#rip edi and the geth but the synthesis ending sounds too good to be true

[pillarofawesome]

"Does it hurt to get shot?"

Shepard must not have been asleep if that question was heard so easily. Eyes snapped open, head turned to the source of the query, and standing right next to the sun lounger was a small asari girl.

Couldn't have been older than... well, hard to tell with asari. Kid could be thirty Earth-years old for all Shepard knew. Still definitely a kid, though. A pair of eyes, one blue and one green, stared intently over a datapad clutched to her chest, a mixture of nervous regret for intruding and anticipation of an answer to her question in her gaze. Her dress had a floral pattern with African colors, a common fashion here in Rio de Janeiro. A few decades ago, it would have looked out of place on an asari. But with the relays down, the Milky Way was now a constellation of suspended melting pots. This girl was undoubtedly born and raised here. These were not "tourist clothes" for an "alien" girl making a novel visit to an alliance planet. These were just clothes, and she was home. Not a human, but undeniably an earthling now. Hell, she was even speaking English, although many asari were known to study multiple languages. They certainly had the time.

"What?" No sooner did Shepard ask that than immediately register the question. Now it had to be asked again. Shepard hated when that happened.

"Does it hurt to get shot?" The asari maiden repeated, quieter this time, face lowering to hide behind the datapad. She feared she was really being a bother, now.

Shepard was surprised to not mind the question. It would be a ridiculous question in days long past, but this was a new time with a new generation. This little girl didn't know and was genuinely curious. Shepard could recall having nothing but dumb questions to look forward to for a long time after being found and resuscitated ages ago. The most famous human in the galaxy- maybe the most famous person- was still alive. Shepard feared never hearing the end of it. What's that old saying? 'No rest for the wicked'? That was the second best adage describing Shepard's life following the Reapers behind 'it was the best of times, it was the worst of times'.

The war was actually over. No more action; just talking now. So much talking there was barely time to breathe or think. Options of what to answer or reply metaphorically floating in front of Shepard's face on a wheel, with every stupid answer to every stupid question feeling wrong. Statement this, report that, interview over there- with another Arabic-named journalist, ironically enough. There had been acceptance speeches, and many promotions offered (though Shepard only accepted one), followed by speaking tours. Then there were regular meetings with a biographer at some point. All of this was given only a brief reprieve by a stressful tenure as the commandant of the N-school at Vila Militar. After all of that, Shepard was now truly retired; finally too old and broken to even fly a desk these days.

"I-it's just that I thought I saw your face before," the girl continued. Shepard would kick Shepard's own head right now if it were possible. Shepard was lost in thought for so long that the unanswered kid was now feeling awkward. "So I looked you up," she said holding out and pointing at the datapad. "The internet said you fought in the war? I'm sorry!" She started to back up and turn away now. Come on, Shep, say something! You're embarrassing the poor little sweetheart.

"No no! It's okay," Shepard consoled with a raised palm. Straining a humbling amount, the old body augments feeling like dead weight these days, Shepard pulled up to a reclined posture, turned sideways, and set both feet on the ground to face the youngling properly. "I did fight in the war." For that to not be rhetorical, the girl must truly not be talking to the Captain Shepard, but merely an elder; an old veteran who witnessed the mythical conflict before her time that rescued her parents, making her very life possible. The near-anonymity Shepard had to this innocent child was a breath of fresh air.

She gestured with the datapad again. "It says here you were injured in combat?" Shepard cracked a grin at that, barely managing to catch an all out guffaw. 'Injured?' Is that all it said? The internet- the extranet lost its connection to all servers on other planets- was understating it just a little bit. "Yeah," Shepard replied, "you could say that."

The girl's lips pouted and her cheeks darkened a deeper shade of blue at that answer. She was sick of older people giving vague answers with knowing smirks. Everyone seemed to know something big abut the past that was flying over her head, and they weren't cluing her in. They were grinning at a naive little girl who didn't know any better, and here she was trying to learn; trying to understand. She wanted to show some attitude, but she bit her tongue, afraid she was already being rude to a stranger.

"And yes, it hurts to get shot." The girl's eyes snapped back to Shepard's at that. "The bullets themselves were atomically small, but they were projected with mass effect fields that carried a whirlwind of energy. Sometimes some other effects, too. When they pierced the skin, the bullet didn't do anything. The bolt of energy following it would go through and spread out." Shepard gestured with points of fingers and waves of hands between sentences. The asari was listening intently, and visibly trying to understand. Shepard remembered she was young, and opted to illustrate with an analogy. "It's like if a strike from a sledgehammer was contained in a needle, and injected straight into your body." After saying all of that, Shepard wondered if that imagery worked, or just sounded stupid. The "woah" from the wide-eyed youngster seemed to imply the former. Guns were actually the least terrifying weapon Shepard faced, but enough gory detail was being shared for now.

"You're lucky to be alive," she said after digesting everything. Shepard had to pause at that. It was hard to see it that way sometimes, but she was right. Shepard had suffered through so much, seen so much, lost so much, wondered so much. Why did so many have to die? Did so many have to die? What if I made different decisions? Would the ending have been the same no matter what I did, or did my choices matter? Where did the Normandy go? Did my crew survive? Where is the love of my two lives?

All the hustle and bustle following the war kept Shepard busy, putting off dwelling on it. Retirement had brought it all up at once, leaving Shepard in a dissociative state most days. But right here, right now, she was right.

"I'm glad you fought for us," she continued with a smile. "I'm glad you're not dead."

And with that, Shepard's dwellings could take a break for now. The earnest, raw, simple fact stated by this girl broke through all the what-ifs. Her mere existence was proof that despite the great cost, the war was won. Annihilation and extinction were at stake, but here we all were; battered, bruised, scarred, and scattered, but still alive. This beautiful, intuitive, emotionally-intelligent child was telling her elder it was all worth it, and she was right. It hurt to get shot, yes. And it hurt more to face all the other wounds from the war; physical and otherwise. But here sat Shepard victorious, having survived it all. And looking into Shepard's face was a generation who would never have to face such pain, living in a world that was healing from it.

"Thank you," Shepard finally responded, unable to catch the slight voice-crack. The asari girl smiled even brighter at that. She opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a call from afar.

"Atalanta! Sweetie, time to go!" The parent was a silhouette standing in front of the setting sun. The shape looked human. They must be the father.

"Bye-bye!" said the earthling, using Earth lingo that again betrayed how local she was. Shepard echoed the farewell and waved as she ran off. Lying back down, Shepard allowed the broken warrior a rest, and finally caught a carefree nap. Shepard would go back to mourning later.