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ic ⌥ shepard [lead-up to tunnels, part 2]
Mid-evening finds Shepard storming through the door to her dorm, shutting it roughly behind her. It's dark, both in this room and Wesley's adjacent one. Sheva hasn't come back yet. Whether that's 'back to the dorm' or 'back from dead', at this point, Shepard's too numb to care. She just... god, she just wants to sleep.
Instead, unclasping her armor and letting it fall where she stands, she sinks heavily to the floor nearby. It's harsh but cool against her back, grounding her into reality, into this moment right here on the floor of her dorm rather than all of the tens and hundreds and thousands of moments that have passed since she first set foot on this hellhole of an island. And she just closes her eyes and breathes. Deep breaths, or as deep as they'll come--she's reached that point of tension where her lungs are like taut springs, taking in a little air and then forcing it right back out. She should've locked the door. Locked the door and slid her desk chair under the handle, but all of this is in retrospect and she's really not so great with the concept of moving right now.
That is, until she hears the voice.
'Are you okay?'
Her eyes jerk open, scanning the room for the source while one hand scrambles for the pistol still locked into the thigh of her armor, but that doesn't get too terribly far before her eyes fall on the small figure just outside of the sliding-glass balcony door. Transfixed, she's peeling herself up off of the floor now, at least onto her knees, but the figure doesn't move. Doesn't disappear.
"Emery?" She tries to ask, but she hasn't inhaled since she spotted the girl, so it comes out as a choked sort of whisper.
Her sister grins, both hands lifting to smooth down her hair in slightly self-conscious excitement. 'I knew I'd find you. They didn't believe me.' Shepard's still a little too dumbstruck to answer--the girl looks exactly like she did when she died, nine years old and unquestionably the most beautiful child Shepard's ever seen (though that may be biased)--and Emery seems to realize this, her grin fading slightly. 'Are you okay?' she echoes, and that's enough to jar Shepard out of the shock at seeing her. In a second, she's on her feet and heading over to open the door.
'Don't!' Shepard freezes with her hand on the handle. 'Don't open that, okay? I can't come in.' And at this point, Shepard doesn't question it. She takes a step back, staring again, always the staring. She can't help it. This is just-... It's too-... It's impossible. More than anything before, this right here, her sister standing just on the other side of a pane of glass, this is impossible. And she feels like if she looks away, even for a second, Emery will be gone.
The girl, meanwhile, is starting to side-eye her. Starting to look a little uncertain. 'Nolie, please talk to me. Please?' Her hand lifts to press against the door, fogging the glass around it.
'Nolie'. Nicole. Something about this jars Shepard back into coherency. She swallows hard and drops back down to her knees, and after a second, her own hand presses against the glass palm-to-palm with her sister's. She can feel the warmth through the glass. God, she can feel it.
"I'm right here, Em," she offers, and the girl cracks a grin again, which drags out a grin and half-laugh of her own in a fractured sort of exhilaration.
'Your face,' Emery's asking, her free hand lifting to touch her own cheek as if to feel if she had scars to match. 'Did someone hurt you?'
Shepard chuckles dryly, shaking her head a little. "I'm a Spectre now, and N7. Would you believe it?" This brings a look akin to wonder across her sister's face, wonder and a childlike sort of pride, and something about that means more to her than the rest of the galaxy's awe combined. The few times she's let herself think about family, she's wondered what they would've thought of who she'd become.
Emery's leaning closer now, her face almost pressed to the glass. 'What happened to your eyes?'
Her eyes. They were blue when Em last saw them, not the brown Cerberus had given her to better mask the cybernetic red. But how do you explain that to a child?
You don't. You lie. "I had them changed, that's all." Her voice is about as nonchalant as it can get, talking to a girl who's been dead for sixteen years. "It's all kinds of popular, in the future." And while 'popular' really isn't something she gives a fuck about as a general rule, it's enough to fool Emery, or at least to drop the topic.
'They told me I wouldn't find you,' the girl repeats, looking a little sad and a little forlorn. "Or if I did, you'd be different."
"They?" She can't help but ask, this time around, even though the sinking in her gut tells her she knows the answer.
'Mom, Dad, Coltan,' she lists. Her parents. Her brother. But she doesn't have time to think about what this means, because now Emery's looking just short of horrified. 'You're bleeding!' And Shepard's all too aware of the dried blood on her face and neck--that goddamn clown's. She opens her mouth to reassure Emery, but which is worse? To have the girl think it's her blood or know it's not?
Unfortunately, she doesn't get to make that choice. Emery's young, but she's not stupid. Her hand's jerking away from the glass now, and she's backing off a couple of steps. 'It's not yours, is it?' Shepard's at a loss for what to say, her hand still pressed to the glass where Emery's had been. 'Who are you?'
"Emery, it's me," she insists, her other hand lifting to the door now too.
'It's not!' Emery's shouting now. 'She'd never hurt anyone. She'd save everyone!'
"That's not--"
'What did you do with her!?'
"It's me!" She repeats, almost desperately this time, utterly blindsided by the twist in this conversation and at loss for what else she could possibly say.
'No.' Emery's voice is calmer now, but no less fervent. 'You might look like her, you might sound like her, and you might even think you're her, but you're not my sister.' Shepard's mouth is still open to argue, but words have long since failed her. And she watches as her sister's face cracks, her resolve crumbles, and she looks at Shepard with desperately heartbroken eyes. And in the most miserable of voices, she asks, 'She's dead, isn't she?'
And thus breaks Commander Shepard.
Instead, unclasping her armor and letting it fall where she stands, she sinks heavily to the floor nearby. It's harsh but cool against her back, grounding her into reality, into this moment right here on the floor of her dorm rather than all of the tens and hundreds and thousands of moments that have passed since she first set foot on this hellhole of an island. And she just closes her eyes and breathes. Deep breaths, or as deep as they'll come--she's reached that point of tension where her lungs are like taut springs, taking in a little air and then forcing it right back out. She should've locked the door. Locked the door and slid her desk chair under the handle, but all of this is in retrospect and she's really not so great with the concept of moving right now.
That is, until she hears the voice.
'Are you okay?'
Her eyes jerk open, scanning the room for the source while one hand scrambles for the pistol still locked into the thigh of her armor, but that doesn't get too terribly far before her eyes fall on the small figure just outside of the sliding-glass balcony door. Transfixed, she's peeling herself up off of the floor now, at least onto her knees, but the figure doesn't move. Doesn't disappear.
"Emery?" She tries to ask, but she hasn't inhaled since she spotted the girl, so it comes out as a choked sort of whisper.
Her sister grins, both hands lifting to smooth down her hair in slightly self-conscious excitement. 'I knew I'd find you. They didn't believe me.' Shepard's still a little too dumbstruck to answer--the girl looks exactly like she did when she died, nine years old and unquestionably the most beautiful child Shepard's ever seen (though that may be biased)--and Emery seems to realize this, her grin fading slightly. 'Are you okay?' she echoes, and that's enough to jar Shepard out of the shock at seeing her. In a second, she's on her feet and heading over to open the door.
'Don't!' Shepard freezes with her hand on the handle. 'Don't open that, okay? I can't come in.' And at this point, Shepard doesn't question it. She takes a step back, staring again, always the staring. She can't help it. This is just-... It's too-... It's impossible. More than anything before, this right here, her sister standing just on the other side of a pane of glass, this is impossible. And she feels like if she looks away, even for a second, Emery will be gone.
The girl, meanwhile, is starting to side-eye her. Starting to look a little uncertain. 'Nolie, please talk to me. Please?' Her hand lifts to press against the door, fogging the glass around it.
'Nolie'. Nicole. Something about this jars Shepard back into coherency. She swallows hard and drops back down to her knees, and after a second, her own hand presses against the glass palm-to-palm with her sister's. She can feel the warmth through the glass. God, she can feel it.
"I'm right here, Em," she offers, and the girl cracks a grin again, which drags out a grin and half-laugh of her own in a fractured sort of exhilaration.
'Your face,' Emery's asking, her free hand lifting to touch her own cheek as if to feel if she had scars to match. 'Did someone hurt you?'
Shepard chuckles dryly, shaking her head a little. "I'm a Spectre now, and N7. Would you believe it?" This brings a look akin to wonder across her sister's face, wonder and a childlike sort of pride, and something about that means more to her than the rest of the galaxy's awe combined. The few times she's let herself think about family, she's wondered what they would've thought of who she'd become.
Emery's leaning closer now, her face almost pressed to the glass. 'What happened to your eyes?'
Her eyes. They were blue when Em last saw them, not the brown Cerberus had given her to better mask the cybernetic red. But how do you explain that to a child?
You don't. You lie. "I had them changed, that's all." Her voice is about as nonchalant as it can get, talking to a girl who's been dead for sixteen years. "It's all kinds of popular, in the future." And while 'popular' really isn't something she gives a fuck about as a general rule, it's enough to fool Emery, or at least to drop the topic.
'They told me I wouldn't find you,' the girl repeats, looking a little sad and a little forlorn. "Or if I did, you'd be different."
"They?" She can't help but ask, this time around, even though the sinking in her gut tells her she knows the answer.
'Mom, Dad, Coltan,' she lists. Her parents. Her brother. But she doesn't have time to think about what this means, because now Emery's looking just short of horrified. 'You're bleeding!' And Shepard's all too aware of the dried blood on her face and neck--that goddamn clown's. She opens her mouth to reassure Emery, but which is worse? To have the girl think it's her blood or know it's not?
Unfortunately, she doesn't get to make that choice. Emery's young, but she's not stupid. Her hand's jerking away from the glass now, and she's backing off a couple of steps. 'It's not yours, is it?' Shepard's at a loss for what to say, her hand still pressed to the glass where Emery's had been. 'Who are you?'
"Emery, it's me," she insists, her other hand lifting to the door now too.
'It's not!' Emery's shouting now. 'She'd never hurt anyone. She'd save everyone!'
"That's not--"
'What did you do with her!?'
"It's me!" She repeats, almost desperately this time, utterly blindsided by the twist in this conversation and at loss for what else she could possibly say.
'No.' Emery's voice is calmer now, but no less fervent. 'You might look like her, you might sound like her, and you might even think you're her, but you're not my sister.' Shepard's mouth is still open to argue, but words have long since failed her. And she watches as her sister's face cracks, her resolve crumbles, and she looks at Shepard with desperately heartbroken eyes. And in the most miserable of voices, she asks, 'She's dead, isn't she?'
And thus breaks Commander Shepard.