You've been visited by the random OC question fairy! :D ~â
What is something that your character actively tries to forget about themselves or the people/things around them? Any memories they'd rather not be reminded of?
Hellos!Â
There are rules about thanking the fae but let me say, itâs very nice of you to drop in and I was thrilled to find this ask in my box. Especially because it inspired me to actually WRITE something, which Iâve been struggling with for a good long while. This is my first fic for my newest Shepard, Donovan, who is NOT to be confused with Donovan LĂr, despite their similarities.
Be Happy (also on AO3)
Why canât you just be happy?
The first time Dmitri asks itâs an amused, almost fond question over their celebratory dinner. The charges from Torfan have been dismissed. The looming dishonorable discharge completely averted with a single call. Two hours ago he was musing over his preference between firing squad or lethal injection, now itâs red or white wine.
âWould you really prefer the alternative?â Dmitri continues, a lighthearted tease, and Donovan would rather be alive than dead, free instead of thrown into a prison to rot, so he tries not to think about the piles of batarian bodies and nods and sips his wine.
Why canât you just be happy?
It doesnât take long for amusement to turn to exasperation.Â
Itâs partially his own fault. A promotion, especially accompanied by N7 designation, comes with a change in assignments and he questions each of them in a way he never has before.
âThis is what you wanted.â Dmitri sighs as he taps the symbol on Donovanâs chest. The badge of honor now a brand of shame. âEverything you wanted.â
He wants to answer that he didnât want this. At least not like this. Not when itâs built on a lie. Not when the price is his team and hundreds of innocent lives. That thereâs no honor in awards earned with other peopleâs blood. He wants to but heâs not sure how or if Dmitri would understand anyway, so he says nothing.
Why canât you just be happy?
He isnât sure when it becomes an accusation. The same brutal cross-examination that Dmitri built his own career and reputation on.
âThey could have thrown the book at you,â Dmitri rails. âDisrespect toward a superior commissioned officer. Missing movement. Unauthorized absence. Willfully disobeying a superior commissioned officer. Mutiny and sedition. Aiding the enemy. You should be thrilled with the way things played out. Or do you honestly think that justice was served?â
And for the first time he snaps back.
âYou want to talk about justice? Whereâs the fucking justice in leaving civilians to hang after after we made a bags of the thing? We led the pirates right to them and Kyle wanted us to abandon them! It was the wrong call!â
âThat doesnât make it an unlawful one.â
âBut you honestly think following it would have been justice served?â
He spits the words back at him, some deep, desperate, wounded part of him hoping they cut just as deep. They do but Donovan finds no satisfaction in the flash of pain. Dmitri believes in the law the way he believed in the Alliance so for one terrible moment he is Dmitriâs Torfan.Â
Then the hurt is gone, replaced by a certainty both harder and more brittle than it was before. As if denying doubt could make his faith stronger. As if by blaming him, he can absolve himself.
âIt would have prevented this mess, wouldnât it?â
Why canât you just be happy?
Donovan âcelebratesâ the first anniversary alone but the words linger even with Dmitri gone. No wine this time, white or red, just eight shots of whiskey in a line on the bar in front of him.
One for the people he killed, by success and failure.
One for each member of his team, six Alliance soldiers dead in the name of justice, he hopes.
One for himself, the life he lost without dying.
