Boogeymen

Shepard awoke with a gasp in the dark and reached for his nonexistent side arm. The darkness of the room caused an instant panic and he fumbled on the nightstand next to him, knocking off the clock, picture frame and glass there before touching the light to turn it on. His eyes darted around the room looking for monsters and when he found none, he closed them and cursed.

"Dammit." He tried to slow his heavy breathing and he rubbed his eyes to wake himself more. He swung his bare legs to the side of the bed and put his feet on the floor and realized he was dripping with sweat. "Dammit," he said again, standing to pace in his boxers. His heart was still beating fast and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to spring from the shadows to attack him.

He picked up the frame, which showed a picture of Ashley. He'd taken it one morning when she wasn't looking as she had her coffee looking out the window from Anderson's old apartment on the Citadel. Her hair was up in a messy ponytail and the light from the world outside played on the soft angles of her face. It was the only picture he had of her. He frowned as he sat back down on the bed and replaced the frame next to it. In this moment he both regretted not having her here, and he was glad she wasn't seeing him like this.

He hadn't hadn't slept much in the last week or so, and nearly every night some new nightmare plagued him in the darkness. He'd met with Dr. Helen Rainier three times already at Alliance H.Q. and they hadn't gotten far in his treatment.

He looked at the clock as he put it back on the nightstand. 0500. The sun would be coming up soon so he decided he'd rather get up than ever go back to sleep again. He headed for the shower, turned it on and stepped in.

His sessions with Dr. Rainier had been unsuccessful, at least in his mind. He'd been hesitant to open up, mainly discussing the missions, his friends' involvement in them and his plans for his future. He didn't have any. He didn't know what would become of him now, but he'd talked about getting back to work and his frustration of being put on mandatory medical leave. He had another session with her in a few hours, just enough time for him to get in a light workout. Light was the operative word. His physical therapist had given him exercises for his leg and stretches to help his scar tissue but warned against any physical stress. He was still sore and healing but the lack of exercise made him feel anxious and trapped.

He finished his shower, dressed, drank a big glass of water, and headed for the gym in the apartment complex. Almost no one would be there at this hour, and he was grateful for that. He wanted to run until exhaustion, until he could outrun his nightmares. And he wanted to do intense weight lifting to push the weight of everything he'd experienced off of his chest. He settled for the punching bag, hoping it would relieve some of his anxiety. Twenty minutes and hundreds of hits later it hadn't done much but take his breath away and make his body scream for a rest.

Later that morning as he sat down in Rainier's office, he sighed and braced himself for her probing questions.

"Have you been sleeping better with the medication?" She smiled at him, and Shepard thought she couldn't be more than forty. She was pretty with red hair and sympathetic green eyes. She reminded him a little of Kelly Chambers, a fact that was not lost on him in his reluctance to share information with her.

"I haven't been taking it," he answered. "It makes me groggy."

"Have you been able to sleep without it?"

"Not really."

She nodded. "You mentioned that you'd been having nightmares."

He looked around the room, out the window, at the artwork that hung above her head and then back to her face, stalling his answer.

"Yeah."

"Would you like to tell me about them?"

"No."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "I don't remember them. When I wake up I can't remember them, just that they happened and I wake suddenly feeling…"

"How do you feel?"

He looked her in the eyes and then sighed. He wasn't sure what it was, but he was tired of putting up the wall today.

"Terrified." He swallowed and looked away from her. "I feel terrified like I'm under attack, like everyone I know is gone, like everyone I care about is dead or dying and I couldn't save them."

She seemed to think for a moment before speaking again.

"Tell me about the people you care about. Your crew. They made it out alive is that right?"

He shook his head. "Not all of them. We had an AI on board. Her name was EDI. She died because of the choices I made."

Rainier shrugged. "But many over the years have died because of choices you made. That's part of your job isn't it? You command. Soldiers fight. Soldiers die."

He knew she felt like she had to be blunt with him, and she was probably right. She seemed aware that he wouldn't respond well to her psychobabble. It was nice to hear her talk straight to him.

"I know," he looked down. "I know that. I don't regret the decisions I've made. Not really. I'm just...tired of making them. I'm just tired."

"It must be hard to suddenly be alone."

His stomach turned. She had nailed it when he wasn't expecting it. "Yes," he admitted. "Everyone is gone, off to do their own thing and live their own lives and… I miss them already."

"It's a big adjustment."

"Yeah. And so is this. Me sitting here. It's like I don't know what to do with myself when I'm not fighting a war."

"You haven't always been at war, John."

He shook his head and tried to think of a time when he wasn't. "Feels that way."

"Do you want to go back to work?"

"Yes," he answered quickly. "And no."

"Well you don't have to decide right now. Your job now is to get well."

He stood with some effort and walked to the window. "I feel like I should be doing something else. Everyone is working to rebuild and I'm just...selfish." He thought of what Ashley had said.

Dr. Rainier sighed behind him. "Taking care of yourself isn't selfish. Taking the time to prioritize your health and well-being will be more helpful to everyone in the end. The sooner you allow yourself to feel what you're feeling and take some time, the sooner you can get back to making a difference if that's what's important to you."

He looked at her again and sat back down on the couch. "It is important to me. What I did...what I've done…" He searched for the words. "I should be dead. I should have died. That seems like the appropriate end to the story. And here I am still hanging around, worried that I may have outlived my usefulness." He thought it sounded pathetic. He was no martyr, but perhaps he should have been.

"Speaking of death - "

"No." He interrupted her with a stern voice. "I don't want to talk about that." There was no way he was going into what happened with the Collectors. The very thought of what had happened to him and what Cerberus had done to him caused his fist to clench in his lap.

After a long silence, Rainier nodded and leaned forward. "John, do you feel like you might be a danger to yourself? That you might harm yourself?"

"What? No!" He was angry that she would even ask. "I'm not suicidal, doctor. I can promise you that."

She sat back. "It's my job to ask."

"I know. I'm sorry." He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache. "Look maybe we can stop for today?"

She shrugged. "If you want. I'll see you tomorrow?"

He stood and headed for the door. "I guess I don't really have a choice do I?" He walked out, letting the door hiss shut behind him.

Ashley would have thought spending this week with her whole family would be the best week of her life. And it was, except for her tendency to jump at any loud noise or unwelcome shadow. She'd been sleeping well enough, but had to admit to herself that she'd probably be haunted by what she'd seen for a long time, maybe forever.

Everyone had ghosts now. Even Maddy.

She watched as her niece ran through the backyard, a stream of bubbles popping up behind her as she giggled. She seemed to be doing well. Ashley was grateful for that. The grown ups were a little more worn around the edges.

She'd asked for some additional time off. Her first instinct was to ask Hackett and the Council how she could help, but they were all busy coming up with the next strategy for rebuilding, and Ashley didn't know how to rebuild an entire galaxy. That wasn't her job. Her job was to help protect it. Both Hackett and the Council had told her they would send her regular reports. She had requested that they hold of sending any to Shepard while he recovered. The time off would be good for her, time to process, think about things. She just wished she was spending it with him.

She was still angry with Shepard for wanting to be alone. She understood, but she was still hurt. It seemed that their entire relationship had a running theme of him being away from her, and she was so desperately sick of it. They hadn't actually talked in a few days. She knew they were mutually avoiding each other, avoiding any real conversation over vid chats. She'd sent an email with an update about her family, and he'd responded with very little information in return other than he didn't like counseling and that he hoped everyone was doing okay. They would need to talk soon, but she couldn't bring herself to reach out just yet. She always seemed to be the one reaching out and she was trying not to become resentful of it.

"You're making a face like you smelled a fart." Lynn walked up behind Ashley and pinched her butt.

"Ah! Knock it off, jerk." They both laughed. Lynn stood next to her watching Maddy.

"I noticed you haven't taken your eyes off of of her since you got here." Lynn nudged her. "You know she's safe now, right?"

Ashley rolled her eyes. "I know that. It's not that it's just nice to see her so happy."

"Well it helps that super brave Aunt Ash helped slay the big bad boogeyman."

She smiled at her sister. She was as tall as Ashley with more fragile looking features. Lynn was thin without much muscle and had always been more of a bookworm than any of them.

"I hear San Diego is mostly back up and running," Lynn continued.

"Yeah. Power and water is back, some rubble has been cleared and the air quality seems to be better." She shrugged. "Of course it'll take a few months at least to clear out the Reaper wreckage."

Lynn shuddered. "Ugh. Don't say the word Reaper. It gives me nightmares."

"Sorry."

"So what about the rest of the world? I know you've been monitoring reports."

Ashley nodded. "News is better in some places than others. London was the worst I think. I'm not sure it will ever fully recover."

"What about all your buddies?"

Ashley thought of the crew. "I haven't spoken to most of them. I think everyone wants to put it all behind them. I don't blame them." She smiled. "I did get updates from Garrus and Tali though. They're both slowly making their way back to their homes. Funny how long space travel takes without the relays."

"Do you think they'll fix them?"

"They'll have to if we ever want to reach any human colonies again."

"What about your friend Liara?"

Ash smiled again and shook her head. "She's doing what she does best." Ashley knew she couldn't go into it as most of the information was classified, but she knew Liara was working with everyone she still had contact with to gather intel. She was rebuilding her Shadowbroker empire even though she claimed it was simply to help. Ashley knew better. Liara had found her calling.

"Okay who wants soup?" Ash turned to find Abby holding two large cans of soup in her hands. They hadn't had power in awhile so there was no perishable food in the house and it wasn't as if they could just run to the store at the moment. "Or we have beans."

"Let's just order a pizza," Ash deadpanned before heading inside to help Abby. What she wouldn't give for a good slice right about now.

Shepard woke again with a yell and looked down to his torso, desperately touching it to make sure it was there. Satisfied that he was intact, he dropped his head back to the pillow and closed his eyes. A moment ago he had been flayed open with his organs exposed, with nothing but robotic implants stitching him together. He thought of it, and realized he was going to vomit.

He headed for the bathroom, flipped up the toilet seat, and threw up. When he was finished he flushed, rinsed his mouth, and sat on the cold bathroom floor with his back against the wall. He tried not to think about all his body had been through, everything it had suffered over the years from Akuze, the Collectors, the Reapers.

Was it even really his body? He'd had that thought before after Miranda and Cerberus had brought him back. He'd wondered if he'd really just been some sort of lab creation. Miranda had assured him he wasn't, but his thoughts turned to the man who had been his clone and the fate he had suffered.

No. He shook his head. He didn't want to go down that rabbit hole. He didn't want to think about it. He felt like he wanted to rip his skin off. He had to get out of there.

He stood, brushed his teeth, showered, dressed, and packed his bag, carefully placing the small picture frame at the top.

And then he left, not entirely sure where he was going.