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Chapter Text

+ Day 0

She couldn’t hear anything and couldn’t see much more than a vague canopy of something dark trapping her in place.

Everything hurt. She knew she’d been hit by Harbinger’s beam before she’d even reached the transport to the Citadel, had felt her armor melt into her skin and watched as pieces of it peeled off with every step she took. It wasn’t something she had time to pay attention to then.

Now? Now was different. She couldn’t move to catalogue her injuries, could barely think through the haze that pain created.

She closed her eyes. She didn’t expect to wake up again.

+ Day 17

The rubble was shifting. She still can’t hear anything, but there’s a small beam of light breaking the monotony of the darkness. A large figure – it’s too blurry to make out who or what it is – peers down the hole, and more shadowy figures spring up out of nowhere at its bellow.

She hears Ashley’s voice coming from the Catalyst at her side, and lets herself fall to darkness again in the comfort of her poetry.

+ Day 44

She blinked against the light, surprised she could make out that there was a ceiling above her, not just some unidentifiable rubble. She couldn’t move, limbs full of lead and her head full of cotton, pain the only thing she could register.

But she was alive.

Wasn’t that something?

+ Day 60

For the first time since she began waking up, her head felt almost completely clear. Her hearing hadn’t fully returned yet and she had no voice, and sometimes everything around her was still blurry and everything was stiff, but she was awake.

Some nurse was at her side, adjusting an IV bag of antibiotics as Miranda checked her over yet again. “Your injuries are extensive, Shepard,” she said. “I know you weren’t fond of the cybernetics, but did you really have to burn them out of your nervous system?”

Carrine gave her a blank stare. It was hard to focus, and she was trying, but she didn’t have the energy to put up facial expressions just for the sake of doing so. The burns on her throat had damaged her voice box and her ability to eat, and the skin grafts along her right side had yet to fully take. She could finally move a little as long as she took it very slowly, and she turned her forearm over to check on her tattoos, ignoring the conversation between Miranda and the nurse. Parts of them had been singed off, she discovered, only some letters of the words remaining. Mindoir, Akuze, Alchera – she should probably add the Citadel to the list of places she’s died now, too.

Only parts of the letters remained. Only a few parts of her were still whole. There was something ironic about it.

Miranda had propped her up into a sitting position, taking advantage of the fact that Carrine couldn’t curse her out for treating her like a child. There was a metal brace along her entire right leg to her hip, a cast on her left, and her entire torso was bandaged and settled into a brace. She could feel more bandages wrapped around her head now that her hair was gone, but Miranda still hadn’t told her how bad the injuries were, and she knew nothing of the internal problems. Unable to use her voice and with limited use of her hands, Carrine couldn’t even use the little sign language Kaidan had taught her years ago, when his migraines were made worse by using his voice.

Nobody had even brought up the Normandy to her, and it wasn’t like she could ask. Miranda and her nurses were the only people who’d been near her that she’d seen since she was brought to the hospital, and they weren’t likely to give her any answers.

She hated biding her time.

+ Day 75

“Shepard!”

The boom of Wrex’s voice was the first thing to bring a smile to her face since she’d woken up from her medical coma fifteen days ago. He barely fit into the room, but dragged another cot over to sit next to her regardless.

“Knew you’d make it out, you lucky varren.” She rolled her eyes at him, still unable to talk but incredibly glad to see a friendly face that wasn’t part of her medical team. It didn’t feel like a fake expression this time.

But this was Wrex. He’d give her an honest answer. She smacked his arm with her good one and pointed to the tablet at the foot of her bed that Miranda had left for her. He handed it over to her while going on about the krogan having to do all the heavy lifting in the recovery.

‘Where are they?’ she typed before shoving the tablet in his face.

His eyes narrowed. “What, the Normandy? They haven’t told you? Pyjaks,” he huffed, cracking his neck. “Your ship’s been MIA since you hit the Citadel. They’re nowhere in the system that anyone’s searched yet, so best guess is they hit the relay before it exploded.”

Her stomach dropped. No wonder no one had told her what had happened. ‘Damage?’

“Do I look like I know what damage your ship took, Shepard?”

She gave him a look, one that had brought several high-ranking officers to heel during the war, and he shrugged, waiting for her to continue. ‘To Earth. Relays. No news.’ Stretching her fingers to type even just that little bit burned, but she ignored it. She shook her head as she held it back out to him, clearing the whispers from her mind and the wisp at the edge of her vision. The image of the Catalyst was always trying to catch her full attention.

He looked at her critically for a moment before he answered. “The relays are gone. Whatever the Crucible did fried them completely. Everyone’s stranded here, my people, yours, turians, quarians. It’s a mess out there, Shepard. Good thing I’m here to yell at people since you’re taking a vacation in bed. They’ve been sending out search parties, rotating the ships still flight worthy every few days to check the sector. A few more have been brought in, but they’re mostly fighters or dreadnaughts, not your frigate.”

‘The Citadel?’ she asked. ‘Anderson?’

Wrex exhaled, sympathy on his scarred face. No. “Citadel’s gone, Shepard. It’s in pieces floating above Earth; they’re not sure how much can be put back together. One of the teams recovered Anderson’s body just before they found you.” Carrine’s expression must have betrayed her, but he continued. “Grunt was leading a recon team, called me when he found what looked like Citadel rubble. A lot of people had given up, but we knew you, Shepard.” He redirected himself from clapping her on the shoulder, settling for tapping on the side of her bed. “Seventeen days buried under that shit wasn’t gonna kill you of all people.”

‘How bad? No one will tell me.’

He shrugged. “I don’t know all the medical stuff, but it was bad. Some of the recovery team wanted to declare you dead right there; you smelled dead, Shepard, and a krogan can smell death a mile away. Grunt wasn’t having it, knocked him out and brought you here himself. Wouldn’t accept your death as an answer.”

She smiled, the edges tugging on still healing skin. Good ol’ Grunt. But it left her wondering, why had Miranda refused to disclose how bad things were? She knew about the skin graft and the plating in her right leg, and her vision was slowly becoming normal again; the remaining damage wasn’t anything that a laser procedure couldn’t correct.

She’d have to talk to Miranda soon.

+ Day 90

Her hands had recovered enough for her to start signing again, even though she was rusty and her left one remained stiff. Figures that the one not on the burned side of her body had more problems. Miranda had sent someone by every day after she’d woken up to help her improve; her voice showed no sign of returning anytime soon. She couldn’t do anything complicated, but it was enough for her to be able to talk without the aid of a computer to those who knew phrases – she still struggled with individual letters – although she still had to when Wrex or anyone who couldn’t sign came by.

She’d finally cornered Miranda into giving her details on what happened during her coma. Nearly all of her cybernetics and her amp had been completely fried in the explosion, and their failure had led to almost total organ failure after the extremes her body was forced to endure upon re-entry to Earth, and that wasn’t even accounting for the damage from the blunt-force trauma she had taken in the final battle before they rushed the beam. The brain damage alone should have been catastrophic, but the amp and implants had taken the brunt of the damage. She’d had grafts and donor tissue implanted while in her coma, and Miranda was glad to report her body was taking them exceptionally well given the circumstances. It’s why she was still on IV antibiotics after such a long time.

Miranda honestly hadn’t expected her to survive, much less wake up mostly coherent after about two months. Carrine saw the moment she bit back calling her survival a miracle.

Carrine reminded her she won’t rest until she has the Normandy in her sights.

“Absolutely not,” Miranda said, cutting her off before she could get much steam. “There’s no way I’m letting you have medical clearance to help with any of the search parties.”

Her hand curled into a fist, the regrown skin tight from lack of use.. She’d been stuck in this bed for months now, and the restlessness was getting to be too much to bear. Hackett had ordered a team of psychologists to evaluate and help her, knowing her reckless streak, but what did any of them know? They didn’t know the hell she’d been through. She wanted her crew back in arm’s reach. She wanted to be better at ignoring the Catalyst that kept skirting into her peripheral vision. She wanted her gun.

“Shepard, you can’t even stand without support, much less handle being on a ship with only artificial gravity right now,” Miranda continued. “You haven’t even been able to complete a full round of physical therapy yet, and honestly I shouldn’t even let you be doing that much given how badly your leg was destroyed.” The reminder of her new knee and metal femur left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she could feel her biotics trying to come alive.

Miranda felt them at the same time. “Don’t do it, Shepard.”

‘Or what?’ she signed. ‘Going to lock me up? Tell me I’m a lost cause?’ She resisted the urge to raise her middle finger at Miranda.

“You need to recover, Shepard! We all know what you’re capable of, but you’ve given enough, you need to rest!”

You’ve given enough, the Catalyst whispered in her ear. Dammit. She didn’t have to look to know the transparent figure was somewhere to her right. They don’t need you as their sacrifice anymore.

‘Leave.’

“Shepard –”

‘Get out!’ She threw her water bottle in Miranda’s direction, but she was so weak it barely cleared the edge of the hospital bed. Miranda’s expression closed up as she turned to leave, hitting the lock as she stepped outside the room.

They’d thought you were dead, Ashley chimed in. They would’ve left you to die. The sacrificial lamb, just like me. How does it feel, Shepard? To be left behind by those you trusted, to see them move on with their lives while you can’t?

For the first time in years, she hung her head and cried.

Chapter Text

+ Day 113

Her hearing had improved to where she could make out that it was Miranda talking to one of the psychologists on the other side of her door some fifteen feet away. She’d been silent the entire time the psychologist tried talking to her during the appointment, her brown eyes warm and her tone perfectly kind and professional. But she couldn’t understand, and Shepard couldn’t explain.

How do you explain that you’d expected to die? That you’d accepted it? That you’d accepted that the cost of winning the war was your own life in exchange for preserving the lives of trillions, to prevent this tragedy from ever happening again? That the galaxy stopped seeing you as a person, that you’d become a tool, an instrument of war, the only one capable of putting the last piece of the puzzle into place?

How can you accept that there’s a future when you’d lost any hope of having one?

Why should she bother when nearly everyone she’s ever cared about is dead or missing? When Anderson died leaning on her shoulder? When Miranda won't give her an answer about her brother’s location, when the Normandy had been missing for four months without a trace to be had? When Kaidan wasn’t here?

Wrex couldn’t stop by often. The Alliance had struck an agreement with him, enlisting the krogan to get some of the rubble moving since most of the machinery was destroyed. He was the only one that could command enough respect among the stranded krogan to get the job done, and she wouldn't begrudge him that. Grunt had been banned from seeing her until she was more recovered, his enthusiasm too likely to result in injuring Carrine further. Talking to Miranda felt more clinical than it had when they barely liked each other, and Carrine was willing to bet she was trying not to say anything for "her own safety." The secrets went unsaid between them, and it left the air sour. Hackett couldn’t leave command in London, of what was left of HQ. They’d spoken through a comm link with a translator, but it wasn’t much, and he left her more in the dark than Miranda did. She was surrounded by red tape and confidential information and her new physical limitations.

She felt well and truly alone, her only frequent company in the shape of a transparent figure she wanted to beg her mind to forget. Sometimes it just looked like the Catalyst. Sometimes it imitated Ashley. It always used her voice. She wasn’t sure that it wasn’t real.

But it had her doubting that they’d won. What if the Catalyst had simply jumped ship, taking root somewhere in her brain instead of dying when the Crucible fired and the Reapers fell? Was she simply hallucinating, her mind too exhausted from the stress of war to keep up anymore? Had she been indoctrinated, like the Illusive Man had been? Would she slowly lose the little sanity she had left?

She had no answers to give when she was asked what happened. It sounded fantastical, even to herself, and she’d lived through it. She’d fired her Eagle straight into the heart of one of the pillars of the central chamber of the Crucible. She remembered the thick black smoke that had poured out as it primed itself to fire, the heat of the flames that felt like they would eat her alive.

Yet it was here, sitting where Wrex would when he stopped by, kicking its feet as if it were an actual child. It wasn’t always here. She’d blink and it would be gone, making her doubt it was there in the first place.

Miranda had ordered for her to not have frequent visitors, citing that it would cause more undue stress than Carrine’s recovery could handle. It’s not like anyone would believe her if she brought up the hallucinations, anyways. She’d just have to deal with it.

Just like she’s always dealt with everything else. Alone.

+ Day 127

Miranda looked at her, concern creasing her brow. Carrine gave her a blank look in return. She didn’t have the energy to fake any kind of pleasantries today, not after a day of physical therapy for her knee.

“Dr. Amal has indicated several times that you’re showing signs of depression, Shepard,” she said carefully, “but that you’re refusing to talk about anything. We can’t help you if you don’t cooperate.”

Carrine looked away from her, staring unseeingly at the wall. She didn’t want to have this conversation. She felt useless more days than not, and they made sure she didn’t have access to anything that would let her be productive, so all she had was to sit with her thoughts. With that stupid fucking hallucination interrupting her every few hours.

“Shepard.”

She returned her attention to Miranda, who now looked even more concerned. For the first time, she could really see the bags under the other woman’s eyes and wondered just how little sleep she was actually getting.

“When was the last time you slept through the night?”

She would’ve laughed if she’d been able to. She settled for giving Miranda the sharpest grin she could manage. She doubted it was much. ‘Before Lazarus,’ she signed. 

Miranda sighed, rubbing her forehead. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, small strands poking out around her neck, unusually untidy. “Shepard, honestly. I’m worried about you.”

Carrine stared at her, blank look unchanging. Big words for someone creating her restrictions. ‘Why?’

“‘Why?’” Miranda looked a bit alarmed. “Shepard – Carrine, you’re my friend, of course I’m worried about you. You aren’t sleeping, sometimes I don’t think you even notice when other people are in the room, you go catatonic for hours at a time, and you haven’t even tried to make a sound. You don’t eat anything, you don’t even try arguing for arguing’s sake. You aren’t acting like yourself.”

‘Why bother?’ she barely had the energy to sign, but if she didn’t, Miranda would drag out the tablet. She’d rather do this herself before that gets taken away from her too.

“Why bo – Shepard. I need you to answer me honestly.” She approached the bed, being careful to avoid jostling Carrine as she sat down. “Do you wish you’d died in the explosion?”

Right to the point, huh?  Now was a really bad fucking time for the stupid Catalyst to pop its head up. She glanced over, hearing the smugness in its voice. Guess she knows you were the sacrifice after all.

“Shepard, please focus,” Miranda said quietly, dragging Carrine’s attention back to the furrow in the other woman’s brow. “Do you wish you hadn’t survived?”

Be honest, Carrine chided herself. Her bitterness will not help here, no matter how much she wants to let it show. So slowly, haltingly, she nodded.

A shuddered breath left Miranda, and she closed her eyes tightly. “I’m so sorry. All these months and – I haven’t been helping you at all. This isn’t helping you at all.”

Carrine didn’t reply, turning her gaze to the corner of the bed. What can you say to that? Miranda had been right. She wasn’t strong enough to be on the search teams, the Alliance didn’t want news of her survival being out because she’d be swarmed by the media, and news about recovered ships was kept only to the top brass and the next of kin of the crews. The hallucinations haunted her in her waking hours, the screams in her nightmares kept her awake. Her friends were dead or missing, she had nothing to go off of about Ian, Anderson was dead, and people had better things to do than coddle a broken soldier.

‘You’ve had better things to do,’ she eventually replied.

“Shepard, no,” Miranda argued, but Carrine held up a hand to cut her off. She swallowed her pride and reached for the tablet.

‘No. My part’s done. I did my job, and the world has to keep going. Everyone can move on now that I’ve done what needed to be done. Harbinger is dead. The Reapers are gone. That was what Hackett told me to do – get it done, no matter the cost, and it was my life on the price tag.’

“And what would your crew do if they lost you, Shepard?” she argued. “You were the only thing that held that crew together, each and every one of them would die for you. When – when Cerberus was monitoring you, they watched your crew, too. Alenko especially put himself in the line of fire to cover you more often than not. After you went down, they were all tagged as people of interest, but when they scattered…he was the only one that didn’t move on in some way. One of the operatives on the Citadel kept tabs on him under the Illusive Man’s orders. I don’t think he was kidding when he said your death destroyed him on Horizon, Shepard.” She looked up, waiting until Carrine’s gaze met hers again before pushing on. “Why did you hold on, Shepard? You survived under that rubble for seventeen days with no food, no water, holding on to life with fragments of a thread. Why did you hold on?”

Her last conversation with Kaidan flickered through her mind, hands gripping hands tightly as they spoke with their heads down, noses brushing together, the grime and sweat unimportant as they clung to each other. “I’ll be waiting for you,” he’d said, “and you’d better show up. I can’t lose you again.”

‘I promised I’d show up,’ she replied, ‘but I woke up to everyone gone. No one’s here now. They have their own lives to fix, no one has time for this.’ She gestured at herself, mostly at her damaged leg and scarred torso. She still hadn’t seen her face, had no idea what the damage looked like aside from the hair that was just starting to grow back in. ‘No one needs the sacrifice that survived the impossible.’

Miranda stared at her, horror written across her features, unable to keep up a professional veneer. “Shepard, is that what you think you are? Just someone we threw to the wolves and abandoned?” She didn’t get a response as Carrine continued to stare blankly at her. “That’s not – no.”

‘I’ve been in here alone for months. Wrex and Hackett are leading recovery and reconstruction. I’m not whole enough to do anything. No one outside of this hospital knows I’m even alive. I don’t have a purpose anymore. I should’ve just –’

Miranda grabbed her hands, stopping her from continuing. “Don’t, Shepard. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Carrine blinked, frowning in confusion at the choke in Miranda’s voice. Sorry for what? She'd done her job.

“We – I failed you. I’ve done this wrong. You deserve better than this.” She released Carrine’s hands in order to bring up her omnitool, sending off a message to somewhere. “Tomorrow is going to be different. I’m not going to leave you to this fight alone, Shepard. Not anymore.”

Carrine wanted to believe her, but hope was a dangerous thing, and she’d learned to let go of it a long time ago.

+ Day 137

Miranda had kept her word. She’d found a wheelchair somewhere in the hospital, and helped Carrine down into it. Her leg had to be extended, the muscle not recovered enough to give her any flexibility. Requisitioning it had taken some time, but Miranda eventually got her way.

The first thing Carrine demanded was an in-person meeting with Hackett. She’d been found near Williams Lake in Canada, across the globe from where she’d last been on Earth. They’d gotten her to a hospital in Vancouver, but the city was barely functioning. Trying to organize for Hackett to get there had been a challenge, but he’d agreed to come as soon as he could.

Miranda had found a jacket loose enough for her to wear, and a blanket served to cover the rest of her body. Nothing would fit over the brace on her leg, and tight clothing would only have irritated the healing skin grafts. She refused to let Miranda fully cover the bandages or clean them up – she wanted Hackett to see exactly what she’d been through, protocol and decorum be damned.

She’d been the sacrifice. Everyone who saw her would have to live with seeing the carnage rejection offered in return.

They arrived at the small hospital conference room, soldiers stationed at either end of the hallway and one of Wrex’s scouts guarding the door itself. Hackett looked like he’d aged ten years since she’d last seen him, and she’d bet she didn’t look much better. He stood as soon as they entered, extending his hand out to Carrine. She shook it as well as she could, ignoring her anger at how weak she was.

“I’ve got to say,” he started, “you look like hell, Commander.”

‘So do you, sir,’ she signed. She could get out a few sounds, but her voice was nowhere near well enough to speak yet, and she was too angry to use her voice on this meeting.

“I’m a bit rusty on my sign language, Commander. I had a tablet brought in in case there are any problems communicating if Miss Lawson cannot translate clearly enough for you.” She nodded in acceptance as he looked her over. “I can’t believe you’re alive.”

‘I almost wasn’t. Long way to go.’

“The fact that you’re looking at me like you want to strangle something tells me enough, Shepard. If you’re angry, you’re alive to be angry.”

She paused. Was she really that easily read? Or maybe he just considered to be as old of a soldier as he was, now. It was a disconcerting thought.

“So. What can I do for you, Commander?” he asked, shaking her from her thoughts.

Miranda pulled up her omnitool, opening the list she and Carrine had created. “In order for Shepard to properly recover, I believe it is in her best interest to open her to contact outside the hospital, and possibly assist in the recovery efforts. I would also like to retract the visitor ban and allow news of her survival to be made public.”

Hackett mulled over the requests. “I don’t think outside contact is going to be the best idea, Commander. You haven’t seen how chaotic things have been. I have no problems with the visitation as long as a guard is present.”

“That could easily be myself or one of Wrex’s scouts,” Miranda offered. “Or any Alliance officer trustworthy enough.”

Carrine stopped herself from rolling her eyes. She hated the idea of having a guard, but her biotics were to stay offline until she was healthy enough for a new amp to be installed, and it’s not like she could aim a gun. ‘Let me help.’

“You’re not going to be out moving rubble, Shepard, and we’re not going to put you on PR. You’ve done enough.”

Carrine snarled, all but baring her teeth at him; he didn’t react. She hated that line. She snatched up the tablet, too angry to make her hands work properly. ‘I’m not some useless soldier, sir. I can listen to a fucking QEC radio for transmissions at the least.’

Hackett kept his expression neutral at her insubordination. “I’m going to ignore your tone, Shepard. I still don’t think it’s a good idea. QEC is barely back online and we only have two comm buoys working in the Sol system right now, they’re taxed to capacity as it is. I need them monitored for all traffic, not just for the Normandy.”

She bristled, and Miranda placed a hand on her uninjured shoulder. “With all due respect, Admiral, I believe being unable to do anything has been worse for Shepard’s mental health than any kind of taxation could possibly be. While she would certainly be hoping to hear from the Normandy, I sincerely doubt that Shepard would just pass over a hail from any ship seeking safety.”

“I’ll consider it,” he said, but it sounded like a no. “How public do you want to be about your recovery? Full media, a press conference, or just Alliance officers and surviving Council diplomats?”

She hadn’t thought he’d actually agree to that part and shrugged in response. Miranda took over for her. “A media statement would be enough for right now until we can gauge the public’s reaction. If it’s enthusiastic and Shepard is healthy enough, we’ll see about a press conference. I’m not going to risk putting her in any more danger.”

“I don’t think it will put her in danger, but that’s why I’m going to assign a guard to her room,” Hackett said. “People are desperate. They want answers why their sons and daughters are missing, why the Reapers seemed to just fall over after the Crucible fired. People are going to be cruel about this, Commander. The aftermath is never pretty.” He looked at her, studying for her reaction. “Can you handle it?”

Carrine nodded. She needed a purpose, she felt lost without one.

She didn’t see the Catalyst that day.

+ Day 150

The Alliance had issued a statement to every remaining journalist they could find, and feedback had been pouring in over the headline.

Shepard Lives. Two simple words centered over her military ID photo, followed by an entire issue dedicated to her survival and recovery progress - what wasn't classified, that is - and with all the names of ships and their crews known to still be missing. She insisted that they be listed, because she was going to find a way to fight for them. Everyone still alive deserved to come home. It gave her a purpose, something to focus on, and if she kept herself occupied, the Catalyst wasn’t as frequent a visitor and was easier to ignore when it did show up.

The public was overjoyed. She couldn’t believe it. She had expected most of them to be angry at her for surviving the impossible when so many had lost their children, their parents, their aunts and uncles and friends, but they’d welcomed the story of her survival with open arms.

She was also going to be allowed her first visitors. A few officers that helped lead the Fifth Fleet and the asari and quarian fleets were already scheduled to stop by, all with strict visitation time limits enforced by Miranda. She was nervous, but it was good to feel something other than the apathy and disappointment that she’d survived. Her psychologist wasn’t happy that she refused medication, but agreed that the busy-work was a good enough temporary solution.

Two civilians had requested visitation for her, which she noted were both personally flagged by Hackett. He’d be accompanying them himself, not sending them in with one of his officers. Given how limited his time was before he had to return in London, she couldn't see why they warranted a high-level escort.

“That’s unusual,” Miranda noted. “It doesn’t list their names, either.” Carrine shrugged. What could a civilian really do, surrounded by military personnel and against Miranda?

The traffic wound down in the early afternoon, and Hackett knocked on the door shortly after the sun began to lower itself, entering with two women behind him. Carrine’s heart sank as she recognized one of them.

“Commander,” Hackett said. “I’ve brought a Miss Tarah Shepard and a Mrs. Lana Alenko here upon request.”

Miranda’s hand covered her mouth in surprise. Carrine’s eyes hadn’t shifted from Kaidan’s mother the moment she stepped into the room. The woman’s eyes were lined with fatigue and worry, hair as dark as his swept into a neat braid that went with her crisp attire, the scarf wrapped around her shoulders showing only a little of the dust that was still falling outside.

“Shepard,” she began, but Carrine couldn’t stop herself.

“Sorry,” she croaked, voice cracked and bruised with damage and disuse, tears threatening to spill over, all completely out of her control. The emotions hit her like a dreadnought, and she had no hope of stopping the onslaught. “I – sorry.”

Lana stepped around Hackett, sweeping her into a tight hug. Carrine clung to her shoulder for dear life, and let her tears fall.

She faintly heard Hackett had stepping out, ushering a complaining Tarah Shepard out with him. Miranda stayed nearby, just outside of the door that was left propped open, trying to give them some privacy.

“It’s alright, Shepard,” she whispered, tears evident in her own voice as she stepped back. “He’d be so happy to know you’re alive.”

Carrine just shook her head. She’d been pushing the Normandy out of her thoughts as much as she could, knowing that if she dwelled on the fact that she might never see Kaidan again it would break her. But here stood his mother, someone who held the exact same fear she did. Someone who would understand if she could actually make herself talk about it.

It had been years since they'd seen each other. She’d gone with Kaidan to his family’s home once during shore leave after the Battle of the Citadel, and she’d been nervous and awkward the entire time, mostly bonding with their dog or staying near Kaidan. But Lana and her husband, Charles, had welcomed her into their home and never once made a note of her awkwardness.

But Charles was gone now. She’d been monitoring the names of soldiers found, and she’d seen an Alenko pop up on a list of the deceased only a few days ago, just before news of her own survival was announced. Her heart broke seeing it, but there was nothing she could do, that the MIA Kaidan had feared had the worst outcome imaginable. And now, Kaidan might be –

No. He promised he’d come back to her, that she wouldn’t have to know what life would be like without him. She had to put her faith in him in to come home to her.

Lana straightened up, wiping tears from her own face before taking one of the chairs across from Carrine. “Hackett said you hadn’t recovered your voice yet, Commander.”

Carrine tapped her arm to get her attention. ‘I haven’t,’ she signed. ‘That…was the first time since I’ve woken up that I’ve spoken.’ And her throat was aching because of it, but she wouldn’t admit that.

The worry lines eased somewhat as she watched Carrine, replaced with something pained and warm. “He told me, years ago, that you’d asked him to teach you to sign because of the migraines. I’m so –” she stopped for a moment, gathering herself before she continued. “I’m sorry, Shepard. I keep bringing Kaidan up. It’s torture not having any news.”

‘I know.’

“Someone came by to tell me about Charles, and it was all I could do to keep hoping my boy’s name wouldn’t show up on a list of the deceased. Then your name showed up in the headlines, and – well, I know what you meant to him. If he can’t be here, I can be. I’m guessing you could use a friend.”

Carrine blinked. She hadn’t talked to Lana much all those years ago, but she was seeing how much Kaidan took after her. She cared in the same way that Kaidan did, and she missed him so much in that moment she wanted to cry again. Her emotions were a roiling ocean, and she was lost how to navigate it. 

‘I could,’ she replied, forcing herself to pull together, ‘but…why? So much work needs to be done yet. It could have waited.’ She wasn't sure what Lana did, exactly, but the badge she wore under her scarf was an essential infrastructure employee. She was undoubtedly as busy as Hackett.

“Shepard, I’m going to tell you a story,” she began, ignoring Carrine's question. “When Kaidan was posted to the SR1 so many years ago, I got a message from him. He was incredibly excited to be serving under you and Anderson. Three weeks later, I get a very panicked call about you and a Prothean beacon and him being an impulsive idiot. He hung up on me and called back an hour later because you had woken up. I hadn't seen him react so strongly, so protectively, over someone in ages, and I started wondering what you were like. Everything about you was classified, but if my son thought so highly of you, you must be someone with merit. I got a few messages here and there, but I didn’t hear much until I got a vid-call months later. My heart stopped seeing him in a med-bay, still in armor and covered with soot. He told me what he could about Virmire, and he felt guilty that he was relieved he survived, and ashamed that he wanted to survive more than he was willing to put his life on the line. Do you know why, Shepard?”

Her throat was tight as she nodded. She remembered that argument with Kaidan. It wasn’t a happy memory.

Lana continued. “I didn’t hear from him again until I saw coverage of the Citadel being attacked and saw the Normandy’s involvement in the battle, then he calls me a day later and says he’s bringing his commanding officer home with him come shore leave. But watching you two around each other, even if you didn’t realize it then, you had something. When the Normandy was lost and you went down with it, I’d never seen him so heartbroken, not even after BAaT. Part of him went down with you that day, Shepard, I hope you know that.” She did. God, did she know, and she hated herself for it. “I finally got him to be up and around the house for a little bit one day after he’d drank himself to sleep again, and I remember him looking at me with these horribly hollow eyes and asking me why it was you who died and not him.”

Carrine closed her eyes, her chest tight with pain. Kaidan hadn’t told her this, she didn’t want to know that her death had caused him that kind of pain. ‘Why are you telling me this?’ she asked, her hands shaking.

“So that you understand why I’m here. He loves you enough that he would have rather died than survive losing you. He called me from the Citadel before all this, you know, from some fancy apartment’s bedroom.” The apartment on the Strip, she'd bet. “He was so excited to show me his first tattoo, a set of initials on his ring finger that I was eagerly told had a match on another hand.”

Carrine automatically offered her hand to Lana, the black ink of Kaidan’s initials in his handwriting stark against her skin. Lana smiled sadly. “I figured as much. He was never one for rules once he found something more important to him.”

‘So this is for Kaidan?’

Lana sighed. “In a way. Shepard, I know what you meant to my son. It’s – forgive me, I know it’s selfish, but I needed to know what he meant to you. Your reaction told me everything I needed.”

‘He promised me,’ Carrine said. ‘He promised he’d come home.’

Lana smiled at her, eyes a bit watery again. “It’s a good thing he never breaks a promise, then.”

+ Day 151

“I am her AUNT, the only other living family she HAS, you can NOT keep me out of that room!”

Carrine groaned. Tarah Shepard had been told yesterday to leave, as Lana had stayed late to talk with Shepard and she was exhausted afterwards. It wasn’t an answer the woman was pleased with.

Miranda stood guard on the side of Carrine’s bed that faced the door. She was able to bend her left leg enough to give her balance while sitting, but her right remained in a brace, and Miranda was concerned her aunt would get physical. Lana wouldn’t be back to visit for a few days, trying to reestablish order within the international bank she worked for, and Tarah had demanded visitation.

Carrine understood why her father had wanted nothing to do with his sister, now. And only living family? Please. Ian had finally contacted Miranda late the previous night – he was alive, just not somewhere with any signal strength. But he was safe and alive and it was more than she expected. It was all she needed.

Tarah finally got through the door, her heels making an irritating clacking sound against the tile floor. Her dirty blonde hair – the only thing they had in common – was pulled up into a high ponytail, clearly annoyed that her demands had not been immediately met. She looked disdainfully at the chair she sat in. “Carrine?”

Carrine stared at her dryly. ‘It’s Shepard.’

Tarah rolled her eyes. “Sure, okay. I knew bad things were going to happen as soon as Jason moved off-world, but what do I ever know. Mom knew, too. Too bad she died when the Reapers followed you here.”

Carrine blinked. She wants to jump right into this? Seriously? ‘Did you just come here to complain to me or did you actually want something?’

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” she sighed, pretending she hadn’t understood Carrine a moment ago. “Can’t you speak yet?”

“No, she can’t,” Miranda snapped. “Considering the extensive burns she received, her voice has not yet recovered, and I’m not going to push her progress to cater to your arrogance and misplaced sense of entitlement.” Tarah scowled at her, but Miranda wasn’t one to back down. “I can translate if you require it. She asked why you came here.”

“Because I’m her only other surviving family? Someone has to take care of her, I guess.”

Carrine’s blood boiled, feeling the burn of her biotics trying to come back online whether she wanted them to or not. 

“Shepard,” Miranda warned, shooting a glance at her. “That won’t be necessary, Tarah. Her brother is still alive, and he is higher priority as next of kin than you are.”

“She’s in a wheelchair and she can’t talk, what good is she doing right now anyways?”

The table nearby toppled over, causing Tarah to jump back in alarm and Miranda to immediately turn her focus on Carrine. The blue shimmer of her aura was sparking, the uncontrolled biotics struggling against her will. “Shepard, focus on me.” Miranda forced her own biotics over Carrine’s to prevent them from lashing out again, keeping herself calm as Carrine did her best to put hers in tune with Miranda’s.

She hated doing this with anyone but Kaidan. She’d had to merge her biotics with Miranda before, back when she had no idea how to control them even with an amp, but without one they were very dangerous, and she was fragile enough as it is.

She shook her head as she heard the Catalyst for the first time in days. Can’t even manage this much, can you? Should’ve just given up.

Fuck off, she thought, taking a deep breath as she finally felt herself begin to calm down.

Miranda released the barrier as she stepped back from Carrine. “Better?” She nodded in response as Tarah stared at her.

“What the hell was that?”

Miranda all but rolled her eyes as she put herself between them. “Shepard is a biotic. If you’re going to do nothing but aggravate her, I’m going to suggest that you leave.”

Tarah seemed to bite her tongue for the first time since she’d arrived. “Do you even care that pretty much everyone else is dead, Carrine?”

This is why you should be dead, too, the Catalyst helpfully supplied.

Carrine grit her teeth, ignoring it. ‘I can’t go back and change Mindoir, Tarah. I can’t help some family member that I’ve never even spoken to before, much less someone that didn’t even care that I existed.’ Miranda translated as she signed. ‘All Dad ever told me was that you and his parents didn’t agree with him when he and Mom decided to take up the Alliance’s offer of a colony home. I wasn’t even born yet – how could I have argued?’

“Your grandmother died because of those things, and you don’t even care,” Tarah spat. “Maybe it was you they wanted all along, have you thought of that? Maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t been born! Then maybe those fucking Reapers never would have come here, because you pissed them off!”

“That’s enough!” Miranda snapped, grabbing Tarah’s arm and dragging her to the door before turning to the guard. “Escort her off the property and do not ever let her near Shepard, am I understood?”

“Yes, Miss Lawson,” the guard replied, already blocking Tarah from trying to yell into the room.

Miranda shut the door quickly to block out the rest of the noise. “Are you alright, Shepard?”

Her jaw was tense. Tarah hadn’t said anything she hadn’t already said to herself, but hearing it from another person was harder. The Collectors had said it, the Reaper on Rannoch had said it, the fucking Leviathan had said it: the Reapers saw her, personally, individually, as a threat. Harbinger left the fleet orbiting Earth to personally take her out when she was running for the Citadel beam.

What if her existence was a catalyst?

Twisted laughter echoed from her right, the Catalyst shimmering just out of her sight. Isn’t that ironic?

She still hadn’t told Miranda about the hallucinations, or her psychologist. They’d probably try to drug her, and the last thing she wanted was more medication in her system. The anti-rejection medications and IV shit she had to get were bad enough. She would endure.

‘I’m fine,’ she lied. ‘Just can’t believe I’m related to someone like her.’

“Family,” Miranda agreed. “Ian should be here in the next week or two. I’ll make sure you can see him as soon as he arrives.”

Carrine nodded her thanks. He’d be a welcome reprieve from mess recovery was turning out to be.

Chapter Text

+ Day 165

It took two weeks for Ian to arrive after being stranded, somehow, in Arizona. She'd been told he’d arrived in Vancouver last night when Miranda had left to retrieve him from the landing zone, but she wasn’t going to deny them a chance to be alone. She was pretty sure this is the first time Miranda had been off hospital grounds since she'd woken up.

The Catalyst had been cajoling her all night about it. They have what you’ll never get back. A happy ending. Should’ve let go. It had held on to that mantra into the early hours of the morning when she was finally able to start going through the reports Hackett had cleared her for.

They weren’t much, but it gave her something to do. She was to distribute personnel to different recovery sites on Earth, and to give final authorization on some of the smaller search parties. He wouldn’t give her clearance to help with the QEC signals yet given that her voice hadn't recovered to a point where it could be used often, but she was determined to get access. As much as she wanted the Normandy back, it wasn't the only one missing. Her crew weren't the only people missing.

Shepard wanted to give them all a chance to get home, wherever that may be now.

Ian came up to her room just after dawn, the grin on his face contagious as he hugged her as gently as he could manage in his excitement. “Carr, I’m so happy you made it out.”

She squeezed his shoulder before pushing him back a little. She didn’t know if Miranda had told him the extent of everything, or that she still couldn’t respond verbally.

“I know, Miri told me you couldn’t talk yet,” he said, sitting down carefully to avoid hitting her leg. “I don’t understand sign language beyond, y'know, single finger salute, but I have a tablet so we can talk.”

‘Thanks,’ she typed. ‘How much did Miranda tell you?’

“Enough that I wish I’d been here sooner. Carr, I’m so sorry.” He looked at her, frustration and exhaustion etched into his face. His hair had grown out, and he hadn’t bothered to shave before visiting her, grey hairs and probably ash throwing off the dirty blonde hair they shared.

‘You look like Dad with your beard,’ she said, not wanting to talk about this and knowing he wouldn't take the bait.

His expression went flat. “Don’t change the subject.”

It was worth a shot. ‘Not changing it if a conversation doesn’t start.’

“Yeah, we’re not gonna do that today. Miri filled me in on the physical damage, but she wouldn’t answer me on how you’re feeling. Carr.” She noticed him running a fingernail in circles on his palm, a habit of agitation he'd never been able to break. She wasn't sure if it was at her or the topic he was determined to bring up.

‘I’m fine, Ian.' He doesn't need to know.

He snorted. “You’re an awful liar, Carr. You look like absolute shit.”

‘Always with the compliments.’

“Roadkill looks healthier than you do right now." The flatness faded, softening into something much more - tired? Resigned? She wasn't sure. "I heard Tarah came by.”

Carrine clenched her fist in the sheet. She was glad Miranda had banned her from the hospital. ‘Yeah, that was an experience.’

Ian scratched at his chin. “I don’t remember much, but I remember her and Dad’s mom seeing us off when we left for acclimation training – you hadn’t been born yet. She was a bitch then, doesn’t seem like anything’s changed.”

A small smile cracked her face. ‘She doesn’t mince words.’

“It’s a family trait.” He leaned back a bit, rolling his neck to release some tension. His hands stopped fidgeting. “But really, how are you doing?”

She considered the question. This was Ian. He’d always been there for her, he wasn’t going to judge her if she sounded crazy. He might rib her for it, but he wouldn’t leave her. She hoped. He already caught her lying once; she doubted trying a second time would do any good. Something about sibling instincts, he'd said once when they were kids.

That felt like a few lifetimes ago. She tried not to think about how it was an actual lifetime ago for her.

‘It’s…not great,’ she finally typed, hesitating every few words. ‘Sometimes, a lot of things don’t feel real. I don’t feel like I’m me. Like maybe it wasn’t just me that got pulled from the rubble.’

“Not just you?” he frowned, glancing at the screen and then her, eyes scanning her face.

Carrine hesitated, fingers hovering above the tablet, the Catalyst’s voice burning in her mind. No one is going to believe you. You where the lamb sent to slaughter, they don’t care about the one that should be dead.

She deliberated. She decided. ‘When the Crucible docked, it didn’t fire right away.’ This was Ian, she reminded herself, not her psychologist. ‘I heard Hackett tell me to fix it, and I tried crawling to the console before I blacked out from the pain.’ Her side ached in sympathy, the graft still healing over. She hadn’t regained any feeling there; Miranda warned her it might never return, the nerve endings too damaged to regenerate. ‘I woke up to the main pillars of the Crucible before me, and met the AI that controlled the Reaper invasion every cycle.’

She couldn't talk about Anderson. About the Illusive Man. Not yet.

Not yet.

“What?” Ian startled. “Seriously?”

Carrine nodded. He looked troubled, but she pressed on. If she stopped now, she wouldn’t start again. ‘We talked, and I realized the Crucible gave me…options? I guess. I could direct the blast to try and control the Reapers, but honestly, that was bullshit. No way that wasn’t what they wanted – they didn’t want to be destroyed. It offered me the chance to bring about fusion, to blend all synthetic and organic life. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t make that kind of decision, I couldn’t force people to accept something like that when I couldn’t when Cerberus forced it on me.’

Ian rested his hand on her healed ankle. She hadn’t realized she’d started shaking. “It’s alright, Carr. You did what you had to do.”

She took a breath before typing again. Her hands were shaking enough for mistakes, but the words wouldn't stop. ‘I went to the last beam. As I walked towards it, it promised that my choice would mean killing all synthetic life. I asked if the Reapers would be gone. I didn’t even stop to think about the geth, about EDI, that I was half-cybernetic at that point. It didn’t matter. I had a chance to end them once and for all, and if that came at the cost of my life, then so be it.’ Ian’s face had paled as he watched her response, growing more upset as she continued. ‘I was ready for it, Ian. I made my peace. I was told to get it done, end the war, and that was what I was going to do. I’d been told before that I was born to do it, and I guessed it was true.’

“I’m going to punch whoever told you that,” he said immediately, voice tight with anger.

‘Good luck punching a turian, Ian. He’s taller than you.’

“Vakarian?” Carrine nodded. “I’m going to punch him. But…Carr, you said you’d given up,” he choked a little as the words left him. “But you were buried under there for seventeen days. Seventeen days. Someone who’s given up doesn’t do that.”

‘I made a promise.’

Ian’s face softened, clearly still upset as he reached out to scratch at her head. His nails felt pleasant against the fuzz that had barely grown back. “Kid, you’ve got more stubbornness than sense in you, but I’ve never been more grateful for it. Remind me to shake Alenko’s hand when he gets here for installing himself in your stubborn streak.”

‘I don’t know how to deal with this, Ian,” she admitted. She was still shaking, the image of the Catalyst staring at her as she fired into the cylinder seared into her mind, feeling its judgement like a stone. ‘I don’t feel like I’m alone in my head.’

“You think the AI from the Citadel is, what, in your head or something?” he asked, confused. “Carrine, that doesn’t make sense. An AI can’t do that.”

‘This AI controlled Reapers for millions of years. It was made of technology we can’t even fathom. What if I’m just a puppet? What if I failed and it’s in here –’ she paused to tap at her head insistently ‘- and I can’t get it out? What if I’m as indoctrinated as the Illusive Man was? What if I’m not Shepard?’

Ian reached out, grabbing her hands before she could hurt herself. “You're not just Shepard. You're Carrine, too. What do you need me to do, Carr?”

“Help me,” she whispered, grasping his forearm as tightly as she could manage. He moved closer to her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to hug her.

“I don’t know how,” he replied, resting his head against hers. “But I will. I swear it, Carrine.”

+ Day 170

“So,” Dr. Amal began, datapad neatly propped against her knee in the chair across from Carrine and Ian. “You want your brother involved in your therapy, at least for a little while.” Both of them nodded. “I have to hear it from you, Commander, or I can’t allow it due to privacy laws.”

‘Yes,’ she signed.

Dr. Amal nodded. “Very well. Ian, has Commander Shepard briefed you on what we have covered so far?”

“Knowing my sister, she hasn’t told you the half of it,” he replied, shifting uncomfortably. She agreed; hospital chairs suck. “But I think I can guess.”

“Then you are aware that I do not believe our current course of treatment is beneficial.”

“Yes, ma’am. Carrine and I both agree on that.”

Dr. Amal’s eyes slid over to Carrine. “What would you rate the past week, Commander? Remember, the higher the number, the more intensely the problems have interfered with day-to-day life.”

‘Seven.’ The Catalyst had only shown up a few times, or the number would have been higher.

The psychologist hummed, tapping her fingers along her datapad. “Is it due to physical pain or is there something you would like to talk about, Commander?”

Carrine hesitated, and Ian patted her left arm in sympathy. No matter what she said, it wasn’t going to sound rational. She swallowed her pride and began. ‘In the war…I felt like a puppet. Everyone needed something from me, wanted me to save them, blamed me when things went wrong. It was always ‘Shepard, we need you to do this.’ ‘Get it done, Commander.’ ‘You were born to do this.’ Now it’s over. No one knows where my ship is. I’m trapped in this room, in my body.’ Talking about this objectively felt incredibly awkward.

Dr. Amal’s surprise showed only in a lightly raised eyebrow; it was the most Carrine had spoken since she’d been assigned to the Commander. “I’m glad you told me, Commander. It’s not easy when people place the fate of the galaxy on your shoulders.”

‘You have no idea.’

“I don’t, and I wouldn’t pretend to. What duties did you perform on the ship, if you don’t mind me asking?”

They’d talked about this before. ‘Duty roster, armory maintenance, field reports, Spectre reports, monitoring morale, keeping my crew from any in-fighting. All but piloting fell to me.’

“And there was no one you could delegate any of this responsibility to?”

Carrine shook her head. ‘They had their own duties. I wasn’t about to dump mine onto them.’

“And what about your duties as Commander, on the field?”

‘They’re my crew. I’d die for any of them.’

Ian flinched beside her. “She has a reckless streak,” he explained. “She always has.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” Dr. Amal chuckled. “But that wasn’t what I asked you, Commander. How did you fight with your ground teams?”

She paused to think. There were always variables, different terrains and enemies they went up against, different missions requiring different sets of skills. There wasn't a singular answer to that. ‘I did my best to keep an eye on them. I’m a vanguard. I can take a lot of the heavy hits that my crew can’t, and I can give it right back.’

“What she’s saying is she drew all the attention to herself,” Ian explained. Carrine resisted the urge to punch his shoulder, settling for glaring at him.

“You’d rather protect your crew than yourself. That’s admirable, Commander.”

Carrine shifted, uncomfortable with the praise. ‘I was just doing my job.’

Dr. Amal looked at her critically. “Why do you say it was just ‘your job?’”

‘It’s just…how everything happened. The mission on Eden Prime, fighting Saren and Sovereign, taking down the Collectors, being the only one willing to take the fight to them.’

Her eyes hadn’t moved from Carrine’s face. “I think this is part of what’s holding you back, Commander.” Carrine blinked in response, confused. “You feel as if you shouldered these burdens alone, correct?” She nodded. “You believed you were the only one capable of finishing the war.”

Carrine was becoming uncomfortable. She didn’t like where this conversation was going. ‘No one else had been through what I had. No one else had the information I had, no one else has Prothean tech burned into their brain.’

“That’s true. You had a very unique skill set that set you apart from any other soldier in the Alliance. But do you truly believe you were the only one who could have seen this through?”

‘I don’t know what you’re asking me,’ she signed, irritated now.

“What about Admiral Anderson? Would he have been unable to deal with what you’d gone through? Or Admiral Hackett? Or Major Alenko? They are not the ones who isolated you, Commander. You did.”

Carrine grabbed for the tablet, too angry to focus on properly signing. ‘What the fuck do you know?’ she started, knowing the words would show up instantly on Dr. Amal’s datapad. ‘Do you know what it feels like when the leaders of the galaxy come to you because their worlds are burning? When they ask you to do the impossible because they’re too fucking cowardly to do it themselves? Because they didn't want blood on their hands? Do you know what it feels like to have failed entire worlds because you weren’t quick enough to save them?’

“I don’t, because I’m not a soldier, Commander.” Dr. Amal kept her voice even and calm; it was infuriating. Ian watched them silently. “But I do understand that you kept yourself at a distance from your crew. You never gave them the opportunity to see that this war was more than you could handle alone, and so they kept throwing more and more responsibility at you. Please, correct me if I’m wrong.”

Carrine stewed. She hated that the psychologist was right, but she wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of admitting it.

“You said you felt like a puppet. You presented yourself as something inhuman, as someone who could take on an impossible weight. But you are only human, Commander. It was impossible to save every life we lost in the war.”

Impossible to save me too, I guess. Now was not the time for the fucking Catalyst to show up, not the time for it to take Ashley’s fucking form and her fucking voice and Carrine felt herself fraying at the edges, desperately clinging to the fringes of her control.

“And it’s true,” Dr. Amal continued, “they did treat you as a puppet. They used you in their politics because they knew you would feel obligated to pick up the mantle and get it done. They knew sacrifices were unacceptable to you, and they took advantage of that.”

Too bad we got turned into the sacrifices, the Catalyst sighed.

Carrine snapped, throwing the tablet at the direction she’d seen the hallucination.

“Commander!” “Carrine!” Dr. Amal and Ian both cried out, alarmed. Carrine was breathing hard, staring intensely at the spot where it had been standing. Words had been hard to come by and her voice was barely starting to recover, but she’d be damned if she didn’t use it today. She needed to hear herself say it, she needed it to be real almost as much as she wants her hand on the Normandy's hull, Kaidan at her side, or her pistol in her hand.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Head.”

+ Day 172

Carrine woke up, feeling like she’d been wrapped in fog. She remembered seeing the Catalyst, yelling at it, and…

Oh.

Dr. Amal and Ian had both seen her lose control at its presence. But why couldn’t she remember anything after that? Her head throbbed when she tried to recall anything.

Ian was on the cot to her left, worry lines evident on his face even in his sleep. She felt guilty that she was making him worry again; he had enough to deal with in his life, he didn’t need to have to take care of his broken sister, too.

A polite cough caught her attention, and she shifted to see Miranda in a chair in between her cot and Ian’s. Her glare could probably get an admiral to quiver.

Carrine cordially waved at her.

“Shepard,” she said tersely. “Why haven’t you told me you’ve been hallucinating?”

‘Sorry?’ she replied. She was exhausted, and she really didn’t want to have this conversation.

Miranda’s glare intensified. “We had to sedate you, Shepard. You lost control of your biotics and nearly hurt Dr. Amal and Ian.” Well, shit. “What happened?”

Carrine pushed herself to sit up. It wasn’t as painful as it had been, she’d been keeping up with her physical therapy, but it was still more difficult than she wanted it to be. ‘The Catalyst.’

“I thought the Citadel was the Catalyst.”

Carrine shook her head, explaining everything she’d told Ian. Miranda schooled her expression into neutrality, and Carrine was grateful. She couldn’t handle Miranda judging her right now, not when it was still hard to think clearly. The session the other day had drained her, and she didn’t have the energy to keep up any false pretenses with a sedative leaving her system.

“Shepard,” Miranda finally said, minutes having passed since Carrine finished explaining, the silence having sat almost mournfully. “Let me get this right. You think you might be indoctrinated?” She nodded. Miranda pursed her lip, staring at Carrine as she thought. “I honestly don’t think it’s possible, but I’m not going to brush you off. I’m more worried that you’re hallucinating the same thing so frequently. I want to talk to Dr. Amal, and then we’re going to come in and talk to you, alright? I have some ideas, but I need to run them by her first.” Carrine nodded again, and Miranda quietly stood, pausing to check on Ian before leaving the room.

She sighed, slowly easing herself back down onto the cot. Why couldn’t people just accept that her job was done? Sure, a lot of people still needed help, but Dr. Amal was right. Other people could do that. The only reason she was holding on was to see Kaidan, and it had been six months since she was found with no sign of the Normandy anywhere in the Sol system. She’d gone longer without him before, back when she was trapped under Cerberus red tape and threats, but this was different.

Her world had been grey and routine and as stable as a military life could be before she was brought onto the Normandy. Mindoir was a tragedy, but colonies were raided all the time. Akuze was a trap, a twisted science experiment, and the people that created it were all dead now. Everything that happened was pure chance, but meeting him made her believe there was a reason for it. His patience, his kindness, the way he always checked on everyone else before ever taking something for himself – unless it was the first cup of coffee brewed on his shift, that was his and his alone. The way he always managed to leave a way out, safeguards everywhere and always thinking ahead for a solution to a problem that didn’t even exist yet. The way he’d catch her, sometimes, just a hand on her shoulder or her waist, a silent way of telling her she had unconditional support with him.

He'd been the only one who never demanded anything of her, never took from her, only asked for her to accept him and his flaws. His stubbornness, his idealistic nature, his morning crankiness, the fact that he couldn’t sleep with a single blanket on unless he had a migraine. Kaidan had accepted her unconditionally, and even when they’d fought it hadn’t been borne of anger, but of fear, of worry, of a paranoia that either of them could be gone forever in the next fight.

She’d have dug herself into his bones to keep him safe, and she's certain he would have let her and done the same.

Recognizing she was experiencing emotions was confusion; identifying them was almost impossible. She’d been so numb for the last few months of the war, that she couldn’t recognize that she was even grieving. When Lana had come by the first time, she thought she had, but now she realized that it had been guilt. There was no magic button she could press to bring Kaidan home, no way for her to steal a ship and search the galaxy for her crew. She forced Kaidan to leave, to guide her ship to safety where she could not, because she had a job to do and he had to live. She didn’t let him make that decision, one of the few times she’d ever pulled rank on him, and hoped to whatever higher power was listening that her decision saved him and her crew from certain death.

But with the Normandy unaccounted for, she didn’t have any answers, and that was its own kind of torture.

Miranda’s knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and she hastily wiped at her face to clear away any tears. She didn't think she'd cried, but she didn't want them seen regardless. She entered with Dr. Amal on her heels, the woman looking far more concerned than she had the last time Carrine had seen her.

“Commander,” she said cautiously. “How are you?”

‘Feeling,’ she replied. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, and she didn’t know where to start.

Dr. Amal glanced at Miranda. “Feeling what, Shepard?”

‘Everything.’

Chapter Text

+ Day 186

Carrine’s sessions with Dr. Amal had become daily. She felt juvenile, working through  worksheets about her emotions, but she found herself struggling with them. Dr. Amal never pushed her, just asked her to write down a memory, an event, a person associated with each one. The harsh ones came to her far more easily: disappointment, anger, frustration, hate.

The happier ones? Those were much harder. Many of her happier memories were tainted with the knowledge of what came after them, like the summer barbecues on Mindoir, teaching Tali to play poker on the SR1, sparring with Wrex in the cargo hold, Kaidan…

She found herself writing his name next to many of them.

Dr. Amal looked over the first sheet Carrine had handed to her, and she didn’t miss it. “You and Major Alenko were close?”

Carrine nodded. She wasn’t on active duty, and her Spectre status protected her for now. ‘More than close.’

The other woman smiled. “Sometimes regs just don’t seem to matter, hm?”

‘It wasn’t really that,’ Carrine said. ‘Tablet?’ She didn’t know how to sign all that she wanted to say, and she didn’t know how much she wanted to give away. ‘He’s. Different.’

“Different." If the doctor noticed she hesitated before choosing that word, she didn't let on. "How so?”

‘He was the only one who never demanded anything from me. He’d always ask, and it was always my choice. At the end of it all, I think we were the only choice I actually got to make.’

“He sounds like a good man.”

‘I don’t think there’s a better person in the galaxy.’

Dr. Amal smiled at her. “Tell me about him.”

What could she even say? God, she felt like a gossiping high school student, and itched at her knee before she continued. ‘He likes his coffee to be more sugar than espresso, he likes steak more than any other food, he’s got a smile that can make anyone’s day better, and he’s the only person who’s never followed my commands without question.’

She raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t that be grounds for insubordination?”

Carrine shook her head. ‘He challenged me, kept me on my toes, kept me from crossing a line into the point of no return more than a few times.’ Toombs and that fucking Cerberus scientist flashed through her mind, a sharp Commander from Kaidan being all it took for her to give him the order to arrest the bastard on the spot. Kept her from destroying political bridges because she wasn’t able to finish thinking before she was speaking most of the time. Countless times covering her in the line of fire, some of the moves they pulled off as a team on the battlefield textbook reckless and insane. ‘It’s cheesy, but he’s my better half.’

“And how do you feel?”

She thinks over what she wants to say, and finds out the words won’t leave her. ‘I don’t think I can explain it. We’ve always had a way of communicating and I just…I can’t.’

“It’s alright, Commander, I’m not going to force you. You’re making very good progress.”

‘Why are we focusing on this? It’s not what you usually try to get me to talk about.’ She’d figured Dr. Amal would want to focus more on when she’d seen the Catalyst than her feelings towards Kaidan.

“Here’s the thing about emotions, Commander. They’re not rational, they can’t always be explained, they’re just something that exists. We aren’t meant to control them in the way you have. Humans aren’t meant to ignore what their bodies and minds are telling them, and you’ve pushed them down for so long you hit a breaking point.”

She almost laughed. ‘So I’m a pot that boiled over? Glad to see my inability to cook followed over.’

“It’s similar, yes,” Dr. Amal agreed. “But I think one of the roots here is you got lost under the pressure along the way. Most of it is classified, but I am aware you were forced to work with an agency against your will for nearly an entire year?” Carrine bristled, and she took that as an answer. “That’s enough to damage anyone’s psyche, Commander, even one as hardened as yours. There’s no shame in letting yourself feel upset at what people have done to you.”

Carrine shifted awkwardly. Both Ian and Miranda had stressed to her how important it was to deal with her refusal to deal with her emotions, but it didn’t mean she had to enjoy it. ‘It was necessary.’

“Just because it was necessary doesn’t make it fair, Commander.” Dr. Amal tapped her fingers against the arm of the chair as she thought, looking over what Carrine had written on. They’d decided to use old-fashioned pens and paper in order to build up the muscles in Carrine’s wrist again, and she was amused at how horrible her handwriting had become. “You’ve spent so much time forced into the role the galaxy put you in, you couldn’t ever deal with the consequences of it.”

She was right, but Carrine was too stubborn to admit it. Thankfully, Dr. Amal had taken this particular kind of silence as the agreement that it was. “I have a question for you, Commander.” Carrine looked up at her as a cue to continue. “How many times in your life have you been honest with yourself?”

Carrine blinked. ‘What?’

“You have trouble confronting negative emotions and why they exist, even if you accept them – to a dangerous degree, sometimes. But when you block out the bad, you also block out the good. How many times have you denied yourself something because you felt like you didn’t deserve it?”

She suddenly remembered a conversation with Ashley on the SR1. They’d just come off a routine mission to check out a distress signal and Kaidan had given her a grateful smile for covering him as he’d disabled it, gunfire from mercs coming from every direction but never touching him. It was a little off with the scar on his lip, but that made it all the more endearing to her and she had no idea how to handle the butterflies it had given her. She’d cornered Ashley when they were the only two left on shift, leading to a very embarrassing conversation for her and a lifetime of blackmail material on a superior officer for Ash. But the chief had experience with younger sisters and lectures on first crushes and what Actual Feelings were – and whiskey made for good hush money. She’d been in denial for so long, and then Virmire happened, and Ashley wasn’t there to coach her anymore.

God, did Carrine miss her. The Catalyst’s choice of shape stung worse than before.

‘Yes,’ she admitted after a long pause. ‘Aside from breaking regs, Kaidan could do better than some bitter soldier with a chip on her shoulder and something to prove. Someone who could give him the better things in life that he deserves.’

Dr. Amal hummed. “And has he ever said anything of the sort to you?”

Carrine paused. She felt that way, but…once he was back on the ship, once he’d coaxed her out of not admitting things, she felt freer. She still wasn’t sure she deserved Kaidan, but he was the one who kept her steady when everything was falling apart, who sat with her when nightmares where she couldn’t breathe woke her, who knew better than to ask her to let someone else take control over problems and simply took care of them before she knew they existed. He was patient in the face of her temper, not that he couldn’t give an argument as well as she could,but because he knew she wasn't angry at him but at everything else. He knew the only way to get her to slow down was to put himself in front of her hurricane because he had faith she’d never hurt him.

She swallowed hard and shook her head. She desperately wished he was here with her.

‘No,’ she finally said. ‘The opposite. One time we were coming back from an undercover mission and it had gone well, the team was in a good mood, and I’d jokingly asked him what I’d ever do without him. He said I’d never find out.’ Carrine stared at the tablet, debating whether she actually wanted to tell this to Dr. Amal. Fuck it. ‘That promise is the only thing that has kept me from losing the will to live. He’s stubborn. He’ll keep it. I just have to keep up my end of the deal and be here when he comes back to me.’

Dr. Amal smiled, warmth showing openly this time. “I’m very glad to hear that, Commander. Now, the other thing I’d like to talk to you about is this figure you’ve been hallucinating.”

+ Day 200

Carrine had refused every kind of medication that Dr. Amal had suggested to her in order to try and block the hallucinations. She was improving, albeit slowly, and she was better at ignoring it when it did show up. She still hated Dr. Amal’s exercises, and she felt deeply uncomfortable with the idea that it was okay to feel angry over the responsibility she’d been given, but it was getting easier to swallow.

Yelling down the hall from her room broke her from her thoughts, and she recognized the voice almost instantly, hobbling over on her crutches to throw the door open. She couldn’t walk for long, but her therapist encouraged her to use them when she was able, and she hated being stuck in a bed.

Carrine banged one of them on the wall to get the attention of the woman who was yelling, grin on each of their faces.

“Shepard!” Jack hollered. She ducked under the resigned guard’s arm and jogged to Carrine’s side, stopping just short of smacking her on the shoulder. “Damn, the Reapers really did a number on you, huh?”

Carrine motioned for her to follow into the room, settling down to grab her tablet. She synced it to Jack’s omnitool before typing. ‘You have no idea.’

“You look like shit,” she said cheerily, “but it’s good to see you alive. I’ve been trying to get here since the Alliance announced it.”

‘Red tape in the way?’

Jack snorted, flopping down sideways onto the cot Ian usually occupied. “Nah, got held up with the kids. I didn’t want to leave them until I knew they were all somewhere safe.”

‘You’ve gone soft on me, Jack.’

“Bite me, Shepard.”

Carrine barked out a laugh. Her voice was healing, and she’d only started speech therapy a week prior. She had a long way to go yet, and her doctor had already warned her she would probably never sound exactly the same as she used to. ‘What do they have you doing?’

“I’m helping with some of the heavy lifting. You marines can’t do anything without us biotics. Wimps.”

The easy bickering was comfortable, and Carrine was grateful Jack didn’t walk on eggshells around anybody. She was tired of being treated like one wrong move would break her.

“Hey,” Jack started, catching Carrine’s attention again. “Do you want me to break you out of here for a bit?”

Carrine’s eyes lit up, nodding eagerly. She’d yet to be outside of the hospital in the seven months of her stay for a multitude of reasons, and she was getting stir crazy. Trips between physical therapy rooms and her own in ICU didn’t count as getting outside.

They were careful, with Carrine’s leg strapped in on the hospital wheelchair. Timing had to be perfect to get around the guards; Miranda was very serious about security. Jack had piled blankets on top of her to combat the cold winter air of Vancouver, and they darted out as quietly as Jack could manage. Even if the guards noticed them, she doubted they would begrudge her this.

It was colder than she’d expected as a balcony door slid open in front of them. They weren’t far, just to the other end of the floor, but it was enough. Snow was still falling, a layer building up on the railing that just begged to be disturbed. Carrine dug her right hand out of the blanket pile, hoping the shock of cold would be something she could still feel.

It was there, barely, but it felt like nothing to the wind that bit at her face, even in the sheltered cove of the balcony. For the first time, she missed feeling the cold and welcomed the bite of the wind.

A pop from Jack’s shoulder caught Carrine’s attention as the biotic stretched. “Man, I wish I could challenge you to a snowball fight. I might actually beat you like this.”

Carrine smiled wryly and shook her head. They hadn’t brought the tablet, and Carrine didn’t feel like pulling her hands out to sign. But Jack had never needed her to respond with words.

“What, you don’t think I could? I bet you I could take on my whole squad right now and win.”

She rolled her eyes as Jack described the faux-battle. It was nice to hear about something other than the tired statistics of recovery, of the bodies still being found months later, of the numbers still unaccounted for. The youngest of Jack’s students had been put into foster families or the academy with the others helping restore contacts across the planet with Hackett’s units. Jack’s pride in them could be felt from miles away.

The Catalyst flickered on the edge of her vision, almost shining because of the snow. She turned away from it, refused to hear it and instead focused on Jack’s rambling.

It was the first time she’d successfully ignored the whispering.

+ Day 220

“Really, Shepard, this is a terrible idea.”

“Oh c’mon, cheerleader, when has telling Shepard something’s dumb ever stopped her?”

Miranda glared at Jack, the latter leaning against the doorframe of Carrine’s room as they met with one of the few biotics specialists on Earth. The asari had agreed to check Carrine’s port to be outfitted with a new implant due to the damage hers had sustained, but she was reluctant to give her access to an amp yet. A decision Miranda had a hand in, Carrine was sure. Jack was on board with outfitting a new amp; it could be removed if it needed to be, after all.

Carrine had been working on her patience. She ignored them, waiting for the doctor to finish reading over the documentation. She’d presented her case, and all she could do was wait for a verdict. It reminded her too much of her trial a year ago to be entirely comfortable if she was being honest.

“Well,” the doctor began, “I don’t have a problem with putting a new implant in. I’m going to put you down for exercise therapy using it first before I’ll fit you with an amp, however. How did your biotics first manifest? Mimicking that should be beneficial to getting control of them again.”

Carrine hesitated, and Jack talked for her. “We were on a mission and she just opened up a biotic charge at full strength. She wasn’t born a biotic.”

The doctor frowned. “Well, that we’re certainly not going to recreate. Have you ever done lifting exercises, Commander?” Carrine nodded. “We’ll begin with those, then. I’ll put the implant in tomorrow morning.”

She shifted to talk model options with Miranda, and Carrine studiously ignored the shimmering figure of the Catalyst in the corner of the room. It hadn’t spoken to her in days, just hovered on the edge of her vision from time to time.

She hoped that meant she was winning whatever the fight against it was.

+ Day 240

Carrine finally got clearance from Hackett to begin monitoring some of the short-range calls, although she had to do so with the assistance of a VI to compensate for her voice. The program was simple, at least, and only spoke what she typed in as a response to a ship. Her section was quartered off from the main cubicles so the program wouldn’t be overwhelmed with the background noise that came with any military operation.

She was supposed to monitor for hails and pass them on, but if the general staff was overwhelmed, the response fell to her. She knew Hackett was putting her stubborn streak to work, knowing she’d never back down from a challenge.

He was right.

The first hail she caught was on her third rotation; a quarian vessel named the Honorata, second of its name. She directs them to join the ships near Mars, as the dextro supply ships are anchored there. They do not ask for her name. She does not tell them. It feels freeing.

Earth’s docking bays were mostly destroyed in the invasion, as were most of the major cities they belonged to. Smaller ships and shuttles could usually find a plot of flattened land, but anything needing specialized repair or rations would have to find help at one of the other Alliance ports in the Sol system. It wasn’t a fantastic way of running things, as the requisition reports always took days to process, but they didn’t have the capacity to offer more.

Carrine stretched her shoulders out, rotating her neck the way the physical therapist wants her to. Something about reacclimating her body to having an implant installed again, something about stretching stiff muscles. She missed some of it with her biotics humming to life under her skin again.

The noise outside was comforting, just enough to help her feel like she was back around crew instead of the stifling solitude of the ICU room. The Catalyst didn’t show up as frequently when she was busy, and Dr. Amal had said that was a very promising sign that she was not, in fact, indoctrinated. She was more concerned that Carrine had said it sometimes took on Ashley’s face and voice, but had confidence in Shepard’s improvements so far.

She wasn’t entirely convinced herself, but she’s trying to let herself trust other people outside of a firefight now.

It hadn’t taken much more for Dr. Amal to break things out once Carrine couldn’t hide the hallucinations anymore, and if she was honest, it was a relief. Hiding it was taking more energy than she thought it had, and the stress of keeping it quiet hadn’t been helping her recovery. With Ian assuring her he would stand by her no matter what, things became a little easier.

But she couldn’t stop until the Normandy was back in sight.

+ Day 260

The standard QEC operators were good; Shepard didn’t catch much outflow from them, leaving her the shorter shifts that covered breaks while she attended more therapy sessions. Dr. Amal still had her doing those infuriating worksheets, but they were getting easier to fill out, and she found herself completing them faster each time she was given one. She could walk short distances now, almost at an average pace, though she had to use crutches for anything longer than a few dozen feet.

The therapy for recovering her speech was almost as frustrating as her early sessions with Dr. Amal. Dr. T’Yero was patient, but the sheer fact that Shepard’s own voice sounded nothing like what she’d heard from herself for decades kept holding her back, bringing her temper to the point where Dr. T’Yero had to ban use of the tablet while they were in session.

Carrine glared; the doctor simply gave her a calm look in return. Why were asari always so calm? It was another thing to be annoyed about.

Better watch your temper. Carrine closed her eyes and worked on what Dr. Amal had told her to do: deep breaths, focus only on what the task at hand is, and don’t pay attention to it. Are you going to hurt her, too?

“Commander?” Dr. T’Yero asked. “Is everything alright?”

Shepard nodded tightly. “In a minute.”

Her voice sounded like glass over gravel over rubble, and she wasn’t used to being unable to fully control how scratchy it came out. It felt like her throat was always dry, that any amount of use took up whatever was there and left the rest of her wanting.

In short, it was incredibly annoying.

The Catalyst’s voice faded from her mind, mouthing the words she’d been practicing before as she slowly unclenched her hands and lowered her shoulders.

“Better?” Carrine nodded. “Good. Let’s try from the start of that paragraph once more.”

+ Day 274

There was a reason to celebrate today for once that didn’t involve resolving a missing ship: one of the Alliance officers stationed in Vancouver just delivered the first post-war child, and more people than she would’ve thought were rotating out to congratulate the new mother and her partner. Shepard elected to stay with the QEC, not willing to risk missing a hail and unwilling to abandon any kind of job she’d started.

It had been a skeleton crew for a few hours, and only one hail had come through from the Fusion, one of the flaghips from Aria’s raiding fleet. Of all of her ships, Carrine was least surprised to see that one proudly limp into a port. She almost wished she could see the party they’d be having, especially if Aria got wind they had survived.

Shepard tries not to think about the people she hadn’t yet heard from, Aria among them.

Static broke on her line, the radio automatically compensating for the strain to pick up on poor signal strength. “This is Alliance QEC, what is the name of this ship?”

“-dy, I hope – hear me?”

Shepard swore under her breath, fiddling with the tuner in the hopes it would clear the signal up even just a little bit more. This ship must be in bad shape or at the very edge of the range. She hoped it wasn’t both.

“This is Alliance QEC, can you repeat that?”

“This is the SSV Normandy, can you hear me?”

The world stopped spinning. It tilted to its side. Everything felt upside down as her heart jumped into her throat and every other sound turned to white noise around her.

“Is this Flight Lieutenant Moreau?” she asked, unable to keep the waver out of her voice. Her hand hoovered over the VI boosting her voice; if this was Joker, she wanted him to hear her as she was. She hoped he recognized her.

“Yes, this is, flying under the command of Major Alenko. All organic crew accounted for.”

She slammed her hand on the VI’s off switch. “Joker?”

Silence followed, then complete disbelief: “Shepard?” Then, a very loud call for someone to get their ass to the cockpit.

“What is it, Joker?”

She’d know that voice anywhere. She knew it on the verge of death, when the memory of it was the only thing keeping her focused on surviving, she heard it in her sleep and did her best to remember it in every way she ever had imagined it.

“Welcome home, Normandy. Your captain is waiting for you.”

Chapter Text

+ Day 274

The Normandy was badly damaged. She didn’t understand half of the reports she was getting from the readouts, but every time a new line of the damage report appeared, the team of Alliance engineers that would be greeting her ship looked more dismayed. They barely made it to the relay before the Crucible, and the damage sustained from jumping the same time as the beam took everything offline for months. When they hit the Charon relay, they hadn’t known the one to the Serpent Nebula had been destroyed by the Reapers, throwing them into the Ismar Frontier and crash landing on Zorya.

It had taken almost three months of around the clock repairs to get the Normandy flight worthy again, and another six to get in range of a QEC signal. They were approaching the Sol system, but they had a ways to go yet. Joker estimated another month at best, but he expected them to be closer to two.

But Carrine knew they were alive. Joker was alive, nearly all of her crew had survived the end of the world.

Kaidan was alive, and coming home to her.

There was no privacy on a QEC line, especially not one with a rotating mic between several repair teams on Earth who were preparing to receive the Normandy. Hackett authorized a bay in Vancouver to be cleared out; she was a ship of honor, after all, flew straight into hell with the Fifth Fleet at her side, and Vancouver was one of the last cities with a functioning spaceport intact.

Shepard was granted permission to handle anything related to the Normandy, and took a break on standard QEC radio, focusing on contact with her frigate and her therapy sessions. She was exhausted more often than not, but even though she had to share the connection with dozens of other people, she'd take any chance she had to hear them.

The times she got to talk to them alone were few and far between, as the only line was in the cockpit and Joker is an unrepentant eavesdropper.

“God, I still can’t believe you’re alive,” he said. She had downtime between sessions and had the connection to herself as two of the electrical engineering teams were working themselves into a frenzy trying to duplicate how Tali had rigged some of the systems to operate, knowledge she very smugly credited to growing up on the Flotilla repairing failing ships while they were in flight.

(They asked her, once. They stared at the line when she gave them an answer that flew straight over Carrine’s head. They asked her how she figured that out, to which she simply replied, “What, like it’s hard?”)

“I can’t believe any of you are alive,” she laughed, the sound coming up her throat like nails. She refused to use the VI assist when talking to them. She promised herself she’d be honest, and that means not lying about how bad her injuries were. “I thought. I didn’t know if any of you were coming home.”

“Are you kidding me? Mr. Determined here would take the shuttle back to Earth right now if Cortez would let him near it.”

“Oh, can it, Joker, you’re not any better,” Kaidan added.

She couldn’t stop the smile, the healing skin on the right side of her jaw still taut from disuse. “If I could pilot one, so would I.”

Joker snorted. “What, they grounded you again? Lame. Break out. Steal a ship and meet us by Jupiter.”

She was quiet long enough for them to realize something was wrong. “Carrine?” Kaidan spoke first. “What happened, are you actually grounded?”

“No, it’s.” Does she really want to tell them this right now? She doubts they’ll forget. “I got hurt, uh. Really badly. Miranda wasn’t sure if I was going to make it for a while.”

“What happened?”

There was no fucking privacy on a QEC line and she hated it. She knew that tone of Kaidan’s and it worked every time. After Toombs, after Udina, after Thessia. It got her to fess up simply because he was unafraid to show he cared and it formed every word he said. She didn’t want to share that tone with anyone.

Joker, thankfully, stayed quiet.

“I, uh. Grunt found me. I’d been under rubble for about seventeen days after the Citadel exploded, everyone was surprised I was alive at all. Wrex told me Grunt fought someone who wanted to call it on site. A lot of internal injuries, most of my right side is burned, all my implants burned out. Burns on my throat did a lot of damage, I’ve only been able to talk recently, and as you can tell, my voice is different. Walking sucks, but I have a metal femur and a new knee now so I’m better off than Joker.” She got an indignant squawk for that comment, but it broke some of the building tension. “Burns took some of my tattoos, that sucks.” She doesn’t bring up the Catalyst, or how fragile her mental health has been. It’s too much, too personal not to tell him to his face.

“We can always get them redone, Shepard. The important thing is that you’re alive.”

“But seventeen days?” Joker said. “Shepard, what record did you break for that one?”

She was quiet for a moment. “I made a promise.”

She could hear Kaidan inhale from the other side of the line. “I’ll be there.”

+ Day 281

Lana Alenko made it to the QEC setup near the hospital as soon as Carrine was able to notify her the Normandy had made contact. Her isolated section of the unit afforded them a little privacy, and the other staff were polite enough to give them as much space as they could. Which, honestly, wasn't much in a small quartered off wing of a hospital, but it was the thought that counted.

She hadn’t told Kaidan she’d been in contact with his mother, wanting to surprise him. She couldn’t come by often, with the economy in shambles and flights anywhere still difficult to catch, but they’d exchanged messages constantly since the first time she came by. Lana had been right; Carrine was in need of a friend, and they shared a burden of worry. It made things a little easier.

Secondary headset attached carefully, Carrine quietly tuned it to the right frequencies, ignoring Joker’s background chatter and resting her own voice for once. Her therapist warned her using it this frequently this quickly could cause greater long-term damage, but she honestly didn’t care. They needed to hear her as much as she needed to hear them.

“Joker?” she asked, and got a grunt in response. “Is Kaidan on the bridge?”

Joker snorted very loudly at the same time someone cleared their throat. “Carr, he hasn’t left. He brought a blanket up here.”

“Joker, hey!” Kaidan protested.

“Oh, excuse me, he brought the blanket from your cabin up here.” A thud was heard, followed by Joker cursing at him. “Uncalled for behavior. What have I ever done to you? You could’ve broken my arm.”

“I barely tapped you. Shut up.”

Lana’s grin was almost enough to split her face, silent tears beginning to track down her cheeks. She knew the feeling. Carrine motioned for her to go ahead. “Now Kaidan, I thought I raised you better than that.”

The line was dead silent for all of five seconds. “…Mom?” Kaidan’s voice was incredulous. She could picture the disbelief on his face, imagining him leaning forward on the chair as if he could see them if he could just look through the line, just like he did when the ground teams were on comms with each other.

“The one and only, honey. It’s so good to hear you.”

“I – you’re alive? You’re alright, you’re with Carrine?” he choked out, emotion shining through even on the awful QEC line. “You didn’t get hurt too, did you?”

“I’m fine, Kaidan,” she replied. “Part of the orchard got burned down, but the house is alright, nothing that can’t be repaired. I started moving with some Alliance soldiers that came through not long after the fire, the worst I got was some smoke inhalation. I’ll be just fine in time.”

“That’s,” he started, “I’m so glad. Mom, what about – is Dad?”

Lana pressed a hand to her mouth, and Carrine took over. “They found him a while ago, Kaidan. He and his team stood their ground long enough for a shelter to fully evacuate. I’m sorry.”

His breath shuddered a bit over the line. “I kind of – I figured, when we didn’t hear anything for so long, but. Mom –”

“Honey, it’s okay, I haven’t been alone,” she responded, pulling herself together as best she could. She didn’t like to bring up Charles. “The banks have kept me busy, and when I can be, I’ve been here.”

“I – I’m glad to hear that.”

There was an awkward pause, both of them a little overwhelmed. Joker broke the silence. "So, have you heard from Ian?"

Carrine started to answer when a coughing fit took over, a muscle in her throat spasming from the overuse. Tears sprang in her eyes against her will; she thought she had a better handle on this by now. She could hear Joker and Kaidan both expressing distress, and Lana responding as she rubbed gentle circles on Carrine’s upper back. It passed after a minute, but she was barely in shape to talk for much longer. Dammit.

“What the hell just happened?” Joker demanded. “Shepard, what’s going on?”

She glared at it, but flipped the VI on, switched modes, and began typing. “Remember I said my throat was pretty badly burned? I have burns inside and out, and it damaged my vocal chords severely. I’ve been in speech therapy for a while, but I’ve been talking consistently for a full week and my body’s decided it’s had enough, apparently.”

“You coming across with a robot voice is fucking weird,” he snapped. “I hate it.”

"Thank you."

“Joker,” Kaidan warned. “Carrine, why don’t you take a break or something? I’m sure someone else can help cover the QEC, it’s alright.”

She snarled, the noise aggravating her throat even further. “I don’t need any extra coddling, thank you.”

He was quiet, and she began to regret snapping at him. “That’s not what I’m suggesting, Carr, and you know it. It’s okay to rest is all I meant.”

Carrine resisted the urge to be petulant and moody. “I’ve rested enough. I need to do this. I have to help.”

She could feel Lana’s gaze on her, and very much felt like she was getting the same stare-down her own mother had given her as a teenager. Part of her wondered if it was the same expression Kaidan gave her when she had a particularly hare-brained idea, but she didn’t want to look.

“Wow, that’s not a lot to unpack there,” Joker said, deadpan. She had the sudden urge to throw something at him like they were seventeen and sixteen again. “You’ve totally adjusted to this well.”

“Joker, that’s enough.” Kaidan’s voice was firm. “This isn’t a conversation for an open QEC line.”

And just like that, any reason why she wanted to argue deflated. They still had so much distance to travel, and so many things could still go wrong. The unthinkable would be to have them just out of reach and lose them for good, and she knew better than to let your last words with someone be harsh. She’d regretted arguing with her mother hours before the raid, and she’d carry that with her for the rest of her life. There was no taking certain things back.

The thought hit her that she should have said something better to Anderson. She’d made a joke about having the best seats in the house, eclipsed by the final words of her last living parental figure stating that he was proud of her.

She made a joke. She could have said so much more. She should have said – what? That she was glad he was with her until the end? To hang on just a little longer? That part of her was still the terrified sixteen-year-old that survived a batarian raid, still wanted him to give her some kind of guidance through the impossible?

Nausea hit her like a brick, mind swirling.

She hadn’t gone to his funeral.

A gentle, soft hand on her wrist brought her back, causing her to jerk so badly her headset was tugged off. How long had Lana been calling her name? Were Joker and Kaidan still trying to talk to her? She didn’t know. Everything felt fuzzy, the feeling of guilt overwhelming everything else. Closing her eyes tightly, she began focusing on her breathing like her therapist instructed her to do. The bright orange flash of her new omnitool got through the darkness she wanted, but she couldn’t focus on it.

At some point rougher hands gently took her shoulders and brought her forehead forward to rest on someone else’s. She heard Lana speaking to whoever it was, or maybe to the Normandy. She couldn’t listen anymore, couldn’t hear over the rapid heartbeat in her ears, over the whisper of the Catalyst threatening to return.

She was shifted, suddenly, off of the chair and into someone’s arms. She finally registered the aftershave Ian always wore and closed her eyes tighter, trying to get any hold over her breathing. He was steady, and she was barely jostled until he quietly announced they were back in her hospital room. She clung to his arm after he got her back on the bed, breathing still ragged and chest heaving.

The Catalyst was staring her down from the foot of the bed, a horrible grin spreading across its face. She wanted to be sick.

Ian joined her on the bed, sitting so that he blocked the Catalyst from view. Had she said it was there? Could he see it?

“-rrine, Carrine, hey, kiddo, can you hear me?” She had no idea how long he’d been calling her name. Time meant nothing. She shuddered, nodding as best as she could manage. “Okay, you’re alright, it’s just us here right now.”

He put her hand on his chest, breathing slowly and encouraging her to match it. She closed her eyes again, not wanting to see that damned smug hallucination anymore, wanting to be able to breathe with some kind of normalcy. She heard the door to her room open and close one more time before the lock engaged.

“Ian,” Miranda asked, “what happened? I got the alert something was wrong.”

Ah, right. When she was given her new omnitool, it was on the condition that it monitored her oxygen levels and heart rate, and Miranda and Ian were set to get alerts if anything dropped too low or spiked too high. She’d forgotten about that, just happy to have a way of communication that wasn’t a damned tablet or datapad.

“I don’t now,” he responded. “She was on the QEC with Mrs. Alenko, and she told me that they’d been talking to Joker and Kaidan and Carrine just kind of. Lost it.”

“Shepard doesn’t just ‘lose it,’ something happened.” Her breathing had almost matched Ian’s when another hand gently touched her arm. “Shepard, are you alright?”

She couldn’t talk, and shook her head.

“Alright. Was it something specific?” Carrine nodded. “Was it related to the Normandy?” Carrine paused, then shrugged. She could hear the frown as Miranda hummed. “Was it related to the conversation?” She nodded again. Miranda’s hand left her, likely looking up the auto-logged transcript from the QEC terminal. “They’d continued talking a short while after Ian got you. Kaidan guessed you were too worried you’d regret arguing with them. He also wants to pass on that he’s worried about you and that you should rest.” Miranda paused again. “For the record, I agree with him.”

“Ah,” Ian sighed as Carrine flipped her off. “You’d regret saying something you didn’t mean again, huh?”

Carrine nodded then shook her head, breathing levelly enough to sit up properly. Ian was reluctant to let her go far, but let her hand drop. She pulled up her omnitool to type. “I argued with mom right before.” She couldn’t. It felt too raw again, thinking of Anderson and imagining losing her crew reopened that old wound. “Before. And I made some stupid fucking joke to Anderson. He was dying. It was my fault, and all I could do was say some stupid fucking joke about the view.”

“Your fault? Shepard, what on earth are you talking about?” Miranda asked.

She hadn’t told them. Fuck. She was so occupied by the Catalyst and her own problems that she never even once mentioned the altercation with the Illusive Man, fully indoctrinated and determined to stop them. She froze, staring at the screen, unable to ignore the Catalyst’s mockery of Anderson’s final words.

You sure are something for him to be proud of, it sang. Bet you wish it was him and not you sitting there right now, huh?

Carrine wheezed, wanting to curse it out but her voice continued to refuse to cooperate. “Shepard – Carrine, please don't try to talk, you’re going to make it worse,” Miranda said.

She ignored the shimmering shape, and slowly began to explain. The hall of bodies, the shifting walls, finding Anderson and the Illusive Man, the latter fully indoctrinated and hell-bent on keeping them from opening the Citadel arms. How he somehow took control of the two them, using some sort of Reaper-based biotics, and how he forced her to shoot Anderson before she wrangled control back over herself and shot him point blank. How Anderson collapsed to his knees, how they leaned back on the dias once she’d opened the arms of the Citadel for the Crucible to dock.

How he’d bled out leaning on her shoulder, quietly telling her he was proud, that he couldn’t have asked for a better child to fall into his life. That he hoped she’d keeping living for both of them, see London one last time for him.

She hadn’t realized she was crying until Ian was wiping a tissue across her face, and looked up to see him wearing a sad smile on his own. “I don’t think I’ve had to do that since you were four or five.”

She took it from him, doing her best to clean herself up, more embarrassed than she thought she'd be. They’d both seen her worse, but no one wants to see a grown adult covered in their own grossness. She felt better, getting it out, and a glance proved that the Catalyst had disappeared once more.

Miranda had been quiet while Carrine explained, and kept her voice calm and quiet when she said, “You weren’t able to go to his funeral.”

Carrine slammed her eyes shut once more. She did not want to cry again, a headache already forming from last time, and shook her head. “I don’t think I was awake yet.”

Miranda’s brow furrowed ever so slightly, clearly lining up the dates in her head. “No, you weren’t. We’d only just recovered you when he was buried.”

Something twisted in the pit of her stomach, but she felt weirdly relieved. She hadn’t been disrespectful or callous; she’d barely been alive, much less conscious.

But she also hadn’t even asked about him, save for asking Wrex once if he’d been found. She considered Anderson a second father; he’d been her guardian since he found her on Mindoir a lifetime ago. He got her through Arcturus Station, how she’d met Joker, kept her alive until she enlisted. Had she ever even thanked him for that? He barely knew her when he signed on for her, legally binding himself to a traumatized, horrifically angry teenager with nothing to lose and a temper to match. She knew he passed up assignments to stay on Arcturus with her, because she would have been sent to her remaining family on Earth otherwise. It was his insistence that got her to befriend Joker; had she never thanked him for making sure she’d found a brother in a friend?  For not leaving her to rot in a hospital just before she turned eighteen?

She couldn’t remember. That was somehow worse.

Every single parent she’d known had died trying to help her, to protect her. Ian was captured and held for years because he tried to do the same. And what did she have to show for it? A body she barely felt at home in, a mind she wasn’t sure was her own, barely able to do even a fraction of what she was once capable of.

She wondered if they thought their sacrifices were worth it.

Chapter Text

+ Day 283

She’d been taken off of QEC rotation for the foreseeable future, and she had no one to blame but herself. News of her rather public breakdown had to have spread, and she was sure it had hit the media already. There’s no way it hadn’t.

Commander Carrine Anne Shepard, survivor of Mindoir and Akuze, captain of the Normandy, First human Spectre, Hero of the Citadel, laid low by a stress-induced breakdown. More at 11.

Shame soured her tongue. She hadn’t been able to speak since she last spoke to her crew, and understanding what people said to her was difficult; she had not had problems with it like this in months.

Hackett had suspended her duties as soon as Miranda notified him. The only branch of connection she’d have with her crew for months, only if nothing else happened, ripped out of her hands.

At worst, the last they heard of her voice for a second time was her wheezing, gasping for air that wouldn’t come.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it. She couldn’t stop thinking about how she let Anderson down, how she –

Shepard closed her eyes, breathing harshly through her nose. She has to accept it to move past it. She has to. There’s no way out but through.

Quietly, in the dim artificial light the night cycle of the hospital has, she mouths the words to herself, forcing her jaw to cooperate when it does not want to. It feels like she’s grabbing it with both of her hands to force the words to form.

I shot him, she mouths, tastes the acid boiling over the words. I pulled the trigger.

It was not my fault, she mouths next, and it tastes like a lie. I was not in control of myself.

I was fighting for control, she reminds herself. I shot the Illusive Man next. Of my own free will.

She repeats the same lines to herself, not a sound coming out of her, until they start to feel real. Until they don’t feel like maybe they’re just bullshit.

She can’t change what Hackett decides. She can’t go back and fix anything with her mother or with Anderson; her mistakes and regrets will burn her from the inside out until she dies for good.

But she has reasons to keep putting one step in front of the other. She reminds herself she has a chance to have a future, even if she’s terrified of it. Kaidan and Joker are coming back to Earth, Ian is safe, and the Reapers are gone.

If the Catalyst showed itself that day, she did not notice it, her mantra drowning out any attempt it could make.

+Day 284

Ian tosses a bean bag ball back and forth between his hands, having already lobbed it at her head several times. His glare comes and goes, and she waits for him to speak. It’s almost refreshing that she’s recovered enough that he feels comfortable being angry with her.

Carrine finally slept the night before, and she feels clearer than she has in days. No one has given her any updates on the Normandy, and she’s banned from stepping near any QEC until her voice regulates again naturally. She tries not to be bitter about it.

“You’re an idiot,” he finally says. She snorts. “No, really, I mean it. An idiot. A complete and utter dumbass, if you will.” He stops tossing the ball, squeezing it in a fist as he leans forward. The glare’s back on. “Ignoring your limitations has got to stop, Carr. It’s absolutely gotten out of hand.”

She gave him a flat look. On vocal rest now, she stretches her hands before she starts to type on her omnitool, converted to a hold a full-sized haptic keyboard until her hands are further improved. ‘Shut up, it’s not like this is new.’

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she rolls her eyes at his sarcasm, “Let me just go back in time and stop you from being a reckless idiot who goes around a battlefield like a ping-pong ball with complete disregard for her shields. Let me go back and stop you every time I heard you’d gone at least three days without sleep, or the fact that you barely ate or slept at all during the actual war. What limitations? The great Commander Shepard doesn’t need to be constrained to them like the rest of humanity is.”

Carrine returned his glare with her own, temper starting to build. ‘I’m sorry, when did I have time to sleep? Why would I have ever trusted a Cerberus-crewed ship to feel safe enough to sleep on one?’

“Oh my God, Carr, do you even hear yourself?” he groaned. “It’s like I’m talking to a wall. Your refusal to accept that you can’t do that shit anymore and shouldn’t have been doing it in the first place is a capital-p Problem!”

She paused to flip him off before continuing. ‘What choice did I have when colonies were being raided? When who knows how many people were abducted before we could stop them? When any second I wasn’t on the ground or coordinating something, worlds were burning and people were dying.’

“If I didn’t fear Miranda’s wrath I’d strangle you right now.”

The door gave a soft sound as the woman in question stepped into the room, raising an eyebrow at the tense positions of the Shepard siblings. “Do I even want to ask?”

Carrine promptly flicks her brother off again as he replies with a no. Miranda sighs, her arms crossing in front of her as she studies them, and decides getting in the middle of it is clearly not worth it. She hands Carrine a datapad, and a quick thumbprint scan unlocks it.

They’re Normandy reports, she recognizes immediately. She scans it quickly, figuring she can do an in-depth read later; she just wants to know if Kaidan and her crew are alright. Nothing sticks out, thankfully, but there are notes at the bottom they clearly left for her alone:

Joker, saying he’ll kick her ass himself if she doesn’t learn how to sleep, with Traynor chiming in that they’ll babysit her into staying in bed if they have to.

Garrus and Tali, expressing a lot of concern and promises to help in any way they can, including Tali’s offer to build her a translation drone. Garrus offers to add a gun to it.

Vega and Cortez, both saying she needs lessons in how to relax for once in her life.

Liara, reminding her that this is not the end and there is still much to explore. Javik, saying that he perfectly understands the guilt she feels and the sheer sense of loss that accompanies it. All that helps is time.

Her tech crew, chiming in that they’re working around the clock to get her crew home to her.

Kaidan, reminding her that none of this is her fault, that he loves her, and that he’s coming home.

For good.

+ Day 288

Ian was clearly still angry at her, and they had gone in circles arguing, although he was certainly smug that her therapist agreed with him the day prior. Despite it, he kept his word and hadn’t left her side, and now she was going off of hospital grounds for the first time since she’d woken up.

It had taken much cajoling, but she finally wore enough people down to allow her to visit Anderson’s grave and the memorial attached to it. Miranda was still concerned about someone making an attempt on her and insisted she accompany Carrine personally, and agreed with exasperation to Jack also coming along.

Ian wheeled her chair along slowly behind them, as her steps were still slow and halting, the group quiet as they approached. The snow had let up, but the sky was overcast and threatening to blanket the cleared ground once again; the grey of it felt oddly fitting.

The grave was simple, a stone pillar with a plaque depicting Anderson’s face, birth and death dates underneath. A simple line followed: “A man unlike any other, who gave his life in service to the galaxy.”

She wondered who approved the quote. She hoped it was Kahlee Sanders, or maybe Hackett. It wouldn’t feel right coming from anyone else; it would be too empty.

She dug her hands under her scarf, only having some difficulty grasping the chain she was aiming for, and slowly lifted it through the material and over her head. Her dog tags, worn and singed, still showed her name through the damage of the metal. Looping the chain around her hand, she pressed her palm against the plaque for a few moments before dropping them next to the sunflowers someone had left.

This part of her had died sitting next to Anderson on the Citadel. She didn’t feel right wearing the tags he’d given her anymore, and what better place to bury them than at the grave of the man who gave her a second chance at life?

Chapter Text

+ Day 302

Carrine had been allowed to delegate reports again, and although she was still bitter about being banned from the QEC, the teams working with the Normandy kept her in the loop. Her crew left notes for her on the reports where they could, mostly small details or comments they knew might get a laugh out of her. Never anything personal, never anything that could be incriminating, but enough to know they were in good enough spirits.

Except for Joker’s.

His amounted to the fewest, and they came furthest apart from each other. She didn’t miss how not a single comment was from EDI, and it seemed like the crew was very careful not to mention her at all. She’d heard no comment from anyone on Earth about the geth, either, and could only hope Rannoch was faring alright without them.

She didn’t regret choosing to destroy the Reapers once and for all; she couldn’t. It was the only chance they’d had and she wasn’t willing to waste it. As much as she cared for EDI, and about artificial life in general, the Reapers were a threat that had to be ended, regardless of the cost and she’d included herself in that price.

While she’d mourned the possibility that the Normandy was gone for good, knows she’ll be grieving Anderson for a while yet, Joker had been stuck on the ship with EDI’s body for even longer. She couldn’t imagine it; the thought of having to continue while Kaidan didn’t wasn’t something she could process. She could only hope the crew had been able to help him and make sure EDI was given a casket, or at least somewhere Joker wouldn’t have to see her every day.

Carrine was limited to her therapy rooms for now. Even though her walking had improved in stability and her endurance was growing, her doctors were very hesitant to push her limits given her tendency to do so unsupervised. Ian had stood guard at every appointment, fully ready to argue her down as soon as she started to overdo herself. The doctors wisely stayed out of the fights, save for Dr. Amal who seemed oddly thrilled they were happening at all.

“It’s progress,” she explained when they asked at the next session. “You’re embracing anger and constructing new patterns around it rather than just bashing your way through, Commander. It’s very good progress.”

She failed to see how arguing with Ian was ever a good thing, but the doctor could have her opinion.

Ian snorted. “I don’t think we’ve every really argued in earnest until this. Sure, plenty as kids over meaningless stuff-” Carrine’s scoff interrupted him, earning her an eye roll “-me not letting you drive a combine at age eight is not the argument you think it is, Carr. It’s been rather aggravating, and I can’t say I like it.”

Dr. Amal gave them a polite smile. “You’re comfortable throwing words around that can clearly be hurtful, yet you stand your ground next to each other anyways. She feels safe enough to push against you and you won’t leave. I get the impression the Commander doesn’t have many people she feels that comfortable around.”

Carrine could feel her cheeks heating up. Put that way, it sounds so incredibly cheesy and juvenile and she absolutely knows Ian is going to say something stupid and insufferable.

“Aww, my kid sister has feelings!” he mocked, carefully throwing an arm around her shoulder and bringing her close enough to give her a noogie. She shoves at his side rather ineffectively, grunting at him to get off. “That’s just the sweetest thing, I’m never letting this go now!”

“I wish you’d go back to being nice to me,” she grumbled, recently off of vocal rest and sounding as rough as when she’d first started therapy for it.

“I am nice to you, I argue with your doctors in your favor and everything.”

She won’t admit how much she missed this, the easy banter and conversation they’d had before they lost Mindoir, before he’d been tortured, before they were both too afraid of losing the other again to risk being harsh. It was like the ground becoming level again, except this time the pitfalls were on purpose for his amusement and her annoyance.

He released her, ruffling her hair one last time. Dr. Amal still had a small smile on her face.

“Now Commander, I’d like to talk to you about the welcome they’re planning for the Normandy.”

+ Day 318

The Vancouver spaceport looked nothing like how she remembered it. The balcony she was on could only overlook portions of it, but the land was nearly entirely barren. Most of the surrounding skyscrapers were destroyed in the invasion, and what debris could be moved without heavy machinery had been taken away months ago. Flickers of biotics and yells from construction teams could be seen and heard from her perch, but it wasn’t anything she could make out the details of. Asphalt and gravel covered the port as far as she could see, and the bones of a docking port were beginning to arch towards the sky.

A docking port. For her ship. Which, going by the last report, was only about two weeks from landing in that exact spot, only fully viewable from the opposite end of the hospital from where she was still stuck.

She was pretty sure that part was on purpose, given that she’d had most of the floor to herself the entire time she’d been trapped there. Oh sure, the hospital was a flurry of constant activity, overcrowded with victims and survivors both, even with one wing converted to a communications hub just because the building hadn’t sustained catastrophic damage somehow. But they’d isolated her for reasons she didn’t want to know or dwell on, and the only other people who’d been on the floor with her didn’t leave of their own power.

Hackett planned to greet the Normandy’s arrival personally – that much he’d told her, and they agreed to limited press on site to stop them from swarming the location. Carrine didn’t expect that to actually stop them from trying to swarm, but the olive branch was extended to the media regardless. She’d been surprised news of her breakdown hadn’t made it to their attention, and was grateful that the other people present seemed to realize it was simply not something to make a spectacle of. She could only hope her crew was afforded at least some of the same privacy.

Hackett was still refusing to give her an answer on whether she was going to be welcoming her crew home. Any time she tried bringing it up, she got completely stonewalled and only got herself more frustrated. She scratched her nails across her scalp as she sighed; there was no point dwelling on it when he wasn’t interested in answering her.

Ian had helped her with her hair the day before, evening out the patches that had grown in awkwardly thanks to the time spent with bandages on her head. The scar she had wrapping around the crown of it was ugly, mostly healed and hidden now with only the edge showing where her hair was shortest, but there was no hiding the burn scars that riddled the right side of her torso. From the lower part of her jaw, down her neck and right shoulder stretching nearly to her midsection and almost down to her hip, her armor had melted off and took her skin with it on her way up to the Citadel. The grafts had helped, but the burn scar was stubborn and Carrine wasn’t interested in cosmetic surgery. Her last one to fully correct her vision again had been completed weeks ago, and her hearing was nearly back at pre-injury levels. Her walking had improved, although her knee still bothered her at a distance, and she was beginning a jogging program in therapy. She was in biotics instruction, with restricted use of an amp but a full installation of a port. Her doctors were thrilled with the progress.

The Catalyst had been absent for weeks. Her nightmares were diminishing, although still horribly vivid when they happened. Her sleeping habits were still awful, but that feels like it’s more habit than need, now.

So why won’t Hackett let her greet her ship? She’d gotten better. Hadn’t she done what they’d wanted, yet again?

+ Day 334

Jack nearly broke the door, bursting into her room completely out of breath. “Get up.”

Carrine scrambled to her feet, swearing at her knee as she grabbed one of her crutches. Therapy had been brutal on her the day before, and she really should be staying off it, but clearly something was going on. “What happened?”

Jack marched over, slinging Carrine’s other arm around her shoulder and hurrying back out of the room. The crutch was barely staying in her grip at the speed Jack was forcing. “No time, we need to move and we need to move now.”

They were silent, moving down the hall as fast as Shepard could go. Jack’s frustration with the pace was clear, and she hollered for a hand as soon as they reached the outer stairwell. The door groaned under the weight of whoever opened it, and Carrine couldn’t stop the smile on her face if she’d tried.

“Grunt!”

“Shepard!” he bellowed, quickly taking Jack’s transfer of Carrine’s weight, hoisting her on his arm like she weighed nothing. “We gotta move. Keep up.”

Grabbing onto the shoulder pad of his armor, Carrine was awkwardly carried toward the pathway that wound around the exterior of the hospital, much to her annoyance. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Jack caught up to them, carrying her dropped crutch as she jogged. “Normandy’s docking. Hackett’s already there. I found out, realized you didn’t know, grabbed him, came running.”

Carrine stopped listening after Jack said the Normandy was docking. They were nearly here, they’d back on Earth any second, and – Hackett hadn’t told her, no one had given her notice, said a word, and –

They rounded a corner, and in all her beaten glory, paint and steel patchwork and burned and damaged, was the Normandy. Proud and broken and refusing to give up a single inch of herself.

The breath in her was gone, emotions spilling like an overturned tanker, threatening to burst into flames at the thought of a spark. Everything she’d hoped for was within reach, and the brass hadn’t told her.

Jack swore, and Carrine tore her gaze away from her ship. She had no idea how long she’d been staring, but they were much closer now, and security was going to notice them any second.

Well. Good thing they had a krogan.

The guards scrambled out of the way as Grunt snarled at them, accompanied by Jack’s colorful threats. They picked up the pace, and sooner than she’d thought they were on the ramp approaching the Normandy’s bay doors.

The bay doors, which were open, with her crew walking down it, Hackett’s back to her with his hand outstretched and shaking someone else’s, and Lana Alenko next to him, and another older couple she didn’t recognize just behind her. Grunt’s footfall was impossible to hide, and all five of them turned at the noise. Hackett dropped his hand as Grunt all but dumped her on her feet, fighting against her knee trying to buckle, and the time slowed to a stop when she saw Kaidan.

She began to run.

Kaidan shoved past Hackett, quickly overtaking the majority of the distance between them and Carrine threw her arms around his neck, a sob escaping her before she could stop it. He sounded no better, just repeating her name over and over, voice cracking half of the time, one arm a vice around her waist and the other curling up her back to her shoulder. The pressure hurt, and she welcomed it so long as it meant she could feel him again. Nothing else mattered. She heard camera shutters going off, and could not bring herself to care, breathing in a scent she’d missed so dearly. Ozone mixed with the spice of the body wash he favored, layered over himself.

One arm still around his neck, she got one loose enough to get her hand on his jaw, unused to the amount of scruff he’d grown out, and met his mouth with her own, ignoring any tears that got in between. It felt like coming home, and ended far too soon for her liking.

“Carrine,” he gasped, gently settling her back on the ground but grip not loosening in the slightest, so little distance between them still she could feel him say her name more than she heard it.

“Kaidan,” she replied, equally breathless, equally refusing any distance, “marry me.”

He laughed, sounding shocked at how light and joyful it came out, and said yes just as the rest of her crew caught up to them, Tali and Traynor shoving their way in to hug her as well. Cortez and Garrus had hands on her shoulders, and James stepped in behind Kaidan. Liara grasped her arm, pressing close next to Tali, and Javik stood only a few feet away from where they’d swarmed Carrine.  She couldn’t tell who was crying anymore, refusing to move her forehead from Kaidan’s or step out of the death grip they had on each other for even a moment.

Joker was the only one who hadn’t joined the swarm. As the group separated, the now sobbing couple greeted Traynor, and James and Liara were keeping a very stern-looking Hackett occupied. Lana had come over, quietly standing next to Kaidan and looking amused that they seemed incapable of separating.

“Joker,” she started, and he just shook his head, limping forward and hugging her. She returned it with her free arm, careful not to hurt him, and carefully did not pay attention to the fact her shoulder felt damp.

“I call dibs on being in the wedding party,” he said, voice wobbly but stronger than she’d expected, slightly muffled by being planted on her shoulder.

She snorted. “Are you kidding me? You’re gonna be my best man.”

Kaidan laughed, and she could feel his smile against the top of her head.

This was a future worth fighting for.

+ Day 335

To say Hackett was angry was probably downplaying the situation. Carrine argued that he hadn’t actually given her orders to remain away, and as captain of the Normandy she had every right to be present in the welcome party. The press photos had gone completely viral, especially the one where she had gone running to Kaidan and required a crowbar to be detached from him for longer than a few seconds.

“Technically, Admiral, I have been on leave,” she argued, “and my Spectre status overrides any issue of fraternization.” Kaidan’s hand tightened around hers; he’d refused to leave the room the second she was forcibly escorted back to it and separated from Jack and Grunt.

This did not help the expression on Hackett’s face. “They ignored it during the war, Shepard, because we had bigger problems. There was no use pursuing it after the SR1 was destroyed; you were presumed dead. Now we have a media mess on our hands because you can’t be patient, and now I can’t cover those tracks. The whole world has seen you two, and the rest of the brass is asking questions.”

“Then I quit.”

Both of them turned to Kaidan, surprise stopping their conversation in its tracks. He’d beaten her to saying it. Hackett recovered first. "What?"

"I quit. I give up my rank, I’ll leave the Alliance.”

Carrine stared at him. “No, Kaidan – ”

He returned the look, the expression on his face making it perfectly clear that he was about to be incredibly stubborn. “I don’t care. This is my choice, and I’m choosing us this time.”

“Have you thought this through, Major?” Hackett asked, carefully sliding back into neutrality.

A snort escaped her before Kaidan could answer, but he spoke before she could. As if he hadn’t thought about fifteen different ways this conversation could go before it ever started. “Yes, Admiral, I have. And I knew that we might be facing a court martial or orders to separate once we got back to Earth, but I’m done dodging anything about this. We’ve lost too much time already, I won’t be wasting any more.”

Carrine’s grip on his hand turned desperate, and he returned it. How he could say this shit so openly in front of Hackett of all people, in front of anyone, she doesn’t understand.

Hackett regarded him before speaking again, gears clearly spinning in his head. “Let me see if I can’t pull some strings. They won’t be willing to lose you as a Major, Alenko. Are you agreeable to moving sideways?”

Kaidan hummed. “What do you propose?”

“A position outside of combat. Equal in every other aspect. We need someone leading recruits, and you have teaching experience. Shepard won’t be combat ready for a long time yet, and by taking you both off of active duty I can prevent a court martial.”

That Hackett was offering to risk his own position and reputation amongst his peers to try and protect them was not something Carrine had expected of him. At best, she’d expected a full dressing down, at worst a discharge, but this? It hadn’t even been an option on the table.

They shook on it in agreement, and she couldn’t believe how long her luck had been holding.

+ Day 336

It was the first time in weeks she’d woken up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, jolting upright and swearing at the pinpricks across her right side. She knew before she looked that the Catalyst was at the foot of her bed, just waiting for her gaze to fall on it.

Thought you’d be lucky forever, huh? Just because they’re back? it mocked, Ashley’s voice colder than she knew it would have ever been. You’re still broken, remember?

She shuddered, trying not to as she didn’t want to wake Kaidan up. The bags under his eyes were deeper than her own, and she did not want to burden him with this.

“Shepard? Carr, what’s up?” he mumbled, voice heavy with sleep.

Shit. “Nothing. I’m fine.” Smart, definitely believable. Not a lie at all. The Catalyst laughed at her effort.

She closed her eyes as she felt him shift, moving to sit up next to her. The hand not around her hip began moving in smooth circles around her back as he quietly waited her out. She could hear the frown in his voice when it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything first. “Carrine?”

“It’s,” she started, “I’m. I don’t know.”

“Sweetheart, talk to me. I’m here. I won’t judge whatever’s going on, but you’re worrying me.” A few more minutes passed in silence, Carrine warring over what exactly she wanted to say. “Should I get Ian?”

Carrine shook her head as quickly as she could. Her brother had seen her weak enough times, and she did not want to bother him at some unholy hour yet again.

She took a breath. This was Kaidan, she reminded herself, who only hours ago was willing to leave the career he’d spent his life cultivating – for them. Kaidan, who has been as unwilling to let her out of arms’ reach as she has been since they saw each other on the ramp. Kaidan, who has seen her at her limits and her worst, afraid and biting, and did not move an inch from her side and chose to stay with her every single time. The first words out of her mouth upon seeing him, unexpected and unplanned, had been to ask him to tie himself to her for life, and he’d said yes.

He already knew that she has issues from the war, that she has issues stemming from surviving the impossible. He doesn’t know about this, the shimmery fucking mimicry of a child with Ashley’s voice that’s haunted her since before she knew she’d survived.

The words come, slowly, haltingly. She speaks, forcing out clipped words in a tone she can’t fully control yet. He doesn’t say a word, simply wraps himself around her: knee bent and against her lower back, other leg extended next to hers, torso pressed tightly against her own with his arms around her waist and his chin on her shoulder. She can feel the rasp of his stubble, breathes in time with him, and knows he is doing this on purpose. Kaidan’s always been the steady one, immovable, willing to protect her in whatever way she’ll allow and in many other ways she would never.

She doesn’t deserve him. He loves her regardless.

She finishes, and the room is quiet. The sky is beginning to lighten, predawn peeking into the space through the small window every ICU room has. It took hours for her to get the story out, not wanting to miss anything but cautious of his reaction.

Kaidan softly takes her hand, rubbing his thumb across the tattoo that has a match on his own ring finger. His voice is soft, quiet and controlled when he finally speaks, voice rumbling against her ear. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. You’re here, you’re alive, with me, and death hasn’t stopped us before. I’m sorry I haven’t been here to help you.”

She turns instantly, cupping his face in her hands and ignoring the spike of pain the quick movement causes. His eyes close as she rubs her thumbs under them. She wishes she could take away the burdens that made the creases there so deep, the color so off. “Stop. None of this was your fault. You had enough on your plate, and it looks like you’ve gotten as little sleep as I have.” She frowns, noticing how much more pronounced his cheekbones are, that the lines on his face had gone from crows feet to stress. His hair has so much more grey in it than she remembers. “You’ve lost weight.”

He shrugs, as much as their position allows. “Rations. Not much you can do when your four month food supply has to last twice that. You know how it goes.” She does, not that it helps her growing concern. “We were all stressed, especially being stranded and in the dark like that. We had no idea what had happened. We were terrified there’d be no response when Joker tried making contact with Earth.”

“Tell me.”

And he does, slowly but surely. The first weeks literally and figuratively in the dark, emergency power supplies dwindling as Tali and Traynor raced to figure out a way to get solar energy to help get some of the core systems running. Tensions running high as no one knew what had happened on Earth, to any of the ships that had scrambled when the Normandy had, who might still be alive. What had happened to Shepard, to Anderson, to any of Hammer or the quarian or turian fleets. All they had to work with was a ship dead in the water, a horrifyingly low amount of food, and a staff full of grieving crew. Joker was impossible after they’d crashed, after EDI went dark and Adams declared her dead, lashing out at everyone and not pulling any punches. He'd nearly started a fight between three different crew members before Kaidan had to formally intervene, isolating him in the medbay for his own safety. He hadn’t pried, but Chakwas cleared him after two weeks and he was calmer after, though surly when anyone could get a response after him. James had the idea to set up a boxing club, keeping people active and working as a stress reliever.

It was another month until they had any sign of hope. The panels Tali and Traynor rigged up had gotten enough power that they were able to get the drive core going again. There was hope that they could finally start the limp home, as they shifted to actively patching the hull and making her space worthy again. With the core online, Adams tried raising EDI one final time, and the response was silence.

The Crucible had worked. Anything with Reaper technology involved in it was well and truly dead. That included EDI, and he was terrified it included Carrine.

The limp back to the Sol system began in earnest, the Normandy wobbling to flight and strict rationing of food began. While necessary, it never meant a happy crew, and an unhappy crew meant a tense crew. It was all he and Chakwas could do to keep everyone civil on the bad days, and engineering rooms served as quarantine when tempers ran too hot. He didn’t like it, but he wasn’t willing to jeopardize their return.

The Charon relay was in pieces when they finally approached it, not even realizing what it was until they came up on a recognizable planet, and Joker started trying to contact Earth, an attempt fresh on every hour. Finally, through the static, a VI responded to them. He came running when Joker yelled, expecting yet another problem, only to be greeted with a voice he thought he’d never hear again.

“I knew it was you, but you sounded so different and I didn’t know what that meant. I knew something had happened, but the severity? I had no idea, and that terrified me,” he said, the exhaustion fully seeping into his voice now. “I hoped you were alright, worried that you blamed yourself, worried about. Well, everything, really.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not – I suck at saying the right thing,” she whispered. This didn’t feel like a full volume conversation anymore. “I didn’t – I’m sorry this is all that’s left of me, that this is all I can offer you.” He immediately began to protest, and she slid a thumb down to his lips to quiet him. “But I can’t change any of that. Part of me did die that day, and I laid that to rest at Anderson’s grave. I’m doing my best to make peace with it, and trying to learn to live with the rest of it. Some days are worse than others, and sometimes the nightmares keep me from sleeping for days. But whatever I have left of me is yours.”

He sighed, reaching to move her hand and entwining their fingers. “What part of any of that makes it sound like I’m blaming you? You have nothing to apologize for, Carr. You quite literally did the impossible, several times over, and you’re still alive. I’m so grateful for that I don’t know how to tell you. Every time I slept up in the cabin, everything reminded me of you. The datapads everywhere, the jackets in your locker; I hated the first night I slept after the wash cycle for the room. It was like you disappeared again and I couldn’t stand it. I wasn’t able to after a while, actually. Couldn’t manage to sleep up there without you, but sometimes it was the only place left that could get quiet in a bad migraine.”

“I’m guessing the stress didn’t help.”

He snorted, quietly. “It definitely did not. Mom mentioned the sign language I taught you came in handy the past few months.”

“Yeah, it did. For a while I couldn’t speak at all,” she sighed, shifting to lean into him more fully. He leaned back as she tucked herself against him, legs tangling under the thinnest sheet they could find. “It’s still rough, sometimes. I’m not used to hearing myself like this.”

“Well, you still sound hot if that helps.”

A surprised laugh barked its way out of her, the stupid joke breaking the spell of emotional intimacy. She shook her head. “Well, that beard certainly does you favors too, you know.”

She felt it scratch along her head as he smiled, curling his arm tighter around her shoulder. “I’ll do my best to keep it. I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking we should get some more sleep.”

It still felt surreal, to be back at his side, to have this and their relationship no longer threatened by – well, everything, really. Part of her didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to miss hearing him snore right before he gets into a deep sleep, or to forget a moment of contact.

“Carrine. I can hear you thinking. We have time.” A kiss pressed to her forehead, nails scratching gently across her scalp. “You have me, I'm not going anywhere. Get some sleep.”

She let her eyes fall closed, breathed him in, and slept as the sun fully rose.

Chapter Text

+ Epilogue

The crew’s desire to celebrate was palpable and understandable, but Carrine had no interest in planning a wedding. Ian took to it with an almost alarming amount of zeal, immediately teaming up with Lana and roping Tali and Miranda into the planning process. After the third shrugged response from her, he stopped asking for her opinions and only asked for Kaidan’s instead.

It suited her just fine. A party to lift morale and move the planet forward, one because of a marriage between two heroes of the Reaper War no less, was going to be a large and public event she did not want to trouble herself with.

Ian would steal off with Kaidan during her therapy sessions, and occasionally her speech sessions. Despite her more frequent conversations and practice with her coach, her voice had not returned to the way it was before her stay in the hospital; it seemed this would be a permanent change.

Kaidan refused to miss her physical therapy sessions, waiting at the end of the bars every time, always ready to catch her when she stumbled, or doing the treadmill exercises right alongside her, giving encouragement the whole time. Slowly, the bags under his eyes seemed to disappear; his cheeks no longer looked so hollow.

Nearly a month had gone by, days following the same routine that she no longer despised. When the Catalyst threatened to go further than her peripheral line of sight, all she has to do is reach out, take Kaidan’s hand, and remember he’s here. They made it. No matter what that stupid hallucination says, it can’t mimic the physicality of this: the calluses on his hands, the soft raised lines of his tattoo, the heartbeat thrumming against her fingers at his wrist. The days she’d wake before him, she felt like she could spend the whole morning just mapping his face with her hands; the mornings she didn’t, she woke tucked into the crook of his neck with his fingers scratching at her scalp.

She couldn’t believe she got to have this, sometimes. That she got to keep it, that Kaidan wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him.

+ Day 365

The door to her room clicked open, Ian’s palms slapping against the door frame obnoxiously loud. Carrine groaned, shoving her face further into the pillow to try and ignore him a little longer as Kaidan adjusted his arm around her waist.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” Ian called. “You two have plans today.”

“No,” Carrine groaned once more, “we do not. Fuck off, Ian.”

“Yes, you do,” he sang, footsteps growing closer to the bed. “Time to get up.”

With a shift, Kaidan sat up, allowing her head to slide onto the pillow. “Ian, what are you talking about?” he asked.

She could hear the smug grin on Ian’s face. “Like I said, you two have plans. C’mon already, before I have to drag her out of bed by her ankles.”

With a shove, she rose to her elbows to glare at him. “This better be worth it, Ian.”

He met her scowl with a grin. “Trust me, it will be.”

Thirty minutes later, Ian had led them to one of the few courtyards of the hospital that had been restored. Bushes just starting to bloom and flowers to spread were encased by the brick-lined border of the walkway, swept clean of debris. Kaidan still held onto the arm she didn’t have a crutch strapped to, the only person she hadn’t fought with over unasked for support.

A small gazebo was at the curve of the walkway, halfway through the path connecting the wing Shepard was still in to the wing the Alliance had commandeered. She narrowed her eyes, a glance granting her the headcount of her crew alongside Hackett and Lana Alenko.

“Ian,” she started, “what’s going on?”

Ian pivoted to step in front of them, taking Carrine’s shoulders and beaming at her. “I know tomorrow is going to be super busy, and you’re going to hate the crowd and the press and getting shoved into your dress blues. But this? This is just family, Carr. No one here will judge you for anything, we’re just happy for you. That you’re doing better, that you look alive again.” He shifted, taking a step closer to wrap her into a hug. Her arm dropped from Kaidan’s grip as she returned it, clutching at the back of his shirt in surprise. “I’m so proud of you.”

Carrine leaned her forehead on his shoulder. This was – they had planned this? It was hectic enough knowing they’d planned such a large wedding in such a short amount of time, but do this so she wouldn’t have to bare her emotions in full to the public? She didn’t deserve this.

“Okay, kid,” he said, shifting again to rest his hand on her shoulder and standing on her other side. “Let’s get you married.”

The trio walked to the gazebo, going at Carrine’s pace. Hackett stood as officiant, with Lana and Joker flanking either side of him. The crew filled out each half of the remaining space, leaving enough in the middle for Carrine and Kaidan. She didn’t miss the hat placed on a stool next to Joker, the same style Anderson wore during the war. She wasn’t ready to choke up just yet, and gripped Kaidan’s hand as tightly as she dared.

Ian walked them to the final steps before releasing Carrine with a last squeeze on her shoulder before moving into place beside Lana, opposite Miranda’s spot next to Joker.

“The kind of story Shepard’s had feels like it should start with ‘once upon a time,’” Hackett began, uniform as pressed as she’s ever seen it. “But I’m not that kind of storyteller, and Shepard’s not that kind of hero. She’s been grit and mettle, and earned her place in the halls of the lauded several times over. We owe a lot to her, and to the whole crew of the Normandy. We’ve all asked a lot of her, and I’ve personally demanded a lot of her, and hell if Shepard hasn’t delivered each and every time. There are a lot of things I’ve had to overlook in my career, but having the pleasure to overlook Shepard and Major Alenko is a risk I’m glad I took. Few times have I seen two soldiers flourish in their careers as you two have, and I do firmly believe it’s largely in part because you had each other.”

Kaidan’s hand shifted, slipping his fingers to intertwine against hers as Hackett spoke. She partially tuned out, unable to keep her eyes off of Kaidan’s smile, only blinking back when he addressed them directly.

“Kaidan Alenko, do you take Carrine Shepard to be your partner, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?” Hackett recited.

Kaidan’s smile was nothing short of radiant. “I do.” He took a breath, reaching his free hand up to cradle her cheek before continuing. “I’m with you no matter what comes, Carrine. We’ve been through hell to be here, and I’d go through it all again to be with you. If there’s a future to be had, I’ll gladly face it with you at my side. I love you.”

She took a shuddered breath, leaning into his hand before it slid away and Hackett continued once more. “Carrine Shepard, do you take Kaidan Alenko to be your partner, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”

She ignored Joker’s snort of laughter behind her, and gave a wry smile as Kaidan’s eyes crinkled. “I’ve been dead, and it still couldn’t keep me away from you. There’s no line I would not cross, no valley I would not wander to find you, as many times as it took. Whatever is left of me, I give to you, as long as I shall live. I do.”

She couldn’t take her eyes off Kaidan, barely hearing Hackett’s voice over the blood rushing in her ears. “I now present you as married to the world, so that no man may tear asunder. You may now-”

Carrine didn’t let him finish, the laughter of their friends and family washing over her as she uses her grip on Kaidan’s hand to bring them together, his free hand coming up to cradle her face once again as their lips meet, hungry and wanting and wholly inappropriate while surrounded by people. She didn’t care, raising her hand to thread through his hair as his now free hand went to her waist, lips parting as she felt a growing desperation to try and crawl into his ribs, protect his heart with her own hands.

A wolf-whistle from Vega finally broke them apart, breathing a little heavier and framed with wide smiles. A chorus of cheers went up around them, and she finally felt herself let go of the last threads of war.

She had a future, and it was one she was excited for.