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His senses warred against one another. The pain had stopped at some point he didn’t remember. The pain, but not the limitation. It was as if no matter how he tried to bring himself to his full height, his joints simply wouldn’t sustain him. If he tried to take a step, his foot would only move so far before finding the floor once more. It wasn’t the feeling that he’d had while the Illusive Man had made him follow only his will. It was his body showing him that, pain or not, he was only able to do so much.
Behind him, the battle continued. Reaper lasers ripping through the ships of the galaxy. Streaks of gunfire fizzling against hulls of stronger metal than any mind this cycle had found the alloy for. Beside him stood a figment of a child that was too damned familiar. The face had haunted him for months now. Innocence and fear and failure all wrapped up in a holographic display rippling with the Crucible’s energy. He hated that this thing had pulled the image from his mind somehow - if it hadn’t just implanted it there all that time ago, let him dream about it coupled with whispers. Voices of the lost still echoing through a dark, foggy forest with flame always lurking a few steps ahead.
But now he had a choice to make, and he had to make it soon. Every moment that he hesitated, the war grew more and more bleak, and Montgomery Alan Shepard was not a man known for dragging his feet on decisions. This one, though...
For this one, he needed time.
Three focuses for the Crucible’s power.
He’d thought for so damned long now that the answer was to destroy the Reapers and, honestly, if the Catalyst had told him nothing, he’d already be heaving himself along the walkway toward that conduit. He’d have been gnawing his way through the controls to make sure every goddamned Reaper went down in flames.
But, true or not, he thought of Legion and EDI. How Legion had finally called himself “I”. How the Geth had uploaded themselves into the Quarians’ suits and were already helping them adapt to a life on a world that was theirs again. How EDI had asked him questions about humanity and altruism. How she and Joker had somehow found their own little island of solace in the middle of the end of the galaxy. Organics and synthetics could coexist here. They had proof.
And then the Catalyst had said that the right answer, the true answer, was for organic and synthetic life to blend. For all organics to have a little synthetic. For all synthetics to have a little organic. To expand minds and bodies until it all came together. And he had to agree. It was inevitable, in its way. It was the right answer. But there had been one little phrase that had stopped him after only two shaky steps. Organics had to be ready.
He couldn’t make that choice. He couldn’t force that on the entire galaxy. They had to be ready, and he could only make the choice for himself.
And that was when his stomach twisted. His eyes moved over to the pylons. He knew what he was going to do, even as he hated it. The Illusive Man had been right. To control the Reapers would have to be the answer. And he was probably the worst goddamn person to do it. His temper was short. He tended to shoot first and ask questions later. The faint glows at his jaw on each side, the scars that refused to heal - those were evidence, even if Chakwas kept telling him that she knew that it could be much worse. That he’d done well to keep it as small as it was.
The Illusive Man had called Anderson an old soldier who saw the world down the barrel of a gun. But it wasn’t Anderson. Not really. An ache passed through him with a heavy beat of his heart. Damn it but he wished this was something he could just snipe and be done with. That kind of luck had never been his, though.
His foot was heavy as he lifted it, memory coming and hazing over his vision. Anderson, who knew how far below. Dead. Shot - by him. The thought of his finger squeezing the trigger came back to him, and he heard a low, familiar voice. Sunset-coloured eyes defiant in the scope. Thane.
He’d stabbed his omni-blade through Kai Leng’s side, burying it deep. He’d twisted it, leaving the wound open and gaping, leaving blood gushing onto what was left of the floor. That was for Thane, you son of a bitch. Thane, who Shepard envied. Not for his death, but for having the brass balls to turn his life to good in a way that he, himself, had never managed. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...
He’d let Garrus shoot Saleon and Sidonis. The bastards deserved it, but Garrus hadn’t. He should’ve pushed Garrus toward making better choices.
Fuck, what kind of things were going to happen with a bastard like him at the helm of these fucking Reapers?
Step after step. His feet weighed a ton. In his periphery, he could see one of the Asari ships gliding toward a Reaper destroyer. It was silent. Like the Alliance cruiser he and Cortez had watched off the Citadel docking bay. There were no sounds in space. No engines rumbling. No rippled blasts as explosions tore through cruiser after cruiser. How many of them had he talked into coming? For just this moment? How many had followed just because of him?
Kaidan. Brother in arms. Warm-hearted. Kind. Had morals stronger than steel. We know the score. We know this is goodbye.
Tali. Little sister he never knew he wanted. Smart as hell. Always striving for the best. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t back you now?
Liara. So goddamned capable. Took over the biggest information network without a hitch. It can also be a way to say farewell.
Samara. Island of peace in the storm of existence. Iron and velvet and healed scars. Only your actions will be remembered. Choose them well.
Javik. James. Wrex. Grunt. Jack. Jacob. Zaeed. Kasumi.
Family. The family he’d never had. Growing up on Earth, fighting for every inch in the Reds, knowing it held no future. Enlisting. Watching his squad die to the fucking thresher maws. Still fighting his way up the ranks. Sharpshooter, tech expert, XO. Commander. Spectre. Alone all the while, until Normandy.
He threw the pistol that had made its way up with him and heard it hit the walkway, heard it skid, and then heard nothing more as it fell. Energy arced over the pylons and he knew that it would hurt. Hell, it had said he would be dissolved. That didn’t happen painlessly.
Didn’t matter.
It crackled over his skin and set his teeth on edge, but that didn’t stop him from shoving one hand through and then another, fingers curling around the pylon. The blue made him think of biotics. Made him think of Miranda. Her eyes. Her smile. She’d understand. He’d finish this. And he knew that she understood that his promise had been about that. Finishing this. Giving her peace. Giving her a goddamned galaxy worth living in.
His knees faltered, but he pushed himself back up, grabbed both pylons and--
There was no pain. His nerves must have fried in the beam, or in Harbinger’s laser. He didn’t know. But even as he fragmented, it didn’t hurt. He felt his will pushing outward, and he remembered what Legion had said. A single thought was overwhelming. Immense. Unknowable.
But he knew them.
And he would make them listen.