Saga Yea, Though I Walk [Mass Effect 2/SW Crossover] (Complete)

Hmm - let me see if I can give a quick run-down

The Reapers are out to control people, and they do it by two ways:
1. Sticking corpses on pikes and turning them into these cybernetic-zombies called Husks
2. A form of mind control, called Indoctrination.

Husks popped up earlier in this story, I'm sure they'll be 'round again ^0^

I'm glad you're having fun reading!! I'm actually about to settle down and wrap this up - then it's on to its sequel, which happens between ME2 and ME3. And just because Vader's dead, well, don't expect him to leave the story...

 

"What I'm trying to say is... damn."

Shepard's head dropped as she ran a hand through her damp hair. It was still thirty more minutes until Garrus was to come over for dinner. She had managed to sweet-talk Chakwas into letting her back into her cabins; she had even managed to awkwardly wiggle into the little black dress Kasumi made sure was in her closet. The effect was rather spoiled by the full leg brace, but she was still trying.

Now if only she could enjoy herself.

She let out a long sigh before raising her head again, speaking at the fish tank, as if the fish were a suitable substitute audience. "Damn, damn, damn." The words just weren't coming, and it was driving her mildly insane.

She had to say something, but she didn't know what.

It had been easy, as easy as dirges ever get, to find something suitable for Ash. But Vader had left her scurrying through extranet archives for all of the poems she half-remembered as being famous.

I am Ozymandias, King of Kings; look on my works, ye mighty...

And if that wasn't complicated enough, she also had to remember her real audience. Not Vader, but the boy. How was she going to find something that quieted both souls at once? Especially when both of them were such strangers?

I grow old... I grow old. ...Do I dare to eat a peach? ...I have seen the mermaids singing, each to each.

But she couldn't let him down - she couldn't let them down. She was Shepard, after all. Wasn't her business the impossible?

...and then Turnus's limbs grew slack with death, and his life fled, with a moan, angrily, to the Shades.

She groaned, tossing the datapad back onto the bed and pinching at her nose. If only she had the Consort's way with words! But even if Shepard's business was the impossible, some things were just too impossible. She took a deep breath, raising her head again. There would be no help from any dead poets. There would just be her, and the boy, and Vader (wherever he was, she supposed). A script was useless, but she had to try anyway.

"What I'm trying to say is..." She took another deep breath. "Your father is dead. And I'm pretty sure that he died for you. Maybe in - maybe in his own way. I don't claim to understand the man. I don't think anyone does. I don't think he understood himself, which is why this is so tricky, so bear with me, all right? But I think... I think some people just get so caught up in fighting - they don't know how to... how to have normal lives anymore. They just keep fighting, because that's all they know how to do. So they don't know how to - well, how to love somebody. They just know how to fight and keep fighting, and -"

She glanced up and caught her own murky reflection in the glass of the aquarium.

Immediately a numb despair washed over her.

Was this what Vader meant to finally taunt her with? He had always been gleeful about how similar they were, both of them built to serve new masters... both of them leaders, both of them warriors...

"Damn it, damn it - goddammit -"

She had always said she was fundamentally different, but what evidence did she have to show? All Shepard remembered doing was fighting: training, more training, missions following missions, battle after battle.

Maybe all she knew how to do was fight.

Maybe he was right all along.

So was this elegy for him, or for her?

The door chimed, and she jumped, immediately giving a squeaky curse and wiping frantically at her eyes. Garrus had to be early. "Coming - coming!" She limped up even as the turian let himself in, putting on her usual cheerful smile and hoping he didn't notice the bit of redness in her eyes or the occasional sniffle. "Hey, you're a bit early, aren't you?" Her teasing fell flat, her voice still shaking.

Garrus frowned. "Shepard, what's wrong?"

"Nothing! Nothing - I'm fine." She wiped at her face again and gave a worn laugh. "It'll be awhile until the food gets up, but, um -"

"Shepard." He took a step forward, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You know I'm not going to think any less of you. What's wrong?"

It took her a moment to realize that both of them were going into this with their guards down. Something finally sunk in about how she didn't have to be the Commander, the Normandy's immovable center, the calm voice of sage wisdom who shed an appropriate amount of tears at Ashley's funeral service but not any more so that nobody could accuse her of weakness. She didn't have to be the perfection of humanity, mankind's first Spectre, servant of the Council. She just had to be Shepard, the same way he just had to be Garrus.
So her lip trembled and after a long moment she started crying: heavy, ugly sobbing that had been years in coming. She let all of the anxious worries flow out of her and he did the same, finding strength in one another, fighting loneliness and doubt.

And they showed each other they could do more than just fight.



Shepard was aware that the sedatives were scheduled to taper off at exactly 0800 hours the next morning, but when Garrus sheepishly shuffled off to his own quarters as to skip the morning walk of victory and/or shame, sleeping became increasingly impossible. So she slipped her uniform back on and limped down to the med bay.

It was quiet, most of the crew still resting. Only a skeleton crew were awake, with everyone's day-night cycles having been roughly synchronized so that everyone would be awake for the final mission. Chakwas was certainly in bed, and likely even Legion was doing the closest thing geth could manage to sleep. Shepard, meanwhile, pulled herself up on one of the empty beds in the med bay with a grunt.

"Hey, kid." She smiled and reached over to brush a bit of the young man's hair out of his face. "I figured if I was doing the whole dress rehearsal bit trying to figure out what to say to you, I might as well do it right, y'know?" She considered him for a moment, tilting her head. "I think Chakwas is right. You do seem... happier when someone's talking to you. Even though you're supposed to be out like a light. If you inherited half your dad's talent at being a strange bastard, I can't doubt it." She shifted in the seat, giving a sigh as she stretched her injured leg up.

"Not like I mind talking. ...I don't want you waking up the same way I did. Miranda's... she's all right, and a damn good fighter. But that first time, not knowing where I was or who the hell she was or what was going on, I could have really used her looking me in the eye and telling me I'd be all right instead of just snapping at me. Sometimes I think she still considers me... ah, what'd Jacob say? 'Meat and tubes'. Yeah, it's a real pretty picture, I'm sure. Glad I wasn't awake to see it, I guess."

She gave another long sigh. "Damn. Sorry, kid. I'm rambling. Good thing you seem happy to listen."

Shepard reached out again, tucking a bit of his light brown hair behind his ear. "Wonder what your name is. You'll be up soon enough to tell us, I guess. Maybe by then I'll figure out what to say to you." She let out a long sigh.

"I'm not going to pretend your father was a good person, or that I was best pals with him. But as soon as he joined us, I became his Commander, you know? I don't get out of being responsible for him, in some way, just like I don't get out of being responsible for you." For a brief moment Shepard thought she saw the beginnings of a smile on the young man's face, but it was gone as soon as she thought it was there. "Hell, I'm not even sure Vader was his real name... but that's not the important part. The important thing is..." She took a deep breath to stop her voice from trembling, and began again.

"The important thing is that he fought his way through hell to make sure you were safe. Now - this is just conjecture - but I'm guessing he wasn't exactly Dad of the Year material. At least, I can't imagine him playing catch in the back yard with you and cheering from the sidelines at your grade school hockey games or something. He was just... He was just so used to fighting, that's all he knew how to do." She paused a moment, tone hushed as if she was realizing this as she was saying it. "Maybe that's why he didn't jump, at the end. He knew all he'd do was fight with you instead of - I dunno, instead of being a parent for you."

Shepard tapped her fingers against the hard plastic, looking away from the young man out of the nearby window to the mess hall and common area of the crew deck. "Yeah, that... it almost makes sense. Vader was proud as hell. I can see him dying rather than admit he'd be really goddamn terrible at something, if not, y'know, actually counterproductive. So instead I get to take care of you." She laughed, shaking her head. "All right, now it definitely sounds like something he'd do: keep his pride andtotally aggravate me..."

The sound of a small sniff made her flinch, and she looked back, wide-eyed, to where the young man was. The haptic screens around him were noting increased activity - something that wasn't supposed to happen for several hours. Instead of being frightened or wary, Shepard found herself smiling as she watched his expression shift. His eyebrows knit as if unconsciousness was a solid block he was having to push out of the way, but as his breaths grew less regular and deeper, he tossed his head. His eyelids fluttered barely open, blue eyes watering, and his lips pursed as if at the start of a question.

And Shepard reached out to gently pat at his upper arm, a physical and tangible reminder of her presence, before she started speaking.

"Welcome to the Normandy, kid."

 

Phew!

Okay, this one done - it will be shortly continued in another fic.

Brownie points for whoever notes the poems that are in the first bit, as well. First two are relatively easy, third is hard.

 

A question struck me as I read the last chapter...does Luke KNOW that Vader is/was his father? Is Shepherd's calling him his father and even Dad throwing him for a loop?

Interesting. It will be interesting when you begin the sequel and I'm assuming Luke will be able to communicate.

I had no idea on the poems...the first one sounded vaguely familiar, but couldn't think of it.

Good story...I'm looking forward to the sequel.

 

?Hitting the Collectors like the lovechild of an industrial mincer and a glowstick, leaving nothing but itty bitty pieces in his wake. At least, that's what I'm guessing.?

What an awesome line. Yet again your writing has made me literally laugh out loud. I have very much enjoyed this cross over, the possibilities for it are endless and exciting. Your Mordin scene was as true to character as if Bioware themselves had been writing it, i really must congratulate you on how well you capture the characters from the game.

Very nice fanfic, well done =)

 

*wee spot behind*

I can't say I really understand the background story to this story, but I really loved the characters and the sharp little one liners in this. If you continue, I'm probably going to need a bit more assistance keeping up though. Perhaps a trip to the ME2 wiki is in order... But even if I don't totally understand what's going on, I still love your writing.

 

Oh, two of favourite universes together!

Well done!