no-good friend are you? Bailing as soon as I tell you I'm pregnant."
Just then, the sound of Joker's voice crackled on over the intercom, causing Shepard to look up towards the source of the sound, raising her brows in surprise at the unexpected interruption. "Commander, you've got a priority message from Admiral Hackett, requesting to come aboard," Joker informed her, straightforwardly.
"Permission granted," Shepard answered, quickly, swinging her legs out of bed and starting towards the hamster cage at the opposite end of the cabin. Prying off the lid of the cage, she dropped the hamster back inside, making sure his dish was full before closing the lid again and latching it securely.
"Aye, Commander," Joker agreed. "And, just so you know, he'll be on in about five. Might want to start heading up to the crew deck."
"Thanks, Joker," Shepard returned, turning to make her way towards the cabin bathroom. The intercom cut out again as soon as the bathroom door closed behind her, and she quickly grabbed the well-used dish of concealer from beside the sink, sighing heavily and running a frustrated hand back through her hair as she looked up at her sullen reflection in the bathroom mirror. She had taken to wearing makeup less and less in the past few months, mostly due to a lack of time to apply it, but also due to not thinking she really needed it. Now, as she passed a hand across her freckled cheek, she could not help but wince at how haggard and tired she looked in her reflection compared to the way she had looked when they had first started out, when she had first gotten back aboard the Normandy after departing from Anderson back on Earth so many months ago.
Her cheeks had gotten puffier, her jawline softer, while her neck had gotten thinner, almost skeletal in comparison, seeming to barely support her unseemly, overlarge head. Her nails had been chewed down to the quick in anxiety, and her hands had turned bright pink, speckled with unattractive white splotches, puffy, clumsy and swollen atop pale, skeletal wrists. Dark, obvious circles had formed under her eyes, belaying her appalling lack of sleep and making her look like a gaunt, dying goldfish, and she cringed as she twisted open the lid of the concealer, dabbing a healthy amount onto her fingers and starting to slather it under her eyes. She hoped the makeup would be able to hide at least some of the damage, but she doubted it would do anything to hide the other telltale signs that she had not been taking proper care of herself. Finishing with one eye, she frowned up at her reflection again, inspecting the deplorable job she had done covering the first dark circle and wondering if it would even be worth trying to cover up the other one in the same way. Then, letting out another heavy, put-upon sigh, she picked up her ampule of concealer again, dabbing an application under her second eye and starting to blend it in as well.
She figured it would be better to seem like she was making an effort than to look like she had completely given up on herself – even if, in reality, she had given up on her outward appearance long ago. Finishing up as best she could manage, she screwed the cap back on her concealer, tossing it aside next to the sink, and straightened her hoodie, making sure it covered her beltline and undone zipper. Then, giving one last, quick pass through her overgrown hair with her fingers, she turned away from the mirror, making her way out of the bathroom and towards the door of the cabin, heading for the central elevator.
Hackett was already boarding the Normandy by the time Shepard arrived on the navigation deck, and as soon as he spotted her exiting the elevator, he turned on his heel, making his way around the central starmap, all but ignoring the rest of her captivated crew as he came to stand at attention in front of her. Drawing his heels dutifully together, he hardly even seemed to notice how worn out she looked or how out of breath she was as he offered her a solemn, respectful nod of acknowledgement. "Commander," he greeted her, matter-of-factly.
"Admiral," Shepard answered, just as shortly, offering him a militaristic salute.
"Are you ready to bring the might of the galaxy to bear on the Reapers?" Hackett asked, returning the salute, before allowing his hand to drop sharply back to his side.
"Yes, Sir," Shepard confirmed, letting her hand fall away from attention as well, before reaching out to take his hand in a firm, familiar shake.
"Then let's make sure the fleets are ready," Hackett told her, returning the encouraging handshake. Turning to glance back towards Traynor, he raised his bushy brows, expectantly, watching as she pulled an official-looking report up on the screen of her station console.
"All fleets reporting in, Sir," Traynor confirmed, turning to look back at him and offering a curt, professional nod.
Hackett nodded in return, turning his attention away from the yeoman, before moving past Shepard to make his way up the steps of the podium at the head of the starmap, tucking his hands dutifully behind his back as every pair of eyes on the Normandy turned to face him in rapt attention. "Never before have so many come together from all quarters of the galaxy," Hackett began, speaking with determination. "But never before have we faced an enemy such as this. The Reapers will show us no mercy. We must give them no quarter. They willterrorize our populations. We must stand fast in the face of that terror." Just then, Shepard felt a jolt, as if something had pushed up against her from the inside, and she gasped, sharply, pressing a hand to the side of her stomach where the sudden disturbance had come from. Hackett turned on his podium at the sound, frowning back at her, concerned, but Shepard quickly followed up with a loud, dry, fake cough, using the hand not holding her stomach to cover her mouth with a civil fist. Seeming satisfied with this explanation, Hackett turned around on the starmap podium again, folding his hands more securely behind him as he took another deep breath, ready to go on.
"They will advance until our last city falls," he told the crew, resolutely. "But we will not fall. We will prevail. Each of us will be defined by our actions in the coming battle." Lifting his chin proudly, he looked out over the Normandy crew, addressing every eager face staring up at him, watching him, holding fast to his words. "Stand fast," he told them. "Stand strong. Stand together. Hackett out." Then, having finished his speech, he turned, descending the steps of the starmap podium, and moved over towards where Shepard still stood, her hands tucked anxiously behind her as she waited nervously for his inevitable approach. "You should really do something about that cough, Commander," Hackett told her, reaching out to touch her arm, indicating for her to come along with him. "Doctor Chakwas probably has a quick fix for it. You should take a quick trip down to the infirmary before you head out to the battlefield."
"Right," Shepard agreed, half-heartedly, tucking her hands warily into her pockets as she followed him through the halls of the Normandy, heading towards the war room.
"The solar fleets are ready to strike at the Reapers surrounding Earth," Hackett told her, returning quickly to the issue at hand as he passed around the central war hub, barely sparing a glance for the slowly-spinning hologram of the completed-looking Crucible. "While they keep the enemy engaged, you and Hammer ground forces can take London."
"London?" Shepard asked, turning to look at him, surprised. "Why aren't we hitting the Citadel directly?"
"Anderson can brief you on that," Hackett told her, coming to a stop in front of the vidcomm pit, causing Shepard to look up, hardly having noticed where they were heading. As Hackett reached forward, activating the incoming message signal, Anderson's spectral image flickered to life in the vidcomm pit, fizzling a few times before solidifying and taking a few wary steps forward towards the two of them. "Admiral, how are you holding up?" Hackett asked, tucking his hands behind his back.
Anderson sighed, clearly worn down, his military garb scuffed and threadbare as he glanced over his shoulder, anxious, as if expecting something to come up behind him at any moment. "We're ready to end this," he answered, honestly, before reaching forward towards his own console, not visible in the projection, and pressing a button, causing a blue holographic image of the Citadel to appear in the pit alongside him. "But as you can see, the station has closed itself since it appeared over London."
"Dammit," Shepard swore, crossing her arms over her chest as she frowned at the projected image. "Gotta get the arms open to dock the Crucible."
"Exactly," Hackett agreed, solemnly.
"But London is surrounded by Hades Cannons," Anderson countered, waving a hand, causing the projection of the Citadel to flicker out again. "Hammer transports can't land while they're active. A ground team will work to take out the Cannons using heavy weapons. Once they've taken care of that, Hammer can land and we'll set up a forward operations base."
"I still don't see how we're getting to the Citadel from London," Shepard admitted, making a face.
"The Reapers use a central beam to transport humans, alive and dead, to the Citadel," Anderson explained, reaching forward to his console to pull up another projected diagram. "From the FOB, Hammer will launch a full-out assault on the Citadel beam. Everyone who makes it that far will take the beam to the Citadel, then locate and activate the Citadel arm controls. That's where you come in, Commander. You'll be going in with that team."
"Once we see those arms, Shield Fleet will escort the Crucible to the Citadel," Hackett added, taking an assured step forward towards the vidcomm pit. "But timing will be critical. We don't have enough firepower to keep the Crucible safe for long."
"Nothing's ever easy," Shepard sighed, her frown deepening. "No reason it should start now."
"It's desperate," Anderson agreed, wearily. "I don't even want to guess at our odds. But—"
"But this is the only plan we have," Hackett cut over him, firmly, crossing his arms now, mimicking Shepard's motion. "If we wait, the Reapers bleed us slowly. Conventionally, we can't defeat the Reapers without the Crucible." Turning his attention towards Shepard then, he frowned at her, his expression grave. "Get the Citadel arms open, Commander," he instructed her. "Whatever the cost. We'll do the rest."
"Yes, Sir," Shepard acknowledged, offering him a curt, agreeing nod.
"Good luck," Hackett sighed, turning his attention towards Anderson again. "To all of us."
"Good luck to all of us," Anderson agreed, gravely, nodding in return. "Anderson out." And with that, he reached forward, pressing a button, causing the spectral projection to flicker once before disappearing from the vidcomm pit entirely.
As soon as Anderson had disappeared, Hackett frowned, grunting in concern, before letting out a short, sharp exhale and turning to look at Shepard again. He glanced down, giving her a quick once-over, before leaning in towards her and clearing his throat gently, getting her full attention. Shepard looked up in surprise at the motion, caught off guard, before leaning in towards him to hear what he had to say. "Commander, I'm not sure if you're aware," Hackett told her, speaking barely above a whisper, making sure only she could hear him. "But your fly is down. You might want to fix that." Then, having said his piece, he turned away from her again, tucking his hands behind his back as he made his way through the war room towards the rest of the Normandy, leaving her to stand alone in the vidcomm room in stunned, embarrassed silence.
Shepard had already laid out her armour on the bed by the time Liara made her way to the captain's cabin, and had since moved on to sorting out which pieces could be put on with the least amount of assistance. Moving up behind her at the bed, Liara watched over her shoulder in interest as she separated the pieces to one side of the bed or the other, pausing to consider a few of them before making the decision of which way to sort them. Her face was drawn in concentration, her brow furrowed into a hard line as she stared in intense deliberation at a pair of shoulder guards, as if the decision on how to group them was the most important thing in the world. "How did the meeting with Hackett go?" Liara asked, speaking quietly so as not to startle Shepard, unsure if she knew she was there or not.
Shepard scoffed in response, nonplussed, setting down the shoulder guards and picking up her helmet instead, turning it around in her hands until the visor faced her, showing her worn reflection. "Hackett thinks I'm a joke," she answered, darkly. "Solara started kicking in the middle of his speech, and then he saw my pants were unzipped… he must think I've lost my mind, Liara. Or maybe he just thought I was drunk or something, I don't know." Dropping her helmet back onto the bed again, she picked up one of her armoured gloves, pulling it on, before picking up the other one to pull onto her opposite hand, making sure it fit securely. Her hands felt hot and swollen, and the gloves were itchy and uncomfortable pressed so tight against her skin, but she figured the swelling might go down a bit if she just refused to think about it. "All I do know is that nothing good could have come from that meeting," she added, picking up her undersuit and giving the stiff material a good shake out, before lifting a foot, preparing to step into it for one last time. "He's probably talking to my mom right now, telling her her daughter is losing her marbles over on the Normandy."
Liara smiled, reaching out a hand to help steady her friend as Shepard slid one leg through an undersuit foot hole, and then the other, pulling it up to her hips with a twisting yank. "You called her Solara," Liara informed her, her voice barely above a conspiratorial murmur.
Shepard hesitated, pausing in donning her undersuit, as if realizing this for the first time herself. Then, letting out a short huff of breath, she pulled the suit up her form a bit more, giving a soft grunt as she did so, sliding her arms through the arm-holes. "Well, that's her name," she answered, quietly, shifting the suit up to her neck, trying to ignore the obvious bulge in the front of the material as she did so. "I don't see why I shouldn't call her by it."
"I know," Liara answered, fairly, moving up behind Shepard to gather the material of her undersuit together, preparing to zip it up again. "But—" Letting out a grunt of effort, she yanked the undersuit zipped upward, her fingers turning purple with effort as the zipper stuck at the small of Shepard's back. "You're going to need to suck in," she told her. "A lot. Better yet, put up your hair in a ponytail so you don't have to hold it and try pushing in with your hands. That might help."
"This is ridiculous, Liara," Shepard huffed, reaching down to her nightstand to grab a rubber band from the drawer. Pulling up her hair in a messy ponytail, she sucked in a deep breath, feeling her toes digging into the floor of her cabin as she pressed in on her stomach, waiting anxiously for Liara to finish with her zipper. Her concentration was quickly broken, however, as soon as she heard the disconcerting sound of ripping material coming from the back of the suit, and, letting her breath out in a heavy huff, she turned, trying to see what had happened. Liara swore quietly at the setback, sucking agitatedly on one of her sore purple fingers, watching as Shepard let the undersuit slide back down her shoulders to examine the damage that had been done. Pulling the zipper around to visibility, she realized to her discontent that the material near the small of her back had torn clean away from the zipper in the attempt to zip it up over her bump. "Fuck," Shepard swore, sliding her fingers through the hole, before letting the suit drop from her hands again. "This was the men's cut. This was the biggest one I had. What am I supposed to do now?"
Liara frowned, glancing down at the array of armour spread out across the bed, before her attention was drawn to an open crate still sitting, nearly forgotten, in a corner of the room. Moving over towards it, she knelt down beside the crate, reaching inside and pulling out several pieces of larger armour, setting them down beside her on the floor. "The men's abdominal and spine guards seem to be larger than the female counterpart," she observed, pointing to the pieces as Shepard came over to stand beside her, the top half of her undersuit still hanging awkwardly around her waist. "Presumably that means they'll afford you a larger region of protection. You could wear your ripped undersuit and couple it with these. No one will even notice it's torn, and you'll get an extra amount of protection for your…" She paused, indicating awkwardly to the area around her middle, before letting her hands drop back to her lap, staring up at Shepard's exposed baby bump. "Midriff," she finished, shortly.
"Men's armour?" Shepard asked, frowning as she propped her hands against her waist, staring down at the pieces laid out on the floor around Liara. "Liara, that armour is faulty. I got it half off specifically because it was defective. I might as well just paint a bullseye on my chest for the Reapers to aim at."
"Well, what do you suggest we do, Shepard?" Liara asked, folding her hands patiently in her lap and looking up at Shepard, expectantly. "I'm not entirely thrilled with the idea of you wearing defective men's armour, either, but there isn't exactly a depot nearby we can stop at to get you a replacement. Before, we could have stopped by the Citadel, but now…" Trailing off, she held her hands out, shrugging, before returning them to her lap with a soft, drained exhale. "I'm open to alternatives," she added, optimistically. "Perhaps we could ask Ashley to borrow one of her undersuits instead. She's busty and tall. It might work."
"Sure, she's busty," Shepard agreed, discouraged. "But she's also got one of the smallest waists on the Normandy. Liara, that's…" Letting out a long, drawn-out exhale, she ran her hand back through her bangs, gripping her short, messy ponytail, before letting her hand drop back to her side again and looking down at the armour spread out across the floor, defeated. "Does wearing the male abdominal plate mean I'll have to wear the entire men's suit?" she asked, pointing to the piece sitting nearest to Liara's knees. "I don't think I'm that tall."
"Just the breastplate, probably," Liara told her, reassuringly, pulling the hefty plate out of the box and laying it beside her on the floor of the cabin. "The male abdominal and spine guards likely won't fit with the female breastplate, but they should fit just fine with the female pelvic guard." Turning around to face Shepard again, she let out a soft sigh, leaning one tired elbow against the edge of the armour crate. "This will be the last time you have to worry about wearing armour while you're… not your normal size," she told her, frankly, still trying her hardest to be delicate about the whole situation. "And honestly, out there in the field, fighting Reapers… I don't think anyone's going to make a big deal about it if you look a little strange. Just tell them your other armour broke. It's only the truth, after all."
"I know it is," Shepard answered, exasperated. "I know, but… I just… I still…" She faltered, discouraged, trailing off and fidgeting distractedly with the edge of the undersuit still hanging awkwardly from her waist. Then, giving a short, sharp, frustrated huff, she let the undersuit drop back to her knees, holding out her hands towards Liara instead. "Fine," she conceded, bluntly. "Fine. Just… give me the damn breastplate, Liara. And the other thing, too. I'll put it on." Accepting the hefty armour plating handed to her with a soft grunt, Shepard turned back towards the bed again, setting it down, before starting to pull her undersuit back up over her arms and torso. "If this plan goes to hell, just know I'm blaming you," she told Liara, glancing back towards her as the asari got to her feet again, preparing to zip her up the back.
"As long as you both come back alive, I don't mind being blamed for it," Liara answered, evenly, offering Shepard a soft, knowing smile. "Now suck in as much as you possibly can. Let's get you suited up."
The ground assault on the Hades Cannons had been brutal. Hammer forces had done most of the blessed heavy lifting, going in ahead of the rest of the squadron to knock out the worst of the Reaper heavy artillery, but with their shuttle crippled by a Reaper tracker beam attack, it was up to Shepard and her team to head down for the rescue. Reaper forces had closed in quickly on the remaining soldiers on the ground, and Shepard had to avert her gaze from the sight of a still-kicking man being torn to pieces by a group of howling Cannibals as she made her way through the wreckage, keeping herself from being sick all over the front of her armour. Gruesome sights like these had become almost commonplace for her during the last three years fighting the Reapers, but her stomach had grown unbearably sensitive lately, making it difficult to concentrate as she made her way through the blackened rubble towards where a wounded soldier sat coughing against a rock outcropping. She figured the shapeless mass of rock might at one time have been part of a building, but now, like everything else in the barren, sullied wasteland of Earth, it was difficult to tell.
The sound of a far-off Banshee's screech reverberated in Shepard's ears as she crouched down beside the wounded soldier, her teeth setting firmly on edge as she hoisted him up to his feet, before looping his arm around her strong shoulders. The soldier murmured an unintelligible thanks in her ear as they both looked up towards the darkened sky, waiting for their rescue shuttle to come back around. "Anybody, come in, we need extraction," Shepard hissed into her earcomm, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to draw attention to herself or her wounded compatriot. The radio signal crackled inarticulately in response, causing her to wince at the sharp noise in her ear, before the Banshee's scream resounded again, closer this time, causing her to turn on her heel, feeling the hair on the back of her neck start to stand up, a cold chill trickling down her spine as she tried to figure out which direction the unearthly noise was coming from. She barely noticed as Ashley and Vega came up to stand beside her on the field, marshalling a painfully small group of Hammer soldiers behind them, some more wounded than others.
"We've got company," Vega breathed, gripping his gun more tightly to his chest.
Frowning worriedly, Shepard pressed her fingers back into her in-ear comm, hoping to get a stronger signal on the second try. "This is Commander Shepard, are there any Alliance personnel in the vicinity?" she insisted, a bit louder this time, only to be met again with fragmented white noise. Just then, the sound of guttural howling reached their ears, and Shepard looked up, her eyes wide, feeling her blood start to run cold at the sound. Loud, heavy footsteps shook the ground under their feet as a hulking, lopsided form began to rise over the crest of the battlefield, until finally, the Brute appeared, its massive clawed arm held up over its head as it let out another rattling snarl. The creature's piercing blue eyes honed in quickly on the group, and it let out a colossal, howling roar, before starting to propel itself across the field towards where they stood, hoisting itself along the ground like a giant, morbid gorilla on its enormous, freakish arms. Shepard blanched, feeling her insides turn to ice, nearly dropping her wounded ward in her haste to grab her Marauder from the maglock at her back. However, the creature was already to them by the time she drew her gun, and she did not even have time to fire it before the Brute reached out, knocking the gun from her hand, and stepped down hard on it with a sickening whine of the weapon, crushing it into useless pieces.
Shepard felt her mind go blank with panic at the sight of her trusty weapon in fragments, but did not even have time to think before she ducked another slash from the Brute, dragging the wounded soldier with her as she made a dash for the nearest cover. Pulling the soldier in close beside her, she jammed her fingers in her in-ear comm. "We need a pickup!" she shouted, her voice breaking as the Brute lashed out towards her again, knocking a piece off the top of the wall where she and the soldier were hiding. The Brute let out a guttural howl, frustrated at missing its target, stomping the ground so hard she could feel her teeth rattling in her head. "We need a pickup NOW!" she shouted. "RIGHT NOW! RIGHT NOW!"
"This is Hammer team," a familiar, reassuring voice suddenly crackled back over the in-ear comm. "Prepare for extraction."
No sooner had the message come through over the radio when the heartening sound of shuttle engines reached Shepard's ears, and she looked up in unrepressed relief to see a worn, blue shuttle streaking down through the sky towards their position. The shuttle was quick to settle into a hover a few yards away from where she sat, and when the door slid open, she saw a familiar-looking, silver-haired soldier crouched at the edge of the shuttle door, holding out his hands towards her, beckoning for her to come closer. Hoisting herself unceremoniously to her feet against the wreckage of the wall, Shepard made a limping dash for the door, dragging the wounded soldier along behind her, until she finally made it to the shuttle, handing the soldier over and watching as he was helped eagerly inside. Once the wounded combatant was safely inside the Kodiak, the silver-haired soldier turned his attention back towards Shepard, holding out his hands towards her again, waiting for her to board. Gripping hold of the soldier's outstretched arms, Shepard held on tightly, allowing him to heave her up and over the edge of the Kodiak with a grunt of effort, before dragging her into the shuttle as well and depositing her unceremoniously onto the carriage floor.
Vega and Ashley were quick to follow, along with their wounded wards, easily making the jump into the shuttle before the door closed tightly behind them and the vehicle gave a sharp whine, accelerating upward into the sky. The Brute's howl could be heard behind them, growing fainter the higher they flew, as well as the sound of the Reaper creatures' plasma bullets pinging off the shuttle's protective shell. Shepard lay on the floor of the Kodiak, pressing her palms into her eyes as she tried hard to catch her breath, before letting her hands drop back to her sides again, leaving her staring up at the metal ceiling of the shuttle. Seeing her odd state of affairs, the silver-haired soldier moved over to her again, crouching down to bend over her, curiously, staring down into her face with an uncertain, crooked smile. "You okay?" he asked, raising one shaggy brow.
Shepard looked up at him, pausing a moment, considering his oddly familiar face, before letting out a long, drawn-out breath and shrugging her plated shoulders. "I'm alive," she answered, frankly, not bothering to get up from the floor as she spoke. "That's about as good as I can guarantee right now."
"That you are, Commander," Anderson's cheerful voice suddenly piped up from a far corner of the shuttle, causing Shepard to look up with a start, only to find him leaning over her, smiling down into her face. Holding out a friendly hand, Anderson pulled her up into a sitting position, and from there helped her back up onto her feet, allowing her a moment to regain her equilibrium. "I knew you wouldn't let me down, Shepard," he told her, reassuringly.
"It's good to see you," Shepard answered, gripping his hand and pulling him into a short, one-armed hug. Anderson returned the hug, just as warmly, but it did not take long for Shepard to quickly realize her mistake and pull away from him again, hoping her moment of forgetfulness had not given her away.
Anderson did not seem to have noticed anything, however, as he merely offered her a deep, warm chuckle, giving her hand one final, friendly shake before letting go of it to take hold of one of the overhead handlebars. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he told her, giving her a quick, amicable once-over. Then, pausing, his brow furrowed faintly, his gaze vacillating as it passed over her breastplate, moving up to her face and then down again, as if unsure he had seen correctly the first time. "Men's armour?" he asked, interested. Shepard faltered at this, a bit confused, until Anderson nodded towards her attire and she looked down, realizing what he was talking about. Looking back up at him again, she offered him a curt nod, hoping that by saying nothing she might quell the topic before it could go any further, but Anderson did not seem interested in pursuing the matter, merely giving a short, attentive grunt in response. "Interesting choice," he told her, shortly, before returning his attention to her face again, finished with the topic of conversation.
"How're we looking?" Shepard asked, reaching up to take hold of one of the overhead handles, barely able to contain a sense of overwhelming relief.
Anderson grunted again, steeling his footing as the shuttle gave a turbulent shudder. "Now that the heavy air defences are dealt with, Hammer can land," he answered, matter-of-factly.
"And not a moment too soon," the silver-haired soldier agreed, causing Shepard to glance back over her shoulder towards him.
"What's left of the resistance is holding the forward operating base," Anderson added, his bushy brow furrowing, his expression turning grave. "But the Reapers are countering already. Once we regroup, it's going to be up to Hammer to take up the fight."
"It must have been brutal here," Shepard told him, frowning. "Cut off from the rest of the Alliance."
"It's been touch and go from day one," Anderson admitted, his grip on the overhead handlebar tightening as the shuttle rocked under their feet again, causing them to sway with the motion. "But once we figured out the Reapers were focusing on the major centres, it became easier to avoid direct contact."
"Until London," the silver-haired soldier put in.
"Yeah," Anderson agreed, solemnly. "We held back as long as we could, sending in recon teams… lost a lot of good men planning this attack. But with experienced soldiers like Lieutenant Zabaleta, and knowing you'd bring us help… we held on."
"Zabaleta?" Shepard asked, surprised, turning around to face the silver-haired soldier standing behind her head on. "Lieutenant Ernesto Zabaleta? From the SSV Einstein?"
"The same," Zabaleta agreed, offering her a worn, toothy half-smile.
"I thought I recognized you from somewhere," Shepard admitted, frowning faintly at the revelation. "Just couldn't quite place where. Now I know." In truth, the last time she had seen Zabaleta, he had been traumatized, intoxicated, and homeless, begging for spare credits on the Citadel to pay for his next meal. To see him here now, looking like this, clean-shaven, bright-eyed, full-faced, and back in military garb, was almost too startling for her to register.
Zabaleta nodded agreeably, his tired, crooked smile widening in response to her look of surprise. "Didn't expect to see me, huh?" he asked, reading her expression. Letting out a soft, hoarse chuckle, he looked down towards his feet, his hand tapping distractedly against the butt of the gun at his belt. "Well, you and your mom, you did me a world of good," he told her, honestly, shaking his head. "I went to Veterans Affairs on the Citadel like you told me, and they helped me get my life turned around. At first it was mostly just placebo stuff, y'know, things to make me not think about what happened on Mindoir…" Sucking in a deep breath, he paused, thoughtful, before looking up at her again and raising his bushy eyebrows. "But after that, I started getting some real help," he added, optimistically. "Started talking to a psychiatrist about my PTSD, going to AA meetings to deal with my alcoholism… and once I'd gotten a year of sobriety under my belt, your mom talked to Admiral Hackett, and he let me join back on with the Alliance under a probationary period. Once that was up and I proved my mettle… they let me come back full time. Just in time to help you fight back the Reapers, Commander."
Reaching down to his belt then, Zabaleta shifted his ammo pouch aside, drawing up a small, faded silver keychain attached to his belt loop and holding it up for her to see, proudly. "Two years sober," he told her, tilting the little silver '2' so it caught the dim glint of the shuttle's carriage lights. "And counting."
"Do you think you'll be okay out here?" Shepard asked, warily, making a face, gripping the overhead handlebar tighter as the shuttle rocked under their feet again. "Mindoir was bad, but this is… something else."
"Mindoir was my worst nightmare," Zabaleta returned, solemnly, letting the keychain fall back to his belt again. "Millions of miles from Earth, surrounded by aliens, trapped in cages with nowhere to run, and the screaming…" Faltering, he trailed off, his hand moving to his head as he stared at the floor of the shuttle, his breathing practiced and even as he tried to settle himself from the thought of the nightmare he had left behind. Then, after a long moment, he took a final, deep breath in, before looking up at Shepard again, now more determined than ever. "Comparatively, this is… hell," he told her, honestly, speaking quieter now. "But it's hell I've seen before. I'm on home turf now. I've got a gun in my hand, and I'm free. This is what I'm good at, Commander. And until I prove unsuitable for service, I'd like it if you'd give me a chance to prove I can help you just as well as any other soldier on your team."
"Zabaleta's one of my best men, Shepard," Anderson told her, getting her attention and offering a reassuring nod in Zabaleta's direction. "He's held up remarkably well, to his credit, and offered invaluable strategic support. If it wasn't for him and the rest of the resistance, well… we'd all be dead in the water."
"Anderson's just being modest," Zabaleta returned, giving a soft huff of a diffident chuckle. "He's the real reason any of us are still alive."
"Let's not start handing out medals just yet," Anderson answered, waving a dismissive hand at the compliment. "This fight's just getting started, and Hammer better be ready for it."
"They didn't start out together, but they're ready to stand side by side and win this war," Shepard answered, glancing back towards the small group of injured Hammer soldiers huddled in the corner of the shuttle. All of them were watching the conversation eagerly, their eyes trained on Shepard and Anderson, silent but attentive.
"Good," Anderson returned, honestly, offering a curt nod. "That's what it's gonna take."
"We'll get it done, Anderson," Shepard assured him. Anderson nodded again in response, wanting to believe her, before turning his gaze away from the small group to stare longingly out the window of the shuttle. Just as he did, Shepard felt another jolt from inside her armour, pressing sharply up against the side of her stomach, and she gasped, the reaction involuntary, before quickly shutting her mouth again, swallowing back her breath and stifling her shock. Vega looked up in surprise at the sound, but Shepard simply shook her head, indicating to a large, vague area on her ribcage with her free hand. "Bruise," she told him, speaking quietly. Vega nodded in response, understanding, before dropping his gaze to the floor of the shuttle again, not giving her unusual reaction any more thought. Letting out her breath in a long, relieved sigh, Shepard turned her attention back towards Anderson again, feeling her heart pounding wildly in her chest as she watched him staring out the window, lost in thought.
"I was born in London," Anderson suddenly spoke up again, his voice soft, almost distant as he watched the passing scenery, his brow furrowing faintly at the sight of the monotonous rubble below.
Shepard raised her brows, intrigued, turning to face him fully now, trying to ignore the twinge of panic lingering at the back of her mind as she did so. This last kick had been a fluke, with Anderson distracted by the sight of war-torn London, but if her baby were to kick again, she was not certain she would be able to cover it up as successfully as she had before. "Really?" she asked, interested, hoping to keep his focus on anything but her.
Anderson nodded, still seeming completely absorbed by the cityscape for a moment. Then, turning to look at her again, his expression cleared, steeling instead into one of determination. "The entire galaxy, united," he said, soberly. "Too bad it took the Reapers to bring us together."
"Shepard's the one that brought them together," Ashley corrected, causing Shepard to look back towards her, barely able to contain a small, guilty smile.
"That's exactly what I meant," Anderson agreed, offering a confirming nod. "I know you didn't like leaving, Shepard. But no one could have accomplished what you've done."
"It's good to be back home," Shepard told him.
"There's the FOB," Zabaleta informed them, moving across the length of the carriage to peer out the tiny side window. Anderson turned at the announcement as well, his dark eyes narrowing as he looked out the window past Zabaleta's shoulder, watching the approaching landscape.
"Looks good," Anderson consented. "Give Hammer the all-clear." Then, steeling his grip on the overhead handlebar, Anderson watched out the window of the shuttle as the Kodiak settled into a dusty descent, before finally landing with a jostle on the rocky, war-torn ground. The door of the shuttle lifted open with a hiss, allowing its passengers to get out, and as it did so, a new, unfamiliar soldier approached them, holding his gun eagerly at the ready as he looked between their sombre faces.
"Admiral," the soldier greeted Anderson eagerly. "We set up a command centre in the building over there." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards a nearby building, causing Anderson to glance over towards it before returning his attention to the soldier again, approving.
"Looks like we've still got groups coming in," Anderson informed him, solemnly.
The soldier nodded in return, just as grimly, as if he were already well aware of this news. "Yes, sir," he answered, making a quick check of his weapon, ensuring it was still fully charged. "But not as many as we'd hoped."
"Hmm," Anderson frowned, turning his gaze downward, thoughtful for a moment. Then, looking up towards Shepard again, he took a short, sharp breath, offering her a curt, indicative nod of his head. "Come see me when you're ready, Shepard," he told her, resolutely. Then, turning away from her, he began to move in the direction of the building the soldier had indicated earlier. Shepard watched him walk away for a moment, her brow furrowing faintly as she observed his retreating back, before she turned her attention outward towards the bleak city view. She hardly even noticed as Zabaleta exited the shuttle, coming to stand beside her as she looked out over the war-torn landscape, her expression solemn as she took it all in, barely recognizing it as Earth.
"Could really go for a drink right now," Zabaleta commented, his voice barely loud enough for her to hear, causing Shepard to look up at him, startled, only to find him grinning over at her like a knowing, worn-down Cheshire cat. "Only joking, Commander," he told her, earnestly, offering a soft, hoarse chuckle at her expression. "Just making sure you're paying attention." Then, turning back towards the battlescarred cityscape, he took a deep breath in, holding it for a moment, before letting it out in a long, low, solemn exhale. "The fighting here has been some of the worst on the planet," he told her, his tone completely serious now. "It looks bad, but there's still hope. And… you're here. It'll do the troops good to see you. Bolster their resolve."
"I'm just a soldier like them," Shepard returned, frowning as she looked back over the bleary landscape, hardly daring to believe that this had once been someone's home – her home.
"You might see yourself like that," Zabaleta told her, frankly, indicating out towards the gathered troops. "But they don't. Like it or not, Commander, you're a hero to these men and women. Don't discount the effect that can have on them." Pausing then, he took in another deep, filling breath, holding it for a moment, thoughtfully, before finally letting it out in a long, tired sigh. "I better go meet up with my battalion," he told her, offering her a solemn nod. "I'll see you at the command centre."
"See you around," Shepard agreed, half-heartedly, before turning and watching as Zabaleta began to walk away in the same direction Anderson had disappeared to.
The forward base of operations was about as bleak as Shepard had expected it to be – the entire thing was encased in what once had likely been a city block, but which now looked like nothing more than a haggard, barren ruin. The narrow, cobbled streets were littered with debris knocked away from the nearby buildings, with broken, abandoned children's toys and shattered window glass lining the sidewalks and gutters, piled up so high it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. The glass in the street had long been ground to a fine powder from the many armoured boots that had passed over it, causing the thoroughfare to glint against the wan floodlights stationed all along the base, giving it an almost otherworldly glow. Shepard dragged her feet as she walked, staring at the dirty ground, her fingers drumming distractedly against the butt of the rarely-used Carnifex tucked into her belt. With Hammer attempting to regroup and restrategize after the attack on the Hades Cannons, it had given her a good deal of downtime until the next push forward that she had no idea what to do with.
Coming to a stop in the middle of the street, Shepard looked up, taking a deep breath of sooty London air as she inspected her surroundings, half aware. She stopped short when her gaze fell on a familiar figure crouched near the far corner of the street, near one of the main housing units, and she frowned, a bit surprised, before starting to make her way over towards the preoccupied, armoured woman. "Miranda," Shepard commented, causing Miranda to look up at the sound of her name. When she saw who it was who had addressed her, however, she offered Shepard a small, knowing smile, before returning her attention to her armour and starting to fiddle with it again.
"Commander," Miranda answered, evenly, giving the locking mechanism on her boot another quick tweak before moving her attention up towards her calf-guard. "Hope you don't mind me crashing this little party of yours." Finished adjusting her calf-guard, she stood straight again, propping her hands thoughtfully on her hips as she gave Shepard a quick once-over, noting the odd change of armour but deciding not to say anything about it as she returned her attention to Shepard's face. "I got a few sideways looks from Alliance brass when I offered to help in the field," she added, letting out a soft, unsurprised huff of humourless laughter. "I figure they can't afford to be choosy at this point."
"I'm glad you made it out," Shepard told her, offering her a short, affirmative nod. Then, pausing, she frowned a bit, glancing over her shoulder before returning her attention to Miranda. "Where's…?"
"Matti is with Oriana back on the Normandy," Miranda answered, holding up a hand to cut her off. "We had a small talk after you left… we've decided to keep her after all. We figured she'd do best living with Oriana, all things considered, but… I'm still allowed to visit, from time to time." Dropping her hand back to her hip, she hooked her thumb in her ammo belt, offering a short shrug and a quick, sad half-smile. "I'd be her aunt, I suppose," she added. "Or something like it. We haven't quite figured out the details yet, but she's still very young. We figured we had some time to work it out once the war was over… granted we both survive the bloody thing." Pausing then, she faltered a bit, her gaze falling from Shepard's face as she thought about this morbid statement. "The important thing is that Ori survives, so she can look after the baby," she admitted, thoughtfully, reaching up a hand to rub at the side of her chin with her thumb. "I don't really have plans to die, but… you can never know for certain in these things, am I right?" Letting her hand drop back to her side again, she paused, considering this, before finally letting out a soft, tired sigh, resting her free hand against her hip as she dug the toe of her heeled armour boot anxiously into the rocky ground, causing it to kick up a small cloud of dust.
"You know, Shepard," she said, speaking quieter now. "If we come back from this at all, everything will be… different. You know that, right?"
Shepard frowned, taken aback by this unusual statement, before crossing her arms across her chest, determined. "Of course everything will be different," she admitted, causing Miranda to look up at her again, intent. "But it will be on our terms. We've been running until now, Miranda. It has to stop. You have to believe we're not done yet."
Miranda paused, considering this, before finally letting out another soft breath and nodding along with the sentiment. "I understand," she answered, evenly. "And, listening to you… I can believe that."
"Good," Shepard answered. "And, Miranda… be careful."
"I will," Miranda told her. "I promise. And… you too, Shepard. You've got a lot left to take care of after this war is over. And… now." Having said this, she paused, her pretty brow furrowing faintly in worry, as if she had somehow managed to forget until just that moment that Shepard was still pregnant. Taking a step closer to Shepard, she glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one was listening in on their conversation, before clearing her throat gently and taking a breath, leaning in to speak to her in confidence. "Have you… told him yet?" she asked, quietly. "About…" She faltered, trailing off, biting down anxiously on her plush lower lip before tilting her head indicatively towards Shepard's abdomen. Shepard looked down, a bit surprised, before looking back up at Miranda again, her hand passing distractedly over her plated stomach as she frowned, letting out a low, heavy sigh.
"No," she answered, truthfully, all but feeling Miranda judging her as soon as the word passed her lips. "I didn't, I haven't… I haven't had a chance. There wasn't an opportunity. Every time I tried, I…" She paused, stopping short, anxiously wetting her lips as she looked down towards her stomach again, her frown deepening with frustration at her own excuses. "It almost, it feels… too late, now," she finally admitted, her voice low, her fingers tapping pensively against the curved, armoured line of her abdominal guard. "Like… there was a point where I could have told him, and it would have been… but it's passed, it's gone, now it's… now he'd just…" Stopping again, she took a deep breath in, sucking in on her lips, before letting it out again, slowly, her breathing ragged as her hand came to rest flat on her stomach, thoughtful and distracted. "It's not just a pregnancy anymore," she said, her brows furrowing together. "It's… a baby. Four and a half months, that's like… that's not just finding out, Miranda. That's halfway through the entire thing. Telling him now, when I'm this far along… it would be like telling him… saying that…"
She paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath, feeling her eyes start to sting with resentment as her free hand came to rest on her hip, disappointed in her own human failings. "Whatever input he might have had, whatever experience he might have wanted to have with it… I took it away," she said, her voice quiet, trying hard to keep it from shaking with resentment. "I did it intentionally. I kept it from him, because I was too scared, too… spineless to say something about it in a timely manner. I didn't want to keep the baby, not at all… not at first, but by the time I did, by the time I realized that… it was too late. I was too far along, and I didn't want to have to explain myself. To him… to anyone." Looking up at Miranda then, she let out a trembling breath, her expression drawn in a hard, indignant frown as she fought to push back the lump of self-loathing that had lodged itself in her throat. "I was a coward," she spat, hatefully. "I took this from him, I made bad decisions he might not have wanted me to make… and there's nothing he can do about it, because I didn't include him. I didn't include him on purpose, Miranda. Telling him about it now… it would be like spitting in his face."
"As opposed to telling him after the battle?" Miranda pressed, speaking in an equally low hiss, thrusting her hand back towards the adjoining building. "After you've put yourself in irreversible danger? As opposed to telling him after the baby is actually born? Surprise, Garrus, you're a daddy now – four and a half months after the Battle for Earth!" Scoffing, she dropped her hand to her side again, no longer trying to hide her disapproval. "Do you think he's not going to do the math?" she asked, harshly. "He's not stupid, Shepard. He's going to figure it out one way or another, and when he does, he's going to be beyond upset you didn't tell him sooner."
"Which is why I've been putting it off for so long," Shepard insisted, looking up at Miranda again, starkly. "I knew he'd be upset with me, and I didn't… I didn't want to have to deal with that. Our relationship has always been…" She paused, trying to find the right word for it. "Questionable," she finally decided. "You know that. When I first got pregnant, we were barely even friends, and…" She trailed off, pursing her lips, swallowing back hard as a knot of anxiety began to tie itself in her throat, making it difficult to breathe or even swallow. That last part was an exaggeration and she and Miranda both knew it, but Shepard was far too flustered and angry to bother with being entirely accurate. "I… felt her kicking earlier today," she suddenly added, almost as a surprised afterthought. "Before I headed out… when Hackett was addressing us on the Normandy. I felt her kicking for the first time then, and… I honestly felt like I was going to be sick." Pressing an anxious hand to her stomach, she took a deep breath in, making a face, as if expecting the baby inside to kick again at any moment and preparing for the worst. "I was so scared, Miranda," she told her, barely daring to speak above a worried whisper. "I'm still scared. I'm so scared of anyone finding out. She's alert now, though, she's… she's alive. It's different now, it's different, and it's… just so…"
Looking down towards her stomach again, her brow furrowed even deeper as her second hand moved to join her first, pressed protectively against her abdomen. "It's terrifying," she said, exhaling deeply, as if almost too frightened to believe her own words. "It's a living thing in there, Miranda. It's not just a clump of cells anymore— it's my daughter. It's my baby. My little girl."
"Has she moved any more after that?" Miranda asked, fascinated, reaching out a hand and moving forward towards Shepard to feel the baby kick. Shepard panicked at the sight, taking a step back and quickly waving Miranda away, before looking up past her anxiously, afraid someone might have seen their display and figured out something was amiss. Miranda took a step back in response, withdrawing her hand and holding it against her chest as if it had been burned. "Sorry," she murmured, barely above an embarrassed whisper. "Didn't mean to give you away. I wasn't thinking. I apologize."
"It's okay," Shepard assured her, letting out a soft, anxious exhale. "I wasn't thinking, either." Glancing once more over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation, she turned her attention back towards Miranda, solemn. "She has, though," she added. "Kicked again after that. Once, on the shuttle ride over with Anderson. Nearly gave me away, but everyone was busy thinking about other things, I guess."
"Lucky for you," Miranda conceded. Crossing her arms, she sighed, heavily, her brow furrowing darkly as her gaze came to settle on Shepard's stomach, troubled. "You could still bow out gracefully, you know," she told her, her voice low. "You could tell Anderson you twisted your ankle or something. Nobody would even ever have to know the real reason. Going in with the ground team…" Her frown deepened, her hands curling into anxious fists against her thin upper arms as she wet her lips, letting out a short, restless huff of breath. "You could get hurt," she told her, concernedly. "Or worse, killed. And nobody knows what that beam could do to you – if you manage to get there."
"We'll get there, Miranda," Shepard assured her, her hand coming to rest on the butt of her Carnifax.
Looking up at her again, Miranda paused, surprised, before raising one curious, sculpted eyebrow. "We?" she asked, pointedly.
Shepard hesitated, taken aback at having been called out, before clearing her throat and looking downward towards her feet again. "Well… me," she amended, quietly. "I'll get there. And when I do…" She paused again, frowning faintly, before taking in a deep, thoughtful breath. "I don't know what I'll do," she admitted, looking up at Miranda again. "Take Earth back, I guess."
"That's as good a plan as any," Miranda conceded, offering her a faint, forced smile in return.