retrace | ic ⌥ shepard & stephen [how it should have happened]

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ic ⌥ shepard & stephen [how it should have happened]

It eventually stopped worrying her, when Stephen went out on his own. By now, it's been so long since Kernos took Brian that the paranoia's started to fade. Her crew, she's much more worried for. Garrus, Tali, and Miranda are the only ones Kernos hasn't taken from her at least once, and most of them haven't come back. But her friends, her actual legitimate allies--Stephen, Sheva, Wesley--it seems like they're in it for the long haul.

So when she answers the incoming ping from Stephen's phone, she's expecting a 'found some ammo that might fit your gun', or maybe even 'I'm in the mall, d'you think Sheva would want more pancake mix?' But what she gets instead is gunfire and static drowning out anything Stephen might be trying to say.

The gunfire says enough, though. "I'm on my way," is her sharp reply, and it's true. She's already got her guns strapped to her back and is on her way out the door.

It doesn't take long for Shepard to reach the half-patched hole she and Erik put through the south wall a few days back, and her eyes are scouring the beach even as she's still sliding through the gap. But there's really no need for that, it turns out. Because the gunfire picks back up now, and Shepard's off like a shot, sprinting down toward the beach and drawing her rifle in the meantime. And after one final beach-grass-covered dune, she spots him. Or at least, the mess of monsters that she's pretty sure Stephen's in the center of.

Thank god she hasn't reached the soft sand yet, because nothing is going to slow her down now. With urgent efficiency, she sends a few shots through one monster's skull, then another. She's coming, Stephen. Just hang on.

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It was just supposed to be another routine beach sweep. Maybe he was getting cocky, sloppy, too used to the way it usually went down. He'd see a monster, maybe two, usually the smaller ones, but the majority of them never seemed very fond of wasting time out on the beach, and he was quiet and fast enough to avoid the ones that did. So what the hell had gone wrong this time?

Somehow he had fucked up. Miscalculated. Whatever happened he had almost literally stumbled into a group of the damn things. Feeding, hunting, whatever they had been doing before, Stephen had been far more interesting. Now he was fighting for more than a chance to get away. He was fighting for his life. Kicking sand up in their eyes where he could reach it.

He'd gone down over a dune, skidded to a stop on his back and knocked his phone loose. It was somewhere in the mess of them, broadcasting the yowls and gunshots. Another empty clip in the assault rifle, he had to have gotten at least half of those into head shots but the creatures were not staying down.

"Fuck..." The muffled curse was barely understandable as he slammed the butt of the weapon into the nearest beasts head. He bit down hard on the handle of the dagger in his mouth as claws and teeth slashed at him from all directions, his mind bolting down dark corridors at the far too close to comfort familiarity of this situation. Slamming another clip into the gun he began firing again, dissolving at least one of the nearest creature's heads into a mass of blood and bullet holes. The time for one bullet- one beast was far from now. This was pure survival instincts.

Edited 2012-03-06 00:09 (UTC)

Shepard threw herself into the fray, letting bullets loose into skulls at a much closer range than her rifle was meant for and driving her fist into those too close even for shooting. It was times like these, times of rage or in defense of an ally, that it really became obvious quite what Cerberus had done to her, when they'd brought her back--a normal punch might crack a beast's skull, but Shepard's positively collapsed it. She hadn't the slightest clue how he'd gotten himself into this mess, but she damn sure was getting him out of it.

And it seemed to be working, too. There was a definite Shepard-sized dent in the clusterfuck surrounding Stephen. But was it working fast enough?

Stephen was completely out of ammo by the time Shepard joined the fray. He was lashing out at anything with in reach with both dagger and his boots. His fighting had grown frantic, nearly desperate by the time he realized Shepard had joined in. He slammed the heel of his boot into one of the creatures, biting back a sound that might have been a cry of pained surprise when one of the overgrown spiders that had crept up on him sank it's fangs into his other arm.

The serrated hunting knife buried itself straight through the creatures exoskeleton into the ground as he ripped his arm free. He hadn't even had the chance to keep track of the number of wounds the monsters had managed to get in so far, but he had a feeling the slick ground beneath him was drenched in more than just the blood of the beasts he'd been riddling with bullets.

"Shepard." His voice was rough and strained when he yelled to her, fighting to help clear the path. "You bloody fool." He added the last bit with a fond sort of desperation. He didn't have the will to tell her to back off, he knew she wouldn't listen. "On your six."

Shepard was supremely focused on taking out as many of these motherfuckers as she possibly could, especially the ones between her and Stephen. That being said, she was just slightly too distracted to notice the spider sinking its fangs into Stephen's arm, not without any sort of shout or cry over the sounds of the monsters and gunfire to alert her.

On the plus side, one more beast down and she's reached him, immediately whirling so her back's to him and gunning down one, then two more monsters. She heard what he said, though and let out a chuckle too low for him to hear. "I save your ass and you call me names," she called back. "I guess chivalry really is dead."

And then all traces of humor vanish from her face. Because the monsters on the outskirts, the ones she took down first when she leapt into the fight, were getting right back up. Smashed skulls and hole-ridden bodies and all.

No fucking way.

"Stephen?" She shoots down another bat, then a hairless cat, not that she expects that to last long at this point. With an unspoken 'Don't be alarmed, but...' "They're getting back up."

"I know." He shoves the dagger deeper into the spider, pinning it to the ground. At least that one wasn't going anywhere for a while. How the hell were they going to get out of this one? It was bad enough when they were able to take the damn things out. Now it was just temporary, and he was a walking snack bar for their senses with the blood coating his clothes.

"We need to move. Fast." The response was coupled with a bitter laugh as he tugged the sniper rifle off his back, giving a reluctant glance to his dagger. He really didn't want to leave it. It was a gift from Nick. Then again it wasn't going to be much use to him soon.

Bloody gashes from their claws and teeth riddled his back and arms, a few had even gotten close enough to rip and tear at his chest and neck. How many wounds were there now? He was loosing blood fast. "I know this is pointless to try and say but fuck, Shepard, you'll do better to leave me."

And she was ready to move, too, but at this point enough monsters were respawning that there was really no path out anymore. No the one she came in, and not any of the others. Maybe if they could fight their way out, but that'd be just as bad as when she fought her way in. Shepard took down the nearest monster and glanced over her shoulder at Stephen, an instant-assessment of his general condition.

And no. There was definitely no way that they were getting out.

There was no verbal response to the 'leave me' comment, but there was most definitely refusal in the way her shoulders straightened, the way she unleashed another spray of bullets into the monsters. But this was endless, and she knew it. There was only a half-second's warning in the form of a blue glow appearing around her hands before a shockwave of biotics knocked the beasts back. It wouldn't be for long, but she had enough time to turn and send the monsters on his side reeling too.

And with enough space now, a biotic dome's forming overhead. Not too tall, no taller than six and a half feet at best, and not much more than that in diameter either. But a barrier's a barrier, and the monsters are now scrambling uselessly against the outside of it.

"I'll call for back-up," Shepard explained, eyeing the monsters a little longer to make sure the barrier would hold. But then her gaze turned on Stephen, and... I guess she wasn't expecting this much of a mess or something, because her formerly military-casual expression faded to poorly-masked concern. "Shit," she breathed, and then in her usual 'why do you always get hurt, Stephen?' tone, she added, "Where's the worst?" Her hands were already reaching for the partial-pouch of medi-gel in her armor's storage compartment.

Stephen was already beginning to feel the brute of the blood loss now that the adrenaline was starting to dissipate. He was weak, dizzy, and his limbs felt like lead as he lifted a hand to stop her.

"Save it." He grimaced, using her more solid form to drag himself back up at least partially. "Spiders." He had done enough research on the beasts around here by now to know the spiders were venomous. He wasn't sure how useful her medi-gel was against poison, but it wouldn't matter. Too many wounds in too many really unfortunate places.

He took another ragged breath, glancing at the reviving monsters around them with a grimace. Shit was right, and not just his numerous wounds. What the hell was going on with Kernos?

Carefully, Stephen twisted his arm around to touch at the gashes covering his back and choked on another sound he didn't feel like letting go. This was different than last time. Last time had been a far faster death than this. But he had also been alone.

"Fuck, I really wish we had some alcohol." For once he wasn't talking about disinfecting his wounds, either.

When he tried to use her to stand up, she shook her head, crouching down to his level instead. If he was dead-set on standing, she'd help him, but otherwise it'd just make things harder for him. As long as the barrier was up, they weren't going much of anywhere, anyway.

Then he mentioned the spiders. "Let me see it." Her voice was sharp--it was definitely not negotiable--but even if it was, she was already reaching for the arm in question anyway, grasping it as far from the bites as possible so it wouldn't cause him any unnecessary pain. "It's still fresh." She glanced up to Stephen now. "I can get the venom out."

He really just wanted to sit up, but even that was taking a bit more effort than he would like. The world spun again at a movement just a bit too quick and he leaned heavily on her, closing his eyes.

"Shepard... I'm not-" He shook his head, running a bloodied hand through his hair. It was shaking. He knew Shepard could see as plainly as he could feel that this wasn't going to last. But he'd rather die from blood loss than the venom speeding to his heart. He remembered what being poisoned had been like the first time, and reliving it sounded a hell of a lot worse.

"All right."

When his weight fell against her, she exhaled slowly, trying her best not to be so... resigned. Even if death's not permanent here, it's still not something she ever plans to roll over and accept, in herself or in any of her allies. And with the number of times she's dragged him off of his perpetual path to get himself killed, it'd be an incredible shame to let it go now.

Either way, if she's going to be supporting his weight here, she's shifting to sit instead of crouch. No need to bother with balance this way. One hand comes to rest on his back, more for support than anything, but the amount of blood under her palm gets to her a little more than it should.

Thank god he's conceding, that's definitely a welcome distraction. Because there's no way she's even remotely okay with him letting that venom spread.

...If it hasn't already. Shit, what if it spread already? Shepard refuses to acknowledge that possibility, instead wasting no more time in seizing his wounded arm in a grip just barely tight enough to partially cut off the blood flow, and bringing the wound to her mouth to apply the appropriate suction. She knows exactly what she's doing--while there's nothing too terribly venomous in most of Citadel space, the Alliance trained their fresh meat in just about every combat-medic scenario known to man and some from the other council races to boot. And Shepard had always paid attention (the faster she learned, the sooner she got the hell out of Basic).

So the whole process is quick and efficient, and then she's spitting most of the venom off to the side. What's left in her mouth is promptly forced down her throat with a brief shudder down her spine, if for no other reason than to get it the hell away from her taste buds as quickly as possible. Vile stuff, spider venom.

Before he can really worry, she assures him, "It won't hurt me." A pause, then a headshake. "Bartender on the Citadel tried to poison me once. All it did was knock me on my ass for an hour or two." She let out a low chuckle. "Then I wandered back in for a real drink. It was like he saw a ghost." She made that batarian drink his own damn poison, at that point, but she's casually leaving that part off of the story.

But any and all humor's fading, because it's becoming more clear by the minute how bad of shape he's in. She can't just... not. "Where's the worst, Stephen?" It's the same question she asked before, but she means it this time. Her free hand's pulling out the partial pouch of medi-gel despite what he says.

Stephen is trying his best to let her do what she needs to do. He's begun to learn that Shepard's stubbornness is at least on par, if not above and beyond Nick's. But this place was dangerous, shit happened, and it wasn't like people never came back from dying. Right? He winced as he slumped a little further against her. He was loosing blood too fast from too many wounds. It wouldn't matter where she put the medi-gel and he knew it. He was fairly certain she did, too, considering the growing pool of blood beneath him.

"No, Shepard. Save it for someone it'll actually do some good on." There was resignation in the undertones of his voice, and maybe he had been reckless with his life on the island, but he had always stubbornly escaped this and, well, death hadn't been fun the first time. It wasn't looking any better this time, either. He gave her the sternest look he could manage, dropping his less injured arm behind him for extra support. It was shaking now too.

He didn't Say 'it's too late', but the look he gave her did and he really hoped she didn't make him spend the last of his energy fighting this. Fumbling with his wrist with blood slicked fingers he tugged off the watch Nick had given him for his birthday and pushed it into her hands.

"You lose this and I swear to God I will find a way to kill you."

Edited 2012-03-06 13:48 (UTC)

And she's accepting the watch, but looking utterly confused. "What?" She looks from Stephen to the bloody watch in her hand, and after a second back to Stephen. "You'd still have this when you respawn." It sounds a little more like a question than it probably should.

"Just do it for me, all right? I do not want to wake up to find it smashed or swiped when I do." Stephen barely stops himself from saying if. He's not going to have the 'just in case' conversation right now. It's like he can actually feel the life draining out of him with his blood, and it's so different from last time that there's actually a bit more fear to it. The first time he died it was with resignation to his fate. This time? It was like he was just... waiting. But the pain was ebbing away with the rest of it, dulling, becoming distant.

"Those bloody fuckers." He groans and watches the beasts trying to find a way through the barrier, wincing as the shift of his muscles relaxing reawakens pain all over his body.

"Shit. I really messed this one up, Shepard.

Shepard doesn't argue any further, instead tucking the watch back in with her medi-gel where it's safe. In fact, she manages to keep her opinions to herself through his next couple of comments to. Until the last one.

Then she's frowning and shaking her head. "It's a pain in the ass now, but you'll be good as new five, six hours tops." Dryly, she tacks on, "Trust me. I've been there."

Except she shot herself in the head instead of bleeding out on the beach. It's always on the beach, isn't it? And here she always heard of beaches in a positive light, back in Citadel. She almost wonders, though, if it'd be better to end this quickly this time around, too. Wonders, but wouldn't even consider mentioning it. It'd have to be his own idea, like it was hers. And besides, it seems like he's suffering a little less than a couple of minutes ago. All that means is that it's bad enough to numb him, but still.

"So I'm not sure how this works," she admits after a silence. Shepard usually doesn't sit with people while they bleed out--her enemies tend to be the ones on the dying end, and when they aren't, they generally make it quick. "Thinking this is the part where I keep talking, god knows you could do for a distraction right about now," she continues, significantly more casual than she feels, though she's doing pretty good at hiding it. "But I'm not so great at smalltalk."

It was quickly becoming clear just how much blood he had already lost. His breathing had grown ragged and strained as his lungs tried to make up for his body's lack of oxygen. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, trying to slow his racing heart as it worked against him, sending blood speeding through his veins straight to the open wounds.

He really wasn't that much of a pride-driven man, but being seen this weak around Shepard was a bit difficult. He knew she had seen plenty of death in her time, and he had really been hoping his wouldn't be added to that list.

"Fuck." He gasped the word, his arm giving out on him as the majority of his weight slumped against hers. How long did it take to die of blood loss? His death had felt like it had taken an eternity last time, and he was certain it had lasted no more than a couple minutes. This was dragging on far longer. "Might be best to just-" He trailed off and shook his head. He wasn't sure he could bring himself to pull the trigger and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask her to do that for him.

"Anything. Fuck. Talk about anything."

When his arm gave out, she was ready with the hand that isn't on his back planted firmly in the sand behind her for support. The sand, she hadn't thought of that. Sand in a wound's almost as bad as salt, she's come to learn, and he had more wounds than skin at this point.

And any other time, 'talk about anything' would've left her at even more of a loss for what to say, but there was something about the urgency in his tone that pulled the first thing to mind straight out of her mouth. "I never told you about Akuze." It had been on her mind lately, but she didn't tell him why--he'd think she was absolutely crazy, at best. "It was this-... this routine chicken-shit mission on a planet with barely enough technological advancement to wipe their own ass. Easy in, easy out, just to keep the squad from going nuts on the ship like an animal in a cage."

There was a pause, and she shook her head a little. "Didn't go how we planned. A thresher maw came out of nowhere, took out two of my men before we could even take out our weapons." By now, her gaze had drifted from Stephen up through the top of the barrier to the clear, sunny sky.

"It all went to hell from there. I told 'em to get to the ship, but that was a whole lot easier said than done. It was too dark to see a damn thing, and everyone was shooting and the thresher was roaring and my men were all shouting but hell if I could hear a word of it." Funny how she could hear it in her head better than she could hear the cacophony of the monsters on the other side of the barrier. Not that she'd let on with that part, either. "Found one of them--Ortega. Joel Ortega. He said the others were following orders, already got the hell back to the ship. Said he had more ammo, so he'd cover my ass on the way back in." He probably hadn't had more ammo than she did, in retrospect. But she'd been young at the time.

"I wasn't ready. I had the best squad in our rank and almost beat out some of the N7's, and there hadn't been a single damn mission we'd failed so far, but whatever this was, I wasn't ready for it. So I didn't think. I just took his word and hauled ass back to the ship. But when I got there, he wasn't behind me. God, I didn't even know I'd lost him. And I was the first one back. The only one." She swallowed, and her tone had taken on a bitter edge, though she didn't realize it. "I was the best in my rank and I left my whole squad out there to die." A dry chuckle. "And Alliance sure as hell wasn't about to let me go back after what was left of them."

And it's kind of occurring to her why she might've told him all of this. (Because all things considered, it's not exactly common knowledge.) So she tags on, "I guess that explains why the hell I'm still out here."

Stephen gave a breathless,pained laugh, short and cutoff abruptly at the summation of her comment.It was not the story he was laughing at, not her either. It was just the entire situation they were in, and the lack of oxygen to his brain that was messing with his mind a bit.

"I'm sorry, Shepard." He wasn't sure anymore what he was apologizing for. For laughing, for the things she had been through, or even for this now. He just felt he had to say something. Fuck, he was thirsty and his head was pounding and he really did not need that on top of all the other things shooting pain through his body right now.

"When I get back, we need to have a few drinks." And swap stories. Because he still had a few he wanted to tell her, too. About Connor and Abby, the dinosaurs, Abby's ridiculous idea to keep one of the anomalies as a pet. Some of the lighter stories. Stories about Earth.

Right now he could barely make a sentence without sending his body into a fit, fighting for more oxygen, he tried to move and barely stopped himself from crying out.

"I always thought bleeding to death would go a lot faster than this."

At his apology, she shook her head. There was nothing to apologize for. She didn't need his sympathy, and she this current situation sure as hell wasn't his fault. And his second statement went straight past her, because by then she was too distracted by how hard it seemed to be for him to think. To breathe. She was too distracted by what he'd almost said.

So by the time he made his 'bleeding out' comment, her response was quiet but immediate. "It can, if that's what you want." After a second and in a slightly less serious voice, she tacked on, "I'll monopolize the island's alcohol while you're gone. Hell, I'll even bring you a bottle at the Shrine." Because that's what Erik did for her, and it definitely helped.

Normally Stephen would have argued. Any other time at all, he would have argued. Right now, the idea sounded really good. It could be over, now, and a few more hours he would wake back up at the shrine to alcohol and more time to figure out what was going on with the beasts.

He closed his eyes,fighting to force his breathing to something manageable. It felt like they had been sitting there for hours. He was certain it had only be minutes, at most.

"Hate to admit it sounds better than this." The s dragged out in a hiss as dull pain sharpened and lanced through him again.

She figured as much. Honestly, she didn't blame him--she didn't even wait this long, when she offed herself. Then again, she was a ticking time bomb at the time, so that was a different matter.

But at this point, he was suffering, and no amount of prejudice toward death in general changed the fact that respawning in two to six hours brand new was significantly more humane than slowly bleeding out here first.

She had to ask, though. "You're sure?"

Sure was about as far from how Stephen felt as anything else, but slight numbing aside, everything hurt. Even breathing was making his lungs and throat burn with the strain, and his brain wasn't coping well with it at all. He tried to tug his pistol loose, maybe he could manage it himself. Then he wouldn't feel quite as guilty about it later.

"Sure as I'll ever be."

And she watched him try to draw his pistol, and even that was a little too hard for him in this state. Her lips pressed together in disapproval for a second. "You don't have to-..." No, that wasn't what she was trying to say. "I mean, I could... help. If it'd be easier."

"I can't-" Stephen shook his head, finally managing to slide the pistol out. "I can't ask you to do that, Shepard." It was something he would not even have asked Cutter to do for him. It was too much to ask, even knowing he would be back in a few hours, but it was clear he was not going to manage it on his own regardless of what he said. His limbs were too weak already, and his head was spinning with the lack of oxygen the blood loss was causing.

Edited 2012-03-08 13:55 (UTC)

For a second, she was ready to accept that. To let him do it himself, if he was so adamant. But he was still struggling with that damn pistol, and he could barely lift his arm as it was.

And for some reason, this frustrated her. More than she was already frustrated, that is. Shepard scowled, and her words came out harsher than she meant them to. "Shit, Stephen, who the hell do you think you're kidding?"

And her free hand shifted to draw her pistol, though it rested against her thigh for now. She wasn't just going to up and shoot him. Not without... hell, she didn't even know what she was waiting for. Just not so abruptly, I guess.

"Just tell me when."

For a few brief moments, Stephen looked like he was going to fight it. Either do it himself or just keep bleeding out onto the beech, sand working deeper into his wounds and the beasts outside the barrier sending flashbacks that wrecked his determination.

He let the hand holding the pistol drop weakly back into the sand, closing his eyes to take a deep breath in. He only managed to get half way through it before he had to gasp the air back out of his lungs. Yeah. This needed to end. Before his lungs seized and his body went further into shock. He had seen those deaths before, and he was not looking to try it out himself.

"Thank you, Shepard." He hated how pathetic it sounded, and what she was about to do, to help him, but he'd be back in a few hours and they could drink away the memory of it and share stories, and figure out what had caused the sudden apparent immortality of the island's monsters.

Stephen forced a smile and a short, breathless laugh as he looked at the gun, a few seconds too long that let realization of what they were about to do sink in and he was shoving it back out of his thoughts. He squared his shoulders, despite the pain it lanced through him, like a man resigned, and gave a short nod, bracing himself for the uncertainty of what it would be like.

"See you in a few hours, yeah?" He gave her a crooked smile, genuine but just a bit strained. Imagining they were just parting ways for a bit before meeting back up to compare notes.

There was no point in stalling. By now, he was getting worse by the second. It was getting harder for him to breathe, harder not to shudder, harder to keep hold of some feeling of control over his own body. She understood. She'd been there. That was one of the times she hadn't died, actually, one of the close calls that her crack team of doctors and scientists (okay, doctor and scientist, singular) had averted. But either way, she understood how he was feeling, and didn't want him to feel like that much more than he had to.

So to his question, she nodded once, almost soldier-like. This was something she had to do, not wanted to do, and she hoped he knew the difference. "I'll bring drinks," was her only reply. And she met his gaze for a second, jaw setting, then lifted the muzzle of her pistol to the side of his head and fired off a shot.

Her eyes lifted to the sky again now, because this was honestly a lot harder than she thought it would be. Harder than it should have been, considering he'd be back in a few hours. I guess no matter how much you tell yourself it's not real, there's something about shooting an ally in the head that claws at your senseless emotions. It's why she hadn't let Erik do it, and why Stephen hadn't wanted her to, either.

And then there were the monsters to deal with. There was no chance they were going away, nor much of a chance that they'd magically stay dead this time around. And that was something Shepard was going to have to deal with. But not yet. The barrier would still hold for a little while. With luck, he'd disappear from here and show up at the Shrine before she had to fight her way out of this mess.

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ic ⌥ shepard & stephen [how it should have happened]

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so so so sorry for all of this tl;dr

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