InsaneJournal

Ever seen a fly try to get out a window?
Who: Shepard and Harbinger
What: Discussions, veiled threats, etc.
When: A few days ago
Where: Harbinger’s office
Status: Complete
Rating: PG-13



Tyra Shepard rarely felt fear, or trepidation. She’d dreamed of a life and a woman who’d fought impossible odds, and won. She’d lived a life of military adventure in this world, as well, though certainly less spectacular. What she felt right now was nerves. Her sidearm was heavy in her pocket, a weight that reminded her that there was always a choice.

She just hoped that she’d make the right one, today. That she wouldn’t have to choose between taking the life of one man, or risking the long darkness, with no guarantee of a light on the other side. She walked up the steps to the building, and stepped inside.

Harbinger was in his office, an absurdly large room with windows on all sides. Sitting behind his desk and sketching in a notebook, Harbinger was every inch the image of a relaxed, almost lazy businessman. He was none of these things: he knew what he was. He was a prophet, a healer, a leader, a vessel....and with the onset of the dreams, he was almost daring to call himself a new type of God.

Not a notion to be taken lightly, and pride did come before a fall. But was it pride, if it was truth? What he’d seen was real: there was no doubting it. It felt more real than anything he’d ever experienced. A great leviathan of terrible power, a haze of red lurking beneath dark shifting shapes against the backdrop of an endless unfolding space. It was what he was sketching from memory now: a metallic cuttlefish with beams of light bursting from within. And on the previous pages were his notes from when he’d woken up that night...what he’d written without realizing. One name, over and over.

shepard shepard shepard shepard
shepard shepard shepard shepard
shepard shepard shepard shepard
shepard shepard shepard shepard

When his intercom buzzed, he told his secretary to let the woman up. It was time for a good conversation.

Shepard stepped into the elevator, memories of the Citadel flashing through her mind. She'd hated those damned elevators. Folding her arms, she waited, time seeming to slow as floor after floor passed by. She shouldn't have been surprised. If she was a gigantic genocidal machine with a god complex in another universe, she'd want the top floor office too.

She glanced in the mirror. The scars on her face had faded to almost nonexistence, but she could still see them. She was proud of them now, even if they hadn't been the scars she'd had before she'd died.

Death and resurrection. Like a cycle.

She stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hallway, stopping in front of large, obnoxiously ornate doors.

Harbinger shut the notebook and tossed it into his drawer. A hidden camera just outside the door fed to his computer, and he saw Shepard. Turning the monitor off, Harbinger stood and flicked a button underneath his desk. The doors swung open automatically, closing after Shepard entered. He smiled warmly.

“Tyra Shepard,” he said. “I think this talk is a little overdue. Good to meet you in the flesh.”

A shiver ran down her spine, but she plastered her best 'the general is a dick but still have to smile' smile onto her face. Her eyes scanned the room on instinct as he walked up, and held out her hand. She studied the man with the same critical eye. "Good to meet you too... Frankly, I'm not sure what to call you."

“I’m Dr Harold Heisen. But most people call me Harbinger,” he replied, keeping his smile as he sized her up. She didn’t seem like much, but certain people had a magnetism around them. He knew: he was one. “Now, about these dreams.”

He circled around the desk. “A giant space station? A wide variety of alien species? An ancient race of machine-Gods? Any of this ring a bell?” he asked with a shrug.

"You're ringing gongs," Shepard replied. She dropped her hand when he didn't take it, and clasped both of hers behind her back, taking an 'at ease' pose. Even standing like that, she radiated command.

"I'm not going to insult your intelligence and pretend I haven't dreamed anything like that. I don't remember any Gods, though. Just big ships that can break, just like anything else."

“Seems an odd sentiment, considering some of the company you keep,” replied Harbinger, walking forward. “It’s a strange, big universe we live in, isn’t it? So many different types. Wayward personalities that you’ve gathered together. I do the same, but with a difference.”

He stopped just before her. His smile faded. “My followers don’t work with me. They don’t stay the same....they change. They become part of something bigger, something pure. A thousand minds, all moving in such unity that they become one,” he said, and after a moment, his face broke into that old smile. “There’s a plan in place for all of us, Commander. What plan do you see for yourself?”

"My people aren't followers. They're pillars. They're a foundation. But they wouldn't be worth a damn thing if they didn't have personality. They choose to follow me, and I ask no more of them than I'd ask of myself." Shepard's gaze had turned icy, her eyes like hard emeralds in an impassive face.

"Plan?" Her tone was much lighter than her eyes. "White picket fence, lots of little blue children running around, occasionally terrorizing the neighbors with Krogan appropriate block parties."

Harbinger nodded lazily. “Then again, maybe I shouldn’t have asked,” he said. “Announcing your plans is a good way to hear God laugh, after all.” He broke his gaze on her, turning away to his desk.

“Blue babies with Dr T’soni. Optimistic. But I don’t believe for a second that you’ve tricked yourself into placing your faith in that dream,” he said, looking out the window-wall. “It’s because of them. All those people out there, and you’ve always been their protector. That’s the tough part of being a hero, isn’t it? Making the tough choices.” Harbinger turned away from the window without giving Shepard a chance to speak. “But you might never have to make that tough choice, between young Liara and humanity itself. These people yearn for control...to be controlled. To be free of their own choices. You can be free, too, if you want it.”

"You're God now? That's the funny part." She watched him move, not looking where he was looking, but at him. At this human representation of everything she'd fought against. She dropped her hands to her side. "That's not freedom, Harbinger. It's an illusion. A magic trick to fool people into throwing away their individuality. Don't think you're the first person to look at these dreams and think they see Gods."

She'd already put a bullet in the Illusive Man's head.

Harbinger shrugged. “Could be the last,” he said. “This entire meeting is a courtesy, Shepard. Together, we could do great things.” Turning, Harbinger walked to the aquarium by the wall. It was enormous, with blue lights glowing from within, facing the window-wall. He produced a capsule of food, reaching up to lightly sprinkle the food in. Within a few seconds, different little cuttlefish squirmed out of their dark hiding places.

“But if you don’t want to be part of the plan, that’s fine, too,” he said. “Feel free to do what you want. You know where to find me if you change your mind. And vice versa...” Harbinger moved back to his desk.

Few things had creeped Shepard out more in this life, than watching Harbinger feed cuttlefish. She didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing that, though. Her handed moved to her pocket, the handle of her pistol cold to the touch, but comforting. She flicked the safety off, as she watched the man move back to his desk.

"There's more than one answer, Harbinger. There always has been, and there always will be."

She wondered how much he remembered, and was compelled to ask, "What do you see of me?"

Harbinger’s eyes followed her hand. “Ah, ah,” he said gently. “Think twice. I’m fairly certain you have a weapon, and so you should be certain that the consequences of your actions would be...immediate.”

He leaned back. “I see a ship being torn apart like a dying plant. I see bursts of flame in the darkness, spreading and consuming. I see a little body, struggling and...failing. Ever seen a fly try to get out a window? Just batting against it over and over until it gives out and falls,” he said. “That’s what I saw of you, Commander.”

The safety clicked back into place. She wasn't feeling like murder right now, anyway, and he wasn't armed. She smiled at him. It was a charming smile, though her eyes remained hard.

"Funny thing about people like me. We know there's always another way through that window." She turned to go, adding. "Just wait until you see how I walk on water."

“Oh, I can’t wait for our next conversation,” replied Harbinger, keeping his smile wide and tight. “If it is a conversation.”