Chapter Text
Some say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. Shepard had already died once, and that had proven false. Yet, as they drag theirself towards the glass prison of red energy, a single bullet left in the barrel of their gun, they had to laugh. To be brought back just to sacrifice themself again.
Perhaps it was the melancholy of not being able to see their crew - no, their friends - again. Or maybe they were hallucinating due to the blood loss and trauma. They weren’t entirely sure what the reaper beacon did, if it did anything at all, so it was entirely possible that they were already dead and this was a horrible dream. It could explain why the citadel spirit looked like the child from Earth - or maybe it was the other way around? Was there ever a child on Earth? Were they ever on Earth?
Shepard takes a shaking breath as they stare at the device, unable to draw their gun. Is this what they wanted? To destroy everything? EDI? The geth? The mass relays? What would happen? How many people would get stranded on Earth and Mars?
No. No, they couldn’t choose another option. This had to stop. Not in fifty or a hundred years when the Reaper regained control, or if someone decides that synthetic/organic life is dangerous. It stopped now.
Something faint takes their wrist, guiding it upwards. They watch as it’s lifted by a slightly transparent green hand belonging to a familiar drell. A smile creeps across their face.
“Not even alone at the end, huh?” they chuckle, wincing at the pain in their limbs. They were so tired. They’d saved the galaxy. It was time to rest finally.
Something faint, almost distant, whispers in the back of their mind. “Had to be you. Someone else would’ve gotten it wrong.” They echo the words, a hoarse whisper ripping from their throat.
“Sorry, Garrus. Sorry, Liara, Tali, Zaeed, Grunt, Wrex, Miranda, Jacob, Samara, Kaidan, Aria, Javik, James, EDI, Jeff, Jack, Kasumi, Samantha, everyone. Sorry I couldn’t make it to see your smiles… but, this is for you. My last gift,” they whisper, tears starting to roll down their cheeks as they close their eyes, threatening to tumble forwards.
Something cold and heavy braces their back, holding them steady as they aim the pistol towards the chamber. For some reason, reality swims around them. The comm chatter filling their ears from a broken receiver.
“Can anyone hear this?! Shepard? What happened to the commander?!”
“We need support over here! We’re being blown to smithereens!”
“The Reapers are tearing us apart! Can anyone help?!”
They hear them all, each transmission a strike to their heart. The Normandy, the turian force, even the quarians. All of them pleading for it to stop. All of them dying. Their cheeks are damp now. They were never one for the water works, always the tough commander that protected the galaxy. Yet, here they were; alone, doing what had to be done.
The trigger to the gun pulled itself. The glass chamber shattering in front of them.
It’s a two-second delay, a ringing in their ears as they feel their heartbeat flutter. Then it blasts them and sends them flying. Pain rips their body. They’re tossed backwards, hitting against the ground as the top of the citadel - the crucible - crumbles underneath them.
Then they see it. Everything they’d gone through. Each trial and struggle of growing up and enlisting. From their medical degree to watching their squadron die. They thought everyone had lied about the “seeing your life” part. Guess not.
They recount when they’d met Nihlus, and later found his corpse. The first time a beacon delved into their mind. Meeting Garrus - or rather watching him yell at his superior - at the citadel (and later tracking him down). Watching Wrex yell at bodyguards, and Tali stand up to Saren’s lackeys. The pride they’d first felt when they’d been instated as the first human spectre. How it felt to free Liara and watch her babble over prothean ruins. The adrenaline that pumped their veins from killing geth and tracking down Saren. Comforting Liara when her mother died, and convincing Saren to realize his mistake. Simpler times when it felt more like a dramatic show than a suicide mission.
Hunting geth with their shell of a crew. Running through a burning ship to pull Joker from his seat. Suffocating when their suit broke.
The fear and confusion of waking up without anyone in a Cerberus lab. Meeting Jacob - and nearly shooting Miranda. The joy of seeing Joker again, and the quiet rage towards the Illusive Man. Finding an old betrayed merc who wound up being a pseudo-mentor to them. Curing the plague on Omega for a crazy scientist who turned into their best friend. Meeting the leader of Omega in her personal strip club. Enlisting to be the bait to help “kill” a vigilante, only to find an old friend (and later panicking when he’s nearly blown to pieces). Meeting a nimble thief - only to be stuffed into a suit and tie to get her lover’s grey box back. Finding (and opening) a tank-grown krogan who became somewhat of a son to them. Breaking out a dangerous criminal who wound up to be a close friend to share drinks with and nothing more. Running into their old friend for the second time, and having her taken on their ship’s name as her own. Assisting a drell in an asasination and promising to make his last year to live interesting. Helping an old asari woman to find peace (even if it meant killing her daughter).
Becoming a dependable family to lean on one another, train together, and attempt to steal the shirt off eachother’s backs during late-night card games. Spending their last few hours tangled in the arms of an old friend, scale to skin, legs on a wide waist. Travelling to the edge of the galaxy on a suicide mission none of them should have survived - yet somehow managed the impossible.
Even when they’d been trapped on Earth for rescuing the galaxy again, they weren’t forgotten. Their friends coming together once more to help them banish an unbeatable force. Finding themself once again in the arms of a very nervous turian, even if it was awkwardly due to the lack of romantic skills between the both of them. The road had been bumpy, running into old enemies, gaining new ones, watching themself kill themself (that had been an odd one), meeting ancient beings that should have been dead, and finding themself at the top of the citadel.
The citadel. They were home - second only to the Normandy - and they could hear someone calling their name. A faint voice - no wait, faint voices - calling out for them. Three distinct ones mixed with hundreds of others; telling them to wake up, to go, to move, to live. They wanted to sleep, to let go, to finally rest. They heard the chatter of a distant bar on the beach, waves crashing against the sand. They could almost feel the sun on their face.
Then they heard it. The voice of a dead man in their ear, telling them to live. To live for him. To finally take the reigns of their own life instead of dwelling on the problems of others. To do what he never allowed himself to.
“Come on, Shepard, you’ve got to get up. I didn’t reinstate you so you could die again,” Anderson lectures them, dragging their life back to their body.
“I can’t… I need to sleep… I’m so tired, Anderson,” they whine. They were never one to whine.
“Like hell you are! You’re getting up. That’s an order, soldier.”
“... even in death you don’t let up, do you?”
“Open your eyes, Shepard. Breath. It’ll be hard at first, but death is the easy way out - and if I recall correctly, you’ve never taken the easy way out.”
It drew a chuckle to their lips. They weren’t sure why they were laughing, but, they were. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rush of being alive. Perhaps it was the fear of disobeying the final order of their admiral. Whatever the case may be, they forced their eyes open, to survey their surroundings.
To their shock, they were alive. Something heavy weighted down on their legs, pinning them to the rubble, but they weren’t dead. There was an ache in their chest - they’d certainly broken a few ribs - and their skull pounded. Yet, they couldn’t help the triumph that spread through their veins as the reality of the feat they’d just accomplished hit them like a truck. They were alive.
A triumphant cheer ripped from their lips, scraping against their throat. They could care less. They flicked their omni-tool on, their arm stiff and sore, yet functioning. A familiar song filled the empty void around them, mixing with their laughter. They were alive.
Carefully they reached their hand to their head, turning on their comm. They knew that medi-gel would only go so far with the state of their body. Their survival would be short lived unless they got help.
“I don’t know… if this signal will reach anyone. But… this is Commander Shepard, requesting assistance,” they joked, trying to contain their laughter. The smile pulled at their lips. They couldn’t help a joke, they were alive. It felt like one final joke to the Reapers.
“Shepard?! Is that you!?” Garrus’ voice immediately responds, crackling through the comms and doing very little for their headache. Their smile only broadened to hear the voice of the turian they loved. They were ninety eight precent that Garrus had no idea how much it meant to hear his voice.
Words catch in their throat briefly at the sound of his voice. They want to tell him that they love him - but this was a public channel and they weren’t sure who would hear it. It was one thing to be on his arm for a charity heist or to dance in full public view on a “first date”, it’s another to announce to the alliance, and the turian military that they were dating. Not that Shepard didn’t want to - they didn’t know if Garrus did. They settle on a joke just to be safe.
“Suprised to hear me?” they snicker, nonchalant in the face of their current circumstances.
“Joker! Turn the ship around!” Shepard’s not sure if he meant to transmit that - it was definitely filled with running and background chatter - as another voice cuts through.
“Yeah, I heard them Garrus -! Commander, you have perfect timing. I was just about to bounce,” Joker chuckles, matching their tone. Old drinking buddies - even in the face of near-death - die hard.
“Had to worry you guys for a bit of payback. You made me worry just as much.” They knew it wasn’t entirely true - they worried them often (mostly unintentionally) - yet they wanted to keep their air light and not illude to their trapped situation. They also were terribly worried when they had Vega drag Garrus back onto the shuttle after nearly being evaporated by a Reaper beam.
“Shepard, we need you to tell us where you are so we can find you,” Liara’s voice cuts in, worry evident in her tone. It struck their chest, reminding them why they didn’t like making their friends worry.
“Citadel, I think. Not sure. Maybe the Crucible? I can breathe, so at least there’s that.” They took their time in speaking, their chest aching with each breath.
“Does anything around you look familiar?” Garrus quickly questions.
“Uh, well my armour does… Not sure about much else, I don’t have my gun on me… so I don’t have a light. Don’t worry, you can find me… I’ve got music playing.” Talking proved to be more of a challenge as time wore on. They probably - definitely - broke at least one rib. Or bruised something important.
“Are you bleeding? Is anything broken?” Urgency echoed in his voice, Shepard tried to calm him down the best they could.
“Again, light’s broken… so I can’t really tell… relax, Garrus, can’t be much worse than… when you got hit on Omega.”
“This is different, Shepard. You were shot by a Reaper, and probably a million other things.”
“I know.”
The comms go silent as the two of them lose their words. If Garrus were next to them right now, they would’ve wrapped their arms around him and told him everything was fine. But he wasn’t. Instead, he was gods knew how far away on the Normandy, and Shepard was under some very unfamiliar rubble they were beginning to become very personal with. Especially with the way it was crushing their legs.
“Think you can hold out for fifteen minutes, boss?” Joker asks, cutting through the silence.
“Joker, that is inaccurate; it will only take five minutes to reach Shepard,” EDI’s voice cuts in, and Shepard breaks, tears deciding to roll down their cheeks once again. Relief flooding into them that they hadn’t killed EDI on accident. Thankfully, no one seems to hear them.
“Yeah, I know. Five minutes to get there, five minutes to argue over who gets to go dig out the Commander, and five minutes to convince the alliance not to arrest them for saving the galaxy, again.”
“Mister Moreau, you are aware that you’re on a public channel, correct?” Hackett butts in, drawing a painful bought of laughter from Shepard as Joker sputters.
“Can you just… send Garrus… please?” Shepard requests weakly, their voice cracking from tears and the definite chance they’d broken ribs.
“... I’m already at the shuttle,” Garrus whispers, his voice barely catching on the comms.
“Can you… bring some medi-gel? Maybe a few bandages, and… gods I wish we had Mordin still.”
“Liara’s coming too. Not Mordin, but she’s the best we have,” Garrus assures them. They smile; Liara had always come with them to the hospital on the Citadel to help volunteer. They’d finally been able to put their medical degree to use - and they’d use it here as well if they had a light or tools.
“How much… longer?”
“We just reached the wreckage. Keep talking; I know it’s hard, but we need you to say conscious,” Liara reminds them as they stare up at the dark wreckage.
“Alright… uh… hey Hackett, am I going to have to go back to Earth? I know I was fightin’ for it and all… but… I kinda want to stay on the Normandy.” They know it’s a selfish request, to want to stay away from Earth, but they don’t think they could ever look at Earth without seeing the Reapers again.
“Shepard, you just saved the whole galaxy from extinction and lived. I’d give you a whole fleet if you asked me to. We might even have a medal with your name on it,” Hackett agrees, the usually stern voice softening to a joking tone.
“Nah. Use that to help rebuild everything… The mass relays are going to need repair… and I hear the quarians, turians, asari, salarians, and even krogan are going to need help rebuilding - some more than others. I just… I just want a ship… and the freedom to help everyone.”
“You’ve done quite a lot to help us, Commander. We’d understand if you want to take time to rest,” Primarch Victus cuts in, helping to distract Shepard as well and keep them awake.
“Thank you, Primarch, but it’s the least I can do. I want to be able… to visit Palaven with Garrus… and see Tuchunka in its glory - baby krogans included… I know Tali’s going to want to build her house on Rannoch… and I promised Liara that I’d help her set up an apartment on Thessia.” They held themself back on everything they’d wanted to do with Garrus. They wanted to admit it all… but they weren’t sure what he wanted.
“Don’t remind me… war was my one break,” Wrex groans from somewhere on Earth.
“Baby krogan’s are my first priority, Wrex. My second is making sure that any orphans from this war have homes,” they state matter-o-factly. They knew it was a stupidly mushy goal, but they couldn’t help it. The death of their parents was on their hands. Each kid was their responsibility.
“I agree with you, Shepard. The turian’s will provide full support to the other races to help rebuild, and take care of their populations,” Primarch Victus agrees, stunning Shepard for a moment before they recall that Garrus had mentioned at one point that turian’s (being a very military centred culture) had precautions in place for the loss of parents. “I’m sure there are a few parents willing to take on children - especially if they’re feeling the loss of their own.”
“Losing parents can be hard… I’ll do all that I can to help with the rebound,” Shepard agrees, unsure of how to properly word their feelings.
“We can offer Rannoch as a place for refugees stranded on that side of the galaxy; we’re already housing turians evacuated from Palaven,” Admiral Raan interjects, leading the comms away to a more official meeting. Shepard slowly starts to tune it out.
“Uh, I know I’m just a pilot and all, but isn’t this meant to be finding Shepard? You know, the human who managed to do the impossible and is currently crushed under the rubble of an entire building that they found the plans for and recruited people to help build?” Joker cuts through, reminding the diplomats of the importance of the communication line. “Just saying.”
“You’re right, apologies, Commander Shepard,” Primarch Victus corrects himself. “How is the rescue teams fairing? Do we need to send in assistance?”
“We’re doing alright. It’s slow to make this not cave in on itself and take us with it. Surprisingly, it’s not the first time we’ve attempted something like this,” Liara informs them, drawing a chuckle to Shepard’s lips. They wince at the pain this time as they recount all the times they’d gone into crumbling ruins or ships. It’s not a lot, but it’s definitely more than the typical person - or even Spectre.
“Shepard, can you check and make sure your music’s still playing?” Garrus requests - his voice making their heart wobble - drawing the topic away to more focused on finding Shepard.
They glance down to their wrist, pressing skip as the song had gotten quiet, only for the one they’d danced with Garrus to come on. They knew it’d get to him, and that he’d be the only one to understand it. They’d found it a while ago and had hacked their apartment to play the song late at night when they’d find themself curled up in their bed on shore leave and Garrus had been finishing up calibrations on the main battery.
“Hear it now?”
“I - you - did you seriously find that song?”
“Couldn’t help myself. Call it sentimental, but I wanted to remember that night.”
“Guess those dance lessons paid for themselves,” Garrus chuckles. They can hear his voice; clearer, a bit more distant, almost echoing the -
“I can hear you!” they exclaim before they can finish their thought.
“I - wait really?!”
“Yeah! You’re far away, but I can hear you!”
“That’s - Shepard, that’s amazing! I can hear you as well, just keep talking. We’ll have you out of there before EDI can finish explaining the advanced laws of space travel to the terminus systems,” Garrus rambles, footsteps now catching Shepard’s ears.
It’s a bright light in Shepard’s face as EDI rambles away, not quite understanding the joke but adding to it nonetheless. Shepard reaches a hand up to cover their face so they didn’t go blind as Garrus stubbornly crawls through the ruins to get to them.
“Ack! You’re going to blind me, you dang turian!”
“I found them, Liara! Call the Normandy!” Garrus calls over his shoulder as he reaches their shoulder. “How's the damage? Think we can get you out of here?”
Shepard finally gets to shed some light on their situation and their heart sinks. Their left leg was buried - no, crushed - under rubble. They tried to wiggle their toes, but if they were moving, Shepard couldn’t feel it.
“Garrus… don’t freak out… but, I can’t move my leg,” they whisper, staring down at their crushed limb. Their right leg was fine - free even - but their left was trapped.
Garrus turns his head to where Shepard was staring, and grimaces.
“Couldn’t you feel that before?”
“Nah. Everyone did a perfect job at distracting me, I guess.”
“Alright… uh… don’t - don’t go anywhere, I’m going to -”
They reach their hand up, grabbing his wrist as he starts to back up. They lift their head to meet his gaze, trying their hardest not to look pathetic. They knew what was coming next - what would have to be done to get them free. The rubble was pressing too hard on their leg, and would be impossible to move, even if they took the entire thing apart piece by piece.
“Garrus, please don’t leave me.”
He takes a shaking breath, his mandibles twitching uncertainly as he glances over his shoulder, before he lifts two fingers to the side of his head. He probably didn’t need to use the comm system, but shouting over his shoulder might cause a cave-in - especially with how loud his voice is.
“Liara, I need you to biotically pass us the tourniquet and… and the scalpel.”
There’s silence on the comm line as everyone waits for Liara to speak.
“Sending it over now,” she states, trying to keep her tone level so that she doesn’t worry anyone.
A few moments later, a few tools float to Shepard’s reach. They never thought they’d have to use their training on themself past a few scrapes and scars… so they were very unprepared for what they were about to do next. They knew they couldn’t ask Garrus to - he’d most certainly cut the wrong thing. They just hoped the bone was already broken enough that they wouldn’t have to break it themself.
Honestly, they wished that they’d asked for painkillers. But, it was done before it crossed their mind that Liara and Garrus may have brought some. Garrus dragged them out by the shoulders as they tried not to pass out from the pain. Liara shot them in the arm as soon as they reached the more open area she was standing in. An oxygen mask is wrapped around their face as Vega appears from somewhere beyond the rubble walls. He helps Garrus to carry them back, as Liara starts to radio in to let Joker know they were okay.
They don’t manage to make it farther than inside the Normandy before they pass out.