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Chapter Text

Alchera is cold.

That’s the first thing that registers in Lily Shepard’s mind when she steps off the shuttle and onto the planet’s surface. It’s the kind of cold that somehow passes through her hardsuit;, the kind of cold that seeps into her bones, and she can’t help but shiver.

The second thing to register is the eerie quiet. There’s the wind, the slight crunch of snow under her boots when she first stepped off the Normandy and… that’s it. Shuddering, she presses on, trying not to think too much about what this planet means.

It isn’t until she finds the first dog tag that the emotions hit her.  The metal glistens in the snow, staring up at her, stark and unfeeling and cold. Why is everything so cold?

 When the first piece of wreckage from the Normandy SR-1 comes into sight, she inhales sharply, trying to fight back tears. The Normandy had been her first real command, but more than that, it had been her home. And now it was gone.

Good people had died here. Too many names and faces, lost forever, and it makes her heart ache to think about it. They deserved better.

(She tries not to think about the fact that she, too, died here, but when she stumbles across her old N7 helmet, cracked and dented, it’s impossible to forget. Is she even real anymore? Is this real? Or did she stay dead, out in that endless sea of stars, and this is all some sort of purgatory-esque nightmare?)

She forces herself to go through the motions and collect the rest of the dog tags. She refuses to let the brave, loyal soldiers under her command be forgotten. Their families deserved peace, and they deserved recognition for being the best damn crew she’d ever had the privilege of working with.

It’s not until she places the monument that a strangled cry escapes her defenses, clawing its way out of her throat. Everything is too real and also too dead and why is she so cold? Maybe going alone wasn’t a good idea, but at least she doesn’t have to let anyone see her right now. Scared. Vulnerable. Weak.

There was only one person she ever trusted to see that side of her, but his words on Horizon made it quite clear that he no longer wanted anything to do with her, that he didn’t trust her. Could she blame him? Some days she didn’t trust herself. She didn’t trust herself to be real.

Because she remembers, she remembers what it was like to die, and how was anyone supposed to come back from that? She remembers choking on stardust, she remembers the deep cold of space—the kind of cold that lingers and permeates every cell of your being. The kind of cold that’s inescapable.

The kind of cold that comes with death.

Because she was dead, and now she’s not, and some days she wonders how long. How long until this illusion shatters, how long until she shatters? Some days she doesn’t trust her feet to not shatter as she swings them over her bed in the morning and places them on the cold, hard ground.

Some days it is only the knowledge that the galaxy is relying on her that allows her to get up, to pull her hair back and put on her armor—to become Commander Shepard, Savior of the Citadel, and not just Liliana Grace Shepard, dead woman walking.

Her vision has started to go hazy by the time Joker swings the Normandy by to pick her up. He opens his mouth at the sight of her, blank-eyed and emotionless, but closes it again, unsure of what to say—or perhaps knowing better than to engage Commander Shepard when she’s in one of her moods.

“I’ll be in my quarters,” she manages to force out through frozen lips. Corpse-like. Again, there’s that niggling thought she can’t get over. Is she real? Or is she still dead?

“You know how to reach me if something comes up,” she continues, tripping over the words, her tongue feeling like lead in her mouth. No, not lead—a block of ice.

“Roger that, Commander,” Joker says. He pauses. “Are you—?”

“I’m fine.” She cuts him off before he can finish. “I have reports to fill out.”

She stumbles her way to the elevator, and into her quarters, stripping off her armor the moment the door closes. She can’t stop shivering and now her teeth are chattering, and she trips and fumbles her way into the shower.

Why is she so cold?

She turns the shower on as hot as it will go, and the scalding spray turns her pale skin bright red, but she can’t feel it. She can’t feel anything. Why can’t she feel? Maybe the real Commander Shepard is back there on Alchera, buried in the ice. Or maybe the real Commander Shepard is still floating out there in the vastness of space, drowned in the light of the stars.

Maybe Kaidan’s harsh words on Horizon were true, maybe she is a fake, a clone. A ghost. That’s what he’d called her, wasn’t it? For some reason, that is what sticks with her, more than his distrust, more than his hurtful words, more than him calling her a traitor.

Because if she is a ghost, then none of this is real, right? If she’s a ghost, then Kaidan can’t hate her. If she’s a ghost, she doesn’t have to save the galaxy from impossible odds. Again. If she’s a ghost, she can’t be a traitor.

Because she worries sometimes. She worries about trusting Cerberus, about trusting the Illusive Man. She doesn’t trust them, but what choice does she have? She’s a ghost, and none of this matters because none of this is real and Kaidan can move on with that doctor on the Citadel he mentioned, and the thought hurts but he deserves better than a ghost.

He deserves better than the shell she’s become, the empty husk that Cerberus brought back; because this isn’t real and it isn’t right and it isn’t her and she still can’t warm up. Even though she’s been standing under the scalding spray for minutes now.

She turns the water off and wraps herself in her bathrobe, droplets from her long blonde hair dripping down her back. She only makes it a few steps before she collapses, her breath coming in gasps, sobs catching in her throat as she clings to the frame of her bed for support.

She died back there. Died. Dead. Deceased. And all the other synonyms she can’t think of. There is no ‘almost’ this time, no coming back from the brink just in time. She’s faced death countless times—on Earth as a child, when she fell into the wrong crowd; during the Skyllian Blitz, when she held off the Batarians until reinforcements could arrive; fighting Saren at the battle of the Citadel.

And countless more insignificant moments, countless times when a mission had gone awry, when something unexpected had happened, when reports had been wrong, and the danger was greater than anticipated. But there was always that almost. There was always laughter born out of relief and “Fuck, that was a close one," and toasts to fallen friends who didn’t make it.

But this time, it had been her. It should be her friends toasting her, it had been her friends toasting her, and yet she’s still here. 

Why is she still here?

She cries and cries and cries until she can’t cry anymore, until she can’t tell if she’s shaking because of tears or because of that unending cold, until she’s numb and exhausted.

In her head, she writes a thousand letters to him.

In them, she curses him out, she begs him for forgiveness, she tells him she hasn’t changed, she apologizes for who she’s become. Contradictions, but all true, nonetheless. She is both legend and ghost, hero and traitor, broken but somehow still whole.

Words from his email run through her brain on a loop. 

“I guess I really don’t know who either of us is anymore.” 

“A lot has changed in the last two years and I can’t just put that aside.” 

“When things settle down a little… maybe…”

And, worst of all, “Just take care.”

She wants to cling on to hope, hope that maybe he doesn’t hate her, that maybe they still have a future. Hope that maybe she’s still real.  But if she can’t even trust herself to be real, how can she expect him to trust her on that? He can’t love a ghost. He can’t love what doesn’t exist.

In her head, she has a thousand conversations with him, a thousand arguments, a thousand reconciliations. She worries that maybe she’s going crazy, but ghosts can’t go crazy, can they?

“Dear Kaidan,” she thinks, as if her thoughts can somehow reach him. “I’m sorry that I’ve become a ghost. I’m sorry that I’m no longer real. I, too, don’t know who I am anymore, because who I was and who I am are not the same and I don’t know how to reconcile that. I am made entirely of broken parts and pieces that no longer fit together and nothing makes sense. I need you to show me how to be me again.”

But there’s another part of her, too, a part which is angry at him for not trusting her, for not believing her, for turning his back on her on Horizon, and sometimes her imaginary letters aren’t so kind to him.

“Dear Kaidan. How could you? I loved you. I trusted you. I thought, in return, you trusted me, too. But I died, and now I’m back and none of it makes sense, but I’m still me. Cracked and broken, but still me, and if you can’t trust me now, when I need you more than ever, then maybe you don’t deserve me.”

Through it all, there’s one common thread, one underlying theme in all of her imaginary conversations with him, one line that gets to the heart of her feelings.

Why aren’t you here?

He should be he here. He should have been with her when she went to Alchera to place the monument. He, more than anyone else, knew what the Normandy had meant to her. He’d been with her from the very beginning, from before Eden Prime, from before Saren and the Geth, before this whole mess began.

He’d been there to listen to her vent her frustrations as the Council refused to listen to her. He’d been there to console her when Ashley died, and she was wracked with guilt and grief in equal measures. He’d been there, on Ilos, when they learned about the fate of the Protheans and the Reapers.

And he’d been there when the Normandy was destroyed. When she died.

But now he wasn’t, and she hated him for that. She hated how his words from Horizon dug deep and cut her to the very core of her being, she hated that she’d found her old helmet on Alchera, because it was a reminder of who she used to be.

It was a reminder that she died, and by all rights, should not be here today. And yet, here she is. A ghost in the shape of a woman.

She drags herself to the bathroom and forces herself to look, really look at her reflection in the mirror. She’s almost afraid she won’t see anything. As she lifts a hand to touch her cheek, she worries for a moment that maybe it will just pass right through her, as if she weren’t really there, but her hand makes contact with solid flesh.

In the mirror, she sees wide, haunted blue eyes staring back at her. Long, blonde hair that frizzes around her face, still soft and stringy and damp from the shower. The same as she’s always looked.

But she has new scars, scars that glow with an eerie orange undertone, scars that show the cybernetics under her skin that are keeping her alive, and that’s what scares her. Her outside looks mostly the same, but what of her inside? What had they done to bring her back?

Despite herself, tears well up in her eyes once more; tears mourning the loss of who she used to be, and tears for the deep unknown of who she has become, who she is trying to come to terms with it.

It is these moments, where she is entirely alone, that she lets herself be vulnerable. Tomorrow, she’ll put on her armor again, both literal and metaphorical. Tomorrow, she will be Commander Shepard, hero of the Blitz, first human Spectre, Savior of the Citadel. Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy, because despite everything, that’s still who she is.

But for now, she lets herself be Lily—just Lily. Earthborn girl who had a rough start to life, who never knew her parents. Lily, who died back there, above Alchera, drowning in the stars.

Lily, ghost in the shape of a woman.

Across the galaxy, on a separate planet, worlds and light years away, Kaidan is struggling to concentrate. Now that most of Horizon is gone, he’s moved on, assigned a new job, a new mission, as if everything were the same as always.

But it’s not the same, because he saw her. He’d heard the reports, of course, that Commander Shepard had been seen on Omega. He’d both desperately craved it to be true and fiercely wished it weren’t. Because if it were true, it meant she was alive, oh God, she was alive.

But if it wasn’t true, it meant she was truly gone, and his heart would break into a thousand pieces again, because it’s been two years, but he’s still sometimes not sure how to exist in this galaxy without her.

Not just because he loved her— (loves her? Sometimes he isn’t sure anymore)—but because she is Commander Shepard, living legend. And she can’t just die, alone in the emptiness of space, where they can’t even recover her body.

But then he saw her on Horizon, and he realized that it was all true, and in that moment, his relief was overshadowed by his anger, because if she was alive, how dare she let him think she was dead for the past two years?

He’s been doing a little better lately. Or at least, he had been, before he saw her again. His Alliance-mandated therapist was slowly starting to help, the coping mechanisms he’d originally written off as bullshit slowly starting to help him heal.

He’d even gone on that date with the doctor from the Citadel. Sure, he’d spent the entire time comparing her to Shepard, to Lily, and finding her coming up short in ways that weren’t her fault (no one could live up to Shepard), but at least he’d tried.

In that moment on Horizon, when his anger overshadowed his relief, he said some things that he regrets. But at the same time, how was he supposed to trust a dead woman walking? He’d follow Shepard to the end of the galaxy and back, but she’d died, and he’d been slowly, sort of, almost getting over it—not getting over it, there was no getting over it, but getting to a point where it wasn’t so raw—and then she just showed up again.

Her memorial service had been beautiful. Beautiful and heartbreaking. It hurt like hell that they hadn’t been able to find her body, that they couldn’t properly lay her to rest and give her the best goddamn hero’s funeral the galaxy has ever seen.

But it was still beautiful. Everyone was there—Liara, Garrus, Tali, Wrex, Joker. Captain Anderson. Admiral Hackett. It seemed like half of the entire Alliance Navy had been there, and why shouldn’t they be? She’d been an amazing woman, and they all deserved to honor and mourn her.

And now, two years later, she shows up again, and he’s torn between how dare you and I was so lost without you. But is it really her? That’s what worries him.

She’s with Cerberus, and the thought of that turns the whiskey bitter in his mouth. Was it not enough to lose the woman he loved? Must he now be tormented by her half-return, the shell of who she once was, close enough that he craves her, yet different enough that he doesn’t trust her?

It’s as if the universe is dangling all his hopes and dreams in front of his face, daring him to reach out and grab it, but he’s scared that if he does, she’ll crumble into dust and he’ll be alone. 

Again.

Her return is taunting, tantalizing, and oh so dangerous, and he can’t make up his mind about it, about her. He wishes… well. He wishes a lot of things. He wishes he’d ignored her commands to leave, that he’d stayed and made sure she was safe.

He wishes she’d never died; he wishes she’d stayed dead; he wishes everything didn’t hurt so damn much. But she did, she didn’t, and everything did.

So, here they are. Shepard—or some facsimile of Shepard—is out there with Cerberus, in the Normandy SR-2, both the same and entirely different, and here he is. Sitting at a bar on the Citadel, knocking back a glass of whiskey, trying to figure out what to do now.

They are worlds apart, nothing but the strangled cry of space separating them, but when he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine her sitting there, next to him.

“To Shepard, bravest woman I’ve ever known.” He lifts his glass in a quiet, solitary toast. “Stay safe out there, Lily. I can’t handle losing you a second time.”

Chapter Text

Lily Shepard is in the middle of gazing out the window from her high-rise apartment in Alliance headquarters, needing a distraction from the news reports she’s been reading on her datapad. She keeps hoping that maybe one day she’ll turn on the news to find that the Alliance has actually decided to do something about the Reaper threat, rather than sit on their asses, but no such luck.

It turns out that gazing out the window isn’t the best form of distraction, as that only makes her equally frustrated. It’s a beautiful day outside, sun shining, blue skies… and she’s stuck inside. Six months of house arrest, and no word when—or even if—it would end, and she feels like she’s starting to lose her mind.

The subtle whoosh of the doors breaks her out of her reverie and she turns to see James enter with a salute.

“Commander.”

She knows he still calls her that to be respectful, but there’s a part of her that chafes at the word— and the salute. It’s a reminder of what she’s lost, and it stings. Hero of the Blitz and now this, disgraced former commander under semi-permanent house arrest because she had to make a tough decision.

“You know you’re not supposed to call me that anymore,” she remarks mildly.

James just shrugs. “I’m not supposed to salute, either.”

And yet here we are, she thinks.

“The defense committee wants to see you,” James continues. “We gotta go, it sounded urgent.”

Shepard tosses the datapad onto her bed and tightens the elastic keeping her long, blonde hair securely piled on top of her head, before following James out the door, dodging other soldiers running about.

Alliance Command is always a hubbub of activity, and it takes her a moment to readjust to that. She doesn’t leave her apartment much, it’s too depressing to be right in the middle of the action but know that she’s no longer part of it.

“What’s going on?” she asks as she tries to keep up with James’ long strides. “What did they say?”

“They didn’t say,” James said. “Only that they needed you. Now.”

Shepard frowns, considering the implications of what it all might mean, when she spies a familiar face in the crowd. The man coming towards them is in Alliance blues, crisp and freshly pressed, his Admiral badge and service medals gleaming. Though his eyebrows are drawn together in thought, she knows how the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles and she can’t help but crack a smile of her own upon seeing him.

“Anderson.” Throughout these hellish past six months, Anderson had been her staunchest ally, defending her during her hearing and lightening her sentence as much as he could. He and James were the only two who made her feel like a glimmer of who she used to be, and not… this. Commander Shepard, Hero of the Blitz, first human Spectre. Commander Shepard, the woman who saved humanity from the Collectors.

But none of that matters anymore, not after what she’d done to the Alpha Relay. Now she’s a mass murderer, a commander without a ship or anyone under her, a soldier without a war to fight.

A ghost in the shape of a woman.

Those words, the ones she’d thought to herself on Alchera, come back to her and she almost smiles at how true it’s become— but thinking of Alchera leads down a dark path, and she can’t think of him right now. How was that only just over a year ago? It felt like an eternity.

“It’s good to see you, Shepard,” Anderson is saying. “How have you been holding up these days?”

“Oh, you know,” Shepard says. “It’s not so bad once you get used to the hot showers and soft beds and good food.”

Her tone is light, but they both know being relieved from duty has wrecked Shepard. She enlisted the day she turned 18, determined to make a better life for herself, to escape her life in the gangs. She’s been a soldier for too long to be anything else.

“We’ll get this sorted out,” Anderson says, and Shepard isn’t sure if he means whatever the defense committee has summoned her for, or her detention and house arrest. Or maybe both.

“What’s going on?” she asks as she dodges to avoid running into another soldier. “I know Alliance Command is often busy, but why is everyone in this much of a rush?”

“Admiral Hackett’s mobilizing the fleets,” Anderson says, his tone grim. “Everyone is trying to figure out where to go and what to do. Something big is headed our way, and fast.”

Despite the rush, Shepard can’t help but pause at this, her breath catching in her throat. “The Reapers?” Behind her, she can hear James swear softly under his breath, the information clearly new to him as well.

“We don’t know. Not for certain,” Anderson admits, and Shepard’s eyes narrow.

“What else could it be? We know they’re coming.”

Anderson sighs. “If I knew for sure…”

“If it is them, you know we’re not ready,” Shepard says, and it’s hard not to pull the I told you so card. “Not by a long shot.”

Anderson just shakes his head. “Tell that to the defense committee.”

“The council, the defense committee… we both know that’s a waste of time,” Shepard says. “Unless we’re trying out a new strategy of talking the Reapers to death. They’ve never listened to me in the past.”

“They’re scared,” Anderson says. “It’s easier to blame Saren and the Geth, to dismiss Sovereign as a one-off threat, to pat ourselves on the back for defeating the Collectors and be done with it all. The Reapers are far bigger than anyone wants to think about.”

“That’s no excuse,” Shepard says, all of the old frustrations coming back. “Pretending it’s not happening isn’t going to make it go away.”

“None of them have seen what you’ve seen,” Anderson points out. “It’s less real for them. You’ve faced down an actual Reaper. Hell, you spoke to one and then blew the damn thing up. You’ve seen how the Collectors were harvesting us for their gain, you’ve see what they plan to do to us. You know more about this enemy than anyone.”

“Right,” Shepard says, eyes narrowing as the pent-up frustration and anger at the past six months—hell, the past few years—starts to boil over. “Is that why they grounded me? Took away my ship? Is that why they’ve always been so great about listening to me in the past?”

“You know that’s not fair, Shepard,” Anderson says, pausing to look her in the eyes, and for a moment, she feels like a child being lectured by a parent. “Hundreds of thousands of batarians died when you blew up that relay.”

Shepard bites back a sigh. “I know. You don’t think I would have done anything else, if I’d had the choice? But it was that or let the Reapers come right in through our back door. I thought if I bought us some time…”

Well. She’d thought that after seeing the Collector base, after destroying it and learning the truth about how the Reapers and Harbinger were behind it all, and then dealing with Object Rho… she’d hoped that maybe finally, someone would listen to her when she warned of imminent Reaper invasion, but all they’d done was put her on trial for working with Cerberus and for destroying the entire Bahak system.

“I know, Shepard,” Anderson says, his voice gentle. “And so does the committee. If they hadn’t believed you about that, you would have been court-martialed and left to rot in the brig.”

“Your good word probably didn’t hurt, either,” Shepard mutters.

“I trust you,” Anderson says. “And so does the committee.”

Then why the hell does no one ever listen to me? she thinks. Instead, she just sighs and shakes her head. “I’m no politician, Anderson. We both know I’m not the most… tactful. I’m just a soldier.”

Hell, she wasn’t even that anymore.

“I don’t need you to be tactful.” Anderson picks up the pace again and Shepard follows after him. “I just need you to do whatever the hell it takes to stop these Reapers.”

What the fuck do you think I’ve been trying to do? she thinks, but she doesn’t say it aloud. It’s not Anderson’s fault; he’s always believed her, even when her claims admittedly could be seen as outlandish. But the stakes are too high for her to be nice or gentle, and she can’t help how goddamn weary she is. And the real battle hasn’t even started yet.

They pass through the doors into the anteroom before the courts, and Shepard can’t help but stand up a little straighter, tighten the pins in her hair just a little more. Even James, who isn’t involved in this, straightens up slightly and salutes the officer at the desk.

“They’re expecting the two of you,” the officer says. “I’ll take you there.”

“Good luck in there, Shepard,” James says, offering her a handshake. “If anyone can pull this off, it’s you.”

“Thanks, James,” she says, almost wishing he could come in with her. He’d been a steadfast ally and friend these past six months, and if it came down to an argument with the committee—which, knowing how these things had gone in the past, it likely would—she could use another person on her side.

“Anderson.”

The voice, husky and low and achingly familiar cuts through Shepard’s thoughts and she freezes, afraid of what she might find if she turns around. So instead she stares resolutely ahead at the wall, but whether it’s genuine hurt or petty anger keeping her from turning around and facing him, she’s not quite sure.

“Shepard.”

At the sound of his voice addressing her, Shepard bites back a sigh, equal parts longing and frustration. Carefully maintaining a neutral expression, she turns around and sees him standing there.

She knew it would be, she’d recognize that voice anywhere, but there was still a tiny part of her that hoped maybe she wouldn’t have to deal with this right now. But of course, as per usual, the universe was against her.

“Kaidan?” she says, the word coming out as more of a question than she intended, as if he might be someone, anyone else.

“How’d it go in there, Major?” Anderson asks.

Shepard flinches, visibly flinches at that remark, and she wonders if she’s imagining it, but she swears she can see Kaidan’s jaw clench. Major? Since when was Kaidan a Major?

“Okay, I think,” Kaidan says, ignoring Shepard’s reaction. “Hard to know for sure, they don’t give much away. I’m just waiting for orders and assignment now.”

“Major?” Shepard asks, trying—but if she were to be perfectly honest, failing—to keep her voice carefully neutral, as if she were just a colleague, just someone casually interested in this news.

“You hadn’t heard?” Anderson raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“I’m a bit… out of the loop these days,” Shepard forces out through ground teeth.

“Sorry, ma’am, didn’t mean to keep you out of the loop,” Kaidan says, but he avoids looking her directly in the eyes.

Shepard forces a smile, wishing she could scream instead, and knowing that she can’t keep the hurt out of her eyes. Ma’am? When was the last time he’d called her ma’am? Sometime long ago, back when they still thought Saren was just a rogue spectre and the biggest threat they had to deal with.

Long before they’d ever admitted their feelings for each other. Even as they became friends, Shepard had discouraged his formality, insisting he at least call her Commander, if he couldn’t manage Shepard. She’d been Commander, and then Shepard, and then Lily, and now she was ma’am?

“I’m sure you had your reasons, Major,” she says, her voice so icy that Anderson glances between the two of them with a slightly concerned look, but they have bigger concerns right now.

“Yeah, I… I suppose I did,” Kaidan admits, still not looking her in the eye, but then he pauses. “Still, it’s… it’s good to see you.”

Much as she wants to hear those words, there’s a part of Shepard that chafes at that. If it’s so good to see me, why didn’t you ever visit me when I was under house arrest? Why did you never make contact with me? Why have you been ignoring me so resolutely, despite everything?

She could have really used a friend these past six months, but there had been nothing but radio silence from him.

The last thing she wants or needs right now is false hope, so she steels her heart against those words, turning instead to face the officer who was approaching them.

“Admiral. Major. They’re ready for you,” she says.

“Come on.” Anderson turns to leave and Shepard pauses just a moment, looking at Kaidan, who had turned to look at the officer as well. But then he turns, facing her, and finally looks her in the eyes as he offers her a hesitant half-smile, and she wishes his expression wasn’t so hard to read.

Swallowing down the complicated feelings that arise with that taunting smile, she brushes past him to follow Anderson, but not before she hears James speak up behind her.

“You know the Commander?”

“I used to,” Kaidan replies, and Shepard bites the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions in check.

How dare he act as if it’s she who’s changed? How dare he act as if she’s a mystery, as if she hasn’t made every effort to prove to him that she’s still the woman he loved? How dare he tell her to her face that it’s good to see her, and then admit he doesn’t even know her anymore?

But she needs a clear head to deal with the defense committee, so she takes a deep breath, smooths down the edges of her shirt, and follows Anderson into the room.

“Admiral Anderson. Shepard.” One of the senior committee members greets the two of them as they walk into the room.

“What’s the situation?” Shepard asks. “Why did you want to see me?”

“Ah… we were hoping maybe you could tell us.” The same committee member offers up a sheepish smile, as if he realized the irony of asking for her help now, after they’d dismissed her so many times in the past.

An officer hands Shepard a datapad and she scrolls through the reports, frowning. Kar’shan was reportedly under bombardment by some mysterious, lethal force. Taetrus had gone dark, and the Turian Hierarchy had officially declared themselves to be at war.

“The reports coming in are unlike anything we’ve seen,” another council member was saying. It’s not just what you see there, whole colonies have gone dark and we’ve lost contact with anything outside of the Sol Relay.”

“Whatever this is, it’s incomprehensibly powerful,” the third council member says, folding his hands in front of him and frowning. “It’s taken us by surprise and completely overwhelmed us.”

Maybe if you’d listened to me, it wouldn’t have overwhelmed us quite so much, she thinks bitterly, but now is not the time to be petty.

Sighing, Shepard looks up from the datapad and squares her shoulders. “You brought me here to confirm what you already know, to confirm what I’ve been saying for years. The Reapers are here.”

There was an uncomfortable silence among the council members before finally, one of them turned to Shepard. “Then… how do we stop them?”

We don’t, Shepard couldn’t help but think. As relieved as she was that they were finally listening to her, it felt like too little, too late.

Instead, she shakes her head. “It’s not that simple. This isn’t about strategy or tactics, this is about survival. The Reapers are more advanced than us. More powerful. More intelligent. They outdo us in every way. They’ll never fear us, and they’ll never take pity on us.”

She looks in the eyes of every council member as she speaks, making sure they understand the full weight of her words. If they’d listened to her before, it would have still been a nearly impossible fight. After all, how could you prepare for something like this?

But now, when the Reapers are here, on their doorstep? They had very little to stand on.

“But… there must be a way,” one council member says, tears shining in her eyes. “Something. Anything.”

Shepard pauses, considering. “If we have any hope of defeating them, we have to stand together. Everyone in this goddamn galaxy has to unite and work together if we’re going to survive this.”

“That’s it? That’s your plan?” One council member was already shaking his head.

Well, maybe if you’d listened to me earlier, we could have come up with a better plan, she thinks, but before she can think of a slightly more diplomatic way of saying that, an officer monitoring the screens pipes up.

“Admiral, we’ve lost contact with Luna Base.” Her eyes are wide, voice shaky.

“The moon?” Even Anderson, who’s believed Shepard this whole time, sounds surprised. “They couldn’t be that close already…”

“But… we have everything on high alert,” the female council member says. “How’d they get past our defenses?”

“Sir, UK headquarters has visual,” the first officer says. Shakily, she taps in a command on the screen in front of her, and static lights up on the monitor.

The image clears up, showing a young soldier shouting something into the camera, but it can’t be heard over the static of the connection and noise of his environment. Behind him, there’s nothing but chaos—fires burning as plumes of black smoke rise into the sky.

There’s a bone-chilling metallic screech, an explosion that knocks the soldier down, and then nothing. Signal lost.

It reminds Shepard entirely too much of Eden Prime, and she shakes her head. Why does she always have to arrive to things too late? Is she forever destined to watch chaos and destruction rain, powerless to stop it?

A second later, the signal is restored, the screen splitting to show four, five, half a dozen different images. Reapers.

Reapers on Earth, buildings toppling, panicked news reports, destruction and chaos and death and if only they had listened to her maybe it wouldn’t be quite so bad.

Anderson is the first one to break the silence. “Why haven’t we heard from Admiral Hackett?”

No one knows how to answer that, but Shepard prays that he’s still alive, because if they had any hope of survival, they could use all the help they could get. Especially someone with the power that Hackett commands.

“What do we do?” The council member who speaks is panicked, raw terror in his voice, and despite Shepard’s frustrations at how everyone has ignored her warnings, she feels a bit of sympathy as well.

She knew this was coming, she couldn’t avoid the truth. But when faced with a truth like this, could you really blame people for choosing false hope? And now it was irrefutable, and they all had to face the same truth she’d faced when she went face to face with Sovereign.

The Reapers were coming for them, and it was going to be bigger than anything they’d ever faced before.

“We do the only thing we can do,” Shepard says, gesturing at the monitor, where an image of a Reaper still lingers. “We fight, or we die.”

“We should get to the Normandy,” Anderson says. “We’ll need her in this fight.”

Before Shepard can even process that, even think about what it would mean to be back on her ship again—or question whether or not she was still under house arrest and if Anderson included her when he said ‘we,’— a low, rumbling sound breaks the silence.

A it gets louder and louder, everyone exchanges panicked looks, hoping it isn’t what they fear, but knowing it most likely is.

“Oh my god,” the female council member whispers, voice full of horror, and Shepard looks out the large floor-to-ceiling windows in time to see orange lightning flash across the sky.

Metal claws sink into view, and a laser cuts through the landscape with a high-pitched buzzing noise, a sound that Shepard recognizes far too well from the fight against Sovereign so long ago.

“Move!” she shouts as the Reaper comes fully into view. “Go go go!”

She’s already running by the time the blast hits, shattering the windows, toppling the pedestal where the Alliance council members sat. With their backs to the blast, they’re not so lucky.

Shepard dodges debris, throwing up a barrier to try and shield herself from the worst of it, but six months of no proper biotic training and she’s gotten a bit rusty in her skills. The shockwave hits next, hard enough that her barrier is useless, and she’s tossed against the back wall like a rag doll, everything going black.

Everything is blurry and hazy and her head is throbbing as she wavers somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, but distantly, she hears Anderson calling for her.

“Shepard! Come on, Shepard, get up!”

Groaning, she opens her eyes and props herself up on an elbow, accepting Anderson’s hand as he helps her up. The room is destroyed, the council members all dead, several small fires burning.

“Here, take this.” Anderson hands her his spare gun. It’s been six months since she’s held one, the longest she’s gone without fighting since before she joined the Alliance, but some things are like second nature to her.

“This is Admiral Anderson,” he’s saying into his comms. “Is anyone there? Report in! Major Alenko, is that you? What’s your status?”

Kaidan. In all the chaos of the Reapers, she’d nearly forgotten about him. Please let him be okay, she thinks. From the bits of the one-sided conversation she can hear from Anderson, it seems like he is, which is a relief.

“We can’t raise the Normandy from here,” Anderson says, still on comms. “You’ll have to contact them, and we’ll meet you at the landing zone. Anderson out.”

Shepard walks out to where the windows used to be, where there’s now just a giant hole, and stares out at the landscape. There are multiple Reapers, their laser beams cutting through buildings with that eerie whine.

The wholesale destruction that the Reapers are inflicting upon the landscape is bigger than even Shepard could have imagined, smoke and ash from distant fires filling the air, and she’s paralyzed as she watches it all. It’s too late, she thinks. We’re too late.

“Come on, Shepard.” Anderson is at her side, gently grabbing her elbow and leading her towards the edge. “Kaidan’s headed to the Normandy, they’ll pick us up if we can get to the spaceport.”

He pauses for a moment and shakes his head. “These things are massive up close.”

She follows him out of the room, onto a ledge below, picking her way carefully across the thin metal beams, trying not to look down, trying not to look at the Reapers, trying to do something other than panic.

“How do you stop something so massive?” Anderson asks, but Shepard knows it’s a rhetorical question. Or at least, she hopes it is, because she’s goddamn tired of being the one everyone turns to for answers.

She knows this war has only begun, she knows that she’s still Commander Shepard in the eyes of many, she knows that she has by far the most experience fighting Reapers. And so she knows that she will continue to be that person, but right now, she just wants to let loose—use her biotics to pick up the biggest object she can and toss it halfway across the room, hit a punching bag until it falls off its hooks, she doesn’t care. Just something.

She follows Anderson over the rooftops, dodging Reaper beams and stray debris. After several minutes in silence—the whine of Reaper lasers and the sound of burning buildings not withstanding—Anderson gets another comm message.

“Major, do you read me? I’m patching Shepard in,” he says.

Kaidan’s voice comes over the comms, interrupted by steady bursts of gunfire. “We’re almost to the Normandy. I’ve got Lieutennt Vega with me, but we’re taking heavy fire.”

“We’re about five minutes out,” Anderson says, but there’s no response from Kaidan, just static. “Major? Major, do you read? Damnit!”

Please stay safe, Shepard thinks. Even if you still hate me, just stay alive.

“Husks!” Anderson calls out, and Shepard shudders when she sees the luminescent blue creatures crawling up the side of the building.

She empties her clip into them, taking them down before they can reach the rooftop, but they keep coming and soon she’s out of ammo. Despite the chaos, despite the worry over Kaidan, she grins.

“Time to have a bit of fun.” She hasn’t had a chance to properly flex her biotic muscles in so long. She catches a group of them in a singularity, then knocks them back with a shockwave, the biotic explosion ripping them apart.

With her biotics and Anderson’s years of experience, they make short work out of the rest of the husks, but there’s no time to celebrate. A Reaper beam hits the small room next to where Shepard and Anderson are, and Shepard barely ducks in time as glass explodes out everywhere.

“You okay?” Anderson call out and Shepard groans in response as she picks herself up. The ladder off the side of the rooftop has been destroyed in the blast, leaving them with the only option of venturing into the room that had just been hit. Inside, thick, acrid smoke fills the air, and Shepard coughs and gasps, trying to get enough fresh air to breathe.

“God, what a mess…” Shepard shakes her head as she takes it all in. It’s only been what, fifteen minutes since the Reapers attacked? And already so much death, so much devastation. How were they going to survive?

“We need to keep going and find a way out of here,” Anderson says gently, placing a hand on her shoulder, and Shepard nods.

There’s a door at the back of the room that leads out of there, but it’s jammed, stuck in a half open position. With a grunt, Shepard manages to force it open, though she knows she won’t be able to hold it for long.

“Through here!” she calls out and Anderson goes through first, but Shepard pauses before following, the faint sound of crying distracting her.

“Do you hear that?” she mutters, more to herself than Anderson. Slowly, she turns back, glancing around the room, until she spots the source—a small boy curled up in the airshaft, sniffling.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she says, extending a hand to him. She’s never been much of a kid person, but there’s something about this boy and the scared, vulnerable look in his eyes that makes her heart ache.

It reminds her of herself as a child.

“Everyone’s dying,” he whimpers, and Shepard wishes there was something she could say, but what can she say? Everyone is dying.

“Come on, we need to get you out of here,” she says, extending a hand. “Take my hand. I know it’s scary, but I can get you to safety.”

But the boy just shakes his head. “You can’t save me.”

“Shepard, through here!” Anderson calls out. “We need to get to the Normandy before things get worse.”

“Just a second!” Shepard calls out over her shoulder, but when she turns back to the boy again, to try and figure out how to convince him he has to come with her, he’s gone.

Shepard blinks and rubs her eyes. Was she hallucinating? Maybe she hit her head harder than she thought in that explosion. But there’s no time to worry about that right now, because everything around them is burning and somewhere out there, Kaidan and James are waiting for them, holding off Reaper forces.

Hopefully. Hopefully they are still out there. They have to be.

“This whole place is a goddamned mess,” Anderson grunts as he struggles to lift some debris that’s fallen across their path.

Shepard doesn’t say anything as she uses her biotics to help clear the path, still thinking about the child that may or may not have actually been there.

“Every minute, every second that these machines are here, thousands of innocent people die,” Anderson says, continuing onward. “I won’t be responsible for that.”

Shepard follows with a sigh. “I know. It’s always hard in war, knowing that no matter how hard you try, you can’t save everyone. But this? This is even worse; this is unlike anything we’ve ever seen.”

“Exactly,” Anderson says. “You’ve saved a lot of people in your time, Shepard. But you said it, this is bigger than anything we’ve faced before. If only the Reapers were as easy to deal with as batarians.”

Shepard laughs at that, more out of the absurdity of the idea than actual humor. She’d earned her place in the Alliance through her actions during the Blitz. Back then, as a young, green soldier, she’d thought that single-handedly holding off batarian invaders was the hardest thing she’d have to do.

Sure, there’d be plenty more fights, but what could be harder than rallying a ragtag group of colonists to fight against batarian pirates, and then single-handedly holding them off when the colonists fell back?

But then Saren happened. And the Geth. And Sovereign. And the Collectors, and Harbinger and Object Rho and learning about the Alpha Relay, and now the actual Reaper invasion that she’d been trying to stop for years.

What she wouldn’t give for a simple batarian pirate raid.

“They hit so fast,” Anderson says, bringing her back to the present. “I thought we’d have more time before… this.”

Maybe if the Council had actually listened to me, she thinks. Maybe if people had heeded my warning more than three years ago.

Instead, she just shrugs. “We knew they were coming.” Or at least I did.

“And yet they still just cut through our defenses as if it were nothing,” Anderson remarks and again, Shepard has to restrain herself from pointing out that if people had actually fucking listened to her, maybe their defenses would have been better, maybe they wouldn’t have been overwhelmed so fast, maybe they would have had more time.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. There’s no point in dwelling on maybes.  It is what it is, and that’s something everyone has to live with. If we live through this. There’s no guarantee that humanity will survive.

“We need to get to the Citadel, talk to the Council.” As if he knows that she’s going to protest, Anderson continues on before Shepard can say anything. “You know the fight will be everywhere soon enough. You said it yourself, our only hope is to stand together.”

Shepard sighs. “You sure they’ll help us?”

“No,” Anderson admits. “But you’re a Council Spectre. That has to count for something, right?”

This time, Shepard can’t help herself. “What, like all the times it did before?”

“I know,” Anderson says, offering her a hand to help her across the chasm. “But it’s different now. The Reapers are here, we have indisputable proof.”

Shepard sighs and follows Anderson outside and down towards the ground. Somehow, things have only gotten worse in the time they’ve spent making their way through the ruined building.

There’s a Reaper right in front of them, and Shepard isn’t sure if she wants to scream, cry, or unload her thermal clip into it and then hit it with her most powerful warp. Maybe all of the above. But it’s too big of a target, and fortunately, they’re too small of a target, so they continue.

“Major Alenko, are you there?” Anderson says. “We’re in sight of the spaceport, ETA three minutes. How are you holding up?”

“We’ve made it to the Normandy,” Kaidan says over the comms, and Shepard breathes a sigh of relief. It’s good to hear his voice. “But we’re taking heavy fire and—oh god. They’re trying to take down the dreadnought.”

The line goes dead.

“Damnit,” Anderson says. “They’re in trouble, we have to hurry.”

But before anyone can go anywhere, the Reaper dreadnought blasts a building not too far from them, close enough that when it hits like a nuclear blast, the shockwave knocks loose the platform Shepard and Anderson had been standing on, sending them tumbling down the slope.

Shepard hits the ground hard, grunting as her shoulder and hip take the brunt of the impact. She’s too hyped up on adrenaline to be in pain right now, but she’s going to feel that tomorrow, especially since all she’s wearing is a tank top and cargo pants.

What she wouldn’t give for some proper armor right about now.

They’re halfway there when Anderson points to something up ahead. “We’ve got incoming!”

Shepard dives behind a fallen piece of debris, already throwing out a singularity before she even gets a good look at the incoming hostiles.

“What are those things?” Anderson mutters and Shepard shudders. Coming towards them are a group of grotesque creatures, in some ways reminiscent of husks, but something entirely different all the same. Knowing the origin of husks, she’s not too sure she wants to know what these new creatures are.

“Don’t know, don’t have time to care right now.” Shepard says, hitting her singularity with a warp to take care of the hostiles. Between the steady rhythm of Anderson’s gunfire and the low thrum of her biotics, she loses herself in the fight and it feels good to let go like that. She can almost pretend it’s just another fight, just business as usual, and not something new, something incomprehensibly big.

In short order, the hostiles are taken care of, and there’s an odd calm that settles over the battlefield. Above them and around them, the Reapers are still destroying the city, people are still dying, but the immediate threat to them has temporarily ceased. It feels wrong, somehow, as if everything around them should be chaos to reflect what’s happening elsewhere.

“Look over there,” Anderson says, gesturing to what’s little more than a pile of rubble sitting a few feet ahead. “Looks like a downed gunship. See if you can find a radio, we might have better luck contacting the Normandy with a stronger signal.”

Shepard picks her way through the rubble, trying not to think too much about their current situation, or what might have happened to the people flying the gunship. One step at a time, she tells herself. We will take this one step at a time and we can win this war.

But what if they can’t?

“Shepard, over here!” Anderson calls, and Shepard is back on task again. “I found a radio.”

After a moment of fiddling, the radio turns on and both Anderson and Shepard breathe a sigh of relief. At least one thing is going right.

“Normandy, do you read?” Anderson asks. “Normandy, come in!”

A moment later, the bittersweet sound of Kaidan’s voice. “Admiral, we read you. What’s your location?”

“By a downed gunship in the harbor,” Anderson says. “I’m activating its distress signal. Things are getting dicey down here. What’s your situation? Major?”

There’s nothing but static, and Anderson growls. “Damnit, I lost the signal. We’ll have to hope the distress beacon does its job and they can find us.”

“And soon,” Shepard says, looking to the horizon where a new wave of hostiles is approaching. “We’ve got company!”

“You take point, I’ll cover you,” she adds, forgetting for a moment that she’s not even a commander anymore, and with Anderson, not one of her former squadmates. “Uh… if that’s okay, sir.”

Luckily, Anderson doesn’t mind the breach of conduct. “I would have suggested the same thing.”

While Anderson wreaks havoc with his assault rifle, Shepard only fires the occasional shot, relying mostly on her biotics. A well-placed singularity here to keep the hostiles helplessly floating, a throw there when they start getting too close.

“These bastards keep coming,” Anderson mutters. “I hope the Normandy gets here soon.”

“You and me both,” Shepard agrees. As good as it feels to use her biotics again, after six months of house arrest, she’s already aware of the toll it’s taking on her body to throw out her whole arsenal of biotic skills with no warmup.

“Look out!” Anderson calls, but a second too late, and Shepard doesn’t see the incoming hostile raising its gun until it’s already fired, and two bullets strike her left arm.

She clenches her teeth, against the pain, but against the frustration as well—it’s the type of wound that would, at worst, have caused a bit of bruising as it struck her armor, but she doesn’t have armor.

So instead she’s bleeding from her goddamned arm, and it’s a fairly superficial wound that medi-gel will easily fix, but she shouldn’t have to deal with it in the first place; she shouldn’t have to deal with the Reapers, not like this, not without a plan and preparation and support, but here they are.

Shepard lets loose a noise that’s half battle cry, and half growl of frustration, and expels all her built up biotic energy in one big blast, flaring out away from her, which instantly destroys a small group of hostiles.

But they’re still coming, and there’s no end in sight, and just when Shepard is starting to wonder how they’re going to even get through this— the very beginning of what will be a long and hard war— there’s a beautiful sound over the radio.

“Cavalry has arrived!” Joker’s voice comes in loud and clear, and a moment later, the Normandy swoops overhead, a blast from her guns easily taking out the rest of the hostiles. “Boom, baby!”

“About time!” Anderson remarks, but Shepard is already running.

“Let’s go!” Seeing her ship again is a balm for her aching heart, and the pain coursing through her body is temporarily forgotten as she scrambles up the side of the downed gunship to get to higher ground.

Once the Normandy is a few feet away, she takes a running leap, landing hard, but Kaidan is there, offering her a hand up, and damn if he doesn’t look good, gun at the ready and hazel eyes steely with determination.

It takes her a moment to remember that he likely still hates her.

“Welcome aboard, Shepard,” he says, and Shepard bites her lip. She knows now is not the time for personal drama, the stakes are far too high to worry about whether or not her ex-boyfriend still hates her or whether or not there’s any chance they might reconcile, but… it’s hard not to be frustrated.

Why does he constantly have to send such mixed signals?

“Anderson, come on!” Shepard calls out as Anderson approaches.

Anderson doesn’t say anything for a moment, he just looks over at a passing Alliance shuttle, marines in full gear inside, ready to fight, and when he turns back to her, she knows what he’s going to say. She knows it, but that doesn’t mean she wants to hear it.

“Shepard, I’m not going,” Anderson says. “You saw those men a moment ago. You’ve seen the resistance on the ground. There’s a million more like them out there, and they need a leader.”

“We’re in this fight together, Anderson,” Shepard says, but she knows once his mind is made up, there’s no changing it. They’ve always been alike in that regard.

Anderson shakes his head. “It’s a fight we can’t win, not without help. You know that. We need that help. You said it yourself, we need every species to present a united front if we even have a hope of defeating the Reapers. We need you to gather the forces. You and the Normandy are our best shot at that, the people know who you are and respect you.”

“But sir—”

“Go the Council. Get their support, convince them to help us,” Anderson says, cutting Shepard’s protests off.

“And if they don’t listen?” Shepard asks. “Like all the times before?”

“Make them listen,” Anderson says. “Do whatever it takes. Now go, that’s an order!”

Unable to give up without one more last-ditch effort at convincing Anderson to join them, Shepard raises an eyebrow. “I don’t take orders from you anymore, remember? I’m not Alliance.”

“Consider yourself reinstated… Commander.” Anderson pulls her dog tags out of his pocket and tosses them to her as she shakes her head.

How long had he been carrying those around? Had he been trying to get her reinstated, before the Reapers attacked, or did he carry them around just in case? In case of emergency, open pocket and reinstate Lily Shepard as an Alliance Commander?

But none of that matters anymore, and Shepard slips the dog tags around her neck. It feels right, having them there. She’s been a true blue marine since the day she enlisted on her 18^th birthday; even when she had an uneasy partnership with Cerberus, she was still always Alliance at heart.

“You know what you have to do,” Anderson says, his voice quieter now, and Shepard nods, trying to quell the tears rising in her eyes, trying not to think of this as a goodbye.

“I do. I will be back for you, and I’ll bring every fleet I can.” She starts to turn, not wanting Anderson to see her watery eyes, but she pauses. “Good luck.”

Anderson nods. “You too, Shepard.”

It hurts to leave him there, but Shepard knows Anderson is more than capable. Over the years, he’s become more than her boss, more than even a mentor, he’s become the father figure she never knew, but desperately needed.

When Shepard was a new recruit, scared and vulnerable and filled with anger, Anderson was there to shape her into a proper soldier, to challenge her and guide her and give her purpose, a way to channel her anger.

When he’d been given command of the Normandy, he’d hand-picked her as his XO, and she’d been proud to have the chance to serve under him. And when Saren and the Geth happened, when everything went to shit… he’d been a guiding force in her life.

He’d been the only one—aside from her crew, of course—to believe her about the Reapers. He’d been a steady presence in her life when she needed it the most, and she owes so much of who she is today to him. And it hurts to leave him, but she knows they each have their own role to fill in this war.

As Shepard walks up the plank and the Normandy starts to fly off, she and Kaidan make eye contact, and she holds it for a second. There’s so much in his eyes, in his expression, that’s unreadable and she doesn’t know what to make of it, of him, of anything.

Letting out a long sigh, Shepard turns to face the outside, to get one last glimpse at Earth. Because it’s not just her mentor and father figure she’s leaving behind, but her home. Funny how when she was younger, she wanted nothing more than to escape Earth, to leave and never look back, and now she can barely stand leaving.

Everything around them is on fire. Buildings are falling, explosions are rocking the landscape, people are crying. Alliance marines are trying to herd civilians into shuttles, to get them away from the carnage, but Shepard knows it’s not enough.

Soon, there will be nowhere to flee to. Soon, everything will be this.

Out of the corner of her eye, Shepard spies the boy from earlier, staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at a Reaper as it fires up its attack. An Alliance marine helps him into a waiting shuttle while another fires at the Reaper, but Shepard knows it will be ineffective, it is ineffective.

No. Please. She knows that countless children will die, are dying, have died, that one won’t make a difference, and that even if the Reaper hits a different target, it will likely result in many deaths. But that boy, that boy with the scared, angry eyes, the boy that reminds her of herself when she was scared and angry growing up in the slums of NYC… just not him.

The shuttle takes off and the Reaper’s eye follows it, the laser cutting it in two, and then the other one in front of it. As they explode and the debris falls down on the ground, Shepard can’t help but cry out.

She prays that this, too, is an illusion, but this time when she closes her eyes and opens them again, all the destruction and chaos and death is still there. Next to her, Kaidan remains stoic, and she envies him his composure. How can he stay so calm when she’s falling apart? It’s infuriating, but whether she’s mad at him for not showing emotion, or herself for being too emotional, she’s not sure.

Shaking it off, she turns to enter the Normandy proper as the airlock closes and Joker starts to take off. She’s furious, she’s heartbroken, she’s a bundle of pain and raw edges being held together by nothing but sheer determination, but none of that matters right now.

Right now, she has a galaxy to save. She has another council to convince and entire nations to sway to her side. She just hopes it’s enough to stop the Reapers, enough to survive.

She hopes that she’s enough.

Chapter Text

After stopping briefly by the med-bay to grab some medi-gel for her arm, Shepard makes her way down to the cargo hold, her pace quick and her expression determined. Vega is right on her heels, and while she can understand his desire to be kept in the loop, she doesn’t want to field all his questions right now— doesn’t know how to field them.

“What the hell’s going on?” he’s asking her as he jogs to keep up. “Where’s Anderson? Where are we going?”

Shepard doesn’t answer, just continues moving forward. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time. Walk towards the armory, grab her old gear, suit up. Then maybe she’ll start to feel a little more capable.

“Hey!” James yells. “Answer me!”

“We’re leaving,” Shepard says, sparing a brief glance over her shoulder at James.

Kaidan’s already in the armory, checking the sights on his gun, and he looks up when James yells, but doesn’t say anything.

“Leaving? Leaving where? And where the fuck is Anderson?” James asks again.

“Anderson wants us to go to the Citadel,” Shepard says, taking a deep breath to calm her emotions. “Rally the other Citadel races, get their support for the coming war.”

“Bullshit,” James says, crossing his arms. “Anderson wouldn’t order us to leave.”

Shepard bristles at his tone and has to remind himself that he’s just as scared as she is, but she’s his commander, damnit, and the last thing she needs right now is someone questioning her decisions, because it’s taking every ounce of strength she has to leave Earth.

“Do you think I like it, either?” she says, her voice a quiet contrast to James’ brashness. “But we don’t have a choice. If we don’t get help, this war’s already lost before it’s begun.”

“Forget it,” James scoffs. “Drop me off someplace, then, ‘cause I’m not leaving. I refuse to abandon Earth.”

“Enough!” Shepard yells, all her anger and frustration having finally reached a boiling point. “Don’t you think I’d rather stay and fight, too? Earth is my home, Vega, this is just as personal for me as it is for you, so don’t you think for a second that I’m abandoning this fight or making this decision lightly.”

She pauses, her chest heaving with her ragged breaths from her emotional outburst, while Kaidan remains silent, ever unreadable, and James just looks angry. “We are going to the Citadel. If you want out, you can catch a ride back from there.”

“Commander!” the voice comes over the ship’s intercom, and Shepard smiles slightly.

“Joker, is that you?”

“Alive and kicking, Commander,” he says. “Well, metaphorically speaking, because… you know… brittle bones. Anyways, I’ve got an emergency transmission from Admiral Hackett coming in for you.”

Shepard breathes a sigh of relief. No one had heard from Hackett, they weren’t sure what his status was, and Shepard feared the worst. The fifth fleet Admiral was an incredibly capable soldier and leader, but he was still just one man, and the Reapers were many.

“Patch it through.”

“Shepard.” Admiral Hackett’s voice comes through, but it’s filled with static and the video is blurry. “We’ve sustained heavy losses… force was overwhelming… no way to defeat them with conventional weapons.”

“Anderon’s already ordered me to the Citadel,” Shepard says. “We’ll rally support from the council.”

“Something more important,” Hackett says. “First… need you to go to the Alliance outpost on Mars… ‘fore we lose control of the whole system.”

Mars? Shepard wonders what might be so important there, but it’s not her place to question, and it’s certainly not the time, so she just salutes. “Roger that, sir.”

“…researching the Prothean Archives, with Dr. T’Soni,” Hackett says. “… found a way to stop the Reapers… only way to stop them… contact soon. Hackett out.”

Liara? Well, at least it would be nice to see her old friend again. And a way to stop the Reapers? It’s too tempting to think about, so she doesn’t, not allowing herself to hope this will be easy because she knows it will be anything but. “Joker, set a course for the Mars Archives.”

“Mars?” The surprise in Joker’s voice echoes the surprise that Shepard felt when Hackett mentioned it. “Roger that.”

“Why Mars?” Kaidan questions. “What does he think we’ll find there?”

 “I don’t know,” Shepard says. “He said Liara’s been researching something to do with the Prothean Archives. I don’t know what, but if it helps us win this war…”

She trails off and picks up her old N7 chest plate, the one she had custom made to fit her, what seems like a lifetime ago. Back before she died, back before Cerberus resurrected her, back when she knew who she was.

Now? She’s not so sure some days. But this armor is her tether, this armor is what reminds her that despite Cerberus, despite dying, she is still Commander Shepard. Alliance Navy. N7 trained.

Somehow, the day she passed N6 training and was awarded N7 status feels like both yesterday and a million years ago. She was one of the youngest recruits to ever make it that far; god, she was so young back then.

She had been so eager to prove herself, during those early years— she felt like she had to, to make up for her first 18 years of life, when she ran with gangs and petty criminals. She was going to be different; she was going to be someone important, someone who mattered.

During N6 training, she’d been the last to run out of oxygen. She’d been scavenging and surviving all her life, why should N7 training be any different? It was brutal and painful and the recruits were told over and over that failing wasn’t shameful, that N7 training was designed to weed out the very best of the best, and even making it through the first few ranks was impressive.

But failure had never been an option for Lily Shepard. And so, she’d pushed on, she’d fought and survived and when she graduated on Arcturus Station, she’d stood tall and proud. Finally, she was doing something with her life. Finally, she was proving that she was capable, that she was meant for this, that she belonged there.

And now Arcturus Station was destroyed, and the N7 program seemed like a relic of a bygone era. But the armor in Shepard’s hands was a reminder of who she was capable of being, who she used to be, and damned if she wasn’t going down without a fight.

Whatever was on Mars, she’d be ready for it. She had to be.

“Grab your gear,” she says to Kaidan and James. They would find a way to win this war. They had to.

“Commander, no one’s answering,” Joker says over comms as the dusty red planet comes into view of the shuttle. “I’ve been trying to contact them on secure channels, but no go.”

Shepard frowns. “Any signs of Reaper activity?” If the Reapers are already there, if they’re too late again… she doesn’t want to think about that.

“Negative.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” she mutters. “EDI, any thoughts on the matter?”

“The base appears to be online,” EDI says. “It’s possible the inhabitants were evacuated when news of Earth arrived.”

“Maybe,” Shepard says. But something about this just feels… off. Wrong, somehow. “Joker, be ready, just in case. We’ll know for sure soon enough.”

She turns back to sit down, but Kaidan’s there, and she can’t deal with that right now, so instead, she stands by the door. The sooner they can get off this shuttle, the better.

The back of the shuttle feels far too small for the two of them, but Shepard knows the issue is just being in such close proximity to Kaidan. Were it anyone else, it wouldn’t be a problem.

She can count on one hand the number of words he’s said to her since Horizon, and it drives her crazy. Horizon. He sends that letter, that letter which makes her feel like maybe there’s a chance for them still, maybe they can reconcile, but then nothing.

Even when it was all over, even in the six months she spent under house arrest, he’s continued to ignore her. Even though he’s known, this whole time, where she’s been. How hard would it be to at least send a letter, clear the air?

Instead, coldness radiates from him like Alchera, and she can barely stand to be in his presence without shuddering because, if she’s honest—there’s a part of her that still feels that magnetic pull towards him that she always has, but what’s the point if he keeps ignoring her?

At least if he accused her of horrible things again, the way he did on Horizon, she’d know where he stood, and she almost feels like she’d prefer that. The silence, the not knowing, was killing her.

For reasons more than personal drama, she hates that she has to bring him along for this mission. She needs to be able to trust her squad, she needs to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they have her back.

And as much as it pains her to admit it, she’s not sure she can definitively say that about Kaidan.

James lands the shuttle on the surface of the dusty planet a few minutes later and Shepard gazes out at the landscape, trying to make sense of whatever Hackett might be sending them after.

“Still no contact from the base,” he says. “But we’ve got a massive dust storm headed our way, so let’s hope we can find this thing quick.”

“Great,” Shepard mutters. “How long do we have until it hits?”

“Twenty minutes?” James guesses. “Half hour, tops. After that, it’s going to interfere with our comm transmissions and we won’t be able to keep in contact with the Normandy.”

“No time to waste, then,” Shepard says. “Let’s go.” Stepping out of the shuttle, she can see the dust storm on the horizon: a massive, impenetrable wall of dust and debris, impossible to see through.  They’re going to have to hurry.

“Damn, that’s a big storm,” James says, letting out a low whistle. “It looks even bigger in person.”

“Fairly normal for Mars, actually,” Kaidan says. “Dust storms are a common occurrence here.”

“Well I’m glad you’re so optimistic,” James says.

“The way I see it, we’ve got Reapers invading Earth, the station here is offline and we’re on some mysterious mission that’s connected to the Prothean archives—a little dust storm is the least of our worries.”

“Point taken,” James says.

The whole conversation between them is easy, pleasant, and Shepard tries not to grind her teeth in frustration. In the span of a minute, Kaidan has spoken more words to James than he has to her in months. After Horizon, after that letter which gave her a glimmer of hope, but has since gone nowhere, there’s been nothing but radio silence and a perpetual cold shoulder.

She knows that there are far, far more important things at stake than her broken heart and her hurt feelings. But damn if it doesn’t sting a little to hear Kaidan, the old Kaidan, her Kaidan, making easy conversation with James.

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s keep moving.”

The Martian landscape is barren, the buildings that the Alliance has built for the Archives jutting out over red rocks and brown dirt as far as the eye can see. And yet, despite its emptiness, there’s something oddly beautiful about it, in an unsettling sort of way. Maybe it’s just the fact that Shepard grew up in a crowded city, used to the constant hustle and bustle of people, but there’s something about the quiet that discomfits her. Something about it feels eerie, feels wrong.

She hopes it’s just paranoia, but with the station down, she has a sinking suspicion that something genuinely is wrong, and she prays they’re not too late to rendezvous with Liara and figure out what it is that Hackett wants them to retrieve.

The three of them move across the barren landscape in silence for several minutes, guns drawn, on the lookout for anything suspicious. It’s when Shepard drops down a ladder embedded into the side of a rock that she notices something lying next to a building, a second before James does.

“What’s that over there?” he asks.

Not something, someone she realizes with a jolt of horror. A dead body.

“That’s Alliance Sergeant Reeves,” Kaidan says, his voice tight with emotion. “Looks like he didn’t put up a fight before he died. What’s going on here?”

Shepard swears softly under her breath. “We have to keep moving. If we can, I’ll let… someone know about this, so he can get a proper burial.”

The words feel like false promises on her lips, and she hates how uncertain everything is right now. The Reapers are threatening the fate of the entire galaxy, Sergeant Reeves was just one poor, dead soldier in what was going to be a long stream of them. If they failed, it meant total annihilation, but even if they succeeded, Shepard couldn’t imagine they’d get through it without heavy casualties. They’d already had heavy casualties.

Could anyone be spared to come back to collect Sergeant Reeves’ body? Could anyone be spared to notify his next of kin, to give him a proper burial, to make sure he was honored the way every fallen soldier should be? Were his next of kin even still alive themselves?

Shuddering, Shepard tries to shake off the unease that’s settled deep down into her bones. A lot of good people were going to die in this war, and they weren’t going to be able to honor the fallen the way they should. She hates it, and she knows James and Kaidan hate it, too, but they have to move on, they have to leave poor Sergeant Reeves behind.

“Something’s definitely not right here,” James says. “What killed the Sergeant?”

“I don’t know,” Shepard says, shaking her head. “But keep a low profile until we find out, and stay on guard. We don’t know what we’ll find at the Archives.”

“Roger that,” James says. Kaidan is silent, and Shepard once again has to grit her teeth against her frustration—regardless of his feelings for her, she’s the commanding officer for this mission, how hard is it to just confirm he understands her orders?—but she has to assume his silence is an agreement.

They turn away from the fallen Sergeant Reeves and head down a long dirt path that runs adjacent to a sheer cliff face. A few shipping crates are scattered along the path, and in the distance, the circular rooms of the Archives rise over the landscape, but everything is so still, so quiet.

Until a gunshot rings out, shattering the silence.

Shepard holds up a hand and Kaidan and James pause behind her. Silently, she gestures for them to stay low and approach one of the storage crates, so they can get a better look at the situation without revealing themselves. Through the scope of her gun, Shepard can see that down the hill, there’s an armored truck, and next to it, a group of heavily armed soldiers. Kneeling on the ground before them is an unarmed soldier, Alliance by the looks of the armor. On the ground are two more dead bodies.

But who are the attackers? Swinging the scope back towards one of the armed soldiers, Shepard sees something that makes her blood run cold. A black oval with a pointed top and a break in the bottom, set on the backdrop of an orange stripe. Cerberus.

Before she, or anyone else—because surely James and Kaidan are seeing this, too, and Kaidan, god, what must he be thinking right now, what must he be thinking about her?—can react, the soldier Shepard had been looking at places his gun to the temple of the kneeling Alliance soldier and pulls the trigger.

“Holy shit,” James says, and Shepard feels too sick to her stomach to admonish him for talking and potentially giving away their position. “They’re executing them!”

Shepard knows that there’s protocol to follow. There’s at least five or six of the Cerberus soldiers, against Shepard, James and Kaidan. As commanding officer of the mission, Shepard needs to prioritize her own team’s safety; she needs to examine the situation, assess the risks, direct Kaidan and James appropriately, and only engage when a plan of action has been determined.

She needs to not leave cover, let out a sound that is somewhere between battle cry and anguished scream, and hit the nearest soldier with the hardest warp she’s capable of producing-- which is exactly what she does, because she is too blinded by rage to give a damn about protocol right now.

“Well, I guess they know we’re here now,” James mutters as chaos erupts on the battlefield. There’s bullets and grenades flying, and Shepard’s body thrums with power, the adrenaline and raw biotic ability that she possesses singing in her veins, reminding her that she’s alive.

“Lay down your weapons and you won’t be hurt!” one of the soldiers calls out from behind the cover of the armored truck.

Right, Shepard thinks. Because we’ve all seen the compassion you extend to unarmed Alliance soldiers. Instead of dignifying the soldier with a response, she sends a warp around the corner of the truck and relishes the scream when he’s hit, perhaps more than she should.

Beside her, she can feel the biotics radiating from Kaidan, she can feel as he lifts one of the Cerberus soldiers into the air and she finishes him off with a warp. They used to fight like this all the time, in tandem, and it reminds her what a good team they made, back when the world was a simple place, back when Saren and his geth were the biggest threat they had to face.

The battle is over quickly, the handful of Cerberus soldiers being no match for Shepard’s rage, Kaidan’s biotics or James’ skill with assault rifles. There’s a long moment of silence after the last soldier falls, and Shepard can feel Kaidan’s accusatory eyes on her, boring into her, cold and unforgiving.

I am not with Cerberus I am not with Cerberus I am not with Cerberus I am not with Cerberus I am not with Cerberus I am not with Cerberus I am not with Cerberus I am not with Cerberus I am not with Cerberus I am not with Cerberus I am not with Cerberus I—

“Those guys were Cerberus, weren’t they?” James asks, cutting through Shepard’s internal mantra, as if by repeating the words in her head she can make Kaidan understand.

“Sure looked like it,” Shepard says. “I’d recognize that armor anywhere.”

“Cerberus.” Kaidan spits the word out as if it disgusts him just saying it. “What are they doing on Mars?”

“Good question,” Shepard says, trying to run through the possibilities in her mind. What would Cerberus want with the Mars Archives? The last she’d seen of Cerberus was when she told the Illusive Man to go fuck himself and destroyed the Collector base. In all her time with Cerberus—not with them, just using their resources, an important distinction that she has to remind herself of—she’d never known the Illusive Man to express any interest in the Archives.

Their goal was always promoting the advancement of humanity, stopping the Collectors from taking human colonies naturally fell into their ideals. But why the Archives? Why now, after the Reapers attacked? Shepard knew that the Illusive Man thought the Alliance pandered to the aliens too much, and that they weren’t invested enough in stopping the colonies from disappearing.

While Shepard disagreed, she could understand that mentality. But the Reapers weren’t just a threat to humanity, they were a threat to the whole galaxy, and if there was any hope of defeating them, the galaxy had to present a united front. Was Cerberus really so selfish that they would take something from the Archives, likely whatever Hackett sent her after, to try and save humanity above all else? That wasn’t just selfish, it was stupid. Humanity’s best chance at surviving was by allying with everyone else— humans, asari, turians, salarians, krogans, everyone had to unite to stop the Reapers.

“You mean you don’t know?” Kaidan asks, his tone carefully guarded, and it takes Shepard a second to compose herself before she can respond.

“I’m not with them anymore, Kaidan, if that’s what you’re asking,” she says, her tone equally guarded. Two can play this game.

“It wasn’t exactly, but you have to admit it’s a bit, ah… convenient.”

Shepard reels back as if he’d slapped her. “Convenient?”

“You have a history with Cerberus,” Kaidan says, as if he’s pointing out the obvious. “In the past, Cerberus has always stayed out of the way of the Alliance, they’ve stuck to the Terminus Systems and planets on the edge of Alliance space. They’ve always operated on the downlow. But Mars? That’s big, that’s right in the heart of Alliance space. And well, you’re here, they’re here…”

“I…” Shepard opens her mouth and then closes it again. I am not with Cerberus I am not with Cerberus I am not with Cerberus I am not with Cerberus I am not with Cerberus I never was with Cerberus.

“You should know me better than that,” is all she says in the end. “My… partnership, if you want to call it that, with Cerberus was a means to an end. I was never ‘with’ them, and I am most certainly not with them now.”

“Uh guys?” James cuts in. “I hate to break up this little chat, but we’ve got Reapers attacking Earth as we speak and something here Hackett wants us to find, so maybe we should… vamoose?”

“Right,” Shepard says, taking a deep breath to stabilize her emotions. “Come on, let’s go.”

She hears the slightest, almost imperceptible, sigh from Kaidan, but he doesn’t say anything else as he and James fall into line between Shepard as the three of them continue down the dirt path, guns drawn.

“Look out!” Kaidan calls out before they’ve made it far. “Cerberus soldiers up ahead, twelve o’clock.”

Shepard manages to duck behind a spare crate just as the Cerberus soldiers start firing on them. As much as she hates this whole situation, with the Reapers attacking Earth and Cerberus murdering Alliance soldiers, it feels good to be fighting again, after these past six months under house arrest.

“I thought we took care of security!” one of the Cerberus soldiers yells over the noise of gunfire and biotics. “These guys sure as hell don’t fight—or look—like scientists!”

Shepard hits him with a shockwave, knocking him out of cover and James finishes him off. One down, but still too many to go—this group is slightly larger than the last, and they have Shepard pinned down at an awkward angle.

She glances around the battlefield, noting two soldiers bearing down on her position. James and Kaidan have their hands full, so she can’t rely on them, and if the Cerberus soldiers have any brains at all, they’ll divide up and flank her. Which means she needs to act now.

Slipping out from cover, she hits the soldiers with a singularity, then follows it up with a warp, the detonation making a satisfying thwack as the Cerberus troopers are killed. There’s another soldier approaching her head on, and she just smirks to herself. They could at least try to make it challenging. Charging her head on? They should know better than that. She uses her biotics to pull the soldier towards her, then throws him back against one of the armored tanks with bone-crushing force.

It feels good, she feels powerful, but before she can revel in her victory too much, Kaidan’s panicked voice calls out.

“Commander, look out!”

Shepard turns in time to see that while she’d been toying with the troopers in front of her, another one had been sneaking up behind her. He starts firing before she has time to react, before she has time to dive for cover, and the assault rifle rips through her shields in no time. She realizes with a sudden panic that she’s expended too much biotic energy, and can’t access her abilities right now; can’t throw out a shockwave to knock the soldier over or a singularity to pin him in place, can’t even put up a barrier to block the projectiles.

But before any real damage can be done, Kaidan is there in front of her, throwing up a barrier to shield them both. Once they’re both safely guarded, he lets out a growl of frustration and throws out a mass effect, Shepard watches as the soldier arches back in pain and a swirl of purple energy surrounds Kaidan, the very life force of the Cerberus trooper slowly being drained out.

Reave. Since when did Kaidan know how to reave?

Shaking off both the shock of seeing Kaidan wield such a powerful biotic ability and the shock of the Cerberus soldier nearly getting the drop on her, Shepard takes a step back from Kaidan, suddenly angry that he stepped in.

“I’m perfectly capable of using barriers myself,” she snaps. “I had the situation under control.”

If Kaidan is shocked by her angry tone, he hides it well. “Yeah, it sure looked under control. Why didn’t you use a barrier, then?”

Shepard scowls, not wanting to admit that she had been reckless and ran out of biotic power. It was a rookie mistake. The first thing anyone learns with biotic training is how to pace yourself, how to make sure you always have a little in reserve, in case of an emergency. Sure, she still had her gun, but she wouldn’t have been able to incapacitate the soldier before he did considerable damage to her as well. It’s shameful, and she should know better, but she’s not about to admit that to Kaidan.

“I didn’t know you could reave,” she says, changing the subject. “That’s new. Major.”

“It’s, uh, a new skill.” Kaidan has the decency to sound slightly chagrined. “Something I’ve been honing these past two years.” 

He turns to scan the battlefield, clearly uncomfortable with the topic, though whether it’s because of the secrets he’s been keeping from her, or something else, Shepard isn’t sure. 

“I think we’ve got them all,” he says.

“All clear over here,” James says, walking out from behind an armored truck. He pauses, looking around at the fallen bodies. “It doesn’t look like they came here in force. The two groups we’ve run into have both been small, there’s been what, a dozen of them altogether? If that?”

“And only a few vehicles,” Shepard says, glancing around at the armored tanks parked outside the entrance to the Archives. “How did they manage to get rid of security with so few numbers?”

“They must’ve had help from the inside,” Kaidan says, shaking his head in disgust. “The Archives are an Alliance base; this place is heavily fortified. There’s no way you could take it on with anything less than a full battalion.”

“You might be right.” Shepard glances around the battlefield one last time, then jerks her head in the direction of the entrance to the Archives. “Come on, I’m sure there’s more trouble waiting for us inside.”

They head up the ramp into the base, Shepard trying to ignore the feeling of Kaidan’s eyes on her as she taps in the command to shut the airlock and key up the elevator.

“Commander. Shepard. I need a straight answer.”

Shepard grits her teeth together. At least he’s finally talking to her, instead of ignoring her. At least he’s finally called her Shepard, and not Commander—or worse, ma’am—for the first time since Horizon, but she hates how her heart lurches at the use of her name, because she knows, she knows what he’s about to say.

But she has to ask anyways, just in case. “About what?”

“Do you know anything, anything at all, about why Cerberus is here?” he asks, and the tiny glimmer of hope that Shepard was fighting dies instantly. As she thought: he’s still suspicious.

“I know, you said you’re not with them anymore,” he continues, either oblivious to or uncaring of the pain he’s causing her, the toll his distrust—him, of all people, who knows her, who understands her—is taking on her. “But if there’s anything you’re hiding, or anything that maybe they would have mentioned back when you were with them… please, Shepard, this is important.”

“Why do you think I would know anything?” She tries to keep her voice calm, rational, but the fact that he’s practically begging her, as if he really thinks she knows something, but just won’t say it, is equal parts heartbreaking and infuriating and at her core, Lily Shepard is a weak woman. And so her voice wavers, just a little.

“You worked with them!” Kaidan says, his voice growing agitated as well. “More than that. God, Shepard, they… rebuilt you from the ground up. They gave you a ship, resources… they brought you back from the dead. It would be natural to feel some allegiance to them. How am I not supposed to think you might know something?”

“So, because Cerberus brought me back, you blame me for their actions and assume I must know something? Maybe I just should have stayed dead, then, is that what you’re saying?”

Deep down, she knows the words are unfair, and when Kaidan flinches, she almost regrets it. Almost.

“No, that’s not—” Kaidan breaks off with a growl of frustration.

“Let me make one thing clear,” Shepard says. “I do not work for Cerberus. I never worked for them. We formed a temporary alliance to take down the Collectors, and I spent the entire time distancing myself from Cerberus’ operations as much as possible. The Normandy may have flown Cerberus colors, but I ran her like an Alliance ship. The moment I had an opportunity to do so, I severed all ties with Cerberus and haven’t looked back since.”

Kaidan opens his mouth to say something, but Shepard cuts him off before he can.

“I have gladly told the Alliance everything about Cerberus operations and my ‘alliance’ with them. I have told them every single piece of even potentially sensitive data that I learned during my time there.” She pauses, just briefly, just enough to catch her breath and collect herself. “I have had no contact with Cerberus since I destroyed the Collector base and told the Illusive Man exactly what I think of him. And I have no idea why they’re here today or what they want.”

James awkwardly clears his throat, and Shepard has the dignity to feel slightly embarrassed—she’d forgotten that he was still standing there, and here she and Kaidan were, airing out two years’ worth of bad blood and hurt feelings.

“Commander Shepard has been under constant surveillance since coming back to Earth,” he points out. “There’s no way she’s been communicating with Cerberus, Alliance brass would have noticed and stopped her before she could have so much as sent a comm.”

“I guess that’s right,” Kaidan says. “Sorry, Shepard, it’s just—”

Whatever he’d been about to say is cut off by the hiss of air as the airlock finishes sealing. Sighing, Shepard takes off her helmet as the elevator starts to rumble and slowly lifts up.

“I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you, Kaidan,” she says softly as the elevator comes to a stop and they step off. “You, of all people, you should… please, just trust me.”

“I want to,” he says. “I do trust you, it’s just… I only meant…”

His words are cut off once again, this time by a loud banging coming from the air vents above. Shepard snaps out of the conversation, ducking behind the cover of an armored tank and drawing her gun in one smooth motion. In an instant, she goes from Lily, ghost in the shape of a woman, airing out her personal drama at inopportune times, to Commander Shepard, Alliance soldier in charge of an important mission.

“Stay on guard,” she mouths to James and Kaidan, who have taken cover next to her. Her eyes trace the sound coming from the vents, keeping her gun aimed at the source, as the noise from whoever is inside travels across the length of the room. After a moment, the grate that leads to the vent is kicked open from the inside, and a familiar asari drops down onto the ledge below it.

Liara. Shepard breathes a small sigh of relief to see her old friend alive— though if she didn’t already have enough reasons to hate Cerberus, seeing two soldiers drop out behind Liara, guns aimed at her, certainly fuels the fire. Liara takes care of them before Shepard can react, hitting them with a singularity, before emptying a clip into their helpless, floating bodies.

At times, it’s still hard to reconcile this Liara, the one who worked as a powerful information broker on Illium, the one who showed no mercy when taking down the Shadow Broker, with the charmingly awkward scientist Shepard first met back on Therum. Then again, Shepard knows she’s vastly different from who she used to be back then, too—this war has changed them all. Hardened them. They’ve had to adapt, because it’s either that or be killed.

Still, when Liara keeps shooting at the soldiers, even when it’s clear they’re dead, Shepard pauses for just a moment, and it’s only once Liara has holstered her gun that Shepard stands up out of cover, not wanting to spook the asari.

James, clearly on edge, keeps his gun up as he follows, and Shepard can’t help but chuckle slightly as she puts a hand on it. Sure, Liara’s changed a bit since she and Shepard first met, but there’s no way she’d ever be a threat to Shepard.

“Easy there, lieutenant,” Shepard says. “She’s with us.”

Liara turns around as Shepard approaches, a slight smile on her lips when recognition hits. “Shepard. Thank the goddess you’re alive.”

“Same could be said about you,” Shepard says, pulling her old friend into a brief hug. “When we saw the situation out there, I was worried.”

“Please, I can handle a few Cerberus operatives,” Liara says, brushing off the concern. “I saw the reports as they came in, I worried you wouldn’t be able to make it out. They hit Earth hard?”

“Yeah, it was hard leaving like that,” Kaidan says. Shepard’s taken aback for a moment before she remembers that of course Kaidan and Liara both served on the original Normandy, and they’re friends, too, and Kaidan has every right to be involved in this conversation.

“Kaidan. I’m so sorry,” Liara says. “I’m relieved to see both you and the Commander made it out alive, but… why did you come here? Shouldn’t you be out there fighting?”

“Hackett ordered us to come,” Shepard says. “He said you’ve been researching, that you’ve found something that could help us, and you’d know what to do.”

Liara smiles again, this time slightly broader. “I do. Follow me.”

“Hallelujah,” James mutters. “Finally, some goddamn fucking answers.”

“Maybe,” Liara corrects. “I discovered plans for an old Prothean device, one that I think could wipe out the Reapers. Nothing is definite yet, but… Shepard, this looks promising.”

Shepard pauses for a second, trying to absorb this new information. Could they really have a plan? An actual plan for defeating the Reapers?

“Here? On Mars?” she asks, needing more information before she allows herself to get her hopes up. “We’ve known about the Prothean Archives for decades now. Why is this only surfacing now?”

“The Archives are a massive place,” Liara says. “And up until recently, no one believed you about the Reapers anyways. But now… finding it was process of elimination, mostly, mixed with a little desperation. We’re out of time.”

“Indeed we are,” Shepard says quietly, thinking about the horrific scenes from Earth. Had that really only been that morning? It felt like eons ago that the Reapers had invaded Earth, eons since that child she couldn’t save, and Anderson ordering her to abandon the fight, to abandon Earth.

“You bought us time when you destroyed the Alpha Relay, but we all knew that was just a temporary measure,” Liara says, looking out the window with a longing sigh. “Since you were under investigation, I knew I had to do something. Thankfully, Hackett agreed, he asked me to use my Shadow Broker resources to find something to stop the Reapers.”

She turns away from the window with a slightly sad smile. “My research led me here and has kept me so busy. I meant to come visit you, but…”

Shepard waves off Liara’s concern. “It’s fine. You had more important things to do, and besides, I was under house arrest. Your occasional messages were welcome, it meant a lot having a friend check in with me from time to time.”

Unlike some people. The words hang there, unsaid, and she can’t help but sneak a glance at Kaidan. Kaidan, who sent her a heartfelt message after Horizon, Kaidan who gave her hope. Kaidan, who ignored her and never called or visited and Kaidan, who continues to doubt her and question her and accuse her of working with the enemy.

Not like Jacob ever messaged, either, she thinks, but she can’t think about that right now. She has a long history of being disappointed by important men in her life, maybe it’s time to move on and focus on the present. Focus on something tangible, like the Reaper threat. The war might be a lost cause, but at least it’s a distraction from the lost cause that is her love life and she almost, almost chuckles.

“This Prothean weapon,” Shepard says, turning back to face Liara. “What is it? How do we find it and use it?”

“It’s not a weapon,” Liara says. “At least… not yet. It’s a blueprint for a device, but I believe it can stop the Reapers. The Protheans came close to defeating the Reapers. They had plans, they had this device, they just ran out of time. But I believe we can use their blueprint to finish what they started.”

“It seems too good to believe,” Shepard admits. “But I hope you’re right. How do we get to where it’s stored?”

“The Archives are across that tramway.” Liara points out the window at the long, covered passage that connects the part of the base they are in with the research section of the Archives.

“Assuming Cerberus hasn’t shut it down,” she adds, her eyes flashing with anger.

“Yeah Cerberus seemed hell bent on catching you,” James says. “What are they after?”

“They’re after the same thing we’re all after,” Liara says. “The blueprint.”

Shepard curses under her breath. “I didn’t think they’d be this selfish, but if it’s something powerful enough to destroy the Reapers…”

“Then it might just be of interest to Cerberus,” Kaidan finishes, shaking his head in disgust.

Before Shepard can say anything else, there’s a loud boom that comes from the other side of the door on the far side of the room. Shortly after, sparks start flying as someone on the other side of the door—Cerberus, no doubt—does their best to override the seal and manually force the door open.

“Looks like it’s a race to the Archives, then,” James says, cracking his neck. “Bring it on.”

Shepard pauses for a second, analyzing the situation. If she, James, Kaidan and Liara all go on foot to the Archives, then they’re all shit out of luck if Cerberus beats them and escapes with the data. They need backup.

“Not so fast, James,” she says. “I need you to get back to the shuttle.”

“But—” James starts to protest.

“If Cerberus beats us to the Archives, I need you covering the exits. We can’t let them get their hands on this blueprint.” Shepard dashes over to the console, queueing up the elevator for James. She needs Liara to lead the way to where the blueprint is, and as tempting as it is to send Kaidan away instead of James, James is the better shuttle pilot, and Kaidan’s technical skill could be useful if they run into trouble on the ground.

“That’s an order, Lieutenant!” she yells when James doesn’t move.

“Roger that.” James’ voice doesn’t hold the enthusiasm it did when talking about racing Cerberus to the Archives, but he complies nonetheless.

“I can hear them coming,” Kaidan says, glancing over to the door, which has nearly been soldered open. “We should take cover.”

Letting her biotics flare out around her, Shepard ducks behind one of the large crates in the cargo bay, her body thrumming with energy. The fight has only just begun, and it will be a challenge to beat Cerberus when they’re outnumbered and outgunned.

But being outnumbered and outgunned has never stopped Lily Shepard in the past. She’s a Commander in the Alliance Navy, she’s an N7, and she’s going to stop Cerberus and win this war, no matter what it takes.

When the Cerberus soldiers finally burst into the room, she’s ready.

Chapter Text

When the Cerberus soldiers breach the doors and start firing, Lily Shepard leaps into action. Amidst the fighting, Kaidan can’t help but glance over at her, can’t help but watch her fight, watch her— take it all in, take in what he thought he’d lost forever. There’s a beauty in the way she moves, the way she fights, all biotic energy and explosions and rage. He’d always known she was a powerful biotic, back in their days on the Normandy SR-1, he’d seen her skill firsthand, numerous times.

But whatever Cerberus had done to her, it had clearly amplified her biotic power—she’s on the level of Liara now, despite being only human. He watches as she catches groups in a singularity, then hits them with a warp a moment later, the explosion scattering the dead soldiers. There’s a beauty in it that takes his breath away, but at the same time, makes him want to take a step back. Because he knows that she is powerful, she is dangerous, and what he doesn’t know is what side she’s on. He prays to everything he believes in that she’s still Commander Shepard, that she’s still Lily, the woman he knew, the woman he loved. Loves, maybe, he isn’t sure, because that old wound has barely scabbed over and he worries that if he starts to pick at it, he won’t be able to stop. And if it turns out she’s not who she says she is, he thinks it might break him, and he isn’t sure if he’d be able to put himself back together.

He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts, wrapped up in her, that he almost misses when she lets out a growl of frustration and hits the remaining Cerberus soldiers with a ball of pure biotic energy, so big and bright that he has to shield his eyes from the blast. After, there’s a moment of silence, as everyone checks to make sure no one else is lying in wait.

He’s the first to break the silence. “I didn’t know you could flare your biotics like that.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t know you could reave, Major,” she snaps back.

He winces slightly at the venom in her tone, but he knows he has no right to criticize. He wants to tell her that when he was first promoted to Major, she was the first person he wanted to tell. He knew she’d be so proud of him; after all, his experience serving under her command on the Normandy was a huge reason for his promotion. When he was promoted, his first thought was I have to tell Lily but then a second later he remembered that she’d died and had been brought back by Cerberus, of all people, and everything was changed, and it was too much and he just… couldn’t.

He wants to tell her how sorry he is for his words on Horizon, how when he first saw her, he was scared of believing his eyes— scared that it was just an illusion and she would fade away, again, leaving him alone, again. And that the fear, combined with the shock of hearing that she was with Cerberus, led him to say things he never meant to.

He wishes he could tell her how after that letter, he wrote hundreds more that he never sent, because he was scared of being hurt again. He wishes he could tell her that after she was put on house arrest by the Alliance, he thought about visiting countless times, but every single time, his fear stopped him. What if she wasn’t real? What if she was still with Cerberus? What if she—rightfully, after his words on Horizon—hated him and wanted nothing to do with him?

There are a thousand things that he wants to tell her, but they all seem like too much and too little all at once, and so he stays silent.

“All clear,” Liara says, cutting through the silence between Kaidan and Lily that is steadily growing increasingly awkward. “We need to keep moving.”

The elevator to the upper level is broken, but after a few minutes of searching for options, Shepard calls out.

“Over here! The vehicle lift is still working.”

He watches as she pulls herself onto a pile of crates, then takes a running leap, landing gracefully on top of the vehicle lift. Her ingenuity was always one of the things he admired most about her—it didn’t matter what kind of hopeless situation you put her in, Lily Shepard would find a way out of it.

It's nice to know that at least some things never change.

The three of them are quiet as they make their way across the upper level to a closed door at the back. Shepard holds up a hand and Kaidan and Liara pause behind her as she punches in the code for the door. Cerberus hasn’t bothered to override the lock, so the door opens easily, but before anyone can take more than a step into the room, a shot rings out, hitting a fleeing Alliance soldier in the back.

The body drops to the floor just a few feet in front of them, and Kaidan tightens his grip on his gun. He’s always known Cerberus was bad news, but this? This takes it further than even he thought they were capable of.

Shepard jerks her head to either side of the door, indicating to Kaidan and Liara to take cover in the archway, while she creeps forward, keeping low and out of sight of the Cerberus troopers.

Even from the door, Kaidan can hears the Cerberus soldiers’ casual conversation.

“I heard there are still some scientists putting up a fight in the vehicle bay,” one says.

“Yeah, it’s becoming a real nuisance,” another says. “Come on, let’s go get ‘em and finish this pest control.”

Kaidan’s not one to disobey orders, he knows that moving from cover would jeopardize not just him, but Liara and Shepard. He learned the hard way what recklessness can cost, back in BAaT, and he didn’t make Major without a respect for orders and rules.

But damn if it isn’t tempting to just step out and empty a clip into the Cerberus soldiers, right then and there, without waiting for the tactical advantage. Innocent Alliance marines and scientists are being slaughtered. And not even by the Reapers, or other hostile aliens, but by Cerberus. It sickens him.

Thankfully, before he has a chance to be tempted too much by his desire to put an end to the Cerberus soldiers who are openly bragging about murder, Shepard grabs one of the soldiers from behind and slams him down on the ground with a blast of biotics, killing him instantly.

The other three Cerberus troopers open fire on Shepard, and Kaidan and Liara step out from cover, finishing them off easily.

 “Come on, let’s keep moving,” Shepard says, stepping over the body of one of the fallen Cerberus soldiers.

“The control center is right up ahead, we should be able to access the controls to the pedway from there,” Liara says.

 The three of them continue on through the door at the back of the room and the control center lies a few yards ahead. It’s been trashed, with broken glass everywhere, important files scattered on the ground, and more than one dead Alliance personnel.

This is what Cerberus has done to an Alliance base, Kaidan reminds himself. For all of their claims to be pro-human, for all of their claims that they put the needs of humanity first, it didn’t stop them from slaughtering a whole Alliance base, and it sickens him and angers him in equal parts.

How could Shepard have joined up with them?

There it is, that lingering question that he can’t move past. He knows they had this conversation on Horizon, he’s seen the hurt in her eyes when he questions if she’s still with him, when he doubts her. And it kills him to keep pressing the issue, but he has to. This might be further than Cerberus has ever gone before, but the potential has been there all along, from the moment they discovered Cerberus murdered Admiral Kahoku to cover up the inhumane tests they’d been performing.

Back then, Shepard had condemned Cerberus, she’d vowed to take them down, to avenge the Admiral and the squad of marines lured into the thresher maw nest. How could she have seen that, and then joined up with Cerberus only two years later? The Shepard he knew never would have joined with Cerberus, and that’s what makes him doubt that it’s not really his Shepard standing here right now. She looks the same, her voice is the same, god, she even smells the same—that intoxicating floral scent from her shampoo, mixed with the fire and grit of the battlefield. But is it really her, deep down?

She should have gone to the Alliance. She should have gone to him, told him she was okay, she was alive. She should have done anything but join Cerberus. Would she have ever told him she was alive if he hadn’t run into her on Horizon? Would he have had to listen to the rumors and reports, forever wondering if it was really true?

But dwelling on the past is useless, and there are lives at stake—potentially every life in the galaxy—so Kaidan tries to shake off these thoughts, just as Liara curses softly.

“Damn it, security’s been tampered with,” she says. “Everything’s all scrambled.”

“Let me see if I can access the controls,” Shepard says. “Kaidan, keep an eye on our six.”

“Roger that.” He keeps his gun at the ready and his biotics fully charged, almost hoping Cerberus would dare to try and confront them right now. As he’s sweeping the perimeter, his gaze catches on a woman in the security feed. She runs into the frame, looks directly at the camera, types something into a console, and then runs back out again.

Technically speaking, she hasn’t done anything wrong, but something about her just seems… off.

“Pause the vid,” Kaidan says. “Who’s that woman who just ran into the frame?”

“That’s Dr. Eva Coré,” Liara says. “I don’t know much about her, she only arrived about a week ago.”

“Hmm,” is all Kaidan says. Could she be the Cerberus mole who gave them easy access to the facility? Is she the traitor responsible for all the deaths?

“Any luck with the pedway?” Liara asks Shepard, but Shepard shakes her head.

“Everything’s all locked down. It will take longer than we have to hack into the controls and get it open again.”

Liara thinks for a moment, tapping her chin. “I saw some construction nearby earlier; I think we can gain access to the roof. Once there, we can figure out a way to the Archives.”

Shepard nods. “Let’s move. Helmets on.”

The three of them pause just long enough to secure their helmets and ensure oxygen is flowing as it should, and then it’s out through the airlock. Out on the horizon, the storm has gotten closer, the dust completely concealing everything it rolls over, punctuated by occasional flashes of lightning.

“We’d better hurry,” he says. “That storm’s getting close.”

Shepard drops down a ladder to a lower section of the roof and Kaidan follows, pausing briefly to look up as he hears the sound of gunfire. They can see the pedway from where they are and there are two trams, one in hot pursuit of the other, keeping up sustained fire on the front tram.

“Looks like the Alliance is still putting up a fight,” Shepard says, and he can practically hear the grin in her voice.

“That’s the pedway to the Archives,” Liara says. “Once Cerberus is across, they’re at the final security checkpoint. After that, there won’t be anything to stop them.”

“We’ll stop them,” Shepard says, and Kaidan wishes he could trust the conviction in her voice, but he can’t. Not fully.

They’re halfway across the roof, on their way to another ladder, when James patches into their comms, his voice filled with static and barely legible.

“Commander. Do you read me?”

“Barely,” Shepard says. “The storm’s causing interference, you’re breaking up.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” James said. “I’ve lost contact with the Normandy, what’s your—” The static takes over, cutting off whatever James had been about to say.

“I didn’t read that, James,” Shepard shouts over the noise of the storm. “Repeat?”

There’s nothing but static over the comms and Shepard curses.

“The storm’s going to be here very soon,” Liara says, a tinge of worry in her voice.

“I think it’s already here,” Shepard responds. “We’re cut off from James, and he’s cut off from the Normandy. I think we’re on our own.”

“We can still do this,” Liara says.

A moment later they come across an open airlock, and the three of them exchange a worried look.

“This airlock shouldn’t be open,” Liara says, voicing all of their fears.

“It doesn’t look like it was forced open,” Kaidan says. “No signs of damage.”

“I don’t think you would be able to force it open,” Liara says. “It’s heavily reinforced. You’d have to override security protocols.”

“Come on,” Shepard says, stepping through the open airlock into the building. “Stay alert.”

They head down the ramp, and it isn’t long before the flashlights from their guns come across the dead body of an Alliance scientist, lying on the ground in front of them.

“Someone vented the air from the room while they were still in here,” Liara says slowly, her voice filled with horror.

Kaidan isn’t sure he can respond, he’s too consumed by his blinding rage at what Cerberus done, but after a moment, he gets the words out, noticing the bloodied hands of the scientist. “Looks like they died trying to claw their way out.”

“This is brutal, even by Cerberus standards,” Liara says, her voice a cold, quiet rage.

Kaidan sneaks a glance over to Shepard, but her expression is unreadable through her helmet, and she doesn’t say anything.

“We have to keep moving,” Shepard says. No comment on the act of atrocity that Cerberus has committed right in front of them. No words of sorrow for the fallen Alliance scientists. Just business. Kaidan knows that they have to keep moving, that if they don’t stop Cerberus in time, none of this will matter, and that stopping to reflect on the dead wastes precious time that they don’t have. But he can’t help the thought at the back of his mind: does she even care? Does she feel anything?

He knows it’s not fair, but he can’t stop himself from thinking it anyways. It’s been a few hours since they were first thrown together, since the Reaper invasion officially started, and she’s been so cold. So distant. Back when they served together on the Normandy, all those eons ago—how had it only been three years?—one of the things he’d most admired about her was her heart and her compassion. He wasn’t sure he knew her anymore.

Cerberus might have brought back Commander Shepard, Hero of the Blitz, Savior of the Citadel, but did they bring back Lily? He’s not so sure and that’s what kills him. He needs to know if she’s still Lily— his Lily, the Lily who he fell in love with because she was as tender and gentle as she was fierce and tough. He needs to know if she’s still the same Lily who would hum opera under her breath when she thought no one was listening, the Lily who chewed on her lower lip when she was concentrating hard, the Lily who drank her coffee black and her whiskey neat, never one for frills. The Lily who would sometimes fall asleep at her desk—she’d stay up late finishing reports, and he’d find her there, cheek pressed against a datapad, blonde hair frizzing around her face as it escaped her neat bun.

All the little details that made her who she was, and made him love her—are they still there? Or did Cerberus only care about bringing back Commander Shepard, hero of the galaxy, with no care for the woman she was outside of that? And if she wasn’t still Lily, what else was different? She’d died. Full stop. He watched her go down with the Normandy, he mourned her death for two years. How do you come back from that? If there is one constant in the universe, it’s that there’s no escaping death. Death comes for everyone eventually, and it is always a finality.

Or so he thought. He thought he’d never get over her death, there is no ‘getting over’ losing the love of your life. And now that she’s back, it should be easier, but it just complicates everything and makes it harder and he hates it. He misses her, he loves her, he hates that she’s with Cerberus. He hates himself for surviving instead of her, he hates her for abandoning him. He doesn’t trust her and yet there’s no one he’s ever trusted more in his life.

Everything is complicated and he hates how what had once been so easy—loving her—has now become so tangled. He wishes he could trust her and believe her; he wishes they could rekindle what they had, but he can’t. He doesn’t know how death changed her—because it had to have changed her, right? And what’s killing him is the not knowing; the worry that it isn’t really her, that his Lily died, and this is someone else, someone irrevocably different who will never fill the void that she left.

He doesn’t know what to believe or how to feel, whether to trust her and risk being hurt again if she’s not really her, or keep her at arm’s length and risk alienating her further. All he knows is that his heart hurts, being so close to her, yet still so far away.

Shepard, Kaidan and Liara continue on in silence, past another group of Cerberus soldiers that they quickly take care of, past more dead bodies of innocent Alliance scientists, brutally murdered by Cerberus.

And for what? Shepard never trusted the Illusive Man, she kept him at arm’s length, and the moment she had an opportunity to cut ties, she did so, in the biggest fuck you she could manage. But throughout her whole time working with them—with, not for, she reminds herself, as if Kaidan could overhear her thoughts—she’d never known the Illusive Man to be this brutal. Especially not when humans were involved. What could Cerberus possibly gain for humanity by stealing the plans for some Prothean super-weapon and sabotaging the war against the Reapers? The Reapers were going to wipe out everyone, humans very much included, unless they stood as a united front.

Kaidan is the one to break the silence. “Did… did you know any of these people, Liara?”

Liara. Of course he was talking to her, not to Shepard. He still hasn’t said anything to her, unless it’s to accuse her of still being loyal to Cerberus, or implying that she’d somehow known about this attack, because apparently that’s what he thought she was now. A ruthless terrorist, hellbent on ruining the one possible chance at winning this war. She can’t even comprehend why Cerberus is doing this, why would she be involved?

“I… recognize a few,” Liara says. “But I didn’t know any of them well. I think, since I was the only asari here, it made things a little awkward. People were never unkind, but most of them had limited experience with aliens and I don’t think they knew how to interact with me. So, I spent most of my time alone, researching.”

“Did your research turn up anything useful?” Kaidan asks. “This Prothean super-weapon, how did you find it?”

 “I was researching the Protheans,” Liara said. “After Ilos… I had so many questions, there was so much more that I needed to learn, now that we had that missing piece of the puzzle. It took the Reapers centuries to fully conquer the Protheans. During that time, a handful of Prothean survivors worked desperately to find a way to stop the Reapers. If my translations are correct, I believe they found a way to stop them. But in the end, they didn’t have enough resources to see the plan come to fruition. That’s what we need to change.”

Kaidan falls silent, contemplative, as the three of them press on. Shepard finds the environmental controls for the room and re-pressurizes it, waiting for the hiss and pop of air to finish, signifying it’s safe to remove helmets.

Shepard takes a deep breath to calm her frayed nerves, largely due to the stress of the past several hours—but if she’s entirely honest, ever since she died, choking on the emptiness of space, having to rely on her suit for oxygen fills her with just a tinge of anxiety. She’s always known that things could go badly if her helmet was destroyed or her oxygen supply sprang a leak—everyone knows that, it’s one of the risks you have to deal with.

But now that she’s actually experienced it, firsthand… it’s hard to fully trust the mechanics of her suit. It’s hard to calm her breaths, to keep from hyperventilating, to still the worried thoughts in her mind that question how long until air runs out and what if disaster strikes. It’s almost shameful to admit—she’s faced down hordes of geth, she’s stopped the Collectors, she faced down an actual Reaper, and yet she’s scared of not being able to breathe if her suit malfunctions.

It’s something she’d never admit out loud, and certainly not in the presence of him, but being able to breathe unassisted is a small relief.

“This will give us access to the labs,” Liara says. “From there, it’s easy to get to the tram station to head across to the Archives.”

“Hey, you might want to check this out,” Kaidan says, fiddling with something on the console. “There’s a recording of what happened here.”

Shepard inhales sharply, feeling slightly nauseated at the thought of witnessing Cerberus murder so many people, but she turns her attention to the screen.

On screen is an Alliance security officer, looking directly into the camera. “Security station, please come in.” Pause. “Security station? We’re, uh, seeing some odd activity down here. Our security protocols just kicked in and everything’s locked down. What’s going on?”

Behind him, the doctor from earlier, Eva Coré, appears and he glances over his shoulder to address her. “Doctor, I’ll have a report for you as soon as—”

Whatever he’d been about to say is cut off as Dr. Eva shoots a scientist just on the edge of the screen, and then the security officer himself. The screen fills with static, but clears up a moment later as Dr. Eva approaches the console and begins furiously tapping in a command. A moment later, a blaring horn cuts through the air, warning that the room is being de-pressurized. Shepard can do nothing but watch with gritted teeth as everyone slowly starts to succumb to the lack of oxygen, dropping to the floor. Dead.

“Guess we know how Cerberus got in,” Shepard mutters, seething with rage. (And there’s a smaller, petty part of her that wants to turn to Kaidan and say “see? It wasn’t me!” but there are more important things to worry about, so she keeps quiet).

“I should have realized it when I first met her,” Liara says. “If I hadn’t been so single-mindedly focused on stopping the Reapers…”

Shepard is shaking her head before Liara can even finish. “Stopping the Reapers is the only thing any of us should be focused on right now. It’s not your fault.”

“But what if there’s no way to stop them?” Liara asks, voicing Shepard’s deepest fears. “What if these are our last days and we waste them, spending our time scurrying around trying to fix a problem that can’t be fixed?”

It’s something Shepard has thought about more than once. But she also knows that even if it is hopeless, she would rather spend her last few days trying to fix it, rather than give up. Once upon a time, she might have seen the appeal of making the most of whatever time they have left—spend it with Kaidan, just the two of them enjoying each other’s presence, the way they did the night before Ilos, when they weren’t sure they’d ever make it back.

But everything has changed, and now, stopping the war is the only thing that matters to her. It’s the only thing keeping her going some days. Most days, if she’s being honest with herself. It’s easier to keep going when she can put on the armor of Commander Shepard, hide behind the mask of the Savior of the Citadel and Hero of the Blitz and whatever new title they would come up with to laud her for stopping the Collectors.

It’s easier to be the great Commander Shepard than just Lily, ghost in the shape of a woman, never quite healed from her past trauma. There are some things you simply can’t heal from, and that’s something she has to make peace with, but peace has never been something she’s good at. She’s good at battle, at war, at survival, at succeeding despite the odds. And the odds now might be worse than she’s ever faced, and the stakes higher than ever, but she’s still going to try.

“Liara…”

“I know,” Liara says. “I shouldn’t think this way.”

 “If anyone can stop the Reapers, it’s us,” Shepard reminds her. “I’m not going to lie to you and say I’m confident we can do this, because I don’t know, but damned if I’m not going to try my hardest.”

“You’re right,” Liara says, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know how you do it, Shepard. You always stay focused on the end goal, even in the worst situations.”

Shepard shrugs slightly, not sure how to admit that her focus is the only thing keeping her from falling apart most days. She has to stay focused, or else she thinks she might crumble into dust and fade away.

“When the stakes are this high, I think about what I’d lose if I fail,” Shepard says. An honest answer, if not the entire truth. “And I fight to make sure I don’t lose it.”

“That’s a terrible burden,” Liara says, crossing her arms.

Despite everything, Shepard cracks a smile. “Tell me about it. But with these plans you found, I think we have a real shot at stopping them, Liara. Together.”

 “Thank you,” she says. “I want to believe you. I hope you’ll prove it to me.”

Suddenly, she furrows her brows, turns to the screen, and then back to Shepard. “Shepard. That woman, Dr. Eva Coré.”

“Yeah?” Shepard says. “What about her?”

“She wasn’t wearing a helmet,” Liara says. “When she de-pressurized the room. She wasn’t wearing a helmet or an exosuit. How did she survive?”

Shepard sucks in a breath. “You’re right. Something’s not right here. Stay alert, we don’t know what else she might be capable of.”

“We should keep moving,” Kaidan says, his voice making Shepard jump slightly. He’d been so quiet, she’d almost—almost—forgotten he was still standing there.

Liara tapped a command into the console and a door opened across the room. “That will give us access to labs and tram station.”

“Move out,” Shepard says, unholstering her gun. She can hear Liara and Kaidan fall into step behind her as she checks the sights on her gun and flares out her biotics, just a little. The next group of Cerberus soldiers they come across will pay dearly for the crimes they committed here.

After fighting through another group of Cerberus soldiers, Shepard, Liara and Kaidan finally come to the tram access to the Archives.

“This is it,” Liara says. “Undoubtedly Cerberus will have it locked down, but hopefully we can override it at the control center. It’s right down this hall.”

The doors to the control center are sealed, and Shepard gestures for Kaidan and Liara to take cover on either side, in case there’s an ambush waiting for them, while she opens the doors.

The moment the doors open, a massive, four-barreled turret gun drops from the ceiling and begins firing, spraying bullets everywhere.

“Heads up!” Kaidan yells, slamming into Shepard as everyone ducks for cover.

“That’s an understatement,” Shepard mutters, adrenaline pumping through her veins. (And a little something else, too, an ache, a longing as she breathes in Kaidan’s musky cologne, but she pushes that thought out of her head.)

“You okay?” he asks and even though she’s been desperately wanting him to talk to her, to say something other than vitriolic comments about her loyalties, she feels her anger flare up. How dare he treat her the way he has been and then swoop in and play the hero?

“Fine,” she says. “I take it that’s the only way in?”

“It’s the only way that I know of,” Liara says. “We’ll have to find a way.”

“We can skirt around it, stay out of its sights,” Shepard says. “Be careful and don’t take stupid risks.”

“I’ll move up first,” Kaidan says, and before she can protest, tell him that as superior officer, she should be going first, he’s already up and running, dodging its fire as he ducks behind cover several paces ahead.

“Don’t let it target you!” he calls back.

“No shit,” she mutters under her breath. But now is not the time for sarcastic comments, so she scopes out the room ahead as best she can, planning out which spots are safe to take cover. If she doesn’t get this perfect, she’ll die. Her armor can protect against a lot, and medi-gel helps with most wounds, but sustained fire from a gun as powerful as that will rip through her shields and armor in no time.

She sprints out from the cover of the door, dropping to the ground and rolling into the next cover, behind an overturned crate, as the gun fires above her, the bullets close enough that she can feel the heat as they narrowly miss her head, her heart pounding in her ears.

“Shit,” Kaidan says, and Shepard feels a stab of panic in her gut.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he calls back, and she lets out a relieved sigh. He’s okay. “That was just a close call. A little too close.”

She has to stay focused on the task ahead, the path that will lead her to safety. Well, relatively speaking, there’s undoubtedly more Cerberus soldiers waiting for them. But a few more sprints, a few more brushes with death, and they finally get out of range of the turret.

“We’re safe,” Liara pants, leaning against a stack of crates. “The turret can’t reach us from here.”

“Everyone still in one piece?” Shepard asks, though she can see that Kaidan and Liara are both unharmed.

There’s another door up ahead and through the adjacent window, she can see several Cerberus soldiers, lying in wait. She’s tired from everything that has happened in the past several hours— seeing Kaidan again, the Reaper invasion, fighting their way through Cerberus here, in never-ending waves of assault troopers. But her tiredness is matched in equal measure with anger—anger at Kaidan, anger at the Reapers, and plenty of anger at Cerberus. So she gathers up her strength, takes a deep breath, and pushes through to the next room.

When she looked in the window from the outside, she could see three Cerberus soldiers, though there’s undoubtedly more. She enters the room cautiously, hugging the wall, Kaidan and Liara behind her, as she creeps along slowly under the safety of cover.

“Get ready…” a Cerberus soldier says. “Hold steady.”

There’s six Cerberus soldiers that she can see, lying in wait, and potentially more hidden in cover, but it’s enough to go on for now—but now that she can see them, Cerberus can see her, too.

“Fire!” the commanding Cerberus officer yells.

The room explodes in a spray of bullets and grenades, but battle is what Shepard does well. She throws out a shockwave, knocking over three of the Cerberus soldiers right in front of her, then finishes them off with her gun before they can get up.

A well-placed singularity from Liara draws out two more Cerberus soldiers, pulling them into the swirling mass and leaving them dangling helplessly while Shepard hits them with a warp, ripping them apart.

One left.

Kaidan taps a command into his omni-tool and the Cerberus trooper’s shields fizz out, leaving him helpless as Kaidan finishes him off with a burst from his assault rifle.

The room falls into quiet once again, except for the sounds of heavy, labored breathing, and the pained moans of a dying Cerberus soldier who wasn’t quite dead yet.

Liara walks up to the soldier and fires two shots into his head, waiting until the twitching stops before she holsters her gun again, her expression cold, and Shepard is reminded again that she’s not the only one who’s changed since the Normandy went up in flames.

“Spread out, clear the room,” Shepard says, gesturing for Liara and Kaidan to head down the sides of the room while she takes the center.

It’s a small enough room, and easy to clear, so after a minute and no hidden Cerberus soldiers found, Shepard declares it safe.

“Looks like they’ve made it to the Archives,” Liara says, frowning as she checks over the security footage. “It’s completely locked down.”

“Can you override it?” Shepard asks, but Liara is already tapping away at the console, trying to shut down the lockdown order.

It doesn’t take long before she shakes her head. “The Archives are on a completely separate network. We’re locked out.”

“Well, shit,” Shepard mutters, trying to think up a Plan B.

“We might not be locked out,” Kaidan says, and Shepard can see the idea forming in his expression. “Not if we can find a short-range communicator—helmet to helmet.”

“And?” Shepard asks, crossing her arms. “What then?”

“And then we convince them that we’re on their side,” Kaidan says. “Tell them that the Alliance soldiers have been taken care of, and we need to get through.”

“That could work,” Shepard says. “Good thinking, see what you can find.”

Kaidan leaves to go find a communicator, leaving Shepard and Liara in the room.

Shepard turns to ask Liara if she has any other ideas, in case Kaidan is unsuccessful, but pauses when she sees the smirk on her friend’s face. “What?”

“The Major has become very capable,” she says. “He’s come a long way since we served together.”

“Yeah,” Shepard says softly. “He has.”

“How are you holding up?” Liara asks, then raises a hand to cut Shepard off when she opens her mouth. “Honest answer, Shepard. I’ve known you long enough to be able to tell when you’re lying.”

“It’s… hard,” Shepard admits. “Seeing the distrust in his eyes. Knowing that he thinks I’m still with Cerberus—that I ever was with Cerberus, despite what I’ve told him. You weren’t there on Horizon, you didn’t hear what he said, but…”

“But?” Liara gently prompts.

“He said some unkind things,” Shepard says. “He did send an apology letter, but… I don’t know if he’ll ever fully trust me again, and that hurts. I worry he’s moved on without me.”

That, right there is the truth of the matter, which cuts deeper than she realized until voicing it out loud—everything about her is hung up on the past. She is haunted by nightmares of her death, she loses sleep over those two years she spent lying on a slab in a Cerberus lab, little more than a corpse. She clings to those blissful months with Kaidan on the Normandy, she treasures the memories of three years ago.

But so much has changed in those three years—and what if they’ve changed in ways where they’re no longer compatible? Kaidan had two years to grieve and process and move on, two years during which she was barely alive, two years she will never get back. What if he’s moved on?

Liara’s brow furrows, but before she can say anything else, Kaidan’s voice crackles over the comms.

“Commander! I think I found something. Next room over.”

Shepard walks over to the next room, finding Kaidan kneeling next to the body of a dead Cerberus soldier.

“What did you find?”

“He’s got a transmitter still intact in his helmet,” Kaidan says. “If I can just… my god.”

In his efforts to get to the transmitter, he hit the button to lower the shield of the mask. Instead of an ordinary soldier, the man underneath the helmet has glowing blue eyes and dark veins running down his face.

“He looks like a husk,” Kaidan says, backing away slowly in horror.

Shepard inhales sharply and tries to contain her own horror. “He does. Not quite, but… they’ve definitely done something to him.”

“And by ‘they’ you mean Cerberus, right?” Kaidan asks, crossing his arms, and Shepard clenches her teeth, not liking the way this conversation is headed.

“We all know Cerberus has done some terrible things in the past,” Shepard says.

“Is that what they did to you?”

Shepard reels back, the shock and hurt of the question causing her to drop her careful mask of neutrality. “How could you say that? I am nothing like him, I…”

She trails off and bites her lip, hard, to contain her emotions.

“Look, Shepard, I’ve tried to just… accept it, but the truth is, I don’t know who—or what—you are, not since Cerberus… rebuilt you,” he says, tripping over the word rebuilt as if he can’t quite bring himself to say it.

“I’m still me,” she whispers.

He sighs, turning back towards the grotesque, husk-like soldier. “For all I know, you could be their puppet, controlled by the Illusive Man himself. And maybe you think you’re still you, but what if that’s just what they want you to believe? Would you even know if you’re being controlled?”

“How can you just stand there and accuse me of horrible things?” she asks, ashamed of herself for the way her voice breaks. “What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m still me? Clearly stopping the Collectors wasn’t enough. Submitting myself to the judgement of Alliance brass for my actions regarding the Alpha Relay wasn’t enough. Killing every goddamn Cerberus soldier we’ve seen here hasn’t been enough.”

The words are spilling out of her mouth, faster than she can stop them, her rage and grief building with each word. “What do you want to do, dissect my brain until you’re sure there’s no control chip, then declare me innocent in death? Would that make you happy? Because you’re setting me up for a no-win situation, Kaidan. How can I prove a negative? This is starting to feel like a fucking witch hunt.”

“No, that’s not what I meant, I just…” Kaidan breaks off with a sigh. “I don’t need you to try and explain it, I don’t think I’d understand anyways. I just want—I need to know, is the person I followed into hell, the woman I loved, is she… are you… still in there somewhere? Because it’s not just Cerberus, Shepard, you’re… different. Colder.”

“I died,” Shepard spits out the words. “And I can remember every second of it. And then I wake up in a lab somewhere, and I’m told it’s two years later, and I have to save the world, again, but Cerberus are the only people with the resources and knowledge to actually make it happen, so I make an uneasy alliance and deal with the consequences. So yeah, I’ve changed. There’s been a hell of a lot that you’ve missed, Kaidan, times when you should have been there, but you weren’t, so don’t you dare blame this all on me.”

Kaidan looks away, either ashamed or uncomfortable, she’s not quite sure which.

Shepard takes a deep breath to calm her rage. Yelling at Kaidan won’t solve anything. “I’m still me, Kaidan. Cerberus didn’t change me, or how I feel about you. I don’t know how to convince you.”

“I don’t know if you can,” Kaidan mutters.

“You always were infuriatingly stubborn,” Shepard says, both genuine tenderness and frustration in her voice. But there’s a terrorist organization to be stopped and a universe to be saved, so she drops it. “Come on, let’s see what Cerberus is up to. Maybe we’ll both get some answers.”

She grabs the transmitter from the helmet, clears her throat, then turns it on. “Hello? This is Delta Team, come in.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, she thinks it hasn’t worked, either the transmitter is faulty, or Cerberus isn’t buying it.

But a moment later, a voice comes over the comms. “About time. Where the hell have you been?”

“Taking care of hostiles,” Shepard says. “We’re at the tram station now, all hostiles have been eliminated. We need extraction.”

“Roger that,” the voice says. “Good work, Delta Team. Echo Team will ride over and secure the station.”

“Copy that,” Shepard says, and terminates the connection.

“Think they bought it?” Kaidan asks, and Shepard shrugs.

“We’ll find out soon enough, either way. Come on, let’s get in position.”

The three of them head down to the lower level, and a moment later the tram pulls into the station. It becomes clear that the Cerberus soldiers believed Shepard’s lie, as their guard is down, and with Shepard, Liara and Kaidan flanking them, the fight is over in a matter of minutes.

Once they’re on the tram and helmets are secured, Shepard keys in the controls for the tram. Outside, the dust storm has only gotten worse, and Shepard curses under her breath.

“Let’s hope we can find the data quick, I’m not sure how much longer we’ve got before the storm cuts off everything.”

“It’s not far, the Prothean Archives are right over there, on the other side of that platform,” Liara says, pointing to a platform that’s just visible beneath the haze of the storm.

“There’s also a squad of Cerberus soldiers,” Kaidan says. “Look out!”

The tram jolts to a stop at the platform, where easily seven or eight Cerberus soldiers lie in wait. They begin firing before the tram even stops, and Shepard ducks behind the half-wall of the tram, waiting for a break in fire.

It’s all just an automatic rhythm by this point. Throw out a singularity for crowd control, detonate it with a warp to finish them off. Hit them with a shockwave to knock them off their feet, use her submachine gun to pick off strays when her biotics are cooling down.

It’s moments like these when there’s just the thrill of battle singing in her veins that she feels invincible. Like she could take them on all by herself. She’s Commander Shepard, Hero of the Blitz, Savior of the Citadel, living legend. It might be a mask she wears, but damn if she doesn’t wear it well.

But she’s not alone, and Kaidan and Liara make the fight go even faster, and soon the Cerberus troops are all dead.

“Damn, they really didn’t want us getting in here,” Kaidan mutters, stepping over the bodies of fallen Cerberus soldiers.

“It just confirms my suspicions about the value of the data,” Liara says. “Come on, the Archives are right through that door.”

The door to the Archives opens easily—Shepard was half-expecting it to be locked down, or rigged to explode, or something—and they enter with their guns drawn, ready for another Cerberus ambush, but there’s no one there.

The room is circular, with a large obelisk in the center, and otherwise empty. Shepard briefly scans the room, but if Cerberus is lying in wait somewhere, they’ve hidden well.

“Kaidan, you take the left side, Liara, with me,” she says, already taking off down the right side of the room. At the center of the platform, right in front of the obelisk, there’s multiple holograph screens, and Shepard frowns as she takes off her helmet, trying to make sense of what she’s looking at.

Before she can sort anything out, or ask Liara for her expert opinion, one of the holographs to her right shimmers, and a man comes into view, a man who she’d hoped she’d never see again.

The Illusive Man.

“Shepard,” he says, taking a drag on his ever-present cigar. “How nice to see you again.”

“Illusive Man?” Liara questions, spinning to face him as she pins her gun on him.

“You know, the Protheans really were a fascinating race,” he says, as if having a gun trained on him doesn’t bother him in the slightest—though, since he isn’t really there, Shepard supposes he doesn’t have any reason to be concerned.

“They left all this here for us to discover,” he continues. “All this research, but we’ve squandered it. We owe our discovery of mass effect technology to them, what other remarkable inventions are hiding in these data drives? The Alliance has known about these Archives for more than thirty years, and what have they done with it?”

“There’s a team of scientists stationed here all the time,” Shepard says. “Or at least there was, until you murdered them all, so I’d say the Alliance is doing a better job at uncovering Prothean secrets than you are.”

The Illusive Man shook his head. “The deaths of the scientists are regrettable, though necessary.”

“What do you want?” Shepard asks, cutting him off.

“What I’ve always wanted,” he says. “The data in these Archives holds the key to solving the Reaper threat.”

“Yes, which is exactly why the Alliance needs them,” Shepard says. “So we can destroy the Reapers and stop this war. Or are you genuinely enough of a narcissistic, self-centered megalomaniac that you think you can solve this on your own?”

“Destruction isn’t the answer,” he says, taking another drag of his cigar. “Destruction of something like this would be a shame. We can harness and control the great power that the Reapers possess, use it for our own purposes.”

“Like you’ve done with your soldiers?” Shepard asks. “I saw what you’ve done to them, you’ve turned them into monsters.”

“Hardly,” he scoffs. “They’re improved.”

“Improved?” Shepard asks, crossing her arms. “Like the way the Protheans were ‘improved’ by being turned into the Collectors? Is that your grand plan for humanity?”

“Think about it!” His eyes gleam with his thirst for power and Shepard shudders. “Think about how strong humanity could be if we controlled the Reapers!”

Shepard shakes her head. “You’re insane. Earth is under siege, and you’re hatching some half-baked scheme that will never work to try and control the Reapers?”

The Illusive Man sighs. “You’ve always been shortsighted. Too emotional. Your decision to destroy the Collector base was a great loss for us.”

“Which is exactly why I did it, and exactly why I would do it again in a heartbeat.” Shepard crosses her arms, defiance in her eyes and rage in her heart. “That base was an abomination. Hundreds of thousands of humans were murdered there, and I only wish I could have gotten to it sooner.”

“This isn’t your fight any longer, Shepard,” he says. “Realize when you’ve lost. You can’t defeat the Reapers, even with the Prothean technology.”

“Don’t count me out just yet,” she says. “I’ve done the impossible more than once before, it’s become a bit of a habit of mine. And this time, I have allies all across the galaxy. With a united front, we can do this.”

“You’re naïve.” The Illusive Man shakes his head in dismay. “And wasting an incredible resource. We can dominate the Reapers, take their power for ours, raise humanity to the levels it has always been meant to achieve!”

“Not while I’m still breathing,” Shepard says. “And even then, I died once. It didn’t stick. I’ll be taking that data and using it to destroy the Reapers.”

“Your vision is pathetically limited,” he snarls. “We rebuilt you as a tool, one with a singular purpose. We gave you freedom and autonomy because we needed you. And despite our differences, you were relatively successful in your mission, but just like the rest of the relics in this place, your time is over.”

“That’s bold talk for an old man who gets others to do his dirty work,” Shepard says. “I’ve had enough talk. Liara, let’s move out.”

“Don’t interfere with my plans any further, Shepard,” the Illusive Man calls out. “I won’t warn you again.”

“No, you shouldn’t interfere with my plans again,” she says, turning back to face him. “I killed countless Cerberus soldiers getting here, and I’ll kill countless more if it means stopping you. I should have told you this a long time ago: go to hell. I’ll send you there myself, if I ever get the chance.”

“Shepard!” Liara’s panicked voice cuts through and Shepard turns to look at the screen Liara’s hunched over.

“What is it?”

“The data,” she says. “It’s not here. It’s being erased.”

“Goodbye, Shepard.” The Illusive Man’s smirk is the final nail in the coffin, and Shepard lets out a scream, hitting the holograph with the hardest warp she’s capable of, but it passes through the projection of the Illusive Man as he flickers out of view, and hits the railing behind him.

“Damn it!” Shepard says. “How is he doing this? Can you stop him?”

“It’s local,” Liara says, shaking her head. “Someone is uploading the data, I can’t shut them out remotely.”

“Shepard! Over here!” Kaidan’s voice comes over the comms. “On the other side of the room. That doctor from earlier, Dr. Eva. She’s got the data. She’s getting away!”

Just as Kaidan relays the information, the doctor comes sprinting past Liara and Shepard, and Shepard curses, quickly securing her helmet again.

“Come on, we can’t let her get away!”

“She’s faster than she looks,” Liara huffs as the two of them break into a sprint to catch up.

Given her speed, and her ability to survive without a helmet when she sucked the oxygen out of the room, Shepard wonders if perhaps she’s not quite human, if this is another one of Cerberus’ “improvements,” like the soldier from earlier.

Dr. Eva leads them back the way they came, out of the Archives, up an emergency exit ladder to the roof, barely looking over her shoulder to shoot back at Liara and Shepard. She’s too fast for the singularity Liara throws out, she expertly dodges Shepard’s warp, and the endless spray of bullets from Shepard and Liara barely seem to put a dent in her shields.

As Dr. Eva leads them over the rooftops and down another ladder, a sinking realization hits Shepard: they’re not going to be able to catch her in time. Not without some outside help, at least.

“James, do you read me?” Shepard calls over the comms, hoping that the storm hasn’t completely knocked out their comms just yet, but there’s only static. “James? If you can hear this, Cerberus has the data, and they’re getting away. Radio the Normandy, get them down here now!”

The chase continues, Dr. Eva weaving a complicated path, always just out of reach, and when they climb a ladder to a different roof section, Shepard sees a Cerberus shuttle up ahead and her heart sinks. Behind her, Kaidan curses.

“Whatever you do, don’t let her get on that shuttle!” Shepard calls out, but it’s too late, she’s too late, and Dr. Eva jumps onto the shuttle, the doors closing behind her before Shepard can get on as well. She empties a clip into the shuttle doors, but it’s not enough. Cerberus is about to win, and then the war will be lost.

“Damnit! James? Normandy? Is anyone out there? Stop that shuttle at all costs!”

The Cerberus shuttle starts to lift off, taking all of Shepard’s hopes for survival with it, but through the dust storm, a glimmer of hope appears—the Alliance shuttle that James brought them to Mars in, headed right towards the Cerberus shuttle.

“I got this!” James says, his voice crackly and static-filled over the comms, but audible. The Alliance shuttle rams the Cerberus one in mid-air, triggering a small explosion, but before Shepard can get too hopeful, the Cerberus shuttle starts a spinning descent into a crash landing—right where Shepard, Kaidan and Liara are standing.

“Move!” Shepard yells, diving out of the way, but the force from the crash landing still sends her flying, and she hits the ground, hard. Groaning, she picks herself up and glances around to make sure Kaidan and Liara are both okay.

Kaidan waves off the helping hand she offers as he pulls himself to his feet, and Liara looks stunned, but otherwise okay, and Shepard lets out a small sigh of relief. While James’… ingenuity is appreciated, she wishes he could have maybe given them a heads up, so they could have gotten out of the way faster.

Shepard waves James over and he lands the shuttle with a small thud—despite having just rammed another shuttle mid-air, hard enough to make it spin out of control and crash, the Alliance shuttle seems mostly unharmed, just some slight dents and scratched paint on the nose of it.

“Normandy’s en route,” he pants, as he steps out of his shuttle. “They’ll be here soon. That was… wow.”

“Wow is one word for it,” Shepard agrees, glancing over at the crashed shuttle. Liara is limping slightly and she frowns as Kaidan drapes her arm over his shoulders to help her walk. She did say “at all costs,” but the three of them are lucky that they got away from the crash with minimal injuries.

“We need the data,” Liara says as she limps over to Kaidan. “Hopefully the crash hasn’t compromised it.”

Before Shepard can respond, either to reassure Liara that whatever OSD Dr. Eva used is probably sturdy, or to voice her concerns to James that maybe he could have been a touch more careful, there’s a loud bang, and the door to the Cerberus shuttle flies off.

Emerging from the flames is Dr. Eva, seemingly unharmed, and as Kaidan pushes Liara away to pull out his gun and start firing, Shepard can see why—she’s not just an enhanced human, she’s a robot, and the bullets from Kaidan’s gun harmlessly bounce off of her metallic body.

In the blink of an eye, before there’s time to react, Dr. Eva sprints towards Kaidan, shoves his gun aside, and reaches out to grasp him by the helmet, lifting him into the air with one hand.

“Kaidan!” Shepard screams, running towards him and Dr. Eva, her gun drawn, but he’s between her and the doctor. If she shoots, she risks hitting him, and what good would it do anyways, if bullets bounce off of her? Shepard considers her options—singularity? No, Kaidan would be caught up in it, too. Shockwave? No, it would hit both of them. Warp? Again, no, the risk of hitting Kaidan was too great. Flare? Definitely not, the area of effect damage was too great.

Her only arsenal left is words. “Let him go. I’m the one who the Illusive Man has an issue with, I’m the one who’s in charge here.”

Dr. Eva pauses briefly, as if contemplating what to do, then adjusts her comms unit. “Orders?”

Whatever the Illusive Man says on the other side of the line isn’t something Shepard can hear, but the doctor turns and slams Kaidan against the wall of the shuttle, and a high-pitched scream pierces the air. It takes Shepard a second to realize it’s her.

“No!” With the doctor’s back now to Shepard, she starts firing, but the doctor slams Kaidan into the shuttle once more, with a sickening crunching sound, before she finally drops him and turns towards Shepard.

There’s only seconds before the doctor reaches her and she faces the same fate as Kaidan, but as Shepard takes a deep breath, time seems to slow and her senses come alive—she can smell the acrid smoke in the air, she can feel the weight of the guns in her hands, but above all, she can feel her biotics, crackling through her veins. She can feel how much power she has.

She drops her gun, the bullets clearly ineffective, and hits the doctor with a shockwave and she stumbles, but it’s not enough. This time, when Shepard unleashes a warp that hits the doctor right in her chest, she knows—this pathetic construction by the Illusive Man is no match for Shepard.

She just hopes it isn’t too late.

Once Shepard is sure that the doctor is dead—or whatever passes for dead with robots—she runs over to Kaidan, who’s lying too still and quiet on the ground, and please, don’t let him be dead, she thinks. Not after all this, not after all they’ve been through. Not when their last conversation was an argument.

“Grab that thing and bring it with us,” Shepard shouts to James over her shoulder, gesturing at the body of the doctor. Maybe it will give them some insight into what Cerberus has been doing, how they’ve been achieving these “improvements” and how they managed to build an AI that looks human.

“Shepard, we’ve got Reaper signatures inbound,” Joker calls over comms, his voice panicked.

“Great,” Shepard mutters. “Could this day get any fucking worse?”

She hoists Kaidan up over her shoulder, relieved to see that he’s still breathing, though his breaths are shallow. He needs medi-gel—he needs more than medi-gel, but medi-gel will at least help as a stopgap measure—but Dr. Eva had him by the head, so she can’t properly apply medi-gel until she takes his helmet off, and she can’t do that until they’re onboard the Normandy and have a breathable atmosphere.

“Hang on, Kaidan,” she whispers. “Please.”

Once they’re onboard the Normandy, Shepard rushes Kaidan over to the medical bay where she carefully pries off his helmet. His face is bruised and bloodied, and she winces, hating to see him like this. She applies medi-gel to the back of his head, where Dr. Eva slammed him against the shuttle, but it’s not enough, and Liara voices her inner thoughts.

“Kaidan needs proper medical attention,” she says, her voice firm, but still gentle.

“I know,” Shepard says.

“We have to leave the Sol system,” Liara continues. “The Citadel is our best bet.”

“I know,” Shepard says again. She would do anything to save Kaidan, and she knows that saving Kaidan is an easier battle to win than stopping the Reapers. And that they would have had to leave the Sol system anyways, sticking around would be suicide. The Reapers far outnumber and outmatch them.

And yet… leaving Earth was one of the hardest things she ever had to do. Leaving the Sol system entirely just makes it seem so much more… final. Like they’re giving up. Like the Reapers have won.

“It will be okay,” Liara says, gripping Shepard’s hand, as if she could read her thoughts—and in all honesty, she probably could. Liara and Shepard had grown close during their time together on the Normandy SR-1, and Liara had become one of her closest friends. It wasn’t hard to guess what Shepard was thinking right now.

Shepard lets out a deep sigh. “Get us to the Citadel, Joker. As fast as you can.”

“Roger that, Commander,” Joker says.

Shepard turns back to Kaidan, then glances over at the body of Dr. Eva. “Liara, see what you and EDI can learn from that thing. Anything that could give us an edge over Cerberus will be much needed.”

“Commander, I’m receiving a signal over the QEC,” EDI says over the comms. “I believe it’s Admiral Hackett.”

“Damnit,” Shepard mutters. She knows she can’t just ignore Hackett, he needs to be updated on the war effort and what they found on Mars, but Kaidan… she fears if she leaves him, he might disappear while she’s gone.

“It’s okay, Commander, I’ll keep an eye on him,” James says. “I’ll make sure he stays stable.”

“Thanks, James,” Shepard says. It’s still not ideal, but it’s the best she’s going to get. “EDI, patch me through to the comm room.”

“Shepard, are you reading me?” Admiral Hackett’s voice comes through, staticky, but audible. “Did you get to the Archives?”

“I did,” Shepard says. “But Cerberus beat us there. They slaughtered that entire base, and we only barely got the data.”

Her voice is filled with disgust and her hands clench into fists as she remembers that room of innocent, unarmed scientists, being left to choke to death as Dr. Eva vented the room of oxygen.

She knows what that’s like, she still has nightmares about her own death, choking on stardust as she desperately tried to get oxygen into her lungs, but couldn’t. It’s a horrible fate, one she wouldn’t wish on anyone.

“I feared Cerberus might try something,” Hackett sighs. “But you did get the data?”

“Most of it,” Shepard says. “The Illusive Man downloaded some of it before we could stop him, but Liara and EDI have been analyzing what we recovered.”

As if on cue, Liara walks into the room. “Preliminary evidence supports my theory that the data is a blueprint for a Prothean device, some kind of weapon.”

She taps a command into her omni-tool and calls up a projection of the blueprint—a long cylinder with a bulbous end and several rotating parts. “This weapon would be massive in both size and scope, and capable of untold levels of destruction.”

“Interesting.” Hackett taps his chin with his finger. “Send me the data, we’ll do our own analysis as well. If you’re right, this might be the key to stopping the Reapers. Let’s hope it was worth the cost.”

“I hope so, too,” Shepard says, thinking about Kaidan lying there in the med-bay, unconscious and battered. “Major Alenko was critically injured. We’re taking him to the Citadel for proper medical attention.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Shepard,” Hackett says. “But we both know this is just the beginning. While you’re at the Citadel, talk to the Council, show them what you’ve found. With luck, they’ll give you all the support we need.”

“Right, because they’ve been so eager to help in the past,” Shepard says, before she can stop herself, forgetting for a moment who she’s talking to, and she clears her throat, “Um, Sir. And if they don’t help?”

“Do whatever it takes to get them onboard,” Hackett says. “We have proof of the Reaper invasion now. I’ll be in touch soon, Hackett out.”

“Yes, Sir,” Shepard says with a salute.

“Shepard,” Liara says after a moment, when the comm link has ended, but Shepard still hasn’t moved. “Lily. Are… are you okay?” She pauses, then frowns. “I know that’s a dumb question, but… relatively speaking. How are you holding up?”

“I don’t know,” Shepard admits. “Leaving Earth, seeing what Cerberus did on Mars, now Kaidan… it’s a lot to take in. And this weapon.”

“What about it?” Liara asks.

“Do you really think it will work?” Shepard says. You weren’t there on Earth, you didn’t see… the destruction they’re capable of is unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed, Liara. The damage Sovereign did to the Citadel and to the Fifth Fleet was catastrophic, but that is nothing compared to what a whole fleet of Reapers can do.”

“Do we have any other choice?” Liara walks over and gently places a hand on Shepard’s arm. “This weapon is our best chance at stopping the Reapers. Maybe it won’t work, but it can’t hurt to try, can it?”

“I guess.” Shepard wants to believe Liara, but she can’t fully believe it, and she starts to massage her temples to try and ward off a headache.

“Just focus on the present,” Liara urges. “Major Alenko will be okay. We’re en route to the Citadel, where he’ll get the best medical care possible. And you’ll find a way of convincing the Council, I believe in you.”

“That’s the problem,” Shepard says, raising her head to look at Liara. “Everyone is counting on me, Liara. Somehow I’ve become the one everyone turns to, I’ve become this… legend. I’m the Savior of the Citadel. Before that, I was the Hero of the Blitz. I’ve done impossible things, and everyone expects me to replicate them, but what if I can’t? What if this time, I fail?”

“I believe in you,” Liara repeats, gripping Shepard’s arm. “You are an amazing and capable woman, and you’re not alone. We are all in this with you, and together, we can do this.”

“Thank you,” Shepard says, cracking a slight smile. Maybe it’s just the fire in her friend’s voice and her firm grip on her arm, but Shepard starts to believe her. Liara’s always been good at convincing people, and Shepard is grateful to call her a friend.

And maybe it’s their friendship that allows Shepard’s mind to stray from the unthinkably high stakes of saving the universe and all intelligent life from extinction, to a lower stakes, but still painful topic to think about.

“What if Kaidan wakes up and he still hates me?”

“I don’t think he hates you,” Liara says. “The Major is stubborn and hard-headed, but more than that, I think he’s hurting. You weren’t there, you didn’t see what he was like when you died, Lily. It broke him. I think he’s scared of losing you again.”

“I don’t know… he said some pretty hurtful things, Li,” Shepard says, frowning. “It’s dumb, there’s more important things to worry about. First we need to make sure he’ll even be okay.”

“Well, when he recovers—because I have full faith that he will—if he still insists on acting like a stubborn ass, then say the word, and I’ll flay him alive with my mind,” Liara says. “You know. Just a little.”

Shepard laughs. “Thanks, Liara. It’s good to have you back.”

There’s a lot on her plate still, but she decided to try and take Liara’s advice—one step at a time. The Citadel has some of the best medical care in the universe, and they can help Kaidan. And they have the blueprint for this Prothean device now, too.

Despite everything, today was still a victory.

Chapter Text

Shepard had messaged ahead to Huerta Memorial that they had someone onboard who needed immediate medical attention, so when the Normandy pulls into dock at the Citadel, there is a team of medics already waiting for Kaidan.

“Get him onto the stretcher, quick!” one of the medics says, helping lift Kaidan’s legs.

“We’ve barely got a pulse here,” another medic says, frowning as she applies another dose of medi-gel to the bruises and cuts on his face.

Shepard starts to follow after them as they wheel Kaidan down the hallway on a stretcher, but Liara puts a hand on her shoulder.

“I know you’re concerned about Kaidan, but we need to present our findings to the Council,” she says gently. “Kaidan will receive the best care possible at Huerta Memorial, but there’s nothing we can do to help him now. We can still help everyone else by convincing the Council to join the war.”

Shepard sighs, knowing her friend is right, but not wanting to leave Kaidan. She knows there’s nothing that can be done now—if she went to Huerta Memorial with him, she’d likely just end up sitting in a waiting room somewhere while they treated him, and that wouldn’t be of any help to anyone.

“Alright,” she says after a moment. “Let’s do this.”

Truth be told, it’s not just that she doesn’t want to leave Kaidan, it’s also that she doesn’t want to address the Council. How many times has she warned them of the Reaper threat? How many times has she begged for their help, begged them to believe her? And how many times have they brushed her off and dismissed her claims?

She’s scared that even though the Reapers have invaded Earth, it won’t be any different now. But it has to be, right? There’s no way the Council can ignore the evidence when it’s right before their eyes. She just hopes it won’t be too late—Alliance high command only came around moments before the Reapers destroyed their headquarters.

Taking a deep breath to steel her nerves, she marches off towards the direction of the Citadel Tower—and right into Captain Bailey.

“Captain Bailey,” she says. “Good to see you looking well. Are you here on behalf of the Council?”

“Good to see you as well, Shepard,” Bailey says. “Though it’s ‘Commander’ now. I heard about Earth. Damn tragedy, but I’m glad you got out okay.” He sighs and they both share a brief moment of silence for all that has been lost already, and all that will be lost before this is over.

“The Council is expecting you,” he says, leading Shepard, Liara and James through the nearby lounge. “But they’re dealing with their own… problems. With the war and everything.”

Shepard lets out a small sigh of relief. At least they finally acknowledged that the galaxy is at war. It’s a small first step, but an important one.

“Anyways,” Bailey continues. “I’m here to let you know that they apologize for the inconvenience, but someone will meet you in Udina’s office in fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks, Bailey,” Shepard says. With all the chaos of everything that happened on Earth, and then on Mars, and then the stress about the Council, she’d completely forgotten that Anderson had retired a few months ago to go back to the Alliance. She’d never liked Udina much, nor had she forgotten that he too hadn’t believed her claims about Reapers and had tried to undermine and sabotage her mission to Ilos.

But he’s the human Councilor now, so all she can do is hope that the time he spent as Anderson’s top advisor, as well as the irrefutable proof of the active Reaper invasion, have helped shape him into a better man.

“I don’t mean to pry…” Bailey starts to say, and Shepard turns back to him, pushing away thoughts of Udina and the Council and how she’s supposed to pull this off.

“I saw the medics from Huerta Memorial when you landed. Everything okay?”

The cold neutrality in the doctor’s robotic face as she waits for a command from the Illusive Man. Some unheard word over the comms an order for death, and then she’s slamming Kaidan against the shuttle with supernatural strength, and there’s nothing Shepard can do about it.

Kaidan, lying bloody and bruised and barely breathing, her heart in her throat; the overwhelming fear that medi-gel won’t be enough, that they won’t be able to save him, that she won’t be able to save him, that she’ll lose him. Again. Before she ever really got him back.

Shepard licks her suddenly dry lips. “Yeah, we ran into… an incident, on Mars. One of my crew was badly injured. But I know he’s in good hands now, Huerta Memorial provides top of the line care.”

Her voice sounds forced and insincere, even to her own ears, but if Bailey picks up on it, he doesn’t say anything.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” is all he says. “This war has taken so much already, and it’s only just begun. I—”

Whatever he was about to say is cut off by a beep from his comms unit and he scowls, answering it. “Yeah? … I see. Okay. I’ll be there in five.”

“Sorry, Shepard,” he says as he hangs up. “Duty calls. But I still have time to escort you to Udina’s office.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “I know the way. You can go on ahead, I’ll catch up in a moment.”

“Are you sure?” Liara asks, and Shepard nods. “Alright.”

She walks a few feet with Bailey, then pauses to turn back to Shepard. “Kaidan will be okay, Shepard. After we brief the Council, there will be time to stop by Huerta Memorial. Try not to worry too much. As we speak, he’s being provided with the best possible care.”

“Me? Worry?” Shepard cracks a smile. “Pff. I would never.”

Liara’s face softens into a genuine smile. “Of course. I’ll meet you in Udina’s office.”

“You coming?” Bailey asks James, who had been silently standing there for the whole exchange, but he shakes his head.

“Briefing the Council is above my pay-grade. I’m just here to be a tourist today, I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble.”

With James departing in one direction and Liara and Bailey in another, that leaves Shepard alone in the Citadel lounge. There isn’t much time before she has to brief the Council and plead for their help, but she needs time to get her thoughts in order. She can’t think about Kaidan, both his condition and the condition of their relationship threaten to overwhelm her if she thinks too much about them.

She has to focus on being Commander Shepard. The Commander Shepard who saved Elysium, the Commander Shepard who defeated Saren and Sovereign, the Commander Shepard who destroyed the human Reaper and stopped the Collectors. She can’t just be Lily right now.

Truth be told, she sometimes wonders if she’ll ever be able to just be Lily again. Because the galaxy needs Commander Shepard, not Lily Shepard. Maybe it’s a good thing Kaidan hates her, maybe it’s better to stay unattached. Neutral. Committed only to the cause.

A news report about the batarian Hegemony catches her attention at the edge of her hearing range and she turns towards the screen, where a solemn-looking man is rattling off the news.

“Reports are saying that the entire batarian Hegemony has been destroyed by a mysterious threat,” the man is saying. “We are not yet able to confirm if there are survivors, as the Hegemony has gone completely dark. Early reports from Earth are saying that it is also under attack, from the same unknown threat that destroyed the Hegemony.”

She tunes out the news after that, unwilling and unable to hear more about how bad the situation across the galaxy is—she knows how big the threat is. She knows what’s at stake. This is what she’s fighting for, she reminds herself. She won’t let Earth fall to the Reapers. She won’t let the Alliance be destroyed the way the Hegemony was.

Delaying the inevitable will only make things worse. Cold dread is gnawing at her stomach at the thought of facing the Council only to be dismissed and turned away again, but she has to try. Maybe this time they’ll listen. Maybe this time they’ll lend the help that humanity so desperately needs.

But no matter what, she has to try. She has to fight. And odds be damned, she will find a way of stopping the Reapers, whether the Council helps or not.

After meeting an assistant to the Council in Udina’s office, Shepard is whisked off to the Council chambers, where they’re already in session. And by the look on Liara’s face, it hasn’t been going well.

“Earth was the first Council world hit,” Udina is saying. “By all reports, it bears the brunt of the attack. We need support!”

“Earth isn’t in this alone,” Councilor Sparatus says. “We all have our own problems to face.”

A knot tightens in Shepard’s stomach—so this is how it’s going to be. But she’s not giving up without a fight, so she squares her shoulders, marches up beside her friend, and stares the Council right in the face.

“The reports are all true,” she says. “Earth is under attack, by the Reapers, and our time is running out. And this is just the beginning. We need all the help we can get.”

The three alien councilors exchange a look, but ultimately Councilor Tevos is the one to answer Shepard.

“We all face a similar problem,” she says. “The Reapers are pressing on our borders, too, we can’t abandon the defense efforts to help Earth. Our own worlds will fall if we divert our resources.”

“Which is exactly why we need to work together,” Shepard says, hoping, praying, that the fire in her eyes and fury in her voice is enough. That this time, they’ll believe her. “None of us stand a chance against the Reapers on our own.”

“So you suggest we all combine our resources to save Earth?” Councilor Valern asks. “How is that fair?”

“No.” Shepard shakes her head. “I have a plan, a plan that I believe can destroy the Reapers, but we need everyone’s help on this.” She gestures to Liara, who calls up the blueprint on her omni-tool.

“This is a Prothean blueprint that we found in the Mars Archives,” she says. “This was created during their war with the Reapers, and the information on how to build it has been recorded meticulously.”

“What is it a blueprint for?” Councilor Sparatus asks.

“We’re… not entirely sure,” Liara admits. “But we believe it to be some type of weapon, powerful enough that it is capable of destroying the Reapers.”

Councilor Valern frowns, leaning forward to look at the blueprint. “The scale of it… the amount of resources required would be immense. It would be a colossal undertaking.”

“Which is why we need your help,” Shepard says. “I’ve already forwarded the plans to Admiral Hackett and the remnants of the Alliance’s fleet have begun gathering resources. It is eminently doable to construct, especially if everyone contributes.”

“The Reapers destroyed the Protheans.” Councilor Tevos shakes her head in dismissal. “Have you considered that? How powerful could this weapon be if it couldn’t save them?”

“The information in the blueprint suggests that it was incomplete when the Protheans built it,” Liara says. “There was a final component, referred to as the Catalyst, that they couldn’t finish in time. But if we can finish what they started, we can stop the Reapers.”

“But we need your help,” Shepard says. “While the Alliance has started gathering the resources for construction, it’s too big to do on our own. We need to stand together as a united front.”

Once again, the three alien councilors share a look, and a subtle shake of Councilor Valern’s head is the only warning Shepard gets that the Council is going to refuse to help. Again.

“Look, Commander,” Councilor Tevos starts to say. “The cruel and unfortunate truth is that while the Reapers are focused on Earth, we can better prepare our own defenses. Perhaps not all will be lost. If we can secure our own borders, perhaps we can once again consider aiding you. I’m sorry, but that’s the best we can do.”

Something inside Shepard snaps, and she forgets that they’re the Council and she’s just a disgraced spectre and lowly commander—forgets, or maybe she just doesn’t care about diplomacy and tact anymore.

“Do you really think that will be enough?” she asks. “The Reapers aren’t going to stop at Earth, they won’t stop until they destroy and conquer every single organic species in the galaxy. Your abandonment of Earth might buy you a few more months’ time, but it won’t save you. In the end, it won’t matter. The Reapers are not an enemy who can be defeated in a war of attrition, they don’t require resources and time means nothing to an ancient race of sentient machines. Our only hope is this blueprint, and you won’t even consider it?”

She starts pacing, but before the Council can say anything to reprimand her, she continues. “How dare you abandon Earth? How dare you act like this is an unfortunate event that no one could have expected? Three years ago, I warned you about the Reapers when I saw the Prothean beacon on Eden Prime. When I saw Sovereign on Virmire, I warned you again. When I learned about the conduit, when I went to Ilos, when I spoke with Vigil, I warned you. When Sovereign, Saren and the geth attacked the Citadel, I thought finally, at least they will listen now.”

She stops her pacing and looks them all directly in the eyes, one by one. “But still you dismissed me and ignored me and insinuated that I was delusional. When the Collectors started taking human colonies, I warned you again, and when I discovered the human Reaper they’d been building, once more I warned you. When I discovered irrefutable proof that the Reaper invasion was only moments away, when I destroyed the Alpha Relay, I warned you. At every single step of this journey for the past three years, I have warned you.”

She sucks in a deep breath. “And at every single step, you have brushed me off, refusing to even consider the possibility that I was right. Ashley Williams sacrificed herself on Virmire to stop this. I died to stop this. Thousands have died on Earth, and thousands more are dying as we speak. How many more must die before you realize that I am not an inconvenient thorn in your side, but the one person who has been trying to save the entire galaxy for the past three years? How can you look me in the eye and deny me help after every single fucking thing I’ve warned you about has come true?”

Her chest is heaving, angry tears are threatening to spill over and Udina has his head buried in her hands while the Council looks on in shock, but she doesn’t care. If the world is ending, may as well go out with a bang.

“Commander…” Councilor Tevos starts to say, but then trails off, and Shepard shakes her head.

“You know what? Go to hell. That’s where you’ve doomed us all. If you decide to grow a conscience and actually help us all survive, you know how to reach me.”

With that, she storms out of the room, not bothering to look back at whatever repercussions there might be from her outburst. Let the Council reprimand her all they want. What can they possibly do now, when the Reapers are on their doorstep and the world is ending?

Shepard’s waiting in a lounge on the Citadel when Liara comes out a few moments later.

“Well, that was certainly a memorable briefing,” she says, one corner of her mouth twitching slightly and Shepard can’t help but laugh.

“I know I shouldn’t have lost my temper, but… I can’t believe they’d still deny me help, after all that’s happened.”

“I know,” Liara says, sitting down next to her. “But we can still do this, Shepard. You can do this.”

“Me?” Shepard shakes her head. “I’m just one woman, Liara. I don’t have the pull or resources that the Council does.”

“You’re more than one woman and you know that,” Liara says, placing a hand over Shepard’s clenched fist. “You’re a legend. You’ve saved the galaxy before, and you can do it again. There are people—myself included—who will follow you to the ends of the world because we believe in you, even if the Council doesn’t.”

“A legend.” Shepard’s lips twist into a wry smile. “That’s what he called me once, on Horizon. A legend. And a ghost. Sometimes I think that second one is the more accurate description.”

“You should go see him,” Liara says gently. “Huerta Memorial has excellent care, I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Yeah,” Shepard says quietly. She does want to go visit Kaidan, but she’s also scared. Not necessarily scared that he’s dead, though there is still that slight fear that he won’t be okay. But as his commanding officer, they would have sent her a comm if he died or was in a precarious position, and she hasn’t gotten anything, so she has to assume no news is good news. No, the main reason she's scared is because she fears that he’ll be back on his feet in no time and nothing will change.

She's scared that he’ll still hate her. Scared that she’ll never be enough, that there’s too much damage done to their relationship, that the chasm between them can never be bridged.

But she’s Commander Shepard, hero of the Blitz, savior of the Citadel, and there’s a galaxy to save. Kaidan is just another soldier, she tells herself. No matter what, it will be okay. She’ll be okay. She has to be, for everyone’s sake, especially now that the Council has refused to help her.

A message pops up on her comm terminal, and her heart skips a beat, but it’s just Udina.

Meet me in my office, Shepard.

He no doubt wants to reprimand her for her outburst in front of the Council, and she sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, already feeling a headache coming on.

“Everything okay?” Liara asks and Shepard nods.

“Just Udina. He probably wants to yell at me about diplomacy and tact and decorum and respecting the chain of command, blah blah blah.” She opens up the message, pausing for a moment before she types. She needs to go see Kaidan, see with her own eyes that he’s okay. Udina can wait.

I have an errand to run first. I’ll be there in half an hour.

Liara frowns. “While your outburst to the Council was rather… unprecedented, surely even Udina can’t hold it against you too much. I can’t believe they’re refusing to help. Are you going to go see him?”

“Later,” Shepard says. “I need to see Kaidan first.”

“Of course. Do you want company, or would you rather go alone?”

Shepard considers for a moment. Liara is one of her closest friends and there’s no one Shepard trusts more and yet… she’s not sure she wants anyone by her side right now.

“I think alone,” she says. “I need some time to gather all my thoughts. I don’t suppose I can convince you to talk to Udina for me?”

Liara just smiles. “It will be fine, Shepard. You’ve dealt with Reapers, I’m sure you can handle Udina.”

“Okay, but if he’s too much of an asshole can you maybe threaten to flay him alive with your mind? Pretty please?”

Liara laughs. “I’ll meet you back here after you’ve gone to see Kaidan, and we can deal with Udina together.”

“Fine. Be back in half an hour, tops.”

Huerta Memorial is clean, calm, and quiet. That’s the first thing Shepard notices upon stepping through the doors. There’s a handful of doctors milling about, chatting quietly, and a news report plays in the background. The lobby has rows of seating, a kiosk for gifts, and lots of plants for fresh oxygen. In the peace of the lobby, it’s easy to forget that there’s a war going on.

Now that she’s there, Shepard realizes she doesn’t even know who the doctor in charge of Kaidan’s care is, or where he’s located, or anything. She didn’t comm ahead, she just… showed up.

She wanders over to the front desk to ask when she hears a familiar voice coming from the other side of the room, just barely audible.

There’s two doctors standing together, one with graying hair and her back turned, and the other, who faces Shepard, speaks with a notable French accent. Dr. Chakwas and Dr. Michel.

“Shepard!” Dr. Chakwas calls when she sees Shepard and waves her over.

“What are you doing here, Dr. Chakwas?” Shepard asks.

“I’ve been working at an R&D lab down in the Wards, working closely with Admiral Hackett,” she says. “But I heard that you’d escaped Earth in the Normandy and that someone was critically injured, so I rushed over.”

Shepard swallows around the lump in her throat that always crops up when she thinks about Kaidan, and the sight of the Cerberus operative bashing his head against the shuttle. “Yeah. We had a run-in with a Cerberus synthetic on Mars and… Kaidan got the worst of it. How’s he doing?”

“Dr. Michel has been his primary physician,” Dr. Chakwas says. “I’ve just been helping out, since I’ve worked with Major Alenko before. L2 biotics can make things tricky, but I’ve been impressed with his resilience. He’s been recovering quite well, all things considered, so you can breathe.”

Shepard smiles, slightly chagrined that she was that easy to read, but Dr. Chakwas served on both Normandy missions. Shepard and Kaidan tried to keep their relationship discreet, but most people on the ship knew that the two of them had feelings for each other. And when Shepard and Dr. Chakwas had indulged in a bottle of serrice ice brandy on the SR-2, a slightly tipsy Shepard had let it slip just how much she missed Kaidan, and how much his words to her on Horizon had hurt.

With the assurance that Kaidan is alive and recovering, Shepard lets out the tension in her shoulders and takes a deep breath. “That’s a relief to hear, thank you.”

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t have been there on the Normandy earlier,” Dr. Chakwas says. “But the medi-gel that was applied before he got here did a great deal to help.”

“You know,” Shepard says. “We could use a medic on the Normandy. We had to leave Earth in a rush, we don’t have a full complement. And it wouldn’t be the Normandy without you.”

“I would be delighted to serve onboard the Normandy again,” Dr. Chakwas says. “You say the word, and I’ll be there.”

“Docking bay D24,” Shepard says. “We have the essentials onboard, but grab any supplies you need and I’ll meet you there.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Dr. Chakwas says. “Go check on Major Alenko. Dr. Michel can fill you in on the details, but he’s doing well, Shepard. I’ll see you onboard the Normandy.”

Shepard nods and takes a deep breath to steel her nerves. Kaidan is alive and recovering. That’s all that matters. But she needs to know exactly what the prognosis is, she needs to know if there will be any long-term damage.

Dr. Michel had distanced herself to give Shepard and Dr. Chakwas room to talk, but Shepard sees her standing by the door, reading over a datapad, and walks over.

“Commander Shepard,” Dr. Michel says, looking up as Shepard approaches. “It’s good to see you’re doing well. We were all devastated to hear about Earth, but relieved that you managed to escape. I assume you’re here about Major Alenko?”

Shepard nods. “Dr. Chakwas said he’s recovering well, but that you could fill me in on the details.”

“He is a very resilient young man,” Dr. Michel says, offering Shepard a reassuring smile. “The head trauma was severe, but we managed to reduce the swelling quickly.”

She pauses, and dread settles into Shepard’s stomach. There’s something the doctor isn’t telling her. “But? It sounds like you’re holding something back.”

Dr. Michel shakes her head. “I don’t mean to worry you. He is stable and recovering well, but these types of injuries can go either way. He hasn’t regained consciousness yet, and it’s too hard to tell what potential long-term damage there might be until then. Especially since he is an L2 biotic. There was extensive damage to his implant.”

“What does that mean?” Shepard asks, her voice cracking slightly. “Will he be okay?”

“We can’t know for sure,” Dr. Michel says. “Not until he wakes up. He will likely be fine, but we don’t know what, if any, long-term damage there is. But his vitals are strong, and I am optimistic. You can go see him if you’d like, he’s just down the hall. First door on the right.”

Shepard chews on her lower lip and nods. “Thank you. I think I’ll go do that.”

“Have hope, Commander,” Dr. Michel says. “There is good reason to believe he will pull through this without any long-term effects.”

Shepard thanks the doctor again and says her farewells, then makes her way down the hallway, walking slowly as she processes all the information. Maybe it’s good that Kaidan isn’t awake yet—she’s not sure she can remain professional and neutral when she sees him, and it would be far too embarrassing for him to actually see her break down. Especially when he still hates her.

She pauses for a moment outside his door, trying to gather all her thoughts. Trying to prepare herself. “Here goes nothing,” she mutters and presses the button to open the door.

Kaidan is lying shirtless on a hospital bed—oh god, he’s shirtless, that should not be the first thing she notices about him, that’s not something she can think about anymore, she needs to focus—his face and chest mottled with bruises. Despite the injuries, he looks almost… peaceful. It makes her realize that every time she’s seen him lately, he’s been on edge, because of her, and that breaks her heart.

“Hey Kadain,” she says, her voice cracking as tears immediately start welling up in her eyes. This was why she needed to do this alone, this was why she couldn’t have Liara with her. Even with Liara, she’s afraid of being vulnerable. There’s only one person who she ever trusted herself to be vulnerable with, and he’s lying unconscious on a hospital bed.

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now,” she continues. “I don’t even know if you can hear me, but since you can’t tell me to get the hell out, either, I’m going to take my chances. You have to fight, okay? There’s a long fight ahead of us, and we need you in it. Seeing you in action again… it reminded me that you’re a hell of a soldier. You always have been, and you’ve only gotten more capable and confident since I last saw you.”

She pauses to wipe away the tears. “I need you, Kaidan. And I know you hate me right now. Maybe you always will, maybe what I’ve done is unforgivable, but I would rather you hate me and live than die loving me. So please. Live. Give us a chance. Give me a chance again. And even if you can’t do it for me, there’s a galaxy to save. Do it for Earth. Do it for the future of all organic species, but whatever you do, just live.”

A doctor walks in to check on his vitals, and Shepard hastily wipes away her remaining tears, ashamed at having been caught crying and pouring her heart out to her unconscious ex-lover, but the doctor looks unfazed. Maybe he deals with emotional confessions to unconscious people all the time.

“Let me know if there’s anything you need,” she says to the doctor, giving him the necessary information to contact her onboard the Normandy. “Anything at all.”

Her heart aches at the thought of just leaving Kaidan there, but there’s Udina to deal with and a galaxy to save, and she knows Kaidain’s in the best possible hands at Huerta Memorial. There’s nothing she can do if she stays, so she walks to the door, but she pauses in the doorframe to look back at Kaidan, lying there on the bed. “Fight, Kaidan. Stay alive. And that’s an order, soldier.”

Chapter Text

Kaidan wakes with a pained groan. His whole body aches, but his head and neck throb, with an intensity that makes him wish he were still unconscious. How did he get here? Oh, right. Mars. The Cerberus operative, Dr. Eva, slammed him against the shuttle. He’s half-surprised to be waking up in the hospital at all, he thought it was all over for him when he felt his skull crack with the impact.

“Major Alenko!” Kaidan looks up to find Dr. Chloe Michel walking through the door into his room, a datapad clutched in her hands. “It is good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

“Ungh,” Kaidan manages to ground out. “Alive, so I guess I can’t complain too much. What’s the damage, doc?”

“You had severe head trauma,” Dr. Michel says, her thick French accent dropping the Hs as she glances down at the datapad in her hands. “But you are a lucky man, Major. You have a hard skull, which protected your brain. We got the swelling down quickly, and there shouldn’t be any long-lasting issues.”

“A hard head is what saved me, huh?” Kaidan asks, chuckling slightly, but regretting it, as the movement makes his head throb more. Shepard had always accused him of being stubborn. Lily. The last thing he remembered was Lily yelling his name as Dr. Eva slammed him against the shuttle. He wants to ask Dr. Michel about Shepard, but something in her expression makes him pause.

“What is it?” he asks. “There’s something you haven’t told me.”

Dr. Michel sighs. “Your L2 implant was a bit… rattled. There were some hairline fractures.”

Kaidan swallows. “What does that mean?”

“It is hard to tell how severe the damage is,” Dr. Michel admits. “I would recommend keeping your biotics offline for now, while we monitor your condition. We may need to replace your implant, but I hope that won’t be necessary.”

Kaidan swallows nervously. His L2 implant had, in many ways, been a disaster. He’d suffered through years of crippling migraines that came on when he pushed his biotics too far. But his L2 implant has also allowed him to spike higher, and it has been a source of pride. Especially when he taught himself how to reave. It feels like part of his identity now, and he isn’t sure how to process the possibility of changing it. It seems such a trivial issue, when there’s the threat of annihilation by the Reapers at hand, but it gives him pause nonetheless.

“I… good to know, thanks,” Kaidan says. There’s a moment of silence, then he voices the other issue on his mind. Shepard. There were so many things he said to her on Mars, things he shouldn’t have, things that he regrets… he needs to know that she’s okay. That he can try and make it up to her.

“Has there been any word from Shepard or the Normandy?” he asks.

Dr. Michel smiles, the look slightly conspiratorial. “She was here to visit you earlier, actually. And there are reports from Battlespace, broadcasting from the Normandy. You can watch it on the feeds.”

“Shepard was here?” Kaidan asks, trying to ignore the way his heart beats faster at the news. If she was here… if she’d come to visit him… maybe he hadn’t fucked it up too badly. He needed to have a conversation with her, about them, and about her past with Cerberus and her death and his grief and where they stood. That’s all he’d been trying to do on Mars, but everything had come out so wrong.

Dr. Michel nods. “She stopped by shortly after you were out of surgery.”

“Thanks,” Kaidan says. He pauses, absorbing the information. “You said something about ‘Battlespace’?”

“It’s a news report straight from the Normandy,” Dr. Michel says, turning on the terminal above Kaidan’s bed so he can see for himself. “It has the latest information on the fight against the Reapers.”

“… the turian Primarch has been safely rescued from Palaven,” the woman on the feed was saying. “The Reaper threat on Palaven is severe, but the turians are making a valiant attempt to hold them off. Efforts are underway to hold a war summit with the turian, salarian and krogan leaders to discuss the war effort and how to best deal with the Reaper threat. It remains to be seen if these varied races, with their sordid shared history, can work together peacefully, but Commander Shepard leads the effort. This is Diana Allers with Battlespace, reporting live from the Normandy.”

Kaidan sinks back into his pillows, thinking about what had just been said. Of course Shepard was trying to bring the races together—that was what she did best, wasn’t it? She’d always had a way with words. He’d seen the way she’d talked down Wrex on Virmire, despite the fact that a genophage cure was all Wrex wanted. He’d seen the way she’d faced down journalists like Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, how she’d never blinked in the face of so much hatred, and had managed to come out the victor, rising above the biased, unfair criticisms and swaying everyone to her side.

Hell, she’d even talked down Saren, who had been indoctrinated by Sovereign, and had managed to convince him that he was nothing more than a tool. It was the same charismatic nature and sheer determination that had enabled her to rally civilians during the Blitz and hold off the Batarian attackers.

Kaidan knows it would take nothing short of a miracle to get the turians, salarians and krogans to agree to work together. But he also knows that if anyone can do it, it’s Lily, and he feels pride swell in his chest.

That’s my girl.

When he was first assigned to the Normandy, he’d been slightly star-struck by her—everyone had heard of her actions during the Blitz, and how she’d single-handedly kept the batarian forces at bay until reinforcements arrived. It was an honor to serve with her, but he’d never imagined that their professional relationship would become a friendship and then blossom into a beautiful romance. He never imagined that behind the steely façade of Commander Shepard was Lily— a tender, beautiful soul.

And then he lost her. And then he fucked up the chance to try and get her back. He just needed to know that it was her, that Cerberus hadn’t changed her, that he wouldn’t get his heart broken again if he took the leap of faith to be with her. But all his words had come out wrong, too harsh, too accusatory.

“Major?” Dr. Michel prompts, pulling him out of his thoughts. “How are you feeling? I can increase your pain medication, if needed.”

Kaidan shakes his head. “I’m okay, but thank you.”

Dr. Michel nods. “I’ll let you get some rest.” After checking his vitals, she exits his room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Kaidan glances at the datapad lying next to his bed. Should he send a message to Shepard? But what would he even say? ‘Hey, I’m sorry for being an ass to you on Mars, I didn’t mean it’? Too blasé. Sighing, he picks up the datapad and begins typing up a message.

Hey, I’m sorry for the things I said on Mars. I was trying to protect myself and process what had happened, because losing you broke me, and I can’t go through that again. And I’m sorry I’m an ass, but I miss you and I miss us, and for the love of God, please stay safe out there.

He pauses, looks it over. Frowns. Sets the datapad back down again. It somehow seems like too much and not enough all at once. How does he explain his mindset without furthering the damage? How does one recover from the fact that the love of their life died but then was brought back by a terrorist organization and worked for them for a while?

The Shepard he thought he knew never would have. And he just needs to understand, to explain where he’s coming from, and hear what happened from her, but he can’t seem to stop putting his foot in his mouth. He knows he should have spoken to her earlier, when she was under house arrest. He knows he should have reached out, he knows that she was alone and isolated and that he only made things worse between them by ignoring her.

Hell, going back further, he knows he shouldn’t have said what he did on Horizon. But he also knows he is a weak man. After losing Lily, he was in a very dark place for a very long time, and he can’t go back to that. He can’t put himself out there, put his heart on the line, and then lose her again. He just can’t. There are so many things that he wants to say to her, but every time he tries, he trips over his words and says the exact wrong thing.

It feels like they’re at a crossroads. He’s hurt her, and he knows that. Either he figures out how to repair the damage he’s caused, or he risks losing her forever. And it’s a terrifying thought, the idea of losing her. But it’s also terrifying trying to think of the right words to say—he’s not like her. He’s not a leader. He’s always been a good soldier, good at following orders, good at following the chain of command, good at not rocking the boat. The last time he rocked the boat was at BAaT and look where that got him—Vyrnnus dead and Rahna terrified of him.

He wants to just be done with it, to skip over the hard part of figuring out what to say, and to just make Lily understand why he acted the way he did. He doesn’t want to make himself vulnerable, doesn’t know how to find the words to explain his thought processes and why he said those hurtful things. On Horizon, on Mars. But he knows if he wants to be worthy of her, he has to try.

He picks up the datapad again, starts drafting another message to her.

Sighing, Shepard tilts back her coffee mug, only to find it empty, a last few pitiful drops slowly sliding down the walls of the mug. She frowns and tilts it back further, as if that might somehow replenish the contents. When had she run out of coffee? She’s neck-deep in reports from Palaven and Sur’Kesh. There’s reports about the increasingly bad situation on Palaven, and the turians’ failing efforts to hold them at bay. They won’t be able to hold out much longer. And she needs coffee if she has any hope of getting anything done.

They need the sheer force and resilience of the krogans, but the krogans hate the turians and will only help out if they have a cure for the genophage, but the salarians won’t help if the genophage is cured. How is she supposed to bring these three antagonistic groups together?

She groans and rubs her temples, trying in vain to stave off the incoming headache. Whether it’s from caffeine withdrawal, stress or both, she’s not sure—probably both, if she’s being honest—but it makes her just want to lie down. Lie down and wake up and have this not be happening.

“Rough day?” a familiar voice says from the doorway, and Shepard looks up, a smile tugging at her lips as she sees Garrus leaning against the frame.

“Oh, you know,” she says, trying to keep her voice light. “Just going over some reports about how the galaxy is fractured and on the brink of destruction and I might be the only one who can save it.”

“So, an ordinary day for you, then,” Garrus smirks, and Shepard can’t help but laugh.

“Pretty much, yeah,” she says, leaning back in her chair. But her smile and casual façade drop easily, too much effort to keep up. This is bigger than anything they’ve faced before, and they both know it. This is what they’ve been afraid of ever since Shepard first made sense of the Prothean beacon she found on Eden Prime.

This is all their worst nightmares coming true—or at least all her worst nightmares, everyone else had been too quick to dismiss it as paranoid delusions. This is why humanity isn’t ready to join the Spectres, let alone the Council, they said behind her back. Saren is a rogue Spectre, nothing more. The Collectors are only taking colonies on the fringes of the Traverse, and humanity should know better than to build colonies out there. Commander Shepard is just grasping at straws. Reapers? Yeah, right.

If it weren’t so depressing, the irony that the very people who had dismissed her claims the hardest had come crawling to her begging for help in the end might be funny. Almost. Maybe if it didn’t come with the price of millions of lives.

“So… what did I miss?” Garrus asks. “I heard the Reapers hit Earth. How bad is it?”

“Even worse than Palaven,” Shepard admits. Seeing Palaven… on Earth, she’d just been trying to escape. She was there when the Reapers landed, and she left before people had time to properly formulate a defense response. There were ragtag groups here and there, stray Alliance marines trying to fight as best they could, but it was organized chaos at best. She’d hoped that maybe, in time, the Alliance could pull together.

But on Palaven, she could see just how bad it was. She could see the difference that only a few hours had made. She could see that, even with the organizational skills of the turian Hierarchy’s military, it was a losing battle against the Reapers. And it would only continue to get worse unless she somehow pulled off a miracle.

But how is she supposed to focus when every second, Earth is being decimated by Reaper forces? Every time she closes her eyes, all she sees is fires burning from Reaper lasers, people screaming, the boy she couldn’t save.

“Shit,” Garrus mumbles, pulling Shepard out of her thoughts. “I was hoping… I don’t know what I was hoping. I guess we were all hoping that it wouldn’t come to this. If only people had listened to you back when we were fighting Saren, huh?”

“Saren.” Shepard laughs slightly and shakes her head. “Doesn’t that seem like a million years ago? Back when you were C-Sec, and I wasn’t even a Spectre yet.”

“Don’t remind me of C-Sec,” Garrus groans. “Leaving to join your command was the best thing I ever did. I was never a good C-Sec officer, teaming up with you changed my life.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Garrus,” Shepard says. “Saren and Sovereign. The fight against the Collectors. You’ve been there with me every step of the way, even when… even when others weren’t.” She trips over her words slightly, thinking of Kaidan.

He should have been there.

Kaidan had been with her from the very beginning, even before Saren. He’d been there before she took command of the Normandy, when she was just Anderson’s XO. When she was excited for Eden Prime, excited for the opportunity to prove herself, excited to potentially join the Spectres. And then he abandoned her when she needed him the most.

“How are you doing?” Garrus asks, but before she can answer, he holds up a hand and cuts her off. “Honestly. How are you holding up?”

“Not… great,” Shepard admits. “Palaven was rough. Being there, on the ground, fighting the Reapers… it’s made me realize how hard this fight is going to be. That, and I’m still pretty shaken up about Mars.”

“I heard about Kaidan,” Garrus says, offering Shepard a sympathetic grimace. “How’s he doing?”

“I’m not really sure.” Shepard bites her lip and glances down, trying to push down the painful feelings that arise when she thinks about seeing Kaidan slammed into the shuttle. “He’s awake now, and stable, but last I heard, the doctors still have a few concerns.”

Garrus opens his mouth to say something else, but he’s cut off by the soft ping of an incoming message on Shepard’s datapad.

Frowning, Shepard picks it up, wondering who it is, and what new favor is demanded of her. What other impossible task she must try and accomplish. Hackett would probably contact her in the comm room—Anderson, too. The fact that it’s coming through as a private message, and not to the Normandy, gives her hope it’s not too serious.

What she’s expecting, she isn’t really sure, but she’s definitely not expecting to see Kaidan’s name pop up on the screen. She can’t stop her breath from catching in her throat, or her heart from beating faster in anticipation, much as she hates herself for it.

“Shepard?” Garrus asks. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she says softly, staring at the notification, not daring to open it yet. New message from Kaidan Alenko. Subject line: I’m awake. “It’s… it’s from Kaidan.”

“Ah, I’ll… give you some privacy,” Garrus says, picking himself up from where he was leaning against the wall and exiting the room.

Shepard taps to open the message, equal parts fearful and hopeful as to what it might say.

Hey Shepard,

I’m alive and awake. I guess that’s obvious, hard to send you a message otherwise. I’m okay, but doc still wants to keep me in the hospital for a little while. We never really had a chance to talk, and I said some things on Mars that I regret. I hate to leave things between us on such a bad note. There’s a lot more that I want to say, but I’d rather do it in person. When you have a chance, could you swing by Huerta Memorial?

Stay safe out there, Commander.

-Kaidan

 Shepard exhales slowly, taking in the message, poring over every word the way she did with his message after Horizon. He called her Shepard and Commander, not Lily. Still so formal. But at least it was better than ma’am, and at least he was reaching out.

I said some things on Mars that I regret. Part of her is relieved—it feels like a weight off her chest to know that Kaidan maybe doesn’t hate her and, even more, feels remorse for his hurtful words. A small weight, compared to everything else she’s dealing with, but a weight nonetheless.

But there’s another part of her that can’t help but feel irked— ‘some things he regrets’? He’d accused her of working with Cerberus, of betraying the Alliance, of being complicit in the mass murder of innocent scientists on Mars. He’d insinuated that she had a control chip in her brain, that she was no more than a husk, a puppet for the Illusive Man. And all he could manage was that he had ‘some regrets’?

Maybe it’s unfair to judge him so harshly based on the email alone—after all, he did say there was more he wanted to discuss in person. With a sigh, she looks down at the tangled mess of information sitting on her desk. She’s been trying to piece it all out, to figure out how to appease the krogans and get them to support the turians, who can then in turn help out the humans, but somehow without making an enemy out of the salarians. There’s more work that needs to be done before she can take a break for personal visits, but maybe, with a little luck, she’ll be able to find time to visit Kaidan in the next day or two.

One thing’s for sure—they are long overdue for a talk, and while saving the galaxy is her top priority, she needs a clear head to accomplish what needs to be done. And one way or another, things with Kaidan need to be resolved.

Kaidan’s watching the news feeds on repeat when Udina walks in. He’s started physical therapy now, which gets him out of the bed, but he’s still battered and bruised, and Dr. Michel wants him to rest, so Udina’s visit shakes him out of his boredom—something which is very much appreciated, if surprising.

“Councilor,” Kaidan says, looking up from the television. “This is a surprise. What can I do for you?”

“There’s an issue I wanted to discuss with you,” Udina says, sitting down in a chair next to Kaidan. “I’ll be frank. This war is bad, and we need more people on our side. There are too many rules and regulations that are holding back our soldiers, fine men and women like yourself. That’s why I want you to become a Spectre.”

Kaidan blinks in surprise. “I… I don’t know what to say,” he starts to say. Him? A Spectre? Just like that? No mission to test and see if he’s worthy? No Spectre to watch him and see how he measures up? No fight to be accepted and recognized, like Shepard had to do?

“Why me?” he says eventually.

“You’ve proven yourself, Major,” Udina says. “You helped stop Saren. You protected colonies during the Collector attacks. And throughout it all, you’ve remained true to the Alliance.”

The ‘unlike Shepard’ hangs in the air, unspoken, but implied. Kaidan knows Udina and Shepard have never gotten along—Udina has always wanted Shepard to be his tool, his wedge in the door to further the cause of humanity. And while he can’t blame Udina for wanting to use Shepard’s accomplishments to help all of humanity, he knows how Shepard has always chafed at others trying to control her. She’s far too stubborn for that. Tell her that something is impossible, and she’ll go out of her way just to prove you wrong. Tell her she can’t do something, and she’ll double down and insist on doing it even more.

But now he feels like he’s using Shepard and her accomplishments. He doesn’t deserve to be a Spectre. Shepard took down Saren, Shepard saved the colonies from the Collector attacks. He was on Horizon, but he couldn’t do anything. She was the one to get the defense towers up and running, to hold off the Collectors as long as they did. She was the reason they managed to save some of the colony, not him. He was just there. He’s always just been there, riding her coattails, by her side, helping her out while she does the real work.

Except when he wasn’t. Except when he abandoned her on Horizon. Except when he ignored her during the months she was on house arrest at Alliance headquarters. Except when he accused her on Mars.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now,” Udina says. “Just think about it.” He taps a command into his omni-tool, and the datapad by Kaidan’s bed beeps.

“I’ve sent over the information and the official forms,” Udina says, straightening up and brushing off his jacket. “Think it over. But I will need an answer by the end of the week, Major.”

“Of course,” Kaidan says. “Thank you, Councilor.”

He picks up the datapad and skims over the information, his eyes skipping over the lines, barely taking it in. The whole thing feels surreal and somehow wrong. Even being promoted to Major felt like an overestimation of his abilities, praise for things he never did. Shepard should be the one receiving praise, being promoted through the ranks of the Alliance, but instead they ostracized her. They shut her out, shut her down, and doubted her at every step of the way.

And now that they had irrefutable proof of the Reapers they wanted to make him a Spectre? For what? So they have their safe human Spectre? Someone who doesn’t rock the boat, someone who does as he’s told, someone who won’t tell the Council to go to hell when they screw him over?

He sighs, rubbing his temples. He’s a true-blue Alliance marine, and he wants nothing more than to serve, to play his part in this war and stop the Reapers. And if becoming a Spectre helps with that, he will take it. No question. But he can’t shake the fact that the whole thing makes him slightly uncomfortable.

The door opens with a soft woosh and he looks up, expecting Udina. “Back already? I—oh.”

Instead of Udina, Shepard is there, in the doorway, her blonde hair piled high on her head, her expression stoic and neutral but perhaps just a tiny bit nervous. Or maybe that’s just him.

“I got your message,” she says after a minute. “Um… is now a good time?”

Kaidan stares at her for a moment, but then he blinks, and waves her in. “Please. It’s good to see you, Shepard. When you didn’t respond to my message, I wasn’t sure if you would be coming by.”

Right. His message. With all the chaos of the past few days, she’d completely forgotten to respond.

“Right, sorry,” she says, sitting down in the chair by the side of his bed, perched carefully on the edge. “Things have been… it’s been a lot. I meant to respond, but it slipped my mind.”

Kaidan waves off her concern. “It’s okay. It’s good to see you, I’m getting stir-crazy in here. Doc says I’m good to go, but then they keep finding just one more test to run.”

“How are you feeling?” Shepard asks, raking her eyes over his form. He’s still heavily bruised, especially around his neck and face, but he looks good. Strong. She tries not to look at his bare chest, tries not to think about his chiseled muscles, or how good he looks and how it makes her miss him with an aching that physically hurts.

She fails in this endeavor.

“I’m fine,” Kaidan says. “A little stiff and sore still, but I’m ready to get up and get back into the fight. I hate just waiting around, you know?”

Shepard laughs. “You don’t have to convince me, Alenko, I get it.” She thinks of all the times there was a close call on the battlefield, all the times she came back a little broken, a little bruised, and Dr. Chakwas had to all but physically hold her down and convince her to rest for a moment.

Of course, there was never as close a call as this, never an injury quite so bad as Kaidan’s, but she understands the sentiment.

“Oh, I brought you this,” she says, pulling the bottle of whiskey she’d just picked up out of the gift bag. “A little pick me up, I guess.”

“Thanks, Shepard,” Kaidan says. “You know me well. I’m not too sure doc will want me drinking while I’m still recovering, but maybe once I’m out, we can crack it open to celebrate the fact that Cerberus failed to kill me.”

If he’s casually name-dropping Cerberus to see how she responds, he won’t get a rise out of her that easily. She’s not going to have a repeat of what happened on Mars. If he wants to talk about it, they can talk about it like the two rational adults that they are.

“That sounds good,” she says instead, steering clear of the Cerberus topic. There’s a pause. “So… I’m glad to see you, and see that you’re okay. But was there a specific reason you asked me here?”

I said some things on Mars that I regret. She can’t stop thinking about that line in his letter, can’t stop wondering if he means it or how much he means it.

“Yeah.” Kaidan shifts in the bed, pulling himself slightly more upright, and the sheet falls further, giving Shepard a full view of his bare, toned stomach. There’s a faint scar on his chest, arcing under his right pectoral. She remembers lying in bed with him, absentmindedly tracing it with her finger, asking him about it. Sharing the stories of their scars with each other, both physical and mental.

“Well, there were a few things I wanted to talk about, I guess,” he says. “Right before you came, Udina was here. He… offered to make me a Spectre.”

Shepard’s eyes widened. Kaidan? A Spectre? She knows he’d make a wonderful Spectre, and she’s delighted for him, but if she’s honest with herself, there’s a slight part of her that’s hurt, too. She had fought so hard to be inducted into the Spectres. It was an uphill battle, a struggle that only paid off because the Council didn’t want to take responsibility for Saren, so they let her deal with it instead.

And now Kaidan’s offered a position, just like that?

“That’s great,” she says. It is great, she reminds herself. She might have led the team that stopped Saren and Sovereign, but he was still a key player. “You’re taking it, right?”

“I’m not sure,” Kaidan admits. “I guess I wanted your advice. It’s a great honor, but a huge responsibility, too, you know? I just… need to be sure. I don’t want to rush into this without thinking it over.”

Shepard nods. “I understand. But for what it’s worth, Kaidan, I think you’d be a great Spectre.”

“Thank you,” he says. “That… that means a lot. Especially coming from you.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and Shepard bites her lip—should she broach the topic or wait for him to bring it up? What if he was referring to something else in his letter? What if he is just going to accuse her of being a mindless, soulless husk again?

“Shepard, I—” Kaidan starts to say, at the same time as Shepard decides to take the plunge and ask him what he meant.

“Kaidan—sorry,” she says, breaking off. “You go first.”

“I… are we okay?” he asks, then frowns. “No. I guess what I mean is I want us to be okay, and… I know I said some hurtful things. On Mars. On Horizon. I shouldn’t have accused you of knowing more than you let on, I know that wasn’t fair.”

You’re damn straight it wasn’t fair, she thinks, but getting angry isn’t going to solve this. “Are we okay?” she asks, thinking over the question. “Truthfully, Kaidan? I… I don’t know. But I want us to be, too. I’ve missed you.”

I love you, she thinks, but she can’t say that. Can’t put her heart on the line. Not right now, not yet. Everything still feels too fragile and frayed, and she’s scared. Call it abandonment issues stemming from her childhood, call it fear of vulnerability, call it what you will. But this truce with Kaidan is still too new and tender, and she fears breaking it—and breaking herself—by putting herself out there.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you,” he says, shifting on the bed, clearly uncomfortable. “I never meant to imply that you were like those Cerberus soldiers, those… husks.”

He breaks off with a shiver, and Shepard shivers, too. Hollow, sunken eyes, blackened lips, protruding veins on the face. It strikes the perfect balance between human and uncanny, and terror seeps into her bones, knowing that that could have been her, that was almost her, maybe that should have been her.

The memory of finding the Cerberus soldier like that is seared into her brain, and she doesn’t think she can ever forget it. Was that what she looked like when she died? Was that what Kaidan thought of her?

Shepard sighs. “I know there’s been a lot of tension between us, and we never had a chance to discuss, well… anything. A lot has happened, and we haven’t been able to talk about it. But I’m still me, Kaidan.” She places a hand over his on the bed. “That hasn’t changed, and that won’t ever change.”

Kaidan opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again and looks away, and Shepard’s heart sinks. Whatever’s on his mind, it can’t be good if he won’t even look at her.

“Is there something else?” she asks him.

“Yeah, I just—” he breaks off with a sigh. “Shepard, when you served with Cerberus… did something happen between you and one of the soldiers under your command?”

Shepard straightens up, and pulls her hand away, suddenly knowing where this conversation is going. No. Not this. She’s dreaded the possibility of him bringing it up, feared how he might react, and she needs to choose her words very carefully, or else she risks either breaking down or snapping at him, and neither would be productive right now.

“What makes you say that?”

He looks back at her now, resignation and something else—resentment? —in his eyes. “Shepard, you know how fast gossip spreads within the Alliance. And especially about you, everyone knows who you are. And everyone knows that you had something with Jacob Taylor.”

“How could you do that to me, Shepard? You betrayed the Alliance and you betrayed me.”

Kaidan’s harsh words cut deep, and she knows that it’s over between them. Perhaps for good. There’s a mission coming up that’s big, bigger than Saren and Sovereign, and she knows the odds are slim for making it out alive. And then there’s Jacob. Sweet, loyal Jacob, who lets her cry on his shoulder, who supports her and helps her see the good in Cerberus, even though she still doesn’t trust the Illusive Man.

And they both agree that they don’t want anything serious, but they each have ghosts from their pasts haunting them, and the prospect of going through the Omega 4 relay is terrifying, even for hardened soldiers like them. They both need some comfort. So, what’s the harm in blowing off some steam together? Friends with benefits starts to look awfully tempting. But they’re friends, first and foremost, right?

So why doesn’t he call when she’s under house arrest? Why doesn’t he respond to her emails? Why does he abandon her when she needs someone in her corner? Why does everyone always abandon her in the end?

Shepard takes a deep breath to steel herself and gather her thoughts before she looks up at Kaidan. “Yes, Jacob and I were involved. It was a casual relationship, and quite frankly, none of your business. After what happened on Horizon, after the things you said… it was quite clear that our relationship was over.”

Kaidan hangs his head. “I guess that’s fair. I take responsibility for the things I said on Horizon, seeing you alive again… it sent me spinning, and I handled it badly. And I’m sorry for that. I just… I just want you to know that for me, there’s no one else. There never has been.”

Shepard tries to ignore the way her heart speeds up at that, thumping almost painfully in her chest as a mix of hope, fear and excitement hit her all at once. Did he mean…? She doesn’t want to get her hopes up—even if he does mean that, there’s still too much baggage, too many things they haven’t addressed.

Rushing into a relationship again, without talking about what happened, would be a disaster, and she won’t do that. Not with Kaidan.

 “There isn’t anyone for me, either,” she says softly. Whatever she and Jacob had was casual at best, and in the past now anyways. Thinking about him stings, but not because she still loves him—she’s not sure she ever did, he was her friend and confidant more than anything else. Kaidan’s always been the only one for her.

Kaidan’s eyes widen and he exhales. “Good. That’s… I wasn’t sure. But I appreciate hearing about it from you, Shepard. Just hearing Alliance scuttlebutt… I wasn’t sure what had happened.”

“It’s complicated,” Shepard says, hesitating as she tries to think what to say. They need to have a proper conversation about everything, but not now. Not here, in this sterile hospital room, where Kaidan is still recovering. “And I don’t want to push too much too soon. Isn’t it enough to have just cleared the air for now?”

“You’re probably right,” Kaidan says, leaning back into his pillows with a sigh. “I guess there’s a lot about your life onboard the SR-2 when fighting the Collectors that I don’t know about, but… I’d like the chance to.”

“I’d like that, too,” Shepard says, a faint smile tugging over her lips. Their truce is a fragile one, but it’s a truce nonetheless. “I should let you get some more rest.”

“And I should let you get back to the Normandy,” Kaidan says. “Wish I could go with you, though.”

Shepard laughs at the wistfulness in his expression, the pure longing to get back to the fight, to do anything other than rest. It’s a look she recognizes well. “Hopefully soon. Let me know if you need me to break you out of here.”

“I just might take you up on that,” Kaidan says. “Take care of yourself out there, Lily.”

It’s the first time he’s used her name, and he hesitates, tripping over his words just a tiny bit, as if the shape of her name in his mouth is unfamiliar after all this time. Shepard knows there’s more they need to address, she knows that one conversation isn’t enough to heal the hurt he caused with his harsh words on Horizon and Mars.

But it’s a start. A real, solid start, which is more than she dared to hope for after all the things he said on Mars. And right now, that’s all she needs.

Chapter Text

Kaidan is cleared to leave Huerta Memorial just long enough for his official induction into the Spectres. He tried convincing the doctors that he felt fine, that he was ready to go back on duty, but they insisted on keeping him just a little bit longer—complications with his damaged implant, he was told. Nothing to worry about, nothing that couldn’t be fixed, but they just needed to run a few more tests, keep him under watch for just a little while longer.

He’s restless and stir crazy, but at least he’s allowed a brief respite from his hospital bed for the Spectre induction ceremony. He doesn’t even have to go far.

“I’m sorry there isn’t more formality,” Udina says as Kaidan met him outside of the Council’s chambers. “With the war, everything is rushed, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less a worthy candidate for the Spectres, Major.”

“Thank you, Udina,” Kaidan says. “And don’t worry about it, I’m not much one for formality anyways.”

In some way, he’s glad for the lack of formality, the lack of pomp that usually came part and parcel with the military. He still has his doubts about being named Spectre—it‘s an honor, but is it one he deserves? Shepard was the one to stop the Collectors. Shepard was the one to save Horizon. Shepard was the one to delay the Reaper invasion by destroying the Alpha relay.

And he just sat back and watched the woman he’s always loved take on high-risk mission after high-risk mission, doing everything she could to save the galaxy, even when most of the galaxy turned its back on her. No, he did worse than that—he questioned her motives, he doubted her, he hurt her.

And now they’re making him Spectre. Not too long ago, it was a fight for Shepard to be bestowed the honor. Not too long ago, the Council balked at the idea of a human Spectre, but now they’re happy to have two? Without any trial period, without any tests to see if he’s worthy?

He’s glad to have the opportunity, he’ll do whatever needs to be done to fight this war, but he can’t help the uneasy feeling in his gut that says he’s being ushered in as a replacement for Shepard. Especially now that Udina is the human Councilor, and he knows how much Udina and Shepard have always clashed.

“Major?” Udina asks, and Kaidan realizes Udina has already started up the steps and is now waiting for him.

“Sorry,” Kaidan says, jogging to catch up as he pushes the thoughts out of his mind. Whatever the reason may be for making him Spectre, it is an honor, and one he will gladly accept.

The Council chambers are just as they’ve always been—soft lighting streaming in through the high windows, delicate blossoms on carefully placed trees giving the air a perfumed scent. Here, in the vast chambers, with the silent murmurs of the gathered crowd, it’s easy to forget that there’s a war going on. He wonders if the Council finds it easy to forget, too, as secluded as they are. The Citadel is the safest place in the galaxy, and the Council has always presided over galactic affairs from their high pedestal, hidden away from the gruesome details of war. Blind to the realities that Kaidan has faced.

Maybe that’s why Shepard could never see eye-to-eye with them—she’d never had much patience for bureaucracy, and they either couldn’t or didn’t want to understand the reality of the situation outside the walls of their chambers. He fights down a smile as a memory comes to mind—Lily, in the comms room of the SR-1, angrily telling the Council to go to hell and hanging up on them after they refused, yet again, to take the Reaper threat seriously. He had never before seen her lose her temper like that, he’d never seen that side of her before.

Seeing her let loose like that, seeing her let down her guard and say what they’d all been thinking had just made him fall deeper in love with her.

“Major Alenko, please step forward,” Councilor Tevos says once Kaidan approaches the pedestal where they are gathered and Udina takes his place beside them.

With a shaky inhale, Kaidan does so, unsure why he’s suddenly nervous—being a Spectre is a big honor, yes, but he’s not usually one for nerves.

“Becoming a Spectre is a great honor,” Tevos continues. “And a great responsibility. Humanity was only recently deemed ready to join the elite ranks, but you have proven yourself these past few years in your service not just to the Alliance, but to the galactic community as a whole.”

“Spectres are the right hand of the Council,” Councilor Sparatus adds on, and Kaidan wonders if he’s imagining the extra emphasis on these words, as if to remind Kaidan that he would be expected to fall in line, to not make waves the way Shepard always had. “They serve not just their own race, but all Citadel races as they uphold galactic peace.”

“Now, more than ever, we need brave soldiers like you,” Councilor Valern says. “Those who were forged in the fires of combat, those whose actions speak for themselves. Spectres are the first and last line of defense against enemies who threaten galactic safety.”

“By joining these elite ranks, you represent the best that humanity has to offer,” Udina says, the pride in his voice evident. “I know you will not let us down, Major.”

“Thank you,” Kaidan says when it’s clear that the Councilors have finished speaking. He straightens up, squares his shoulders, looks each Council member in the eye. He’s aware of the cameras around him, of the few dozen people gathered in the council chambers. He’s aware of how much this means, the significance this is carrying.

I wonder if Lily is watching.

“It is a great honor to be inducted into the Spectres, and even more so to be only the second human permitted to join,” he says. “I am humbled by your trust in me, and I will do everything I can to live up to your expectations.”

“The Citadel is the heart of the galactic community,” Tevos says. “It is a fortress, but with war closing in around us, we need to ensure our defenses are strong. The battle with Sovereign and Saren’s geth proved that the Citadel is not invulnerable, and we cannot let that happen again.”

“I’ll adjust your clearance levels and send you the relevant security information,” Udina says. “Once you’re fully cleared for combat again, we will discuss the appropriate placement for you. You will be a great asset in this war, Major. Go rest up so you’re back in fighting shape. Meeting adjourned.”

The moment Udina officially adjourns the meeting, Kaidan is swarmed with reporters.

“Major Alenko! How does it feel to be the second ever human to join the Spectres?”

“What are you going to do to help the war effort? How will you make a difference?”

“Does joining the Spectres mean you are turning your back on humanity? We need the Alliance, not the Council!”

“Major Alenko, years ago, you stood by the disgraced Commander Shepard’s side as she warned of ‘Reapers,’ a rather fantastical idea. But your track record with the Alliance is impressive—as you join the Spectres, are you replacing her or joining her?”

Kaidan brushes past the reporters, but he pauses at that last question. Disgraced Commander Shepard. How he hates that. She died a hero when the SR-1 went down, and the galaxy mourned her death. They held her to the highest ideal, they touted her as the best of the best, she was all but a saint in the eyes of the public. And then she came back and made the hard choices necessary to save the galaxy again. But because she broke a few rules while doing it, because she made those hard choices, they vilified her and denounced her. As if she hadn’t been their savior in the past.

And I was no better, he thinks, the guilt and shame settling deep into the pit of his stomach. He brushed her off on Horizon, and then again on Mars. He’s doubted her and questioned her motives time and again—never with the intent of hurting her, but does that even matter?

He feels like a hypocrite for getting angry at the reporter for calling her disgraced, but he’s not going to sit back and do nothing, either. Not again.

“Commander Shepard represents the best of humanity,” he says, turning to address the reporter. “She was and is the first human Spectre, and I would not be standing here today if she had not paved the path for me. For all of humanity. The Reapers are real, and they are at our doorstep. Shepard is leading the war effort, and we should all consider ourselves grateful for that. I join the Spectres not as a replacement for her, but as an additional example of what humanity can accomplish if we set our minds to it.”

“But—” the reporter started to say, and Kaidan held up a hand to cut her off.

“I understand the concerns that humanity has right now.” Reapers. Galactic war. The threat of extinction. Who wouldn’t be concerned?

“I share them as well,” he continues. “And while I cannot speak to the specifics of my classified missions as a Spectre, I assure you I am doing everything I can, and I am still a Major in the Systems Alliance. This is where humanity needs me most right now. I will not be taking further questions at this time, thank you.”

He brushes past the reporters, ignoring the clamor behind him, the questions, the cameras being shoved in his face. Instead, he takes a deep breath and heads towards the elevator to take him back to Huerta Memorial. Despite his protests that he’s fine and fit for battle, the truth is, he still aches. If they wanted him to return to combat tomorrow, he would in a heartbeat, no questions asked. He longs for the battlefield; he longs to do something.

And, if he’s being honest with himself, he longs for the Normandy. For Shepard. He longs for the chance to make things right, to reclaim what they used to have. He’s tired of walking on eggshells, he’s tired of feeling like they’re galaxies apart even when she’s sitting next to him. But there are more important things right now, and as much as he longs to be back in the fight, he’s not quite at a hundred percent yet. His body could do with the extra rest.

Soon, he thinks. But whether it’s a promise to himself that he’ll re-join the war effort or a silent promise to Shepard that he’ll be back with her, he’s not quite sure. For now, though both his body and his heart ache, he needs to focus on what’s important—stopping the Reapers.

Kaidan’s back in his hospital room, reading through the files Udina sent when there’s a knock on his door. The door opens, and there’s Shepard, standing there in the doorway, a slightly nervous smile on her face as she shifts from foot to foot.

“Sorry to just drop in unannounced…” she says. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Kaidan smiles and puts down the datapad he’s been reading. “Not at all. It’s always nice to see you. What brings you by the Citadel? Taking a break from saving the galaxy?”

She laughs slightly and sits down in the chair next to him, but she’s perched on the edge of her seat, as if she might flee any second. “Well, you know how it is. There’s always something else to do. But I was visiting an old friend who’s also staying here, and I thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing.”

“Slowly getting better. Still a bit sore, and doc is keeping an eye on my biotics, but I’ll be back on my feet in no time,” he says, then pauses. “I hope your friend who’s staying here is doing alright.”

It feels awkward, tacked on at the end, but he doesn’t know what to say. He can tell by the drawn look on her face that it’s someone important, and it just drives home the point that he’s missed significant parts of her life, that there are people she’s loved and lost who he doesn’t even know about, and it kills him.

“He’s… well, he’s dying,” Shepard admits, chewing anxiously on her lower lip.

“Shit,” Kaidan murmurs. “I’m sorry, Lily.”

“It’s okay,” she says, shaking her head. “From the moment I met him, I knew he was dying. He’s a drell, and in the end stages of Kepral’s Syndrome. He’s at peace with it, so I guess I should be, too, but…”

“But you’re not?” Kaidan says and Shepard’s lips twist into a small, sad smile.

“I’m not,” she admits. “He was with me when we took down the Collectors, and he was an invaluable part of the team, but more than that, he was a friend. And a mentor. He taught me how to meditate and make peace with inner conflict, which helped me hone my biotics… among other things. But he’s the reason why I was able to unlock powers and skills I never could do before.”

“So that’s why you could flare your biotics like that,” Kaidan muses. The memory is burned into his brain—Shepard, on the battlefield, hurling out a blast of biotics that instantly wipes out a small group of Cerberus soldiers. Even more than that, the feeling of standing next to her—the way waves of pure, raw biotic energy rolled off her, the way even now he can feel the faint hum of her biotics.

“Impressive,” he says, and Shepard’s cheeks flush slightly pink.

“Says the guy who can reave,” she says, nudging him with her shoulder and he laughs.

“Anyways,” she says, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I also wanted to give you my congratulations for becoming a Spectre in person.”

“Thank you,” Kaidan says. “It still feels a bit strange. Spectre. I mean hell, I remember how hard you had to fight to get the Council to make you a Spectre, and then they just… drop it on me. No questions asked, no hoops to jump through. And I don’t like that people see it as me replacing you.”

“Yes, I saw your response to that reporter,” Shepard says dryly and now it’s Kaidan’s turn to blush.

“Ah, you saw that? I tried to keep my cool, but… Shepard, you’ve saved the galaxy twice.” He shakes his head. “How can they talk about you like that?”

Shepard shrugs slightly. “I saved the galaxy, yes, but you of all people should know it’s not as simple as that. There are consequences, there’s people hurt along the way, and people start to tunnel in on the mistakes. That’s the thing about making the hard choices, Kaidan—it’s not pretty, and people often don’t understand. The line between ‘hero’ and ‘monster’ is a fine one, and it’s one I’ll gladly walk if it means keeping the galaxy safe. But the higher you rise, the longer the inevitable fall is.”

Kaidan looks down, unable to look her in the eyes. You of all people should know that. She has a point, even if it’s not one he wants to face—he’s been guilty of tunneling himself. It’s easy to excuse it as him trying to protect himself, as him trying to ensure that Shepard was still Shepard, that she was still Lily. But the truth was, she proved to him, on multiple occasions, that she hadn’t changed. And he still chose to doubt, he still chose to push her away and hurt her.

And now there’s a chasm between them that he no longer knows how to bridge. Every time he opens his mouth, he trips over his useless tongue, unsure what words would suffice, what words would address each of their pain. What words would heal them.

“Anyways,” Shepard says after a moment of silence, as Kaidan sits there, unable to articulate all the things he wants to say to her. “How’s it feel, being a fancy Spectre?”

Kaidan laughs slightly, trying to shake off the lingering troubled thoughts. “It’s… nice. Before all this, while you were… you know. Anyways. Anderson asked me to take over a spec ops program. Biotics division. We were recruiting the most talented human biotics from across the galaxy for covert, high risk missions. And it felt good to make a difference, you know? To be a positive force in human biotic representation. So many people still view us as freaks. And running that program was one thing. But to be a Spectre, to be held to the highest standard of humanity and to be a biotic? Maybe it will change some minds.”

He pauses, suddenly self-conscious—here is, yapping on about prejudice against biotics and the importance of representation, to Shepard, arguably one of the most skilled human biotics alive.

“Of course, I’m sure you felt similar,” he adds on.

“A little,” Shepard says, looking down at her hands. “I know you’ve talked about your struggles at BAaT, and the stigma you’ve faced being a biotic. But growing up in the slums on Earth… it was a bit different for me. There’s still prejudice, absolutely. Sometimes more, as there’s no rules or regulations in the slums, so people can be as cruel as they want without consequence. And some people in the Reds treated me like I was a freak, but… power is value in the slums. People might treat you like a freak, but when it becomes clear that you can rough up an opposing gang without any weapon other than yourself, they back down a bit.”

It’s the most details she’s ever given Kaidan about her childhood and he sits there for a moment, absorbing it all. He’s always known that she grew up in the slums of New York City, and that she had a rough childhood. Hell, he even knew that she was involved with the 10^th Street Reds—he was with her when that old “friend” of hers tried to blackmail her into a prison break.

Her hands and voice are shaking, and it’s so unlike her—he hasn’t been working with her for long, but she’s always so stoic, so in control. It’s the first time he’s seen the cracks in her armor. But still, she stands tall, refusing to bend to the demands, despite the potential consequences. Always willing to sacrifice herself over others.

Later, much later, when they’re alone together, she cries in his arms and tells him that she’s done bad things, things she’s ashamed of. That she’s afraid of who she used to be. But he just holds her tighter and tells her that he loves the deep, dark parts of her soul, and that nothing will change that.

He shakes himself out of the memory. Aside from that one night, so long ago, she’s rarely talked about her childhood or her history with the Reds. Whenever the topic has come up, she’s avoided it, and he’s never wanted to pressure her.

“You’ve never talked much about your childhood,” he comments. “I… I guess I didn’t think about how it might be different in the slums.”

She shrugs slightly. “It’s not something I like to dwell on. It’s in the past now. But while our experiences were a little different, I know what you mean, about being a positive example of human biotics. When I was made Spectre… hell, even before that. From the moment I joined the Alliance, I’ve known what I could represent, and what I’ve had to overcome. A girl from the slums with a criminal record and biotic power? I could either prove that your past doesn’t define you, and that human biotics are just like anyone else, or I’d slip up and prove all their preconceived prejudices correct.”

“It’s a lot of pressure, isn’t it?” Kaidan says.

“It never stops,” she says, her lips twisting into a rueful smile. “Save the galaxy a few times and even then, some people will look at you funny and find something, anything, to tear you down with. But if anyone’s up to the job, it’s you, Major.”

Major. It’s not said with vitriol this time, not like back on Mars, when she was clearly—and understandably—upset with what he’d hid from her. But even though it’s friendly, he finds he misses just being Kaidan.

But you’re the one who forced the formalities in the first place, a voice in the back of his head tells him. When was the last time you thought of her as Lily and not Commander Shepard?

He doesn’t much like that voice in the back of his head.

“Thank you, Shepard,” he says instead. “For everything. I know I wouldn’t even be considered for the Spectres if it weren’t for you. You already did the hard work. All those things they commended me for—stopping Saren, saving Horizon. That was you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Shepard says. “Maybe you wouldn’t have been made a Spectre if I hadn’t been made one three years ago. But I wouldn’t have lasted long if I didn’t have a good team behind me. And that includes you, Kaidan.”

“Sure you could have,” he says. “You’re Commander Shepard, Hero of the Blitz. I don’t think there’s anything you couldn’t do if you put your mind to it.”

Her cheeks turn slightly pink and she looks down to hide it. “I did what anyone would have done in that situation. That hardly makes me a hero.”

“I disagree,” Kaidan says softly.

Shepard looks up and meets his eyes, just for a moment. In that moment, he wants nothing more than to reach out to her, to fall on his knees and beg, to pull her into his arms, to do whatever it takes to get her back. Because those blue eyes are haunted, filled with ghosts that he doesn’t know about, tormented by parts of her life he no longer has access to, and it kills him.

But then she looks down again and clears her throat and the moment is broken. There’s still that chasm between them that he doesn’t know how to breach, she’s still too far away.

“Anyways,” she says, straightening up. “I’m glad you’re doing better. I should get back to the Normandy, there’s always something that needs my attention. But get back on your feet soon, Major. We sure could use you.”

“Stay safe out there, Shepard,” he says, wishing he could say more, wanting to say more, but there’s that damn space between them again.

“I always try,” she says with a soft smile, and then she’s gone.

“Take care… Lily,” he whispers to the empty room. He picks up the datapad he’d been reading with the information that Udina sent him and tries to focus. There will be a time when he can address things with Lily. There will be a time when he can figure out how to bridge that gap, how to heal the pain and move on, move forward. But for right now, he has a job to do.

Chapter Text

“I’ll see you all when you get back, Commander. I promise. Go get him.”

Ashley’s voice calls to her through the haze of the forest, and Shepard recalls the impossible choice she’d had to make and the guilt of knowing it wasn’t much of a choice. The guilt of knowing that this was why you didn’t get involved with subordinates, because she would never be able to choose to let Kaidan go.

Even in the forest of her dreams, she can still see the mushroom cloud of the explosion, the grief and guilt weighing heavy on her heart as she knows that Chief Williams—that Ashley, her friend—was gone and it was her fault.

“I’ll see you all when you get back.” Except she never did see them again. Her voice whispers to Shepard, through the trees, but no matter how much Shepard runs, she can’t catch up, can’t apologize, can’t beg her for forgiveness.

“Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong.” Mordin’s voice cuts through and Shepard stops, eyes darting around the gray and brown landscape, wanting to find him, but his voice is as shapeless as the wind. Not Mordin, she thinks. Not after all he had done, not after all he had left to do.

“Would have liked to run tests on the seashells.”

Maybe she has died, and this is her purgatory—all the deaths, all the guilt tormenting her until the end of time. She thinks she sees Mordin in the void and she reaches out, wanting to apologize, wanting to talk to him, wanting anything but the reality. But her legs are too slow and everything around her is too fast and he is gone, returned to the void.

The sound of crying breaks through her thoughts and she is suddenly acutely aware that it has been there the whole time—how did she not hear it until now when it is so deafening? She follows it to its source, pushing past the amorphous, faceless people crowded around in a circle. In the middle of the circle is the boy from Earth, the one she couldn’t save, the one who reminded her of herself. She reaches out—to comfort him, to take him far from there, she’s not sure, she just knows she has to reach him.

She couldn’t save Ashley, she couldn’t save Mordin, she couldn’t even save this boy. But maybe she can still save everyone else like him.

He stops his crying and looks up at her, his expression blank. “You can’t save us,” he says, as if he’s read her mind. Before her eyes, his appearance shifts and blurs until Shepard is staring at herself as a child—a small, underfed blonde girl with big blue eyes and an angry expression.

“Can you even save yourself?” the girl asks, and as Shepard reaches out to touch her, she erupts into flames, the fire slowly consuming her as she stares her adult self dead in the eyes.

Shepard awakes less with a gasp than a whimper, trying to shake off the remnants of her dream as the memory of the past day’s events start to sink in. Mordin is dead. Mordin is dead and it still doesn’t feel real, and her heart lies heavy in her chest. Each painful thump reminds her that she is still here, when so many others are not. That with each heartbeat, more people are killed, and she is the only one who can stop it all.

“You can’t save us… can you even save yourself?”

The words from her dream send a shiver down Shepard’s spine and she hauls herself out of bed, knowing she won’t get any more sleep. Why did Mordin have to die?

She’d known there would be casualties in this war, it was naïve to expect to escape unscathed—the fact that she had pulled her team through the mission to the Collector base without losing anyone was nigh a miracle, and the mission parameters were so much harder now. But somehow, despite that knowledge, Mordin’s death had blindsided her.

She should have been able to save him. She was supposed to save everyone, the fate of the galaxy was resting on her shoulders and her shoulders alone. Can you even save yourself? She shudders and tries to push the dream out of her mind. She can do this. She has to do this.

But Mordin’s unexpected death, right at the end, has her more shaken up than she should be. He’d chosen his fate; he’d embraced it and accepted it and met his fate with peace—so why can’t she? The memory of his soft singing to himself over comms still brings tears to her eyes and she buries her head in her hands, wishing her mind would stop. Wishing she could move on, be the soldier she needs to be.

Perhaps that is the real problem—she is stuck in the past. Mordin was at peace with his death. So was Ashley, back on Virmire, so is Thane as he sits in Huerta Memorial, peaceful and content.

She thinks of Mordin, telling her it had to be him; she thinks of Ashley, telling her to save Kaidan, that she’d be okay, that it was the right decision. And she thinks of Thane and the conversation they had in the hospital lobby, a peaceful smile on his face as he told her that he was ready. He knew his time was fast approaching, and he faced it without fear.

She couldn’t save any of them, so how is she supposed to save the rest? And why does it have to be her? She’s only ever been as good as her crew, and the more she loses, the more it all falls apart. The cracks in her armor are starting to spread and she isn’t sure how much longer she can keep it together. How much longer she can keep shoving the emotions down deep inside, mentally categorizing them to be dealt with “later.” How long until later becomes now?

Mordin had been not just a valued member of her team, but her friend. Despite his slightly aloof mannerisms, they’d ended up bonding over military stories—him in the STG and her in the Alliance—and having more than one intense, philosophical conversation that had been a welcome respite from all the violence and stress of fighting the Collectors. They’d argued over the Genophage, she’d berated Mordin for his role in it, and he’d held firm in his belief that it was the best—the only—course of action. Until he didn’t. Until he admitted to Shepard, in a surprisingly emotional outburst, that he’d made a mistake and he was going to fix it.

And now he is gone. He is gone, Thane is going, and Shepard wonders how many more friends and allies she’ll need to bury before the end. She wonders how much more she can take—grief is not an unfamiliar bedfellow, but with each loss, the pain of being left behind stings just a bit more.

And there’s been a lot of loss lately. Unfathomable amounts when she thinks of all the unnamed people on Earth, on Palaven, on every god-forsaken world the damned Reapers have hit. And it won’t end, not unless she can pull off a miracle. And sure, some people would say that the feats she’s pulled off in the past—stopping the Blitz, stopping Saren and his geth army, stopping Sovereign, stopping the Collectors—were miracles of their own. Some people have said that. But they’re nothing compared to the task that lies ahead, and not for the first time, she wonders if what is required of her is even possible.

And if it is, at what cost? How many must be lost to stop the Reapers from destroying everything? At what point is the price too high? Perhaps when it comes to the destruction of all known civilization, no price is too high, but the weight of the pressure put upon her feels suffocating.

I’m just a girl from the slums of New York. A girl from the slums with too much raw biotic power and a reckless streak a mile wide, who only stopped the Blitz because she had something to prove. But they hung medals on my neck, called me a hero, and now they expect me to save the entire galaxy.

She stares at herself in the mirror of her bathroom—mouth twisted into a grimace, deep bags under her eyes, blonde hair disheveled. She still reeks of sweat, smoke and blood from the battlefield, but there’s no time for rest—not that she could anyways, given how poorly she’s been sleeping lately.

When it’s not her insomnia keeping her up, the nightmares guarantee her sleep is restless and unfulfilling. She’s never been unfamiliar with night terrors—as a child growing up in the slums of New York, they were a common companion, and they had only increased with the things she had seen during her military career. But they’d been manageable. Survivable. She’s not so sure she can say that any more.

She remembers a time when she’d wake up in a cold sweat and there’d be a strong pair of arms there to hold her and comfort her, a gravelly voice reassuring her that she’d be okay, and oh how she misses that— but no. She stops that train of thought. Thinking of Kaidan just brings her down a path of pain.

Sighing, she splashes some cold water on her face in a vain attempt to feel more awake, more alive, right as someone knocks on her door.

“Come in,” she calls out. “It’s not locked.”

She exits the bathroom and finds Liara there, standing just inside the room, arms crossed, a frown on her face. “You look like hell, Shepard.”

“Thanks, Li,” Shepard mutters.

“I just meant—”

Shepard brushes off her concern. “I feel like hell, so looking like it is only fitting. What’s up?”

Instead of answering, Liara’s frown just deepens. “Are you okay, Lily? Sorry, that’s a stupid question. Of course you aren’t, none of us are. But… is there anything I can do?”

Shepard just sighs. She knows it’s serious when Liara calls her by her first name. Despite their close friendship, she has always just been Shepard— Liara only broke out the first name when she was concerned or when she needed something. Kaidan had been the only one who had regularly called her Lily; to everyone else she was just Commander or Shepard. And now not even Kaidan will call her Lily.

If no one calls me Lily, is it even my name?  she thinks. Or is Lilliana Grace Shepard, the person, slowly being replaced by the legendary Commander Shepard?

“I appreciate it,” she says, forcing a hint of a smile onto her face. “But I’m fine. Well, you know. Not fine, but… as fine as any of us are right now.”

“Are you sure?” Liara asks, hesitating. “I know you have a lot on your plate. And I know that’s an understatement. But I’m here if you want to talk about it. We all are.”

Talking about it won’t bring back Ashley or Mordin or the millions of souls already lost to this war. Talking about it won’t stop Thane from going or stop millions more from dying before this is all over. If this is ever over.

“Just… thinking about the people we’ve lost,” Shepard says finally, if only to placate Liara. “Ashley gave her life to stop Saren back on Virmire. Back when we thought the issue was just a rogue Spectre. What would she think of things now? A full force Reaper invasion, the galaxy in shambles… maybe it’s better she died a hero before she could see any of this. Is that awful of me to think?”

Liara’s expression softens. “I don’t think that’s a terrible thing to think, no. I think if Chief Williams were still here, she’d be kicking serious Reaper ass, but it’s never terrible to be glad a friend isn’t suffering.”

“I wish we were kicking Reaper ass,” Shepard mutters. “It feels like the opposite is happening.”

She straightens up. Takes a deep breath to clear her mind. Calls upon all her willpower to shed the grief and fears of Lily and become the fearless Commander Shepard once more.

“Anyways, was there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

Liara nods. “Councilor Valern wants to speak with you, he’s on vid comm. He said had some concerns about Udina, but he would only speak to you directly.”

At that, Shepard raises an eyebrow. “Udina? And here I was assuming he wanted to chew me out for curing the Genophage.”

“Well, likely that, too.” Liara’s lips twitch into a half smile, but the both of them know it’s not truly genuine. Curing the Genophage isn’t anything Shepard regrets, not at all, but alienating the Dalatrass—and all official salarian representation—will have consequences. Shepard just hopes they can bear them.

“I’ll go see what it’s about,” she says. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Commander, thank you for making time,” Councilor Valern says when Shepard opens up the vid comm. “Now that you’re done rewriting history. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

Cutting right to the chase, I see, Shepard thinks. She pauses a moment before answering, biting her tongue to keep from saying something stupid.

“We need a unified galaxy if we want to win this war,” she says carefully. “Specifically, we need the strength of the krogan. If you want to talk about history, just look at the rachni wars—we would not have survived that had it not been for the krogan and we will not defeat the Reapers if we don’t have the krogan on our side.”

Not to mention it’s the right thing to do, she thinks, but she doesn’t say that. It’s easier to try and convince Valern of the logic behind it, rather than the morality entangled in the decision.

“So you say,” Valern says. “Let’s just hope you’re right, or we’ll all pay the price. But that’s not why I wanted to speak to you. I have concerns about Councilor Udina. My agents have discovered that he’s using his authority as a member of the Citadel Council to move vast sums of money. I don’t know for what, but this is a clear abuse of power.”

Shepard’s eyes narrow and she crosses her arms. “And why do you have agents investigating him in the first place?”

“Do not be so suspicious, Commander,” Valern says. “I have agents looking into the affairs of everyone, precisely so if anyone is corrupt, it will not go unnoticed. And may I remind you that as a Spectre, you serve the Council—all of us, not just humanity’s representative. Will you help investigate or are you too loyal to Councilor Udina?”

“You’re making assumptions, Councilor,” Shepard snaps, not quite able to keep the impatience out of her voice. “I was concerned as to why you were investigating another Citadel Council member, as I’m sure you can understand. You have made it quite clear from the start that you don’t think humanity is ready for the responsibility that comes with a seat on the Council. But if Udina is dirty, I’ll do whatever it takes to find out and take him down.”

“Good. Come meet me on the Citadel,” Valern says. “We can discuss my findings there, in private. Valern out.”

He terminates the connection and Shepard massages her temples, trying to ease the headache that’s been forming. She’s never liked Udina, and it’s always been clear that the feeling is mutual. She’s not the perfect, moldable Spectre he wanted. He’s opportunistic and his humanity first attitude borders on xenophobic, but dirty? Assuming Valern is telling the truth, that comes as quite the surprise.

“Well, one way to find out,” she mutters. If Udina is dirty, it’s best to get to the bottom of it as quickly as possible, so she heads back to the CIC, making her way to the galaxy map.

“Everything alright, Commander?” Traynor asks.

“I just spoke with Councilor Valern,” she says. “There’s Council business I need to attend to, the quicker the better. Plot a course to the Citadel.”

“Right away, ma’am,” Traynor says, punching in the directions so Joker can start his pre-flight checks.

Shepard raises an eyebrow. “You know you can just call me Commander, right? Or even just Shepard?”

“Right, of course ma’am—” Traynor cuts herself off. “Sorry. It’s just… you’re Commander Shepard. It’s hard not to feel intimidated by all your accomplishments. And all your crew, too, you’re… you’re legends.”

Shepard just laughs, because lighthearted humor is easier than dealing with the feelings that comment brings up. Legends. Traynor means it as a compliment, of course, and any normal person would take it as one.

But Shepard can’t help but think that the more the galaxy builds her up, the more they declare her a legend, a hero, the greater she has to fall. Sometimes it feels like she can’t even be human anymore, she’s been elevated too far beyond that.

And then, that nagging fear that she can never quite escape. Am I even human anymore? Humans aren’t resurrected from the dead. Humans aren’t stuffed full of cybernetic implants just to keep them clinging on to the last shreds of life.

Shaking it off, she claps Traynor on the shoulder. “Well, you’re part of the crew now, Traynor, so get used to being a legend.”

It doesn’t take long to get to the Citadel, but the moment they enter the mass relay, Shepard knows something is wrong. She can’t put her finger on it, and if anyone asked, she wouldn’t have been able to articulate it, but she just knows. Call it a gut feeling that comes with years of experience.

“Alliance flight control, this is the SSV Normandy,” Joker says as Shepard walks up behind him. “Are we cleared to descend?”

Silence. Shepard narrows her eyes and Joker taps a few buttons on the console, then shakes his head.

“This is weird, and I don’t like it, Commander,” he says. “There’s complete radio silence.”

“Try hailing them again,” Shepard says.

“Alliance flight control, I repeat, this is the SSV Normandy,” Joker says. “We are headed to Zakera Ward, docking bay D24. Are we cleared to descend?”

Still nothing.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Joker says.

“You and me both,” Shepard mutters, the gears turning in her mind. What could be going on? The Citadel was known for its impeccable security standards. Due to serving so many vast alien races and being the seat of the Council, they tightly controlled all entries and exits. Even when there were system malfunctions, they had numerous backups in place to ensure something like this never happened.

“I’m checking the emergency channels,” Joker says. “Hey, this is Joker, anyone there? Wait… Thane?”

Shepard looks at Joker to make sure she heard him correctly. “Thane?”

“Hang on, I’m patching you through,” Joker says, and a moment later Shepard hears Thane’s gravelly voice.

“Shepard, can you hear me? The Citadel is under attack. There are Cerberus troops everywhere and they’re in control of the docks. They’ve taken over flight control as well.”

“Fuck,” Shepard mutters, massaging her temples as she tries to think up a new plan on the spot. First things first, she has to make sure Thane is okay. “Are you safe? Where are you?”

“I had to evacuate the hospital,” he says. “I evaded their commandos and am hiding in a Presidium storefront. I’m safe for now, but their commandos are everywhere. I don’t know how much longer I can evade them.”

Shepard pauses and licks her lips, afraid to ask what she has to. Afraid of what the answer might be. “Do you know if Kaidan made it out?”

“I’m not sure,” Thane says, and the uncertainty makes Shepard’s heart squeeze painfully. “We were leaving the hospital together, but then got separated. He said he had to go protect the Council. Listen, Shepard, I can’t talk for long. I need to get to C-Sec headquarters.”

“C-Sec?” Shepard asks. “Are they still standing?”

“No,” Thane says. “And as long as Cerberus holds C-Sec headquarters, they hold the station. I can’t sit back and hide, not when I could be helping.”

“Okay.” Shepard takes a deep breath. Inhales as Lily, a woman concerned about the safety of her friends, scared about the safety of everyone. Exhales as Commander Shepard, a soldier unafraid of anything or anyone, ready to get shit done. “Thane, stay safe. Joker, get us away from the docks and as close to C-Sec headquarters as you can, we’ll drop the shuttle out. There’s no time to waste.”

“Aye aye, Commander,” Joker says, but Shepard has already turned and left.

She heads towards the armory, thinking over her plan of attack as she walks. She needs a small, manageable team. If Cerberus has taken control of the station, then they’re going to be drastically outnumbered, which means they need to move fast and use stealth when possible.

But they also need good firepower for when they go toe-to-toe with Cerberus troops—because there’s going to be no shortage of fighting. And she still needs to apprise her entire team of the situation—whether or not they’re coming with her, they need to know.

“Fuck,” she mutters to herself. Fuck Cerberus. Fuck the Illusive Man. Fuck her for ever having worked with them. She should have taken their fancy ship—her fancy ship, really—and run long before she blew up the Collector base and finally told the Illusive Man to take his bullshit and shove it up his ass.

But there’s no time for regret, not now, so she opens up a ship wide channel. “Cerberus troops have taken control of the Citadel. Vega, Garrus, haul ass and meet me down in the armory, we’re dropping in hot. Cortez, get the shuttle prepped. Everyone else, get to your stations onboard the ship. Do what you can to help from here, but your priority is making sure the Normandy stays safe. Shepard out.”

The elevator down to the armory feels like it takes a million years, and by the time she gets there, James is already suited up and Cortez has the shuttle engine running.

“Is Cerberus really attacking the Citadel?” James asks, but he doesn’t wait for an answer before he shakes his head. “Man, this is loco.”

“I don’t know what the situation is like on the ground,” Shepard says, strapping on her N7 chest plate. “But it doesn’t sound good, so be ready for a hell of a fight.”

“Man, I am ready to kick some Cerberus ass,” James says, clicking a thermal clip into place on his gun at the same time. 

“Did Cerberus really take the Citadel?” Garrus steps off the elevator, his mandibles twitching—whether in concern or anger, Shepard isn’t quite sure. Perhaps both. Probably both, if he’s anything like her, and Garrus is a close enough friend that she knows they share more than their mutual love of fine liquor and blowing shit up.

“Sounds like it,” Shepard says, checking the sights on her gun. It hits her suddenly that of course Garrus used to be C-Sec, and the Citadel was his home for many years. “Garrus, if this is too personal—”

He shuts her down with a wave of his hand. “Oh, this is personal, Shepard. But I’d be angry if you didn’t bring me. I need to be there, to look those Cerberus bastards in the eye as we take them down, one by one.”

Shepard nods once. “I understand. But I need you to stay level-headed, Vakarian. I need you at your best.”

Like you’re not nearly losing your goddamn mind with worry over Kaidan. Like you’re at your best? You haven’t been at your best in months, maybe even longer.

Irrelevant, she tells the voice in the back of her mind that’s always so quick to criticize. I can do this. I have to do this.

Still, it’s easier to convince herself of that when she isn’t running on caffeine and adrenaline alone, when the bags under her eyes aren’t desperately covered up by concealer in a vain effort to not let on to her crew the toll this is all taking on her. She is Commander Shepard, Hero of the Blitz, Savior of the Citadel. She has defeated Sovereign, she has guided her crew unscathed through the Omega 4 Relay, despite how everyone said it would be a suicide mission.

She is Commander Shepard, and she can do this.

“Cortez, is the shuttle ready?”

“Ready and waiting for your command, ma’am,” Cortez affirms.

“Good. Let’s do this and make these Cerberus bastards regret ever coming here.”

Chapter Text

Kaidan is in the hospital, looking out the window of his room when the alarms first go off. The shrill sirens pierce the air, startling him, even though the scenery outside his window is calm.

“Warning. Firefights have broken out in Zakera Ward. Civil unrest detected in Tayseri Ward. For the safety of all citizens, please remain where you are until C-Sec has the situation under control. Warning. Firefights have broken out…”

The C-Sec VI’s calm voice seems at odds with the sirens and he pokes his head out into the hallway, trying to catch the attention of someone, anyone, to figure out what’s happening. Something about it seems like more than just a small scale firefight; something seems wrong, in a deep, unsettling kind of way.

“What’s going on?” he asks, catching the attention of one of the doctors out in the hall, but the doctor just shakes her head.

“I don’t know. But the alarms wouldn’t go off if it was something small…”

Kaidan knows her words to be true. Small firefights break out in the wards all the time—disputes between citizens, gang-related activity, you name it. But for a firefight to trigger the C-Sec VI’s Citadel-wide alarm system? It had to be big.

Before Kaidan can say anything else, there’s a burst of gunfire from somewhere nearby—too nearby. Whatever is happening, it’s spreading fast.

“Stay down!” he tells the doctor, his hands automatically going to his side to draw his gun before he remembers he’s in his civvies, unarmed. Defenseless. But he’s still got his years of training, so he drops down to a crouch and carefully makes his way over to the nearest window.

The view of the Presidium is peaceful, idyllic, until it isn’t. A burst of gunfire cuts across the landscape as a handful of C-Sec officers chase after a group of armed soldiers. They’re too far away for Kaidan to make out any details, but they’re not Reapers, and there’s only one group of humans that he can think of that would do something like this.

Cerberus.

“Damn it!” he clenches his hand into a fist, the frustration and anger boiling up inside him without release. What did Cerberus want? What did they gain by fracturing the galaxy, by dividing the effort against the Reapers?

He thinks back to Mars, to the Alliance scientists slaughtered, to the soldiers who died defending them—to the people he knew, some of them his friends who were killed by the terrorist group. A terrorist group that Shepard used to work for.

But he can’t think of that right now. Whatever Cerberus is doing here, he needs to figure out how bad it is and he needs to keep the Council safe. That’s his top priority as a Spectre. Once he knows the Council is safe, then he can worry about how Cerberus launched an attack on the Citadel and how widespread the damage is.

“Look out!”

The doctor’s cry is the only warning Kaidan gets before there’s a loud bang and the room explodes in a flash of light and a cloud of smoke. Coughing, he swats at the air in front of him, trying to clear it enough to see what’s going on. The ringing in his ears slowly subsides as he inches forward, replaced by the noise of the hospital machines going haywire and muffled voices that he can’t quite make out.

“Doctor?” Kaidan can just make out the prone form of the doctor he’d spoken to a moment before, sprawled motionless on the floor. He crouches down next to her, feeling for a pulse, checking for signs of breathing. There. A pulse.

“We need to leave while we still can.”

The voice surprised Kaidan and he looks up, squinting through the smoke. A man Kaidan has seen at the hospital before, a drell, approaches him, gun drawn—how the man had a gun in the hospital, Kaidan isn’t sure, but he’s sure as hell not with Cerberus, and that means at least for now, they’re on the same team.

“You are Major Alenko, correct?”

Kaidan’s about to ask how he knows, when he remembers Lily visiting him in the hospital, telling him about her friend, a drell, who was dying from Kepral’s Syndrome. It can’t be a coincidence.

“I am a friend of Commander Shepard,” he says when Kaidan doesn’t answer. “Thane Krios.”

“Yeah.” Kaidan straightens up. “Lil—Shepard’s mentioned you. Do you know what’s going on?”

Before Thane can answer, there’s a scream from the lobby.

“Please!” a woman is sobbing. “This is a hospital! We have sick and dying people here. Whatever you want, just leave us alone.”

“Cerberus,” Thane says by way of explanation. “Sounds like they’ve taken the lobby. We don’t have much time. Can you fight? Shepard mentioned you were injured.”

“I’m fine,” Kaidan says. Truth be told, he’s a little nervous—he’s unarmed, and while he’s never had to worry about that before, due to being a biotic, he hasn’t officially been cleared to use his biotics just yet. But it’s sink or swim time, and he’s about to find out which it will be.

“Got a plan to get out of here?” Kaidan asks.

“Run,” Thane suggests. “The smoke grenades Cerberus is using will provide us with some cover.”

“Meet you on the other side,” Kaidan says. Thane nods and they both take off running, darting through the smoke, skirting around the Cerberus troops.

“You there! Stop!”

A soldier spots Kaidan through the smoke, and up close, Kaidan can see the telltale white, orange and black armor. He knew it was Cerberus—who else could it be?—but the proof of it just turns his stomach. As the soldier aims his gun, Kaidan unleashes a throw, tossing him back against the far wall.

Using his biotics makes the pain in his head flare up and he grimaces, shoving it down. Better the pain of a migraine than the pain of a bullet.

The commotion of his biotics attracts the attention of two other Cerberus commandos and he swears under his breath. He isn’t sure how much he can do with his biotics right now—he needs to find a gun, and fast.

“Hey! Get the fuck out of my hospital!” The voice is accompanied by something flying through the air, striking one of the Cerberus commandos in the head. The soldier stumbles and turns, shooting at the unknown person, Kaidan’s savior. An innocent civilian, working in a hospital, gunned down for daring to stand up to Cerberus. Gunned down to draw the heat away from Kaidan.

The rage boils in his blood and he launches himself at the other commando, trying to wrestle his gun away.

“You’ll pay for that,” he grunts, struggling over the weapon. “These are innocent people! What have they done to you?”

A shot rings out and the Cerberus soldier slumps against Kaidan, dead and bleeding from the head. Through the gradually clearing smoke, Kaidan can see Thane, his weapon still aimed at the Cerberus commando, as if to make sure he’s truly dead.

Nodding his thanks, Kaidan grabs the dead man’s weapon and makes a run for the doors of the hospital, Thane right behind him. Outside, the coast is clear, but Kaidan knows it won’t last for long. More Cerberus troops will come. More Cerberus troops are already here, on the Citadel, spreading death and destruction.

He wonders how many innocent civilians will be killed before C-Sec can get a hold of the situation. If C-Sec can get a hold of the situation.

“I need to protect the Council,” he says to Thane. “Whatever Cerberus is doing here, I’m sure they’ll be a target.”

Thane nods. “I’m going to do recon work, see what I can find out. Stay safe out there, Major.”

“You too,” Kaidan says. There’s so many things he wants to ask Thane—what it was like working with Shepard to stop the Collectors, how she’s been lately because there’s still a wall between them and he wants to know if she’s okay. He wants to thank him for being there for her when he couldn’t, when he wouldn’t. But now isn’t the time for any of that, so they part ways, Kaidan heading towards the Council chambers, Thane headed in the opposite direction.

By the time Shepard, Garrus and James have fought their way through waves of Cerberus soldiers, gotten an update from Bailey and found their way to the C-Sec Executor’s office, she is pissed. Pissed is an understatement. She is pure rage and fury, she is hell waiting to be unleashed.

“Spread out, let’s see if we can find anything,” she says once they’ve established that the Executor’s office is clear of enemy combatants.

“Cerberus has already been here,” Garrus calls over, his voice grim. “The Executor’s dead.”

Shepard walks over to where Garrus is crouched by the turian’s body, her mouth set in a grimace. If Cerberus had killed the C-Sec Executor, that meant they had full control of C-Sec. How much more damage would be done before this was over?

“Damnit,” she swears softly, bending down to the turian, automatically checking for vital signs, even though it’s clear he’s long gone.

“Bailey?” she straightens up, calling up Bailey on comms. “They got the Executor. We wiped out the Cerberus presence here, but I’m sure more will be coming shortly. What’s—” she breaks off, a movement in the room adjacent to them catching her eye, cutting her off.

“Commander?” Bailey asks over comms.

“I’ll call you back,” she says, eyes focused on the chair at the table, seemingly shifting on its own, the faintest shimmer in the air the only hint that someone was there, cloaked. She catches the attention of James and Garrus and jerks her head in the direction of the cloaked individual.

She signals to them to follow her lead, but doesn’t make it more than a few steps before the cloak shimmers and drops, revealing Councilor Valern.

“Councilor?” Shepard frowns, her brows knitting together. What was he doing there? She takes another step towards the window that separates the two rooms when an unfamiliar man drops down, clad all in black, something strange glowing in his outstretched palm as he approaches the Councilor.

“Shit,” Shepard mutters. She hurls a biotic blast at the window, shattering it, jumping through a moment later. Her gun is drawn even before she lands, coming up behind the salarian councilor as she approaches the man.

“Don’t even think about it,” she says as she approaches, her gun steady even as her body thrums with the power of her biotics. “Try anything, and I will shoot.”

The man looks up, a smirk on his face. “I wondered when I might cross paths with you, Commander Shepard.”

“Can’t really say the same about you,” Shepard says, raising an eyebrow as she wonders if the use of her name is supposed to take her by surprise or intimidate her. If so, it fails miserably—everyone in the galaxy knows who she is by now, for better or worse. She’s saved the galaxy twice now, she’s faced down Reapers and lived to tell the tale—some wannabe assassin trying to get under her skin by revealing he knows who she is isn’t going to shake her confidence very much.

 “Seeing as I have no idea who you are,” she adds. “But how about you drop your weapon, and we can chat?”

“Do you really think so little of me, Shepard?” the man says. “That I wouldn’t take this opportunity for you to show me what you’re made of?”

“Look, pal, cut the crap,” Shepard says as James and Garrus come up behind her, their weapons drawn. “I don’t know who you are, and frankly, I don’t care. But you’re outnumbered, so drop your weapon now before this gets ugly.”

“No, now it gets fun.”

The glee in his voice sends a chill down Shepard’s spine and as the weapon in his palm glows brighter, charging up, she fires her gun. The time for niceties is over. The assassin dodges the bullets easily, spinning out of the way without so much as getting a single hair out of place.

“Get down!” Shepard yells, pushing Councilor Valern down as the assassin lets out a charge from his weapon. The Councilor stumbles and falls to the ground with a startled yelp, the bolt from the assassin’s weapon narrowly missing him and instead cutting a chunk out of a pillar behind Shepard.

“Think, Shepard,” the assassin says. “Think about what we could do without the Council. What are you protecting them for? What have they ever done for humanity?”

“This isn’t about humanity!” Shepard retorts. “The Reapers are targeting all advanced organic life. If humanity stands alone, we lose.”

“You’re wrong,” the assassin says, circling around. “The Illusive Man is strong. Humanity is strong. I’ve read your files, Shepard. I know the Council held you back, I know they failed to heed your warnings about the Reapers. Why do you still protect them?”

The last thing Shepard wants to do is admit that the assassin has a point, but he does. He knows just how to get under her skin, just how to make her doubt herself—she saved the Council when Sovereign attacked, letting countless humans sacrifice themselves to protect the Council. And how did they repay her? By ignoring her claims about Reapers, by covering it up and pretending that Sovereign was just a geth ship, that Saren and the geth were an isolated threat. They pretended she was crazy for believing in the Reapers, even when she found irrefutable proof of the Reapers’ arrival, even when she bought a little extra time with the lives of all the batarians in the Bahak system.

“You can’t provide an answer, can you?” the assassin taunts. “Because you know the Council is indefensible. Join me, Shepard, join us and we can build a stronger galaxy together.”

“This guy is loco,” James mutters.

Councilor Valern, caught in the middle, looks at Shepard, his eyes wide with fear—even after all she’s done to save him, to save the whole Council, he doesn’t trust that she won’t betray him right here, right now. Maybe he knows that they have wronged her, that they have wronged the whole galaxy by refusing to heed her warnings, by trying to turn public sentiment against her.

The disgraced Commander Shepard who blew up a whole relay because of her delusional visions of so-called Reapers. The disgraced Commander Shepard who went from war hero to war criminal. The disgraced Commander Shepard who refuses to fall in line like a good little soldier.

“I’ve seen what the Illusive Man can do,” Shepard says at last. “His version of strength isn’t anything I want to be part of. His ‘strength’ is tearing apart the galaxy. The Illusive Man is nothing more than a bully who uses deception and underhanded tactics to get what he wants.”

A flash of anger crosses the assassin’s eyes. “The Illusive Man rebuilt you, he gave you life, and this is how you repay him? By siding with the traitorous Council? Fine. So be it.”

He lets out a blast from his weapon and Shepard narrowly dodges it in time with the sudden, sinking realization that this assassin had been taking it easy up until now, that he’d been toying with them.

The blast catches Councilor Valern in the shoulder and he cries out in pain, falling to his hands and knees. “Do something, Shepard!” he hisses. “Stop him!”

Just as Shepard straightens up, readying a biotic blast, there’s a sudden movement from above them. In the blink of an eye, a lithe figure drops down from the ceiling and points a gun at the assassin’s head.

Thane.

The assassin lets out a small noise of amusement as he whirls to face the new opponent, him and Thane trading blows faster than Shepard can keep up with. While Thane keeps the assassin occupied, Shepard bends down to check on the Councilor.

“Are you okay?” she asks, checking the wound on his shoulder.

“He’s going to kill us all!” the Councilor says, but Shepard shakes her head.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stop him,” she says.

“No, not him, Udina!” Valern continues. “He’s staging a coup, he’s with Cerberus. And he’s going to lead the other Council members right to their deaths!”

Shepard curses quietly under her breath. She knew Valern had called her to the Citadel to discuss his findings on Udina, that he suspected Udina of underhanded dealings, but she never expected him to be capable of this.

“I’ll take care of it,” she promises.

“Damnit, Shepard, I can’t get a good angle,” Garrus says, drawing Shepard’s attention back to the fight between Thane and the attempted assassin. The two assassins are engaged in a fight that’s little more than an expert flurry of limbs, quick strikes blocked by equally quick blocks. It’s true that they’re too entangled, that if she or Garrus or James tries to shoot the assassin, there’s too high a risk of hitting Thane instead.

Thane knocks the assassin down with a biotic blast, but he’s back up on his feet in an instant and all she can do is watch in horror as he pulls out a long, deadly sharp sword, as he and Thane charge at each other. Her gun is limp and useless in her hands as the assassin dodges Thane’s shots, slips past his defenses and stabs Thane clean through the stomach.

“Thane!” Shepard cries out and unleashes a volley of bullets from her gun, but the assassin throws up a biotic barrier, blocking it all.

“You lose, Shepard,” the assassin says as Thane hits the ground.

“Check on Thane!” she barks to James and Garrus, sprinting after the assassin as he takes off down the stairs. She empties an entire clip, but the assassin is too fast, jumping off the ledge of the building and rising a moment later on a skycar.

“You could have joined me,” the assassin says, taunting her as he floats just out of range. “We could have changed the galaxy together. But instead, you chose death.”

Snarling, Shepard lets out a biotic flare, hurling it at the assassin. The skycar starts to take off, but not fast enough, and the edge of the blast hits, knocking the assassin down. For a moment, he looks genuinely surprised, like he wasn’t expecting Shepard to be able to touch him at all. For a moment, there’s a crack in his armor, a hint of vulnerability, and then he is gone, the skycar carrying him away.

“Thane!” Shepard rushes back towards Thane who is propped up against the wall, clutching his stomach. “How bad is it?”

“I gave him medi-gel,” Garrus says quietly to Shepard. “But he needs real medical attention and fast.”

“I have time,” Thane says. “I’ll be okay for a little longer, siha. Catch him.”

“Shepard?” Bailey’s voice comes over comms. “What’s going on over there? You hung up on me earlier. Is everything okay?”

“Thane’s been badly injured,” she says, straightening up. “He needs immediate medical attention. Councilor Valern is also injured, but it’s not serious.”

She pauses for a moment, thinking about what the Councilor said, about Udina. She needs to find and stop Udina before it’s too late.

“And one more thing,” she continues. “Do you have the location of the Council? Udina’s trying to seize power. I had a run-in with an assassin, and I have a feeling he’s headed their way.”

“Damnit,” Bailey says. “Udina, a traitor? I’ve never been a fan of politicians, but I didn’t suspect him of being dirty. Hang on, let me get the Council’s location.”

Shepard starts jogging over towards a rentable skycar, not wanting to waste a single second. The assassin has too much of a head start already.

“Got it,” Bailey says a moment later. “The Council is being sent to an evac pad on the Presidium, I’m sending the coordinates now. A medical evac shuttle is also on the way for the Councilor and your friend.”

“Thanks, Bailey,” Shepard says, climbing into the driver’s seat of the shuttle as James and Garrus climb in behind. It’s a testament to the gravity of the situation that neither comments on the fact that she’s driving—back when they were fighting the geth, her whole squad used to poke fun at her terrible driving skills.

Every time she got behind the wheel of the Mako, everyone would groan and make snarky comments. It became enough of a joke that even though James wasn’t there for it, he’d bring up stories the others had told him, anything to poke fun at the Commander.

But this time it’s different. This time, everyone is solemn as Shepard slams the gas pedal down on the skycar, everyone is quiet as the g-force presses them back against their seats. There’s a Council to save.

By the time Kaidan reaches the Council, the situation has gone from bad to worse. Cerberus is everywhere, large swaths of the Presidium are in chaos, and there are enemy combatants hot on their tail.

“Major Alenko!” Udina cries out as he spots Kaidan sprinting towards them. “Thank God you’re here.”

“Are you okay?” Kaidan asks. He looks around the group quickly—Udina, Tevos and Sparatus are all there, but Valern is nowhere in sight.

“Where’s Councilor Valern?” he asks, and the Councilors share a look.

“Major,” Udina says, stepping forward. “As a Spectre, your first priority is to the Council. Regardless of your past ties, you have taken a vow to protect and defend us.”

“Yes,” Kaidan says slowly, unsure where this is going. “What’s your point, Councilor? We need to keep moving.”

“Major…” Udina starts to say, allowing himself to be herded into an elevator, as Tevos and Sparatus follow suit. “Commander Shepard is still with Cerberus. She has been this whole time. She’s trying to kill us all.”

“What?” Kaidan asks, his head spinning. Shepard, with Cerberus? He knows he accused her of just that back on Mars, but that was before. Before his near death experience made him realize just how close he was to losing her, in more ways than one, and how he needed to take a leap of faith and trust her.

He’d be lying if he said the unanswered questions still gave him pause, but Shepard wouldn’t try and kill the Council. Would she?

“I know it might be hard for you to take in,” Udina continues, clapping a hand over Kaidan’s shoulder. “Especially given your… past relationship. But I’m afraid it’s true.”

“Commander Shepard is not who she used to be,” Sparatus says. “We’ve seen the proof with our own eyes.”

Udina pulls out a datapad and hands it over to Kaidan, who nearly fumbles it, his hands numb and shaking. He doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t want to believe it, but he has to do his job.

The scene that plays out, captured from the security cameras in the C-Sec Executor’s office, leaves little room for doubt.

Shepard bursts into the Executor’s office, her gun drawn and pointed at Councilor Valern. The Councilor puts his hands up, clearly defenseless, and Kaidan is glad he can’t hear the audio, glad he can’t hear the voice of the woman he loves as she attacks a Citadel Councilor. Shepard shoots. Valern falls. Shepard crouches down beside him, perhaps to check if he’s dead, then looks up, something offscreen appearing to startle her. She takes off running, out of view of the security cameras, escaping the scene of the crime as the video turns to static.

“I…” Kaidan starts to say, then stops, bile rising in his stomach. What can he say? He still doesn’t want to believe it, but how can he deny it when the proof is right in front of him? The Shepard he knows would have sooner jumped in front of a bullet for the Council than fire at them herself, but this clearly isn’t the Shepard he thought he knew.

He thinks back to the hurt in her blue eyes when he accused her of being part of Cerberus—worse than that, of being little more than a husk—back on Mars. And he thinks back to those visits in the hospital, when the cracks in her walls started to show, when there were brief glimmers of what they used to be. Was that all a lie?

He refuses to believe that. Maybe there’s a logical explanation for what he’s seeing—but what logical explanation could there be for shooting a Citadel Councilor? He thinks back to his time aboard the Normandy, when they were chasing Saren, and how she once told the Council to go to hell after they refused to believe her yet again. But then he also remembers how she didn’t hesitate to sacrifice human lives to save them when Sovereign attacked the Citadel. It doesn’t add up, but then again, neither did Shepard working for Cerberus.

There it is, that age-old question that keeps plaguing him.

How well does he really know Shepard these days?

A hurtful conversation on Horizon, an apology letter that she never responded to. A tense situation on Mars, more arguments, more apologies. A few brief, tender, precious moments in the hospital as he recovered. Are these really enough for him to accurately judge her character? For him to say, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he knows her?

He can’t answer that, and right now, he can’t dwell on it.

“I know it’s hard to take,” Udina says. “I’m sorry, Major.”

Kaidan just nods slowly. Right now, he needs to focus on getting the Citadel to safety. Then he can figure out what to do about Shepard. “Let’s just get out of here.”

They ride the elevator in silence for a few moments when there’s a sudden thump on the roof and the elevator lurches.

“Get down!” Kaidan yells, drawing his gun as he unloads a clip through the roof, hoping to slow down the intruder.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Councilor Tevos says, trembling with fear. “The Citadel is supposed to be safe!”

“Damn Cerberus,” Udina mutters.

The elevator lurches to a stop at the top floor and Kaidan ushers the Council out of the elevator, his gun still trained at the unseen gunman on the elevator roof.

“Go, go, go!” he yells. “I’ll be right behind you. Get to the shuttle.”

Once he’s sure there’s no immediate threat, he runs to catch up with the Council, skidding to a stop right in front of their evac shuttle—or what remains of it, at least. It’s little more than a smoking, fiery wreck and Kaidan swears.

“Damnit, Cerberus beat us to the shuttle. Back into the elevator, we’ll find another exit.”

He turns around and stops in his tracks—exiting the elevator is Shepard, Garrus and James on her flanks. Shepard glances around, seemingly not even seeing him, then raises her gun at Udina. Swallowing down the sick feeling in his stomach, Kaidan raises his gun at her.

“Put the gun down, Shepard,” he says.

“Shoot her!” Udina yells. “She’s with Cerberus, Major, she’s blocking our exit!”

“Just… hang on,” Kaidan says, positioning himself between the Council and Shepard. The video evidence is hard to ignore, but there’s still a part of him that doesn’t want to believe it. He can’t give up on her so fast, but he can’t put the Council at risk either.

“Kaidan,” Shepard says, her gun lowering just a fraction. “I can explain.”

Kaidan shakes his head. “Gun drawn on a Councilor? How do you explain that, Shepard? How do you explain what you did to Councilor Valern?”

Shepard’s brows knit together—whether in concern or confusion, Kaidan isn’t quite sure. “What do you mean what I did to Councilor Valern?”

“I saw the security footage,” Kaidan says, hating the way the words feel in his mouth. Hating how he still can’t trust her, how he still can’t be sure he even knows her anymore. “I saw you attack him.”

“I—what?” Shepard says, the crease in her brows deepening before realization dawns suddenly. “Oh, for fucks’ sake. Of course. Look, Kaidan, I don’t know what you saw, but Udina can’t be trusted. All of you are being fooled, he’s the one with Cerberus. Councilor Valern isn’t dead, just injured—because of an assassin Udina sent. He confirmed that Udina is behind the attack.”

Behind Kaidan, Udina scoffs. “Please. Baseless accusations. You never have any proof.”

“There’s an elevator full of Cerberus soldiers right behind me,” Shepard yells, pointing at the elevator doors. “I’ve sealed it for now, but it won’t hold for long. If you open that door, they’ll kill you all, so we don’t have time to negotiate right now. Just don’t do anything drastic, and I can get you the proof when we’re not in a time crunch.”

“We’ve mistrusted Shepard before and it hasn’t helped us,” Tevos muses. “But the security footage…”

“Clearly Udina doctored it because he’s trying to frame me!” Shepard says, her blue eyes blazing with fury. “Councilor Valern isn’t dead and can confirm that Udina is with Cerberus. Let’s just get somewhere safe and then I can provide all the proof you need.”

“She’s stalling so they can come and kill us,” Udina says, heading over to a nearby console. “I’m overriding the lock so we can get out of here.”

Shepard takes a step closer to Udina and Kaidan moves to block her. “I can’t let you do that, Shepard.”

“Please, Kaidan,” she begs. “Just trust me. Do you really think I would attack Councilor Valern? That I would aid Cerberus in a coup? You know me.”

“I thought I did,” he says, hesitating. “But… Shepard, the evidence is pretty damning, you have to admit. There was clearly an inside agent helping the coup, there’s no way Cerberus would have gotten this far otherwise. Same as on Mars. You’re the common denominator, and add in the security footage… it looks bad.”

“I am not a goddamn fucking traitor!” Shepard yells, her biotics flaring up around her. “How many times do I have to prove myself before you believe me? Dr. Eva Coré was the inside help on Mars. Udina is the inside help here. I have done everything in my power to try and stop Cerberus and the Reapers, and I don’t know how else I can prove myself to you, Kaidan. Or why I have to keep trying.”

Behind him, Udina is starting the process of unlocking the elevator doors, and Kaidan hates himself a little bit. Was he too quick to believe Udina, simply because he’d had similar thoughts in the past? Did he believe Udina so readily because deep down, it was easier to betray Shepard once again rather than take a leap of faith and risk losing it all? The security footage was damning, but it’s easy to doctor, easy to stitch together different events to create a different narrative. If Udina really is a traitor, would it be so hard for him to frame Shepard?

He’s still not sure what the right choice is, but if he doesn’t do anything, the choice will be made for him. Maybe it’s time to trust Shepard.

“I hope I don’t regret this,” Kaidan says, slowly lowering his gun.

The relief is palpable in Shepard’s eyes as she lowers her gun as well. “You won’t,” she promises.

“Udina, step away from the console,” Kaidan says. “Let’s get somewhere safe so we can sort this all out.”

“To hell with that!” Udina yells, furiously typing away at the console.

“Udina, be reasonable,” Tevos says, stepping forward. “After all, Shepard has saved us in the past, perhaps we owe her the chance to explain.”

“I’m not letting you mess this up, not when I’ve come so close!” Udina snarls, knocking Tevos to the ground as he pulls out his own gun.

“Gun!” Kaidan yells, raising his again.

There’s the crack of a bullet, and for a moment Kaidan is worried that he fucked it all up, that he doubted Shepard for too long, and now Udina has killed Tevos, but then Udina falls and Kaidan looks over to see Shepard standing there, her gun trained exactly where Udina was.

She walks past Kaidan, carefully not looking him in the eye. “Get the Council back and away from the door.”

Sparatus helps Tevos up as Shepard crouches down next to Udina. Guilt and anxiety press down on Kaidan—guilt because he feels so goddamn useless, guilt because it feels like he was just given a major test when it came to repairing his relationship with Shepard and he failed big time. But anxiety because as guilty as he feels for not trusting Shepard, as much as Udina seemed to damn himself right at the end, it doesn’t change the fact that Shepard just shot and killed Udina. He did do the right thing by stepping aside… didn’t he?

“They’re forcing the door open!” Sparatus cries out.

Shepard is all business, her expression unreadable as she pops the heatsink in her gun and turns towards the elevator door, ready and unafraid. Kaidan trains his gun on the door as well, but when it opens, it’s not Cerberus, but Bailey and a handful of other C-Sec officers who greet them.

“Bailey?” Shepard asks, lowering her gun.

“Got here as soon as we could,” Bailey pants, clearly out of breath as he limps forward. He takes in Udina’s dead body and holsters his gun. “But it looks like you, uh… took care of things.”

“Wait a moment,” Tevos says, stepping forward. “Something isn’t adding up here. Commander, you said that Cerberus was in this elevator, that they were going to kill us. We believed you. But was Udina right all along?”

It’s a possibility that Kaidan doesn’t even want to consider—the possibility that Shepard is a traitor and just murdered Udina in cold blood and he helped her do it. But mercifully, he doesn’t have to worry for long, as Bailey speaks up.

“Cerberus was right here,” Bailey confirms. “But once they realized that we were coming and they were fighting a losing battle, they disappeared into the keeper tunnels. You might not like it, Councilor, but I’ll say it to you plain: Shepard just saved the lot of you.”

“Hey, Bailey,” Shepard starts to say, her voice light, but Kaidan can detect the tension hidden underneath the surface. “Can you call up the security footage from the Executor’s office?”

“Sure,” Bailey says, visibly confused, but he starts typing a command into his omni-tool anyways. “Is there a particular reason why?”

“Apparently Udina doctored the footage to make it look like I attacked Councilor Valern,” she says, the forced lightness still evident in her voice and expression. “I thought I should clear the air.”

“Here we go,” Bailey says, downloading the footage onto a datapad that he then hands to Kaidan. “Knock yourself out.”

The footage starts the same, with Shepard bursting through the window into the Executor’s office, but this time, there’s another figure there. A man, cloaked all in black, some kind of weapon pulsing from his outstretched arm. They circle each other for a while, then Shepard aims her gun over the Councilor’s shoulder, targeted at the Cerberus assassin. He retaliates and Shepard nearly gets hit as she shoves Valern out of the way.

Shame washes over Kaidan, lying heavy on his heart. The real footage is smooth, seamless—why hadn’t he questioned the slight jumps in the footage Udina showed him? Sure, they were subtle, but in retrospect, he should have been able to tell that it was altered footage. In hindsight, the tiny blips seem glaringly obvious, and he can’t bring himself to look Shepard in the eyes or even to apologize. How can he apologize for this?

“How are the Councilor and Thane?” Shepard asks Bailey.

“The Councilor is fine,” Bailey says. “The doctors say he should make a full recovery, the wound was superficial. As for your drell friend… you might want to get over to Huerta Memorial quickly.”

“I see,” is all Shepard says. Kaidan glances up, risking a look at her, but her expression is guarded, neutral. Impossible to read.

He only briefly met Thane, but he’s not sure he would have been able to escape the hospital without his help. Even more than that, he knows he was there to support Lily when Kaidan failed to. He wants to ask what happened, to express his condolences, but what can he say? After all that just happened, after all that he just did, how can words do his thoughts justice? It’s selfish of him to imagine that Shepard would want to hear anything from him right now, so he just stays quiet.

“I… I should go,” Shepard says, her eyes downcast, “Thank you, Bailey.”

Bailey nods. “I’ll be in touch later, Commander. You did the right thing, but a Councilor is dead, which means a lot of paperwork to do, and I’ll need to get your statement of events.”

“Of course,” Shepard says. “You know how to reach me.”

She nods her farewell to Bailey and the Council, avoiding eye contact with Kaidan, then gets into the elevator, Garrus and James following behind. As the elevator doors close, Kaidan is left standing there, watching as the only woman he’s ever loved walks away from him for what might be the last time, knowing that he only has himself to blame.

He made his choice, and now he must live with the consequences, no matter how much guilt he feels. He just hopes he hasn’t completely ruined everything.

Anyone who saw Commander Shepard go by as she went from the top of the Presidium to Huerta Memorial Hospital might think that she was perfectly calm and collected. That she was handling the situation with grace and nerves of steel.

But they’d be wrong.

The shaking of Shepard’s hands, the clench of her jaw, are the only signs that might give away the tension boiling inside her, the grief that threatens to overflow. But she refuses to fall apart now, in front of everyone, because Commander Shepard doesn’t cry. Lily might weep for Kaidan’s distrust of her, even after all this time, she might cry for the inevitable loss of Thane, a dear friend and mentor. But Commander Shepard? She is all hard edges, she is steely eyed gazes and a tough resolve, she is a permanent get shit done mentality. She is the opposite of fragile and she does not cry.

James and Garrus both know her well enough to not question her, to not ask if she’s okay, so they ride the elevator in silence until it opens with a soft ding a short distance away from Huerta Memorial, before making their soft goodbyes.

This is something she must face alone. James never knew Thane, and while Garrus was there for the fight against the Collectors, he and Thane were little more than acquaintances. Besides, this isn’t even about that, it’s about not crowding Thane on his deathbed.
Deathbed. How she hates that thought. But he deserved to go in peace, so she assured Garrus and James that she will be fine and strides on towards the hospital doors, her long legs covering the distance easily. They stay silent, only sharing a glance between themselves as she approaches the front desk, a forced smile plastered onto her face.

She tries not to think about the fact that the hospital is clearly strained for resources, tries not to think about the people injured in the Cerberus coup who are waiting for treatment. Tries not to think about what it might mean for Thane.

“I’m here to see Tannor Nuara,” she says, giving the fake name Thane had told her he used while at Huerta.

“Commander Shepard!” the woman at the front desk says, eyes going wide as she looks up from her work. “Of course. One moment, let me locate the room he’s in… ah yes, here we go. He’s in room 315, it’s just down the hall and on your left.”

“Thank you.” Shepard keeps her head high as she walks down the hall, willing herself to hold it together for just a little bit longer.

“Commander, may I have a word?”

Shepard turns to face the doctor who addressed her, and nods. “How bad is it, doctor?”

“He lost a lot of blood,” the doctor says, concern evident on his face in the way his eyebrows pull together. “We did what we could, but drell blood is in short supply.”

“Is there any way to get more?” Shepard asks, but the look on the doctor’s face tells her that it would all be in vain.

“There’s another drell in there with him, his son,” the doctor continues. “He donated blood, which has prolonged the inevitable, but… Mr. Nuara is in the final stages of Kepral’s Syndrome. No matter how many blood infusions we give him, his body cannot oxygenate the blood properly. The shock of the stab wound is simply too much for his ailing body to bear.”

“I… see,” Shepard says. She swallows down the lump in her throat, takes a breath to steady herself. Just a little longer.

“His son is in there, saying his goodbyes,” the doctor says, placing a gentle hand on Shepard’s shoulder. “You might want to do the same.”

“Thank you,” Shepard says, taking just a moment to compose herself before she enters the room. This is about Thane, and she has to keep herself composed, if only for his sake.

The door slides open and Shepard walks in. Kolyat is there, head bowed, hands clasped to his chest. Thane is lying on the bed, his eyes closed, and for a moment, she fears she is too late.

“Commander,” Kolyat says, looking up. “It’s good to see you again, I… I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Kolyat, you helped stop me from going down a dark path and reunited me with my father. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that.”

Shepard brushed aside the thanks with a wave of her hand. “I’m just glad to see that you reconnected with him, I know it meant a lot. How… how is he?”

“He asked me to take off his oxygen mask, so he’d… so he’d be more comfortable,” Kolyat says. “The doctors say they don’t think it will be long.”

“Shepard.” Thane’s eyes open, a weak smile on his face. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to join you in your fight this time.”

“You’ve done more than enough,” Shepard says, kneeling down beside him and clasping one of his hands in hers. “You saved Councilor Valern’s life. Thanks to you, Udina’s plot to take over was stopped.”

“That assassin should be embarrassed,” Thane says with a chuckle that quickly breaks into coughing. Shepard squeezes his hand gently. “A terminally ill drell managed to stop him from finishing his assignment.”

Shepard laughs slightly, a hollow, empty sound. “I’ll be sure to tell him that next time I see him. Make sure he feels appropriately shamed.”

“Shepard.” Thane grasps for her hands, his grip weak. “Do not cry for me. I leave this world with no regrets. I have already—” he breaks off, coughing.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Shepard soothes, but Thane shakes his head.

“I have already outlived the doctors’ expectations by many months,” he continues. “You woke me up from a deep slumber. You helped me live again, you reunited me with Kolyat. I have much to thank you for. Before this gets worse, before I go, I must…”

He breaks off into another coughing fit and tears prick at the corners of Shepard’s eyes, despite her best efforts. She wants to call for the doctors, to yell at them to do something, anything, to find a miracle cure. She wants to upend the furniture in the room with her biotics, to scream to the universe about how unfair it is that people she loves are dying and she is powerless to stop it.

But none of that will help, so instead she squeezes Thane’s hand a little tighter as she murmurs soothing words.

“Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, I ask for forgiveness,” Thane starts to say, his voice raspy and weak. “Kalahira, whose waves wear down stone and sand—” his voice gives way to another coughing fit and Shepard bites her lip, hard, hating how she can’t do anything to even ease his pain.

“Kalahira, wash the sins from this one,” Kolyat continues. “And set him on the distant shore of the infinite spirit.”

“Ah, Kolyat, you speak as the priests do,” Thane says, managing a smile even as he closes his eyes. “It is… comforting to know you have returned to the faith and spent time with them.”

“Commander, I brought a prayer book,” Kolyat says, walking over to Shepard’s side as he pulls out the book. “Would… would you care to join me?”

“Of course,” Shepard whispers, releasing Thane’s hand as she stands up and looks over the book with Kolyat.

“Kalahira, this one’s heart is pure, but beset by wickedness and contention,” Kolyat starts. He points at the next line, and Shepard continues.

“Kalahira, guide this one to where the traveler never tires, the lover never leaves, the hungry never starve.” Her voice shakes as she reads the words, the beautiful prayer for Thane. Thane makes a small noise of contentment, even as his breath is raspy and pained, and Shepard continues.

“Guide this one, Kalahira, and she will be a companion to you as she was to me.” Shepard’s voice is nearly a whisper at the end. They both watch as Thane’s breathing grows shallower and finally, stops altogether, the faintest of smiles on his face as he crosses over into the next world.

But something about the final verse of the prayer doesn’t add up, and Shepard has to ask. “Kolyat? Why did that last verse say ‘she’?”

Kolyat looks at her, his deep, unfathomable eyes unblinking. “The prayer was not for him, Commander. He has already made peace with his actions and asked for forgiveness for the lives he has taken. His final wish was for you.”

Oh. Something inside Shepard breaks and it takes all her effort to keep the tears at bay. “Farewell, Thane,” she whispers. “May you find peace with Irikah across the shore.”

Although Shepard has never been religious herself, Thane’s own faith brings a small amount of comfort to her. If there is any justice in the world, Thane has reunited with his wife in a place free of pain and suffering, and it eases the heartbreak of his passing just a tiny bit.

“Thank you, Commander,” Kolyat says, his voice quiet. “I… I should make preparations for the funeral.”

Shepard nods. “Your father was a good man, Kolyat. He helped me save countless lives. More than that, he was a valued friend, and his loss will be felt keenly by many. If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”

“Thank you,” Kolyat says again. “For everything.”

Shepard bids her farewell to Kolyat and leaves the hospital, her heart heavy with grief and her eyes aching from unshed tears.

By the time Shepard reaches the Normandy docking bay, she’s barely holding it together. She’s ready to leave this fucking place, to wash off the memories of today and let herself grieve and process for just a moment before it’s time to move on. She’s expecting that her crew might try and ask her things like if she’s okay, that they might awkwardly dance around the subject of Thane, but she can deal with it.

She’s not expecting to see Kaidan waiting there, by the docking bay, pacing back and forth, full of nervous energy.

“Kaidan?”

“Shepard.” Kaidan looks up and stills his pacing. “I… wanted to talk to you. Do you have a moment?”

About what? she thinks. About how you held a gun on me? About how you made me wonder if I was going to have to choose between shooting the man I love and stopping a terrorist? About how yet again, you proved that you don’t believe me and that you don’t trust me?

 To be perfectly honest, she doesn’t want to talk to him right now, but avoiding the issue won’t help. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”
“I’ve been thinking about how things went down,” Kaidan admits. “I… I never thought we’d be in a situation where we had guns pointed at each other. Never thought I’d be staring down the barrel of the gun of my commanding officer. Of… well. You.”

“You pulled the gun first,” Shepard reminds him, crossing her arms. It’s as much a defensive posture as it is to try and hold herself together. She can’t deal with this, not now.

“That’s true,” Kaidan says. “I know… I know I should have believed you. But you have to understand how it looked from my perspective, Shepard. The doctored footage was convincing, and then you come out of the elevator, blocking the exit, pointing a gun at the Council… as a Spectre, it is my duty to protect them. You know that.”

“I do,” Shepard says. As much as it hurts that Kaidan didn’t believe her—again—there is a small part of her that understands. If she had been in his position, would she have done the same? Would she have been willing to take a leap of faith where, if she was wrong, innocent lives would be lost? As much as Kaidan’s lack of trust stings, she can’t completely blame him for being cautious.

“I can’t help but wonder,” Kaidan continues. “If I hadn’t backed down… would you have taken the shot?”
“Would you?” Shepard retorts. “I wasn’t the only one with my gun raised, Major.”

He stiffens slightly at the use of his title, rather than his name, and opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again. His shoulders slump and he dips his head. “No. Never.”

Shepard softens, just a little. “Truth be told, I don’t want to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t backed down. I… I don’t think I’d be able to take the shot, either. Situation cleared?”

Kaidan nods. “There’s one other reason I wanted to talk to you.” He pauses, hesitating, as if he’s not sure about what he’s going to say next. “Hackett offered me a position, working on the Crucible. It’s a good offer, but I’d turn it down in a heartbeat, if… if there was a chance to work with you on the Normandy again. I know it’s a lot to ask, I know I haven’t been a good ally lately, much less… anything else. But it just doesn’t feel right to not be onboard the Normandy during this fight, if you’ll allow it.”

Shepard considers it for a moment. There’s a part of her which wants to tell him no fucking way, to tell him to get lost, that she’s given him plenty of opportunities to believe her, to join her, and time after time, he’s doubted her and proved he doesn’t trust her. But despite everything, she still loves Kaidan. With every beat of her aching, bruised heart, she misses him.

Maybe what they had is over and will never be rekindled. But she won’t let heartbreak and a petty desire for revenge sabotage the mission. Kaidan is a good soldier, and she could use him in the fight.

“Of course,” she says, forcing a smile onto her face as she reaches out to shake his hand. They are two soldiers, they are commanding officer and subordinate, and they are nothing more. “You’re a good soldier and it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Thank you,” Kaidan says. “And Shepard… I need you to know that I’ll never doubt you again. I’m sorry I haven’t trusted you when I should, but from here on out, I’ve got your back. No matter what.”

This time, the hint of a genuine smile crosses Shepard’s face. There are still too many issues they need to sort out, and no amount of apologies will change the past, but she knows they’re both ready to turn a new leaf. It’s not much, but it’s a start, and right now, that’s all she needs.

“Welcome aboard the Normandy, Major Alenko.”

Chapter Text

In the week since the disastrous attempted Cerberus coup on the Citadel, life on board the Normandy settled into an uneasy sort of rhythm. Everyone knew Cerberus was a threat, that much was clear from what they did on Mars—hell, even before then. From the moment Shepard blew up the Collector base, told the Illusive Man to go fuck himself, and stole the Normandy, she knew she wouldn’t be seeing the last of him.

But the attack on the Citadel is different. Cerberus is no longer lurking in the shadows; they made a move that was dangerously close to succeeding and Shepard knows they won’t back down now. She still feels the weight of judgement for her association with Cerberus pressing down on her, a thousand eyes condemning her every time she walks by.

Maybe that’s why she’s devoted as much time as she can, in between fighting Reapers, to helping with the Citadel restoration efforts. Even after all this time, deep down she’s still that scared little girl from the slums of New York, fresh out of training, desperate to prove herself.

She’s lost in her thoughts, aimlessly wandering towards the kitchen to refill her empty coffee mug when she hears the laughter.

“So, we’ve got the cure, we’re making our way to this environmental control place, right?” James is saying, “and a Reaper’s blocking our path. And I’m thinking to myself, how the hell are we going to get out of this one alive, but then boom, a thresher maw comes up out of the ground—no, not just a thresher maw, the goddamn mother of all thresher maws and it takes the Reaper down with it. Man, it was absolutely loco.”

“A thresher maw versus a Reaper?” Kaidan laughs. “Man, I would have loved to see that. But you have to admit, it sounds like one of those silly party questions—like, who would win in a fight between a ninja and a pirate. Who would win in a fight, a thresher maw or a Reaper?”

“Man, obviously a pirate,” James says. “Who needs all that stealth shit? Guns blazing works every time.”

“Ooh hard disagree there, Vega,” Kaidan tuts. “Brute force will only get you so far.”

“Hey, it worked when I saved all your asses back on Mars!” James says. “I didn’t need stealth to bring that Cerberus shuttle down.”

“You nearly crashed into us as well,” Kaidan points out, but James just scoffs.

From her perspective around the corner, eavesdropping, Shepard swallows down the lump of emotion in her throat. It’s been a week since Kaidan rejoined the crew of the Normandy. He’s seemed to acclimate well, and Shepard often sees him chatting with James or helping Garrus with his calibrations or catching up with Liara. But the two of them haven’t spoken.

Sure, he’s friendly enough when they pass each other in the halls, but she hasn’t missed how the conversation dies down when she enters the room, or how he’ll quickly excuse himself. He’s avoiding her and she doesn’t know why.

To be fair, she hasn’t exactly tried to seek him out; she’s been too busy with the Reapers, the Citadel restoration effort and trying to sort out her own feelings towards him. What happened on the Citadel, when she confronted Udina, is still too fresh, too raw.

Kaidan, with his gun drawn, pointed at her. Kaidan, convinced Shepard was a traitor because of Udina’s carefully doctored footage. Kaidan, the love of her life, looking at her with so much distrust and doubt in his eyes. What would have happened if he hadn’t backed down? Would she have shot him? Would he have shot her?

So many questions that she didn’t have the answers to, that she feared the answers to. In the kitchen, James and Kaidan are still debating the merits of pirates versus ninjas, and how it compares to thresher maws versus Reapers. The last thing she wants is to go in there, to interrupt their conversation, to make everything awkward the way it always was with her and Kaidan these days. But damn it all, she’s the commander of this ship, and she needs her coffee. That, and she can’t keep hiding from Kaidan forever.

She pushes a smile onto her face, then rounds the corner, pretending she wasn’t standing there, listening in. “Hey, guys.”

“Oh hey, Shepard,” James says. “I was just filling Kaidan in on our epic thresher maw versus Reaper battle back on Tuchanka. Also, pirate versus ninja? Who would win in a fight?”

Shepard just laughs and shakes her head as she heads to the coffee machine. “I know a trap when I see one, Vega. I’m not getting in the middle of whatever weird argument you two are having.”

“Aw man,” James says. “Come on, Lola. Live a little. Unwind.”

Shepard raises her mug of coffee. “This is my way of unwinding.”

Kaidan laughs and claps James on the shoulder. “Give it up, Vega. It’s not going to happen. But I should get going, I have some paperwork I need to get sorted out.”

James waits until Kaidan is safely out of earshot before turning to Shepard. “Hey, is everything good between you two? I know things got tense back on the Citadel.”

“We’re fine, Lieutenant,” Shepard says, pulling rank intentionally. James is a solid member of her crew and a good friend—he was there for her during her house arrest when no one else was, and she’ll never forget that—but there are some topics that she simply doesn’t want to discuss with him.

“The Major and I are both professionals,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee. “No one suspected Udina of being a traitor, and as a Spectre, Kaidan’s duty is to protect the Council. He was simply doing his job and there are no hard feelings.”

“’The Major and I are professionals,’” James repeats, his tone mocking. “Man, you sound like divorced parents trying to keep it together for the kids. Look out, mom and dad are fighting again.”

“Lieutenant.” Shepard’s voice is a warning.

“Sorry, sorry.” James holds up his hands and backs down. “Shutting up now. I’m going to go get a workout in, these guns won’t maintain themselves.” He flexes to prove his point and Shepard just rolls her eyes.

“You want to come, Lola?” he asks. “Enjoy the view? Maybe spar a little?”

“Spar? You mean kick your ass again?”

“Hey, I was having a rough day that time, okay? I could totally take you in a fight. I mean, look at these guns, baby.” He flexes again and Shepard resists the urge to roll her eyes, again.

“Keep telling yourself that, Lieutenant,” she says, taking another sip of her coffee. “Now, go bother someone else, I have work to do.”

James walks off with a muttered complaint under his breath, and despite herself, Shepard smiles. Sure, James is annoying, brash, far too flirtatious than is professionally appropriate and has an ego the size of the Normandy. But he always knows just what to say to put her at ease, to make her forget, just for a moment, the immense pressure that she is under. And for that, she is forever grateful.

There isn’t anything that can take away the sting of Kaidan’s distrust, or the ache in her heart when she thinks of him. But the support and friendship of her crew, who have become the family she never had, almost makes up for it. Almost.

Sighing, Shepard tips back the last of her coffee, then goes for a refill. There’s always work to do, and right now she feels like she’s drowning in it. So many damn reports crowd her desk. Reports on how the Citadel is recovering from the coup; reports on current Cerberus activity and leads on what the Illusive Man might be planning; reports on what the latest planet to succumb to the Reapers is and just how screwed they are on a scale from very to beyond all hope.

The work won’t get done on its own, so with her second mug of coffee in hand, Shepard heads back to her cabin, hoping that she’ll be able to dig up a few solid leads. Give her and her crew something to cling to, a lifeboat in the storm that is the Reaper invasion.

Kaidan can’t sleep. Or at least, instead of trying to get some sleep in the crew’s quarters, he’s drinking whiskey and looking out the observation window in the lounge. He doubts he’d be able to sleep if he tried, so why bother trying?

He can’t stop thinking about her. Shepard. Lily. He can’t stop thinking about how Udina really got him to believe that she was a traitor; how twice now he’s accused her of still being with Cerberus, of working with the enemy. He didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with himself.

And he can’t stop thinking about seeing her on the ship, how normal it feels to be on board the Normandy, with Shepard, despite how much has changed. It’s a new Normandy, and new crew members, but it still feels like home. But Shepard is different, and he is different and maybe too much between them has changed. He hasn’t missed how she never meets his eyes, how she always looks down at her coffee mug, or at someone else in the room, or at a spot on the wall.

A week ago, shortly after he got here, he bumped into her in the hallway, not looking where he was going as he jogged a couple laps. And when she looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and startled, she looked scared. Scared. He hates that he’s done that to her. He’s been avoiding her ever since, thinking that she’ll come to him when she’s ready, but what if she never is? What if he fucked it up permanently this time?

He’s deep in thought when the door to the lounge opens and he turns, startled, not sure who would be up at such a late hour.

“Oh!” Shepard stands in the doorframe, barefoot, her long blonde hair loose and slightly damp. She’s wearing her Alliance Navy sweatshirt, gray and worn and soft from age. She’s in her pajamas, and Kaidan has to swallow down the lump in his throat.

“Sorry,” she says. “I… I figured you’d be sleeping. I hope I’m not disturbing. I can go…?”

Kaidan shakes his head and gestures her in. “Please. Don’t leave on my behalf. I’m sure the lounge is big enough for the both of us.”

She chuckles slightly and pads on over, walking up next to him as she gazes out the observation window. It seems they both had the same idea. Kaidan can’t help but watch her, can’t help but ache because everyone knows Commander Shepard but this is Lily and he used to know her so well.

It’s easy to forget how small she is. Out on the battlefield, she seems larger than life; all snarls and biotic explosions, a permanent take-no-shit attitude. But here, barefoot and out of armor, she stands almost a full head shorter than Kaidan. She looks… vulnerable. Which seems an odd word to use to describe the legend that is Commander Shepard, but with both the literal and proverbial armor off, she is a different woman.

“Can’t sleep?” he says at last, breaking the awkward silence between them.

She shakes her head. “I… haven’t been doing too much of that lately. Sleeping, that is. You?”

“Me either,” Kaidan admits. “I guess this war’s taking its toll on all of us.”

“Mm.” Shepard makes a small noise of agreement, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Whiskey?” he asks, holding up the bottle, but she shakes her head.

“No, thank you.”

Neither says anything else for a long moment, each lost in their own thoughts, and Kaidan is just starting to wonder if he should say something else when Lily speaks.

“It’s funny, you know,” she starts to say, looking at Kaidan with an expression that he can’t quite read. “Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve loved looking up at the stars. There was too much light pollution in New York to ever see them, but sometimes, way out in the slums, it would get dark enough that you could just make out the brightest stars.”

She pauses and Kaidan frowns, not sure where she’s going.

“And then when the SR-1 went down, and I with it, I realized how inhospitable those stars I’ve always loved are. And yet, strangely, they still bring me comfort. It’s funny, isn’t it?”

‘Funny’ isn’t quite the word Kaidan would have used to describe it. “What was it like?” he asks, the words coming out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“Dying, you mean?” Shepard asks.

“Shit, Lily, I’m sorry I… I shouldn’t have said that,” Kaidan stammers out, unsure how to apologize for asking your ex-girlfriend what her death was like. But there’s a selfish part of him that wants to know, that needs to know. To understand, once and for all, what happened to Shepard. To fully feel the weight of his guilt over his words on Horizon, on Mars, on the Citadel.

But more than that, to know that she is something concrete, that if he dares to reach out again—if she lets him reach out again—she won’t slip through his fingers. Because he can handle the guilt, he can handle her distrust of him. But losing her very nearly broke him and if he were to lose her again he knows he wouldn’t survive it a second time. He needs to understand how she came back so he knows that she is here to stay.

“It was cold,” she says after a moment, wrapping her hands around her torso as if she could still feel the chill. “My suit sprang a leak, and I couldn’t stop it. I thought I knew cold, but this was a kind of cold that makes you forget you ever knew warmth. An all-encompassing chill. I tried to fix it at first, to do something as survival instincts kicked in, but…”

She trails off and presses one hand against the glass, still looking out the window. She doesn’t look at Kaidan, but he looks at her, at her profile, at the rueful, bitter, heartbreaking smile that twists at her lips. At the haunted look in her eyes.

“The technology we rely on to keep us safe ended up just prolonging my death,” she continues after a long pause. “My body kept trying to die. The cold of space was everywhere, and I couldn’t breathe, and bodies need heat and oxygen to survive but I couldn’t. Die, that is. My suit kept bringing me back from the brink when my vitals kept dropping, again and again, pumping me full of medi-gel and stims. I just wanted to die, Kaidan, I just wanted peace but I couldn’t and—”

She breaks off with a shudder, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. Kaidan stands there, uselessly, one hand awkwardly outstretched in an attempt to comfort her, but is that even what she wants right now? From him?

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, taking a chance and resting his hand on her shoulder. Shepard leans into the touch and before Kaidan can overthink it, he pulls her into a hug, wrapping her tight against his body, tucking her head under his as she shudders and cries.

“It’s a death I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy,” she whispers, and Kaidan clutches her tighter, because damned if he’ll ever let her be hurt again. He’s not a perfect man; he’s made a lot of mistakes in life, done a lot of dumb shit, and he’s hurt the people he loves. He’s hurt her because of his hard-headed stubborn refusal to acknowledge what was right in front of him and just trust her.

He should have disobeyed her orders, should have stayed behind on the Normandy until he was safe. He should have given her the benefit of the doubt on Horizon, should have trusted her on Mars after she more than proved herself, should never have believed Udina’s lies about her. Should, should, should. So many things he should have done, and none will change what he did do, but he can change, going forward.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers again, his voice rough with emotion as he presses a chaste kiss to the top of her head, as if he can transfer the weight of his feelings for her through contact alone. The biting guilt, the deep remorse, the love so profound that words can’t do it justice. All of it. Shepard is in his arms again and he never wants to let her go.

Eventually, after a time that could be minutes or centuries, Shepard pulls out of the embrace and Kaidan lets his arms drop uselessly to his sides.

“Next thing I knew, I was waking up on a table in a Cerberus lab and they told me two years had passed,” she says after a moment. “I didn’t… I couldn’t…” she bites her lip as she trails off.

“I was dead, Kaidan. Not just on the brink of death and kept in a coma for two years while I healed, but dead. I… I don’t fully know the details, but I know that Cerberus achieved the impossible. But that doesn’t mean I feel any loyalty towards them, I would never—”

“I know,” Kaidan says, cutting her off. He grabs her hand, then drops it again, ashamed. “I… I know I haven’t been fair to you, Lily. On Horizon. On Mars. On the Citadel. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I’ll live with that guilt for the rest of my life. When the old Normandy went down, when you… when you died, it nearly destroyed me. And when you came back, I was scared. I was scared that you weren’t really you and that I’d lose you again. It was easier to convince myself that Cerberus had changed you, and I’m sorry.”

Shepard inclines her head in acknowledgement, but she doesn’t tell him that it’s okay and he knows that it isn’t. If he could go back in time to Horizon, when he saw her again, he would have pulled her into an embrace and never let her go. He would have joined her fight against the Collectors, he would have stood by her side through her trial for blowing up the Alpha Relay, and maybe things would be different now.

But he can’t. And it will take a long time before the distrust and hurt between them is healed. It will take time for them to recover what they used to have—if they even can. But damn if this doesn’t feel like a solid start.

“It’s late,” she says. “I hope I haven’t been keeping you from sleep.”

“Nah. But what about you?” he says, nudging her gently with his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you also try and sleep? The ship needs her captain at her best.”

Shepard laughs ruefully. “Would that I could, Major. Would that I could.”

He frowns, reminded that there’s still things about Shepard he doesn’t know, that there are still parts of her that are closed off to him. That there are hurts he can’t help mend. He wants to tell her that she can talk to him, tell him what’s on her mind, but what good would that do? It wouldn’t change the fact that the entire galaxy is relying on her to do something that might not even be possible.

“It’s… been nice talking,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “But I should get some work done if I can’t sleep. I don’t want to keep you.”

In the light of the stars, her blonde hair frizzes up around her head like a halo and when she offers up a soft smile, Kaidan’s heart stutters. The first time he’d seen her—really seen her and not the mask of Commander Shepard that she put on—he’d thought she looked like an angel with her halo of soft blonde hair, always struggling to be contained in her neat buns. With one flash of genuine, unguarded smile and the sound of her laugh as she tipped her head back, he knew he was in too deep. There was no coming back from this.

He swore right then and there that if she was an angel, he’d follow her into the depths of hell and back. And so, he did. He’d thought their fight against Saren and Sovereign was the fight of their lives, but then Shepard died, and he truly understood what hell was like. He’s still not sure how he survived those first few months without her—everything is a blurry haze of whiskey and tears as he drowned himself in drink the same way she drowned in starlight.

He’s never been the religious type, never believed in any higher power, but he believes in her. And now here she is, standing in front of him, all soft curves and muted colors in the light of the same stars that took her from him. Like an angel back from the dead, ready to descend into hell once more as they face the Reaper threat together.

And this time, he’s making sure she comes back in one piece.

He swallows down the lump in his throat, shoves aside the ache in his heart, and realizes she’s still waiting for him to respond. “Don’t work yourself too hard, Lily.”

“I’ll do my best,” she says, with a knowing smile that Kaidan recognized means no promises. She’s always been a workaholic. “Take care of yourself, Kaidan.”

She moves past him, her hand lightly brushing against his arm, and Kaidan watches her leave, wishing he could ask her to stay. Hoping that he won’t be watching her leave for the rest of his life.

Back in her cabin, Shepard reads the same sentence in the report Anderson sent her over and over again, her brain refusing to focus on it. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, maybe it’s the stress, or maybe it’s the memory of how Kaidan felt with his arms around her. She’s the Hero of the Blitz, Savior of the Citadel, a gifted biotic, a Commander in the Alliance Navy, and an N7. Her service record is long and impressive, and she’s faced down threats that other people couldn’t even imagine, all without batting an eyelash. She is not just capable and competent; she is damn good at what she does.

But she’s never felt safer than when she’s in Kaidan’s arms. Maybe it was the late hour, maybe it was the vulnerability that came with standing there in her pajamas with her hair down. Standing there as Lily, and not Commander Shepard. But whatever it was, they’d had a connection back there, something more real and intimate than they’d had since before she’d died.

They’d had their moments when Kaidan was in the hospital, but this fragile peace feels different somehow. They’ve both been hurt; they’ve both been pushed to their limits and they’ve both changed as a result. She’s feared that even if they can get past the hurt and the distrust and the betrayal they’ll no longer fit together, that they’ve grown in opposite directions and can no longer reclaim what they used to have.

But back there, bathed in the starlight of the lounge, as Kaidan wrapped his strong arms around her and she breathed in his familiar scent of musk and amber, she realized: no matter how they change, being with him will always feel like coming home.

What they have is still fragile and new; there are still tender, aching hearts that need time to let down their protective walls and there are still broken bonds of trust that need to be repaired. But beneath it all is an unshakeable feeling that she is many wonderful, varied things, but she is not complete without Kaidan.

Beneath it all is hope. And right now, that is enough. It is a feeling she keeps tightly locked inside her heart, relishing in the warm glow of it as she turns back to her work.

Chapter Text

Shepard’s curled up in a chair in the lounge, her nose buried in a datapad when Kaidan walks in. It’s a testament to how engrossed in her work she is that she doesn’t notice him until he’s standing right next to her and clears his throat.

“Kaidan!” she nearly falls out of her chair in surprise. “You startled me.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. “Reading anything interesting?”

Shepard waves the datapad as she stretches. “Just a report from Admiral Hackett. The quarians might be willing to join the war effort, which is great, but there’s also reports about a Cerberus fighter base on Noveria that Hackett also wants help with, and about fifty million other things that need to be done and I have to decide which one is most urgent.”

Kaidan frowns, looking at her. Her blonde hair is tied back into a haphazard, messy bun—far from her usual, regulation appropriate style—and the dark bags under her eyes are unmissable. To put it frankly, she looks exhausted, and the empty coffee mug sitting next to her doesn’t help.

“Shepard…” he trails off, hesitating. Unsure how to tell his commanding officer—who also happens to be his ex-girlfriend—that she looks like a mess and needs to stop running herself into the ground. “I know there’s a lot going on, but when was the last time you got some sleep?”

A brief flash of guilt crosses her face. “Uh…”

“If you have to think about it, it probably hasn’t been enough,” Kaidan points out.

Shepard sighs, running a hand over her face. “Okay, fine. You caught me. Maybe my caffeine intake is a little higher than my hours slept these days, but there’s no time.”

“It won’t help anything if you don’t sleep,” Kaidan says gently. He wants to reach out, to brush the soft wisps of hair out of her face, but he knows he doesn’t deserve that privilege, doesn’t deserve that level of closeness. Not after everything he’s done.

“I’ll try to work on that, Major,” she says, her lips twitching into something that’s almost a smile. She’s wielded his rank like a weapon in the past, a reminder of how he shut her out, how they missed so much of each other’s lives because he was a stubborn jackass who couldn’t just accept her for who she was.

But her tone is teasing this time, like calling him by his rank is a fond nickname rather than a reminder of his failures, and something like hope blossoms in his chest.

He’s just trying to think how he can drag the conversation out longer, how he can find an excuse to stay a little bit longer, when she stretches, rolling her head and letting her neck crack before turning back to him.

“Have you talked to Tali at all recently?”

“Tali?” Kaidan asks, blinking in surprise—he isn’t sure what he’d expected her to say, but certainly not that. “No, I can’t say that I have. After… after we uh… parted ways, I kind of got absorbed in Alliance work. It’s kept me busy these past three years, so I haven’t really been able to keep touch with anyone outside the Alliance.”

Including you, he thinks, the uneasy feeling settling into his gut as he thinks about it. Two years while she was gone—dead, he has to remind himself, his heart stuttering at the reminder—and almost another full year while she was off fighting the Collectors and then suffering the consequences of heroism. His words on Horizon; his lack of communication during her six-month house arrest; his words on Mars; his doubt during the Citadel coup. Sometimes he thinks he’ll be dealing with the guilt from it all forever.

“I figured you probably hadn’t,” Shepard says, frowning down at her datapad. “The quarians are willing to join the war effort, but the details of what they want has been rather… vague. Just that we’re to rendezvous with them in the Far Rim. I’d hoped that maybe if any of us had talked to Tali recently, we might have a better idea, but I haven’t spoken to her since we destroyed the Alpha relay.”

Her hand tightens on the datapad, just a little, and Kaidan wonders how anyone can look at her and see a cold-blooded killer who destroyed the colonists of Aratoht without a second thought. He might not have been there, but he knows her, and he knows how much she throws her heart and soul into everything she does. How much decisions like this haunt her, and how many more she’ll have to make before this war is over—if this war is ever over.

What was it Garrus had taken to saying? Something about the cold calculus of war. And Shepard, Lily, was the one paying the heaviest price.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be too bad, right?” Kaidan says. “I mean, you just cured the genophage. You’ve managed to get the krogans and the turians working together and that’s the closest damn thing to a miracle I’ve ever seen.”

Shepard laughs, some of the tension easing out of her shoulders. “It was mostly just a lot of yelling at people—turns out telling the Council to go to hell way back when was good preparation.”

“Well, if this war can be won by yelling at people until they do the right thing, I can’t think of a better person to get the job done,” he says, enjoying the faint blush that spreads across her cheeks as she ducks her head to try and hide it.

“Glad I have your vote of confidence,” she says softly, looking back up at him. “It’s good to have you on my team.”

“Always, Lily,” he promises, hoping she can feel the weight of his words, know how deeply he means them. He’s let her down too many times in the past and it haunts him. If she’ll have him again—whether as a squad mate, friend or lover—he swears he’ll never let her down again. Life is too short for more regrets, for not telling this beautiful woman in front of him how much he loves her, how much he has always loved her.

Shepard’s eyes soften and she dips her head in recognition of his words. “Thank you.”

***

After her brief conversation with Kaidan in the lounge, Shepard makes up her mind to head to the Far Rim to deal with the quarians. The reports about something involving Cerberus are still too vague, and while Traynor promised to try and track down more information, there was no time to sit around and wait.

But the moment the Normandy docks with the quarian flotilla, Shepard can’t help but feel uneasy, a feeling that only intensifies as she looks at the scans of the quarian envoy ship. Heat venting? Stealth technology? How did the quarian flotilla get access to that kind of technology? Well. The how wasn’t too much of a mystery—Tali is even better with tech than most quarians, and Shepard had happily given her full access to the Normandy’s engines, both times she’d served.

But why had the quarians adapted stealth technology for their ships? And how had they gotten the resources for it? The Normandy—both iterations of it—was a state-of-the-art ship that had cost the Alliance and then Cerberus untold numbers of credits to create. Shepard knows for a fact that the quarians don’t have the necessary resources, and the issue of why they even adapted stealth technology in the first place isn’t something she really wants to contemplate right now.

So, she shoves those thoughts away and tries not to fidget in her dress blues as she welcomes Admirals Raan, Xen, Korris and Gerrel into the war room.

“Admirals,” she greets them. “Pleasure to see you. I got your message about potentially joining the war effort—I hope you’re sincere, we could really use you. What’s going on?”

Admiral Gerrel is the first to speak. “Seventeen days ago, we initiated the war to retake our homeworld. We struck the geth with four precision strikes and have weakened their defenses considerably.”

Shepard massages her temples, a headache already forming. Of fucking course they did. This is the last thing she needs right now.

“Launching the war was in direct violation of our Council agreement!” Admiral Korris argues. “We agreed to avoid further provoking the geth.”

“Who cares about a treaty?” Admiral Xen scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. “Your whining and sympathizing with synthetics will get us nowhere, Korris. We’re talking about the opportunity to reclaim our homeworld and make use of advanced AI technology at the same time.”

“Look,” Shepard says, cutting the Admirals off before they can argue more. “I understand the desire to reclaim Rannoch, but it’s like I said back during Tali’s trial—it’s too risky. Back then, there was always the fear of the Reapers, but now the Reapers are here and we need your support to push them back, or else we’ll never survive.”

“Maybe we wouldn’t have lost our homeworld in the first place if we hadn’t tried to kill the geth,” Admiral Korris mutters.

“We didn’t try to kill them, Korris,” Xen says, her voice dripping with disdain. “They’re machines. We just tried to deactivate them; it wasn’t murder.”

Shepard bites her lip, thinking about Legion and about the heretics, about learning that the geth were so much more than the mindless killing machines everyone feared after Eden Prime. That, synthetic or not, they were clearly capable of intelligence. More than intelligence; they were capable of emotions and desire and independent thought.

“I understand that it got out of control,” she says, choosing her words carefully. “But pretending it wasn’t murder won’t help. Call it what it was.”

“Commander, the quarians never intended to create true AI,” Admiral Raan pleads. “We never expected them to achieve genuine consciousness. It was all a terrible accident.”

“I know,” Shepard says, starting to pace around the war table. Navigating quarian-geth relations was not something she had intended to do when she woke up this morning—not like she doesn’t have enough to deal with already right now. “I know it was a mistake. But you chose to try and correct that mistake by killing them—that is when it became murder.”

The Admirals are silent for a moment, exchanging unreadable glances between each other, butShepard is too tired to care about diplomacy right now. There’s too much at stake to hide behind niceties and euphemisms.

Admiral Korris is the one to break the silence. “Don’t waste your breath, Commander. Admitting we were wrong to kill the geth would mean admitting this idiotic, suicidal invasion plan is a bad idea.”

“Like I said, I understand the desire to retake Rannoch—” Shepard starts to say before Gerrel cuts her off.

“No, you don’t understand,” he snaps. “You’re a human. You have Earth and your colonies. Imagine if Earth was destroyed and you were forced to live on sterile ships. Imagine that your only hope of seeing your grandchildren start to be able to live without these stifling suits was to reclaim your homeworld. That any other planet would take much longer. You’d do the same in our position.”

Shepard bites back the answer on the tip of her tongue—Earth just might be destroyed if we don’t get everyone working together to stop the Reapers. She knows it isn’t the same, and regardless, she’s had enough years of experience to know that being petty never helps with diplomatic situations.

“You’re right,” Shepard says, taking a deep breath. “I don’t understand what it’s like for you, and the struggles that you face. But I do know that the geth are a formidable enemy, and the Reapers even more so. And I know that if we don’t all rally together to stop the Reapers then we will all die and worries about having to live in an enviro-suit will seem like a luxury.”

She pulls her arms behind her back, straightening her posture as she resumes her pacing. “And I know that the quarians are drastically outnumbered in this fight, and that you cannot afford a war of attrition—which is exactly what this will become, if you’re not all killed outright, and the geth will win every time.”

“I agree,” Korris mutters after a moment’s pause. “We have survived on the flotilla for three centuries. It may not be perfect, but I fear we may have doomed our people for good this time.”

“Regardless, it’s too late to worry about that now,” Gerrel says. “And we didn’t come here to argue, Commander.”

He taps a command into this omni-tool and projects an image of the galaxy map onto the screen in the war room. “We chose our strikes carefully. They were highly effective and we’d driven the geth back to the home system when we noticed an odd signal broadcasting to all geth ships.”

Shepard bites down on the mixture of fear and rage that rises in her as she leans forward, looking at the projected image. Knowing there’s only one thing that can cause a signal like that. “The Reapers.”

“Unfortunately so,” Gerrel confirms. “The Reaper signal has made the geth significantly stronger and more effective, and we can’t fight them. We’re pinned, and if we want to win—”

Korris interrupts with a scoff. “Win? We can’t win, Gerrel. I was under the impression we came here to get Commander Shepard’s assistance in providing cover for a safe retreat. You insisted on involving the civilians. If we don’t retreat, we’ll lose the liveships!”

Shit. Admiral Gerrel had gotten the civilian liveships involved? That was worse than bad. The quarians couldn’t afford many casualties, their population was precarious as is, but with the civilians involved, they were talking about potential extinction on the line.

She sighs, closing her eyes for just a moment to try and ward off the massive headache that’s forming. She’s not about to let the quarians’ stupidity wipe them all out—yet another impossible task that only she can solve. Must be a day that ends with a y.

“Where’s the signal broadcasting from?”

Admiral Gerrel taps in another command on his omni-tool. “Here. It’s originating from a geth dreadnought. We’ve done as many scans as we can from a distance, but it’s heavily defended and it’s clear it can outgun anything we’ve got.”

Shepard bites her lip, leaning in to look at the dreadnought. It’s not going to be pleasant, but when is anything these days? She can do it. Regardless of whatever pseudo stealth technology the quarian envoy ship has adapted, the Normandy’s stealth technology is second to none. She hates it when she’s the only one who can get a job done, and there’s been a lot of that lately. But Commander Shepard isn’t the type to give up.

“The Normandy’s stealth drive can get us in undetected, and I should be able to board and disable the signal from there.”

“Yes, good,” Xen says, almost absent-mindedly. “Cutting off the signal should send the geth into complete disarray. It will give us a perfect time to attack.”

“No, it will give you the perfect time to retreat,” Shepard snaps. “If we’re all still alive when the Reapers are dealt with, we can discuss the possibility of retaking Rannoch, but I’m not going to risk my own life disabling the signal just to watch you squander your own.”

“I agree,” Korris says with a slight nod. “Our civilian ships were never meant for fighting and they’ve already seen too much of it. Are… are you certain you can disable the signal, Commander?”

No. She’s not about to confess that to the Admirals, but nor is she going to lie to them. “We’ll get you out of there safely, Admiral.” Because one way or another, she is going to do that. She’s not about to let the quarians drive themselves into extinction.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Admiral Raan says. “Our newest Admiral has also expressed her interest in lending her technical expertise to the mission.”

Before Shepard can ask what Raan means, the doors to the war room open once more, and a very familiar figure walks through them.

“Sorry I’m late. Admiral Tali’Zorah vas Normandy, reporting for duty.”

For the first time since this hellish meeting started, Shepard breaks into a genuine smile. She and Tali have been through just about everything together, and there’s no one she’d rather infiltrate a geth ship with.

“Glad you could make it, Tali,” she says. “And what’s this about Admiral? It seems congratulations are in order.”

Tali nods slightly. “Thank you, Commander. I’d be happy to discuss it more later.”

Shepard turns back to the Admirals. “I’ll ready a team to infiltrate the dreadnought and stop the signal. Dismissed.”

She exits the war room, jerking her head slightly in the hopes that Tali will follow. She hadn’t missed Tai’s carefully formal tone, and she knows all too well the necessities of keeping up a professional front in the company of others. If she wants to talk to her friend, and not the mask of Admiral Tali’Zorah vas Normandy, she knows it’s going to have to be in private.

Tali makes her excuses and follows Shepard to the quiet of the empty meeting room. For a moment, neither of them speaks, Tali gazing out the window and Shepard wondering what to say. After her six-month house arrest, everything feels awkward and stilted, like her friends have all moved on without her. Some had done their best to stay in communication, despite the Alliance heavily screening her messages, but they all had their own lives to live. Besides, there was only so much that could be communicated through the heavy filters the Alliance imposed. Anything deemed too sensitive, anything with the barest hint of politics or current galactic events had been barred from reaching Shepard.

“So,” Shepard says, breaking the silence at last. “Admiral, huh?”

At this, Tali turns around, scoffing. “It’s largely just a formality. I lack the age and experience to be an admiral under any normal terms, but I am an expert on the geth.”

“I don’t think anyone can argue with that,” Shepard agrees.

“Heh.” Tali laughs slightly, and underneath her helmet, Shepard thinks she sees the hint of a smile. “I’m… I’m glad you’re here, Shepard.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner,” Shepard says. “I know your people have talked about reclaiming the homeworld, but… shit. I had no idea things were so bad.”

“You had no way of knowing.” Tali turns back to look out the window, and Shepard joins her. “You’ve been busy with your own troubles. I’m sorry to hear about Earth.”

Earth. The memory of seeing it burning, of seeing the Reapers on the ground, cutting through skyscrapers like they were nothing, twists in Shepard’s gut. And she knows it’s only gotten worse since she left. Growing up in the slums of New York City, she’d been all too happy to escape when she joined the Alliance. She’d hopped on the first ship and never looked back, thinking that Earth had nothing to offer. All she’d ever known was dirty streets and buildings that blocked out the sun; people with cruel smiles and broken promises and strategic lies.

What could that compare to the wonders of space, where she could be someone?

But Earth is still her home, and if she thinks too hard about the fact that if she doesn’t pull this off, Earth will be gone—forever— she loses control. And that’s something she can’t afford right now. So, she pushes the feelings down. Takes a deep breath.

“We have the largest fleet in the galaxy,” Tali continues. “Some of our ships might have seen better days, but we’re still more capable than people give us credit for. If you can help us out of this situation, we’ll hit the Reapers with everything we’ve got. You’re not in this alone.”

“Thank you,” Shepard says, her throat tightening with emotion. “Leaving Earth was… hard. Faced with the prospect of never seeing Earth again, of losing it forever… I guess I can understand why your people wanted to take back your homeworld.”

Tali sighs, shaking her head. “I’m… not so sure.”

“Oh?” Shepard arches an eyebrow. “I would have thought you’d support the war.”

“Once upon a time, yes,” Tali says. “Even back when you helped me clear my name, and when we discovered my father’s research… what he did was terrible. But I thought that trying to reclaim Rannoch was the right thing to do.”

She pauses and chuckles softly. “But then I got to know Legion. And I started to think maybe peace was possible. A year ago, if you’d told me that I would end up serving alongside a geth and start thinking about peaceful solutions for both of our races, I would have said you’re a bosh’tet who has lost your mind. But… here we are.”

“If you’re against the war, why not say something?” Shepard asks. “You must have influence, Tali; you’re an admiral.”

But Tali just shakes her head. “It’s because I’m an admiral that I can’t say anything. You saw what Korris and Xen and Gerrel were like back there—someone has to keep the peace. Auntie Raan does what she can, but she’s just one woman. The whole fleet looks to us for guidance, to me for guidance. Even Korris and Gerrel keep their disagreements to a minimum in public, because they know that we can’t afford to divide the fleet right now.”

Shepard sighs, looking back out the window at the twinkling stars. The galaxy was an infinite place, but these days, it had started to feel awfully small. She knows all too well the struggles of leadership, of needing to present a united front but getting dragged down by the loudest voices. She’s not going to let Gerrel’s recklessness doom the entire quarian race.

“We’ll get your people out of there safely,” she promises. “I need a little time to formulate a plan to infiltrate the geth dreadnought, so we’re not going in blind, but I’ll stop that signal before it can do irrevocable damage. How long can you hold out?”

Tali tilts her head, considering. “We started the attack seventeen days ago, and it’s been four days since the Reaper signal started broadcasting. It took the admirals swallowing their pride to come to you for help. We’re losing, but we can hold out for another day or two.”

“It shouldn’t take that long,” Shepard says. “I just don’t want to get us into bigger trouble if we go in unprepared. But I won’t let you down.”

“Thank you, Shepard,” Tali says. She glances towards the war room, then back at Shepard. “I probably don’t need to tell you this, but I have to keep things strictly business related in front of the admirals. But let’s catch up in private sometime soon?”

“Sounds great,” Shepard says. “I should get to work on a plan to infiltrate this ship, we don’t have much time to waste. We’ll talk later.”

“I should get back to the war room anyways,” Tali says. “I need to keep monitoring the situation in Rannoch’s orbit.”

They bid each other goodbye, with Shepard heading back to the lounge, her data pad fully updated with the scans of the geth dreadnought the quarian admirals had sent over.

***

In a scene surprisingly similar to that morning, Shepard finds herself once again buried in scans and research and reports when Kaidan walks into the lounge.

“Well, this looks familiar,” he says, and Shepard can’t help but chuckle.

“I don’t do much else with my life these days,” she admits. “And I figured after being holed up in my cabin for the past several days, a change of scenery might be nice. But there’s a geth dreadnought to infiltrate, and I don’t want us catching any nasty surprises.”

Kaidan frowns, settling down on a chair opposite Shepard’s. He’s just wearing the standard-issue Alliance fatigues, but Shepard’s breath catches in her throat at how damn good he looks in them. She hasn’t allowed herself much of a chance to think about him lately—they’d had those brief, tender moments in the hospital, but then the Cerberus coup had happened.

And he’d nearly shot her. She’d nearly shot him. She’s not sure which is worse—that he still didn’t trust her, after all that time, or that she’d almost had to choose between stopping Udina and Cerberus from murdering the Council or not shooting the only man she’s ever loved.

She still hasn’t allowed herself to really process what happened, or what’s happened since. His sincere apology for doubting her, so many times. That moment they shared, right here in this lounge, when she’d broken down and he’d just held her while she grieved her own death.

Right now, the tension between them is like the dry underbrush of a forest in drought, and a single spark is all it will take to set it off—but whether it will ignite their old passions or burn them both to ashes, she isn’t sure. And as much as she wants to find out, as much as she craves it, she’s scared. So, she’s kept her distance. She’s kept her heart carefully guarded.

But damn is it hard to stay guarded when Kaidan is sitting there in front of her, a day’s worth of stubble on his chin, his muscles casually rippling under the sleeves of his shirt. He’s filled out in the years I’ve been gone.

“Shepard?” he asks, and Shepard snaps herself out of her thoughts, flushing when she realizes she’s been lost in thought, and he’d asked her something.

“I’m sorry.” She rubs her temples and offers up an apologetic smile. “I have a lot on my mind at the moment. What did you say?”

Kaidan hesitates. “Well, I had asked if you had any ideas about how you wanted to handle the geth dreadnought, but… are you okay? Honestly. Don’t just lie and say you’re fine.” He adds that on at the end as she opens her mouth.

A laugh bubbles up out of Shepard, despite herself. She’d been about to say exactly that, but he’s always known her too well.

“I’m… I don’t know,” she admits. “There’s a lot to deal with right now. And I haven’t really… been sleeping, which doesn’t help, but…” she trails off with a shrug.

“You can’t save the galaxy if you don’t take time for yourself,” Kaidan says gently, placing a hand on her knee.

The touch is warm and unexpected, and she wants to lean into it, wants to forget about the war, forget about the Reapers, and just be with the man she loves. She wants to be someone other than herself, but she can’t. She is Commander Shepard, and the galaxy needs her.

“Not enough hours in the day to sleep,” she says, her lips twisting into a wry smile. It’s only half a joke. Most days, the only sleep she gets is short naps at her desk, times when exhaustion overcomes her and she wakes up an hour or two later to find her neck is stiff, her back sore, and the edge of a data pad has creased into her cheek. The rare occasions when she actually uses her bed, she’s plagued by nightmares that make her never want to close her eyes again.

Kaidan frowns, his brows knitting together in concern. “Shepard…”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, trying to arrange her face into something that looks like a reassuring smile. Before she can second guess herself, she places her hand on his and twines their fingers together. “I’m Commander Shepard, Hero of the Blitz, Savior of the Citadel. I look death in the eye and laugh. I can handle this.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Kaidan says softly. He’s looking down at their intertwined hands, but Shepard can still see how his expression twists into a grimace, as if he’s wrestling with himself internally. He sighs, releasing the tension in his hunched-up shoulders and looks up at her.

“Lily, I…”he trails off. He reaches his other hand, the one that isn’t holding hers, towards her face. It’s a hesitant, halting motion, as if she might jerk away at any moment, but when she doesn’t, he tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing softly against her cheek as he does so.

Shepard closes her eyes, trying not to shudder at the gentle touch. Her whole life, she’s always been accustomed to roughness, to violence and cruelty. With Kaidan, she had learned what it’s like to be held gently, to be loved, but it’s been so long, and she’s nearly forgotten what it feels like; the surprising tenderness of it nearly brings tears to her eyes.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion.

Before Shepard can figure out how to respond, before she can trust her voice not to break when she dares speak, Traynor comes bursting into the lounge.

“Shepard! Err, Commander. Ma’am.”

Shepard and Kaidan leap apart like two teenagers caught canoodling on the couch by their parents. They hadn’t even been doing anything, but Shepard straightens up, tries not to blush, and clears her throat. “Yes, Traynor?”

“I’m, uh… sorry to interrupt,” she says, glancing between Kaidan and Shepard. “I just… you know those strange Cerberus readings I mentioned? I’ve been looking into it, and there‘s been talk of a group of Cerberus scientists who have left. Left Cerberus, I mean. Cut ties, fled, the whole shebang. And these are some of the top scientists under the Illusive Man, truly some of the most brilliant minds in the galaxy, and who knows what they’ve been researching, but they could give us important inside information on Cerberus and they could help build the Crucible and—”

“Slow down, Traynor,” Shepard says as the woman starts tripping over her words in her haste to get them out. “Take a deep breath. What is so important about this?”

“Right. Sorry.” Traynor inhales, then exhales, and when she speaks again, it’s less frantic. “The point is, there is a group of scientists out there who have escaped Cerberus and are looking for refuge. The Alliance has been trying to find them, but so is Cerberus, so they’ve been very good at covering their tracks. But I couldn’t let an opportunity like this go to waste, so I’ve been tracking known Cerberus cells and old Cerberus bases and cross-referenced Cerberus ship movements and…”

“You found them?” Shepard asks, and Traynor nods.

“I believe so. But the trouble is, so has Cerberus. If I have the location right, there’s an inbound Cerberus ship as we speak. And I don’t know how long a group of scientists can last against a military assault. If we want to utilize this resource—no, if we want to help these people—then we don’t have any time to waste. I… just thought you should know.”

“You did the right thing, Traynor,” Shepard says but inwardly she grimaces, thinking over the choice that lay in front of her. She can’t let this opportunity slip by—not only can she not in good conscience abandon these people to the cruelty of Cerberus, but they could also provide some needed information on just what Cerberus was up to and they could help with building the Crucible.

But Tali and the quarians need her to stop the signal coming from the geth dreadnought. Two urgent situations, and she has to choose which one to do first. We can hold out another day or two, was what Tali had told her. Could the Cerberus scientists survive that long? Somehow, she doubts it.

“Traynor.”

Traynor had been on her way back out of the lounge, but her head snaps up when Shepard calls her. “Yes, Commander?”

“Get me the coordinates for those scientists,” she says. “We have a rescue mission to organize.”

“Right away, Commander,” Traynor says, saluting quickly before running back off to the CIC.

“Hey.” Kaidan’s voice is soft as he places a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she turns to face him. “You’re doing the right thing. And the quarians will be okay, I know you’ll be able to get that signal shut off.”

For a moment, she leans into his touch, letting herself enjoy the simple warmth of it and the faint electrostatic currents of his biotics that rise from him, mingling with her own. In that moment, it is enough. All the pain they have been through—her death, his distrust, his own near death, all their fights and arguments—none of it matters. In that moment, they are enough.

But as much as she wishes she could stretch that moment into eternity, there is too much to do, so she breaks it, letting the mask of Commander Shepard slide into place. “There’s no time to waste. I’m going to enjoy stealing the Illusive Man’s scientists right out from under his nose.”

One of these days, she’s going to finally come face-to-face with him. And when that time comes, she’s going to do a lot more than just tell him to go to hell.

Chapter Text

“Alright, Traynor, what’s the brief?” Shepard asks, looking over the various maps and memos that Traynor has put up on display in the war room.

“Cerberus is one step ahead of us,” the British woman grimaces, calling up an audio feed that’s punctuated by bursts of gunfire. “I’ve tapped into the communications on the base, and as you can tell, they’re under attack already. The base defenses are holding for now, but I urge haste.”

“So much for this being an easy in and out mission,” Shepard grumbles. But even though she’d hoped for the best, she’d prepared for the worst; Cerberus had been one step ahead of them throughout this whole damned war, so why should that change now?

“How strong are the Cerberus forces?” she asks, eyeing the blueprint of the base that Traynor had found. It was only a partial, but it was better than nothing. The only viable landing zone is far enough from the entry to the base that they’d have to fight their way through, and the last thing Shepard wants is to go in unprepared.

“Hard to tell,” Traynor says. “But judging by the sound of the assault? They really want to get to those scientists.”

“We can handle some Cerberus troops,” Garrus says from beside Shepard. “Kicking Cerberus ass? That’s what I call fun.”

One corner of Shepard’s mouth twitches up into a smile. She’d grabbed Kaidan and Garrus for this mission—her two best guys. Garrus’ skill with both assault rifles and sniper rifles is invaluable, plus his tactical expertise from both his time in C-Sec and his Archangel days. Kaidan is a powerful biotic and a Major in the Alliance for a reason. Whatever Cerberus throws at them, they can handle it.

If she’s being fully honest with herself, she also wants Kaidan to come so he can see her fighting Cerberus. After his initial apology for not trusting her and promising not to doubt her again, they haven’t broached the subject, but it’s still a somewhat sensitive subject. She can’t erase the memory of his words on Horizon, on Mars, on the Citadel; can’t pretend that part of her doesn’t still hurt. That part of her fears it will happen again.

And maybe if Kaidan sees her fighting side by side with him to take down Cerberus, that will help ease some of those fears.

“The defense won’t hold for long, and we can’t let Cerberus get their hands on these scientists,” she says, after a moment’s pause as she tears her eyes away from the limited information on screen. “Let’s go.”

The landing zone is hot, a whole platoon of Cerberus troops spread out and firing at the scientists—whoever these scientists are, Cerberus really doesn’t want to let them go. All the more reason for Shepard to rescue them. For better or worse, the Cerberus soldiers are trained on the scientists and don’t hear the approach of the shuttle until Cortez has nearly landed.

The element of surprise doesn’t last for long, but the time it takes for the Cerberus troops to re-organize and realize someone’s coming in from behind is enough for Shepard to dive into cover and immediately set up a singularity. The pull from it drags two soldiers into the center and Kaidan detonates with a throw, instantly killing the assault troopers with the biotic explosion.

Gods, how she’s missed this. The faint electrostatic hum of Kaidan’s biotics rising off his skin, the way they mesh and mingle with hers. The way their powers play off each other so well. And it’s different now than it was on Mars, different now that there’s a peace between them.

It’s evident in the way he throws her a cocky grin as he throws out a reave, stripping the barrier of an approaching Phantom, or the slightly awestruck look he gives her as she sends out a flare to knock out two more assault troopers. Back on Mars, they’d treated each other’s new biotic skills like a threat—she’d been angry at him for not being there, for missing too many things, and the fact that he was not only a Major but could reave felt like rubbing salt in the wound. So, she’d pushed herself to be her very best, to show that she’d changed, too, and she didn’t need him.

But here and now, it feels as natural as breathing. It strikes her suddenly, as she sends out a shockwave to knock down a Guardian, that she’s having fun. Kaidan seems to be feeling the same, and they keep pushing each other to be better, keep setting up biotic combos and making quick work of the Cerberus troops. It turns into a friendly competition, and she doesn’t even realize she and Kaidan are trying to one-up each other until she hears Garrus grumble something under his breath about “biotic show-offs.”

“A well-calibrated gun will serve you better than anything else,” he says as he pops the heat sink on his sniper rifle. “You might be able to manipulate dark energy, but can you do this?”

He lines his gun up with a Guardian all the way on the other side of the battlefield and nails a perfect headshot, through the slot in the shield. As the Guardian falls, he turns to Shepard, his mandibles fluttering in amused self-satisfaction, knowing that she’s never been great with long-range sniping. She’s never needed to, with biotic abilities like hers, and the heavy weight of carrying a sniper rifle with her everywhere just tires out her biotics faster. But it’s something Garrus has taken great pleasure in over the years anyways.

“Yeah yeah,” she grumbles, but her annoyance is good-natured and her lips twitch with the effort of suppressing a smile. “You and your damn calibrations.”

Scanning the battlefield, she spies a few stragglers remaining, their attention still focused on the civilian scientists. A quick pull leaves them floating helplessly, easy targets for Garrus and Kaidan finish them off. Another quick scan doesn’t reveal any further Cerberus troops, so Shepard slowly edges out of cover.

“Looks like we’re clear,” she says. “Let’s check for survivors.”

The battlefield has fallen into silence, save for a few faint, pained groans, and Shepard passes more than one dead civilian as she, Garrus, and Kaidan pick their way towards the entrance to the base. Cerberus has a lot to answer for. Even though she never really worked for Cerberus, even though she just used their resources to wage a war the Alliance couldn’t help her with and then broke ties the moment she could, she still feels a sick sense of dread whenever she sees the carnage that Cerberus has caused.

If only she’d done more, if she’d trusted her instincts about the Illusive Man and done more than steal his ship—her ship, really, Cerberus might have rebuilt both her and the Normandy, but that didn’t mean either belonged to the Illusive Man—and tell him to go fuck himself. Then maybe it wouldn’t be this bad. Maybe they wouldn’t have to be fighting a civil war on top of the Reaper war, maybe—a soft hand on her shoulder startles Shepard out of her thoughts.

Kaidan is there, his eyes compassionate and full of concern, as if he knew just what she’d been thinking, what she’d been spiraling into. And maybe he did. He’d always been good at that, at knowing just what she was thinking, just what she needed. Until he hadn’t. It had made his words to her on Horizon all the more painful, but they’re past that now—or at least she hopes they are.

“You okay?” he asks softly, and she nods.

Before she can say much else, she hears a voice call out from near the entrance to the base. “Hello? Who’s there?”

Shepard nearly trips in surprise. She knows that voice. Six months isn’t long enough to erase the memory of it, to forget about him and the few precious moments they shared onboard the Normandy before embarking on what they all thought would be a suicide mission.

“Jacob?” she catches Garrus’ eyes, his eyebrow ridges rising in surprise as he meets her gaze, recognizing the voice as well. But what was Jacob doing here? As far as Shepard knew, Jacob had left Cerberus right around the same time she did—by the time they destroyed the Collector base, no one onboard the Normandy had much love for the Illusive Man anymore.

Sure enough, as Shepard clears the barricade in front of the base doors, she sees Jacob Taylor leaned against the crates the scientists were using for cover, one had pressed against his side.

“Shepard?” Jacob asks as he sees her, his surprise as evident as hers.

Shepard crouches down beside him, eyes on the wound in his side. “You’re hit. How bad is it?”

“I’ll live,” he grunts. “My shields took the brunt of it, it’s mostly superficial. We have a supply of medi-gel inside, I’ll patch up there.”

“This is Brynn,” a staticky voice says, and Shepard casts her eyes over to a nearby communicator. “Jacob, are you there? If anyone can hear me, come in.”

Seeing as it’s closer to her, and Jacob clearly shouldn’t be moving too much, Shepard grabs the communicator and picks it up. “This is Commander Shepard of the Alliance Navy. The enemy has been neutralized for now, but Jacob has been wounded. Open the doors.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Jacob? Can you confirm that?”

“It’s all right, Brynn,” he grunts. “It’s safe to open the door.”

The base door slides open a moment later, and Shepard helps Jacob to his feet, Garrus supporting him from the other side. While Kaidan stands behind them. A quick glance at him reveals nothing, his expression is unreadable. But he knows about Shepard’s history with Jacob, and he certainly wasn’t too happy about it when the topic came up in the hospital.

But he’s also just as much a professional as she is, and the sound of an incoming Cerberus shuttle is enough to hurry all of them into the base. There are far more important things at stake right now.

“Jacob!” a woman exclaims as she ushers them inside. “How bad is it? I’ll grab the medi-gel.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jacob says, though the fact that he’s only standing because Shepard and Garrus are holding him up slightly belies that claim. “But… the others didn’t make it.”

“Damn it,” the woman mutters. As if she just now registered the presence of someone other than Jacob, she turns to Shepard. “I’m Dr. Brynn Cole. Apologies for the delay in opening the doors. With your past connection to Cerberus, I had to be sure.”

My past connection to Cerberus? Shepard thinks. Jacob had a hell of a lot more of a connection to Cerberus than I ever did, but I’m the one you’re concerned about?

She shakes off her irritation and shakes Brynn’s outstretched hand. “No harm done, always better to be cautious. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Brynn’s the one in charge here,” Jacob says as Brynn leads them towards medical to get Jacob patched up.

“Give me the rundown,” Shepard says. “What are you even doing here, Jacob? I thought you cut all ties with Cerberus more than six months ago.”

“I did,” he says. “But I knew Brynn from before. I’m supposed to be protecting these people from the Illusive Man and his damn attack dogs, but… well, you saw what it was like out there.”

“We wouldn’t even stand a chance without you,” Brynn reassures him. “So few here have any actual combat experience.”

“What’s the situation?” Shepard asks. “Intel says you’re all ex-Cerberus. What made you flee?”

Brynn nods as they get to the medical area, grabbing a packet of medi-gel and tossing it to Jacob. “We’re all scientists, mostly. Civilians. The Illusive Man had us working on different parts of the intel gathered from the Collector base. We each had our own project; they were all components of a larger piece of tech.”

Shepard swears softly under her breath. She’d destroyed that base for a reason—not just so the horrors that had happened there would go unavenged, but so people like the Illusive Man couldn’t use it to cause further harm. But of course that shifty bastard had found a way to salvage some of the tech anyways.

“Something went wrong?” Shepard prompts Brynn when the other woman pauses.

Brynn sighs. “We started noticing… oddities. After someone completed their component, they would just… disappear. There were never any bodies, they were just gone. There was always some sort of cover-up—that the person in question had been moved to a new division, or that they’d finished their contract with Cerberus and had moved on. But it didn’t add up, and as time went on, we started feeling like we were signing each other’s death warrants.”

“The Illusive Man is relentless,” Shepard says with a grimace. “Running while you still could was smart. But you had to have known he’d follow you. What was the plan?”

“We covered our bases as well as we could,” Brynn says. “But it’s like you said—the Illusive Man is relentless. Somehow, he found us anyways.”

As if on cue, a loud boom sounds and the ceiling shakes in response. Shepard is familiar enough with aerial bombardment to recognize it for what it is. “Time to evacuate. What are the base defenses like? How long will they hold?”

“Long enough,” Jacob says as he finishes patching himself up. “But we need to get the AA guns on the roof back online. We’ll never be able to make it out without the cover they provide, but Cerberus is jamming them.”

Shepard nods. “I’ll see what I can do to help.”

Brynn places a hand on Jacob’s arm, and the tenderness of the gesture isn’t lost on Shepard. Her own relationship with Jacob had been little more than friends with benefits, but she’s so lonely and she swallows down an unexpected lump in her throat anyways.

“I should check in on my people,” Brynn says. “Commander, meet me upstairs when you can?”

Shepard nods. “Will do.”

Once Brynn is gone, a slow smile spreads across Jacob’s face, as if he’s just now processing all that happened. “It’s good to see you again, Shepard. You look… well. And Garrus, I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Good to see you too, Jacob. Staying out of trouble, I see,” Garrus says, his tone friendly, if guarded—he knows enough about what happened with Jacob, both the relationship and the fallout, and the silent support of one of her closest friends means more to Shepard than she can express.

Jacob laughs, then glances over at Kaidan and extends a hand. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jacob Taylor, I worked with Shepard to take down the Collectors.”

“So I’ve heard,” Kaidan says, his voice icy. He crosses his arms, ignoring Jacob’s outstretched hand. “Kaidan Alenko, Alliance Navy.”

Jacob’s eyebrows raise in recognition of the name, because he knows. Shepard had been honest with Jacob from the start—about Kaidan and their relationship and what she was looking for in a new relationship.

Initially, she hadn’t planned on starting anything new. After Horizon, when it became clear that what she’d had with Kaidan was well and truly over, she was too busy nursing her broken heart to even contemplate forming a romantic connection with someone. But Jacob had been… unexpected.

She had Garrus and Tali, people who had known her in the before times, people who kept her grounded and had been with her from her humble beginnings. But as dear friends as they were to her, there were things they couldn’t understand. Jacob was former Alliance, like she was. He was an idealist, tempered by the harsh realities of the world they lived in. Just like she was.

They’d grown closer, talking about their shared experiences in the Alliance, and their own misgivings with Alliance command—and how good that had felt. From the moment Shepard had signed up, on the day of her 18^th birthday, she’d given everything she had to the Alliance. She’d been little more than a fresh-faced recruit when her desperation to prove herself in the Skyllian Blitz landed her the title of hero and from there, she’d dived headfirst into the N7 program.

She’d given her whole life to the Alliance, never looking back, and she’d never stopped to consider the flaws. Not until she’d discovered the Reaper threat and worked to convince the Alliance and the Council, and they had downplayed her concerns. Not until she came back from the dead and learned they’d covered up the truth of the attack on the Citadel, even after they’d come face to face with an actual Reaper.

Jacob had been someone she could vent to—someone who understood what it was like to give yourself to the Alliance, someone who understood how sometimes you could do everything right and still receive nothing in return. He’d listened to her misgivings about Cerberus and her distrust of the Illusive Man, and he hadn’t tried to reassure her that everything was fine. He hadn’t downplayed her concerns.

Their friendship had been built on mutual understanding and shared experiences. They’d bonded over the unique experience of being a human biotic and all the nuances that came with it—the struggles to contain such raw power and the discrimination, but also the satisfaction that came from knowing your body itself was a weapon.

They’d swapped Alliance war stories, they’d debated the merits and downfalls of the Systems Alliance, the Council and Cerberus. And as their mission to take down the Collectors grew more and more dangerous, as it looked increasingly likely that going through the Omega-4 relay would be a one-way trip, they’d grown closer still. Over drinks in the lounge one night, their friendship had started to blossom into something more, the sparks between them no longer possible to ignore.

But Jacob was her friend and confidant first and foremost, and the last thing she’d wanted to do was inadvertently lead him on. So, she told him about Kaidan, about her lingering feelings for him, the bitter breakup on Horizon and her still-tender heart. And months later, sitting next to a hospital bed in Huerta Memorial, she’d told Kaidan the barest details of her relationship with Kaidan, just to confirm what he’d already heard.

And now here they are, the two men staring each other down, Shepard caught between them. All three are too professional to say anything, but Kaidan’s crossed arms and Jacob’s knowing smirk is enough to make the situation plenty awkward. Her relationship with both men is too fragile, and the tension is enough to give her a headache.

Shepard clears her throat to break the silence. “I should check in with Dr. Cole, see what I can do to help.” There’s more she wants to talk to Jacob about, questions she wants to ask him, but not now. Not here, in front of Kaidan.

Jacob’s jaw tenses, as if he knows what she wants to ask him. Or maybe she’s just projecting—why should she occupy his mind the way he did hers for the six months she was under house arrest? His complete lack of communication since they destroyed the Collector Base and she turned herself in to the Alliance made it fairly clear that he didn’t think of her.

“You go do that,” he says. “I need to start rallying the people, but… maybe we can catch up later?”

Shepard nods. “Take care, Jacob.”

As she, Kaidan and Garrus make their way towards the upper level to meet with Brynn, another bombardment hits, shaking the whole building.

“Damn the Illusive Man,” Garrus says. “I never trusted Cerberus from the start. After what they did to Admiral Kahoku? No way. So why is it that every time we encounter them, they somehow manage to be worse than before? I didn’t think they could sink any further.”

“I have a feeling it’s going to get worse still before it’s over,” Shepard says. The nervous energy that fills the air is palpable—there’s murmured words of fear and comfort as loved ones huddle together and the distant chatter of the people in charge discussing the evacuation plan.

Brynn is easy to find, her crisp voice carrying as she gives order. “Make sure the samples from Project Mia get onto the second shuttle.”

“I—I’ll try,” the man she’s talking to says, his voice quivering. “I keep dropping the crates. I can’t stop my hands from shaking.”

Brynn places a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get out of here alive. I promise. I won’t let you down.”

The man nods and turns to leave, just as Shepard approaches. “Have you had any luck in getting the AA guns back online?”

Brynn shakes her head as she walks off, Shepard following. “Not yet. But I have my best people on it. We’ll get it sorted out—we have to. We’ll all be slaughtered before we can get up into the air if we don’t.”

“How many people do you have here?” Shepard asks.

“Forty-three,” Brynn replies. “Including research assistants and… families.”

At that, Shepard does a double take. “Families? Do you mean there are children here?”

Her gut clenches. A burned-out husk of a building. A child she may or may not have imagined. The same child, unmistakably real, getting onto a shuttle. The red laser of a Reaper beam, cutting the shuttle in half, the stench of smoke and death heavy in the air.

“When we fled, we took everyone,” Brynn says, pulling Shepard out of the flashback. “Yes, it’s a dangerous choice, bringing children, but it would be more dangerous to leave them behind. The Illusive Man isn’t above targeting families. I promised these people a new life, a life free from Cerberus, but I never imagined it would come to this.”

She pauses and glances over at Shepard with a rueful smile. “Do you have any idea how stressful it is, being solely responsible for over forty people, including children?”

Shepard’s own lips twist into a slightly bitter smile. What she wouldn’t give to be responsible for only forty people. “I’m responsible for the entire galaxy.”

Brynn huffs out a small laugh. “I suppose that’s true; I should remember who I’m talking to.”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help,” Shepard promises. “No more deaths. Everyone here gets out alive. But we’ll have to plan this evacuation very carefully if we want it to succeed—Cerberus easily has us outgunned.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Brynn says. “I’m not sure we would have been able to make it out alive without your help. Jacob talks about you frequently, and it’s nice to finally meet the legend.”

Legend. That’s what Kaidan had called her, too, back on Horizon. She was a hero, a legend, a savior. An icon that everyone in the galaxy looked up to. And the pressure of it all was overwhelming. As long as Commander Shepard was there to save the day, who cared about the personal cost for Lily? Who cared if she was so lonely she physically ached at the sight of Jacob’s tenderness with Brynn?

But the last person she wants to confide in is Brynn, so she just smiles. It’s a tired, weary expression, but there’s a thousand reasons why Commander Shepard would be tired.

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Before either woman can say anything else, Jacob comes up the stairs, still limping from his injury, and they both turn to look at him.

“Any news on the AA guns?” Shepard asks, but Jacob shakes his head.

“Whatever it is that’s jamming them, I can’t fix it from here,” he says. “I’m going up to the roof to fix it. Cerberus landed a shuttle there a few minutes ago. Want to go kick some ass like old times?”

“Jacob, you’re still injured,” Shepard says with a frown. “Kaidan, Garrus, and I can fix the guns. You should rest.”

“No way I’m letting you go alone,” Jacob says. “These are my people and I’m not abandoning them.”

Not like you abandoned me, you mean? Shepard bites back the snarky response that rises to the surface and sighs, placing a hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “You won’t be doing them any favors by getting yourself killed, and you’ll just slow me down if I have to worry about keeping you safe in the middle of a firefight.”

“She’s right,” Brynn says. “You’ve done so much for us already, Jacob, and I need you here. We need you here.”

Jacob bows his head, giving in. “Fine. But I’ll walk you through it. Cerberus is probably jamming the signals, so radio me when you’re in position and I’ll give you the override code.”

“Will do,” Shepard promises, and then she turns to her squad. “Alright, guys. Let’s make Cerberus regret ever coming here to hound these scientists.”

The fight on the rooftop is intense—Cerberus shuttles keep on dropping off more soldiers, and Shepard gets more and more angry with each assault trooper that she takes down. She’s angry that the Illusive Man is targeting civilians, targeting families and children, but she’s also angry at how many lives he’s willing to throw away.

The image of the assault trooper on Mars, the one that almost looked like a husk, still haunts her. How many of the soldiers she’s fighting are like that underneath their helmets? How many have had their free will taken away from them, forced to be cannon fodder in the Illusive Man’s war?

Luckily for her, anger fuels her biotics and just makes them stronger. And Kaidan and Garrus are no slackers, either, so before too long they’ve wiped out the relentless waves of Cerberus troops and gotten the AA guns back online.

“Thank you, Commander,” Brynn says the moment Shepard, Garrus and Kaidan are back inside. “The guns are already starting to pick Cerberus ships out of the sky.”

“Good.” Shepard breathes a small sigh of relief. “How are things here?”

“We’re on track,” Jacob says. “The first shuttle is being loaded with anyone under sixteen.”

“We only have one chance to do this,” Brynn says. “We can’t afford to get it wrong. There are still ships in the sky that could take us down, but I don’t want to wait too long. Do you think more Cerberus troops will come?”

“Knowing the Illusive Man? Most likely,” Shepard admits. “But we can’t afford to leave behind anything that might strengthen his cause, either. Do a last sweep of the complex, make sure all sensitive data is either being taken with you or destroyed. And then get everyone ready to leave.”

Brynn nods. “Good idea. Thank you again, Commander. For everything.”

“Of course,” Shepard says. “Do you need any help getting ready to leave?”

“You’ve done so much already, but getting everything onto the shuttles would be faster with an extra set of hands,” Brynn says.

“I can help with that,” Kaidan offers. “I can do some heavy lifting. Just tell me what goes where.”

“Perfect, thank you,” Brynn says. “I’ll show you.”

She and Kaidan walk off, leaving Shepard, Garrus and Jacob, and an uncomfortable silence. Now that some of the immediate urgency has passed, all the things left unsaid between Shepard and Jacob hangs there, the tension building in the silence.

Garrus clears his throat. “I’ll, uh… go help with the sweep of the compound.”

Even after Garrus is gone, when it’s just her and Jacob, Shepard shifts from foot to foot awkwardly, unsure how to broach the subject with Jacob. Unsure how to start the conversation that they need to have.

“Jacob, I—”

“Shepard—”

They both start speaking at the same time and Shepard laughs slightly. “Sorry. You go ahead.”

Jacob pauses slightly, then jerks his head. “Come on. Let’s head somewhere a little less hectic.”

He leads her off into one of the side rooms. Inside, with the door shut, they can still hear the sounds of everyone getting ready to leave, of the aerial bombardment that has lessened considerably, but hasn’t quite stopped fully. But the noise is muted and easy enough to tune out. It’s just her and Jacob, and the knowledge of that makes her heart beat faster for more than one reason.

“So… how have you been, Jacob?” Shepard asks to break the ice when the silence starts to become unbearable.

Jacob exhales slowly. “I’ve been alright. This is crazy, seeing you here. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Not like I was dead, she thinks. But admittedly, she wasn’t sure she’d ever see Jacob again, either. And regardless, this conversation has no hope of going well if she can’t keep her emotions in check.

“I know the feeling,” she says. “With this war, nothing is certain. Hard to tell if any of us will live to see tomorrow. But tell me—how did you end up tangled in all this?”

“It’s complicated,” Jacob said. “But Brynn came to me with her concerns, and… I couldn’t turn away. These are good people, Shepard. They don’t deserve what the Illusive Man has done to them. But they’re just civilians, they don’t have any military training. Defending them, defending their ideals… it feels good. I think I’ve found my place.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Shepard says. “I’ve thought about you a lot, over these past six months. It’s nice to see that you’re doing well. Did you join up with these people right after we got back?”

Jacob shakes his head. “Nah, Brynn only reached out to me a few weeks ago. After we got back… well, things look a little different when you come back from a suicide mission alive. You helped me see just how dangerous the Illusive Man was, so I quit Cerberus.”

He shrugs slightly. “I quit everything, but I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I went to the Mediterranean. Sat by the sea for a while, just… thinking. About my life choices, what had led me to that point, and what I wanted to do next. That’s when I lost track of you.”

This time, Shepard can’t hold back her irritation. “Lost track? Jacob, you knew exactly where I was. You knew I was going to turn myself into the Alliance, to face the consequences for destroying the Alpha relay. Why didn’t you ever reach out?”

“Come on, Shepard,” Jacob says. “You were locked down tight. I knew the Alliance would be screening your messages, so I just figured…”

“What?” Shepard prompts him when he trails off. “You figured you wouldn’t even bother to try? Yes, my messages were carefully screened, but plenty of other people managed to get through to me. I’m not saying I expected lengthy, regular communication, but you couldn’t have sent something? Let me know what you were up to? Checked to see if I was okay?”

“Time kind of got away from me, I guess,” Jacob says. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I was Alliance, then I was Cerberus, then I was nothing. I’m not like you, I’ve never had that clear vision of who I am and what I want to do. I had to take some time to do some soul searching, to figure it out.”

“By sitting on a beach,” Shepard says, her tone dry. “You were my friend, Jacob. You were more than that. And when I first saw you here, I thought, okay, maybe this is why he never messaged me. He’s been busy, he’s been doing important work. There’s a war on and I can’t expect personal feelings to trump that. But it turns out you just sat on a fucking beach for six months.”

“Shepard…” Jacob says. He sighs. “I never wanted to hurt you. But I had to do what I thought was best for me.”

Shepard rubs her temples, trying to ward off the anger-induced headache that she feels forming. “Did you at least figure things out, while you soaked up the sun and fresh air?”

“I did,” Jacob says. “I realized that I’m done fighting for other people’s causes. Whatever I choose to fight for, it has to mean something to me. I realized that I want to be a better man. That I want something stable, something solid. A real life, not just a life spent running from one fight to another. I want a family.”

Shepard swallows down all the emotions that threaten to pour out. If only she had that kind of luxury. A life that’s not spent running between fights? A family? A home to call her own? She’s never known any of that, and the lack of it has just made her crave it all the more strongly.

“I can understand that,” she says, her voice coming out in a whisper. “I want that, too.”

Jacob scoffs. “Come on, Shepard. I think we both know your real love is the Normandy. It never would have worked out between us.”

“Don’t pretend you know me better than I know myself,” Shepard snaps, a muscle in her jaw twitching in irritation. “You think that just because I’ve poured myself into this war means I don’t want anything else?”

“I didn’t mean that,” Jacob says. “But come on, you can’t say that you don’t love it all—the fighting, the being a big hero. The Normandy is your ship, your baby. And she’s a warship. Can you really imagine yourself settling down into the quiet life? Giving all that up?”

What bothers her the most is that intentional or not, Jacob is giving voice to her deepest fears. She’s spent her whole life running to the next fight, always looking ahead to the next battle that has to be won. Never looking back, never letting herself slow down. She wants to make it through this war in one piece, wants to find out what it’s like to be at peace for once in her goddamn life, but what if she doesn’t know how to settle down? What if the only thing she’s good at is war?

“I fight so we all have the chance to settle down someday,” she says. “The Normandy and her crew are dear to me, yes, but I long for the day when I can stop fighting. If you think I don’t want to find that peace, when I’ve been fighting my entire life, then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

There’s an awkward silence as Jacob at least has the decency to look chagrined. Shepard doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t want yet another battle to wear her down, but damn if she’ll just sit back and say nothing, as if Jacob Taylor didn’t ghost her when she needed him the most. And even though she knows, from seeing how Brynn looks at Jacob and how tender he is with her, even though she knows she has no claim to his heart and never did, she has to ask.

“So… you and Brynn?” It’s barely even a question, and Jacob ducks his head to avoid looking her in the eyes.

“We’re… she… I… yeah,” he says. “Me and Brynn.”

“I figured as much.” She crosses her arms, tries to pretend it doesn’t sting.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “But how long was I supposed to wait for you, Shepard? I treasure what we had, but there was no future for us. I was always second fiddle—worse than that, I was third choice, after the Normandy and the illustrious Major Alenko.” His tone is bitter as he mentions Kaidan and Shepard has to bite down on her anger and her frustration over how incredibly dense he’s being.

“You think that’s what I’m upset about?” Shepard asks, shaking her head. “I thought we were on the same page, Jacob. I made my feelings for Kaidan explicitly clear to you. I never promised you anything, I never pretended that I was fully emotionally available. I tried to move on, I wanted to move on with you, but I never once hid from you the fact that I wasn’t over him. So don’t you dare try to pin the blame for this on me.”

“What the hell do you want me to say, then?” Jacob asks, his voice rising. “That I loved you, that maybe part of me still does? That I wanted more than you were willing to offer, and it was slowly killing me? You’re a hell of a woman, Shepard, and I would have loved to make a future with you, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen when you couldn’t move on from him. What more do you want from me?”

“I want you to communicate!” Shepard yells. “That is it, Jacob. That is all I am asking of you. You were my friend above all else, you were someone I trusted. You were the one stable element in my life in a time when I desperately needed it. What we had may have been casual, but it still meant something to me, and I deserved better than to be ghosted—especially when you knew about Kaidan and how much I still hurt from that.”

She has to pause to catch her breath, to try to keep the tears from falling. She won’t cry, she can’t. Not here, not in front of Jacob. “I was locked up in an apartment in Alliance headquarters for six months, completely isolated. You accuse me of not being able to stop fighting, but during those six months, I wasn’t. I was relieved of duty, facing charges of war crimes, and I didn’t know if I would ever see the light of day again. I didn’t know if I would have to watch the inevitable Reaper invasion, watch the end of the galaxy as we know it, from the confines of my apartment. Do you have any idea how lonely I was? How much I could have used a friend?”

“You still had him,” Jacob grumbles, sounding like a petulant child. “I didn’t have anyone after we came back.”

“Yes, my ex-boyfriend who hated me for joining Cerberus,” she says dryly. “Who didn’t trust who or what I’d become and avoided me for the entirety of those six months. What an excellent support system. Even if he hadn’t, what was I supposed to do? We never discussed our relationship, never ended things. As casual as it was, I still cared for you, Jacob. I had real feelings for you, and I would have been willing to try and make it work between us.”

Jacob opens his mouth to say something, but she holds up a hand to cut him off. “Even if it wouldn’t have gone anywhere, the least I deserved was an explanation and a real ending. From the start, we said anything between us would just be casual, but you and I both know there were real feelings involved. I didn’t know if what we had was done, because you never ended things. I was stuck in limbo, a hell of a place to be, while you were sitting by the ocean and moving on with a new woman.”

“I didn’t intend for things to get serious with Brynn,” Jacob says after a moment, looking at his hands. “I think we both know that I cared about you more than you did about me. You never could move on from Kaidan. You were unattainable—and not just because you were locked up. And then I reconnected with Brynn, and… one thing led to another.”

“And you never once thought to message me?” Shepard asks. “It never crossed your mind that you were in a relationship with another woman, one that had been left on very ambiguous terms and never really ended? If you’d just talked to me, I wouldn’t have begrudged you moving on. I would have been happy for you, Jacob. But you chose to abandon me at the time when I needed you the most. You never stopped to consider my feelings, you just selfishly thought of your own desires, and that is what stings the most. That someone who was supposed to care about me—on any level, platonic or romantic—was so easily able to move on and never look back.”

Jacob hangs his head and doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “I’m sorry.”

Shepard exhales a puff of laughter, the anger slowly fading into bitterness. “Yeah. You’re sorry. I just wish you’d thought of that before you ghosted me for six months. Right before I turned myself in to the Alliance, you kissed me, wished me luck with the trial and told me you’d see me on the other side. Did you forget about all that?”

“I messed up, okay?” Jacob says. “I get it. And I’m sorry for hurting you, but can’t we just move past that? What more do you want from me, Shepard?”

“Fine. Forget it,” she says. She’s still hurt by the fact that she seemingly meant so little to him, even when she tried so hard to be what he needed, but the conversation—argument, really—is going nowhere.

Still, it stings that he accuses her of still being in love with Kaidan when he’s the one who moved on. From the start, they’d agreed to keep their relationship casual, as neither wanted anything serious. But as time went on, it became clear that Jacob wanted more than Shepard could give. She’d tried to put Kaidan behind her, to open herself up to the possibility of a real relationship with Jacob. She’d wanted to love him, she’d tried to love him, the way he loved her. But as much as she genuinely cared for him, she couldn’t force herself to fall in love with him.

Maybe it was unfair for her to have expected him to wait around until some ambiguous time in the future when she was over Kaidan and could give all of herself to Jacob. But was it so unfair to have expected a definite end to what they had? To have expected some kind of communication over their six-month separation, or to get angry at him for abandoning her?

Sighing, Shepard smooths her hands over head, brushing back any stray hairs that have escaped her bun. “Look, Jacob… regardless of our personal history, you’re still a hell of a soldier. We could really use you in this war, back on the Normandy.”

“I… can’t,” Jacob says. “Shepard, you should know… Brynn and I… we’re having a baby. I’m going to be a father.”

Shepard reels back. A baby? In all of six months, he’d managed to not just move on, but start a family? All while she’d been working her ass off trying to convince the Council and Alliance command to do something about the war. She can’t fathom bringing life into this world right now, not when they’re facing the very real threat of extinction.

Even so, her heart clenches in jealousy—a home, a family, a child that is hers to nourish and love. The chance to bring something good into this world for once. A chance to provide that unconditional love she never got to experience. She can’t pretend it’s not something she desperately craves.

“Wow,” she says, her voice barely even a whisper. “Hell of a time to bring new life into this world, Jacob.”

“The timing wasn’t intentional,” he admits. “But I’m going to do everything I can to be a better father than my own. And to be a good partner to Brynn. I’ll help out in any way I can, but I can’t serve onboard the Normandy again. I can’t leave Brynn.”

Before Shepard can answer, the door opens. Kaidan is standing there, his expression neutral. Jacob doesn’t quite have the same composure, and he scowls as he crosses his arms. As if he has any right to be jealous of her feelings for Kaidan.

“The shuttles are loaded and ready to go,” Kaidan says. “We’re ready to evacuate.”

“Good.” Shepard pulls out her gun, checking the thermal clips before popping the heat sink. She doesn’t imagine Cerberus is going to make this easy. “Let’s get these people out of here.”

Chapter Text

Kaidan is sulking in the lounge, drinking a watered-down whiskey and wishing he had something stronger as his mind plays over the events of the last mission. They’d barely gotten the ex-Cerberus refugees out of there alive—the AA guns that he, Shepard and Garrus had brought back online had kept the situation from being impossible, but it had still been a close call. Cerberus had ambushed them as they tried to leave, and Shepard had barely kept them at bay while Garrus and Kaidan helped the civilians into the shuttles.

At one particularly harrowing moment, Shepard had stumbled, and Kaidan had feared she’d been seriously injured. He’d wanted nothing more than to run over to her, to verify with his own eyes and hands that she was okay, but he was too far. In the end, Jacob Taylor had been the one to pull her out of the line of fire. Shepard had been fine—though Garrus and Kaidan insisted she check in with Dr. Chakwas anyways—but even now, he hates how he hadn’t been the one to pull her to safety. Doubly so because Jacob was the one to pull her into the shuttle.

Kaidan’s scowl deepens as he glares into the bottom of his whiskey. So, that was Jacob Taylor. He’s handsome, Kaidan’s not too proud to admit that. And he seemed charming enough. Kaidan supposes he can see the appeal in a man like Jacob Taylor. And he supposes that maybe it’s reassuring that the man Shepard left him for is handsome and suave and charming, because then it’s easier to rationalize why she gave up on him so easily.

And he knows that last part isn’t fair; he knows that she was dead and gone for two years, that their relationship effectively ended when she went down with the Normandy. And if it hadn't, his words to her on Horizon and his refusal to join her cause just further cemented their lack of relationship. But damn if he isn’t in the mood to sulk and feel sorry for himself, so he can’t help but feel a bit petulant when he thinks of Jacob Taylor with his stupid smile and his stupid good looks that wooed Lily away from him.

He's mid-sulk when the doors to the lounge open and Shepard walks in. She’s changed out of her armor and into cargo pants and a tank top emblazoned with the N7 logo. With her arms bare, he can see the bandages wound around her left shoulder and upper arm.

“Hey there,” she says, offering him a slight smile as she pours herself a drink. “Mind if I join?”

“Feel free,” he says, scooting over to make room for her at the bar. “How’s the arm?”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s fine, but Dr. Chakwas insisted on bandaging it up anyways. They punched through my shields, but my armor did its job, which means I have a nasty bruise and a minor contact burn, but nothing worse than that.”

“I’m glad,” he says, swallowing down a gulp of alcohol as he tears his eyes away from her. Away from the delicate curve of her collarbone, the soft skin of her neck and the one little mole right in the crook of it that he longs to press his lips against. He needs to get himself under control. They're tentatively friends now, and the chemistry between them is impossible to ignore or deny, but that doesn't mean either is ready to jump back into a relationship again. There's still distance between them, a chasm of hurtful words and things left unsaid, and he isn't quite sure how to begin to cross it.

He hates how on edge he feels around her, hates how he doesn't know what to say. Once, he’d felt entirely himself around her. He’d been guarded at first, of course—she was his commanding officer, the mission was too high stakes to afford distraction, there were a million reasons for him to be cautious—but the more they talked, the closer they grew, the more he opened up. He’d told her about BAaT, about Rahna and Vyrnnus, about all his hopes, dreams and fears. He told her things he’d never told anyone else, and she'd done the same.

And then she died. And when she came back, it should have been a relief, a joy, it should have been the answers to all his prayers. He should have fallen to his knees in front of her, should have told her how not a single day, not a single hour went by where he didn’t think of her. That he couldn’t think straight without her, couldn't breathe without her. He should have told her that he spent sleepless night awake hating himself for leaving her on the Normandy, orders be damned. He should have said screw the Alliance, should have told her that his place was by her side, that his place would always be there, and he’d gladly follow her into the depths of hell.

But he hadn’t. He’d fucked it all up, and she’d found refuge in the arms of Jacob fucking Taylor and he has no one to blame but himself. Just like he has no one to blame but himself for how he continued to push her away on Mars. And even after they started to reconcile in the hospital, as he recovered from nearly being crushed by Dr. Eva Coré, he still believed Udina when he said Shepard was a Cerberus traitor. Damn the evidence Udina provided, he should have trusted Shepard. He knows he's made mistakes, but meeting Jacob Taylor made him realize just how badly he’d fucked up.

Because back when he asked Shepard about it, she might have claimed that it was just casual, but Kaidan saw the way she looked at Jacob down there. He watched her as she watched him; he saw the bittersweet longing in her eyes, the hard set of her jaw, the way she pulled back and shut down when it became clear that Jacob and Brynn were involved.

You don’t look at a casual fling like that. And he knows, just as sure as he knows he loves her, that Shepard cared for Jacob, and maybe still does. He just isn’t sure if she’s fooling him or herself.

“Kaidan?” Shepard’s voice brings him back to the present, and he swallows the watery whiskey that’s turned sour in his mouth. He loves her. He has always loved her and will always love her, but he can’t keep doing this. He can’t keep dancing around the topic, can’t keep wondering where they stand and what role Jacob played in her life. Or what role he might continue to play. Especially not after meeting the man. He needs to know.

“Sorry,” Kaidan says, clearing his throat. “I just… got a bit lost in thought. I was thinking about the mission. About those Cerberus refugees.”

Beside him, Shepard stiffens as if she knows what he’s thinking. “I see,” she says, her voice steady and even. “About anything in particular?”

“I…” Kaidan trails off. How does he even begin to broach the subject? The last thing he wants is to hurt her—he’s done plenty of that already. If she doesn’t trust him anymore, if she wants nothing more than a cordial working relationship, he swears he will back off and never broach the subject again. But damn if he’ll sit here and let the unanswered question plague him.

“Jacob Taylor seems like a nice guy,” he says after a moment, taking another sip of his drink. “I guess it was nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Shepard just looks at him for a moment, her blue eyes unreadable. After a silence long enough that Kaidan starts to wonder if he should say something else, she sighs and puts down her glass. “If you have something you want to talk about, just spit it out, Kaidan. I don’t have time for mind games.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Kaidan says. “But I know you two have a… history together. And I guess I’m just not sure if that’s all that it is.”

“Jacob is with Dr. Cole,” Shepard says, her voice crisp. “And as I told you before, what Jacob and I had was purely casual. And as I also told you before, whatever relationships I may or may not have had while I worked to take down the Collectors are none of your business.”

“It is if it affects us now,” Kaidan argues. “Shit, Lily, I don’t even know if there is an ‘us’ anymore. And I know I’m to blame for that. After I heard about you and him, sure, I was upset. And when you confirmed the relationship, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous, but I understood that it didn’t mean anything. It was just casual. But then I saw how you looked at him.”

“Oh?” Shepard arches an eyebrow, her blue eyes a cold fire that sends a chill down his spine. “Since you seem to have it all figured out, tell me. How exactly did I look at Jacob?”

“I… well, it sure as hell didn’t look ‘casual,'” Kaidan says, stumbling slightly over his words. He can’t help but feel like he’s walking into a trap, but he can’t just drop he subject. Maybe this war will kill them both; maybe the Reapers will win and humanity will be wiped out and it will all be pointless, but on the off chance they survive, he needs to know.

“I guess… I guess I just need to know,” he says, looking down at his hands. “Please. Just tell me. Did you love him? Do you love him? He’s a good-looking guy, I’m not too proud to admit that. And he seems steady. Reliable. I can understand why you cheated, but I still love you and I need to know where we stand.”

The moment the words are out of his mouth, he regrets them. Even before Shepard reels back, her jaw clenching and her nostrils flaring as she fights to keep her emotions in check, he knows he shouldn’t have said that. “Wait, Lily—”

“Excuse me?” she says, her voice a cold crack of anger.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry,” he says, tripping over his words in his haste to remove the foot he just planted firmly in his mouth. “I just meant… I never gave up on you, on us, and—”

“Oh, so now I’m the one who gave up on us?” she says, and he winces at the fury in her voice. All he wanted was to have a heart-to-heart, to know where they stood and if Jacob was still a factor, but he just keeps digging himself a deeper grave every time he opens his stupid mouth.

“That’s not—”

“It was two years for you,” she says, her eyes boring holes into his guilty soul as she stares him down. “By the time you saw me on Horizon, you’d had time to process. But for me, it was mere moments. I died, and then the next thing I knew, two years had passed, and everyone had moved on. Do you know what the very first thing I did was, after safely getting off the Cerberus station where I’d spent two years on a lab table? I asked about you. I asked the Illusive Man, I asked Anderson, I asked anyone I could. And everyone told me the same thing. You were on a classified mission, something I couldn’t be told about.”

Kaidan slouches into his chair, wishing he could escape from the heavy weight of her gaze—because it’s one thing to bear her fury, but to witness her heartbreak and know he’s the cause of it eats away at him.

“And then I saw you on Horizon,” she says, her voice cracking. “And you made it quite clear that you didn’t trust me. Do you know what that was like for me? From my perspective, I told you that I loved you and ordered you to safety as the Normandy went down. And only a few short weeks later, I’m face to face with you and you’re telling me you don’t know who I am anymore. You got angry at me for your own heartbreak, but I can't help the fact that I fucking died, Kaidan. Still, I offered you the chance to join me, but you were the one to walk away, so don’t you dare accuse me of giving up.”

Kaidan doesn’t even say anything, unsure what he can say—‘sorry’ seems so hollow, not enough to make up for all he's said and done. From the moment he saw her on Horizon, he's found excuse after excuse to keep her at arm's length. The two years without her were hell, a hell that nearly destroyed him. And when he saw her again, he was angry at her for leaving him alone for those two years, but what choice had she had when she wasn't even conscious? He's been so wrapped up in his own pain that he hasn't stopped to think what it might have been like for her—to die and come back and try to reach out to him but be pushed away at every turn.

He's a fucking idiot.

Shepard just shakes her head as she stands up. “And if you want to talk about cheating, then let’s talk about how while I was under house arrest for making the hard choices that this job requires, Jacob was sitting on a beach and moving on. I was dead and gone for two years before you told me you would never leave the Alliance and walked away from me on Horizon. Jacob didn’t even have the decency to tell me anything before he moved on with Brynn, but you want to accuse me of cheating?”

“I didn’t—I only—” Kaidan breaks off with a frustrated noise. How can he explain himself without being an idiot and hurting her further? All he wanted was to know if those feelings he clearly saw between Shepard and Jacob were a thing of the past, or if she still harbored affection for him. He just wanted to know if he was too late, if he'd fucked up beyond repair. And he’d let him damn jealousy get the better of him. If he hadn't already fucked up beyond repair, there's a solid chance that this is the final nail in the coffin, and it kills him.

“I know you’re not an idiot, Kaidan,” she snaps. “But next time you want to accuse me of something, maybe use your brain before you speak. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a geth dreadnought to take down.”

Shepard walks out of the room, not looking back as she opens the door and steps through. She doesn’t even look back as she pauses in the middle of the door frame, hesitating halfway in and halfway out of the room.

“You asked me if I loved Jacob,” she says, her voice quiet. With her back still turned to him, Kaidan has to strain to hear her. “You want to know why it was so easy for Jacob to walk away from me? Ask him if I loved him. Ask him why I was never emotionally available enough for him, why I couldn’t be what he wanted.”

She turns, just enough to look at him, and Kaidan’s heart stutters at the heartbroken look in her eyes. “After all that’s happened between us on Mars, in the hospital, during the Citadel coup, you still ask me if I love him. What do you think, Kaidan?”

With that, she leaves, the door closing shut with a soft hiss behind her, and Kaidan is left alone with a dagger in his heart and the knowledge that he fully deserves it. Less than an hour later, when Shepard rallies a team to infiltrate the geth dreadnought, he isn’t surprised that he’s left behind.

After Shepard, Tali and Garrus return from disabling the geth dreadnought and debrief the rest of the crew, Shepard immediately excuses herself to her cabin. Disabling the Reaper signal has bought the quarians more time, but she knows the conflict is far from over—and it just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

And then there’s Kaidan. As if navigating the situation between the quarians and the geth wasn’t enough. Groaning, she buries her head in her hands. She’d barely had time to process seeing Jacob again, and all the things they’d said, before Kaidan sprung the accusation of being unfaithful on her. Much as he’d tried to backtrack, the damage had been done, and now she isn’t sure where that leaves them. Or even where she wants it to leave them.

She’d died, and when she came back, she’d found out that she’d lost Kaidan. The fact that he can’t realize that—that he was the one to walk away, not her—stings. But what stings even more is the feeling of damned if she does, damned if she doesn’t.

Kaidan couldn’t trust her when she came back from the dead, so she sought comfort in the arms of Jacob, but she hadn’t been enough for him, either. She hadn’t been able to let go of her feelings for Kaidan, hadn’t been able to fall in love with Jacob, so he’d moved on from her. And now she isn’t enough for Kaidan, either, because she’d tried and failed to move on with Jacob.

If only you knew, she thinks. If only Kaidan knew how she’d kept a photo of him on her desk, as a reminder of what she was fighting for. If only he knew how after Horizon, she’d reluctantly put it away as she mourned the death of their relationship. If only he knew about Alchera, and how the entire time she was on that terrible planet, she couldn’t stop thinking about how he should be there, too. Because Joker and Garrus had been on the original Normandy, too, and they had an idea of how hard it was for Shepard, but they weren’t him.

They didn’t know how close she came to falling apart completely, past the point of no return, because how do you come back from the knowledge that you'd died? They didn't know how in the early days, she'd stay awake for days at a time because she was terrified that if she slept, she'd find out this was all a dream and she was still dead. That she would only sleep when utter exhaustion claimed her and she couln't stay awake any longer. They didn’t know how she embraced the idea of the suicide mission, because she was so damn tired of it all, of saving the galaxy, of having all that pressure on her shoulders. How at times she got reckless, because she'd already died once and mortality suddenly seemed irrelevent, so what was the fucking point.

No one knew how secretly, deep down, she thought that maybe it was for the best that their trip through the Omega-4 relay was likely to be one-way. Even when she tried to embrace a relationship with Jacob, she hadn’t told him about the fear she had that she was a hollowed-out shell of a woman, because all she did was give and give and give and it never ended. She hadn’t told anyone about the thoughts that kept her up at night—the thoughts that since she’d already died once for the cause, why not do it again. Maybe it was for the better, if it meant she could finally be at peace.

Even when she was with Jacob, she found herself thinking of Kaidan, thinking of what she would say to him if he were there. He was the only person she'd ever felt comfortable revealing her deepest fears to, and without him, she bottled it all up inside. It was the way she held back that frustrated Jacob the most, because he knew parts of her remained closed off to him. And she’d tried, she’d wanted to, wanted to find it as easy to talk to him as it had been to talk to Kaidan, back when they were just chasing down a rogue Spectre. But no matter how much she tried, she hadn’t been able to do it.

And as angry as she was—and still is—at Jacob for moving on with Brynn so easily, for abandoning her without so much as a goodbye, she can’t fully fault him for it. Not when she knows how she always kept him at arm's length or how emotionally unavailable she was because she couldn’t let go of Kaidan. All the bitter things he accused her of—of Kaidan always taking priority, of her not caring as much about him as he did her, of her inability to truly commit to him—were fair accusations. It doesn’t take away the sting, but she can’t fully deny them, which means she can’t fully blame him, either.

But she can blame Kaidan for his petty jealousy and anger. She’d expected him to have questions about Jacob when they came face to face, and while her previous love life was none of his business, she’d been prepared to address his concerns. She’d been prepared to tell him that he wasn’t there for her, but Jacob was. And that he had been what she needed, when she needed it, but even then she hadn’t been able to move on from Kaidan.

What she hadn’t expected was for him to accuse her of cheating, when they both know damn well that he was the one who refused to join her on the mission to stop the Collectors. And now she doesn’t know how she’s supposed to feel. It seems that every time she and Kaidan start to reconcile, something drives them apart—he sends her a heartfelt letter after Horizon only to ignore her for six months while she’s under house arrest, and then go right back to accusing her of being Cerberus when the team up on Mars. After they start to reconnect in the hospital, Udina frames her for the Citadel coup and Kaidan believes him, nearly shooting her in the process.

After he promises he’ll never doubt her again, after he joins her team again and the old sparks start to resurface, he accuses her of fucking cheating. Damn him for being so inconsistent. She isn’t sure how much more of this her battered heart can take, isn’t sure at what point it’s better to just shut it down completely.

And damn him for springing it on her now—not that there’s any great time to be accused of infidelity, but the war between the quarians and the geth has been simmering for centuries and it’s finally reached the boiling point. And she’s caught in the middle of it all.

Once upon a time, it had been so easy to see the geth as mindless killing machines. After Eden Prime, the entire galaxy finally had common ground to stand on—hatred of the geth. Shepard herself lost track of how many geth she’d killed a long time ago. Once, ridding the galaxy of the geth for good wouldn’t have required a second thought. It wasn’t genocide, the geth weren't truly sentient. They didn't have thoughts or feelings.

But then she’d met Legion. She’d had conversations with him, she’d realized that the geth were just as capable of feeling as any other intelligent species, and they absolutely were an intelligent species. Hell, she’d started think of Legion as a him, rather than it.

And then running into Legion again onboard the geth dreadnought had only made things more complicated. Up until then, it has been easy to assume that the geth had sided with the Reapers for the same reason the ones Legion called the heretics had sided with Saren—they were machines and the Reapers seemed like Gods to them. But then Legion had revealed that the geth only turned to the Reapers after the quarians attacked.

She’d always been sympathetic to the quarians’ desire to re-take Rannoch, even though she’d counseled the Admirals not to actually do it, for fear of the cost. And now that the Reaper signal is disabled, it gives the quarians a perfect opportunity to strike, to wipe out the geth entirely. And that was undoubtedly what they were planning on doing—the agreement that the quarians would use the time to safely retreat had quickly fallen apart when Admiral Gerrell had bullied his way into an attack on the dreadnought, with Tali, Garrus and Shepard still on board.

What is she supposed to do know? She can’t abandon the quarians to extinction, but she can’t let them commit genocide against the geth, either. It’s the type of dilemma that she wishes she could talk over with someone—even if the responsibility for solving it falls on her shoulders, sometimes it helps to voice her thoughts and fears aloud. To have someone to reassure her that she can find a solution, because that’s what she always does.

But while all of her crew members have been wonderfully supportive at times, there’s only one person she finds herself wanting to talk to in times like these. Too bad he’s also the only person who is decidedly not an option right now.

Sighing, she turns her eye to the blinking light of her terminal, indicating that she has a new message. She’d checked her messages shortly after returning from the geth dreadnought, which means it’s a quite recent message. No doubt one of the quarian Admirals asking another favor of her, or perhaps Traynor passing along some interesting data she’s uncovered. But instead of any of that, as she opens her terminal, she finds a message from Kaidan.

Lily,

It feels a little weird sending you a message when we’re on the same ship, but I figured you might not want to talk to me right now, and I can’t blame you for that. I know what I said to you earlier was inexcusable, but I wanted to offer up an excuse anyway, or at least an apology.

When you died, something in me died, too. I was broken without you, an empty shell of a man. I tried to move on, but I couldn’t, not even after two years had passed. When I learned you were alive again, it felt too good to be true. I saw you go down with the Normandy, and people don’t just walk away from injuries like that. I was terrified that you weren’t real. I was terrified that if I reached out, if I let myself love you again, the illusion would shatter, and I’d be left all alone. Again.

I know I should have trusted you, and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret how I treated you. Even after Horizon. I meant every word in that letter I sent you, but I knew we’d both changed, and I was still so scared that you’d turn out to be something else. Someone else.

When I learned that you and Jacob had shared a connection, I was terrified that I’d lost you forever. That I’d pushed you into the arms of someone else and lost my chance. And it stung, knowing that you were able to move on so easily, when even after two years, I couldn’t get over you. So yeah, I got jealous. Especially after meeting Jacob, because I couldn’t fault you for finding comfort—or even love, if that’s what it was—with a man like him. He was steady and strong and reliable when I was the opposite.

I let my fears get the better of me, so I pushed you away, and when you found comfort with someone else, I let my jealousy turn ugly. But the truth is, Lily, I have always loved you. And I’m sorry that I took my fears out on you. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you, but I know I have, and I can’t apologize enough for that.

When—or maybe if, it feels presumptuous to assume you’d be willing to give me another chance—you want to talk, you know where to find me. Until then, know that I remain:

Yours,

Kaidan

Shepard reads the message twice, analyzing every single word, and then a third time, just for good measure. By the time she finishes her third reading, she’s surprised to find tears clinging to her lashes. She’s still mad at Kaidan; she can’t lie and pretend that a heartfelt letter completely erases all the hurtful accusations he’s hurled at her. On Horizon, on Mars, on the Citadel. And now she has in the lounge onboard the Normandy to add to that list. But neither can she lie and pretend that it doesn’t help soothe her hurt feelings and justifiable anger.

It's been so easy to get angry at Kaidan for not trusting her, for having doubts about who she is, and even for her relationship with Jacob. But if she puts herself in his shoes, if the situation were reversed, can she honestly say that she would be better? If Kaidan had died and she’d spent two years mourning him, trying and failing to move on, and then he showed up, working for a known terrorist organization like Cerberus, would she have immediately trusted him? If he’d formed a relationship with someone else, while she was still processing her feelings for him, would she not have gotten jealous?

His letter doesn’t erase the hurt, but trying to see it from his persepctive does help soften the blow a little bit. She’s not too proud to be the bigger person, to set aside her petty desire to hold a grudge and sit down for a proper talk with him, like the adults that they are. Still, she shelves the topic, pushing the letter to the back of her mind for now.

There will be time later to discuss the contents of the letter and all that has transpired between them over the course of the past few years. For now, she’s got a quarian Admiral to rescue and geth fighter squadrons to take down. For now, it’s time to once again don the physical and proverbial armor of Commander Shepard, to be the hero the galaxy requires her to be.