Chapter Text
Spring 0, Year 1- 09:10
Commander Amber Shepard woke slowly as sounds of birdsong hit her ears. Her eyes opened once, twice, before opening for good. As soon as she comprehended the bright blue sky in front of her eyes, the sound of trees swaying in the breeze, birds chirping, and the gentle way the sunshine warmed her body, she jolted up to a seated position. Almost every joint in her body made a gentle popping sound, and every muscle felt horribly stiff. This is… wrong. I was just… wait…
Where am I?
Slowly she glanced around, eyes settling on the wooden fence next to her and a dilapidated terrestrial bus parked on a nearby road. Her head was throbbing, and the birds did not cease. She brought a hand up to her face and rested her forehead in it, a small attempt to rack her brain and perhaps ease the pounding.
I was on the Citadel… Anderson had just… did I…?
“The Catalyst… that pesky kid…” she murmured at long last, before her eyes settled on the sight of her legs. Or, more specifically, the artificial one on her left side. Her eyes widened as she slowly reached down to touch the slightly cold grey plastic exterior material of the prosthetic limb which began at her mid-thigh. Gods, what happened on that station? With a start and a hitched breath, another thought struck her.
My team… where is my team?
She swallowed away the tightness that was quickly growing in her throat. This is no time for tears, she resolved, as she glanced around once more. Her eyes landed on a sign, which read ‘PELICAN TOWN’ and had an arrow pointing down the dirt path. Another sign just below it and pointing the opposite direction read ‘SHEPARD FARM’.
She found herself pursing her lips as she contemplated the things this could mean. Perhaps it’s some other Shepard who lives here… yes, that must be it, that sign is a coincidence. Just how long was she out, and exactly how much had she missed? With a small scowl, she reached to activate her omnitool, before finding it absent. Also absent was her armor remnants; her Black Widow had been a casualty of the Reaper beam she took on her way up to the Citadel in the first place. She did find a watch strapped to her wrist, and plain clothes covering her body, but certainly nothing she had put on herself.
After a long moment deep in thought, she carefully rose to her feet, finding immediately that she was not used to the prosthetic at all. Not even a shred of muscle memory had been built around the use of the new limb.
“Sure seems to be a lot of evidence that I got hit by a bus, fixed up, and abandoned,” she mumbled to herself in jest as she cautiously, slowly, deliberately, lifted her prosthetic leg off the ground to take a step. By a stroke of luck, she did not fall directly on her face, landing instead on her hands when she fell, almost scraping up her palms on the rough dirt. Gritting her teeth, she rose once more, and attempted another wobbly step. This one worked, kind of, and she ended up about half a step closer to the destination that was Pelican Town. She wiped her hands off on her shorts and proceeded.
It took a good 5 minutes, but she struggled her way along the dirt path and then the cobbled stone path into the center of town. She was grateful to find it wasn’t too far, and that there were buildings within. Buildings usually mean people. People might mean figuring out how she got here, wherever ‘here’ actually is. And figuring out how she got here might mean figuring out how to get back to where she was supposed to be.
People also might mean my squad…if I should be so lucky…
If this was somewhere on Earth, it was small enough to have avoided any damage from the Reapers. The scattered buildings were completely intact, most even had flower boxes in the windows. As far as she could tell, the most that burdened the structures was paint fading and chipping in the elements. Must be nice.
She was glancing around, taking in the sleepy, idyllic town, when she heard the sound of a door opening. She turned to see it was the blue door of the small pale blue building with the large bright blue ‘red cross’ sign tucked up next to a larger beige and rust-hued building that was labeled as ‘Pierre’s’.
Her eyes locked with the warm brown spectacled eyes of a decently tall man with short, slightly wavy brown hair, dressed in a green suit jacket and a red necktie with a white shirt. She watched as the man’s eyes widened as she shifted herself to turn her body to face him. She reasoned that she must not be looking too healthy. Or perhaps he’d just somehow never seen a prosthetic limb.
“Ma’am, are you alright?” he called out as he darted forward from the door frame, allowing the door to shut behind him, evidently not caring what the answer to the question actually was.
A weak smile crossed Shepard’s freckled face. “I’ve been better, sir. Say, where are we?” She called out in response, and watched as the well-dressed man’s steps faltered. He arrived at her side soon nonetheless, one of his brows raised in intrigue and concern.
“This is Pelican Town, in Stardew Valley, part of the Ferngill Republic,” he answered as if it was the most obvious thing, his concern showing no signs of disappearing. “Ma’am, when did you arrive here? Are you feeling okay?”
The location answer combined with its delivery did nothing to ease her own confusion and concern. She had heard of approximately zero of those locations in all of her years of galactic travel.
Did that vexing AI child figure out a way to trick me into sending myself to a distant galaxy, or an alternate dimension somehow?
She bit the inside of her lip as she contemplated how to answer the man’s question. “First and foremost, please stop calling me ma’am. I’m pretty sure I’m not your commanding officer. My name is Amber Shepard,” she greeted, consciously omitting her rank, before hesitantly sticking out her hand. She watched as he tilted his head, before sticking out his own hand to shake hers gently, once, before separating. Clean and professional. She was impressed.
“I’m Dr. Harvey. Nice to meet you, Ms. Amber. I think I heard something about your arrival,” he greeted, and she smiled politely. A doctor? Always good to have one of those around. And just what has he heard?
“Ah, great, then you already know more than I do,” she responded with a lighthearted tone. He forced a small, somewhat nervous chuckle.
“Do you remember hitting your head at all?” He asked after a long moment.
Pretending to not be moderately offended, she overcompensated with a warm smile. “My head hurts like I haven’t drank water in 4 days, not like I bonked it,” she answered, her voice a little more curt than she intended. He nodded quickly with a slightly grim expression.
“Would you mind following me into my clinic here? I’ll get you some water, and bring you to find Mayor Lewis. He’s probably waiting for you on your farm.” Harvey gestured to the door he had emerged from in the first place.
That sentence quickly confirmed her sneaking suspicions that her name being on the sign with the word ‘Farm’ attached to it had something to do with her being there after all. She had hoped it hadn’t meant she was now the owner of a farm. She let out a small sigh, before steeling herself, nodding, and taking a hesitant, slightly wobbly step towards the clinic door.
Harvey tried to not visibly grimace, before he held out a hand for her to take so she could steady herself. With a small, forced smile, she waved it away, proceeding past him. “Thank you, Doctor, but I got this. I got all the way over here, after all,” she declared as she made her way towards the clinic door. With a sigh and a shrug, the doctor followed her, opening the door up for her to enter the clinic.
She was struck by that familiar, comforting smell of antiseptic and sterility as she crossed the threshold into the building. She took in a deep breath and smiled to herself as Harvey closed the door and moved around her to head to the pale wooden door against the wall. He disappeared behind it, before emerging from the door behind the reception counter a moment later. He quickly dug around under the desk-like portion before pulling out a bottle of water with a deep blue label emblazoned with a large white J. He placed the bottle on the counter’s edge closest to Shepard. “For you, Ms. Amber,” he declared, before he disappeared back into the door.
She fought back a frown as she grabbed the bottle of room-temperature water. Perhaps introducing herself by full name without rank was a mistake; she’d been hoping to create a feeling of familiarity, but it felt empty. I don’t know these people like that. Not yet, anyway.. She took a breath, attempting to shake the feeling, before she twisted the cap off the bottle and brought it to her lips. The taste of stale plastic hit her mouth before even the illusion of the flavor of water did. She grimaced, but drank half the bottle anyway. It may have tasted like plastic, but it certainly felt like water on her parched tongue and throat.
Just as she brought the bottle back down, Harvey reemerged. “I’m not a fan of Joja products, but they are cheaper, so I tend to do most of my shopping there,” he admitted, which prompted her to glance down at the bottle in her hand to read the ‘JojaMart Essentials’ brand logo. She wasn’t a fan herself; it tasted more like the bottle than like water.
“So, you said the Mayor was waiting for me on my farm?” She asked after a long moment. The doctor nodded assertively.
“Yes, Ms. Amber. Would you like to head over there?” he asked. She bit the inside of her lip before bringing the water bottle back up to her mouth and taking another long drink. It was already helping to ease the way her head had been pounding.
“Yeah, I’ll be on my way. Thank you for the water, Dr. Harvey. I’ll pay you back some day,” she responded, before turning on her heel and reaching to open the door. In a flash, Harvey was next to the door.
“Whoa, whoa, maybe I should walk over with you?” he offered, his concern evident in his tone. Amber fought hard to not scowl, instead forcing a smile.
“Scared I’ll fall over, doctor? Don’t worry. I’m a big girl, not a turtle. I’ll be able to get back up,” she responded, her tone lighthearted, as she opened up the door to the clinic and stepped back out into the sunshine. She heard the door close behind her and heard only her own uneven footsteps as she proceeded back in the direction of the bus stop she’d woken up at.
Spring 0, Year 1- 12:10
Her conversation with Mayor Lewis had been… enlightening, to say the least.
She was indeed the new owner of Shepard Farm, which she was told had been owned by her grandfather and was where he resided up until his death a few short years ago. She didn’t dare to argue with Lewis after he spoke so confidently, however all she could think was how her grandfather had actually died decades ago, when she was 4. She could still remember the Alliance service and clinging to her mother’s leg for the whole thing. Perhaps he had somehow been referring to her paternal grandfather, the one who, to her knowledge, was still alive and well up in the remnants of Maine. She had a feeling he was referring to someone else entirely, though.
She’d need to work the land to earn a living and avoid starvation, however she had been given a ‘starter kit’ from Mayor Lewis. This kit included 500 units of the local credit equivalent ‘gold’, a packet of 15 parsnip seeds, 12 cans of of something called ‘Joja Cola’ which came in a bright blue can and she hoped resembled Pepsi Cola in flavor, and 14 servings of something called ‘Moss Soup’, which was allegedly nonperishable and looked and smelled exactly like you’d expect; the forest floor. She figured the taste wouldn’t be far off, either, but hoped that it would be better than starving or living off of foraged wild leeks and dandelions.
She swiftly got the impression that her own memories, her own reality, her own lived experiences, were no longer at her fingertips, and that this was some other place, some sort of pocket dimension that differed greatly from her home. This was cemented when the Mayor recounted a fond memory of seeing Amber visit the valley as a child. She had to fight the surprised look off her face to avoid giving the impression that she was either someone else or had amnesia.
That was when the local carpenter, Robin, arrived and made her introduction. She was pleasant enough, despite backhanded comments on the state of the ‘shack’ on the farm where Amber would reside. She explained that she offered building services and house upgrades, for a price, naturally. Amber assured her that she would be dropping by for a long discussion when she had earned enough of her keep.
Perhaps the worst part was when Robin, after eyeing the artificial leg for their entire conversation, asked the dreaded question; ‘what happened?’
Shepard had pursed her lips for a long time before answering. She wasn’t actually sure what had happened to her once perfectly cloned leg, only being able to guess that the change was the result of the Catalyst, or perhaps the process that had brought her there in the first place. “The war,” she had declared simply, hoping that would be an acceptable answer. It wasn’t a lie, per se. Not for her, anyway. That said, she didn’t even know if there had been wars in the region as of late; it was a complete shot in the dark, based on a semblance of truth.
Her relief had likely been tangible when the response she got was an understanding grimace from both adults, and a “damn Gotorans” from the Mayor. She had nodded briefly in response, and then briefly pondered what the consequences of her words would be before moving on to ask Robin how much a coop costs to build.
Soon enough, the two townsfolk had bid her adieu, but not before encouraging her to get out and meet everyone, and left her alone to her devices on her new farm. They had also encouraged her to take the rest of the day off as a ‘rest day’. As much as she desperately wanted to get started on her perimeter search for her crew, she knew she needed to take at least a moment for herself first, to collect her thoughts and rest her body, before she could fully ignore the advice of her new acquaintances. She made haste to head into her new domicile. The stairs upward proved a ‘fun’ new challenge for her and her leg, one that she met head on and cleared.
She was greeted by a surprisingly cozy sight as she pushed the cabin door open and stepped inside; sunlight filtered in from 2 windows, landing on a rug beneath her work boot-clad feet. There was a red brick fireplace in the corner of the room, a single four poster bed in the adjacent corner with a large fluffy beige comforter pulled up tightly to the pillow, a birch dresser stood between it and the fireplace. Dual planters hung from the wall with lush, healthy green pothos hanging down over the sides, a pale birch table resided against the windowed wall with a potted flower resting in the middle and 2 bench-like seats in matching wood pushed up to either side, a mini-fridge, and a large, boxy, antique styled television. She had seen one only once before, in an antique shop on the Citadel. She had stared at the buttons for a long moment before resolving to figure it out later, and flopping down backward onto her new bed.
Wherever she was seemed to be stuck in around the year 2000, which the history-buff part of her was delighted about, and the entire rest of her was terrified about. Did I somehow time travel? That one thing humanity has always wanted to learn how to do? Am I now stuck in a time before my team? Or is this a dream? Or was my old life the dream? Or did I die, and this is the afterlife? What does this mean for my squad?
That thought echoed in her head quite a few times as she stared up at her new ceiling from where she laid atop the covers. What does this mean for my squad?
She shuddered at the thought that what lies beyond death is more work, a missing limb, and a lack of Garrus. And the rest of her team, for that matter. She supposed she should be grateful; should this turn out to be the afterlife, him not being around implied he was still alive. Her heart ached as she imagined him, alone, in the recently Reaper devastated galaxy, left to pick up the pieces she’d left behind. She could hear the sound of his voice echoing in her head.
“Not sure if turian heaven is the same as yours, but if this thing goes sideways, and we both end up there… meet me at the bar. I’m buying.”
“... it’d be an awfully empty galaxy without you.”
“... I love you too.”
As tears began to prickle at the edges of her eyes, she forced herself to sit up, wiping her eyes carefully with her fingertips. No tears… not until I find that bar, anyway. She recalled to herself seeing the edges of a sign that looked like it said ‘Saloon’ when she glanced around the town before being accosted by Dr. Harvey.
After a glance at the watch on her wrist, something she never would have chosen for herself, to check the time, she concluded that she’d already wasted enough of the day, and forced herself to her feet. She stretched her shoulders and back with a sigh, noticing how simply laying on her bed had helped alleviate several points of tension from earlier.
She wouldn’t have ever chosen to wear overall shorts and a t-shirt, either, but here she stood in exactly that. She didn’t mind the colors, though; black denim paired with a warm orange. It was the first time in several years that she’d gotten to wear an entire outfit without something having an N7 logo patched on somewhere, or in that N7 red hue. It felt a bit like she was naked without something denoting her status after spending years being very clearly labelled.
She decided to investigate the dresser, assuming it would be empty. To say she was surprised when it wasn’t would’ve been an understatement. Her eyes widened as she recognized garments she hadn’t seen in years upon opening the middle drawer; outfits she had worn before enlisting. She grimaced at the sight of a familiar skirt, though she found it lacked that stain.
“Not sure how I feel about that, to be honest,” she murmured to nobody, before picking up one of the sweaters and checking the tags. She found that these garments were labeled as her current size, not her high-school, no-muscle-mass size. Grateful, she folded the sweater back up before closing the drawer and checking the bottom drawer. That drawer she found empty, though not just empty; dark, like there was a deep void within. She closed it once more, resolving that that was a problem for another day.
As she opened the top drawer, her eyes settled upon the sight of clean, neatly folded undergarments and sleep clothes, before travelling over to the right side to fall upon a very familiar looking article from much more recently in her life. She gasped, then grabbed and unfolded one of her trusty N7 hoodies. She hugged it to her chest briefly, grateful for anything resembling proof of her status and of the last 12 or so years of her life. With a smile, she unzipped the garment and slipped it over her shoulders, opting to leave it unzipped. She placed her hands in the pockets and glanced down at herself. She wouldn’t say she was thrilled with the overall look, but it was quite literally the best she could manage right now.
That familiar voice echoed in her head again. She couldn’t fight the slight smile that pulled at the corner of her lips. She doubted Garrus would care for this outfit nearly as much as he had for that dress that night. But a girl can dream, can’t she?
Oh, he always knows just what to say… except for those times he doesn’t. She couldn’t fight the chuckle as she recalled that night before they traveled through the Omega 4 relay. She had 2 N7 hoodies at that point, and frequently got cold aboard the Normandy wearing just one, so she’d taken to layering them and zipping both up to her neck. Sometimes she’d even pull the sleeves of the first one over her hands. Apparently, the ‘detective’ hadn’t put this together. That night, as things grew more intense, he’d reached to unzip her hoodie and slip it off her shoulders.
She could vividly remember the expression he made when he found the second hoodie underneath; confusion with a touch of indignation, as the plates of his brow knit inward and one of his mandibles flickered. She had bursted out laughing so hard it nearly killed the mood.
Emphasis on ‘nearly’.
She drew in a deep breath before proceeding out the door of her cabin. The fresh air, bright sunshine, and chirping birds greeted her warmly. If she had anything on her mind other than her turian, she might’ve taken the time to appreciate the beauty around her. The healthy green trees, lush grass and shrubs, multicolored butterflies. The only sore sights were the broken branches and chunks of stone littering the ground in between.
She moved along without pause, making her way from her farmstead over to the bus stop and then into Pelican Town, adjusting to her leg more and more with each step. She even managed to slowly work the wobble out of her gait as she went from the red brick center of town towards the building very clearly labeled ‘Stardrop Saloon’.
She was noticing the trend in the names around the Valley when she saw another person, an unfamiliar human, headed towards the Saloon from the opposite direction. She wore a scowl and a pink puffer vest over a pink t-shirt. Her blonde curls didn’t move as she did, firmly stuck in place to her head, and the eyeshadow surrounding her almost-purple brown eyes matched her vest remarkably. The woman didn’t even bat an eye at Amber, opting instead to continue into the Saloon, opening the door with force and allowing it to swing shut behind her.
Shepard found herself almost impressed as she moved to catch up with the woman, reaching the door about a minute later and pushing it open.
The smell of dust combined with the smell of old wine hit her nose as she stepped in and closed the door behind her carefully. There was only one person at the bar. The woman from outside was already sitting at the far side of the bar and already had a beer bottle in her hand despite there being no bartender in sight. The woman locked eyes with Shepard, and finally, she opened her mouth to speak.
“Hey, kid. The name’s Pam. Don’t be a jerk, and we’ll get along fine,” she greeted, her voice slightly ragged. Shepard smiled politely and took a step up to the bar, taking a seat of her own directly in the middle.
“I’m Shepard. Good to meet you, Pam,” she responded, before hearing the swinging double doors in the corner of the saloon open up to reveal a gentleman with well–kempt brown hair, a perfectly on point handlebar mustache, and amber eyes to rival Shepard’s own. He soon wore a wide warm smile along with his open orange patterned button down and blue undershirt.
“Hello there! I’m Gus, chef and owner of the Stardrop Saloon. You must be the new farmer Mayor Lewis was discussing the other night, Ms. Shepard,” he greeted as he took his place behind the bar, immediately and effortlessly grabbing a cleaning rag from seemingly nowhere and beginning to polish a seemingly already clean glass. “Anything I can get for you?”
She glanced around the rather empty saloon, before returning her gaze to the man. “Good to meet you, Gus. Mayor Lewis told me to get out and meet the town, so I figured I would get started here,” she explained, opting to keep her true reasons to herself. Nobody needed to know she was desperately searching for someone; they’d either figure it out, or they didn’t need to know. She had a sneaking suspicion that if any of these people encountered Garrus Vakarian she would hear about it very soon after anyway, if only because she also had a sneaking suspicion that first contact had yet to occur in this realm and that word travels fast around here. “If I don’t buy something, will you kick me out or something?” she found herself asking hesitantly after a long moment.
A chuckle rose from both Pam and Gus. “Not at all. The opposite, in fact; how would you like a complimentary drink? A ‘welcome to town’ gift,” he offered, still polishing the glass in his hands. Shepard pondered the offer, before shrugging her shoulders.
“A soda might be nice,” she admitted, and heard a small scoff from the woman at the far end of the bar. Gus either didn’t hear the discontent or didn’t care, and immediately brought the thoroughly clean glass in his hand over to where the soda gun and a sink full of ice rested, deftly scooping up a glass full of ice in one rapid motion.
“A free drink, and you choose a soft one? Let me show her how it’s done some time, Gus,” Pam requested with a sly grin spreading across her face.
“You, ma’am, are already holding a drink you haven’t paid for,” Gus responded without looking up from the glass he was filling with fizzy dark brown soda of some variety. Her response was a grumble. Shepard almost smiled at the banter, before a glass of soda slid down the bar’s smooth surface to stop in front of her. She nodded slightly, impressed, before picking up the glass and bringing it to her lips. A vaguely familiar but distinctly lackluster taste hit her tongue. It somehow tasted of plastic covered in sugar, with a hint of spice. It reminded her of drinking Coke that had spent 4 years in a 2L bottle.
She sipped her soda politely, while Gus leaned forward against the bar. “In terms of meeting people, you’ll want to drop by on Friday evening. Just about everyone stops by then. Other than that? Pam here is my most loyal customer,” he explained, giving a small point to Pam, who was busy drinking her beer. “Other regulars? Clint comes by most nights, so does Willy, though he’s out on a fishing trip right now. He’s supposed to be back in a day or so. Elliot drops by every so often, same with Leah. Oh, and then there’s Shane. 5:20 on the dot every day. My second most loyal customer; Pam just gets here first.”
Shepard almost smiled into her drink. She set it down after another gulp. “How often do people you don’t already know come by?” she found herself asking before she could really assess the ramifications.
Gus threw her a dramatic look. “Never. You’re the first in years,” he explained. She quirked a brow, and glanced at Pam for confirmation. Pam answered with a solemn nod of her head. Shepard returned her gaze to Gus, just in time for him to open his mouth once more. “It’s true. Every year we have the Stardew Valley Fair, but I’m always running the grills so the bar is closed down. And these past years, we’ve had fewer and fewer tourists who come by.”
Amber couldn’t fight the small frown that crossed her face. “That’s… kind of a bummer,” she admitted, before bringing her soda back up to her mouth and taking a large sip.
Gus threw on a warm smile. “It’s not so bad. And now you’re here, and you’re going to get that old farm going again, and it’s really going to boost the local economy,” he beamed.
She nearly choked, but managed to avoid it, and placed her glass carefully back down. “Apparently so,” she murmured after a long moment.
After she finished her soda, she bid everyone a kind farewell, and returned to the farm, just as the digital display of her watch read 13:00. On her walk, she noticed that the time only seemed to be moving in increments of 10 minutes. She had no idea if it was just her watch, or if time here really was so bizarre. She didn’t take very long to ponder this, figuring she should get to work before she could waste even more time.
Her team may not have been by her side, but that didn’t mean she had to stagnate here. She may as well accomplish something if she’s going to be stuck here. She grabbed the scythe from where it was leaning against the edge of the porch, and got to work slicing away several shrubs and portions of tall grass.
Luckily for her, she maintained her muscle memory of all the time she’d spent farming on Mindoir, and before that, she’d taken voluntary agriculture courses in high school. She made swift work of a rather large patch, sorted out the fiber, straw, and wild mixed seeds, and made piles of each on the edge of her porch. She’d figure out what to do with her waste-not-want-not bounty later.
She swapped out the scythe for the hoe, and got to work tilling an appropriately sized field for roughly 15 parsnips to grow in. As she approached the final edge of what would be her crop field, she heard a clunk as her hoe hit something within the dirt. She tilted her head to one side as she carefully ran the hoe through the dirt again, this time watching as it picked up a rectangular tablet, half caked in dirt.
She felt her heart pound in her chest as she stepped over and reached down to pick up the edges of what looked an awful lot like a datapad.
She dropped the handle of the hoe in an instant, swiping any and all excess loose dirt and clay off the device, desperate to see what knowledge was contained within, if it was even still operational at all. Her eyes widened as she revealed the edges of a very familiar image. Is that…?
Desperately she began digging at the caked-on dirt with the tips of her fingers, scraping away bit by bit to reveal that the screen was displaying the picture she had taken of everybody at the end of the party she’d thrown at Anderson’s apartment. Jack, Tali, Grunt, Miranda, Traynor, Cortez, James, Jacob, Zaeed, Liara, Javik, Wrex, Samara, Kasumi, EDI, Joker, and of course… herself and Garrus, staring at each other instead of the camera.
Some part of her had almost been ready to believe that the life she’d just woken up from had indeed been a dream. Perhaps that would’ve made it easier to adjust to this new world. But now, with proof like her N7 hoodie and now this at her fingertips, the sight of each of her beloved comrades, the sight of her and Garrus…
This time, she couldn’t stop the tears. They blurred her vision in an instant, leaving her to kneel in her newly tilled field, clutching the datapad close to her chest as she softly wept. Her mind flooded with a variety of thoughts, before some overarching questions emerged: why am I here instead of there? Why am I here alone? What kind of gods or spirits did I forsake to earn this?
No answers found her that day.