Chapter Text
“Do what you must.”
Shepard walked toward the junction of the catalyst with all of the determination that she possessed. She didn’t hesitate when it came to the intersection, immediately veering to the red conduit on the right. She was going to blow this thing to hell without a second thought.
This war—the Reapers, Saren, the Illusive Man, the Alliance—had taken everything from her. Shepard had been on a solitary mission since that first shakedown run on Eden Prime years ago and she hadn’t been allowed to stop until it was complete. Not even for death. Thoughts of friends she lost burned in the back of her mind. Jenkins, Nihlus, Kaidan, Mordin, Legion, Thane, Anderson. Her heart ached for the “what ifs” and “could have beens” that had been stolen away from all of them.
She thought of Garrus, her best friend who could have been more. They had spent one wonderful night together before their Cerberus suicide mission. After they survived Shepard realized having a romantic relationship would interfere with the mission. It would make them lose focus, alter priorities, and hinder their ability to make necessary decisions. The didn't see each other for six months; she was stranded on Earth, and he went home to Palaven. Shepard broke things off as soon as they picked Garrus up on Menae, telling herself it was better that way. It was like ripping off a band-aid, though underneath it left a festering wound. She bore it like all of her other battle scars. He took it well, which is what she expected from her best friend. Things shifted back into their easy routine and they never spoke of it again.
Shepard was glad that Tali would be there to take care of Garrus now. Hopefully he would have some peace when Shepard completed this mission. It was an empty consolation.
Shepard raised her gun as she approached the conduit, her other hand clutching the bleeding wound in her side. Shepard transferred her waning strength into all of the vitriol she could muster, every bullet punctuating the conduit with the finality of a period at the end of the sentence. She emptied the entire clip into it and watched as the glass casing shattered. Time seemed to slow as she watched the energy erupt and she dropped to her knees, closing her eyes and waiting for it to overtake her. She felt a warm sensation as the air around her thrummed. Shepard took a deep breath. She accepted death, knowing all along that it would likely end this way. The Alliance had crafted her into a soldier above all else; a fine-tuned weapon to fulfill its purpose.
A tingling sensation crept along her body, up her arms, across her shoulders, down her back. It was everywhere, pulling at her. It felt wrong.
Shepard's eyes shot open to see what she could only describe as a tear in the space in front of her. She was too slow, reflexes failing as her life ebbed away, and she could do nothing to stop herself from being pulled into it. Shepard felt herself falling before she landed on hard ground, knocking the air from her lungs.
“Now! We must strip its defences. Wear it down!” a heavily accented voice yelled.
Shepard’s head felt heavy. She could hear the well-known sounds of battle happening on around her. She blinked her eyes a few times as she tried to clear her vision. Where the hell is this?
“Drink this,” a voice said as it handed her what felt like a glass bottle, “it will heal you.”
She didn’t have time to ask questions. Adrenaline and instinct took over as she rolled onto her back, trying to get herself off the ground. She downed the liquid, something horrendously bitter and unlike any kind of med she had ever encountered. It made her feel better, and she watched the skin on her side stitching itself back together. Her cybernetics were doing their part and she couldn’t help a smug smile. The Catalyst is a lying little shit, she thought.
A deep, demonic laugh rang out as she looked over her shoulder to see a massive creature. If this was a reaper it certainly was not one she had seen before. There was a massive green glow above it—the same kind of tear she had fallen through during the explosion. There were a number of people attacking the creature with what looked like biotics and swords? Shepard gave her head a shake, trying to get back in the game. She'd have to worry about the probable concussion later.
Her omnitool seemed to be down and she had no heads up display running. She reached for a gun from her mag holster before she remembering her armour was shot to shit. She didn’t see her Carnifex on the ground anywhere but she knew she had to do something. This looked like a losing battle with several soldiers lying on the ground either unconscious or dead.
"Biotics or bust,” she said aloud. Shepard ran into the fray, positioning herself directly in front of the beast. She didn’t notice any tech, though it seemed to be using some kind of electrical current as its weapon. She didn’t have time to think on it too much. She shot out a powerful singularity, pulling the beast off of its feet.
“What in the Maker’s name?” a voice near her gasped, belonging to a tall, dark-haired woman holding a shield and sword.
“We will take all the help we can get,” responded the man who charged in next to her.
Focusing her energy again, Shepard hit the creature with her most powerful biotic warp. It detonated and the creature reared back, dissolving apart into green energy as it was sucked up into the glowing tear above them. The man raised his left hand, green energy streaming into the space above them. She watched, breathing hard, as the space closed with a loud pop. There was a blinding flash of light and everything went dark.
She was in the forest again. The god-forsaken dark place where nightmares came to torment her. At least after so many visits she knew how to steel herself to it. Shepard started walking, unsure what she should be looking for. She wandered aimlessly as the voices haunted her, urging her forward. Was she finally dead? Had it all been some kind of strange end-of-life vision? She knew people said your life flashed before your eyes when you died, but this was something else entirely.
There was a clearing up ahead and she moved towards it. She saw two figures standing there and tried to call out to them. She stopped short as soon as she could see them.
“So is this the part where we…shake hands? Wasn’t sure about the protocol on reunions. Or if you even still felt the same way about me. The scars are starting to fade.”
Garrus, she thought longingly. And then she heard a familiar laugh as she realized that the other figure standing there was herself. A shadow of herself. A memory. Perhaps this was the flashing-in-front-of-your-eyes part of dying.
“I remember they drove you wild, but I can go out and get all new ones if it’ll help,” Garrus continued.
Shepard could feel a weight settling in the pit of her stomach as she remembered what came next. Remembered the look on his face…
"I appreciate everything you've been to me, Garrus. A friend, a lifesaver…and more. But right now I need the friend. I need you watching my back,” the memory Shepard said.
Shepard stepped toward them, reaching her hand out toward Garrus as he began speaking. “I understand. Distractions could be dangerous at a time like this.”
“You were never a distraction Garrus,” the memory Shepard lied.
“Well, whatever we were…I enjoyed it, Shepard. No regrets here.”
“Never.”
She watched as the two memory figures shook hands and then moved on to other topics of conversation.
“I’m sorry,” Shepard said aloud, her hand hovering mere inches from Garrus’ face.
Shepard could feel the bile rising in her throat as she tried to choke back tears. The memory faded away as she was left in the dark clearing of the burning forest. She fell to her knees and let out a yell of rage before sobs overcame her.