New Beginnings

Will The Old Shepard be Missed ?

It was ridiculous. A tall building, fully made up of fallen ships and reaper debris, a monument and a reminder of how close we had been to being obliterated into darkness. They walked me out of the sky car, surrounded by krogan bodyguards and asari commandoes, I felt like a child, small and defenseless. It was ridiculous: I was Commander Shepard. I didn't need an entourage to walk a set of stairs. They separated me from Garrus, damn it, and his was the only hand I needed clutching my arm at the moment. I stopped, then sprinted upstairs towards the foyer, followed by a bunch of incredulous escorts and reporter drones.

I looked up, before entering the revolving doors: looked up at the sky. You could still see debris floating about in space, shining. I wondered where the citadel was. Last thing I remembered, it was right on top of earth, wasn't it? or close enough so we could see it. It was still a little blurry, but I knew it had been around, hadn't it? It should've been visible from down there. Garrus held my hand tight, nuzzled my neck. The drones caught up with me too. It was time to go and see what the deal was with that Council nonsense. They had to be kidding.

"Commander Shepard," The asari councilor greeted me with a smile, kind of. She wasn't, ever, particularly cheery. Some things never changed. 

The turian councilor greeted Garrus like an old friend, they'd seen a lot of each other lately, by the looks of it. He, surprisingly, did look happy to see me. The salarian looked the most different of the three: for starters, he was a completely different person. A woman.  I wasn't expecting that, I hadn't been gone that long, had I? How old had the old councilor been? I had a flashback of Mordin, the both of us, sitting in my cabin, drinking a hot asari frutal infusion. He was singing to me, Gilbert and Sullivan again, I remembered, he seemed to like them a lot, was it a salarian thing? Like the elcor and Shakespeare? He sang an adaptation of The Mikado:

He's got 'em on the list - he's got 'em on the list
And they'll none of 'em be missed - they'll none of 'em be missed

There's the preaching hanar, and the others of his kind
And the drell-therapist - I've got him on the list!
And the people who drink ryncol and belch it in your face
They never would be missed - they never would be missed!
Then the idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone
All galaxies but this, and every planet but his own
And the lady from the colonies, who dances like a geth
And who "doesn't think she parties, but would rather like to try"
And that singular anomaly, the asari novelist
I don't think she'd be missed - I'm sure she'd not be missed!

I found myself laughing, alone, in a room full of people thinking I was, indeed, as crazy as whoever said I was unfit for duty said I was. Damn. Garrus touched my arm, reassuringly. I knew what he meant, I could see it in his eyes: he had my back, as always. He was there for me.

The salarian, who was not the same salarian, introduced herself, awkwardly. She was the new councilor, the old councilor had died of an airborne respiratory infection, soon after the war ended. Huh. Funny, how sometimes it's the little things, mundane things, that get us in the end. I nodded, gave her my condolences.

I explained to them, shortly, although I knew they'd already been briefed, about my situation. The flashbacks, the amnesia. No, I still didn't know if I could shoot my gun. No, I wouldn't mind going through yet another physical examination. Other than that, I was feeling like myself, mostly. More than when I woke up, at least. Looking at them, staring at me, examining me, I couldn't help but look inside my self a little bit as well. What were they seeing? What would I do in their place? They wanted Commander Shepard, the woman who made peace between turians and krogan, the outstanding soldier and diplomat. Somewhere, deep inside my mind? that woman still lived there, I was sure of it. But if I had to be honest with myself? If I looked at myself through their eyes, clinically like a salarian, stoically like a turian, wisely like an asari, hell, I couldn't deny the truth: I wasn't that woman anymore. I wasn't there yet. I was scattered. If me, right now, with this broken mind, had to go back and make all those decisions all over again... I'm not sure I'd be able to get them right.

The implications terrified me. I clenched my teeth. Maybe the member of my team who "ratted me out" had been right, after all. I felt like an imposter.