retrace | 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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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.

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

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