#mefanfiction

[commander-krios]

You Will Never Be Alone (Shrios)

Have some Shrios feels friends!

The glass was cool against her flushed skin. Her eyes were closed, but even then, Charley Shepard could still see the black expanse of space on the other side of the window. Her nights were sleepless, filled with the last images she saw before her death: the burning pieces of the Normandy floating around her, an uninhabitable planet below, the feeling of weightless as she floated through space, choking as her body struggled to take what little oxygen was left in her tank…

Charley’s eyes fluttered open and she gasped for air, having forgotten to breath as she relived that awful moment before death. Adrenaline thrummed in her veins, as if preparing her for a fight, but the Observation Deck was silent, still as death. Cool sweat beaded along her forehead and she reached up to wipe it away, disgusted. Charley didn’t deal with fear often, especially not since the attack on Mindoir. Anger had propelled her forward, kept her going. Death was inevitable and when it finally happened, it would be out of her control. But now, she didn’t want to die. Not again. She had too much to lose. The fear made her weak. Without the usual anger in her blood, she didn’t know who she was.

Hair fell into her eyes as she shook the thoughts away. Billions of people were counting on her. She couldn’t falter or the Collectors would win.

Sighing, she slumped against the wall, keeping her gaze from the window. No matter how hard she tried, the sight of the stars still brought the memories back, brought back the pain and the terror. She had hoped time would help, but it had done nothing.

The shivering started before she could stop it. It was only when she heard Thane’s voice that she realized.

“Siha…”

Her eyes found the concerned drell standing across from her. Brushing the stray hair behind her ear, she straightened, hoping he didn’t notice the tremors. “Thane, I-”

“Is something the matter?” He took a step towards her. Thane was observant, too observant at times, but it was his profession. Assassins had to take in every detail. She wished he didn’t when she was with him. It made her feel naked around him, as if no matter how hard she tried to fake happiness, he would be able to discern if she was lying or not. “Siha, you’re trembling.”

“I’m fine.” She snapped, stepping away from his outstretched hand. She hated feeling so helpless. No matter how hard she tried to not be curt with her friends, it was a difficult habit to break. She hadn’t been truly happy since she was sixteen. “I’ll be fine.”

Thane didn’t respond. He only waited for her to gain control. Silence fell upon the room again. As strong as she tried to be, Charley was afraid. Afraid of facing the Collectors, afraid of losing her friends, afraid of failing humanity. The future of the galaxy was on her shoulders and she truly didn’t know how to handle it.

When she finally spoke, her voice broke. “I can’t do this.”

His arms were around her in the next moment. “Siha, you can.”

Tears betrayed her. Frustrated, she wiped them away, but didn’t try to move from the circle of Thane’s embrace. “The Reapers have been one step ahead of us this entire time. How can we defeat something like that?”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.” Thane forced her to meet his gaze and the sight of her tears tore at him. He had never seen her broken before. “We know what this battle will mean. Even if we do not survive, each of your crew is willing to do anything to stop the Collectors, to stop the Reapers.”

Charley shook her head. The tears she’d been holding back finally fell upon her scarred cheeks. His eyes watched as a stray teardrop created a path down her skin. “No one should have to die. There are so many deaths on my conscience. I can’t add more. I refuse to add yours to that list.”

“Is that what you are afraid of?” Thane pressed his lips into her ebony hair. His presence had calmed her tremors, but not her restless mind. “That time will come whether or not we want it. I am sorry that I’ve caused you pain.”

Charley squeezed her eyes tightly against another flood of tears. “Don’t,” she whispered roughly. “Never be sorry.”

Thane nodded and held her close, the tears soaking his clothes. “I am here, Siha. You will never be alone as long as I’m alive.”

Charley felt her words catch in her throat. Her hands clung to him, refusing to let go. “I love you, Thane. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

The assassin smiled, hearing the sincerity in how she spoke. “Who said this has to be goodbye?”

Charley glanced up at him, seeing the smile through her blurry gaze. His hand had taken hers. Turning her palm towards the ceiling, she watched as the man she loved placed a small object it in. It took her a few moments to realize it was a tiny gold band with a single pearl. She felt the tears coming once more. “Thane?”

“Hold onto this, Siha. When we defeat the Collectors, we can enjoy whatever time we have, together.”

She didn’t speak her agreement. Instead, she met his lips feverishly, joy and despair warring within her. She didn’t know which would win, but with Thane in her arms, she didn’t need to think about the future. He was hers.

[servantofclio]

The Other Commander Shepard (7/?)

Fandom: Mass Effect

Summary: Val Shepard is the survivor of Mindoir, Hero of Elysium, first human Spectre, Savior of the Citadel, Destroyer of Bahak, and savior of the galaxy…… or is she?  Waking up as an ordinary Alliance officer, Shepard tries to make sense of the world around her, where everything seems changed.

Length: This chapter, 3900 words; overall, ~26,000 words

Links: AO3, ff.net

Credits: Thanks to @theherocomplex and @probablylostrightnow for thoughtful and invaluable beta reading!

Additional note: I may take next week off from posting due to travel, but there should definitely be an update in two week!

#

Shepard and Garrus ran into Vega as soon as they got to the bar. Shepard wasn't even surprised to find the big lieutenant leaning on a stool. She was surprised to see him light up with a broad grin and wave at them both. "Hey, Scars! Blondie! Glad you could make it!"

As soon as she heard the nickname, her face contorted into something that was probably a snarl. "Blondie?"

"Sure, 'cause..." James waved a hand vaguely in the direction of her hair.

"He likes nicknames," Garrus supplied. "Can't be bothered to remember people's real names."

Val rolled her eyes. Her face felt permanently crimped into a scowl. "But you have to be able to do better than Blondie."

"What? Don't it suit you?" James grinned at her.

She'd never understood his original nickname for her, but now she felt oddly desolate. She was supposed to be Lola, damn it, and she couldn't very well demand that he call her that. She settled for a blunt: "No. It doesn't."

"I'd have to agree." Garrus signaled the woman behind the bar, who passed him a bottle. Evidently the two men were regulars here. Val ordered a beer while the two of them kept wrangling.

"What do you know about it?" James demanded. "You're hearing everything we say through a translator."

Garrus shrugged, cracking open his bottle. "You really think I've worked with humans for years and not picked up anything of your language? What you said was obviously a diminutive, and she's not."

Val blinked at that. She wouldn't have thought he had that strong an impression of her. When glanced at him sidelong, though, he returned a flaring grin. She couldn't help but smile back.

James snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "Marilyn."

Her smile dropped and she rolled her eyes. "Now you're just picking famous dead blonde women. No."

"I'll figure somethin' out." He tapped his head. "I always figure them out."

"What, you think 'Scars' is so brilliant?" She accepted her drink from the bartender.

Leading the way to a booth at the back, Garrus snorted. James looked injured. "I call 'em like I see 'em."

"I don't mind, Jimmy," Garrus drawled, glancing over his shoulder.

"What do you call Shepard?" Val asked, curious. She couldn't imagine James applying a feminine nickname to John Shepard.

The two men looked at each other. "Loco," James said, looking a little sheepish.

She laughed.

It was an odd evening. Almost comfortable, and yet not quite. The place was, to tell the truth, a dive: some sort of shed or warehouse originally, maybe, that had been repurposed when someone dragged in an assortment of mismatched chairs and tables, including one tall enough and long enough to serve as a bar. Shepard didn't want to know where the proprietors got the weird variety of liquor they provided. The woman behind the bar, with a tight face and bright red lipstick, served drinks competently, but didn't invite much conversation.

Garrus had picked the booth. Shepard noticed that he'd chosen a seat where he could see the whole room, and had an especially good view of the door. He leaned back in the booth, one ankle crossed over his knee, all relaxed swagger, but he drank slowly, and his eyes didn't seem to miss much as they traveled around the room. James leaned on the table, shoulders hunched, roaring with laughter. He was putting away a lot more, but Shepard knew the lieutenant had a substantial capacity.

She took a moment, while the men were bantering with each other, to send a message to the address Garrus had given her.

To: Jacob Taylor

I'm Lt. Cmdr. Val Shepard, with the Alliance, currently on Terra Nova. I'm looking for my brother, Alex. Garrus Vakarian told me you might know where to find him. Let me know if you can; I'd like to make sure he's safe.

Shepard sent it off while James was laughing about some joke she hadn't caught. Communications were jammed up enough that there was no telling when it would go out, but she'd sent it to the queue. Hopefully she'd hear within a few days. She powered down the omni-tool and put her attention back to the conversation.

The rhythm of talk between James and Garrus was easy to fall into. Familiar, like a sport: jokes and sarcasm and anecdotes batted back and forth between them with an ease and comfort that Shepard couldn't help but find inviting.

Except that the stories they told might start in familiar places, only to veer off in directions she didn't expect.

Continue reading on AO3 or ff.net.

[servantofclio]

Fic update: The Other Commander Shepard (6/?)

Fandom: Mass Effect

Summary: Val Shepard is the survivor of Mindoir, Hero of Elysium, first human Spectre, Savior of the Citadel, Destroyer of Bahak, and savior of the galaxy…… or is she?  Waking up as an ordinary Alliance officer, Shepard tries to make sense of the world around her, where everything seems changed.

Length: This chapter, 4500 words; overall, ~23,000 words

Links: AO3, ff.net

Credits: Thanks to @theherocomplex and @probablylostrightnow for thoughtful and invaluable beta reading!

Additional note: Back with a new chapter, and the longest one yet! I think I’ll try to make Thursdays the update days for the foreseeable future.

#

It was one thing to resolve that she'd find her way out of this. It was another thing to figure out how.

The hospital stayed the same as ever: humdrum routine for Shepard in the midst of a harried, uneasy staff. But Shepard felt haunted now by the knowledge that her crew was here. Some of them, anyway. Liara and James and Garrus, and whoever else from the Normandy had survived. It felt like a fresh wound, always pulling at her attention, the way her physical wounds had before they healed, leaving shiny new skin in their wake.

Shepard couldn't exactly roam through the hospital looking for her crew, though. And to her frustration, the Alliance personnel database, didn't seem to update properly. Even if Val somehow found them, there wouldn't be anything to say, would there? She supposed she could thank them for their service, since John Shepard wasn't in a position to do so. Had he, she wondered? Had he known and appreciated what he'd had? Did he care about his people as much as she did?

She couldn't ask any of them. She didn't see any of the crew in her circuits of the hospital, either. Not even Liara, when she passed by John Shepard's room, though if Val knew Liara, Liara wouldn't have left her lover.

Even the thought of Liara being John Shepard's lover made Val feel a dark, formless kind of jealousy, even if there was nothing romantic between her and Liara any more. Val's own memory told her that she and Liara had ended things over a year ago. Still. Liara belonged to those memories, not at John Shepard's side.

Val went in her for next physical evaluation and drummed her fingers restlessly against her thigh while her mind wandered, wondering if Garrus took John to the top of the Presidium, too, and if James still had his N7 tattoo.

"I think you're ready to be released."

Startled out of her reverie, Shepard blinked at Dr. Menendez, a thin, short woman with weary eyes and streaks of gray in her dark hair. "Really?" The anticipation of being free and out of this building made her heart beat faster, but... here, at least, she was close to John Shepard's room. Val bit the inside of her cheek, torn between excitement and reluctance.

"Yes. Your physical progress is impressive." Menendez pursed her lips. "You're not cleared for active duty yet, and you'll need another evaluation in ten days or so. You can continue physical therapy on an outpatient basis. Frankly, I hate to say it, but we need the space."

"Ah." Shepard sent her a lopsided smile. "I'm not sick enough."

Menendez sighed. "No. We're still getting missing ships checking in, and some of them have seriously injured patients to transfer to us."

"It's all right. I get it." Shepard rubbed the back of her neck, wincing when her fingers brushed across her empty amp port. "Where do I go from here, then?"

"You'll have assigned quarters." Menendez handed Shepard a chit. "Not luxurious, I'm afraid, but you're authorized a space in the Alliance barracks. It's... relatively private, at least, and of course you'll be issued clothing and other necessaries to go with it. There's a mess hall on site."

Shepard accepted the chit. "Thanks."

"And you've been cleared for this." Menendez reached into her desk drawer and removed a small black case, of a familiar shape and size. Shepard had to restrain herself from snatching the amp case right out of the doctor's hand. She settled for holding one hand out imperiously, leaning forward in her seat. Menendez half-smiled as she dropped it into Shepard's waiting palm. "Eager?"

Shepard's mouth twitched, but she didn't answer, concentrating on breaking the seal and popping the case open. It was nothing fancy, just a standard-issue Alliance amp in sterile packaging. Val swept her hair aside from the port with one hand, and plugged the amp into the socket with the other, in one smooth motion. The amp slid into place with barely a snick, perfectly seated.

There weren't any words for the sensation of having her biotics come online. It was a new sense shivering to life — like suddenly pulling off a blindfold, or like losing your hearing to an explosion and having it come back all at once instead of gradually. Shepard's awareness of her own power twanged like a plucked string, crackling along her spine from skull to tailbone. She sighed, her lips spreading into a smile. "You have no idea."

Continue reading on AO3 or ff.net.

[servantofclio]

Fic update: The Other Commander Shepard (5/?)

Fandom: Mass Effect

Summary: Val Shepard is the survivor of Mindoir, Hero of Elysium, first human Spectre, Savior of the Citadel, Destroyer of Bahak, and savior of the galaxy…… or is she?  Waking up as an ordinary Alliance officer, Shepard tries to make sense of the world around her, where everything seems changed.

Length: This chapter, 2900 words; overall, 18,000 words

Links: AO3, ff.net

Credits: Thanks to @theherocomplex and @probablylostrightnow for thoughtful and invaluable beta reading!

Additional note: There may not be a new chapter next week, as I’m traveling. There should be one within two weeks, though, and the next one should be longer.

#

Val knew that visiting John Shepard's room every day was just scratching away at a scab. She hardly even needed to think about it any more. Even as she thought about how her legs were getting stronger, and how her mother was worried over Ivan, whose recovery was slower (and far away), her feet found their way toward the appropriate corridor. She had just turned the last corner when she heard a commotion behind her: a flurry of footsteps, some light, some heavy, and a cacophony of raised voices, several people talking over each other. Shepard tensed, flattening her hand against the wall; she found her mind rapidly running over the layout and options (no weapons ready to hand, people behind her, corridor ahead, John Shepard's room not far ahead on her right). She shook her head, irritated with herself; there was no likely threat here. As she turned toward the noise, keeping her back to the wall, an irritated, higher-pitched voice pierced through of the din.

"I don't care what his condition is, you can't keep me from seeing him!"

The voice was so familiar that Val's breath caught. Her chest tightened, and her stomach lurched with a sudden queasiness. Her head snapped around so fast her neck ached. "Liara?" she murmured under her breath.

Time seemed to slow, as it sometimes did in combat. A knot of people swarmed down the hall toward her: medics in scrubs and white coats, people in Alliance uniform, the bulkier forms of people in armor. Out of the knot, brushing off a white-coated man who was attempting to speak to her, strode Liara T'soni, her lips pressed in a tight line. Liara stood out, almost too vivid and sharp; the people around her blurred in Shepard's eyes. Liara's white coat looked like the lightly armored one Val remembered her favoring throughout the war, but it was streaked with dirt and scorch marks. Liara's left arm, bandaged, hung in a sling. Her face was drawn, her cheekbones more prominent than Shepard remembered, and some recent wound had left an angry violet streak across her forehead. Liara ignored the medics and strode past Val without seeming to see her. With a wave of her right hand, the door to John Shepard's room flew open and crashed into the wall. Val flinched.

The two guards at the door reached for their weapons — a little slowly, but Val couldn't really blame them for being caught off guard. Liara's fingers curled, a mere flicker of movement, and both of them sailed away, landing in a heap at the end of the corridor, under a drooping potted plant. Liara didn't even glance in their direction. She halted on the threshold, her hand going briefly to her lips as she stared into the room. Her blue eyes widened, glistening with tears. "Oh," she said softly. "Shepard." Then she stepped in, oblivious to the crowd in the corridor behind, or the two guards groaning at the end of the hall. The door slammed shut after her.

"He's in no condition for visitors," the man in white protested to the air. He must be the highest-ranking doctor on hand. Val, remembering to breathe, didn't envy him.

"I don't recommend trying to remove her. Unless you'd like your hospital to have large holes in it."

The second voice made Val spin around again, tearing her eyes from the closed door. Liara's furious momentum had caught all her attention before, but now the armored figures that she'd vaguely registered as traveling in Liara's wake resolved themselves into deeply familiar figures.

"Garrus," she whispered, transfixed.

Continue reading at AO3 or ff.net.

[servantofclio]

Fic update: The Other Commander Shepard (4/?)

Fandom: Mass Effect

Summary: Val Shepard is the survivor of Mindoir, Hero of Elysium, first human Spectre, Savior of the Citadel, Destroyer of Bahak, and savior of the galaxy…… or is she?  Waking up as an ordinary Alliance officer, Shepard tries to make sense of the world around her, where everything seems changed.

Length: This chapter, 3800 words; overall, 15,000 words

Links: AO3, ff.net

Credits: Thanks to @theherocomplex and @probablylostrightnow for thoughtful and invaluable beta reading!

#

When she'd made enough progress in her recovery, Shepard was told she could leave her room if she liked for a little additional exercise, and take her meals in the cafeteria instead of in her room. She suspected she was saving someone a bit of work, not that it mattered. The opportunity to be out of her room, to look at something other than her four dingy walls and be around other people, was too good to pass up.

The food was still mostly packaged rations, but they were starting to get actual cooked food into the mix. It wasn't exactly flavorful, but it was something.

Nearly everyone in the cafeteria wore scrubs; it was a little hard to tell the patients from the staff, except for those people who were visibly bandaged or moving stiffly, like Shepard herself. Shepard took a seat at a long table with a quartet of people at one end, sitting with bent shoulders and carrying on an intense conversation that she couldn't quite hear.

She set to work eating her reconstituted eggs and bland oatmeal and tried to relax. As much as the novelty of being out and about was refreshing, something about the atmosphere in the room had her on edge.

Maybe she was just paranoid.

"I just don't like having those things out there!" said one of her tablemates, a woman with dark curly hair. Her voice rose as she said it, and she pushed away from the table a little.

"Well, as far as anyone can tell, they're fixing the mass relays, so," said the red-haired guy opposite her.

"They're hanging around the mass relays. We don't know what they're doing to them," the woman countered.

The Reapers. They were talking about the Reapers. Shepard stabbed her fork into her eggs and froze, ears straining to hear more. Mama had said the Reapers were out there fixing things.

"I heard a turian patrol fired on one," said the third person, a petite Asian woman who reminded Shepard a little of Kasumi.

"What happened?" asked the redhead.

She shrugged. "It didn't retaliate, but the missiles didn't do anything. Just absorbed by shields, I guess."

"Did it communicate anything?" asked the fourth person, a tall thin black man. "I heard the asari have been hailing them, but they never get an answer."

Shepard swallowed as the four fell into a brief, anxious silence.

"I just wish we knew what was going on," the first woman complained, shaking her head. "All the relays blow in that freaky blue light, and then nothing. I'm telling you, it's creeping me out."

"We heard you," said the red-haired man with a sigh.

"I get it," said the Asian woman. "I'd be lying if I said I was calm about everything. But I think it's best if we focus on our patients."

The black man nodded. "Let the brass and the science wonks try to sort things out."

Shepard lifted her fork to her mouth and ate without tasting the food. She wondered, with a grim sense of humor, what conversations were going on in what was left of high command, behind closed doors. It was something of a relief not to be privy to it, not to have Hackett or one of the councilors calling her up and demand she fix it, somehow, don't tell us how, just make it better, Shepard.

Maybe it wasn't so bad, not being the Commander Shepard.

Continue reading at AO3 or ff.net.

[angelic1hp]

Hello

So I write fanfiction.

You can find me at Archive of our Own (AO3)

Or fanfiction.net.

At the moment I'm writing in the Mass Effect universe, working on a multi-chaptered fic She Is Omega posted at both of these sites. There's a one shot fluff Young up too.

There's also older Harry Potter femmeslash on fanfiction.net, longest and angsty-est being Image of You.

Evidently, I now also do fake tweets to while away the hours...

[sammyjstories-blog]

Autobiographical Eulogy

I run forward jumping head first into the beam. It's eerie green glow pervading my retina's and eating my brain. I can feel the changes. I can feel the integration of technology with my atoms on a molecular level. There is no pain, only an omniscience of being one with everything.

I think of my love, Liara. That amazing blue ass. The amazing mind behind that beautiful, child-like face. Alien chicks do it better. Earth girls might be easy, but Alien chicks know how to please me. Mind-melding sex, literally, is what I will miss the most.

I think of my brother-in-arms, Garrus. We've been through everything. I've seen him mature into a man (adult, lion, cat-like badass?) over the course of our time together. From someone simply looking to do what is right, to someone willing to go as far as needed to keep the peace (or create it), to a brother. Him I shall miss the most.

I think of all the races and creatures I've killed. All of the 'enemies' in my path. Everyone that tried to stop me from doing what I do best: save the galaxy.

I think of the Thresher that destroyed my squad on Akuze. I remember the screams, the terror, and the big ugly worm that ate them all.

I think of who I am, and what I've done.

I think of my other choices. Controlling the threat and using it as my own would have made me no better than the Illusive man. Destroying the threat would've meant my undoing and left all those that came to help Earth stranded in our corner of space.

I have made the right choice. A middle-of-the-road option meant to do away with the endless cycle of the death and rebirth of galactic civilization. I'm glad I didn't shoot that child.

As my body disintegrates into particles and melds with artificial life, I can feel my perceptions change. I can talk to radiowaves. I can see data packets and interact with them. I can see the life I've left behind as a slideshow of photos and memories. Each sound byte a new audio file in the supercomputer that is my brain. 

I watch as the wave of green energy rips across the galaxy and creates new life, and refines the old.

I see my ship and my crew crash on a planet. I am in the air, the trees, the dirt, and even in each of them. I know now that I shall never be forgotten. I know that my legacy will live on and that all children born henceforth shall be a part of me.

I am like a god, but I am not God. 

I am Commander Shepard. SSV Normandy, N7 Specialist, Council Spectre, and this is my eulogy.