Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Beep…Beep…Beep

Miranda groaned in frustration at the incessant noise that had penetrated her peaceful slumber. She was inclined to ignore the annoying sound as she readjusted herself in her bed, turning on her back, hugging the covers to her body as she did so.

Beep…Beep…Beep

Miranda growled, but any curse that she was about to utter died on her tongue when she caught the pattern in the ring.

This was no ordinary call. This was something important.

She immediately pushed herself up, throwing the covers to her side as she blinked in the darkness of her bedroom, allowing her eyes to adjust to the absence of light. She went to her Omni-Tool, the source of the noise, and quickly typed in the access code to accept the call. As she waited for the call to be transferred through, she wiped the sleep out of her eyes.

"Miss Lawson, am I interrupting something?"

It was the voice of the Illusive Man.

"No, sir."

"Good, because I have an assignment for you-"

She could hear him exhale as he paused, knowing that he was smoking. She remained silent, waiting for him to finish.

"I've been given some unfortunate news."

"What news?"

"It's about Commander Shepard."

Another pause, there was no sound of him exhaling to allow himself a smoke. This pause was deliberate. The mention of Shepard's name felt like an injection of adrenaline into her system, she instantly awoke, a jolt of energy was thrumming through her.  

"He's dead," the Illusive Man's voice was perfectly controlled while he delivered the depressing news.

"What?" Miranda all but gasped. She was too shocked to mentally scold herself for her emotional outburst. She shook her head. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't, not Shepard.

The images of her and him together on the Citadel began floating to the forefront of her mind. His smile, his touch, his voice, while they shared intimate moments together, he stirred something within Miranda that she had never felt before for another person. She then was haunted by their last encounter, remembering his confidence in assuring her that he wouldn't allow any geth to kill him. It was now a twist of the knife already embedded into her.

"It can't be."

"This comes from top Alliance Brass, Miss Lawson," answered the Illusive Man, unphased by her disbelief. "They are trying to cover it up. Naturally, they don't want word to get out about the circumstances of his death."

"Circumstances?" she repeated.

"Yes, it seems that he was attacked by an unidentified ship. The Normandy was destroyed with were more than twenty casualties."

Miranda couldn't breathe.

She felt numb. She could feel her chest tightening, an aching pain behind her ribs. This couldn't be real. This had to be a dream. Shepard couldn't be dead. He promised that he would come back to her. The image of them sharing their last passionate moments together alone in the elevator, were now nothing short of mocking her at the fate of the man she cared for.

Damn you, John, not caring how selfish or juvenile she sounded in the solitude of her room. It was in that moment; in the dark that Miranda could feel a tear trickle down her cheek. She instantly dabbed at the tear with her thumb, not allowing herself to break down. She took a deep breath, controlling her emotions, and her breathing, before she allowed herself to speak again in her usual cool and controlled voice.

"What does this have to do with my assignment?"

"Everything, Miss Lawson," he answered. "Shepard is too important to be lost. The galaxy needs him if we are to stop the Reapers."

Miranda was unsure what her superior's thought process was leading to. He was speaking as if Shepard was injured or was being held hostage. He spoke as if there was hope in saving him. But there couldn't be. Shepard was dead.

The Illusive Man's next words broke Miranda out of her painful reverie. "His body is missing."

"You want me to retrieve his body?" she asked, feeling another stab of pain in her chest at the thought of someone stealing Shepard's body.

She wasn't naïve or a fool. She knew something like Shepard's body would be worth a fortune to some people in the galaxy. Serving as a trophy to a man's vanity, the ultimate collection piece to the wealthy elite. It was a piece of history, the body of the most important man in the last fifty years. To some he was the most important man in centuries.

It was a sick revelation, but Miranda was sure that there were many perverse people in the galaxy, and there were many who still held grudges against the Commander. The Batarian Hegemony would probably pay top dollar to be able to parade the body of the human who had defeated them on countless occasions through their streets.

"That is part of your assignment."

"Part?" Miranda was unsure how the assignment couldn't be finished after retrieving the body.

"I'm sending you your assignment now, Miss Lawson. This is our top priority. We cannot lose Shepard."

We already lost him; the thought brought a cold numbness to her chest. I lost him, she corrected herself, feeling the burning of tears swelling in her eyes.

A soft beep from her Omni-Tool alerted her that her assignment had been successfully downloaded. She called it up, her eyes widening when she read the opening crawl.

Project Lazarus

"Sir, this must be a mistake?" she was unsure if she could believe her eyes. This had to be a mistake, a trick played by her imagination which foolishly gripped onto the hope that he wasn't truly gone.

"There is no mistake, Miss Lawson," he answered. There was a soft click, signaling that he had hung up.

The orange glow of her Omni-Tool was the only light in the darkness of her room. She continued to stare at the assignment and what was expected of her and what she was supposed to accomplish.

It seemed like a bad joke. How could someone ask of her this? How could this be completed? She had to be dreaming. This had to be a dream, surely this couldn't be real. Shepard dying, her assignment to rebuild him, surely this was all a complex dream based off her own fears and insecurity about her relationship with Shepard which was being fed by her own subconscious. That made more sense than this. 

And yet there she continued to sit in the dark, her eyes shifting to the empty space on her bed. She almost expected to see Shepard sleeping soundly beside her.

The realization hit her like a sinking stone. Not only was the man she grew to care for dead, but it was up to her to do the impossible:

She had to bring him back to life.

Miranda was going to be sick.

She felt the burning taste of bile creep up her throat as she looked down at the body of Shepard. No, a body was too kind of a word to describe what she was looking at. She immediately turned away from the gruesome sight, taking a deep breath as she tried to will the bile back down. This couldn't be Shepard. She couldn't see the sinewy muscles of his chest, the strong arms, his dark hair, calloused hands, broad shoulders, or his mesmerizing blue eyes. She had assured Liara, that she could rebuild him. That she could do what had never been accomplished. That she could bring him back to life. That I could play God.

It had been a few days since she had been awakened by the Illusive Man. It was a call which changed and reshaped her life. Seeing Shepard's body for the first time since she got the news from the Illusive Man, just seeing the body solidified the cold realization that he was dead. She was now on a frigate bound to the new prototype space station that the Illusive Man had prepared to house the Lazarus Project. She left the cargo bay after ordering the personnel to properly store Shepard's body for travel. She couldn't stay in the same room with his…corpse. Not now, she had too much to do.

She retreated to the sanctity of her cabin. Where data-pads and numerous files lay scattered across her desk, all of them pertaining information on either Shepard or the ambitious project she was overseeing. His medical history, a detailed account of what needed to be done, a list of items and supplies that she had requested or that had already been delivered. When she sat down to try to look over all the information, Shepard's lifeless body flittered across her vision. 

Focus, Miranda rubbed her eyes, wanting to scrub that image of his body out of her mind. A cold thrum went through her chest while more thoughts drifted through her of him and their time together. Enough, she wrestled them wanting to contain these thoughts and feelings and locking them away.  If I'm to succeed with this then I must approach this as a stranger not a lover.  She needed to detach her emotional interest in him, prune her memories and feelings for him. I need to bury my past with him if I want to give him a future. 

The task before her should have been insurmountable, but she wasn't worried, only determined. After all Miranda Lawson enjoyed a good challenge and this was something so much more than anything else that she had undertaken during her time with Cerberus. She went to her terminal, wanting to record every process of this ambitious project. She clicked the record button, beginning the first entry:

"Commander Shepard has been recovered. The Lazarus Project can begin."

He had awoken!

What was supposed to be an achievement, something worth celebrating had become a near disaster, nearly costing them everything.

Miranda was now alone in her room, excusing herself after the ordeal. She was sitting behind her desk, preparing to send her latest report to the Illusive Man. She would make sure to highlight the numerous mistakes that Wilson had made in hopes that he would be terminated from the project. She brought her fingers to her temple in a gentle massage pattern, hoping it would melt away the stress and frustration that was building up.

The incident was still vivid in her mind, and she was unsure if she would ever forget those precious few seconds.

Shepard had awakened prematurely!

She still couldn't believe the feat that had just been accomplished. Closing her own eyes, she could remember his blue eyes fluttering open. She noticed the fear, the pain, and the confusion shimmering beneath his blue eyes.

His body thrashing on the medical table resembling a fish flailing on the ground after being taken out of water. His arms and legs were still mostly bone and muscle with little to no flesh to cover the exposed limbs. His body was attached to numerous tubes, medical devices, and other instruments, monitoring his condition and slow steady improvement.

He had reacted too strongly to the dosage. It had been one mistake which could have undone countless hours and countless credits worth of research and work.

Thankfully, Miranda Lawson was quick on her feet. She immediately corrected the dosage, even though she was practically foiled by the deadweight known as Wilson.

She had moved to comfort him, an instinct that had propelled her to him before her own sense could direct her. She knew that if he didn't calm down that instead of returning to the induced medical coma that he could die of exposure since his body was unable to support itself in its current state. Miranda wouldn't forget when she called out his name, at how his body momentarily froze, whether it was his name or her voice that stilled him, she didn't know. 

She could still remember the fraction of a second when their eyes met, the surge of electricity that went up her spine. She had forgotten just how blue and ensnaring his eyes had been. She had felt a quick flutter of her stomach before he broke contact, closing his eyes when the medicine took effect. She had let loose the breath she had been holding in that enthralling moment. After letting loose a verbal tirade, not holding back punches as she dug into Wilson's mistakes and carelessness which nearly doomed the project and ruined any chances of saving Shepard, she had retired to her room.

It had been a dangerous, reckless moment, as she thought about the incident. And yet she allowed herself, a small but very satisfying smile at what she had accomplished. She had taken the first steps in bringing a person back to life.

It was a historic moment. It was a miracle in modern medicine.

Shepard who had been dead for more than a year had regained consciousness, no matter how brief it had been. The impossible had been done. 

She closed her eyes, reminding herself of the moment when their eyes met. "Hold on, Shepard," wanting to remember the deep color of his blue eyes.

"That bastard!" cursed Miranda, crouching behind a row of storage crates as marching LOKI mechs advanced on her.

In a matter of minutes all of Lazarus station was being besieged by mechs! Our own bloody mechs!

Miranda slapped a new clip into her pistol before carefully poking her head up to see the advancing mechs, who immediately opened fire. She slid back down to avoid the barrage of bullets.

"I'm going to kill him!" she snarled, gritting her teeth, and taking a deep breath, she called on her biotics. Her body illuminating with energy, she stood from her position, assaulting the two nearest mechs with a devastating warp.

She continued her assault, by unloading her pistol into the last two mechs, destroying the two mechanical nuisances in seconds. When the last one fell, she holstered her pistol and let out a breath. The biotic energy that she had summoned to handle the mechs, evaporated with a soft crack.

The station had been shut down and emergency protocols had been activated. She surveyed the damage in the cargo bay, frowning when she came across a few of the Cerberus personnel who had been caught in the crossfire. This was an inside job. She knew it. Someone was deliberately trying to sabotage not only the research but their project as well as destroying all evidence. As well as forcing her to wake up Shepard. She was worried what damage it might have on him to be woken prematurely, but she was left with no other choice. If she didn't then she risked losing him again, and that was unacceptable. I didn't do the impossible just to watch it slip out of my fingers when we're so close to the end. 

This was not how she envisioned waking up Shepard. She had carefully planned the procedure. It was to be a serene experience allowing him ample time to adjust to not only his surroundings, and the trauma of coming back to life but to the amount of time that had gone by. She tried to push down the growing fears and risks that began surfacing about the potential the damage that this could do to Shepard.

She needed to prepare for their extraction. She went to one of the last remaining intact shuttles. She entered the cockpit, prepping the engines and priming the FTL drive. Satisfied by the hum of the engines, she exited the shuttle and as she did, she could hear familiar voices coming from the other side of the door. 

Shepard, she felt the brief flutter in her chest at hearing his voice again. It wasn't a recording or a memory, but him, his living, and breathing voice, with all the cadence and command that couldn't be captured by machine or memory. It had been two years since his death, and now he was just only feet away from her.

Putting him back together required putting distance between herself and him, her subject. She had needed to detach herself, but now that he was resurrected, those carefully created walls that she put up to protect herself were threatening to crumble. She steadied her breathing; she couldn't allow herself to be distracted, but thoughts of her pending reunion with Shepard shifted when she heard the other voice besides Shepard and Jacob.

"Wilson," She snarled, retrieving her pistol. She felt the lash of hot anger inside her, being fed on the thoughts of that traitor, who nearly undid all of her work, and worse jeopardized Shepard's life. He nearly made me lose Shepard a second time, she raised and aimed her pistol at the door. And that was unacceptable. 

It was remarkable, Miranda thought with some awe, standing on the command deck of the newly christened Normandy SR-2. To her this state-of-the-art frigate was proof of not just Cerberus's dedication to Shepard, but their dedication to humanity.

This was a symbol of the true ideals of Cerberus. Not the experiments, nor the rogue cells, or the questionable members. It was this. She felt a small sense of pride swell within her at what Cerberus was capable of. It was not the Alliance or the Council that wanted to stop the Collectors or to resurrect Shepard, it was Cerberus.

The mention of Shepard brought her attention to the Commander who was surveying the new galaxy map, his arms folded as he took in his new bearings with Jacob at his side.

She couldn't help but dwell on their first encounter in two years. It could've gone better. 

It had involved her killing Wilson in cold blood in front of Shepard and Jacob. It was definitely not the image she had thought of when she had pictured the moment in her head. To his credit, Shepard didn't seem bothered at the man's execution, instead he agreed with her, voicing his own distrust of the Cerberus engineer.

Their reunion was not something out of those dramatized vids, after a reunion of the lovers there were no hugs or kisses, or proclamations of love. She was not going to leap into his arms and tell him how much she had missed him or confess her undying love to him. She scoffed at the mere thought of that possibility occurring. She wasn't a damsel whose life had been lost without Shepard. His death had hurt her, more so than she would ever admit to another person. 

Regardless, she still had a job to do, a mission to accomplish. Her duty as the Project Lazarus director still wasn't over with Shepard reawakening. To her, Shepard was still a work in progress, a mission unfinished. He may have survived the station, but she still needed to gauge his brain function as well as his memory. Her reports so far of him would be glowing. He was remarkable. 

She had watched his every movement on Freedom's Progress like a parent watching their child take his first steps. She looked for any limps, winces, signs of fatigue or any problem breathing, but he excelled in their mission. He easily passed the physical daunting task of combat, taking out the YMIR mech with ease. She hadn't quite believed Jacob's glowing review of him handling mechs on the station. It was not because she didn't trust Jacob, but she didn't trust Shepard being able to accomplish any such physical toll so quickly after waking up, but apparently, she had been proven wrong.

His endurance and skill against the mechs had been on full display, showing his prowess as a soldier hadn't diminished.

Miranda's brief interactions with him since his recovery had been strained. She was keeping her distance from him. She needed to stay professional. She wasn't comfortable with allowing her personal life to be viewed for all the Normandy SR-2 crew to see. She knew she was coming across as indifferent or cold, but appearances needed to be maintained. A growing part of her, was finding it more and more difficult to keep the façade up. She wanted to reach out for him, smile at him, to take his hands in hers, but she didn't. Shepard woke something deep within her that she found frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

The thought of allowing those emotions to show, to control her was unsettling for the stoic, and calculating Cerberus Operative. She wouldn't allow herself to fall prey to them. 

They were about to embark on a mission that needed to take priority, and she would not allow herself to become distracted or inept while she tried to wrestle with personal feelings. She could only hope that he could understand and if he didn't then perhaps, he wasn't the man, she thought he was…

Chapter Text

Shepard watched the newly recruited salarian scientist, Mordin Solus be led out of the briefing room by Jacob. With their departure, he was left alone with Miranda, who had been cold and aloof towards him ever since their reunion on Lazarus Station. He hadn't been expecting some sappy or over-the-top reunion that you saw on the vids, but he was expecting something, anything, but so far, he's gotten nothing.

Has she moved on? He had been dead for two years. He wanted to push away the thought as soon as it entered his mind, but his attention was drawn elsewhere by the sudden movement of Miranda going to the door.  "Miranda wait," he moved around the briefing room table to catch up with her. "Can we talk?" 

"I'm sorry, Commander," she stopped, arms crossed. "I need to forward our mission report to the Illusive Man."

He frowned. "It's an order Miss Lawson, before we go out to get Archangel." He couldn't wait because he needed to know what was going on with her. And us, and that uncertainty was a distraction he wouldn't put up with anymore. The thought that she took comfort with other men caused a burning anger to swell in his stomach. He knew that he was being childish and unrealistic, but he couldn't stop it. He was used to performing his duty without emotional or personal entanglement but was now being threatened because of this one Cerberus operative. 

The door slid open, penetrating Shepard's inward musings as well as interrupting the silence that had fallen between himself and Miranda.

Jacob stepped out oblivious to the growing tension he had walked into. He looked at Miranda and then to Shepard, straightening his posture and giving a crisp salute to the latter, "Commander."

"I need to get going," Miranda left without giving him a second glance.

"Don't take it personally, Commander," Jacob said, "She's like that with everyone."

"I noticed," Shepard noted dryly, but a new thought had come to his attention from Jacob's observation.

She's protecting herself, he remembered how private a person Miranda was, and she likely didn't want any details of their past to get out to become fodder for the gossiping of the Cerberus crew. That was it, hoping he had come to the right conclusion. He had excused himself from Jacob and was grateful that he wasn't intercepted on his way to the elevator as well as having the elevator to himself as he rode it silently up to his cabin. 

Shepard was still unused to the luxuries or opulence that his room provided him as the door to his cabin opened at his arrival. I've lived in barracks smaller than this room. 

EDI's avatar appeared in her usual spot in front of the sprawling fish tank. "Welcome back, Commander."

"Thanks, EDI," Shepard discarded his helmet on the bed. 

"I have researched the compilation of topics that you asked for."

"I thought I could count on you," said a pleased Shepard, unbuckling the straps of his chest plate. "Start at the beginning, please."

"Very well, Shepard. There were a dozen new books written about you in your two-year absence."

"That few?" Shepard joked, removing his chest plate and laying it down on the floor by his bed.

"Actually Commander, you were one of the most discussed subjects in the published press in the past two years," corrected EDI.

"I was joking, EDI."

It wasn't vanity, but curiosity that had driven him at finding out how he was portrayed after his death. What was my legacy? Was it not in man's nature to be curious with how life moved forward after one's death? How your life was reflected, defined by those you left behind. Has no one ever been guilty of imagining or dreaming of the reactions your death would stir amidst your loved ones? It is our morbid curiosity that leads our consciousness to such grim but alluring thoughts about our mortality and the legacy we leave behind. Shepard was no different in having these wonders. He was just in the unique circumstances to actually be able to see it through.

"You can continue, EDI," he encouraged, slipping into a casual tee and pants once he removed the final piece of his armor.

"I have combed through every book and article and picked out the top ten according to your instructions."

"Did you upload them into my terminal?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Thanks, EDI," Shepard made his way to his desk.

"I was only following my instructions and programming, Commander."

"Could you summarize the best three?"

"Certainly, Commander, one moment please." It was well less than a moment before EDI spoke up again. "The best book which is consistent in the subjects you highlighted is- 'Into the Lion's Den-The Battle of Elysium."

"Who wrote it?"

"It was a group effort, first-hand accounts of five different witnesses."

That immediately caught his interest. He liked the idea of using different perspectives with each one being able to add onto the story's foundation with their own unique account. "Give me another one."

"Baptized by Fire: The Slaughter of Torfan."

He leaned back in his chair, unsurprised by the blunt title or the reference of his most infamous battle. He was aware that his legacy would be tied to the decisions he made in that battle. "What's the last one, EDI?"

"The Requiem of Commander Shepard: Savior or Monster?" EDI answered, "It is a biography that details your childhood all the way up to your actions during the Battle of the Citadel. The author presents only the facts of your life and allows the reader to render the verdict on your legacy."

"I like that," Shepard was intrigued with the premise.

"Shall I continue, Commander?"

"Yes, please, EDI," Shepard paused, turning to the avatar

"I have uploaded the video of your memorial service," EDI informed him. "It is on your terminal, and you can access it from its file."

Shepard nodded his thanks. How often had one dreamed or planned what their funeral would be while they lived? Wanting to know who would speak, what would be said, what was the theme of your life?

"I'm sure it will make for a surreal view."

"Your service was broadcasted throughout Citadel space. It was viewed on Earth and countless other human colonies. The colony of Elysium made your birthday a national holiday. While the Alliance posthumously promoted you in recognition to your outstanding service."

"Really?"

"Yes, Commander, you were promoted to Major."

"Major?" Shepard whistled at the two-rank promotion, that he received. He was aware that it was possible for decorated veterans to receive such an honor posthumously. It was still a rare accommodation. "Huh, Major Shepard," he said it slowly, trying it out.  "I passed my father," he said with a weak chuckle.

His father, Benjamin Shepard had topped out at Staff Commander, a position he still served proudly within the Alliance. That was two years ago. Four years, Shepard corrected himself forgetting to take into account the last two years since he had been dead. "EDI?" 

"Yes, Commander?"

"Could you remind me to send a letter to my father, Staff Commander Ben Shepard before we leave the Omega System?"

"Of course, Commander.

"EDI, why do you still call me Commander if I've been promoted to the rank of Major?"

"To keep things familiar with you Commander," EDI responded after a slight pause. "Since the rank was given to you posthumously, my programming suggests that it would have been more comfortable for you if you were continued to be addressed as Commander."

"That makes sense."

"If you would like Commander, I can readjust my programming and call you Major Shepard?"

Shepard smiled at the AI's thoughtful suggestion, "thank you, EDI, but that won't be necessary. Let's just stick with Commander." He doubted that the Alliance would stand by his promotion now that he was alive.

"Who gave the eulogy?" Shepard asked, realizing that his attention had drifted away from his memorial after the revelation that he had been promoted by the Alliance.

"Councilor Udina."

"WHAT?" shouted Shepard, nearly falling out of his chair at the unexpected news. Of all the people to give his eulogy, he would have wanted his father or Captain Anderson, or Admiral Hackett or Garrus. That slimy, bastard worming his way into Shepard's service was infuriating. He pushed himself out of his chair, before pacing in front of his aquarium in an attempt to release the growing pent-up anger from the revelation. After taking a few breaths, the anger slowly dissipated leaving him feeling only numb.

He ran a hand over his face, his fingers stopping on the scars that covered most of the left side of his face. He sighed, making his way to his private bathroom, his fingers still lingering on the outline of the scars.

He turned to his reflection in his bathroom mirror, bringing his face within an inch from the glassy surface. His eyes transfixed on the orange glow that resonated from his scars. His fingers ran over the uneven surface of his skin.

"Commander Shepard, Miranda and Dr. Chakwas informed you not to pick or scratch at your scars," EDI chirped.

"I'm not!" He dropped his hands, and leaned against the sink, his eyes never leaving his reflection.

"Should I continue with the research that I found?"

"Please," Shepard said, wanting a distraction from his appearance. He turned on the faucet, cupping his hands underneath to catch the cold water. He lowered his face, splashing the water against his skin. 

"I found two possible matches to your keyword search of Lazarus + Religion."

"What are they?" Shepard asked. He turned off the faucet and grabbed a hand towel gently wiping the drops of water off of his face. He was interested in wanting to know the history behind the name and why it was chosen for the title of his project. The name was familiar, but the spacer was having difficulties in tracing it to its proper origins.

"There is the Parable of Lazarus and the rich man, which is found in the Christian Bible, in the Gospel of Luke."

"No, that's not it," Shepard frowned, knowing that the project wasn't named after this parable. "What was the other?"

"The Death of Lazarus, which is also found in the Christian Bible, in the Gospel of John."

"That's it," Shepard left the bathroom, feeling a strange sense of connection with this story, with this man. "What does it say?"

*"When 'Jesus had' said these things, he cried out with a loud voice, 'Lazarus come out.' The man who had died came out, his hands and feet bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, 'unbind him and let him go," EDI paused.

"As recorded in the Christian Bible, the Gospel of John, chapter eleven, verses 43 and 44."

Shepard allowed the words to sink in, realizing that there was little description or effort in recording this miracle, leaving him unfulfilled when EDI had finished. "Is there anything else?"

*"So the chief priest made plans to put Lazarus to death as well, because on account of him many of the Jews were going away and believing in Jesus," EDI recited. "As recorded in the Christian Bible, the Gospel of John, chapter twelve, verses, ten and eleven."

"There has to be more!" The sense of disappointment rising as his expectations had been dashed instantaneously with those two brief verses. "Surely there is an account of his life, his feelings, his adjustments?"

"Not in the Christian Bible."

He sighed, disappointed at the lack of information that he was given. He couldn't understand how the story could be so bare. How could the narrative so effortlessly and casually continue with its narration after such a pronounced miracle had occurred? Shepard wanted answers, he wanted to know how this Lazarus adjusted to death, how he came to live with people once more. What did Lazarus witness in his death? Had Lazarus been stuck in the same dark void Shepard pictured every time he tried to force his mind to try to make sense of where his supposed soul or conscious had been in the past two years.

"Not merely Lazarus's face, but his very character, it seemed, had changed; though it astonished no one and did not attract the attention it deserved."**

Shepard's head shot up at the avatar, realizing that the AI was reciting something from a text. "What's that?"

"The story of Lazarus by Leonid N. Andreyev, it was translated by Abraham Yarmolinsky."

"Download it."

"It is only a literary explanation; it is not based in fact or records, Shepard. It is only an author's interpretation of the events."

"I understand, just download it," Shepard asked again. It was better than nothing.

"It is downloaded and available on your terminal, Commander."

"Thanks, EDI."

"You are welcome, Shepard," the avatar paused, "Logging you out, Commander."

Shepard turned to his terminal, noticing an hour had passed since he had completed Mordin's recruitment mission. He should be hearing from his Omega contact soon.

He had been hoping Miranda would have taken the hint and come to see him by now. He was frustrated that she had yet to show. He believed this was the best time for them to clear the air between them. It would be done in the privacy of his cabin. Pushing aside his frustration, he knew that he had to be patient, but he only hoped that they could resolve this before they went out to get Archangel. He knew that there was a large amount of catch up that he had to do, and it was not just with Miranda, but Wrex, Liara, Garrus, Kaidan, and Tali too.

It had been great to see Tali on Freedom's progress. She was no longer the young quarian on her pilgrimage but a leader of her people. He took pride in her growth. He wouldn't forget her response when she found out he was working with Cerberus. He couldn't blame her for her reaction, after what they had uncovered from the Cerberus cells they had encountered during their chase of Saren. However, he didn't care that they were terrorists and outlaws in Council space. All he cared about was that they believed in the Reaper threat. And that they were investing the resources in trying to stop the Collectors.

The Alliance couldn't say that. The Council couldn't say that. Only Cerberus seemed to be giving a damn about the pending Reaper invasion.

And for Shepard that was good enough for him, for now.

Swoosh, the sound of his door opening broke Shepard from his thoughts on Cerberus to see Miranda Lawson step into the room.

He stood up at her arrival. He ignored the growing desire to cut the distance between them, to embrace her. He instead kept his arms at his side, schooling his expression to remain impassive.

Even in the privacy of his cabin, Miranda made no attempt to slip off her glacial demeanor. She instead, simply met his stare, with one of her own. She took a few steps into his cabin, not even asking permission or acknowledging his presence.

 "Thank you for coming up, Miss Lawson."

She gave him a nod, before turning her attention to his fish tank, which was devoid of fish.

"I think we need to discuss something before we go out to get Archangel," Shepard began, keeping his tone cool, his eyes were resting on her reflection from the fish tank.

"I agree," she admitted softly, turning to face him, with a small smile.

He was caught off guard by her genuine looking smile. "Miranda, I-" she silenced him by putting a finger to his lips. The intimate action caused him to swallow what he was about to say. He noticed the shimmer of amusement in her blue eyes, before she turned her attention to her Omni-Tool. She extended her arm before making a back-and-forth motion while her Omni-Tool gave off a low hissing sound. The clicking noise then suddenly ceased after letting out one final hiss before quieting.

With a satisfying nod, she removed her finger from his lips. "That should give us some privacy."

"Privacy?" Shepard repeated, furrowing his brows before realizing the implication. "THEY HAVE BUGS IN MY ROOM?"

"It's a precaution," Miranda countered, in a soothing voice, before placing a gloved hand on his shoulder.

The combination of her voice and her touch had him bite down on his angry retort. "For someone who invested two years of their life into bringing me back, you act as if you don't want to be in the same room with me."

 She walked past him, down the step and towards the L -shaped leather sofa, but she made no attempt to sit down. "I can't apologize for who I am."

Shepard leaned against the fish tank. His eyes were on her back. "I didn't ask for an apology, only an explanation."

"An explanation?" she repeated, "sometimes I wanted one too. A reasonable explanation for this attachment I felt for you." She looked over her shoulder, "I don't do well with attachments."

"I noticed," Shepard said dryly.

"Ass," she said the word with no sting.

"Look Miranda, I understand if you've moved on," he said, but was unable to meet her gaze while discussing it. "I mean, I was dead."

"Move on?"

He knew she was looking at him, but he refused to shift his attention towards her. He clenched his jaw, swallowing the painful lump in his throat at the likelihood.

"One just can't move on after being with you, Shepard."

He hadn't been expecting a joke and was unable to prevent the dry chuckle that escaped his serious demeanor. The corners of his lips tugged into a crooked grin. He casually stretched. "No, I suppose you couldn't, not after sampling the best."

She playfully rolled her eyes, "I was with the Lazarus Project for two years, Shepard," she reminded him. "Our station was not equipped with a singles bar."

"That's too bad."

"Yes, it was," she agreed, taking a few steps closer to him. "Did you expect me to have joined an online dating service?"

His imagination conjured the image of the perfect Miranda Lawson filling out one of those ridiculously personal online profiles or spending her time in one of those dating chat rooms. 

"Those two years, putting you back together were the most daunting of my life," she paused, "I had to detach myself from you, bury the memories we shared, as I invested every ounce of my strength and will into rebuilding you." She whispered, her hand reaching up to him, her knuckles grazing his cheek. "Every day I was confronted with your face, your voice, your legacy." Her frosty mask had completely slipped away, leaving her bare for him to see the toll his death had had on her. 

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not," she said, tapping a finger under his chin.

"You're not?" 

"Your death stimulated an emotional response I didn't know I could feel for someone else," she explained, "even after our agreement on the Citadel."

"So why the attitude?"

"Appearances must be attained, Shepard," she answered, without the slightest hint of regret. "If the crew had become aware of our entangled relationship…"

"Our relationship?" 

"You know what I mean," she said sounding flustered and looking annoyed.

"I'm afraid, I don't, Miss Lawson," he was enjoying every second of the teasing.

"I'm referring to our past relationship."

"And what about now?" he asked, bringing his hand to her cheek, she instantly reacted to the contact, leaning into his touch. A few seconds of precious bliss passed in the silence of the two lovers before she seemed to regain her control in an attempt to keep her focus on the conversation.

"I will admit that our times together were well spent," She said, "However, I think we should be prudent if we continue with any such relationship. It should be kept secret."

"Between us?" 

"Yes," she was the one to kiss him. He had forgotten just how sweet her lips were, as the kiss deepened, he felt a slight moan escape her lips after his hands had cupped her bottom.

"Commander Shepard?" Joker's sudden voice instantly pried them apart. "Aria's informant just contacted us. The gangs are making their move against Archangel."

"Understood," Shepard was going to have to take out some of his frustration at being interrupted on some mercenaries. "I'm on my way down."

Miranda too, looked disappointed, "too bad, Shepard," she said, before placing a chaste kiss on his lips. "I was looking forward to showing you how much I missed you."

"Next time, I'll make sure to disable all communications to my cabin."

She laughed, "good, because I would hate if we were interrupted a second time." As she walked towards the doors of his cabin; Shepard noticed she was putting an extra sway in her hips. She stopped on the threshold of his cabin's entrance, looking over her shoulder; she offered him a warm smile. "Until next time." She gave him a wink before the doors closed behind her.

His eyes remained on the door of his cabin for a moment, before he went to collect his armor, he could only think of one thing: Archangel better be worth that costly interruption.

Chapter Text

Garrus Vakarian was Archangel…

Miranda Lawson sat alone in her office, reflecting on the revelation of Archangel's identity and the mission that took them to the Omega Vigilante.

The Normandy has since left the lawless station of Omega and the Terminus Systems and was now heading towards the Citadel. The operation to recover and save Archangel had not gone smoothly. The turian had taken heavy fire from a Blue Suns gunship. However, not only did he survive the attack and the necessary surgery afterwards but had all but recovered. The turian was already tinkering with the Normandy's weapon systems, trying to maximize the ship's firepower.

While he and Shepard practically picked up where they left off. They were often seen together, talking and laughing, joking and sharing stories with other fellow Normandy SR-1 hold-overs-Dr. Chakwas and Joker.

This did not come as a surprise to Miranda. She saw their friendship firsthand two years ago when they had responded to the Cerberus Cell's distress signal. There, she discovered that the Alliance poster boy kept a squad of mostly alien species and had been able to smoothly integrate them with his Alliance crew. We need that for this mission. He was tasked to lead and recruit a new diverse squad in hopes of stopping the Collectors. It fell on him to maintain morale on a mission that everyone including herself had deemed a Suicide Mission.

Shepard's own mood had shown a vast improvement in being back in the company of Garrus, his friend and confidante. Since the fallout of Vakarian's recruitment, she had yet to find a chance to speak privately with Shepard. That would allow them to continue their intimate conversation and exploration down an unfamiliar path for both the Spectre and Operative. Miranda Lawson prided herself on preparations whether it be on the field of battle or in the lab. She liked to be able to know what to expect but at the same time, be prepared for the unexpected.

In the process of her most important mission, she found herself uncomfortably staring into a proverbial abyss, unfamiliar with the destination or the consequences that her actions could lead her to. It made her very unsettled. She needed to be in control, so that she could better influence or contain the events or details around her. At the moment, Miranda Lawson did not find herself in control of either her emotions or her surroundings.

One of the first emotions she was forced to confront was the feeling of disappointment or jealousy that seeped through the crevices of the barriers she had put up to protect her from those she came into contact or involvement with. These feelings stemmed from her inability to be with Shepard since their last conversation. The fiercely independent Operative refused to acknowledge and legitimize these feelings. It's ridiculous, she chided herself. To think that she needed Shepard to satisfy some inner craving was a bitter realization that she refused to accept. Further adding salt to the wound, would be to admit a growing form of jealousy towards the turian.

She was aware of the deep-rooted friendship and camaraderie that the two shared. She was also quick to observe the ease of the friendship, and the natural banter that flowed between the two friends. The presence of Garrus had relieved the stress and tension that Shepard had been feeling. The latter was difficult to acknowledge because at times, Miranda was sure that her own presence with the Commander, only seemed to add to his growing stress and tension.

Enough, wanting to shake herself from this self-imposed stupor of exhausting and pointless argument. She powered up her terminal, needing a distraction and target of her growing pent-up energy that was being drained from this mental quagmire. She would not allow herself to wallow in these emotions, especially with so much work that still needed to be done.

She had already sent her mission report of Archangel's recruitment to the Illusive Man. She found it very difficult to believe that her boss was unaware of Archangel's true identity. Especially since the Illusive Man was considered one of the better information brokers whose access to information could only be rivaled by the Shadow Broker. She wasn't annoyed by the decision to keep them in the dark or the motives behind the decision. She understood the purpose behind the move. Not wanting to be drawn back into that particular line of thought, she opened up her inbox, perusing through the countless mundane messages, before stopping on her newest message which pertained to Shepard's extra-net activity under his account.

She clicked on the message. Her terminal screen immediately besieged by the amount of pop ups that informed her of the total amount of activity that he had registered under his account in the last few days. It was a staggering find that caught her by surprise and led her curiosity to try to focus in on the exact information that he was looking into. She didn't feel guilty while she waited for this revealing information to load. Miranda didn't see this as an act of invading his privacy, on the contrary to her she was helping aide in his recovery. The Illusive Man had been quite clear in his instructions about monitoring the Commander. He wanted to make sure that Shepard's mind and body were intact after the Lazarus Project. She couldn't allow her feelings for Shepard to cloud her own duties.

She had watched his body go through the tiring ordeals of battle during the missions on Freedom's Progress and Omega. This was her chance to monitor his mind to make sure that he was beyond distractions and that his mind was recovering and functional. Haven't we been busy, she mused when she saw all the sites and searches that Shepard had been busy looking through under his account.

He had been spending a lot of his time looking up his own past and records, specific events including Elysium, Torfan, and the Battle of the Citadel. She noted on a separate file. His interest went further than just any one event. He highlighted or bookmarked articles, books, and stories that focused on the military and public facets of his life and legacy. The amount he had downloaded and absorbed surprised and amazed her. She found his pursuit of knowledge admirable. Miranda jotted down a few more shorthand observations, believing this information would be vital for her in her on-going efforts to evaluate and monitor him. 

'Lazarus'

Miranda paused at the word, which appeared after Shepard's searches of his prior battles and events. It was the highest key word that he searched. The second highest search was –

'Lazarus + Religion'

Very curious, she thought, realizing that he was trying to uncover the truth or history behind the extensive and expensive project that's sole purpose was in bringing him back to life.

The Story of Lazarus

Unlike the Biblical verses or references, that had come up multiple times in Shepard's search. This was the opus of a Russian writer at the turn of the twentieth century; making it a piece of literature, and not theological evidence. And yet this work of literature had ensnared Shepard's attention more so than any of the Biblical verses.

Miranda brought up the story on her terminal, wanting to know why this particular story had captivated him. When the story was brought to her monitor, her eyes were immediately drawn to a certain block of text.

**"His fingers were blue, too, and under his nails, which had grown long in the grave, the blue had turned livid. Here and there on his lips and body, the skin, blistered in the grave, had burst open and left reddish glistening cracks…"

The descriptive words riled within her mind, instinctively bringing up brief but vivid memories of her work in the Lazarus Project.

She was confronted with his decomposing body. It was the memory of her first clear encounter with the body of her former lover. She could feel the bile burning the back of her throat while she was forced to relive those awful moments of taking in Shepard's broken and battered body on a slab of cold metal... 

Beep

Miranda gasped, emerging out of her induced trance. She could feel the thundering beat of her heart, pummeling into her ribs. Her hands trembled, fingers shivering from where they were hovering above the keyboard. She was quick to control her breathing, which helped to settle down her heartbeat and to maintain a sense of control over the situation. She looked around her office surroundings, satisfied that she had freed herself from the paralyzing burden of reliving some of those very painful memories.

She turned off her terminal, no longer wanting to read the story or more information concerning Shepard.  She brought one of her hands to her temple, her deft fingers applying a soothing massage in hopes of removing the tension she could feel building up.

You're better than this. Her control had dramatically slipped from her grasp. She couldn't allow her past with the Lazarus Project and the memories that stem from it affect her duties now or her relationship with the very man she brought back to life.

He had been dead, she rebuilt him, brought him back to life. End of story, she refused to dwell further on the matter. It was unproductive and unhelpful.  

Beep.

The noise brought a halt to her inward musings. 

She accessed the appropriate controls, causing the door to open with a swoosh. She was expecting Daniels or Donnelly, who were supposed to be giving her the reports on the T6-FBA Couplings that Shepard had picked up on Omega. The couplings were supposed to make the maintenance for the drive core far easier for the pair of Cerberus engineers. However, it was neither Daniels nor Donnelly. It wasn't even Shepard.

Miranda Lawson was confronted with the scarred turian, Garrus Vakarian.

He was standing on the threshold of her office. "I hope I'm not interrupting something."

"No," she said quickly, not wanting to show any sign of her earlier duress. "Please come in."

The turian nodded his thanks. His small eyes were quick to scan around her office, but his eyes returned to her when he approached her desk, putting his hands behind his back.

When he approached her desk, she was quick to look down at her terminal, making sure the screen was blank. She didn't want him privy to what she had been reading or what she had access to. "Sit," she offered to the nearest chair.

He did after a brief hesitation.  "I like what you've done with the place."

She raised a dark eyebrow in the turian's direction, confused by his remark since she was unaware of him seeing her office prior to this moment. "I beg your pardon."

"In comparison to the last time I saw your office," he clarified, his hand gesturing towards the wall. "When it was covered in husk flesh and littered with dead bodies."

"Indeed," she remarked, knowing that he was referring to their last encounter over two years ago. She refused to rise to the bait. 

"I suppose Cerberus cleans up nicely," he leaned back in his seat. "I guess the pay must be quite good for xenophobic terrorists, if you were able to build this fancy remodeled Alliance-Turian Hierarchy frigate."

"I'm not xenophobic," Miranda's defense slipped past her icy façade. It was the one attack that she did not tolerate to be applied to herself.

"Oh?" the turian replied. "I suppose most of your members missed that memo, or just chose to ignore it."

She knew there were better ways to fight ignorance then by pointless arguments that relied on emotional fervor and not logic. 

She could rely on facts to prove the error in the turian's judgment. It was even easier when she could offer personal proof. And I have just the thing.

"Do you know how we came by your dossier?" she asked. She knew the sudden change of topic had caught him off-guard, his mandibles twitched in surprise, and his small blue eyes remained on hers, but he made no attempt to answer. "We've been aware of your activity for the past fourteen months," knowing that he was listening intently, she continued. "You recall the raid, you and your friends made on that Blue Suns weapon shipment, two months ago?"

"You're well informed," he said, with a shrug. "That doesn't surprise me."

She had to give the turian his due. He was very good at controlling his emotions and shielding what she knew to be his own curiosity at her precise information on his dealings.

"Oh, that we are," she agreed, her tone gaining confidence when she added. "We gave you the information on that Blue Suns weapon shipment."

"That's impossible," he said with a shake of his head, his annoyance in what he believed to be a lie evident in his tone. "That intelligence came from a turian named-"

"Dorik Trevlen," she finished for him, suppressing a smile at the disbelief in the turian's expression. His jaw opened and closed but no words came out. "He's a Cerberus informant," Miranda explained. "The balance of power in Omega is very important to us. We make sure to have eyes and ears on all three gangs." Miranda seeing her opening to further exploit the situation in her favor, she continued. "Or the sabotage code on those Eclipse mechs that you and your friends hacked into four months ago? Or that attack on the Eclipse red sand shipment? Busting up the Blood Pack slaving operation?" She knew she had gotten her point successfully across by the turian's silence. "Perhaps next time you wish to criticize, you should rely on facts, and not emotions," she finished, taking a small amount of pride and pleasure in winning the argument. 

"A few good deeds, doesn't make up for a lifetime of wrong."

She expected this tactic. She was aware that he was trying to ignore the issue of the help they provided him, by reminding her of a few unethical experiments. She refused to acknowledge these tactics. She had better things to do. "If you wanted to exchange insults," she drawled, "I'm afraid I don't have the time." 

He sighed but made no attempt to get up. He brought one of his talons under his chin, delicately scratching at the skin. "No, that's not what I wanted to accomplish."

Miranda wasn't skilled enough to properly and consistently read the body language of turians. "Then what did you wish to discuss?"

"I've been talking to Shepard. He's brought me up to date with this mission against the Collectors."

"That is to be expected," she observed, still not sure what had led him to her office.

"I thought that it might be imperative if we talked before, we went out in the field."

"Talk?" Miranda repeated, trying to gauge the turian's emphasis behind the word.

"Yeah, you know," he paused, fumbling for a clearer explanation. "I think you humans call it- 'clearing the air?"

She nodded, signaling to him that he had used the proper human saying.

"Since the last time we worked together, Shepard and I were cleaning up your mess."

"I see," she said, annoyance seeping into her tone at his continuous mention of that incident.

"But no matter what your organization is guilty of, the Collectors need to be our primary focus."

"Agreed." She was hopeful now that this conversation or truce was behind them, that he would leave and allow her to get back to work before the Normandy docked on the Citadel. "If there isn't anything else?" 

"There is one more thing."

"What's that?"

"How did you do it?"

She met his gaze, knowing at once what he was referring to. She recognized the genuine curiosity that laced his question and mirrored his blue eyes. She understood and expected these sorts of questions especially from those close to Shepard who believed or had seen their Commander die in front of them in that surprise attack, two years ago.

"How did you bring him back to life?" He clarified, wrongly taking her meditative silence in believing that she hadn't understood his question.

Miranda opened her mouth to briefly explain the parameters of the Lazarus Project, hoping the answer would suffice and finally grant her some solitude so that she could work in peace. But a new idea came to her mind, and it was too tempting to resist. "How do you know it's really him?" she said instead. "He could be a clone or artificial intelligence programmed to believe he's the real Shepard."

It was an absurd question for her to ask, because she had overseen the Lazarus Project personally, but she was aware of the rumors that were already beginning to circulate. She saw this as a challenging too tempting to ignore. 

"I know better," he scoffed, sounding insulted at the prospect that he could so easily be duped by a doppelganger. "I know him better."

"Shepard?"

"Yeah, I know it's the real him," one of his talons was rhythmically tapping against his armor chest plate.

"Oh?" she asked, unable to hide her curiosity in his confident reply. "How's that?"

"When you work in C-Sec long enough you pick up on things," he answered. "Habits that couldn't be duplicated, because they don't follow a formula. It's in their very nature."

That caught her interest. "And what habits does Shepard have?"

"It's the little things, the ones you wouldn't pick up on unless you're looking for them."

"And you looked for them?"

"That's in my nature," he said. "I have to be cautious especially when Cerberus is involved."

"So, what are these habits?" she asked again.

He opened his mouth to answer, but another voice punctured through Miranda's office, interrupting their private conversation.

"Miss Lawson, Commander Shepard has requested your presence in the Communication room."

Miranda turned to the AI avatar, slightly annoyed at their interruption. "Understood, I'm on my way up."

"He has also requested your presence as well, Garrus."

"Oh?" sounding a bit surprised that the AI knew he was there. "I'm on my way up too."

"Very well, I will inform the Commander," EDI's avatar disappeared when she finished speaking.

Garrus was quick to stand up, turning towards her. "I'm ahh… Glad we had this talk, and we were able to come to this…"

"Truce?"

He nodded, "Yeah, this truce."

She tilted her head in acknowledgment, watching the turian leave. She was disappointed by the AI's interruption, wanting to know these so-called traits of Shepard that the turian was able to observe and pick up on. She supposed she had to wait to get her answers from him at another time. Instead, she was left to wonder why Shepard wanted to see her and Garrus when they were still hours away from reaching the Citadel. 

Miranda Lawson stepped into the communication room, to see that there was only one other occupant-Commander John Shepard. She was a bit surprised to have reached the room before Garrus, since the turian had left her office before her. 

"Miss Lawson," Shepard's attention was on a virtual wall of text that was being projected over the large table that divided the communication room. 

"I imagine this is important, Commander?" 

He looked away from the terminal, and meeting her with those intense blue eyes, his lips crooked into a smile. "I wouldn't dare waste your time, Miss Lawson."

She walked along the other side of the table, allowing it to serve as a barrier between herself and Shepard. "I don't recall it being a waste at the Citadel." Where had that come from?  Surprised by her own boldness and playfulness.

He raised an eyebrow at her open remark, clearly caught off guard by the reminder of their time together on the Citadel. However, she never knew what he would say in response since it was in that moment that the turian decided to join them. 

"Sorry, I'm late, I was-"

"Let me guess," Shepard turned to his turian friend. "You were calibrating?"

"No," Garrus answered, "How do you humans put it, I was ahh…Using the facilities."

Shepard held up his hand which was holding the data-pad, clearing telling his friend that he didn't need to go any further with an explanation. The Commander was unable to fight off an amused smile at his friend's handling of the human vernacular. His expression sobered at his next words. "We've had a change of plans."

Garrus, who was now standing beside Shepard, had his eyes on the terminal display. "I take it; we're no longer headed towards the Citadel?"

Shepard answered his friend's question with a shake of his head. "We're headed to Sanctum, in the Decoris system."

Miranda was familiar with the planet. Aware that Cerberus had some investments and other financial commitments to the planet's economy and mining infrastructure. "Did this come from Cerberus Command?" 

"No, it's a dossier," He raised his hand which was holding a data-pad, "A new dossier," He then gestured to the terminal display that was projected between them. 

"A new dossier?" repeated Miranda, confused and curious by this unexpected news. 

"Yes," answered Shepard, placing the data-pad on the table, "EDI?"

The AI's avatar appeared on cue, "I have the information you requested, Commander."

The wall of text from the terminal display was replaced by a single picture.

For a moment, Miranda thought this was a joke, looking up at the image of an armored batarian. Especially when she noticed the distinct symbol and colors of the Blue Suns on the batarian's armor.

"His dossier was marked urgent," Shepard said, "which leads me to believe that recruiting him will probably be dangerous and problematic."

"When are our missions ever easy?" Garrus asked, bringing a hand to his own scarred face, while a single talon dragged across the uneven surface of his skin.

Shepard nodded, "His name is Drek Vharad. He serves as a legionnaire and is supposedly one of their best when it comes to tech warfare. " Shepard was reading off the data-pad, "According to his dossier, he has been an informant for Cerberus on Blue Suns activity for the last two years."

"Wow, a batarian working for Cerberus," Garrus remarked, "And here I thought I'd seen everything."

"Except that gunship," Shepard quipped, his eyes still on the data-pad, but Miranda was sure she saw the corners of his lips tug upwards.

"Hah-hah," Garrus said, dragging his talon across his scarred face. "who said I didn't see the ship? Maybe I thought I'd even the playing field for you, Shepard."

Shepard chuckled. "Well, next time we're on the Citadel remind me to buy you a nice new jar of some of that ugly looking face paint you insist on wearing."

Miranda resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She wouldn't admit she was amused by the banter between the turian and human, but she would admit that the current conversation was leading them nowhere. She cleared her throat, which effectively cut through their conversation, reminding them to stay focused on the task at hand. 

"Why this batarian is with Cerberus is not our concern," Shepard's eyes were on the picture of said batarian, whose image remained projected above the table. 

"Did the Blue Suns find him out?" Miranda asked. 

"Unknown, it wasn't put in the dossier." Shepard answered, "Perhaps his skills in tech warfare make him a more valuable ally and a squad member for our suicide run then his Blue Suns undercover work?"

"That's possible," Miranda admitted, but she was certain there had to be more especially with its sudden and unexpected arrival as their top priority. 

"I doubt the Blue Suns will just let us walk into their base and relieve them of him," Garrus glibly observed.

"Only if they've changed their protocol during my two-year absence," Shepard deadpanned

"What intel do we have on the Blue Suns base?" Miranda asked, not wanting this conversation to derail down another road of pointless joking.

"According to the Cerberus intelligence, it's a small manned base that the Blue Suns use to produce false distress signals to lure merchant freighters with the intent of raiding and capturing these vessels."

"It looks like they're branching out from weapon smuggling and slave trafficking," Garrus dryly noted. "Good for them."

"Our top priority is recovering the batarian," Shepard reminded them, "shutting down these signals will be a secondary objective and only after we've secured Drek."

"Understood, Commander," Miranda said crisply.

"Just give the word, Shepard," Garrus added.

"We should be arriving to the system momentarily," Shepard looked from Garrus and then to Miranda, "Since you two will be with me, can I count on you to behave and work together?"

She understood the Commander's concerns and if their roles had been reversed, she too would have had some lingering doubts about herself working with Garrus. However, it was Garrus who put the Commander's doubts to rest.

"Don't worry, Shepard," Garrus injected, gesturing to her when he added. "We've already cleared the air."

It was clear that a conversation between herself and Garrus caught Shepard by surprise, as the Commander turned from Miranda and then to Garrus. She recognized the sincere doubt that lingered behind his searching gaze showing that he didn't know quite what to make of that. "You two cleared the air?"

"Yes, Mister Vakarian is right," Miranda answered confidently.

"Mister Vakarian?" repeated an amused Garrus at her choice of word. "Huh, I don't think I've ever been called that before."

"We have come to a truce," Miranda pushed on, ignoring the turian's musing. "We will not allow the past to interfere with our objectives in stopping the Collectors."

He looked them over briefly before finally giving the two, an approving nod, before adding. "Good, I'm glad to hear it, because I'm going to need everybody focused and willing to give their best, we can't afford distractions or doubts. This mission is too important." He stepped away from the table, and as he did, the light of the room spotlighted his face, causing Miranda to be drawn to his glowing facial scars that went up from his neck, chin, and covered most of his left cheek.

The soft glow of the scars led her thoughts right back to the particular verse she had read from that Lazarus story she had found in Shepard's files.

**"The skin, blistered in the grave, had burst open and left reddish glistening cracks…"

She forced herself to quell the thoughts and the verse itself, not wanting to be distracted and needing to stay focused. Nor did she want to be caught staring, she quickly looked away and as she did, she momentarily met Shepard's intense stare. The look in his eyes caused Miranda to wonder had he caught her staring at his scars…

 "I need you two to report to the shuttle in five minutes," Shepard gave the order. "We have a batarian to rescue."

"Bag 'em, and tag 'em!" Shepard shouted.

"Hey!" Garrus stood up from behind the row of crates a few yards back from Miranda's position. He had taken shelter so that he could rely on his sniper rifle. "That's my line, Shepard."

Shepard offered his friend a shrug before replying, "You haven't been using it."

Garrus responded to the playful indifferent reply by giving a casual and feign attempt at vanity by raising his rifle. "I suppose I should be honored; you know copying the best and all."

Shepard snorted in amusement, "yeah, you're right, you're the best at cowering behind those crates while I take down the mercs."

"I don't cower," Garrus dramatically huffed. "I suppose your keen observation skills overlooked those pair of Blue Sun engineers that I took out?" Garrus centered his argument by gesturing to the rifle he held, before pointing to the pair of Salarian corpses that lay a few feet from them, the proof to his claim.

Miranda silently wondered if she was working with trained soldiers or teenagers. She knew the two to be very skilled and a lethal combination, having seen their teamwork on full display mere seconds ago. "I thought this was supposed to be a barely manned base, Shepard." She didn't need to gesture to the handful of shuttles that had landed in front of the base nor the dozens of bodies that strewn about the ground between them and the base, all that remained of their unsuccessful attempt to ambush them. 

"Perhaps the Blue Suns became aware of their little Cerberus informant," Shepard suggested. 

"That might mean they killed him," Miranda pointed out after seeing how casual Shepard was in the possibility that their trip had been an utter waste of their time.

Garrus shook his head, "no, they would want him alive for collateral."

"Collateral?" Miranda asked.

"Yeah," Shepard agreed. "Collateral for when we came to get him."

Miranda had to admit that their point of observation made sense. "You mean a bargaining chip for their own lives?"

"Or a means to exploit Cerberus and earn some extra credits," Garrus countered. 

Shepard was already making his way to the doors when he spoke up. "Too bad, we don't negotiate."

Garrus who was following the Commander's footsteps was quick to add. "I guess they didn't get that memo."

Chapter Text

On this mission to recruit this batarian Blue Suns Legionnaire, Shepard wasn't sure what to expect. He had never worked with a batarian before and wasn't sure what to make of the possibility of this unusual alliance. He had yet to meet a batarian who didn't hold some particular hatred or grudge against humanity. And here we have one actively working for Cerberus...

Shepard had to put his musings on hold when the entrance doors of the Blue Suns base opened. The Commander was first to investigate the room, his M-15 Vindicator was raised, his eyes swept across the area in front of him to see that the room was empty. Parts of the wall and ceiling had collapsed into chunks that now littered across the floor. Electrical fires had sparked to life from the overloaded terminals on the walls. He noticed the bullet holes that peppered the walls, the burnt smear against the entrance door. An incinerator blast, he reckoned, but despite this being a battlefield he saw no bodies. 

"I got blood over here, Shepard!"

Miranda's voice broke through Shepard's reflective study of the room. He found her beside a turned over desk, crouched over a small pool of dark blue blood. 

"It's turian," Garrus observed, standing over them. 

"There's a blood trail," Miranda gestured to the few drops of bluish blood, a short distance from the puddle. The blood was smudged across the floor, leading off to the only other door in the entrance room. 

The door that will take us deeper into the Blue Sun's base. When he opened his mouth to give the order for them to advance the door in front of them opened with a slight swish. It revealed a single bloodied and beaten turian, dressed in Blue Suns gear. He hadn't taken two steps before he shouted in pain, falling onto the ground. The back of his armor was smoldering, revealing the grouping of bullets that had penetrated through the turian's kinetic barriers and armor.

"Shit," Shepard cursed, finding cover along the wall that was beside the door that the turian had just run out of. Garrus and Miranda took shelter behind the tossed desk. However, once the turian hit the ground, there had been no other shots fired, nor could Shepard hear any advancing footsteps from those who had gunned down the turian.

"Nobody's in the corridor," Garrus pointed out, using the scope of his M-92 Mantis to scout the room beyond the one they were standing in.

That was good enough for Shepard. Peeling away from the wall with his M-15 Vindicator in hand; he looked out into the corridor to see a pair of doors at the other end. "Come on we need to move."

"Ahh, investigating creepy mercenary bases," Garrus mused. "This is definitely like old times, Shepard."

"This does sound awfully familiar," agreed Shepard, who couldn't help but smile despite their grim surroundings.

"Were you two this obnoxious and loud during those missions too?" Miranda asked dryly. 

"I like to think I wasn't that obnoxious back then."

"That's because you had nothing to be obnoxious about, Garrus," Shepard replied, "Unless the contest was who could file the most C-Sec forms in under an hour."

"Hah-hah," Garrus called from behind Shepard. "By the way I own that record. Its two forms in one hour!"

"You gotta love bureaucracy," Shepard chuckled, knowing there was no love lost between his best friend and his former employer, C-Sec. 

"Almost as much as this current conversation," drawled Miranda.

They arrived at the doors at the end of the corridor. He was careful to stop far enough away from the doors so that their motion sensors couldn't pick up on his presence.

"Be on guard," he called over his shoulder, hearing their affirmative responses, they advanced. 

The doors opened to reveal a small rectangular shaped room. The room was uneventful besides a large stack of crates stacked against one of the walls while the room's right-side wall was made up of glass paneling. Shepard cautiously stepped forward towards the glass paneling to realize that it gave him a bird's eye view of the large room below which looked like some sort of storage warehouse. There were hundreds of crates stacked, packed, lining, and littering the room below.

He was sure the crates below belonged to the numerous frigates and other ships that the Blue Suns had robbed by using their fake distress signal. Catching movement, Shepard realized there was more than just crates down in the room below. A handful of Blue Suns could be seen carefully moving along the rows of crates. Looks like they're taking cover, he didn't need to wait long to see what they were taking cover from as he spotted a group of mechs marching in the direction of the mercenaries. 

"Those are Blue Sun mechs," Garrus pointed out, "and they're hunting Blue Suns," he chuckled, "Serves the bastards right." His dealings with the Blue Suns from his time in Omega did not make him sympathetic to the mercenary's current plight. 

The Blue Suns were trying to stave off the mechs, but they didn't have the firepower to go up against the Y-MIR Mech that was accompanying the smaller LOKI Mechs. The mercenaries were killed by an explosive bombardment from the Y-MIR Mech's cannon. 

"It seems our friend is handling the situation well enough," Miranda said. 

Shepard agreed, it appeared this Drek was more than capable of defending himself against the mercenaries, but they still needed to come up with a plan to get to the batarian which would not be easy with both Blue Suns mercenaries and mechs standing between them. 

"Damn it, Drek!" An angry and loud voice blared from overhead speakers. "You can't remain barricaded in that office! We have the area surrounded! Now surrender in the cafeteria and you might be shown some mercy."

"Well, it looks as if we have a location," Garrus said.

"And a direction," Miranda added, she was able to bring up a three-dimensional layout of the Blue Suns base from her Omni-Tool.

"Well let's not keep our recruit waiting."

Shepard didn't track how long it took him and his companions to reach the area surrounding the cafeteria, knowing that they did have to climb a few stairwells and avoid handfuls of both mechs and mercenaries. Since they didn't want to be tracked by either, wanting the element of surprise in dealing with the Blue Suns mercenaries and they were still unsure if Drek's hacked mechs would see Shepard and company as friends or potential foes.

The two humans and turian stopped inside one of the last remaining rooms that gave them some buffer between the hostile forces they were sure to meet beyond these doors.

Miranda was quick to call up her Omni-Tool to access the lay-out of the base. "According to this map, these doors should take us down a corridor that will lead us right to the cafeteria."

"We should expect resistance," Shepard instructed his team, "From both sides."

"When have we ever had a peaceful mission, Shepard?" Garrus asked, handling his own assault rifle.

Shepard, once more had to agree with his friend's jovial observation. It seemed no matter what mission he was assigned, asked, or stumbled onto, he had never gone through any mission without at one point or another having to use his weapon. "Well, let's hope that the mechs have taken out most of the Blue Suns."

"And who will take out the mechs?"

Shepard turned to Garrus. "Weren't you just recently bragging about the new Tech commands you had installed to your Omni-Tool?"

Garrus looked down at the mention of the Omni-Tool, as it glowed a soft orange, before turning back to Shepard. "Well, I'm glad to know you still listen, Shepard."

Shepard smiled. Retrieving a grenade from his belt, he approached the door, sensing his presence it opened, catching off-guard a handful of Blue Suns mercenaries in the corridor, without further wait, Shepard tossed he grenade into the hallway. It skidded and bounced towards the unsuspecting mercenaries who had enough time to look down the hallway to see the grenade coming in their direction before it went off. The force of the explosion shook the corridor, the blossoms of flames engulfing the mercenaries, whose shouts and cries of pain were drowned out at their quick deaths.

"Scratch one," Garrus remarked, the turian entered the smoking corridor, rifle raised and ready for any approaching mercenaries from the other end. None came, knowing that time was of the essence, Shepard led the squad forward, their steps quick in not wanting to be trapped in the corridor like the mercenaries who they just killed.

"The cafeteria is just up ahead," Miranda relayed, as the trio exited the corridor without meeting further resistance from the Blue Suns.

"We got company," Garrus called, signaling with his rifle to the handful of Blue Suns mercenaries who were standing between them and the cafeteria. The turian was quick to peel away from Shepard and Miranda, taking position behind a turned over table to handle his beloved sniper rifle.

Miranda, had her pistol drawn, her body alit with her biotics as she called on a powerful warp to take down the two turian mercenaries in front. Shepard favoring his assault rifle emptied his incendiary clip into a pair of batarians, tearing through shields and armor, their smoldering bodies falling to the floor. A précised headshot from Garrus took out the remaining mercenary, whose shields didn't stand a chance.

"That was almost too easy," Garrus said, admiring his work.

"You can pat yourself on the back once we have Drek," Miranda called over her shoulder.

Shepard was pleased with the almost friendly bantering between Garrus and Miranda. He had been wary about using them together, even after they assured him of this supposed 'truce' that they had agreed to, for the sake of their mission against the Collectors. However, seeing them working together without need of cursing or staring and actually acting and speaking cordially with one another was a welcome sight for the Commander.

"We got more mercenaries incoming."

Miranda's warning brought Shepard out of his thoughts, looking up to see advancing Blue Suns beginning to flood the room from an adjoining door. Shepard found cover behind a stack of crates where he watched two mercenaries get picked apart by Miranda's impressive biotics. When the flooding mercenaries targeted Miranda from her exposed position, it was Garrus who was able to provide a round of cover fire, allowing the Operative enough time to find shelter behind a counter.

These mercenaries didn't lack confidence as they inched closer and closer towards Shepard's squad's position at the far side of the room. Their numbers gave them a key advantage by allowing them to provide heavy cover fire pinning down Shepard and company to allow their brethren to advance unopposed.

"You got any bright ideas, Shepard?" Garrus shouted, from his position a few meters away from Shepard.

"Yeah," Shepard gritted his teeth, unclipping a grenade, he risked a glance from his cover, and finding a potential target, he tossed the weapon, watching as it bounced along the floor before stopping at the feet of one of the turian Blue Suns. The mercenary had enough time to look down at what it stepped on before the grenade detonated, swallowing up the turian in an impressive fiery display while sending the handful of mercenaries around it flying backwards.

Shepard stood up, and unloaded his assault rifle with Miranda and Garrus quick to join in the assault now that they were no longer being pinned down. The trio made short work of the remaining mercenaries and when the last one fell to Shepard's rifle, he turned to his turian friend.

"Just follow my lead."

Garrus chuckled, shaking his head while he switched from his sniper rifle to his assault rifle. "Yeah, that only led me into an army of Geth."

"You survived," Shepard countered, holstering his rifle for his shotgun, expecting close range fighting once the squad arrived in the cafeteria. Not waiting for his friend's clever reply he moved forward towards the door that would lead them into the cafeteria. Sensing his presence, the doors opened to reveal a chaotic battle unfolding before him between the mechs and Blue Suns.

Even though the mechs seemed outnumbered, they were holding their own against the Blue Suns who were trying to break through the mech's ranks. He noticed that the mechs were centered at the opposite side of the cafeteria, protecting a door that Shepard was willing to bet that was where he would find Drek.

The nearest target for Shepard and company were the Blue Suns whose attention remained on the mechs, undistracted and unyielding as they tried to advance forward towards Drek's position.

Shepard was quick to take advantage of the element of surprise, lowering his shotgun; he opened fire on an unsuspecting Blue Sun who had been trying to take shelter from a mech onslaught. The round tore through the Blue Suns armor, the mercenary shouted in pain before collapsing on his stomach.

Miranda used a well placed Overload on a shielded Blue Suns legionnaire, who stumbled backwards from the surprised attack and jumping out of cover, he was quickly picked off by mechs. Garrus emptied a clip of his assault rifle into a trio of Blue Suns engineers who had been trying unsuccessfully to direct their drones against the mechs. Their light armor didn't stand a chance against Garrus' précised customary armor-piercing rounds, as the engineers slumped to the ground, their drones fizzling out of existence when the last engineer fell.

Shepard led them forward behind a row of turned over cafeteria tables, shielding them from the Blue Suns to their left and the mechs straight ahead of them. By now both sides were aware of Shepard's arrival, and the Blue Suns were more incensed by their intrusion, as several of their mercenaries peeled off their attack from the mechs to try to advance towards Shepard. The advance was slow as the mercenaries had to be patient and careful as they navigated through the cafeteria trying not to be picked off by the mechs or Shepard's own company.

"So which lethal enemy force should I be concentrating on, Shepard?" Garrus asked, crouching beside the Commander.

"Blue Suns," he answered, without hesitation, knowing that the mercenaries posed the more imminent threat to their mission.

Garrus gave him a nod, before switching back to his sniper rifle, resting it carefully in a nook on the table; he looked through the scope before opening fire on any encroaching mercenaries.

Miranda, who had taken cover on Shepard's other side, assisted in Garrus' sniper efforts by picking apart mercenaries who were trying to take shelter behind the large columns that supported the cafeteria.

Shepard, not wanting to be outdone by his two friends, took aim with his assault rifle and fired at the nearest mercenaries, pleased at the handful of mercenaries he had hit when it was time for him to empty his clip and reload.

With the combined effort of the mech's numbers and the skills of Shepard's elite company, the Blue Suns were overwhelmed and the two sides were able to make quick work of the remaining mercenaries. When the last Blue Sun fell, the mechs turned their focus on their position, but none of them made any attempt to open fire on any of them.

One of the mechs stepped forward, its unblinking red light gazing at Shepard as it spoke in its automated voice."Identify yourself."

"I'm Commander John Shepard."

The mech took a few seconds to process this information. "What is a human Spectre doing at this base?"

"I'm looking for Drek Vharad," Shepard answered, standing up from his position, he raised his hands to show that he meant no harm. He surveyed the surviving mechs, counting less than a dozen mechs including one heavy mech. All of them were gazing up at him with those unblinking red eyed gaze.

The door that the mechs had been so adamant on protecting from the Blue Suns, slid open to reveal a lone batarian dressed in Blue Suns armor stride out. The towering batarian was well armed, and as he walked deeper into the cafeteria and closer to Shepard, the mechs he passed were quick to trail behind him.

"Is that so?"

"Drek Vharad, I presume?" Shepard asked, studying the batarian, who stopped just below Shepard's position with the row of mechs standing behind him.

Drek gave a crisp nod, "I suppose I should be flattered that the Butcher of Torfan knows me by name."

"And grateful for saving your ass," Miranda glowered.

Drek looked at Miranda for barely a second before returning his four eyes to Shepard. "And who said, that I needed any help?"

Shepard crossed his arms before answering, "Cerberus."

Drek seemed to be reflecting on this information before slowly nodding. "It seems the rumors were true about your newfound allegiance, Shepard."

"That's right," Shepard agreed. "I'm building a team, and I need the best for this suicide mission and Cerberus believes that you're one such individual that I could use."

A look of amusement seemed to flitter across the batarian's features, but Shepard couldn't be too sure.

"So you're actually recruiting me?"

"Yeah," Shepard paused, looking at the mechs that the skilled batarian was controlling. It was hard to argue that this Legionnaire had the qualifications to join Shepard's team and if his AI hacking skills were any near as good as his other tech skills, then Shepard would be a fool to pass on him. "I suppose I am."

Drek chuckled, shaking his head, before offering the first human Spectre a shrug, "who am I to refuse an offer from the Butcher of Torfan?" He drew up his Omni-Tool, his fingers dancing on the interface and with a few clicks from his Omni-Tool. He looked back up to face Shepard. "I suggest we get going, this base is going to blow in ten minutes."

"Is there any particular reason why we need to blow up this base?" Miranda asked.

"Yeah," Drek answered, never taking his eyes off Shepard. "I need them to think, I'm dead."

Undeterred by the news of the base's imminent explosion, or Drek's insistence on faking his death, Shepard gestured to the door that he and the others had come through. "Then let's not waste a minute."

John Shepard surveyed his newest squad member with a stoic, cool demeanor while on the inside he couldn't deny a growing interest and curiosity for the Cerberus informant known as Drek. The batarian hadn't spoken a word to any of them since they left the Blue Suns base. Now the Commander, Miranda, Garrus, and Drek stood in silence within the communication room. Garrus and Miranda standing on one side of the table while Drek stood on the other with Shepard standing in front of the door; all eyes remained on the batarian, whose four eyes were surveying the room around him, before they rested on Shepard.

"This is quite some ship you have here, Shepard," Drek remarked, leaning against the wall. "I take it from the stares and the whispers that I'm the only batarian on-board?"

"That's right," Shepard nodded, "but you're not the only alien."

"I realized that," Drek gestured to Garrus, before his voice took an edge when he added. "Despite how your propaganda may depict my people, we are not so dim."

"I wasn't trying to insult you."

Drek clenched his jaw, his intimidating four eyed stare on Shepard, before nodding, his demeanor shifting away from hostility. "I reckon that there are other non-humans on-board as well?"

"Yes, we have a salarian scientist as well," Shepard revealed, relieved to move on from his previous misstep. "And I'm sure that we will be collecting a few more before this mission is done."

"You called this a suicide mission," Drek pointed out.

"That's what I was told it was."

"And you don't think it is?"

Shepard shrugged, "let's just say, I don't plan on dying."

Drek chuckled, "I like that," he then turned to Miranda and Garrus. "Do they not speak?"

Miranda frowned, but when she spoke, her tone was controlled. "I'm Miranda Lawson, the XO on this ship, and the personal liaison of the Illusive Man."

Miranda's introduction caused Drek's attention to remain on Miranda, surveying the operative closely. No doubt the Cerberus informant was interested and curious with her supposed position and close connection with the Head of Cerberus. "I'll remember that, since I have a few things I need to report to him."

"So you really are a Cerberus informant?" Garrus asked, not bothering to hide his disbelief at the possibility.

"I suppose, that's a difficult concept to accept," Drek remarked, "but, yes, I've been working for Cerberus these last two years."

"Is that why the Blue Suns were after you?" Hypothesized Shepard. "Did they realize that you had turned on them for Cerberus?"

"No, not at all," Drek answered. "They were after me, because a bounty was put on my head by the Hegemony."

"What did you do to piss off your government?"

Drek bristled at Shepard's question, a frown returning to his lips. "They're not my government."

Shepard held up his arms, detecting the hostility radiating from Drek by his previous question. "My apologies, I didn't mean to offend." Realizing, that this wasn't getting off to a good start, after his first two missteps with Drek, he hoped to clarify his curiosity and his position to the batarian. "But if we're going to work together, I need to know a little bit about you."

Drek relaxed his stance before nodding, looking to have agreed with Shepard's observation. "I suppose that's only fair, after all, I know so much about you."

"My reputation always seems to precede me, when it comes to your people," Shepard noted dryly. He had yet to come across a batarian that was unaware of Shepard's actions at either Elysium or Torfan.

The corner of Drek's lips tugged upwards, looking amused at his remark. "You have no idea, Shepard."

"Why was a bounty put on your head by the Hegemony?" Miranda asked, stepping into the conversation.

"Because it had recently come to their attention that I had taken some very important and secretive files from one of their government mainframes."

"What kind of information was contained on these files?"

"Very important ones," Drek responded. "I had already been made aware of the information on these files, years ago, but your Illusive Man wanted more information. He believed it was paramount to your fight against the Collectors."

Shepard's interest peeked with each passing answer Drek gave, as well as a level of annoyance since Drek seemed to want to take his time with sharing the important information.

"It's about the Collectors?" Garrus guessed.

"Oh, no," Drek shook his head. "It's more important than mere Collectors. Tell me Shepard are you familiar with the story of the Leviathan?"

Shepard frowned at the familiarly of the name, but was unable to place the story behind it, turning to Garrus and Miranda, neither offering any answer to Drek's question.

"In 2163 a ship was found in a crater on the planet known as Jartar in the Dis System. It's origins unknown, but the salarian researchers who briefly studied the ship estimated it to be over millions of years old. Shortly, after its discovery, a batarian dreadnought visited the Dis system, and the mysterious ancient ship was never seen again…"

"A Reaper," Shepard breathed at this startling revelation. All of his warnings, all of his evidence could against the Reapers paled in comparison to this actual, vivid and hopefully undeniable proof of their existence, and all this time it was being contained by the self-inflicting isolated government known as the Batarian Hegemony. If this ship or information could be used as actual proof to his claims of Sovereign and the pending Reaper invasion, then the Council could no longer look a blind eye and would be forced to take this situation seriously.

"Wait, a second," Garrus said, his talons scratching the underneath skin of his chin. "You mean to tell me, that the Batarian government has been actively studying a real Reaper these past years?"

"Yes," Drek affirmed. "It's the top-most secret in the government's archives. Very few of its politicians are even aware of its existence."

"Then how did you become aware of it?" Miranda asked, maintaining an indifferent façade at this starling news of an existing Reaper

Shepard noticed the subtle change in the batarian's expression and demeanor at Miranda's question. His fingers gripping the edge of the table, the glowering expression, and the darkening of his eyes. Shepard was sure that the batarian was trying to pent up some simmering anger that was threatening to break through, but why Drek was so angry or bothered was another thing entirely.

"My older brother," Drek growled, his mood was deteriorating rapidly. "He was a scientist studying the Leviathan in the early stages of its discovery….He believed the technology should be shared, the Hegemony disagreed."

Shepard didn't need the batarian to say the words to understand what he was referring to. Drek's brother was killed by disagreeing with his conservative and controlling government. The Commander was met with a dilemma, he was increasingly curious about the details of the Leviathan, but he also sensed the information involving the Reaper was incredibly sensitive and emotionally entangled with Drek. He reluctantly realized that at this moment, it would not be the best course of action to press the still unknowing variable and ally known as Drek. He knew that he would have plenty of time to hopefully further discuss the Leviathan and Drek's Cerberus dealings. He just had to be patient.

"Very well," Shepard cut-in on behalf of Drek, stepping around the table to approach Drek, while the batarian was watching him warily, but Shepard stopped within arm's reach of the Blue Suns Mercenary. He held out his hand. "Welcome to the team, Drek."

Drek studied Shepard's extended hand, before his eyes returned to Shepard, who noticed the lower set of the batarian's eyes were still on his hand, but Drek slowly extended his own hand and shook the Commander. "If the Batarian Hegemony hated me before, I'm sure they'll hate me even more knowing that I'm teaming up with you."

The Citadel was not at all as Shepard remembered it. The first human Spectre had already found himself lost a few times since he took to wandering along the districts alone, in the past hour. He had wanted some time to himself to prepare for his upcoming meeting with Anderson at the Presidium. However, his meeting with Anderson had been pushed back a few hours, but instead of returning to The Normandy to wait, Shepard had decided to explore the newly built areas of the Citadel.

A place which held so many complicated memories for the Commander. This was where the previous Citadel Council had made him the first human Spectre, this was where he fought and defeated Saren and Sovereign. However, there were no signs of the previous and desperate battle against the Geth which had killed millions, destroying countless buildings, and puncturing the myth that the Council and the Citadel were impenetrable.

In the time after beating Saren, thwarting Sovereign, and sacrificing the first Council, Commander Shepard had begun an intimate and complicated relationship with Cerberus Operative Miranda Lawson which started on this very station. Two years later, it had only become more complicated with her bringing him back to life and both of them assigned to this Suicide Mission. Even amidst the adversity stacked against them, they were both willing to try to pursue a relationship, because they both remembered their brief time spent together before his death. The unusual feelings of content, happiness, and pleasure that neither had experienced in other relationships, this had helped to drive the aloof Cerberus Operative and the Stoic Alliance Poster-Boy right into each other's arms.

Shepard had hoped that he would be able to spend some alone time with Miranda, while they were docked on the Citadel. Spending a quiet evening in one of the many opulent hotels in the Presidium District, putting the tab on Cerberus only sweetened the idea. Sadly, at the moment, Miranda was over- seeing some early upgrades onto the Normandy.

This included a new paint job. For reasons Shepard could only guess, Cerberus had decided to plaster their symbol on every wall, door, space, and crevice on the Normandy both inside and out. Seeing as they were a terrorist organization and were wanted by both the Council and the Alliance, Shepard knew that advertising Cerberus colors on his frigate would only lead to future problems. He was thankful when Miranda agreed to his request and decided to oversee the task herself, in removing the unneeded symbols of Cerberus on both the inside and outside of The Normandy.

He was aware of the realization that by agreeing to his request, it would make it impossible for him and her to sneak away in their brief stay within the Citadel. However, he would not dwell on the inconvenience, he still had much to accomplish in his brief visit to the Citadel and could not allow himself to get distracted.

He had been annoyed when he was first told that his meeting with Anderson had been pushed back an hour. He had thought about returning to the Normandy or seeking out Garrus to share a drink and a much needed conversation. His time in Omega had changed Garrus, and this betrayal from Sidonis may have permanently lost Shepard his oldest and most trusted friend…

Shepard sighed, rubbing his weary eyes while he continued his walk through the Presidium of the Citadel. He hadn't lost Garrus, nor did he tend to. He understood the conflicting whirlpool of emotions that raged within his friend, and he was not going to fault him for this anger or his need for vengeance on this Sidonis. Shepard was sure if their roles were reversed, and he was the one who was betrayed, that he too would seek out vengeance.

Shepard stopped in his stroll when he reached the railing, so that he could overlook the beauty of the Citadel Lake. He leaned on the railing, and was content in simply watching the clear water below. The peace that surrounded this place was deceptive, outside of this system; humans were disappearing in the thousands, and hundreds of thousands and soon to be millions. But around here, no one seemed to give a damn, not the Council, not the Alliance, not even the hundreds of thousands of humans who occupied this galactic capital. To them, it was nothing but an inconvenience to their perfect little lives, something to threaten and tear down this pseudo protection that they wrapped themselves in.

Sometimes, when Shepard looked back on that battle of the Citadel, he wondered if it had not been better if the geth had been successful in purging the station; removing every last life on this station, whether they were innocent or corrupt from this station. In hopes that maybe then, could they have successfully rebuilt on the ashes of those who had perished, that true justice could be allowed to flourish. Maybe then they learn from their mistakes and force themselves to confront the ugly reality that stood in front of them. But they didn't, and because the same people were still in charge, the cycle was allowed to repeat itself.

These were the dark and desperate thoughts of a bitter soldier who had been the target of praise and scorn to these types of people. He had won the hearts and adulation of so many after his 'heroic' stand at Elysium, but those same people who had cheered and heaped praise upon him, turned against him after Torfan. They saw him as a Butcher, who on that moon in that horrible battle, they claimed he was a man who had fallen in love with his own legacy, and in doing so had allowed his platoon to all but be wiped out.

He pushed away those thoughts, not wanting a headache before his meeting with Anderson. He stared down at his reflection, remembering the time when he came here after Eden Prime. A battle that had thrust him back into the spotlight, and back into focus for public and political dissection. He was a soldier, who had survived a terrible battle only to be dropped into an even more savage and bloodthirsty arena-politics.

Those had been dark times for Commander John Shepard, but in that time, he had found a friend. Someone who offered him a gift, an encouraging reminder of what lay ahead of him, of what was asked of him, and what was needed of him. It had been this refreshing voice and perspective which helped the stoic Commander regain his clarity and return his efforts into stopping Saren. The reminder of this particular friend brought a smile to his lips and a destination for him to get to, taking one last look at the peaceful lake. He headed back into the Presidium District.

He had never forgotten the brief, but impactful words she had given him after he had helped her in a very delicate and personal matter.

"I offer a gift of words, an affirmation of who you are, and who you will become. I see you, your uniform fits as though you were born wearing it. You are a soldier through and through."

He was the son of two Alliance Officers. A boy who spent his youth on warships and frigates, around marines and officers, lived throughout the galaxy within numerous bases. Battle, war, strategy, duty, order, discipline, this was what his childhood education consisted of. He had enlisted on his eighteenth birthday, from there he excelled in his education and training, and would be one of the few who successfully graduated from the famously difficult, but highly touted N-7 program.

"Proud, solitary, alone-

A wall between you and everyone else, but it protects you, makes you strong. It is that strength that people are drawn to, it is why you lead and others follow without question. You will need that leadership in the battles to come."

His accomplishments had made him proud, and the difficulty and pressure that his life offered him, made it easier for him to push others away. Making it difficult for him to have a deep personal relationship or any deep friendships inside or outside of the Alliance; so instead, the Commander chose to isolate himself. Her last sentence rang particularly true to him, knowing that without his leadership he would have been unable to stem the tide at Elysium. He would have been unable to rally civilians to stop the raiders. Knowing that without his leadership, he wouldn't have been successful in stirring confidence within his own men, within his platoon, to believe and follow him against all odds in the trenches of Torfan.

"This may be who you are, but it is not who you will become. It only forms the basis for your future greatness.

Remember these words when doubt descends, Commander."

Evidence in these words was beginning to appear in his life. The stoic and distant Commander had been slowly lowering his guard and allowing select few individuals in. Miranda, Garrus, Wrex, Liara, Tali, Joker, were the immediate names to come to mind, further strengthening her words. He did take strength and comfort in the presence of his friends, learning to rely and trust on them during his days of chasing Saren.

He took strength in these words, remembering his own doubts and confusion in the beginning of his relationship with Miranda. Unsure about the emotional entanglements that could result in an ensuing relationship with the Cerberus Operative, but his doubts had been misleading. He had been wrong in thinking about cutting her off, because in his brief time with her, in both the time before his death and his resurrection, it was with her that he felt the most himself, the most at peace.

Shepard's dwelling on Miranda and the Consort's words were put aside once he arrived at the Consort's Chambers. He had been warmly greeted, and given a private booth and a glass of water as one of the Consort's handmaidens promised to seek out the Consort, to inform her of his arrival.

He sipped his water, thankful for the privacy that his booth offered him. Upon looking around the waiting area, and seeing the multitude of clients, he had begun rethinking his spontaneous visit. Seeing so many clients waiting for the Consort, he couldn't help but wonder if she would have time to even see him, before he was drawn away to his meeting with Anderson.

He thought about just abandoning his idea and leaving, instead of wasting his remaining hour simply waiting in this over-crowded waiting area. It was a tempting offer, but upon remembering the news which he wanted to give her, he decided to remain. After she had given him those stirring words, she had handed him a trinket of unknown origin and unusual craft, telling him that it had been in her presence long enough and feeling it was time to pass it on to someone else.

At the time, Shepard wasn't very impressed with the gift, and had been further compensated by the Consort, who had given Shepard a more intimate and physical gift for her gratefulness. He had never been particularly attracted to asari, but the Consort had been different. He had found himself drawn to the strong and sensual presence of Sha'ira. She would be the first and only asari that he had been with, leaving him with an experience unlike any other…

Not wanting to dwell on his past intimate encounters with the Consort, Shepard shifted his attention by studying the clients around him. They mainly consisted of humans, asari, and turians, but he did spot a volus and an elcor at the far end of the room. As well as a pair of salarians on a sofa who at the moment were being entertained by one of the many asari acolytes or handmaidens.

These acolytes of the Consort were mainly asari, and tended to the clients. They personally devoted time to those clients who would be unable to personally meet with the Consort. This time could be spent in a number of ways, including conversation, massages, entertainment and other means of 'pampering.'

"Commander?"

Shepard looked up at the acolyte who had approached him, recognizing the face of the blue skinned asari, a name soon came to his memory-Nelyna. He had gotten to know this particular acolyte because she was usually the one positioned at the entrance to greet coming clients.

She smiled when their eyes met, "She will see you now."

Shepard nodded his thanks, finishing the rest of his water in one sip; getting up from his booth, he followed the acolyte to the Consort's Chambers. It was just as he remembered, walking up a long stairwell and crossing through a lush garden before arriving at the two doors that led to the personal chambers of the Consort.

Nelyna stepped aside to allow Shepard to pass, offering him a friendly smile when he walked by, before bowing her head once the doors to the chambers opened.

He tentatively walked into the private chambers of Sha'ira, spotting the asari consort at once. She was standing by the tinted window, overlooking the Presidium. She was dressed in her soft-colored robes which accentuated her curves. Her hands were gently clasped behind her back, and when she turned to face him, a soft smile came to her pink lips.

"Shepard," she said, in a musical voice.

He returned her smile, offering her a nod, but made no attempt for the usual embrace the two would share during his past visits. He brought his hands behind his back, looking around her room, noticing it looked much the same as it did, the last time he saw her.

The glass covered bed tucked away in a corner, while the opposite corner was furnished with a pair of comfortable, soft sofas which were separated by an ornate, glass table. Trinkets and statues from numerous cultures and species were on display throughout her room. These no doubt came from previous suitors who rewarded the consorts these gifts as thanks for her services.

"I had heard rumors that you're preparing to leave the Citadel?"

She gestured to a pair of asari statues at her side, "as you can see, I still haven't done my packing."

He nodded, watching as she approached him with careful, well timed steps.

"I had heard rumors of your death, but it seems like my own rumors that they have been greatly exaggerated."

He sighed, shaking his head, but made no attempt to clarify her correct her words. Even though he considered her a friend, he didn't want to relive his death or retell the story of his rebirth, not now, anyway.

She hid her curiosity and disbelief well, when she was close enough, she embraced him, but sensing his stiffness, she pulled away after a few seconds. Her blue eyes surveying him closely, before the corner of her mouth tugged upwards, before placing a hand on her hips. "Who's the lucky woman, Shepard?"

Shepard could only smile at her astute observation, before shaking his head, to tell her that at the moment, he was not willing to divulge the details of his personal affairs with a certain Cerberus Operative...

"No matter, Shepard," she said softly, her eyes sincere, when she added. "It's still good to see you."

"Likewise," he returned, before allowing her soft hands to grab his elbow and gently lead him to the pair of sofas. He took the one lined against the wall, while she took the other.

"Can I interest you in anything to drink?" She gestured to the intricately painted pottery cups on the table between them.

He shook his head, "No, I'm fine, I don't have long."

"Well, I'm glad you decided to see me," she remarked genuinely.

"I wanted to see you," he said, before clarifying. "I wanted to tell you about the trinket you had given me."

"Oh?" Sha'ira asked; her elegantly drawn eye brows furrowed. It was clear of all the things she was expecting for them to discuss that had not been one of them.

"Yes, I actually found the purpose to it," he revealed.

"Really?" asked Sha'ira, unable to keep the curiosity out of her tone.

"It was Prothean," he explained. "It was a key, in which I used to unlock a Prothean ruin on Eletaina."

"Fascinating," she marveled. "What did you find?"

Shepard instinctively scratched the back of his neck, recalling the vivid pain he had felt from the vision he had received from the Prothean device. "I was given a vision."

Sha'ira leaned closer to him, enthralled by his answer, but clearly wasn't satisfied if her next question was any gauge. "What did it show you?"

"Humans," answered Shepard simply, seeing her confusion, he added. "What we were like fifty thousand years ago, when the Protheans were studying us."

"Remarkable," she breathed.

Shepard nodded, agreeing with the simple but accurate word to best describe the experience. He leaned back in his seat, allowing himself to recall the experience which the trinket had given him. "It…it was remarkable," he paused. "I…I was one of those humans."

She frowned, "pardon?"

"It transported me into one of the humans." He stopped, to make sure she was following, a polite nod from her signaled that she was and that she wanted to know more, he acquiesced. "I experienced what they were experiencing. I saw what they saw, heard what they heard. For that brief moment, I had been transported to an Earth 50,000 years ago."

She smiled, leaning back in her seat, "It must have been an incredible experience." Her blue eyes deep in thought, signaling she was reflecting on what he had shared with her, a ghost of a smile remained on her pink lips.

"It was," he said, reflecting back on the time. He and Liara had gone down to explore the ruins after discovering the site when they were looking for an Alliance Satellite. The two had chosen to go alone, because they shared a passionate interest in history, and were both eager in wanting to look and study the ruins.

To Shepard it was a reminder of a time during his mission with Saren when he was able to enjoy himself and those he had surrounded himself with, including Liara. Recalling the times the soldier and archaeologist would get together and teach one another different histories. Liara would teach Shepard Prothean and Asari history, while he taught her human history, focusing on humanity' before they were a space faring people.

He remembered how worried Liara had been when he had awoken from his vision induced blackout. Remembering how that worry was then replaced with excitement when he shared with her what he had seen from the point of view of humans. She had speculated that the vision he had received from the Prothean Beacon on Eden Prime and the cipher from Feros had given him the ability to access the Eletaina ruins because they had believed him to be Prothean.

"Thank you, Shepard," she said, her soft, musical voice puncturing through Shepard's memories of Eletaina. "I'm honored and grateful that you decided to personally share this with me."

He shrugged, "I thought it was a better story in person then over an email."

She smiled at his joke, and nodded in agreement. "It was." Her eyes took a more serious hue, and her expression became pensive, before her blue eyes found his. "I'm actually glad you've come."

"Because of the story?"

She shook her head, her hands smoothing over invisible wrinkles on the front of her robes. "When I had been told of your death, I had thought my gift of words had been incorrect. This went beyond any feelings of embarrassment or doubt in my gifts, because in that time, I was not worried of my perception but of you…"

"Sha'ira?" Shepard asked, patiently, unsure what his friend was trying to communicate.

Her fingers stopped in the needless attempt at ironing out her already smooth robes. "I grieved your death, Shepard. In your absence did I realize that I had not lost a client, but a friend, and seeing you before me, it is like a direct gift from the Goddess herself."

He reached over the table, gently grabbing one of her soft hands and giving it a friendly, but firm squeeze. The action caused her blue eyes to meet his. Her eyes shimmered with the truth and sincerity that her words were echoing with the same real, genuine emotion.

"But in seeing you, I sense that you head toward an even deeper darkness."

She had no idea, how right she was, he mused, reflecting on the Suicide mission in front of him, but he remained silent, allowing her to continue with her speech.

"When you fought Saren, only your resolve was tested, but now I fear you cannot rely only on your own strength. Take whatever steps you must to ensure that those battling at your side will fight with clear minds and glad hearts."

The images of Jacob, Mordin, and Drek came to his mind, as well as the countless other dossiers of those he had yet to recruit. He saw the wisdom in her advice, knowing that he could and should secure trusts and even friendships with those he was going to surround himself for this pending Suicide Mission. Realizing that he was going to need more than just his strength to defeat the Collectors, he was going to need everyone working together.

"I will," he vowed.

Shepard had finished his meeting with Anderson which included a brief conversation with the newly formed Council, who were being led by human Councilor, Donnel Udina. A man, who was quickly rising through the ranks of the list of people Shepard despised. After finishing his meeting with the Council and Anderson, and not wanting to try their limited 'hospitality,' Shepard had ordered the Normandy to leave upon his return.

He had retreated to the sanctuary of his cabin, but he was not alone. He had given a summary of his talks with Anderson and the Council with Miranda and Garrus. The former was pacing furiously in front of his fish tank, while the latter was casually lounging on one of the sofas which formed an L. Shepard had made himself comfortable on the other sofa.

According to them, he had been overtly-traumatized from his ordeal with Saren. With this convenient excuse and his absence these last two years, they had no need or desire to investigate his claims of Reapers or the pending invasion. They had allowed themselves to bury their heads in the sand, refusing to even acknowledge any ounce of credence to his story. Wanting to make him an example, they were quick to rule that he was no longer fit to represent the Council, and therefore was unable to remain a Spectre.

"At least they didn't try to arrest you," Garrus pointed out, puncturing Shepard's lingering bitter thoughts of the Council and their ruling.

"I'm sure they wanted to," Shepard replied, knowing their desire to see him locked up must have only increased when they realized that he was now working with Cerberus. "Give it time."

"You're right," Garrus agreed. "Your luck always goes from bad to worse."

"Thanks for the pep-talk, Garrus," Shepard replied dryly. "I feel so much better now."

Garrus chuckled, stretching out his arms on the sofa to make himself more comfortable, "makes you realize just how pointless all these politicians and politics really are."

"Agreed," Shepard said, knowing that he was sure to have received the same treatment had the previous Council survived. He was aware that even with a replacement of Udina with a staunch supporter like Anderson wouldn't amount to much, because of the politics in place.

Miranda had stopped in her pacing, so that she could face the turian and human who were both comfortably sitting on the couches. "The Alliance has not been much better. They have become the lapdog of the Council, begging at their heels, ready and eager for their table scraps. They care more for their place in the galaxy then they do in preserving humanity."

"I know," Shepard agreed, "that's why I resigned from the Alliance this afternoon."

"You what?"

"You're kidding right, Shepard?"

He calmly looked up at his two friends, Miranda had been so surprised by his revelation that the usual controlled and schooled Operative didn't bother to hide her dismay at the news of his decision.

Garrus' mandibles twitched in surprise, his small blue eyes blinking with bemusement at this revelation.

"That was the same reaction Anderson gave me," Shepard deadpanned. He had been surprised by how easy it had been for him to resign his position from the Alliance. Their handling of both himself and the Reapers had made it an easy decision for the Alliance Major to make. He would not allow himself to be bogged down by either the Alliance or the Citadel. He had a job to do, and was not going to allow anyone to get in his way in his duty in stopping the Collectors and Reapers.

"If the Alliance gets their shit together, then I'll be willing to work with them for the greater good in stopping the Reapers," Shepard clarified his position, holding the option open of a cordial reunion between the two sides. "But I believe this works best for everyone, the Alliance gets me out of their hands, and I no longer have to be hamstrung by their dealings with the Reapers."

"You quit just like that?" asked Garrus. "And Anderson just accepted it?"

"In part," answered Shepard. "He told me that my resignation would be pending for a few weeks to allow me a chance to change my mind, but I don't think that will happen."

"You're very casual about this," Miranda observed, crossing her arms, as her icy blue eyes examined him.

"I'm not the same person I was when I joined the Alliance," he responded, with a shrug. "And the Alliance is not the same organization I thought they were."

"Well," Garrus began, "I can't fault you for quitting the Alliance, since I quit C-Sec."

"We had our reasons," Shepard pointed out.

Garrus nodded, "you can only handle so much shit thrown at you."

"Charming," Miranda drawled, with a roll of her eyes.

Shepard chuckled, "not quite the image I had in mind, but I agree with the sentiment behind it."

"I don't know what's worse, the Reapers or the politicians," Garrus remarked, breaking the jovial silence that had fallen on the three with his own sobering observations. "I mean at least the Reapers are honest with their intentions."

"It makes you wonder," Shepard replied, "if perhaps Sulla, Caesar, and even Napoleon were right."

"Who?" asked a confused Garrus. The turian unrehearsed in the histories of mankind turned a puzzled expression in Shepard's direction.

"They were dictators," clarified Shepard, who had spent a good amount of his free time over the years studying the history of humanity. In those readings, he would come across ambitious and brilliant men who rose to power, in trying to fix the Republics that granted them power, they dismantled them. At this moment, Shepard couldn't deny how alluring the thought was in overthrowing the Council, to install someone who could get results. This someone who would combat the Reapers; make the hard choices that were needed to combat the unparallel evil that the Reapers represented.

"Could you make those choices, Shepard?" asked Miranda. The Cerberus Operative had mostly been silent during the conversation, resigned to allowing Shepard and Garrus do most of the talking and in their case, joking. She was leaning against Shepard's fish tank, her arms folded, her eyes on him while she waited for an answer.

He looked up to meet her intensive blue stare, clasping his hands together before resting them on his lap, he sat up straighter, mulling over Miranda's question. He was not new to making difficult choices. Besides the one he was most famous for at Elysium, Torfan, Virmire, the Citadel, there were other choices he made that were just as difficult.

On Feros, he sacrificed the colonists, by killing them in order to stop the Thorian. They had become thralls, obedient and hostile obstacles for the Thorian to throw at Shepard and his squad. He couldn't allow them to stand aside in his duty to stop the Thorian, so he killed them, and when he did, there was no hesitation.

He thought about the possible scenarios and the choices that he would be faced in this supposed Reaper war, aware that casualties of both military and civilian were sure to be high, but he also understood that sometimes in order to win, sacrifices must be made, "Yeah, without hesitation."

"Well then, I'll start printing up flyers for your campaign," Garrus joked.

Shepard smirked, "How about, Shepard/Vakarian, calibrating a better future, today."

Garrus laughed, "I like it." Still wearing, an amused expression, he stood up, stretching his arms while he did. He stepped away from the sofas. "But your joke reminded me of something."

Miranda shifted her gaze to the turian, "What's that?"

"I got to do some calibrations on the cannons."

Shepard rolled his eyes, unable to resist the urge, while the corners of his lips tugged upwards. "I'd hate to keep ya."

Garrus gave what could have passed as a cordial nod to Miranda, before passing the Cerberus Operative and heading to the doors, before calling over his shoulders. "Sorry, Shepard, but someone has to work on this ship."

Shepard had no time for a rebuttal since the turian was gone. His response died on his lips when the doors closed shut behind Garrus, leaving the Commander alone with the XO. A small smile still on his lips from the exchange of teasing taunts between himself and his turian comrade, when he turned his focus on the unusually silent Miranda. She had a pensive expression, her blue eyes looked distant, revealing that she was probably deep in thought, but knowing Miranda, it wasn't just one thought, but probably several.

"I almost didn't recognize the ship," Shepard remarked, referring to the new paint job, which had removed the countless and pointless symbols of Cerberus that had been stamped throughout the inside and outside of the ship.

Miranda eyes snapped back into the present, before focusing on Shepard, a smile forming on her lips. "I will admit that Cerberus went a bit overboard."

"A bit?" repeated Shepard, pushing himself out of his seat. "One or two Cerberus symbols would have been 'a bit.'  They put dozens up, not to mention the large one on the outside of the ship."

She shook her head, fighting off an amused expression, while she watched him approach her. "Fair point," She mused.

He smiled, leaning in to whisper, "can we expect privacy?"

"No interruptions," she promised, her fingers trailing down his unscarred cheek, before her lips sought his for a searing kiss. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her smaller frame while she deepened the kiss.

"Good," he breathed, after breaking the kiss, his fingers gently went up her arm, before finding the strap on her cat-suit at the back of her neck, which covered up her zipper. "Because I just noticed another Cerberus symbol that has to go," He added, beginning to tug her zipper down.

Miranda gently kissed along his jaw-line, before her lips were at his ear, she purred. "We can't have that, Commander."

Chapter Text

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"Hold still, Shepard."

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To Miss Lawson,

Following up your request we've confirmed the destruction of all recording devices in the Normandy's med-lab. The area has been thoroughly scrubbed, and any attempt to boot up secondary devices has failed. Per your instructions the Illusive Man has been notified and has declined your request to install new equipment.

From,

Cerberus Command

Just great, mused the very frustrated XO of the Normandy. Miranda's task was to monitor and report Shepard's conditions and interactions throughout this mission against the Collectors. And now she was being inhibited in doing her duty if she was unable to get access to the med lab. Her difficulties were only piling up as was her stress; in no small part due to her feelings towards the Commander and their growing relationship. It was a relationship that at times Miranda would best classify as confusing, challenging, and conflicting.

Enough, she would not allow herself to get distracted. And at the moment her focus wasn't on her relationship with Shepard, but at trying to figure out what he was up to. She exited out of her message screen, releasing her disappointment towards her superior, realizing that holding onto such feelings would do nothing for her.

Shepard was up to something…She knew this, but what was frustrating the calm, and stoic Cerberus Operative was not being able to figure out what he was doing. She had little information, and the only facts she had were the several instances of seeing Mordin, Chakwas, and Shiala hosting some sort of meeting within the med lab, these meetings sometimes lasting hours. In the past week, Shiala has spent more time in the med lab than anywhere else on the ship. In the handful of missions they had done since helping Drek out on Lorek, the green skinned asari had not been selected for any of them, neither had the salarian scientist.

When she first noticed the inclusion of Mordin into the med lab with Shepard and Chakwas, Miranda believed Shepard was trying to get a second opinion on his scars. They were getting worse. Red and blistery, these scars stretched across his cheeks and necks resembling an angry glowing spider web. It was an unexpected side effect of the Lazarus Project. Reading Kelly's psych reports and Miranda's own interactions confirmed the yeoman's theory that the scars were obviously bothering Shepard. However, after further observations in the past week, she had to dismiss the theory.

It wasn't Shepard spending his time in the med lab, but Mordin and Shiala. It was the inclusion of the green skinned asari that had her curious. She believed Shiala, not Shepard was the center of whatever it was they were doing. Which at the moment was very difficult to tell, even more so since the Illusive Man had vetoed her recommendation of installing new recording devices in the med lab.

It may center on Shiala, but Miranda wasn't quick to dismiss the important part Shepard played in all of this. He was going to great lengths to conceal his work. He seemed determined to keep this secret between himself, Mordin, Chakwas, and Shiala. That alone stirred a handful of uneasy and conflicting feelings within her. The one feeling that seemed to transcend over the others was that if she was honest with herself, it hurt her. It stung. And she knew that it shouldn't.

She tried to reason away these confusing emotions. Rationalizing that they were both independent people who strove to protect their privacy and maintain impassive demeanors around those who they were not close to. That did little to comfort her.

Then she tried a different tactic. Reminding herself who was she to be hurt by Shepard's secrets when she too had kept many things from him and still was keeping things from him. At the top of that list had been the fact that she had a twin sister, and it was only through her father's interference had she divulged that to him. And if she was honest with herself if her father hadn't posed a threat to Oriana, Miranda wasn't sure she would have told Shepard about her sister. She had been in no rush to divulge her most guarded secret.

"Miss Lawson?"

"Yes, EDI?" Miranda asked, thankful for the distraction.

"Commander Shepard is requesting your presence in the communication room."

"Thank you, EDI," she replied, "Can you inform the Commander I'm on my way up."

"Of course, Miss Lawson," EDI responded, "Is there anything else?"

"No, that's all," Miranda said, getting up from behind her desk.

"Logging you out, Miss Lawson," the AI's avatar disappearing.

It seemed Miranda hadn't been the only one summoned to see Shepard. The room was crowded with the rest of the companions. However, she was quick to note that neither Mordin nor Shiala were in attendance. In fact they were the only ones missing.

"Bout time, Cheerleader," greeted Jack, her arms crossed, leaning against the wall trying to put as much distance between herself and the closest companion. It was no small feat since the room wasn't very large.

Miranda ignored her. Walking alongside the table, she noticed that like Jack the others were giving her a wide berth. It seemed neither she nor Jack were very popular with their squad-mates. It wasn't a comparison she wanted to dwell on, so she pressed on until stopping at the end of the table across from Shepard, giving her a good view of the terminal and the holo-projection hovering over the table.

She sent a covert glance towards the Commander. The marks across his face were getting worse. The scars glowed a fierce red resembling thin tendrils stretching across his cheeks and down his neck. His once handsome face was marred by them. His strong jaw was covered by these red scars that slithered across like vines. The orange tint of the markings glowed softly beneath his dark stubble. His ensnaring blue eyes had not escaped the devastation. The scars had climbed up his face, seeping in to muddle his once bright blue eyes. They had degenerated, leading to glowing sections to appear within the irises.

It was a grisly sight to take in, but Miranda's stare did not waver. She cared for him in ways she would've thought impossible years ago when they first met. He meant more to her than she was willing to admit, because it frightened her. Even now, when they were together, she bottled up these emotions, tried to suppress them, only giving him glimpses or moments. And seeing him in front of her in his condition made her heart reach out to him. She was worried, concerned for him, but not about his appearance, but his health, his state of mind.

A difficult line to believe, but nonetheless it was true. Someone with her looks, her beauty, her background, was expected to be some sort of superficial, shallow person. That was what was expected of her, but Miranda Lawson learned long ago, not to meet the expectations of those that did not matter.

He seemed to sense her gaze since he turned to face it. His face stoic, his eyes sharp, his jaw clenched, as if challenging her to look away either out of embarrassment of being caught or disgust at what she saw. She did not. She felt neither. It was something else that stirred within her. It was-

"Shepard?"

He turned away from her and towards Garrus. He recovered smoothly, his eyes sweeping across the room to make sure everyone was present. Miranda subtly shifted her gaze away from him and towards the terminal, but she made sure to keep him within eyesight.

"We've caught a break," Shepard said to break the silence that had engulfed the room. "EDI?"

The ship's AI avatar appeared in its usual position, coming on simultaneously was the holo-projection and to Miranda's and everyone else's surprise was the image of the Collector Ship.

"A turian patrol made contact with a Collector Ship, the turians were wiped out, but not before they crippled the vessel. We're on our way to the system now."

"Where did we get this information?" Garrus asked. "I doubt the turians shared this news willingly."

"Cerberus intercepted their distress call."

Made sense, Miranda silently agreed. She was aware of the Cerberus agents whose job it was to monitor the frequencies of the other species' governments. This was one of the reasons why Cerberus had yet to be brought down by one of the Council races. It was illegal, but it was self preservation on their part to monitor the turians, asari, and salarians specifically, realizing that they were their greatest threat.

"What about the Hierarchy?" The turian pressed forward. "Won't they send their own response?"

"It's being delayed," Shepard answered, "So that we can get there first."

"And do what?" Drek asked, leaning against the table, his four eyes on the projection of the collector vessel. "Give them a jump start?"

"We're going to board the vessel," Shepard revealed. "We need information on the Collector homeworld and how to navigate the Omega 4 relay. This is our best chance."

"How damaged was the ship?" Jacob asked, pushing his hands off of the table, and shaking his head. He didn't look convinced, and looking around the room, Miranda could see others seemed to be sharing his wariness. "It's hard to believe a turian patrol could take out that ship."

Miranda was inclined to agree with her fellow Cerberus Operative. The Collectors had advanced technology that was on full display in their weapons and ships. It had successfully destroyed the first Normandy, and during Horizon it had been able to escape being pummeled by AA cannons with little to no damage. So how was it possible a turian patrol could have successfully disabled one of these vessels?

"From the reports we've gathered, the hull is still intact, but all their systems are offline," Shepard explained. "They could be working on repairs now, that is why it is paramount we go in."

He must have sensed some of the wariness of the others as he closed out of the terminal. The projection of the Collector ship fizzling out, he put his hands behind his back as he addressed the room. "I won't lie to you. This mission will be extremely dangerous, but make no mistake I am confident that we can get in, get what we need, and kick some Collector ass."

Miranda looked around to see his words sinking in with the other members of their squad. A ripple of agreement spread through them. Signs of wariness were beginning to fade; doubts and concerns from expressions were being lifted and replaced with determination and confidence. This was Shepard's greatest strength. This was his greatest gift. This was how he had been able to rally the colonists at Elysium to thwart the massive strike from pirates and slavers. This was how he was able to convince the first Normandy crew to follow him to Ilos despite the consequences. It was an impressive sight to behold.

"This is why you're all here. It is our turn to strike. The tides are turning, and soon it will be the Collectors who are reeling. Just like with Horizon, we will test ourselves against them, and we will triumph. Let them know that we will not go quietly. We will not allow them to harvest us. This is the beginning of the end for the Collectors and their reign of terror."

"Entering the ship?" Garrus repeated, his mandibles twitched, but the turian's expression was impossible to decipher as his small blue eyes fixed on the projection. "We've done crazier things."

"Bringing the fight to the Collectors?" Grunt asked, a deep rumbling laugh ensued before he slapped his fist against his chest plate, and his face split into a smile, "I like it."

"Many lives can be saved if we can stop them," Thane agreed, the drell assassin had his hands clasped behind his back, and head lowered. "That alone is worth the risk."

Jacob hesitantly nodded his agreement, but Miranda wasn't sure if his hesitancy was towards the mission itself or that it was rooted to him agreeing with the assassin's reasoning.

"I'm with you, Shepard," Tali proclaimed.

"Hell, why not," Jack shrugged.

"I'm game," Drek agreed.

Satisfied, that the squad was with him. "We should be arriving shortly, get your gear and meet me in the hangar." He took a few strides towards the door, before stopping and turning back to face them. "We're entering the abyss," he announced. His words casual, his expression serious, his walk determined as he left the room, the others trickling out behind him.

Miranda lingered alone, reflecting on Shepard's choice of words to describe the Collector Ship. It reminded her of something she read long ago back when she was under her father's tutelage. Something that stuck with her throughout her time with Cerberus, a lesson she never could forget.

"Whoever fights with monsters should see to it that does not become a monster in the process. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you."*

Reflecting on the passage, her thoughts drifted to Shepard and his perilous fight against the Reapers and Collectors. Reading Shepard's strategy, the tactics and choices he was willing to make to stop them, the ruthlessness that would be needed in order to prevail. The toll from the choices he's already made was beginning to show in his appearance and psyche. And In her heart she wondered would Shepard truly become them in order to destroy them? She had her answer as quickly as she posed the question. Yet, it brought her no comfort just more conflict.

The first thing Miranda thought when she stepped out of the shuttle and into the Collector Ship was the resemblance it had with some sort of insect hive. It was like stepping into a sauna. It was moist and humid. She felt a sense of foreboding cling to her like a shadow. Clicks and clatter, hisses and what sounded like moans reverberated off the walls, echoing from the darkness. The sources of these eerie noises were hidden in the shadows where the dim lights of the ship could not reach.

"Never seen a ship like this before," Grunt grumbled beside her. The tank bred krogan held his shotgun tight, while his eyes stared into the darkness, vigilant for any signs of the enemy.

"I love what they've done with the place," Garrus remarked dryly. The turian was up ahead with Thane and Jacob, Shepard, Drek, and Jack followed them with Miranda, Grunt, and Tali serving as rear guard. Neither the krogan nor the quarian were talking, both taking in their surroundings of the vessel, not that Miranda was about to complain, she preferred silence to superfluous noise such as pointless chatter. Yet, she wasn't given true silence since up a head Shepard and Drek were talking, but she was only really half listening to their conversation.

"So it's all set up?"

"Yeah," replied the batarian, "the program was successfully downloaded and installed into your omni-tool."

"So it should work?"

"I linked it myself," Drek assured him, "Just be careful, Shepard with voice commands. You need to speak clearly and precisely."

"Yeah, Shepard we don't need you to accidently summon your combat drone on us…again," Garrus pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah," Shepard said, a hint of amusement seeped into his otherwise clipped tone. "EDI, do you have that report for me?"

"Yes, Commander," was the ship's AI's reply, crackling in Miranda's earpiece. "Ladar scans do not detect any hull breaches on the side facing us. I detect no mass effect field distortions. It appears the drive core is offline."

The squad was slow and steady as they made their way through the disabled collector vessel. The corridors were mostly plunged in shadows with scant light provided for them, causing them to use the lights on their suit to see where they were going. Moisture could be seen dripping from the ceilings, and trickling down the walls, the earth tone material that made up this ship looked to be organic.

"Where's the salarian?" Garrus mused, "I'm sure he would love a place like this to study."

"He has other research to complete," Shepard answered in a tone that signaled the topic was closed for discussion.

"Penetrating scans have detected an access node to uplink with Collector Databases," EDI's voice returned in their earpieces, "Marking location to your hardsuit computer."

Sure enough, Miranda heard the soft bing in her ear from her own hardsuit computer signaling that she had received the coordinates.

"Thanks, EDI," Shepard replied, "Anything else you can tell us?"

"Yes, I have compared this ship's EM signature to known Collector profiles. This is the vessel you encountered on Horizon."

"Maybe the defense turrets softened it up for the turians?" Shepard surmised, but he didn't sound convinced of the theory.

"The missing colonists might still be on-board," Garrus observed, "If they're still alive."

"This isn't a rescue mission," Shepard replied. "Our mission is securing information and other valuable intel on the Collectors."

"Understood, Commander," After the turian's reply, silence fell on the squad as they climbed another steep embankment. At the top of the mound Miranda noticed an ethereal glow hovering above the area. As they reached the top they found the source of the light. It was the pods that the Collectors used to transport the colonists.

Stepping closer to investigate the containers, Miranda felt a chill go up her spine at the thought of being trapped in one of these tubes; fully conscious, but paralyzed, and left to the whim of the mysterious but very dangerous Collectors. It was a terrible fate, and a fate that was being shared with far too many human colonists. The Alliance didn't see that, Cerberus did. It was Cerberus who was making strides in trying to stop the Collectors, while the Alliance continued to deny the Reapers and the Collector threat.

"It's small like my tank," Grunt grumbled.

Jack kept her distance from the pod, a dark, wary look in her eyes. The biotic convict looked to be on edge, muttering under her breath before she turned and left the area. Her behavior and reaction was unsurprising for Miranda, remembering how they found Jack in purgatory, in a cryo pod. It seemed these Collector tubes brought on uncomfortable memories for the convict.

The squad didn't linger long on the discarded pods moving forward and deeper into the bowels of the disabled Collector vessel. They hadn't gone very far before they discovered another grisly scene. Molded, stacked, and morphed together was a large mound of human bodies. Limbs, heads, torsos, all of them mixed together to form a sickening sight. The flesh varied in stages of decay. Hands and feet poked out of the mound of bodies,

"This is bad," Garrus said, the disgust clear in his voice.

"That's a lot of meat," Grunt observed grimly.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Jacob said, backing away.

Miranda's stomach clenched and churned. Wondering what the Collectors gained from doing this atrocious act. Were these simply rejects to their experiments, or was this the culmination and fate for every colonist they abducted? It was difficult for the Cerberus Operative to fathom.

Shepard was the only one who approached the pile of bodies. Crouching down and surveying the pieces of human flesh, he was silent in his studies. Leaving Miranda to only wonder what was going through his head as he took in this abhorred sight. After a silent minute, he stood back up, his expression concealed behind the Death Mask he wore.

"No one deserves this," Tali said mournfully.

"Too few in life ever get what they deserve," Thane replied, the drell assassin had his head bowed, and looked to have been praying for these lost souls.

When the last Collector fell it gave the squad a quick reprieve, allowing them a moment to catch their breath. They had been the targets of a near perfect ambush set up by Harbinger and carried out by the Collectors. Once they all stepped onto the platform and then tried to download EDI into the console, the trap had been triggered causing the platform to be carried deeper into the ship where the Collectors were waiting to strike. The squad was attacked by Collector troops, husks, abominations, and a pair of scions, being orchestrated by the Reaper known as Harbinger who possessed more than a handful of its Collector drones before the battle was over.

Yet, it was a two pronged attack, targeting the squad while simultaneously attacking the Normandy's systems through a sophisticated virus that they had unwillingly uploaded when EDI connected with the Collector's terminal. Both attacks would've been successful if not for the Collectors having under estimated not just Shepard and his squad, but EDI as well.

The battle was over, but it was far from finished. Miranda had no doubts that Harbinger was preparing to launch a second strike on them as they remained in their vulnerable position. The handful of platforms they now stood on hovered over an abyss below them, deep within the bowels of the ship. EDI may have blocked Harbinger's virus, but damage had been done. And it seemed substantial. The AI was being blocked out of several key programs thus thwarting its attempts to relay helpful instructions and directions in freeing them from their current mess.

Squish

A chortle followed the nauseating wet crunching sound.

Miranda turned in the direction of the sound to find its source.

It was Grunt. The tank-born krogan liked to step on the Collector heads after they were killed. Looking pleased with himself, he went over to another fallen Collector and crushed its head beneath his massive foot. He gave another deep rumbling laugh, looking up from the gooey remnants of the Collector's caved in skull to see her inquisitive look.

"Keeps 'em from glowing."

She was surprised to see some logic in the krogan's thinking. She had witnessed the Reaper known as Harbinger possess a Collector drone that she had personally killed. It seemed it could only possess those recently killed as long as their bodies remained intact. Something it could no longer due if the dead Collector troops all had their skulls crushed. Miranda was also sure that he was enjoying every minute of it.

Turning away from the sight of Grunt stepping on another Collector head, but she didn't avoid hearing the wet squishy noise it made she tried to refocus her attention on what Shepard was doing. She spotted the Commander with Garrus, and Drek by the Collector command console. Before she could ask for their progress she was greeted by a most welcome sight-EDI's avatar appearing above the console.

"Connection reestablished. I need to finish the download before I can override any systems."

Shepard nodded, "did you get what we needed?"

"I found data that could help us successfully navigate the Omega 4 Relay."

Mission accomplished, Miranda thought, with that key piece of information in their hands, they could take the fight to the Collectors; attack their homeworld, and end the Collector threat once and for all.

"I've also found the turian distress call that served as the lure for this trap." EDI's voice broke through Miranda's musings. "The Collectors were the source. It is unusual."

"How so?" asked Miranda, curious with how the distress call piqued the AI's interest.

"It is unusual because turian emergency channels have secondary encryption. It is corrupted in this message." EDI explained. "It is not possible that the Illusive Man would believe the distress call was genuine.

Miranda didn't like what the AI was implying. "How can you be so sure?"

"I found the anomaly with Cerberus detection protocols. He wrote them."

"He lied to us?" Jacob asked, caught off guard by EDI's report. The Cerberus Operative looking quite troubled at the deception orchestrated by the Illusive Man.

"Of course he did," Jack sneered, "I knew Cerberus couldn't be trusted."

"We don't know-" Miranda began, but was cut off before she could go any further.

"Wake up, cheerleader." Jack was shaking her head, her tone seeping with smug self-satisfaction at being able to point out Cerberus' flaws. The others in the squad looked to be agreeing with Jack's viewpoint, which only seemed to widen her grin.

"Enough," Shepard growled, silencing her at once. He turned to face the rest of them, the red slits of his Death Mask glowing, "I would've done the same thing."

Jack's grin vanished, wiped away by a look of disbelief that quickly shifted to suspicion, her eyes hardened, as she looked at him warily. She scoffed, and shook her head before muttering, "Figures."

"We got company," Garrus called out, gesturing with his assault rifle at two pairs of platforms coming towards them, teaming with Collector troops, husks, abominations, and two more scions.

Great, more bloody scions, she inwardly scowled. She was quick to find cover behind one of the low walls that crisscrossed across the connecting platforms. They served as the only source of cover for them on the platforms, and without them they would've been left completely exposed.

"Spread out," Shepard called, crouching behind another one a short distance from where Miranda was holed up.

Garrus and Thane were positioned together, at the furthest platform from the approaching ones, safely tucked away, with their sniper rifles out, and had already begun to open. Their shots were true as several Collectors went down their bodies tumbling off of the platforms and into the abyss below. The two platforms finally connected with the others with a hiss and a rumble, husks and abominations stormed off of them charging towards the nearest squad mates-Jack, Grunt, and Jacob.

Jack was waiting for them, she sent a shockwave into their ranks, smashing the first few it collided with turning them into a messy pulp of flesh while causing the remaining husks and abominations to scatter some of them losing their traction and slipping off of the platforms and down into the darkness below.

"For Tuchanka!" Grunt bellowed, charging into the scattered ranks of the husks and abominations, blasting them with his shotgun or mowing them down with his berserker charge.

Some of the remaining husks began pawing and clawing at Grunt, who had allowed himself to become swallowed up in their numbers, using his shotgun like a club and his head plate to keep them at-bay.

Jacob was able to give some assistance as he enveloped a handful of them into a strong pull field, as the husks captured in the dark energy began floating upwards. A chortling Grunt raised his shotgun to finish them off, giving Jacob a nod of gratitude when the last dead husk fell. The unlikely fighting pair were soon forced to take cover as a handful of Collectors opened fire on them.

Tali, Drek, and Shepard had unleashed their combat drones, keeping the Collector troops occupied as they fought off the pesky, but dangerous drones. Those who were distracted were easily dealt with by bullets, mostly coming from Miranda and Shepard. Tali and Drek continued their tech power assault on the nearest Collector soldiers.

When she took down another Collector, Miranda surveyed the battlefield from her position. The husks and abominations had been completely eradicated, the Collector troops were dwindling, but the two scions remained the truest threat, as they continued their assault with their powerful shockwaves one after another.

"Take them down, damn it!" Shepard shouted as he sprinted from his cover, narrowly missing a passing shockwave, he scurried over to Miranda's position. The Commander didn't so much as give her a second look when he squatted beside her, his back to the cover, with his head looking over his shoulder to see the area layout in front of them.

"ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL." Harbinger had reentered the battle taking the possession of a Collector soldier close towards Drek and Tali.

"Shit," Shepard growled from beside her. "I hate that fucking bastard."

"We can take him," Miranda called up her biotics, the dark energy enveloping her and giving her a bluish hue.

"Damn right," he replied, turning his assault rifle towards the Harbinger possessed Collector he opened fire.

It only took a few shots to draw Harbinger's attention. The orange pulsating possessed Collector turned its stare towards them, "Shepard."

Miranda didn't wait another second, unleashing a powerful warp, the biotic attack pummeled Harbinger, staggering the Collector and allowing Drek and Tali to finish it off with their shotguns.

"Releasing this form," were its last words before the Collector crumbled into ashes.

She let loose a breath, feeling slightly strained from the powerful biotic attack.

"You okay?" He must have sensed her fatigue.

She never had a chance to answer.

A Collector suddenly appeared lunging at Shepard, causing the Commander to lose his assault rifle, and the Collector its own weapon in the process, but that didn't dampen either of them as they resorted to trading blows with their fists.

She was about to send a warp towards it when a second Collector fluttered overhead and opened fire on her, she rolled out of the way missing the particle blast. Miranda still on her knees took aim and fired with her pistol, the Collector zipped to its left to avoid the gunfire, but a few of the bullets hit its delicate insect wings causing it to lose its balance and come spiraling back down towards the platform. Not waiting for its crash landing, she emptied the remainder of her clip into the falling Collector. It collapsed in a heap and with a loud crunch, but the dozen or so bullet holes in its head and torso showed that it had been dead before it crashed onto the platform.

A wave of pulsating dark energy caused the platforms to rumble, Miranda knew at once what it was- a shockwave. She instinctively leapt backwards hoping to avoid the deadly scion attack, missing it, she watched in horror as the shockwave smashed into Shepard and the Collector, the two staggered backwards, while cracks of the dark energy rippled and glowed on the two inflicting more pain and inciting Shepard to shout out in pain.

It happened in a split second but to Miranda Lawson it felt like an eternity as she helplessly watched what happened next.

Shepard and the Collector stumbled, clearly uncoordinated and still reeling from the shockwave, but there was no platform behind them, so when Shepard went backwards his feet didn't find solid footing only empty space. Unable to stop his momentum he tumbled off of the platform with the Collector right behind him.

"Shepard!" She shouted, scrambling to the ledge to see him swallowed up by the darkness below.

He was gone. Shepard had fallen into the abyss.

Chapter Text

Let's not do that again.

The Butcher of Torfan lay on his side which had taken the brunt of the impact when his fall had ended rather abruptly when he smashed against what he thought was another one of those collector platforms.

Like the ones above, Shepard was hopeful that this platform came with some sort of console. That way he could activate it, and be able to reunite with his squad and then get the hell off this ship.

Blearily looking up he could still see the faint outlines of the platforms that he and his squad had just been fighting on. He couldn't be sure how long or how far he had fallen when he was knocked off the platform, but for the moment he knew his squad remained on the platforms above him, and they were safe. Yet, he wasn't a fool. He understood that the Collectors would retaliate swiftly and throw even more numbers at them.

Pain lanced through his side as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He hissed at the discomfort, but remained sitting as he administrated the medi-gel through his omni-tool and was thankful when the pain began to ebb in his side.

"Shepard?" An accented voice crackled in his ear. "Shepard, do you read me?"

"I'm here."

"Good." Miranda Lawson's tone was clipped and casual. The Ice Queen persona was on full display since they were sharing an open channel with the rest of the squad.

It didn't bother Shepard. If anything it only made him respect her more. She was selfless, putting the mission before her own feelings. She was able to remain focus even through tough adversities. It was one of the traits that he admired most about her.

"Battle master!" Grunt's voice thundered in Shepard's earpiece.

"Damn, Shepard," that was Drek. "I didn't think you would survive that fall."

"Do I need to come rescue you, Shepard?" Garrus asked dryly.

Garrus' remarks were enough for him to crack a smile. "That would be a first, Garrus." He knew his joke landed when he heard the sound of not just Garrus chuckling, but other members of the squad as well.

"Where are you, Shepard?" Miranda's stern voice broke through the mirthful atmosphere. She was willing to be the hardliner in the group in order for them not to get sidetracked. It wasn't a desirable job, but that never seemed to bother Miranda. It wasn't popularity that she wanted, but results.

"Somewhere below the platforms," It wasn't the best answer, but it was all he had at the moment.

"Are you injured?" The barest hint of concern lingered in her tone. It went ignored or unseen by the others.

"I'm fine," he lied, ignoring the numbing pain that still resonated within his side despite the medi-gel. "Chakwas can have me patched up in no time." He could already picture the Normandy's doctor's friendly frown when he arrived to the med bay after this mission. "She wouldn't have it any other way."

"Have you ever completed a mission without having to go to the med bay afterwards, Shepard?" Garrus asked.

"I like to keep the good doctor busy."

"Shepard," Miranda's voice cut through the banter between Shepard and Garrus. "Do you see the control console?"

"Let me check," he got to his feet, his hand on the wall to help brace him. He was unsteady, his legs wobbled beneath him. He took a few cautious steps, keeping his hand on the wall as he moved around it to get in view of the control console.

"Yeah, I see it," he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good," Miranda's severity was slightly lessened at the news. "EDI will walk you through priming the platform and directing it back to us."

"Understood," Shepard replied. "There's something else."

"What?" Miranda asked attentively.

"The collector who fell with me," he relayed, spotting the collector by the console. It was on its back and unmoving. It didn't seem to pose any sort of threat.

"Is it alive?"

"No," Shepard answered, "But I'm not taking any chances."

"ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL."

The collector suddenly began writhing on the ground as it was enveloped by a fiery glow. The sudden sight of the supposedly dead collector become possessed was enough to momentarily enthrall Shepard who silently watched the process. He knew it was complete when the now possessed collector bolted to its feet. The Collector drone was now a vehicle for the Reaper known as Harbinger.

"Shit," Shepard opened fire on the possessed collector.

Undeterred by the bullets, Harbinger launched itself towards him. Swatting the pistol out of Shepard's hand, leaving the first human Spectre helpless as he watched it bounce off of the platform.

"Shepard," Harbinger growled, before delivering a pulsating punch which connected with Shepard's chest plate that sent him reeling.

He tumbled several feet from the bone breaking punch, unable to keep his balance he fell on his back. Pain flooded through his body while he groaned and stirred on the ground. He felt as if he had just been run over by a Mako.

Shepard raised his head slightly, fighting the sudden wave of dizziness that met his movement. His eyes went to his now dented chest plate. It had been dented inwards from the impact of Harbinger's punch, hairline cracks spread from the centre point resembling a spidery web across his chest plate.

That wasn't good, he groaned. He propped himself up by his elbows fighting through the pain that was coursing through him.

"Shepard?" Miranda's voice was buzzing in his ear. "What's going on?"

"I…I," he stammered, with the wind knocked out of him it was difficult for him to speak. "I have company."

Miranda's voice was drowned out by Harbinger. The collector drone's body pulsated with energy giving it a haunting hue, while its eyes which were already darker then the void itself were now wreathed in a fiery tint that made it look as if the Collector's four eyes were ablaze.

"You cannot avoid the inevitable tide that will sweep across the galaxy."

"Shepard?" Miranda's icy persona was cracking as genuine concern seeped into her tone.

She wasn't the only one. A wave of voices from his other squad members filled Shepard's head instantaneously all of them talking at once. The tangle of voices was enough to bring about a growing headache for the already dizzy Commander. His disoriented mind had problems sifting through the bundle of voices.

Wanting to stop the headache he cut off his earpiece to the others. The risky action provided him with silence and he was rewarded when the headache began to subside. However, looking forward he realized he had other problems to worry about seeing the Harbinger possessed collector approach him.

Harbinger yanked Shepard to his feet effortlessly. The abrupt and jerky movements were enough for Shepard to bring back his dizziness. He was barely able to register the possessed collector's face which was only inches away from his.

"This is true power!" Harbinger slammed Shepard into the wall, eliciting a grunt from him and a loud crack from his armor that signaled further damaged had been done.

The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, but he refused to show weakness in front of Harbinger. Shepard raised his head, his vision still hazy from having his head slammed against the wall, but that didn't stop him from meeting Harbinger's cold deadly stare.

"What…What are you?"

"Your salvation."

He felt icy talons of fear clasp around his heart at the unexpected and chilling answer. Shepard tried to move but Harbinger's grip was too strong, one hand on Shepard's left gauntlet and the other on his chest plate. He was effectively pinned to the wall and at the whim of Harbinger.

"That's not what I'd call it," Shepard barked out a laugh. It was hoarse, and weak.

"You do not yet comprehend your place in the universe."

"My place?" Shepard scoffed.

Harbinger's hand that was resting on Shepard's chest plate moved to his throat and began to squeeze. "We will ascend humanity onto a new plane of existence."

"Y-You mean husks!" he spat; white splotches were beginning to creep into his vision.

"You will know pain, Shepard," Harbinger taunted, its grip on Shepard's gauntlet was getting so tight that he could hear the material beginning to crack.

"S-So what are you w-waiting for?" Shepard shouted defiantly, "K-Kill me!"

That caused Harbinger to loosen its grip around Shepard's throat. "Kill you, Shepard?" It repeated in an almost mocking tone.

"Yeah, that's what you want." Shepard was silently relieved that the pressure had been loosened. The white splotches in his vision were receding, and his breaths were slow and haggard, but not as painful as it had been under Harbinger's suffocating grip.

"It will not be swift," Harbinger revealed. "As you breathe and squirm, we will carve open your body to study your genetic material and to measure your potential."

He tasted the bile burning in his throat as he reflected on the horrendous fate that the Reapers had in store for him.

"You will live, Shepard," Harbinger assured him. "We will break you down in order for you to reach transcendence."

That couldn't be good, he felt his stomach give a painful lurch. There was no way in hell he was going to allow the Reapers to repurpose him. To turn his body into their laboratory to allow them to dissect him while he still breathed. Or worse twist him through indoctrination and implants the way Sovereign did to Saren. He would not allow himself to become their tool and their herald.

"There is a united galaxy out there that will stop you!" His tone was strong to camouflage the lie and his doubts on the very words he spoke.

"Your kind cannot comprehend our power," Harbinger replied, its dark eyes blazing in an orange glow.

"Even now our pawns are in motion, infiltrating your ranks, waiting on our orders to bring your governments down. Just like the cycles before you. You cannot resist. You will fail. It is inevitable."

Indoctrination, Shepard thought numbly, understanding at once what Harbinger was referring to at the mention of pawns. A sliver of fear stirred in his heart upon realizing that the Reapers had already successfully permeated the ranks of the different species' governments.

Harbinger was right. Shepard could never comprehend the Reapers purpose or their power. But that didn't mean he was going to lie down and accept his fate.

"C-Combat drone engage."

A whistle and a swirl of light appeared behind Harbinger as the combat drone materialized. It quickly let loose an electric charge towards Harbinger. It snarled turning towards the drone that it saw as nothing more than a pest.

It was the distraction that Shepard needed with Harbinger's attention on the combat drone. It was his turn to strike. His omni-blade shimmered to life before he plunged it into the collector's back between its shoulder blades, cutting deep into the collector's flesh.

Harbinger let out a half growl and half groan at the surprise attack. "This isn't over, Shepard." The collector trembled, as the pulsating energy around it began to wane, "Releasing this form." The collector crumpled to the ground before turning to dust.

The omni blade dissipated as did the combat drone.

Shepard collapsed to his knees. The beating he had taken from Harbinger had only added to the injuries and pain he had experienced from the fall itself. His back ached from where Harbinger had slammed it against the wall. He was still a bit woozy from when he nearly suffocated under Harbinger's grip. The pain in his side from the fall had returned in full force.

"Shepard!" a recognizable voice cried out in the darkness.

Confused, he raised his head to see a figure approaching him. He was unsure if he was hallucinating or not when the figure turned into Miranda Lawson.

"What happened?" she crouched down in front of him, but made no move to embrace him or comfort him. Instead, she used her omni-tool to scan him to get a proper diagnosis on his injuries.

When their eyes met he could see the genuine fear and relief shimmer in her blue eyes. The rare display of vulnerability on her end nearly had him grab her hand, but he restrained himself.

The two lovers' reunion was neither romantic nor emotional. It was interrupted as abruptly as it had started when the other squad members followed behind Miranda. Garrus and Tali were the next to reach Shepard; Tali's voice was unbridled in her genuine concern for his health and her relief at his survival. Even Garrus, guarded and disciplined, his tone had given way to his relief at seeing Shepard having survived his ordeal.

"What's the diagnosis?" Shepard asked.

Miranda frowned. "You've suffered a few cracked ribs, with some other sprains and other contusions, but no broken bones, it seems." She stood up from her crouched position.

"That all?" He had been expecting worse, but nonetheless he was sure that he would be seeing the inside of the med bay for at least a day or two once they returned to the Normandy.

He pushed himself to his feet refusing assistance when Garrus tried to offer it. He winced when he came to his full height. Looking up to see the other squad mates a respectful distance from him. Their bodies signaled their weariness at their tough fight against the Collectors, but many of them straightened up when he turned in their direction. Determined and willing to keep fighting to insure they successfully completed this mission.

He was pleased and proud of all of them. He wasn't going to lie to them and tell them the worse of the fight was behind them, because he knew even now Harbinger was direction his collector minions and reaper tools-husks, scions, and abominations to try to intercept or destroy them from leaving this ship.

So instead, he kept it simple, and light.

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I think I've had enough of this ship."

It was such a simple thing.

Shepard mused as he took in his reflection in the mirror of his private bathroom. And for the longest time he couldn't do it without feeling anger and revulsion bubbling up within. When Cerberus brought him back to life with the Lazarus Project, Shepard was plagued by these grisly fiery scars that covered most of his face and had even reached down onto his neck. Even his blue eyes weren't spared; the scars had degenerated leading to glowing sections to appear within the irises.

His scars had only worsened due to his ruthless tendencies. The Butcher of Torfan finally resembled the monster that so many believed he was due to his previous actions and decisions throughout his service. Strangers would flinch at his appearance when he passed them. Even some of his crewmembers couldn't look him in the eyes, unable to take in his grisly appearance, while others could only stare at them, ensnared by the scars' grotesqueness.

He had never been a superficial person, but the scars on his face and neck had made him extremely sensitive about his appearance. They were a reminder of his death, that he had been pulled out of the void and brought back to life. The only evidence of his resurrection remained with these scars- the touch of death, he heard some of the crewmembers call them.

The scars reminded him of something besides his death, they were a testament of the methods Cerberus used to resurrect him. Flesh synthesized with cybernetic implants. He was no longer just a man; he was something more.

These constant reminders of his death and what it took to bring him back to life had shaken Shepard to his core. He had been deeply troubled by it all. Haunted by the memories of his death, he had tried to bury it. All of the pain, the emotions, the memories, he buried deep within himself. He had put up his stoic soldier persona, the unshaken role as Commander, and continued to move forward focused on the Collectors and Reapers in his unwavering duty in stopping them.

And yet all it took was one glance at his scars to undo everything. All of the memories, and painful emotions he tried to bury would come flooding back to him at the sight of those scars.

Now they were finally gone. Chakwas had removed them during Shepard's short stay in the med bay following their mission within the Collector ship and his confrontation with Harbinger. The reddish cracks in his skin had dissipated. There wasn't the faintest hint or trace of the ugly scars that had come from the Lazarus Project.

Looking at his reflection, he couldn't help but smile. He ran his hand across his cheek, no longer feeling the cracks and bumps of the scars that had once marred his face, now all his fingers felt were the rough stubble of dark hair.

We are your salvation.

Shepard recoiled. Surprised, and caught off guard by the sudden reminder of his encounter with Harbinger onboard the collector ship. He was half expecting to see the possessed collector drone looking back at him, but it wasn't there just Shepard's reflection.

He sighed. Rubbing at his eyes, having had enough he left the bathroom he still felt some discomfort from his brief, but brutal altercation with Harbinger. Chakwas had assured him that it would go away completely in the next few days.

Shepard wasn't worried about the bruises that he suffered from Harbinger it was the memories that were bothering him. When he replayed Harbinger's threats in his mind, the words had been grave and the warnings were ominous.

This wasn't a war for the Reapers it was a purge. There would be battles and skirmishes, but that wouldn't stop the Reapers from completing their objectives of harvesting every species in the galaxy.

We are beyond your comprehension, Sovereign had told Shepard this when they were on Virmire. It was there that Shepard had discovered the horrifying truth in realizing the true evil behind the rogue Spectre Saren. The threat that was great enough to wipe out the entire galaxy-the Reapers.

There were only a few instances in Shepard's life where he had felt genuine fear. His first encounter with Sovereign on Virmire was on his short list, as was his final confrontation with Saren on the Citadel, the destruction of the first Normandy, and the most recent addition was his altercation with Harbinger aboard the Collector ship.

This fear was difficult for him to describe. It came to him like an icy numbness that wormed its way into his heart, chilling his blood, slowing his thoughts and all but paralyzing him. It was a fear that he could not bury. That he could not overcome with courage or adrenaline. It left him exposed and vulnerable in ways that unnerved him.

"Commander Shepard?" EDI's voice broke through his musings.

Thankful for the sudden, but much needed reprieve, he turned to the AI's avatar that appeared in its spot, "Yes, EDI?"

"Liara has located the justicar," EDI informed him, "And has just sent us her last known location."

"Thank you, EDI," Shepard replied.

After their fight with the Collectors, the Normandy had returned to Illium since Shepard wasn't able to go on anymore missions for a couple of days. Shepard took this reprieve in stride, overseeing the installation of several new upgrades for the Normandy, which should pay dividend when they were ready to go through the Omega 4 relay.

It had been Miranda's idea to recruit the justicar. She suggested that they use this time on Illium to try to track the justicar who had been linked to Illium from their dossier on her. Miranda had made a strong case that the justicar's strong biotics, weapon training, and extensive biotic combat experience was a needed addition to their squad.

Shepard had been against the justicar from the beginning when he first received her dossier. His study of her Order's history made him wary of including her into the fray. He was sure that he and this Samara would not see eye to eye on many things, and that their different viewpoints would no doubt clash. Her deep rooted and unflappable sense of justice troubled him.

Yet, in the end Miranda convinced him in saying that the only viewpoint they needed to share for this mission was the threat the Collectors and Reapers posed. So in the end, Shepard relented and agreed to include the justicar in his squad. He knew they needed someone of this Samara's skills to help them in their fight against the Collectors especially since Shiala didn't seem anywhere near fit or ready to resume in their missions.

Chakwas and Mordin were continuing in their discreet studying of Shiala's connection with the Thorian back on Feros and her own indoctrination experience under Sovereign. So far, none of the results had been to Shepard's liking. He was still convinced that Shiala remained the key in discovering a way to effectively combat and hopefully nullify Reaper indoctrination.

After his confrontation with Harbinger, he was more determined than ever to find a way.

For now, he had to focus on recruiting this justicar. He could only hope this was the right decision.

This justicar better be worth it.

It was done.

It wasn't a smooth recruitment, and it involved infiltrating an Eclipse secret base and fighting off the relentless mercenaries to secure some trivial information about a passenger they harbored to secure passage off planet.

The information meant nothing to Shepard, but the justicar's very purpose seemed to revolve around it. The recruitment took an unexpected turn when Samara swore an Oath of Subsumation to Shepard: Pledging her services, her loyalty, and her life to Shepard for the duration of their mission against the Collectors.

The Oath seemed to have impressed the asari detective Anaya, but it meant nothing to Shepard, especially after Samara admitted that she may be forced to kill Shepard if she witnessed or was forced to do dishonorable things under his behest.

If that was the case then Shepard was prepared to handle the justicar if need be. He wasn't going to allow this deluded justicar to judge him on her version of justice and her narrow minded Order. He wouldn't allow anyone to get in the way of his duty, and for the moment, he saw this Samara as more of a threat then an ally, and one that needed to be watched.

For the moment, Shepard had to put aside his suspicions of the justicar.

He was in his cabin, but he wasn't alone. Miranda, Garrus, Tali, Drek, and Jacob were with him, all of them were watching the live broadcast from Shepard's terminal projection on his ship display case. They were all showing various levels of annoyance and frustration at the broadcast. They were voicing their discontent loudly at the historical event that was unfolding before them. Except for Miranda, she remained silent, but her cold eyes signaled the fury that was storming beneath her ice queen persona.

It was a live feed from the Citadel inside the Council Chambers, as the Council had just named Kaidan Alenko a Spectre. Shepard's former squad mate became only the second human to be sworn into the prestigious ranks of Council Spectres and with Shepard's earlier dismissal from the Spectres, it made Kaidan the only active human Spectre.

The Council had just issued their orders for their newly minted Spectre: Bring Shepard in on charges of terrorism and treason for his alleged involvement with Cerberus. That got the loudest reaction from the viewers of Shepard's cabin.

"How could Kaidan agree to this?" Tali asked in complete disbelief. "He was at Virmire!"

"He is refusing to see the bigger threat," Garrus scoffed.

"It's all bullshit," Jacob dismissed, his voice betraying his disgust. "The Alliance, the Council, all of them." He threw up his hands in frustration.

"So what does this mean, Shepard?" Drek asked, shifting in his seat to face Shepard. His four eyes were unblinking, as the others one by one turned away from the broadcast and onto their Commander.

It was a sense of déjà-vu for Shepard. He could easily remember his own publicized appointment into the ranks of the hallowed Council Spectres. His orders so similar to the ones his former friend had just received. It had been tasked to Shepard to bring in the rogue Spectre Saren Arterius, and now Shepard was the rogue Spectre being hunted.

The irony amused him.

Despite all of it, he still had a job to do. His duty was in stopping the Collectors and he wasn't going to allow Kaidan to stop him. His former friend may have balked at the Reaper threat, but Shepard was determined to fight it, and if Kaidan got in his way, then Shepard would do what needed to be done.

Duty always came first for Commander Shepard: Elysium, Torfan, Feros, Virmire, the Battle of the Citadel, and now the Collectors. He would make sure they completed their mission. And if Kaidan had to be killed to insure their success, then Shepard would do it. Kaidan wouldn't be the first to be killed in the name of duty, and he certainly wouldn't be the last.

"It changes nothing." He looked around at the faces in front of him. "Our focus remains the same: Stopping the Collectors. Our fight is with the Reapers."

"And what if Kaidan tries to interfere?" Tali asked, her voice betraying her uncertainty.

"Then I'll kill him," Shepard answered without hesitation.

He saw the tight nod from Garrus. His turian friend had already had his taste of his allies betraying him. His outlook had relatively hardened from the experience.

He couldn't see Tali's expression behind her faceplate, but he had been around his quarian friend long enough to read her body language. She was wringing her hands on her lap, signaling her discomfort at the notion of having to kill their former squad mate, but it seemed Tali caught herself, looking down at her lap, immediately pulling her hands apart and having them rest on her lap. She then looked up at Shepard, and with a shaky breath, she nodded.

Jacob's expression soured briefly at the thought of having to kill Kaidan. He held a different sense of duty and outlook that vastly differed from Shepard's. He quickly hardened his expression into one of determination, but his eyes gave way to his lingering unease.

Drek was the hardest to read. Hardly on expert on batarian body language, Drek was the first batarian he even had a working partnership with, and if Shepard was honest with himself it had turned into friendship. So when he met his friend's four eyed stare, whose expression remained impossible to read, Shepard didn't know what to think. That was until Drek slightly tilted his head to the left.

The gesture completely caught Shepard off-guard, who was aware enough of batarian culture to understand that to be a show of respect. He thought that this move was a culmination of their time together and the friendship they had formed which had only been solidified when Shepard had helped Drek with his personal problem.

Shepard also understood the difficulty and rareness of this particular display from Drek to know it was proper to acknowledge it all be it subtly. So Shepard replied with a tight nod, which Drek returned.

His eyes met hers. Her face remained stoic. Her frosty veneer didn't reveal any of her thoughts or emotions on what he had just said. It was in her eyes that he could see her determination in seeing this mission through.

"We're with you, Shepard."

Chapter Text

Alchera…

This was the site of their latest mission. However, this mission had nothing to do with recruiting a new squad member. It didn't involve fighting the Collectors. It wasn't even one of the missions that Cerberus Command had sent their way.

No, this mission was different from the others. It was personal. This one was for Commander Shepard. This was the site where the Collectors had ambushed the Normandy SR-1 resulting in the deaths of twenty crewmen including Commander Shepard.

Now, two years later Shepard had returned leading the Normandy SR-2. Then his mission was working for the Council and the Alliance to clean up geth outposts. Now, he was working with Cerberus to take down the Collectors.

For this personal mission, he had elected to go planet side alone. With the Alliance's help, he was going to plant a monument on the Normandy crash site to pay respects to the fallen members of his crew. Admiral Hackett had personally sent the mission request to Shepard. Despite his mixed feelings on the Alliance, Shepard had felt obligated to see this mission through personally.

Miranda Lawson sighed.

This wasn't a return for her. She had never been to Alchera. However, her presence here stirred up emotions just as potent to those who were returning. For her, this was a reminder of what she had lost.

She could still remember receiving the call that changed her life. Being told the news that Commander Shepard had been killed. The man, who in a short amount of time had found a way past her defenses, and into her life. This remarkable man had looked past her Ice Queen persona, past her genetic tailoring, past her Cerberus affiliation to see the real her.

It was not just the news that had shaken her, but the assignment she had been given in the aftermath of the Commander's death. She had been assigned to do the impossible. She had been tasked to help bring her former lover back to life. She had started off as a consultant and had worked her way up as Project Director by the end of Project Lazarus. Where others had seen the impossible, Miranda would not. She was determined to find a way to bring him back.

The galaxy needed Commander Shepard to return. She needed him to return.

She looked up on her terminal to see a close up picture of the unassuming planet, Alchera. Knowing that right now, the man who she cared for above all others save for her sister was down there trying to make sense of the life he lived then and the life he must live now. A part of her had wanted to make the argument that she should go down there with him, but she had decided to remain silent.

Some things in life you needed to face alone. Just as she needed it when she finally mustered the courage to speak to Oriana, courage she never would have found if not for Shepard's support. She needed to give him that same support for his visit to Alchera.

While Shepard was forced to confront old ghosts, she was finalizing the upgrades on the mineral scanner. She hoped with these upgrades that the essential mining and probing needed to restock their resources could be done in a quicker amount of time. The last thing they needed was to waste precious time that should be used to chasing down the Collectors instead being spent orbiting unassuming planets because they needed more palladium.

It was not just Shepard down below that had Miranda's attention drifting away from her tedious work on the mineral scanner. Her interest was also drawn to the communication room where right now Drek was meeting with the Illusive Man. The batarian squad member had come to Miranda and had requested an audience with the leader of Cerberus.

It wasn't out of the ordinary for her since Miranda was the personal liaison for the Illusive Man onboard the Normandy. This wasn't even the first time since Drek had joined them that he had asked for a meeting with the leader of Cerberus.

No, what drew Miranda's interest was the length of this particular meeting. Already, it has been more than an hour since she set up the meeting, and there seemed to be no signs of when it would conclude. She was aware of the batarian's previous work as a Blue Suns informant for Cerberus, but she knew since coming aboard the Normandy that Drek had been working on one particular file that had nothing to do with the Blue Suns.

The Leviathan of Dis…

She could still remember the brief, informative, but disappointing rehashing that Drek had given them when he had first joined them about the mysteries of this supposed Reaper; this defunct, but intact Reaper that has been in the possession of the Batarian Hegemony for decades.

The realization that one of humanity's greatest threats among the galactic community had their hands on Reaper tech had made the Cerberus Operative wary and nervous. There was no doubt in her mind that the Hegemony would try to use what they found from this Reaper into ways of threatening humanity. The bits of Sovereign that had rained down onto the Citadel following the battle had yielded huge leaps in technology and weapons for those who had been able to collect the Reaper pieces.

Two such examples could be found on this very ship, in the form of the recently installed Thanix cannon and in EDI, the ship's AI who had Reaper tech weaved into her Cerberus programming.

So to think what the Hegemony could be doing with an intact Reaper was cause for concern. Unrestricted by Council laws in research and military, the isolated species could become a very real and dangerous threat fairly quickly if they were successful in their studies of this defunct Reaper.

This type of threat to humanity could not be ignored. It was in Cerberus' best interest to sabotage the batarian's efforts whether by destroying the Reaper itself or the research that the batarians had gathered. If left unchecked, Miranda was certain that it would only be a matter of time before Hegemony sponsored aggression against human colonies in the Skyllian Verge would return in full force as they would now be fueled by unparallel Reaper tech and weapons. Those colonies wouldn't stand a chance.

"The Commanding Officer is aboard," EDI's voice intoned over the ship speakers. "XO Lawson stands relieved."

Pulled out of her musings on the Hegemony and the Leviathan of Dis by EDI's announcement, Miranda left her finished work with the mineral scanner to check in on Shepard. However, before she was even halfway to the elevator, EDI's voice returned over the loudspeakers.

"Commander Shepard requests the presence of Miranda Lawson, Garrus Vakarian, Jacob Taylor, and Tali'Zorah Vas Neema in the communication room."

Interesting, she mused as she got her new instructions. She couldn't help but wonder if Drek had finally found some form of solid evidence of a possible location of this mysterious Leviathan of Dis.

Stepping into the communication room, she realized that she was the last to arrive. At the far end of the table was Shepard, his posture stiff and his face stoic. With the Lazarus scars having finally been successfully removed, his strong chin and sharp blue eyes were his prominent features once more helping to compliment his handsome face.

His two oldest squad mates, Garrus and Tali were right beside him. The three were talking quietly, no doubt, the topic of the conversation on Shepard's return from Alchera. Garrus, who had been on the Normandy when it was attacked by the Collectors, while Tali had at that point already left the Normandy crew so she could return to the Fleet to complete her pilgrimage.

All three looked up at Miranda's appearance. Garrus gave what could be passed off as a respectful nod in her direction. Tali's expression was hooded by her faceplate, but Miranda had picked up enough of the quarian's body language to recognize the lingering suspicion and hostility in her stance. Shepard, unlike the others showed no reaction, he met her stare without so much as a blink before turning back towards Garrus and Tali to finish their conversation.

She took his reaction in stride. If Miranda was honest with herself it was the reaction that she wanted to receive. She preferred it. She was fiercely private, and protected that privacy with a tenacity that could not be matched. The last thing she wanted was to be the center of crew gossip if it was discovered that she and Shepard were in a relationship. Even the hint or a whisper of it was not acceptable to Miranda Lawson.

They had gone to considerable lengths to keep it private, and they weren't going to chance their happiness and comfort at their developing relationship at being exploited because they were caught staring at the other during a mission or briefing.

She found Jacob standing off to the side giving the three friends a bit of space, but was close enough to throw in a word or two if needed.

Even though EDI hadn't called him to the communication room, Drek too was there. Miranda wasn't surprised by the batarian's presence, having figured that when they were called to this meeting in the first place that Drek would already be in the room waiting for them. His attention was on the terminal, not even looking up at Miranda's arrival. This further solidified Miranda's suspicions that Drek had uncovered something vital about the Leviathan of Dis.

"We're finally all here," Shepard said, breaking off from his secluded conversation with Garrus and Tali so that he could face the others around the table and get to the crux of why he called this meeting.

"More than two decades ago a genetically engineered starship was discovered by a batarian survey team on Jartar," Shepard began without preamble, "They placed the age at over one billion years old."

Miranda had already heard this story, remembering Drek telling it to them after his recruitment, but looking at Jacob's surprised look and hearing Tali's soft gasp, it was clear that Shepard was trying to catch them up with what they knew.

"This ship was called the Leviathan of Dis by salarian researchers who had documented the discovery," Shepard continued. "Shortly after its discovery, a batarian dreadnaught visited the Dis system in which the Leviathan then mysteriously disappeared."

"It was a Reaper," Tali said in a mixture of awe and surprise. "All this time we needed proof…"

"And the batarians had it," Jacob finished, shaking his head in dismay.

"That's correct," Shepard confirmed, before turning to Drek.

"The Leviathan of Dis is the most heavily guarded secret in the Hegemony," Drek looked up from the terminal. "Since its discovery the Hegemony has been actively studying it hoping to apply the Leviathan's technology to upgrade their weaponry, software, and tech."

"If it's such a secret then how do you know about it?" Tali asked.

It was a reasonable question for someone who wasn't aware of the batarian's back story. When they had first recruited him, Drek gave them a brief and curt explanation about how he came by the information and the cost he had to pay in finding out about it that included the loss of his brother.

As predicted, Drek bristled, his jaw clenched, and his upper set eyes were on the quarian.

"That's not important right now," Shepard intervened in an attempt to try to steer the conversation away from Drek having to relive the death of his brother.

The batarian seemed to appreciate it, since his upper set turned from Tali to Shepard and gave the Commander a nod. "Over the last few months more than a dozen freighters have gone missing in the Omega Nebula. The ships and the crew were never seen or heard from again."

This was new, Miranda realized. She hadn't heard about this minor detail. It had to be an important and relative one if it had caught Cerberus Command and Drek's attention.

"We couldn't find a connection until the two most recent captures," Drek continued, "One of the ships had a tracking device embedded in its cargo, and before it went offline its location pinpointed it somewhere in the Kite Nest system."

Batarian space, Miranda understood the implications at once. Was it possible the Hegemony had contracted slavers to provide test subjects for their studies of the Leviathan of Dis? The thought left a very cold feeling in her stomach.

"Slavers?" Jacob guessed.

"Yes," that was Shepard, "but these weren't typical slavers."

"There are typical slavers?" Garrus asked dryly, but the cold look in his eyes conveyed the turian's seriousness of the topic. It wasn't surprising since he had spent more than a year in Omega fighting the gangs who practiced slave and drug trafficking in the Traverse.

"You said two recent captures?" Tali pointed out. "What about the other one?"

Good catch, Miranda silently approved. She too was curious with what this other capture supposedly yielded that would cause a breakthrough for Drek and Cerberus in their attempts to crack some of the mysteries that surrounded the Leviathan of Dis.

"The last ship that was captured, one of the crewmen escaped," Drek answered, typing up something on the terminal before a hologram picture materialized over the table.

It was of a young woman, she was pale, her countenance clouded by a mixture of suspicion and weariness, her eyes were alert, despite the dark circles under them and her short brown hair was messy and curly, further signaling that the subject has gone awhile without rest.

She seemed to be in some sort of interrogation room.

"Tell me again what you saw?" asked the off camera voice.

"I already told you," the woman snapped, there was a surprising amount of fierceness in her voice, "Every damn detail."

"We know, Ellen," The off camera voice replied, "And we're very appreciative of your assistance." The voice was soothe and reassuring. "One more time for the record," the voice paused, and it could be heard muttering something incoherently before adding, "And then we'll take you to your daughter."

The mention of the daughter perked Ellen. A glint could be seen in her eyes, before she relented with a nod, "Alright."

"Excellent," the voice sounded pleased, "From the beginning."

"They seized our ship."

"Slavers?" asked the voice.

"No, they weren't slavers," the woman answered, her mood shifted quickly to display a small trace of fear in her expression. "They were… They were monsters."

"Monsters?" repeated the voice, bemused at her choice of description.

"Yes, they… they resembled humans, but there wasn't anything human about them," answered Ellen. "Their flesh had been peeled away and replaced by tech that…that gave them a haunting glow, tubes went up their arms and neck towards their face and their eyes." She paused unable to suppress the shudder, "their eyes gave off this bluish glow, empty and soulless."

My God, Miranda thought in horror. She was describing husks! She looked around to see that the others had come to similar conclusions as well. This couldn't be possible, she tried to rationalize. All of their research on husks had them as mindless creatures, incapable of decision making or carrying out anything besides simple tasks.

They were the mindless infantry for the Geth and the Collectors. For them to be responsible for seizing ships… It was a terrifying thought to confront especially since it led to the even more terrifying notion that the Hegemony was breeding these troops for their own nefarious purposes. And not just breeding, but controlling them.

"Did these monsters say anything?" asked the voice.

"No," she answered quickly. "I…I don't think they were capable of speech."

"I see."

"There were others," Ellen continued, the fear lingering in her eyes, despite her best attempts to keep her tone normal and her expression neutral.

"You mean more of these human monsters?"

"No," she shook her head. "There were some that resembled turians."

Miranda could hear the sharp intake of breath from Garrus at the mention of turians.

"Turians?" repeated the voice.

"Yes," answered Ellen, bringing her hands to rest on the table. "They had been perverted just like the humans. They had armor fused into their flesh, including their face, with tubes and wires crisscrossing their body. Their eyes glowed from these various wires that seemed to have plugged directly into their skull."

"I-I think they were in charge of the others." She was quick to defend her theory. "They gave off these guttural commands that the others seemed to follow."

"By others you mean the other humans?" the voice asked for clarification.

"And the batarians," she pointed out.

"There were batarians with them?"

Had the batarians found a way to direct these human and turian husks like the geth and Collectors? Miranda's silent question was answered by Ellen's next answer.

"No, they too had been affected."

"Affected?" the voiced pressed on, "Affected how, Ellen?"

"They had these large sacks of flesh fused onto their backs," she answered, "One of their arms had been transfigured into some sort of weapon, because it was able to fire a stream of deadly blasts." Her brows furrowed together, "Like a gun!" she added, knowing that she needed something logical to compare with what she witnessed to help make sense of it.

"They had the four eyes of the batarians," Ellen continued, "but they glowed too, like the turians, and…and they ate their own fallen."

"They ate them?" the voice asked, unable to hide his disgust.

"Yes," a look of revulsion flickered across Ellen's features. "A-And it seemed to make them stronger."

"Eating their own dead?"

"Yeah," her lips pursed together. "It…It was like armor formed over them after they ate one of their fallen."

"Armor?"

"Yes," she said, her irritated tone clearly signaling she didn't want to relive the memories she had of watching these things cannibalize themselves.

The voice seemed to pick up on it too. "You're doing great, Ellen." There was a pause as if he was writing something down before continuing, "Just a few more questions and you're done."

"And then I can see my daughter?" A look of hope brightened Ellen's weary expression.

"Yes," the voice confirmed.

The image crackled and the last look Miranda got was of a determined Ellen before the feed was cut. A heavy silence had fallen over the communications room like a thick vapor as everyone seemed to be trying to process everything they had just seen and saw.

Humans, turians, batarians, Miranda couldn't believe it. It seemed the Hegemony had been broadening their test subjects. While the Geth and Collectors had been satisfied with just humans, the Hegemony had no qualms in inserting this reaper tech into turians and even to their own people. What was worse is that they seemed to be able to control them or at least direct them if they were using these reaper troops to seize freighters.

It was unimaginable. It showed just how far they were willing to go to enact their vengeance against humanity for defeating them during their quasi war over the Skyllian Verge.

Who are you to judge? The silent voice chastised in the back of her mind. You are not exempt to studying on humans. The poignant truth was difficult to ignore. There was no denying that she had experimented on humans during other projects that she had overlooked for Cerberus…

"That was taken less than a week ago, as part of a Cerberus investigation," Drek's voice cut through the silence. If he had any frustrations or anger at the Hegemony using his own people for these Reaper experiments he was hiding them well. "Ellen was the Executive Officer of a mining freighter. She was the only survivor of the attack."

"This has to be stopped," Jacob said, his voice filled with a righteous anger. He may be a Cerberus Operative, but he still was led by the convictions that were instilled in him from when he was a soldier.

"It will be," Drek said, though his expression was stoic, there was an unbridled fury in his voice. "I recently was able to decrypt a location from the files." The image over the table changed to show a single planet. "I believe the Hegemony have a base on this planet dedicated to studying and carrying out their research on the Leviathan of Dis."

Erszbat, in the Vular System, Miranda silently read under the planet's image.

"That's in the Kite's Nest," Garrus pointed out. "That's Hegemony space, Shepard."

"I know," he said, "the Normandy's stealth systems should keep us off of the Hegemony's radar." He looked around the room, "But I won't lie to you. Our presence if detected could spark a war. Despite my severed alliances with the Council and the Alliance, the Normandy's reputation as an Alliance frigate could give the Hegemony the excuse they need to declare war against the Alliance."

She couldn't deny the truth in Shepard's warning, but after watching the interview with the lone survivor of that attack. It seemed war with the Hegemony was inevitable. The batarians seemed to have been planning for it. If injecting Reaper tech into humans, turians, and batarians was any indication of their desperate attempt to not only finish the war but to try to eradicate humanity's presence in the Verge altogether.

"Could the Hegemony be working with the Collectors?" Tali asked.

"It's possible," Shepard answered, "But we don't know for sure."

"It would explain their ability to control the husks," Jacob reasoned.

"That's true," Shepard agreed, before adding, "Or that ability could be a direct result of their research on the Leviathan of Dis."

Jacob couldn't hide the look of anger that came to his face at that realization. He was after all a survivor of the geth attack on Eden Prime. He had seen firsthand what those husks were capable of under geth control, and to put that same technology in the hands of a species that loathed humanity with every fiber of their being. It wasn't a comforting thought to stomach…

The interview left a lot for Miranda to think about as the Normandy made its way to their destination. Stealth systems had been engaged as the Cerberus frigate made its way through hostile Hegemony space. After hearing the survivor's account, the Hegemony had suddenly elevated their threat status near the top. It had become so dangerous that Shepard and them had agreed to make this their top priority and for the moment sidelining their Collector mission.

It made sense that it was this ship that dealt with this issue directly. The Normandy was the best frigate within Cerberus' small, but formidable armada. It was also the best staffed, and equipped with the best tech especially with the various recent upgrades done to its shields, armor, and weapon systems. The squad that Shepard had gathered to go against the Collectors seemed the best fit to take on these new Hegemony created Reaper monsters.

Yet, he still won't go into that base with full strength, Mirada noted, looking over the list that Shepard had put together for the mission. Mordin and Shiala were both off the list which was no longer surprising to Miranda, though she did note that after their meeting she saw Shepard go into the med bay where Mordin was and stayed there for quite some time before finally going back to his cabin.

The Justicar too was missing from the list. It was clear proof that Shepard was still wary of her. Since recruiting her, Samara had yet to accompany Shepard on any missions, and the enigmatic Justicar had stayed in self isolation in the Starboard Observations deck. Miranda understood that trust and loyalty were difficult commodities to come by especially onboard a Cerberus vessel, but this wasn't helping their cause in working together for the greater threat-stopping the Collectors.

"Ground crew report to the hangar," EDI's voice crackled over the loudspeakers.

It's time, Miranda realized. She wasn't sure what to expect down there, but the mission was simple. Stop the Hegemony from its continued twisted research on the Leviathan of Dis. Humanity was depending on them, even if they didn't know it.

"Communications have been jammed," Drek reported, "secondary channels included."

"Good," said Shepard, the squad gathering around Drek just inside the facility.

They had met no resistance, the facility seemed deserted. Its heavy turrets above the facility were down and there was no resistance when they entered. The Commander had already given the order to the Normandy to fire upon any shuttle trying to leave the landing pads situated on the other side of the facility.

Their plan was simple. They wanted to be in and out before the facility knew what hit them. The last thing they needed were survivors from the facility reporting back to the Hegemony of an incursion on one of their secret bases.

They may be trying to elude the Hegemony, but there was no stopping them from destroying this facility. What they didn't want was proof of their presence. And if the Hegemony did try to bring up the attack on their facility through diplomatic channels then they would have to disclose what the facility was used for, and Miranda was pretty certain that the Hegemony wasn't going to share their research or true purpose of this facility.

There was no sign of the Leviathan of Dis. It seemed the Hegemony had the defunct Reaper somewhere else. It was unfortunate, meaning that this was probably just one of many facilities that the Hegemony had set up dedicated to studying it.

Nevertheless, it was imperative to permanently shut down this base and hopefully contain some of the research and progress the batarians had made in their research.

"Shepard, we found something," Tali's voice called from deeper into the facility.

Following Shepard's orders the squad fell in behind the Commander as they made their way over towards where Tali's voice was coming from. Waiting for them outside of the room was Tali and Garrus, who had been assigned to further scout the area. Tali was fidgeting, her faceplate looking anywhere but into the open room beside her.

The turian's expression was just as difficult to decipher despite not wearing a faceplate, but his eyes couldn't hide the anger and disgust at what he apparently saw. All he did was give a tight nod to the room that he and Tali were standing outside of.

Miranda was the first inside. The sterile room seemed downright ordinary, a few cabinets along one wall, as well as a large terminal on the other, but it was what was in the middle of the room that ensnared Miranda's attention. Along a row of what she counted to be ten gurneys were the bodies of the Reaper corrupted batarians. It was just as Ellen had described from her interview with Cerberus intelligence.

She cautiously approached the nearest table. Taking in the beastly sight of the corrupted batarian, its skin a sickly darkish taint, its four eyes had an ethereal milky hue to them. The large sickening flesh was fused onto their back that gave them a hunchback resemblance. Its arm had been removed and replaced with what looked like biomechanical cannon.

Picking up the arm, to better examine the technology needed and used to create such a remarkable feat. At the end of the arm where the hand should be was a three pronged claw and at the center of the palm was the muzzle for the arm cannon. Laying the arm down, she quietly counted the numerous reaper tech implants embedded throughout the corrupted batarian.

"How could they do this to their own people?" Tali wondered.

Her quarian naivety was on full display, Miranda silently observed. The quarians were a close knit community, who valued their whole, and not the individual. Every loss of life to the Fleet was felt. It left an impact on a species whose population continued to dwindle. To experiment on their own people, the thought wouldn't cross their mind. Each life was too precious for them to sacrifice needlessly.

"We have some audio." Drek called their attention over to the terminal.

"Let's hear it," Shepard said his attention still on the row of dead mutated batarians.

"These men and women meant nothing to us in their past lives," the voice began.

"Now their willingness to serve in the unknown will elevate them for all to see. They will contribute to the success of the Hegemony. With them, the glory of old can be captured. We will return to the galactic stage, the planets taken from us we will take back. New wealth will flow and lift the Hegemony above all others."

Madness, she thought quietly. Utter madness, disillusioned but still very dangerous if and when they act out their grudges against humanity. It was clear that they were prepping these corrupted batarians, humans, and turians for war.

"There's a bit more," Drek played the second part.

"The staff have begun calling them Cannibals," The voice revealed.

"It is a fitting name for them. We've already caught them gorging themselves on their own fallen brethren. It seems to be some innate programming from the Reaper tech we installed. Yet, the more they devour of the flesh, the stronger they become. We've witnessed these transformations with armor plating materializing to cover their body."

"Cannibals?" the disgust in Jacob's voice was palpable.

"We need to stop this," Drek growled. He turned away from the terminal, his omni-tool still glowed as his four eyes took in the sight of his own people corrupted and twisted by Reaper experiments that were implemented by the Hegemony.

"We will," Shepard vowed. "We won't allow these monsters to see the light of day."

Drek took solace in that. "Good." He spared the Cannibals one last look before leaving the room.

"Where is everybody?" Garrus wondered as they made their way down to the second sub level. They had yet to come across any members of staff, no scientists, or soldiers. All they were met with was eerie silence and the dead Reaper experiments they were studying.

"They had a skeleton crew," Drek informed from up ahead. "No more than fifteen staff members with an additional six security officers."

That was surprising to hear, Miranda thought. They must have been stretched very thin. Even with her Cerberus projects and the secrecy required their staff and security numbers still reached into the high thirties and low forties. Yet, this Hegemony research team seemed to have only around twenty people.

"Is it to protect the secrets of the Leviathan of Dis?" Shepard guessed.

"Most likely," Drek answered, before the squad stopped in front of the first door they had found on this sublevel.

The motion sensors of the door sensed the squad's presence opening with a soft swoosh, Drek was the first in. "Clear," he called out. "But it isn't pretty."

Miranda doubted that they'd come across any rooms that wouldn't be blood chilling or stomach churning.

Are you no different? The cold chastising voice of her Ice Queen persona whispered in the back of her mind. You tested on people, creepers, and rachni, the cold voice listed Miranda's past experiments with a hint of pride.

That was different, Miranda argued.

"Spirits," Garrus exclaimed, wrenching Miranda out of the inner debate she was having. Responding to Garrus' reaction of whatever he saw in the room, she realized she was the only one in the corridor, the others had gone into the room.

Stepping into the room, she understood Garrus' reaction at once, strapped to a table, was a corrupted turian. It seemed to be dead. Its head lulled to the side, while its body had yet to twitch, but it was still unnerving with those eyes giving off a soft bluish hue.

Again Ellen had done an incredible job with her description of these Reaper corrupted turians. A mixture of synthetic and organic construction, tubes and wires snaked through flesh, tissue, and mechanical armor plating. The tubes ran up to the back of the turian's skull, before an array of wires snaked through what Miranda surmised to be what was left of the turian's brain and whatever reaper tech they had implanted there.

Unlike turians, these constructs appeared to have more than two eyes, above one of its main two eyes, looked to be a third, larger eye and above that were several glowing dots that Miranda wasn't sure were eyes, but what she was sure of was that this Reaper tech had completely transformed the turian's facial anatomy.

She stepped back respectively when Garrus moved closer for a further look. She watched quietly, the subtle twitches of his mandibles as he inspected the corrupted turian. His blue eyes hardening as it took in the several bits of Reaper implants that had been put in. He then raised a cautious hand and brought it to the turian's face, his talon's scratching the surface of the turian's corrupted face before making a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. He tilted the turian's head so that he could look directly into its lifeless eyes.

Garrus met the stare of its dead eyes in absolute silence for a few seconds before releasing his grip on the turian, its head lulled back to the side.

"This is the future of my people." There was a hard edge in his voice. "When the Reapers come this is what they will turn my people in to." Without warning, Garrus slammed his fist into the turian's face, eliciting a soft crunch from the dead turian where his punch had landed.

"Damn them," Garrus growled. He raised his hand and looked ready to deliver another punch to the turian, his small blue eyes blazing in fury, but he didn't. He let out a tired breath, and shook his head in disgust at the turian turned Reaper monster and left the room without another word.

"There's some audio here, Shepard," Drek said broaching the heavy silence that had enveloped the room with Garrus' departure.

Shepard was looking out the door Garrus left from. "Play it, Drek."

"We always knew it was risky," the voice began. "We understood that by taking in other species we could alert our presence and what we were doing in this facility, but in the end we must follow our orders. The Hegemony was clear. They wanted a diverse cast of subjects to test the new tech that we have gathered."

"There's another entry," Drek informed them before playing it.

"The risk has paid off better than we ever could have imagined!" The voice sounded gleeful.

"The turians have responded incredibly well to the Reaper tech!" the voice continued. "We are convinced they could be key in leading our husks and cannibals into battle against the Alliance. The Reaper tech has somehow formed a protective shield over them that must be generated by the tech itself. They have an intelligence that the others lack. They have this ability of adding layers of armor to husks and cannibals during our combat simulations."

"Unlike the cannibals and husks, they however require weapons," the voice continued its assessment casually. "They have handled the phaestons that we took on the last raid remarkably well. It's as if the Reaper tech has programmed them with combat software. They can evaluate and command the others in the heat of our combat simulations. We are convinced that it will carry over during our live tests."

"They must be talking about the raids," Miranda surmised.

"Success!" The voice sounded deliriously happy. "Under close supervision and surveillance we were able to direct a small task force made up of our subjects to successfully carry out a raid on a freighter in the Omega Nebula."

"The success has earned the turians in our task force the nickname, marauders," the voice chuckled. "They performed admirably and were able to change its tactics during the brief, but bloody firefight onboard the freighter. Sending video and results to Khar'shan with this breakthrough it shouldn't be long until we're ready to test these marauders on Alliance marines."

"Marauders," all heads turned in Garrus' direction to find the turian standing in the doorway. The loathing in his tone was clear. "What are we waiting for?" He shouldered his assault rifle. "This ends today."

"I found them, Shepard," Drek called, the squad had just reached sublevel three and there was still no sign or clue of where the staff was. All they had come across were shadows, ghost, and the dead monsters left behind.

"Where are they?" Shepard asked.

"They've bunkered themselves in this room here," Drek uploaded a layout of the facility before using his omni-tool to project a 3D image of it. A small inconspicuous room in the fourth sublevel was now highlighted. "It's there safe room."

"Can we reach it?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," he answered, "And you see this room, here?" A room right next to the safe room was now highlighted. "This is where they keep the mainframe and the servers."

"Then that's where we're going," Shepard decided.

"And what about the staff?" Tali asked. "What happens to them?"

"We kill them," Shepard said simply, receiving nods from Drek and Garrus.

"Attention intruders," a voice echoed in the corridor.

Drek instantly perked at the voice, "Thorvan."

Miranda was familiar with the name from reputation only. She hadn't been present for Drek's mission to Lorek that involved him, but had read the reports. The Hegemony's liaison with the Blue Suns, he was trying to start a war between the Hegemony and the Alliance. It shouldn't have surprised her to discover him in this facility; whose research and experiments were being carried out with that same goal in mind.

"You sure, Drek?" Shepard asked gently.

"Of course," Drek snapped. "I should have known he would be here."

"You picked the wrong facility to raid," Thorvan's voice returned over the loud speakers. "Now prepare to face the full might of the Hegemony!"

"Movement up ahead," Jacob called.

Where? She wanted to ask, but she remained silent. Tightening the grip on her pistol, ready to call on her biotics at a moment's notice, she looked out into the dark corridor that stretched in front of them and saw only darkness staring back.

"Drek, Tali deploy combat drones," Shepard instructed calmly.

They did, the two combat drones materialized in front of their tech casters before drifting off into the darkness. The only sound in the corridor apart from the squad members breathing were the whizzing and whistling coming from the combat drones, who had been swallowed up in the shadows ahead.

Then suddenly there was a chorus of menacing almost animalistic like growls followed by gunfire. The drones whistled and glimpses of light could be seen from the darkness from the drones' attacks.

It was then that Miranda saw the silhouettes of the Reaper monsters that the Hegemony was breeding. "Shepard?"

"I see them," he said.

"Orders, sir?" Jacob asked.

"Engage," Shepard answered after a brief pause when one of the drones fizzled out.

The squad opened fire into the corridor, grunts of pain echoed off the walls, as the barrage of bullets peppered the Reaper monsters who had remained shielded by the darkness.

And then a cannibal finally emerged, stumbling out from the shadows. It opened its maw and howled angrily, but before it could take two steps, its head exploded from a well precise headshot. The headless body swayed before collapsing in a heap.

More howls responded and several cannibals came stalking out of the darkness, but their attention wasn't on the squad, but on the dead cannibal. They rushed over to it, fighting over it like predators over a fresh kill, before they began tearing into the flesh with claws and jaws.

It took all of Miranda's discipline to stop herself from throwing up. The sight was repugnant, her stomach lurched in protest. She could taste the bile burning up her throat. To hear about them eating one another was one thing, but seeing them tear and claw, bite and chew as they ripped pieces of fresh flesh off was something completely different. Nothing in her time studying rachni or creepers came close to the horrendous images in front of her that were now permanently ingrained in her mind.

"I think I might be sick," Jacob said, from beside her.

"Don't let up," shouted Garrus. There was a cold fury in the turian's eyes as his assault rifle continued to spit bullets towards the feasting and distracted cannibals.

In less than two minutes, the remaining cannibals were all dead, bodies collapsing onto one another to form a small pile. Fresh blood splashed walls and floor of the corridor while chunks of cannibal flesh were strewn about as was the half eaten corpse.

"Oh Keelah," Tali muttered in a mixture of disgust and disbelief. She took a few steps back wanting to put more distance between her and the fallen cannibals.

Jacob had put his hand out to the wall to brace himself. His eyes stubbornly transfixed on his boots.

"My people," Drek murmured. "Look at what they've done to my people." He made his way over towards the pile of dead cannibals.

"Drek," Shepard called after him, but Drek wasn't listening.

"Damn him!" Drek shouted, kicking one of the corpses. "Fuck them!" He kicked it again.

Miranda couldn't blame him for his anger. She could still remember the first time she had read the Cerberus reports from Eden Prime, about the colonists being impaled onto those pikes-dragon's teeth. The images were even worse. The transformation of the colonists into those husks was a brutal process to watch.

It was part of the reason why she had taken over as project director for the research on the creepers and rachni. After seeing the horrors of Eden Prime and the husks, she knew they had to be stopped. That meant exploring new means of fighting them without the additional cost of human lives, so rachni and Thorian creepers options were explored. In the end it didn't work out.

She had just been just as angry as Drek and Garrus when they first saw the cannibals and marauders. Unlike them, the sad truth was she was use to the sight of husks. They had fought their fare share of them on Horizon and onboard the Collector Ship. But for them, this was an entirely new thing for them to process to have to be confronted with the fates that awaited their people if the Reapers were not stopped.

It was a terrible fate for any species. It was one of the Reapers' more potent weapons, remembering the revelation from the Collector ship, the Collectors had once been Protheans. It made Miranda wonder if they failed to defeat the Reapers, would they use husks, cannibals, and marauders in the next cycle for their war?

That's not going to happen, wanting to stem that thought from spreading.

Gunfire broke through her musings, snapping up to see they were being fired upon from the same area where the cannibals had come from, but she couldn't see who was shooting them due to the darkness of the corridor. While the others were near cover, Drek had been out in the open by the cannibals. He tried to scurry to a defensible position, but he didn't get very far before his shields failed and he went down with a shout of pain before collapsing on the ground beside the pile of the cannibals.

"Drek!" Shepard shouted, returning fire on their hidden opponents.

There was no answer. The batarian didn't even stir.

The marauders finally stepped into the light. Just like with the cannibals it was an eerie sight to take in. There were a handful of them. They were growling guttural commands to one another as they advanced.

They moved in great precision, two would lay down cover fire to allow the others to move forward and then they would reverse roles. It was an effective tactic and the marauders worked well in this tandem. Miranda was beginning to think the marauders had directed the cannibals to go first to use as a distraction. It certainly worked.

"Bastards," Garrus growled, seemingly trying to kill every marauder with his assault rifle. His shots were sporadic and his curses loud. There was no doubt their presence was effecting his focus.

"Overload their shields!" Shepard ordered, as he slowly moved from cover to cover towards Drek's position.

Miranda didn't need to be told twice entering the command in her omni-tool, she took some satisfaction in seeing the marauder stumble forward before it was ripped apart by bullets, a second marauder shared the same fate by the combine powers of Garrus and Shepard. The former had removed its shields with an overload while the latter finished it with his assault rifle.

A third soon followed, a nicely aimed shield drain from Tali had left it vulnerable to Jacob's incendiary rounds. The last two fell soon afterward overwhelmed by the squad's combined might and combination of tech and biotic attacks.

Shepard was first to reach the batarian. "He's alive," he called back to them. The Commander's omni-tool was glowing as he applied medi-gel to the wounded Drek.

"Good," Garrus breathed a sigh of relief as he came up beside Shepard.

Jacob and Tali shared a similar reaction at realizing that Drek was going to make it. Even Miranda was pleased to hear the news. She tried to rationalize it by pointing out the asset the batarian had become to them on this mission against the Collectors, but the excuse was hollow.

Drek was conscious soon after the medi gel had been applied, and was quick to his feet, but not before loudly berating himself for getting himself distracted and then shot.

"You able to continue?" Shepard asked, a reasonable amount of concern in his voice.

"Of course I am," Drek answered, brushing off the Commander's concern.

"Alright," Shepard was still looking at Drek. "Let's move out."

They hadn't come across any more enemies when they reached the final sublevel. This was where they would find the mainframe. This was where they would find the staff responsible for committing these atrocious acts. This was where they would end the threat and destroy this facility.

The squad slipped into a large room that looked to have served as the staff's mess hall if the tables were anything to go by. In the middle of the room was a tall statue of a batarian, posed in a deliberate propaganda attempt to convey awe at the sight. He was holding a gun in one hand and what looked to be a miniature version of the Citadel in the other. At the base of the statue were several distinct pillars that looked to be holding up the batarian.

"Charming," Miranda drawled, inspecting the blatant form of propaganda art funded by the Hegemony.

"What's with the pillars?" Shepard asked.

"Those are the Pillars of Strength," Drek answered, "They're the fundamental foundation of our faith."

"You have sullied the Pillars," Thorvan's voice bellowed in the speakers. "You turned your back on the faith when you swore an allegiance to Cerberus."

Undeterred by the voice of his enemy, Drek turned to the loudspeakers. "Hiding, Thorvan?" he called out, "Too afraid to meet your fate?"

"My fate?" Thorvan sounded amused. "I will be rewarded for the work I did here."

"This is an abomination!" Drek's four eyes were scanning around the room for any sign of his enemy. His eyes stopped at the doors at the other end of the room that would lead to the mainframe and where the staff had barricaded themselves.

"No," Thorvan spat, "This is our salvation!"

The doors suddenly burst open as husks, cannibals, and marauders came pouring out.

"Shit!" Shepard shouted, "Everybody find cover!"

Miranda did, crouching down behind a turned over table. She wasn't alone, Tali was with her too. Drek had taken up position behind the statue that had him between them and Shepard, Garrus, and Jacob's position behind another table.

Locating two encroaching cannibals, Miranda called on her biotics, enveloping the two in a biotic field that had them levitating upwards and with a swift motion of her hand sent them pummeling back towards the ground. They hit the floor with a nasty splat. The deaths sent the nearby cannibals into a frenzy, they went running over towards the fallen corpses. Tali and Miranda were able to pick them off with ease.

Drek was picking off charging husks with his shotgun. Garrus was handling the marauders with his sniper rifle. He seemed to have gotten over the initial shock and anger at seeing the mutated turians. Jacob and Shepard were focusing on the cannibals, with the former using his incendiary ammo to cause them to scatter and turn on one another.

"You can't win!" Thorvan taunted, the doors opening to show the batarian stepping into the room, flanked by a few more husks, cannibals, and marauders. "What we have set in motion can't be stopped!"

Something was off, Miranda realized when she looked up from behind the table to see the batarian.

"You have betrayed your people!" Drek shouted, firing off a few rounds from his shotgun towards Thorvan, but the distance of his firing with the strength of Thorvan's shields were able to absorb the bullets without strain.

Tech armor cocooned the deluded batarian, his countenance giving him a haunted, but demented look. She could see it in his eyes, there was a milky glow to them.

He didn't, she breathed in disbelief, but looking closer she knew he did. Thorvan wasn't carrying a gun, because his left arm had been turned into one! He had the same arm cannon that the cannibals had. He had inserted himself with Reaper tech!

"What have you done?" Drek asked in disbelief, he too seemed to have figured out the lengths Thorvan had gone to fulfill his desire in leading the Hegemony into a new war with the Alliance.

"The Leviathan told us of our victory if we served it," Thorvan's tone had taken a delirious edge to it.

He was indoctrinated, Miranda realized. They believed this Reaper, whom they called the Leviathan would actually help them, when in fact it was using them as pawns. It was an ingenious plan from this defunct Reaper they called Leviathan. If war broke out between the Alliance and the Hegemony they would both be left vulnerable and weakened when the Reapers finally emerged from dark space.

"Keelah," Tali said from beside her.

"The Leviathan has given us a chance to make the Hegemony strong once more!" Thorvan raised his other arm directing his remaining cannibals forward to attack them. "Our platoons of reaper troops will win us back the Verge!" Thorvan fired off a powerful shot from his arm cannon towards Drek, who was able to scurry behind the statue in time, the blast smashed into the statue blasting it into pieces.

"And then we will take on the Council Species who refused to give us aide when the cancer known as humanity began to spread in our systems!" Thorvan fired off another shot from his arm cannon, this one missing Drek by inches.

"This is our retribution!" he shouted. "We will have our reckoning!"

Seeing that Drek was vulnerable, Miranda jumped from her cover; calling on her biotics she sent a powerful warp towards Thorvan. It hit him hard, causing him to stagger backwards, giving Drek enough time to reach their position.

"Thanks," he muttered.

Miranda replied with a shaky breath as her biotics dissipated with a soft crack before she gave him a nod.

Thorvan let out a howl of rage as he directed his cannon towards them and opened fire, Miranda ducked behind the table just as the first shots began to hit them. The table groaned and shook at the steady attack from Thorvan's cannon, it was only matter of seconds before it collapsed and crumbled into dust.

"Go for the optics, Chatika!" Tali had summoned her combat drone to relieve them of the relentless attack and judging by Thorvan's growls and curses it was working.

"It's time to end this," Drek said, a cold edge in his voice as he slapped a new clip in his shotgun before standing from cover. He then charged the distracted Thorvan, firing off an array of tech attacks, including incinerate that melted through Thorvan's tech armor.

Thorvan turned away from the combat drone, and raised his cannon to fire, but without the tech armor, he didn't stand a chance as Drek emptied his shotgun clip into the indoctrinated batarian. Spray of blood and bits of flesh clouded Miranda's vision of Thorvan, before seeing him collapse on his back, a piece of his torso and his arm cannon having been blown clean off from Drek's shotgun.

"It's over, Thorvan."

"Over?" Thorvan sneered. "It's only just begun. The Reapers will come and reward the Hegemony for its service. We-"

Drek never gave him a chance to finish. He lowered his shotgun and fired the last bullet in his thermal clip directly into Thorvan's head.

The remaining reaper troops in the room were easily thwarted and when the last reaper troop fell, the squad gathered around Drek who remained where he stood, standing over the dead Thorvan. The remainder of his head was bits of flesh and warm blood that splashed across the floor.

"Finally," Drek holstered his shotgun. "I can't tell you how long I've wanted to kill that bastard."

"He implanted Reaper tech into him," Jacob said, nudging what remained of Thorvan's arm cannon with the toe of his boot.

"He was always a zealot," Drek stated bitterly.

"What about the others?" Tali asked, "Do you think they could be indoctrinated too?"

"Why does it matter?" Drek shrugged, "They're going to be killed regardless." He looked out towards the doors that would lead them to the remaining staff and the facility's mainframe. "If anything we would be doing them a service by putting them out of their misery."

"Nothing excuses them for what they did here," Garrus said sharply, walking over a dead marauder.

"Agreed," Shepard said, "It's time to finish this."

The staff had been dealt with. They were belligerent and unapologetic at the course of action they had taken. It was unclear if they were indoctrinated or not, but what was clear was that they were responsible for countless crimes from their research and experiments. Shepard ordered their executions for crimes against humanity, the Hierarchy, and the batarian people even if the Hegemony had orchestrated it.

There was no hesitation from the squad to carry out the executions.

When they reached the mainframe, Drek went to work. His attention split on the large terminal that linked the mainframe and servers and to his omni-tool.

The others lingered near the exit. They had all had enough of this place.

After a few minutes of silence, Shepard asked the question that was on all of their minds. "You sure this will work, Drek?"

"Of course I am," He sounded insulted. "Using this mainframe the virus will upload and soon spread to all of the other facilities that are studying the Leviathan of Dis. It seems they were using encrypted and secondary channels to send their reports to the Hegemony and to each other. With this virus uploaded, most of the information they have stored will be corrupted. It'll take them years to recover."

Miranda couldn't help but admire the ingeniousness of Drek's solution. It would definitely serve as a crippling blow to the Hegemony. It also served the important task of helping to take care of the other secret facilities spread out throughout batarian space.

"Good," Garrus said, voicing his approval of the plan.

Drek nodded in agreement before turning to Shepard. "Just say the word, Commander?"

"Do it."

"Virus is uploading."

"Then let's get of here," Shepard ordered. "Our work here is done."

Chapter Text

Why am I doing this?

This wasn't the first time he asked himself this question since reluctantly agreeing to this mission. Shepard studied his reflection in the mirror. He wondered if he looked presentable enough for this psychopathic asari.

"Looking sharp, Shepard," Garrus entered the room.

"Well, I should, I got this from your closet."

Garrus laughed. "Of all the things we've done this is a first." The turian plopped himself down on one of the sofas. "Seducing a sexually crazed asari serial killer, this is prime material for the vids."

"Vids?" Shepard repeated, looking over his shoulder to see Garrus seemed to be enjoying every second of this.

"Think of the sales," Garrus pitched, "We'd have enough credits to buy a small fleet."

"Uh-huh," Shepard rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm just thinking about surviving this."

"Survive first," Garrus agreed, "accumulate sales, second."

It was good to see Garrus in a joking mood again. After their mission on Erszbat, Garrus had become very solemn and aloof. Seeing those marauders had changed him. Realizing what the fate of his people was if they lost against the Reapers had hardened his resolve.

"So why am I here?" Garrus asked, "To give you some tips?"

"Tips?" Shepard tried not to laugh. "How are those working on Liara?"

"I've been waiting for the right moment," Garrus deflected.

Shepard pulled out his leather N7 jacket. It had helped him in the past when he was looking for an easy hook up. Perhaps it would work on this asari. She was supposed to be drawn to strength and danger. The N7 designation was known throughout the galaxy for only being the best of the best humanity had to offer. He slipped his old jacket on, pleased at how it still fit him.

"I want you to suit up, Garrus."

"Am I going as your wingman?" Garrus quipped.

As tempting and amusing as that sounded, Shepard declined, "No, just your armor and sniper rifle."

"But I thought Samara-"

"I don't trust her," Shepard cut his friend off.

"What?" Garrus feigned shock. "You don't trust her because she's using you as bait to lure out a deadly serial killer who's been on the loose for the past few centuries?"

"Exactly," Shepard replied dryly.

"She is cold," Garrus agreed, "But aren't we all?"

"She's a threat," Shepard reminded him. The last thing he wanted was Garrus to forget that.

"You recruited her," Garrus observed.

"A mistake," Shepard mumbled more to himself then to his friend, "One that I might need to correct."

"Shepard?" Garrus straightened up.

"Just get your gear," Shepard turned to see Garrus was looking at him strangely. "I'll inform you of the mission before we touch down on Omega."

"Alright, Shepard," Garrus thankfully decided not to voice any objections he might have. He made his way to the doors.

"Do this discreetly." He didn't want Samara to learn that he planned on bringing some back up on this mission.

"Understood," The doors closed behind him.

Shepard looked back to the mirror, inspecting his appearance.

No, he didn't like this one bit.

"I don't like this."

"You've said that," Shepard replied, about ten times, he silently added. He realized his glibness wasn't appreciated when he found himself on the receiving end of a very frosty glare.

He didn't like it either. The idea of him being served up as bait unarmed to a predator as dangerous as this Morinth was unsettling for the first human Spectre. It didn't ease his apprehension that he was doing this for the Justicar. A person if he was honest with himself he loathed. He was also sure she reciprocated those feelings of him. The Justicar on several occasions had bluntly admitted that when her oath to him was fulfilled that she may need to kill him.

You can try, was Shepard's response. The sooner he was done with the Justicar the better it would be for the Butcher of Torfan. Shepard didn't think he's made that many mistakes since beginning this mission against the Collectors, but one of the mistakes he did make was deciding to recruit Samara. From the beginning, it was all animosity, and wariness between the former Spectre and the Justicar.

In some ways they were alike, sworn to their duty, to adhere to their own codes to carry out what they believed to be justice. They were ruthless in carrying out what was needed to be done. Their difference was in their perspective. She believed herself a protector of innocents.

Shepard snorted in amusement at the Justicar's belief she was serving the innocents. When they knew full well, she would kill those innocents if they committed some minor fracture to her beloved Justicar code. It was nice to say you were serving the innocents. It helped soothe your own troubles and allowed you to look yourself in the mirror after committing atrocities without losing your sanity, but it was a lie.

It was a lie that Shepard never bothered with. He realized long ago that it wasn't the innocents he was serving when he joined the Alliance, but an idea: To serve, and to protect humanity and to ensure their prosperity and growth. It meant doing ugly and very questionable things, but Shepard never shied away from it.

This was why the Alliance Brass turned a blind eye after the events of Torfan. Shepard had done his duty and protected humanity's interest. An action that was still felt to this day as the Hegemony funded piracy and slaving raids have declined sharply since Torfan.

The warm hands of his lover on his chest brought Shepard back into the present to see the beautiful blue eyes of Miranda Lawson looking at him with genuine concern. He covered her hands with his. "You remember the plan?"

The Justicar had wanted Shepard to go to Afterlife alone. There was no way that he was going to put his life solely in her hands. There was no trust or loyalty between them. He agreed to the stipulation to appease her, but he had his own plans.

After the Justicar told him about the mission parameters, Shepard met briefly with Garrus and Miranda to give them their own orders. They were to discreetly trail him and keep in contact on a secondary channel. So when Morinth took Shepard back to her lair, Garrus and Miranda could positions themselves to intervene if the situation escalated. He wasn't relying on the Justicar, but his friends.

"I do," she nodded tightly.

"Good," he gently squeezed her hands.

"What about Samara?"

"What about her?"

"She asked you to do this alone," Miranda pointed out.

"Is that what you me to do?"

"No," she said tensely, "but if she realizes you went behind her back that could lead to problems."

"It won't be a problem," he dismissed.

"And if it is?" She slipped her hands out of his.

"Then I'll handle it," he assured her.

Miranda nodded, "Alright."

"Commander?" EDI's avatar appeared.

"Yes, EDI?"

"Samara is requesting your presence."

"Tell her I'm on my way,"

"Understood, Commander," EDI replied, "Logging you out."

"This is it."

"Go get Garrus," he instructed, "We'll keep in contact."

"Be careful," she told him.

"I will." Shepard offered her a smile. "With you watching my back, how can I fail?"

"Good point," she kissed him.

"Let's get this done."

The threat was terminated. The dangerous predator known as Morinth was dead. The crumpled body of the asari serial killer was at Shepard's feet. Cornered and killed in the little home she had made for herself since fleeing Ilium. It had been a long and unpredictable path that led him to where he was now…

He had successfully lured her out of the shadows at Afterlife. It had taken a few simple acts of both strength and tenacity that had piqued her interest enough to emerge out from the darker corners of the Afterlife bar to introduce herself and invite him to her booth concealed in the shadows.

This would be the final test. She was measuring him in trying to figure out if he had that certain spark that she looked for in all her victims. Warriors, merchants, artists, priests, bankers, and any of the other countless victims she had tallied over the centuries shared that one singular pull that made it too tempting for Morinth to ignore, wanting that spark to feed the insatiable fire that burned within her.

Remembering the countless information he had come across in his investigation of Morinth had helped him through this final test with relative ease. He won her over by feigning to share an interest in her hobbies and beliefs. Even after a recent kill, it seemed she wasn't going to let him get away. Impressed with him she invited him back to her lair.

It was an apartment that contained her collection of trophies. The trophies of the partners she seduced and killed over the years. Some of the gifts looked very old, signaling her longevity of the unstoppable hunt that she had been enjoying throughout the centuries. He wondered what trophy of him she would have taken if she had been successful in her seduction.

He could still remember her efforts as she tried to draw the hunt to a close. She carefully sat on him, positioning herself just right on his lap to ensure maximum influence over a certain body part. The draw had been intoxicating. She manipulated him with every touch of her deft fingers, drawing and feeding on his growing desire. Her eyes dark pools of azure promised unimaginable pleasure, as her fingers continued their ministrations in an unrelenting assault on his body and senses. He could still feel the electric tingle that crawled up his spine when her lips teasingly grazed over his.

She had nearly succeeded. It was when the haze was slowly suffocating him did the first cracks of resistance begin to emerge in his subconscious. Images of a dark haired, blue eyed Cerberus Operative helped to weaken the shackles Morinth tried to mentally exert over his mind and body. Memories of his nights with Miranda on the Citadel after the battle and before his death further loosened the asari's grip on him.

The ecstasy he had felt when they were intertwined, while a sheen of sweat and a faint afterglow covered their naked bodies that reminded him of that feeling of completion which could not be duplicated or faked. Morinth's promises were a pale intimation of the real experiences he had already felt and had with Miranda. It was with that realization that finally freed him of the last threads of control Morinth had had over him.

With his renewed strength, he was now firmly in control of his mind and body. Not wanting Morinth to believe that he had successfully fought off her efforts of seduction and had been able to resist her strong alluring power. He feigned to be a captive under her spell. Shepard pretended to be her thrall, mindless and obedient to her every whim.

Believing herself triumphant, she wanted to taste her victory and seize her prize. Her biotics crackled to life, the dark energy enveloping her and casting her in a darkish blue hue.

It was when that Samara made her presence known. Entering the apartment, in a determined stance, the justicar had already called on her own biotics which provided her a light bluish glow.

Realizing at once, the dangerous trap she had triggered. Morinth turned on him, anger clouded her visage, but there was something else in her darkened gaze. It was brief, and fleeting, but Shepard knew that look: amazement upon realizing that she had not successfully enthralled him to her. Judging by the flickering lapse in her otherwise livid countenance it seemed he had been the very first to resist her.

"Mother," Morinth half snarled, and half drawled.

Samara recoiled as if struck by a biotic warp. "Don't call me that!"

"I'll never stop being your daughter," Morinth growled, "No matter how hard you try to pretend."

The two powerful asari circled each other. The power of their biotics crackled, pulling anything within reach up into the air. It was an unintentional side effect to the amount of power that these two asari had at their fingertips: That same power that they were preparing to unleash on one another.

Backing out of the dangerous and biotic charged area, all Shepard could do was watch the awesome display of biotic power. After a brief, but exhausting fight, it was clear they were evenly matched. The mother and daughter had come to an impasse. With this unexpected draw their fates had been unknowingly taken out of their hands and into Shepard's. It had fallen on him to decide who should live and who should die.

Pleading their cases and promising power and service to whomever he chose. Shepard silently mulled over his options. It was between a justicar and an Ardat-Yakshi. Despite their best attempts to distance themselves, they were similar in many ways.

Strong willed, powerful, self confident in both their skills and outlooks on the world. They were talented warriors and hunters who had spent the past few centuries honing their skills into a deadly, biotic force that few could rival. Either would be a force to reckon with against the Collectors on his mission.

It was tempting to turn on Samara for her equally powerful daughter, Morinth. Since recruiting the Justicar, Shepard believed it had been a mistake. This was a chance to fix it. However, Morinth hardly comforted him. She was an apex killer, who thrived on seducing her victims into complete thralls before killing them and in essence becoming stronger with each kill. In some ways she was riskier to recruit then Samara.

With realizing that Morinth was still the more dangerous threat, Shepard made his decision. Reluctantly, he kept his shaky alliance with Samara and helped her to finally kill her daughter; thus ending a hunt that the mother had been on for centuries. A bloody smear of flesh stained the floor of what was left of Morinth's head from Samara's deadly warp.

"It is over," Samara's shoulders slumped. The asari justicar had yet to look in the direction of her fallen daughter. Deflated, after finally killing her, the strength and power she had just radiated with her biotics waned. Looking tired and vulnerable, it seemed the Justicar was now increasingly uncomfortable being in the apartment.

"How tempting was it?"

Shepard turned to see Samara's cold eyes on him. He knew at once what she was referring to. She had noticed the slight delay he took before deciding to side with her. He was unbothered by her suspicious stare; he shrugged his shoulders, "Very."

"I see," Samara kept her expression impassive, but her eyes betrayed her true feelings. "I'm not surprised you'd be drawn to someone like Morinth."

He ignored the slight the Justicar had insinuated about the perceived similar personalities of himself and Morinth. "Actually, she reminded me more of you." He knew his words hit hard when Samara's face darkened and her nostrils flared.

"We're nothing alike."

That got a smile out of Shepard. "You really are." He turned to the crumpled body of Morinth. "The only difference was Morinth embraced the monster she became while you fight it."

"I'm no monster," Samara argued, "I am a Justicar." She raised her chin imperiously, "and just because you are unable to understand my Order's importance and standing amongst the Asari that does not give you the right to sully our reputation and purpose."

Shepard knew this conversation was heading somewhere dangerous. They were nearing a place of no return. The tension between them had been building up since he first recruited her. They had yet to find an outlet to properly voice their dislike and judgment from one another and this was turning out to be it. If they weren't careful in what was said or did, then a confrontation between them was imminent.

Then again Shepard had been expecting a confrontation ever since Samara had declared her oath was the only reason why she hadn't turned on Shepard. An oath that Shepard was supposed to take with blinding trust as if he had no reason to be concerned with her because of this oath. To take her at her word with this oath would be a mistake on Shepard's part. This was a culture and an order that he only had a limited understanding of.

Oath or no oath if this conversation was allowed to continue then it was clear that a deadly conflict was all but certain. A conflict he was sure that only one of them would walk away from.

"I have studied your history, Shepard," Samara said bluntly, "You are responsible for the loss of many innocent lives."

"I do what it takes to get the job done," Shepard replied tersely.

"Is that why you abandoned the lives of nearly ten thousand crewmembers on-board the Destiny Ascension?" She challenged, "Or was it because you allowed your emotions to cloud your duty and condemned them because of your hatred for the Council."

"I don't have to defend my actions to you," Shepard growled. He looked over her shoulders to see that Garrus and Miranda had remained in their position at an apartment complex parallel to their position; Allowing them a perfect view of inside Morinth's apartment. He had instructed them about a signal that if he gave it, Garrus would take the shot whether it was Morinth or Samara.

"You think just because you adhere to some code, that you joined some order that gives you the right to judge me?" Shepard spat.

Samara bristled at the criticism, instinctively her biotics flared to life. "Even with my oath, Shepard, I will defend myself." Her body gave off a bluish hue because of the biotics. "My duty is first and foremost to the Order."

This was it, he realized: The place of no return. He knew what needed to be done.

Shepard gave the signal.

There was no time for Samara to react. Her biotics were snuffed in an instant. It was a clean, quick, and probably a painless death. Her body slumped to the ground.

"She's dead," Shepard confirmed.

"Good," Miranda said, her voice crackled in his ear.

"I'll meet you at our rendezvous point."

"See you there," Miranda replied, before the comm. Channel went silent.

He spared the justicar's body one more look. It wasn't what he wanted, but in the end it was what needed to be done. She was a liability to their mission and needed to be dealt with. He wouldn't let her jeopardize his duty, nor did he want her looming over him as a potential threat once the Collectors were dealt with. She and her ideals brought this on herself.

Shepard was at the rendezvous point. He hoped Garrus and Miranda wouldn't be long. Every time he came to Omega, his dislike for the station only grew. It was a place that thrived on misery. Where it's self proclaimed Queen ruled with an iron fist, caring more about maintaining her power and influence then helping the millions of people who were struggling on the station. She allowed slavers, pirates, and other unsavory characters to thrive as long as they paid her fealty. He knew Omega would never change as long as Aria controlled the station.

So many people had come to Omega believing it a place for fresh starts and second chances. They had been deceived. Not aware of the universal suffering and desolation that plagued this place. Now, they were enslaved to Omega's way of life. Caught up in the torrent of misery, they were forced to be cogs to keep it maintained and operational. Too weak or poor to break away from the hell they unknowingly walked into.

Everywhere he turned he saw despair and poverty. He sighed. Knowing, he was using the gloom of Omega to distract him from what happened in Morinth's apartment. He didn't regret his decision. Losing Samara was a setback for the mission, her biotics were powerful, but he was sure that the squad could overcome her loss and succeed in their fight against the Collectors.

"Shepard."

Shit, he knew at once who that voice belonged to; turning around to see his former companion, Kaidan Alenko walking towards him. Dressed in his Spectre armor and carrying a pistol that was directed at Shepard, the few people around were quick to vacate the streets to give the two humans some space.

Shepard instinctively brought his hand to his hip only to realize he wasn't carrying any weapons, because of his recent mission. Damn, he silently cursed. He still had his omni-tool, and could possibly use it if needed to disarm Kaidan. Not to mention, Miranda and Garrus would be returning shortly. He just needed to stall Alenko until then.

"How long have you been waiting for me?"

"A while," Kaidan answered, "I had a feeling you would come back here."

"Perceptive of you," Shepard needed to keep Kaidan distracted until Garrus and Miranda arrived.

"I didn't want this, Shepard," Kaidan declared, keeping his pistol leveled on Shepard.

"Yes, you did," Shepard growled, anger bubbled up towards Kaidan and his pathetic attempt at trying to justify what he was doing. "You can lie to yourself, Alenko," he added acidly, "But don't lie to me."

Kaidan shook his head. "You were my friend." His tone was pleading. "When you died it was like losing a limb."

"I've heard this before." Shepard stopped the second human Spectre from going any further down this particular path. "Have you forgotten what's at stake?"

"No, I haven't."

"You have," Shepard was nodding, "You've forgotten the warnings on Virmire and Ilos."

"It's not that simple, Shepard," Kaidan argued.

"Then explain it to me," he gestured to the pistol in Kaidan's hand and then to himself.

"I'm doing my part," his defense was flat.

"You're ignoring the Reaper threat, betraying me!" Shepard growled, "And for what, a pat on the head from Udina and the rest of the Council?" He looked at his former friend in disgust. "You're pathetic."

"I…I," Kaidan's voice wavered.

"I realize now I made a mistake," Shepard pressed the advantage. "On Virmire, I should've saved Ash. She understood loyalty. She wouldn't have turned on me like you." He knew the words stung. They were supposed to.

The words hit their mark. Kaidan reacted as if punched in the gut. Doubt came to his expression, lowering his pistol and looking at it as if he had never seen it before. "You're right," he admitted softly.

"I was scared," Kaidan confessed. "I am scared." He corrected, "I mean a deadly highly advanced race of synthetic starships whose whole purpose is the extermination of all life in relentless cycles that come every fifty thousand years." He holstered his pistol. "I didn't want to believe it."

Shepard couldn't fault Kaidan for being afraid of the Reapers. Their purpose was terrifying. He himself had stayed awake on countless occasions unable to sleep with their looming threat haunting his dreams. It was the stuff of nightmares. However, it never stopped him from doing what needed to be done.

"And then you died," Kaidan continued, "It was just easier to forget about the Reapers." He ducked his head. "It wasn't the right thing to do, I admit it, but without you, the Council and the Alliance swiftly and uncompromisingly silenced anyone who spoke up about the Reaper threat."

"Shepard!" Garrus appeared, looking confused as he turned from Shepard to Kaidan. His hold on his assault rifle tightened when his eyes stayed on the second human Spectre.

"Is there a problem here?" Miranda asked coldly, coming up alongside Garrus. She had her pistol raised and aimed at Kaidan, looking for a reason to use it.

"No," Kaidan wasn't phased by the open hostility he was receiving from Garrus and Miranda. "There isn't a problem." He stepped aside to let Shepard pass.

Surprised, but a little relieved by Kaidan's change, Shepard walked past his former companion and friend.

"Shepard," Kaidan stopped him. "I'm sorry," he paused, looking uncertain, "for everything." He held out his hand.

Shepard looked down at the hand. It was an unexpected olive branch. After Horizon, he had thrown aside his friendship with Kaidan, and dismissed his former brother-in-arms. He never thought the opportunity would present itself for reconciliation between the two friends. This wasn't something to ignore. In hardships it was your friends that kept you going, and Kaidan had been one of them during their time hunting down Saren.

He shook Kaidan's hand. "What are you going to tell the Council?"

"That I just missed you," Kaidan smiled.

That got a chuckle out of Shepard and Garrus. Even Miranda relaxed a bit after his words, lowering her pistol.

"Good luck in your mission, Shepard," Kaidan said, "And when you're ready to fight the Reapers let me know."

"I will," Shepard promised.

"It'll be just like old times," Garrus added, shaking Kaidan's hand too.

"No," Shepard corrected, looking over at Miranda, and remembering the countless new friends and allies they've gathered during this mission against the Collectors. "It'll be better."

"Everyone, you lost everyone," Miranda stormed into the communication room. She sounded incredulous but looked furious, "And damn near lost the ship too."

"I know, alright," Joker replied, too tired to add a sarcastic remark. "I was here!"

The Normandy was hauntingly quiet ever since the Collectors pulled off a surprise attack on the Cerberus frigate, capturing the entire crew except for Joker. It was a defeat. It was retaliation for Shepard's success on Horizon and on the Collector Ship. They struck hard and fast. The result left Shepard and his squad jilted and wary. Now, here in the communications room some of the squad had gathered, voicing their opinions, assessing the damage and weighing their options in how best to move forward. In the end, it was up to Shepard to decide what their next move was.

"It's not his fault, Miranda," Jacob jumped in to defend the pilot. "None of us caught it."

EDI's avatar suddenly appeared. "Mr. Taylor is correct. The harmful data in the Collector drive was even more sophisticated than the black box Reaper viruses I was given."

Shepard turned to his sullen pilot. It was clear the ordeal had taken its toll on Joker. Sitting on the table, head in his hands, eyes distant. "How are you holding up, Joker?"

Joker raised his head. "There are a lot of empty chairs in here."

Guilt, Shepard picked up. It was a common reaction to survivors of combat. Questioning why they survived when no one else did. It was a terrible burden, carrying the ghosts of all the people who perished while you try to trudge forward.

"You did the best you could," Garrus consoled, patting Joker on the shoulder. "It's always hard to lose people," his expression darkened the way it always did when he was forced to remember Sidonis' betrayal.

Joker gave Garrus a thankful nod, before lowering his head once more into his hands.

"What about this virus?" Shepard asked, directing the conversation back on point. "We can't risk another attack like this."

"We purged the systems," Joker gestured to the AI's avatar. "The Reaper IFF is online. We can go through the Omega 4 relay whenever you want."

"Don't even get me started about unshackling a damned AI," Miranda crossed her arms.

"What could I do against the Collectors, break my arm at them?" came Joker's sarcastic reply. "EDI cleared the ship. She's alright."

"I assure you I am still bound by protocols in my programming," EDI pointed out in an attempt to try to pacify the hostility at her new found freedom. "Even if I were not, you are my crewmates."

"It's done," Shepard cut in, knowing Miranda wasn't too thrilled with either EDI or Joker's reaction.

It was clear this attack had unnerved her. She was furious, but since she couldn't channel her frustrations on the Collectors she was unfairly directing it on Joker. The pilot wasn't a soldier or an operative trained in combat, he did the best he could with what he had.

"It's because of Joker and EDI we still have the Normandy," Shepard pointed out to Miranda.

Miranda took his words with a sigh, before finally giving him a curt nod, conveying that she understood the need to back off and cool down some.

"So what's our next move, Shepard?" Garrus asked.

"Are we going after the crew?" Jacob followed up.

It was tempting, but they weren't ready yet. The Normandy wasn't fully upgraded. If they went now they'd be letting their emotions get the better of them. He wasn't sure what to expect when they went through the Omega 4 Relay but he wanted his squad and his ship to be ready for anything.

"No," he decided, "The crew understood this was a suicide mission." He understood that he was condemning his crew to be tortured, experimented and likely killed at the hands of the Collectors, but they all understood the dangers of this mission when they signed up.

"Their sacrifices will not be forgotten," he promised them, "We will bring the fight to the Collectors, this I swear." He turned to each and every one of them, "But it will be on our terms when we're a hundred percent ready," he vowed.

"Understood, Commander," Miranda replied crisply.

The others only nodded; Joker was taking his decision the hardest.

"We'll be at our stations, Commander," Jacob saluted before leaving.

"You know where I'll be," Garrus joked in an effort to lighten the mood. He left, but not before tapping Joker on the shoulder.

"I'll be in the cock pit," Joker said sullenly, easing himself off of the table.

"We did everything we could, Jeff," EDI reminded him.

"Thanks, Mom," the pilot replied, before hobbling out of the room.

"EDI, I'll want constant reports," Shepard told the now unshackled AI. Without the crew, it now fell on EDI to keep The Normandy going. He was a bit wary about the AI's new freedom, but after recruiting a geth known as Legion, he was willing to give EDI a little trust.

"Understood, Commander," EDI's avatar disappeared.

"You're making the right decision, Shepard," Miranda said, gently grabbing his hand. "It's not the easy one, buts it the right one."

"We will stop the Collectors." He squeezed her hand, thankful for her support. "And I'm going to make sure we survive it."

Chapter Text

The nightmares were always the same.

It had been more than a week since the Collector Base Mission, but she couldn't forget the horrors she had seen and experienced. It was called a Suicide Mission from the onset, and for good reason. They lost a lot of people to the Collectors. The majority of the crew had been killed before they had even arrived to the Base. Less than a dozen remained including Dr. Chakwas, Engineers Daniels and Donnelly.

The crew wasn't the only one who suffered fatalities. Before going down, the Collectors took down members of their squad-Jack, Mordin, and Thane. All of whom were killed in various parts of the mission.

When she closed her eyes, she could still hear Jack's screams as the biotic was pulled up by the Seeker Swarms. Shepard had silenced her bringing an end to her suffering when he shot her while she was being carried off.

No one deserved that, she thought numbly. Jack had provided them a biotic bubble and had nearly reached the chambers when a husk dropped down on her. The bubble dissipated, Miranda quickly summoned another one, but Jack was out of its reach. She fought off the husk, but the Seeker swarm had gotten her.

Mordin had perished escorting the surviving crewmen back to the Normandy. The Collectors had ambushed them, the salarian scientist held them off so that the others could reach the Cerberus frigate in time. His death had not been in vain, they had survived.

Thane fell during the last stand. He with the others held off the Collectors so that Shepard, Miranda, and Garrus could finish the mission. His sacrifice allowed them to end the Collector threat once and for all.

Not wanting to dwell on ghosts, she looked out her viewport. She immediately regretted the decision as the looming Collector Base drew her attention away from the blackness of space and the sea of ancient ruined starships. Since the Normandy survived the Omega 4 Relay due to the IFF, Cerberus had sent a handful of science teams through the Relay.

She had met them briefly, put off by their unbridled enthusiasm and excitement for studying the Collector Base and technology. There was no grief amongst them. They didn't know the names of those who perished to defeat the Collectors. They hadn't earned the right to study this base. They hadn't fought for it. They were just given it. It was wrong.

Miranda wasn't sure she shared their sentiment. She had been surprised and mildly appalled when the Illusive Man had first broached the idea of preserving the Base instead of destroying it. She understood at that point that had been his objective all along. He had never wanted to destroy the base. That was simply a rallying cry to gather allies to their cause. No, it was evident in his tone, that he desired the base with every facet of his being. He lusted after the power and potential that the Base held.

He didn't mind how many humans had perished under the Collector Experiments. He didn't seem to care that a number of the Normandy's crew and squad members who he had recruited had died in this Base. They were all expendable to him. They didn't seem to matter. All that matter was seeing to the preservation of the Collector Base.

Even after she voiced her own doubts, he dismissed them quickly and firmly. It was then that she realized she too was expendable. It was a crushing truth that she was forced to swallow. It cast a new light on her involvement with Cerberus and her own association with them.

She was confronted with the ugly truth that in witnessing the Illusive Man's attempts to keep the Base that she was looking into a mirror. During her studies of the rachni and creepers, they had lost personnel, but she had never minded. She had deemed them expendable in their pursuit of their objectives of breeding an army that would fight for Cerberus.

It made her sick. She had rarely left her room since Shepard had decided to listen to the Illusive Man and save the Base. His decision had stung more then she thought it would. He had vetoed her choice and dismissed her concerns and had wholeheartedly agreed with the Illusive Man. Shepard had believed that the Collector Base was instrumental in stopping the Reapers and only a fool would destroy that opportunity.

She could still remember their heated debate when they returned to the Normandy

You're jeopardizing the soul of humanity! She accused.

I will do whatever it takes to ensure the survival of humanity, he had responded in a cold firm voice.

She hadn't spoken to Shepard since their incident. According to EDI, Shepard was spending a lot of his time at the Collector Base. He was engrossed in the technology. He was absorbing the information and research as quickly as the Cerberus teams were uncovering it. They sent him all of their reports, and he spent the majority of his nights reading them. He was also regularly speaking with the Illusive Man. Miranda wasn't privy to their discussions, but if they were like her past briefings with the Head of Cerberus then they were probably exchanging ideas and plans of how best to move forward.

Shepard's behavior was troubling her. She couldn't ignore the lingering fear that gripped her at seeing the changes he was going through. Her only solace in these troubling times had been in her messages to her sister, Oriana. They talked every day. Her sister was a source of levity that Miranda sorely needed.

She was careful in what she said to Oriana. Miranda was aware that her messages were probably being read by Cerberus. She kept them brief, and did her best to deflect the attention away from herself, her mission, and her current relationship with Shepard. Oriana was insistent, but she seemed to understand that Miranda couldn't divulge much and didn't press too often. Something that Miranda was extremely grateful for.

In talking with Oriana, Miranda almost felt normal. She wasn't the pragmatic Cerberus Operative on a mission, but the big sister listening and trying and mostly failing at giving advice to her younger sister. It was a deceiving feeling, since Miranda knew she would never be normal. Nor was it something that she actually wanted to strive for. It was only in her moments with Oriana did she feel that normal could be a good thing because that was what she wanted: A normal relationship with her sister.

At the moment, it seemed her relationship with Oriana was all she had. That and the ghosts of those they lost during the Collector Base assault, as well as the nightmares.

None of us are coming out of here without scars.

She remembered those words from Shepard's stirring speech. He had been right. She only hoped these scars would heal.

Miranda found herself with the surviving members of the squad in the Communication room. It had been the first time since the immediate aftermath of the Collector Base mission that everyone had gathered together. She had only seen glimpses of the other squad members following the mission. It was mostly during meals.

She never stayed long for conversation. There wasn't much to discuss. No one wanted to talk about the ordeal of the Collector Base. Even Grunt was subdued. The tank bred krogan who lusted for battle and loved combat didn't seem too inclined to want to revel in the mission.

Her musings were interrupted by the swoosh of the doors. She looked to see Shepard walk in. The first thing she noticed was that he was in the Cerberus Assault Armor. It validated her suspicions of his growing involvement with them.

With us, she reminded herself. She too was with Cerberus. Yet, realizing Shepard's role in the organization was growing didn't please her as much as she once thought it would. She could still remember her pleading him to join them in the aftermath of the Battle of the Citadel. She had been frustrated when he refused. Ironically, now that he seemed to be joining them, she wasn't delighted, but concerned.

Her doubts with Cerberus were slowly taking form in the aftermath of the Collector Base mission. While Shepard's beliefs in the organization only seemed to grow. Would they pass each other? Her drifting away while he ascended further up. She hadn't given up on Cerberus or Shepard. It was just for the first time since she was with the organization she was having doubts about them.

She used to mock Jacob when he first spoke up about his reservations. She used to argue with Shepard when he pointed out well meaning criticisms. She used to bristle when the Alliance would slander them. Now, here she was with her own doubts and concerns.

"We'll be traveling out of the system tomorrow," Shepard announced suddenly.

It was about time, she thought to herself. She was bloody sick of seeing the Collector Base from her viewport. A forceful reminder of the harrowing ordeal they went through and the pain and loss they experienced. At feeling the accusing eyes of the ghosts of those who perished as the source of their death still remained intact. She was tired of the screams that haunted her of the crew being liquefied in the Collector Experiments. At looking out and seeing the hundreds of ruined starships all of whom were destroyed by the Collectors. They might have been destroyed but the legacy of the Collectors was everywhere she looked. She was sick of it.

She wasn't the only one. Looking around she could see everyone else seemed pleased at the news that they were leaving this accursed place. Like her, none of them had wanted to linger in this place. It was filled with death and ghosts.

"Where are we heading?" Garrus asked.

Miranda had discovered that it wasn't just her whose relationship had been strained from Shepard's decision. She had heard Shepard and Garrus arguing about the Commander's choice. Garrus wasn't thrilled at the idea of Cerberus getting their hands on Collector technology and having access to the Base. He too hadn't been comfortable at Shepard's decision of not destroying the Base.

She could still remember the truce she and Garrus had agreed to when he was first recruited. Over the course since then no friendship had formed, but a mutual feeling of respect. And now here they were both agreeing that the Base should have been destroyed not preserved. It was amusing.

"Illium," Shepard answered, resting his hands on the table. "Cerberus gave us a lead for a new mission."

This was the first Miranda had heard of this. It seemed she was out of the loop now. During their suicide mission every dossier went through her computer before Shepard ever received them. Now, it seemed she had been bypassed and Cerberus Intelligence was now working directly with the Commander.

On the Illusive Man's orders, she imagined. She wasn't sure if it was because he was trusting Shepard more or her less. Or maybe it was both.

"For those who aren't interested in the mission," Shepard continued, "Illium should be able to connect you to any world you wish to travel to. You will be paid for your services. And Cerberus thanks you for your effort."

Cerberus thanks you, Miranda frowned at his choice of phrase. She couldn't remember him ever saying it like that before. She didn't like it.

"What's the mission?" Again that was Garrus. The turian sounded torn between his loyalty in wanting him to stay with Shepard or his recent grudge telling him to leave.

"Cerberus has provided us with a lead for going after the Shadow Broker," Shepard informed them. "I'm hoping to give it to Liara and together we can put the Broker out of business."

That got everyone's attention, she noticed. The reaction was evident from both Garrus and Tali. Garrus didn't hide his interest in wanting to work with the information broker and former companion during their chase against Saren. Despite her faceplate, Miranda could read the quarian's body language and she seemed excited at the prospect of reuniting with her friend, Liara.

The others looked more indifferent at the revelation that this fight would be against the Shadow Broker.

"I don't need to hear your answers now," Shepard told them. "You all have until we arrive to Illium to make up your mind." He looked around the room.

"Dismissed," He turned and left.

Their eyes met only for the briefest of seconds, and she didn't like what she saw. She didn't listen to the growing conversation between Garrus and Tali at the idea of seeing and fighting with Liara again like old times. When she left the communication room, the Shadow Broker was the furthest things from her mind.

Left behind, she couldn't remember the last time she had been left behind on a mission. When Shepard had decided to go to the Dracon Trade Center he had elected to bring Garrus and Tali. Leaving what remained of his squad back on the Normandy. Miranda had argued that it would be smarter for Shepard to take more than just Garrus and Tali, knowing that they would be going up against the Shadow Broker forces. Again, he had discarded her advice.

There weren't many squad members left. Grunt had decided to return to Tuchanka to learn what it meant to be krogan. Legion too had taken the information it had gathered back beyond the Veil. That meant beside her, only Jacob, Drek, and Shiala remained.

Unable to stay in the Normandy, Miranda had gone off to the Illium markets. She watched the crowds of people shopping, talking, and laughing, oblivious to the ominous threat that was looming over them. They are unaware of how close they are to the inevitable invasion of the Reapers. The Collectors had been dealt with, but it was a minor defeat for the Reapers. To them nothing will stop the cycle.

She felt no pity towards them only anger. They refused to see the truth. Even after Sovereign's invasion and the Collector abductions they wouldn't accept such an external threat that had the potential to wipe out all organic life. Miranda remembered how frustrated she had been with Shepard after the Battle of the Citadel at his inability to see that the Council wasn't going to acknowledge the Reaper threat. He hoped they would see the truth, and that hope had led to his death.

"These people are in for a rude awakening."

She turned to see Drek was standing at the nearby kiosk looking at the omni-tool upgrades. "Yes, they are."

"They're not the only ones," Drek mused bitterly.

Miranda remembered Drek mentioning his attempts at trying to make contact with several of his associates in Khar'shan. "You're not having any luck?"

"No," he said, "They won't listen." He shook his head. "No one wants to listen."

In the aftermath of the geth assault on the Citadel that refusal to see the truth had been universal. No one wanted to believe this Reaper threat. They couldn't fathom an enemy so powerful, so ruthless.

"They'll see soon enough."

"Yeah," Drek looked distant. "My people don't have that luxury."

She understood what he meant. The batarians were isolated. They had no formal alliances with any of the other Council Races. Their history of slavery and piracy didn't help. Neither did their government. If the Reapers did invade the batarian homeworld, she found it doubtful that any of the citadel races would lend any sort of aid.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'll bypass the government and military," Drek responded casually. "I'll try to get a message out directly to the people. Show them the facts about the Reapers and the threat they pose."

"Can you do that?" Miranda knew enough about the batarian government to know the tight control they hold over the media and how the government approves of everything that is broadcasted. They apply heavy censorship on the extranet to make sure they remain in control of the news.

"I'll find a way." He looked and sounded determined. "My people's existence is counting on it."

"Let me know if you need anything," she told him.

He seemed surprised by her offer. "I will." He ended up buying an upgrade for his omni-tool. "And thanks."

"We're in this together," she reminded him.

Drek's response was silenced by the simultaneous beeping of their omni-tools alerting them of an incoming message. It was from EDI.

"All personnel report back to the Normandy."

It appeared Shepard and the others had finished their mission.

A major change had just happened. An impact that would be felt throughout the galaxy, yet the galaxy remained oblivious to this new incredible shift of power. There was a new Shadow Broker. The influential, powerful, notorious being who had its own private army and legion of operatives had been replaced. Shepard's friend, Liara had made the life altering decision of filling the void and becoming the next Shadow Broker when they killed the previous one.

Miranda was surprised by the decision. She had never really seen the asari in such a role. She was skilled in combat and biotics and had served as an influential information broker, but the Shadow Broker would require more than that. It would require a certain ruthlessness that Miranda didn't think Liara possessed. What was important to remember was that they had not only taken down a powerful enemy but had gained an equally powerful ally in their fight with the Reapers. Using the Broker's network and agents to prepare for the Reapers would be a major boost.

Now, Miranda Lawson found herself walking through the impressively built Shadow Broker ship responding to a surprising request from Liara, the new Shadow Broker wanted to meet with her.

Stepping out of the office was Garrus Vakarian. Moving in a way that Miranda could only describe as a strut, noticing a pleased look on the turian's face, his mandibles twitching in what she believed to resemble a smile. Miranda remembered Shepard mentioning Garrus' interest in Liara, judging by Garrus' current attitude it seemed the feeling had been mutual.

Garrus finally noticed her. He dialed back his strut, coughing awkwardly in an attempt to remove his very pleased smile with himself. "Miranda," he greeted her cordially.

"Garrus," she returned the greeting. Making sure no amusement squeaked into her tone.

"Liara is waiting for you," Garrus fumbled for a line that would steer away from his reason for leaving Liara's office in his current mood.

"Thank you," it took some effort to stop herself from smiling. "I'll see you on the ship."

Garrus nodded, "of course." He seemed grateful that their brief, but awkward conversation was over.

Miranda didn't look back when she passed Garrus. She instead went right to the door, knocking when she arrived. Liara's voice was muffled, but her words were clear. Beckoning her in, Miranda opened the door to see a very large room. Two of the three walls were covered with monitors. There was however, two richly plush couches. As well as an elegant glass table. Miranda noticed the two wineglasses that were on the table as well as the two different wine bottles-one for turians and one for asari.

"Thank you for coming," Liara was standing by one of the walls covered in monitors. Her fingers typing away at the console while her eyes drifted towards the various screens with ease.

"How's it coming?"

"It's overwhelming," Liara admitted, "all the information he possessed." She looked over her shoulder at Miranda. "He knew what the Collectors were."

"Protheans?" Miranda guessed.

Liara confirmed it with a nod. "Yes, it seems he was trying to find away to survive what was coming."

"By allying with the Reapers?" Miranda didn't think much of the Broker's plan. If he knew about them and the Cycles before then he should have figured out that the Reapers didn't treat their allies well. The Broker was fooling himself if he thought he'd have a better fate then either Saren or the Collectors. Those former allies of the Reapers had been indoctrinated; stripped of their free will and implanted with so much Reaper Tech they no longer resembled their former selves.

"Desperation makes us see things differently," Liara pointed out.

"Perhaps," Miranda had seen desperate people do foolish things. She didn't think it was good enough to excuse the behavior and the actions that the Broker had done. Including working with the Collectors and trying to give them Shepard's body.

"Is this why you wanted to see me?"

"In part," Liara typed one final message before turning away from the wall of screens. She gestured to the two couches. Miranda followed, Liara looked a bit sheepish when she grabbed the turian wine bottle, quickly putting it out of sight.

"It's not just the Protheans that the Broker was well informed on." Liara continued when she realized Miranda was going to stay quiet. "Going through the Broker's database I discovered he had cameras and bugs installed onto the new Normandy."

That was expected. After exposing Wilson to be working for the Broker, Miranda had a feeling that the Broker had other agents that had infiltrated the Lazarus Cell. It was disappointing to know the Broker and his agents had succeeded in bugging the Normandy, but it wasn't a surprise.

"He was gathering information on Shepard, the crew, and the squad," Liara explained.

It was then that Miranda noticed Liara's expression softened, and the asari looked somewhat apprehensive.

"He knew about you and Shepard," Liara revealed. She looked uncomfortable for broaching the subject.

Miranda didn't respond right away. Fury directed at the Broker slowly began to simmer in her gut. It was further fueled by the thoughts of him spying on the personal and intimate moments she shared with Shepard. They went to such great lengths to keep their relationship private to protect themselves, but all this time it was an allusion. Who knew what the Broker had seen or worse recorded when it came to her and Shepard?

She hadn't been surprised at the thought of the Broker's agents getting a few bugs installed into the Normandy. However, she had carefully canvassed her quarters and Shepards to remove all of the bugs that Cerberus planted to guarantee privacy. To think that she had missed some that had directly streamed into the Broker's network was unnerving and frustrating.

"I am sorry," Liara's genuine apology broke through Miranda's internal musings.

"Why?" Miranda found herself asking.

"Pardon?" Liara's painted brows furrowed together.

"Why tell me?" She appreciated it, but the cold, calculating Cerberus Operative persona could only admonish Liara's decision. The information about Miranda and Shepard was a powerful secret that if properly wielded could yield promising results. Instead Liara just told it to Miranda with no strings attached. It was befuddling.

"It was the right thing to do," Liara said without hesitation. "I care for Shepard," she then amended, "he is my friend." She then turned to Miranda looking serious when she added. "You might not know it, but you've been good for him."

"They may not know about your relationship with Shepard," Liara continued, "but Dr. Chakwas, Joker, Tali, Garrus have only said positive things about you. They respect you."

That caught Miranda off guard. She hadn't been expecting acceptance. She was use to adulation, but was taken aback at the source of this praise. She understood the importance of it. These were coming from Shepard's closest friends, and to think that they respected her brought a certain relief that Miranda hadn't been expecting.

"I'm worried about him," Liara confessed. "His growing association with Cerberus has led to some troubling changes."

"I agree." Miranda admitted, she swallowed the smile that threatened to slip past her serious demeanor when she saw Liara's surprised expression. It was clear that the new Shadow Broker wasn't expecting it. "His fascination with the Collector base has worried me."

"He carries a tremendous burden," Liara sighed. As if trying to find an excuse to justify her friend's shifting change in character. "I'm afraid of the path he'll choose to take when it comes to destroy the Reapers."

"He's become more distant," Miranda found herself admitting. "He spends all of his time in the Base studying the technology and meeting with Cerberus scientists and the Illusive Man."

She surprised herself with her own candor. The surprise was soon replaced with relief that she was finally able to voice her concerns and fears of Shepard. Liara knowing of their relationship finally gave Miranda a forum and she wasn't going to squander it.

So they talked for what felt like hours comparing notes and observations, discussing options and scenarios, and trying to figure out solutions and get answers. When it was over, Miranda found herself refreshed. It felt as if a great burden had been lifted off her shoulders. She no longer had to silently carry it alone. She had help.

"Garrus is concerned too." Liara observed when their impromptu meeting drew to a close.

Miranda took a generous sip of her wine. She couldn't remember when Liara offered the wine during their hours long meeting, but she had been most welcoming of it. "I suppose I could talk to him from time to time." Miranda tentatively put forward. She still wasn't sure of the turian. She respected his skill and his loyalty to Shepard, but there was still a small part of her that was wary to trust him.

"I think you both could use it," Liara seemed to sense her apprehension and took it with amusement. "He'll deny it with a terrible joke, but he cares for Shepard a great deal." She pushed herself out of her seat, still holding her glass of wine. "Garrus frets over him like an old maid." That got a giggle out of Liara and even Miranda couldn't help but smile at that potential image.

"I can talk to him," Miranda decided. If Shepard and Liara trusted Garrus, then she should have no problem trusting him. It wasn't because of anything Garrus did. It was on Miranda through her upbringing and her training with Cerberus, it had made her cautious and more difficult to trust others.

Liara looked pleased at the decision. "Excellent." She moved towards her terminal. "I have something for you."

"Something for me?" Miranda wasn't expecting that.

"Yes," Liara retrieved a data chip that she unplugged from the console. "This was all the Intel that the Broker had on you." She held it out to her. "This is the only copy. There are no backups."

Miranda was speechless. She looked down at the small data chip in Liara's hand. She tentatively took it, immensely grateful for the gesture. Miranda understood what this information could do to her in the wrong hands. "Thank you."

Liara smiled, "Friends look out for one another."

Friends, it was strange for Miranda, but she couldn't think of a reason to rebut it. It was funny to think of Liara as a friend now. A lot has changed since their first meeting all those years ago. Then, their meeting was overshadowed by the body of Shepard. His death had impacted them both tremendously, and the two shared the need in wanting to bring the Commander back to life.

Now, here they were together again under another common cause. To save Shepard once more, but this time to make sure he didn't lose himself in his endeavor to stop the Reapers. It was no easy task, but then again when it came to Miranda and Liara nothing they accomplished seemed easy.

Chapter Text

Three hundred thousand lives perished in a near blink. Unknowing victims in a great war that their government and most of the galaxy refused to believe was being waged. A war that for the moment was being fought in the shadows, but that would soon change. If the enemy had its way then at this very moment it would've revealed itself to the galaxy in an unprecedented invasion that would've swept through the galaxy with devastating precision and ruthless execution amongst the populace.

Shepard prevented that for the moment. He halted the Reapers attempts to access the important Alpha Relay, a decision that meant destroying the relay and condemning those who live in the system to death. To Shepard, it was a decision he made without hesitation. He saved those people from being harvested. To be at the mercy of the Reapers, to be tortured and twisted, inserted with Reaper tech to become mindless monsters or to be indoctrinated and an unwilling tool to further advance the Reapers efforts.

The loss of three hundred thousand lives never seemed so inconsequential. There was no heavy burden for him. There was no grief or doubt that he had to wrestle with because of the decision he made. He returned to the Normandy with a clear conscious. He knew he had done the right thing. He understood in the war to come that if they lost only three hundred thousand lives in one battle with the Reapers that would be considered a victory. And that's what today was: A victory against the Reapers.

He was no fool to expect the rest of the galaxy to share his perspective. Shepard was certain the galaxy by and large would view this as either a terrorist attack carried out by a rogue Spectre working for a human centric organization or an act of war by humanity on the Hegemony. The proof he had on the Reapers involvement was destroyed with the rest of the system.

The person he had intended to save, Dr. Amanda Kenson had perished along with her indoctrinated coworkers whose ignorance to the Reapers incredible power proved to be their downfall. It was another telling example of how whenever anyone got close to uncovering any sort of weakness about the Reapers they would be enthralled and forced into the role of pawn. The closer you got to them, the more certain you were to fall.

"Your time will come. Your species will fall. Prepare yourself for the Arrival."

Harbinger's taunt stayed with him. The looming glowing silhouette of the Reaper known as Harbinger confronting Shepard before the asteroid would crash into the Alpha Relay. Offering little insight and simply spewing more of its typical rhetoric of the inevitable fate of doom and death that awaited him and the rest of the galaxy once the Reapers arrived.

He had silenced Sovereign. He would silence this one too. When his shuttle finally touched down inside the Normandy, he made a beeline straight to the communications room. He was expecting it empty. He was wrong. Inside waiting for him were his squad mates who still remained with him.

"What have you done?" Miranda demanded before the doors behind Shepard had even closed.

He squared his shoulders back. He was expecting this. He knew they'd be upset that he undertook this mission discreetly and alone. And after what had happened and the choices he had to make, he knew there would be even more questions.

"I struck a blow against the Reapers," he answered simply. He noticed the annoyance flicker over her perfect features. The open distrust and antagonism in the room especially between himself and Miranda highlighted their very strained relationship. If there was one thing he regretted since saving the Collector Base it was allowing their relationship to disintegrate.

He was so focused on the Reapers and trying to find a way to stop them. He knew he was letting things slip away. Their initial argument about the Base's fate wasn't any different than any of their other disagreements which they had in the past. Those times they would meet again, speak civilly share each other's viewpoints, and if they couldn't come to an agreement, they would at least come to an understanding of respect.

That didn't happen this time. He allowed it to fester. He was so distracted that he had made no effort or attempt at reaching out to her since that initial argument. Instead, bitterness remained and any and all conversations since then have been sour and brief. All because he had been too busy to speak with her again, to follow up on their argument that had taken place weeks ago.

Had it been that long? He thought numbly.

"By destroying a relay?" Miranda didn't bother to hide her doubt.

"I would destroy a lot more if it meant an end to the Reapers," Shepard replied without hesitation. His words stirred predictable reactions from his friends.

"Shepard…" Garrus' mandibles twitched. "What you're doing…"

"Is necessary!" Shepard shouted, the anger was pulsating in his gut. "We're not fighting a war!" He could see his outburst had silenced them so he seized it. "We're staving off fucking genocide!"

He looked at each of them. Garrus' uneasiness, Jacob's confliction, Miranda's uncertainty, Tali's fear, Shiala's pain, but when his eyes turned to Drek, he could read nothing from the impassive batarian.

The pause allowed him to soothe the burning anger that was radiating inside of him. His frustration faded, allowing him to realize just how sore and weary he was from the recent mission. He had been gone for days, held prisoner, before fighting to escape just to slip out with only seconds to spare.

This was the last thing he needed or wanted. Instead, he decided it was about time to address the bigger issue that his companions were still mulling over.

"I know you're upset with my decision to save the Base," he knew he had hit the bulls eye by seeing how they reacted to this change of subject. "And allowing Cerberus to use it," his eyes fell on Garrus and then Tali knowing he had pinpointed a large portion of their dissent and disagreement. He then moved to Miranda. "But what choice do we have?" He all but pleaded to them. He wanted them to understand, but he couldn't force them to see.

"If we have any chance of beating the Reapers, certain lines must be crossed," he continued, "We have to get our hands dirty!" He placed his hands on the table. "All those who died from the Collector experiments deserve justice." He hadn't forgotten about them. His words stirred Jacob and Garrus, knowing he struck a chord with them. "But Harbinger and the Reapers were responsible, they directed the Collectors."

"And right now we don't have the luxury of turning down helpful tools that can be used to seek and exploit any weaknesses that these bastards may have," Shepard finished. "In case you hadn't forgotten. They've never lost. No species has been able to stop this onslaught."

That painful truth got their attention, but was it enough to stop the dissent once and for all. He wasn't sure, but he knew what might.

It wasn't something he talked about. Not even with Miranda. Yet, it was with him every day. It was a chilling reminder of the fate that awaited humanity if he wasn't strong enough, if he stumbled with this mission, if he made a mistake at the wrong time. It had been with him since Eden Prime where it all began.

"I see what happens if we fail every day," he admitted softly. "The destruction of the Protheans haunts my dreams every night." He let loose a breath. "That's what drives me forward." He tapped the side of his head with his finger. "The Beacon imprinted the Protheans' ruin in my mind. I can feel their fear. I can sense their hopelessness." He looked up at them. "Their cries of help were met with cold silence."

"That's the burden I carry," his eyes found Miranda. The warmth that filled hers was enough for him to finish. "And it will stay with me for the rest of my days." He bowed his head.

"Shepard," Miranda's soft voice got him to look up again. Though her tone remained neutral, he knew her better. He could understand what wasn't being said. "I didn't know."

"Yeah," Garrus added awkwardly.

He offered them a stiff nod. "It wasn't your burden to bear."

"Yes, it is," Tali argued stubbornly. "We're with you, Shepard." She reminded him, "Until the end."

"Until the end," Garrus echoed with a nod.

"The end," Jacob added solemnly.

"To the end," Miranda agreed.

"What happened down there?"

"I sent you the report," Shepard responded. He and Admiral Hackett were in Shepard's cabin. The Admiral had just arrived from Arcturus after a short delay.

"A relay destroyed," Hackett held the data-pad that contained Shepard's report. "A batarian system destroyed." He shook his head. "This wasn't the mission I sent you on."

"Kenson was indoctrinated," Shepard pointed out. "She was trying to be the herald for the Reapers arrival." He noticed the pained look that briefly flickered over the Admiral's face at this revelation. IT caused Shepard to wonder what sort of friendship the Admiral had with the Doctor.

"Maybe," Hackett was noncommittal. "That won't sate the batarian's lust for revenge."

"Fuck the Hegemony," Shepard growled. The so called government funded all sorts of unsavory operations against the Alliance and humanity colonies over the years to feed their broken caste system. They outfitted pirates and centered on targeting outskirt colonies and had no qualms in enslaving children and innocent.

"This could lead to a war with them," Hackett scratched the graying stubble along his jaw line. "A war we can't afford if the Reapers are so close."

"They'd be fools to declare a war on us," Shepard responded, "They're just posturing. It is all just empty threats." He wasn't going to be fooled by their antics. Humanity was on the Council, as much as he disliked the other Council species. They were still linked through Council membership which meant they were expected to support humanity if it became under attack by a threat which a declaration of war from the Hegemony would be.

"The Alliance brass isn't as sure as you seem to be."

"What are you saying?" Shepard had a suspicion at what Hackett was hinting at.

"You had your reasons, Shepard," Hackett clasped his hands behind his back, "But it will fall on deaf ears when it is scrutinized by the loss of more than three hundred thousand batarians." He paced in front of the fish tank. "That evidence cannot be argued." He sighed, "The Reaper's threat can be."

"This is bullshit!" Shepard was not the soldier he once had been. His ability to hold his tongue had waned over the years, and his autonomy as a Spectre and now as an ally of Cerberus had all but made him unabashed in speaking his mind no matter the form.

Hackett frowned. Not receptive to Shepard's outburst. "If it was up to me, Shepard, I'd give you a medal and bury this blasted mission." He waved the data-pad, "But this isn't up to me."

"At some point you'll have to go to Earth and face the music."

"No," Shepard said firmly. He understood what Hackett meant. The Alliance wanted him to come back so that he could be the scapegoat, placating the Hegemony. He knew what would happen when he returned. He'd be locked up. He was already considered an outlaw by the Council, and if he went back to Earth, he was sure he'd remain in an Alliance prison for a very long time.

"Shepard," Hackett began.

"We're at war," Shepard cut him off. "I'm doing everything I can to stop the Reapers and you want me to go back to Earth where they'll lock me up and throw away the key!" He clenched his fists. "It's not going to happen."

"The Alliance-"

"Fuck the Alliance," Shepard was surprised by how good that felt to say. He was sick and tired of how the Alliance had used him over the years. He was not going to have any more of it.

"I see," Hackett said, disappointment filled his tone, "I know this isn't easy or ideal, Shepard, and that your history with the Alliance has been checkered long before Cerberus got involved, but think carefully about this."

"I won't do it," he argued. "I'm needed on the frontlines to stop the Reapers. Not in some Alliance cell."

"I happen to agree with you," Hackett admitted, "I can't stop this from happening, but I will make them work for it."

"Thank you," Shepard meant it. The Admiral was one of the few men he respected and trusted in the galaxy. He understood how much Hackett and Anderson had sacrificed for him, in defending his actions and believing his story about the Reapers. "But this is something I can't do."

A tired smile came to the Admiral's lips. "You're still as stubborn as ever, Shepard." He moved to get a closer look at Shepard's medals which were displayed in a glass case. "I still remember you as that skeptical, weary recruit from the ICT program. I knew then you'd do great things. I knew you'd make a good leader someday." He looked over his shoulder to Shepard, "Because even then I saw that you'd do what it took to get the job done."

"You fight the Reapers, Shepard. You delay them as long as possible," Hackett placed the data pad containing Shepard's report on his desk. "All I ask is that you keep me informed."

"I can do that, sir," Shepard agreed.

"Good," Hackett nodded his head. "And when the Alliance summons you," he pinched the bridge of his nose, "Well that will make for one interesting day."

"I won't forget this, sir."

"You shouldn't," Hackett stated dryly.

Shepard smiled at that. He always appreciated Hackett's dry humor. He offered his hand and Hackett shook it.

"It was good seeing you, Shepard." He turned to go, "but just remember why you're fighting."

"I will, sir."

Since the Collector base mission, Shepard had found himself spending more time in the Starboard Observation Deck on the Normandy. Now, that its previous occupant had been dealt with on Omega before the initiation of the suicide mission. He found a strange sort of comfort looking out at the sea of stars stretched out as far as the eye could see before him. It was not just comfort that stirred within him, but awe at the great vast void that the Normandy moved through.

In the aftermath of the Alpha Relay destruction he couldn't help but wonder about Harbinger and its horde of Reapers. What schemes were they hatching? How would they respond? Where would they move to next? The questions pummeled him one after another as he was forced to mull them over without any satisfying response. He knew nothing and that was terrifying to him.

It was happenstance that brought him to the Alpha Relay. It was Hackett's need of discrepancy and his personal trust in Shepard that had the Alliance Admiral seek him out to find Dr. Kenson. For all Shepard knew, he could turn on the holo-net to discover that the Apien Crest had gone silent. Only to realize too late that the Reapers had arrived as they poured through relays to descend upon the rest of the galaxy.

What chance did they have then?

He had received some promising news from the Illusive Man. Leads he intended to follow; he had already sent them to Liara. The Illusive Man seemed adamant that there was more information to be uncovered in the Prothean ruins on Mars. He informed Shepard that only so little had been learned from the Prothean relics discovered there. That the Alliance had barely invested the time and effort needed to dig deeper into the Archives and to try to tap into more wisdom and secrets, that the Protheans were sure to have kept.

The other lead was just as interesting, if not vague. It seemed, Cerberus agent had stumbled across hidden Prothean ruins beneath one of the Eden Prime settlements. It was too early to decide what had been discovered and on what scale, but the Illusive Man was optimistic from the reports he had gotten. He had sent an undercover force to continue to discreetly excavate the ruins.

Even with the helpful leads that Cerberus had provided Shepard, it didn't change what this relationship was between him and them. It was one of convenience. Who was he to turn away potentially powerful allies when a far danger threat lurked over them? He was no Cerberus stooge, he was his own man. He hadn't broken free from the yoke of the Alliance and then the Citadel's grasp to allow himself shackled to Cerberus.

No, never again would he allow others to dictate to him what his orders were. He wouldn't stomach bureaucrats trying to lecture him on how a mission should have been accomplished or have them throw him under the bus to get a plus four approval rating. He was done with that life.

There were times when he wondered if he did the right thing all those years ago when Saren attacked the Citadel. He could've gathered more political clout in the aftermath of the Battle. He was considered a savior of the galaxy, the Alliance and the reeling Citadel species could do nothing to stop his popularity from soaring. He could've seized a spot on the Council. Transformed himself into the military arm of a new Human led council, to help advise the galaxy and prepare for the Reaper threat, but he didn't. He allowed himself the role of errand boy and ended up getting killed by Collectors.

So much could have been different.

The swoosh of the doors brought him out of his reverie, using the reflection of the window to see the visitor was Drek. The batarian had yet to utter two words to Shepard since the destruction of the Alpha Relay that led to the death of three hundred thousand batarians.

He turned to greet the former Blue Suns legionnaire who had slowly become Shepard's friend and trusted confidant over the months that led up to the suicide mission. "Have you heard any news?" Despite his current obsession with the Collector Base, Shepard was aware of his friend's efforts in trying to raise awareness in Khar'shan of the Reaper's imminent threat.

"It's hard to gain trust when the man who's suppose to be our ally just killed three hundred thousand of our own people," Drek observed gruffly.

Shepard inwardly chastised himself for his lack of tact. "I don't know what to say."

To his surprise, Drek chuckled. "Not the best defense I've heard, Shepard."

"That's not-" Shepard wanted a second crack at forming some sort of defense or explanation, but Drek held up his hand, and Shepard decided it may be smarter to hear him out first.

Drek seemed impressed that he had been successful in silencing Shepard. Yet, in the new found silence, he did nothing to broach it. Instead, he moved past Shepard, his attention on the wide windows that provided a glimpse of the darkness of space with the bright shimmer of stars speckled in.

"I still see them," Drek observed, "those monsters that the Hegemony created using the Leviathan reaper tech." He clenched his jaw. "That was the fate waiting my people in the Bahak system had the Reapers been able to access the Relay." He kept his eyes on the window. "What the Hegemony sees as an act of war, I know better." He raised his hand to show that his omni-tool was glowing. "I knew it was an act of mercy."

An image was projected via his omni-tool, a sickening sight that Shepard remembered all too well. It was a still of one of the twisted cannibals that they had found at the Hegemony's secret funded base that had been dedicated to studying the Leviathan of Dis.

"It's still hard to stomach," Drek gave a lazy flick on the screen and the image disappeared.

"It is," Shepard agreed, remembering his first reaction to the husks and the dragon's teeth that were used to turn those colonists back on Eden Prime into them. It was burned into his mind. The sick, twisted feelings of fear and nausea tangled into a knotty mess of emotions of trying to rationalize what he was in fact seeing.

"The fact it was batarians doesn't bother me," Drek admitted, finally turning to face Shepard for the first time, "Because I know you," he let loose an amused snort, "And I know that if that colony was human you would've made the same decision without hesitation."

"I would have," he affirmed.

"Exactly," Drek nodded, moving to sit on one of the leather sofas. "The Hegemony has made a fucking mess of everything."

"What do you mean?"

"Their control of both security and the media has tightened to a degree that I can't remember seeing before," Drek placed his arms on his lap allowing him to rest his head in his hands. "I can no longer complain from a far."

And suddenly Shepard understand what it was Drek was referring to. "Ahh," he said, moving to take a seat beside his batarian friend, but leaving some space between them.

"That's the best you can say?" Drek cracked. "I'm only the best infiltrator you got."

Shepard smiled. "My apologies, but your revelation has left me without my senses or purpose moving forward."

Drek laughed, "better." He turned in his seat to face Shepard, "I didn't expect I'd miss leaving this ship as much as I do, or the people," Drek paused, "including you and the turian."

"I understand," Shepard agreed with him. It had been a strange path the two had taken, but it had proved most rewarding, and it wasn't something he would change.

"But I need to do this," the resolve in Drek's voice was palpable. "I have to return to Khar'shan and do all I can to muster any and all support and awareness." He pushed himself out of his seat.

"Your people don't realize how lucky they are to have you," Shepard had mirrored Drek, returning to his feet.

"I'm not going to blush, Shepard."

"I wouldn't expect you to."

Drek looked him over for a silent second, before tilting his head to the left and then offering his hand.

He understood the gesture that Drek was making. It was a sign of respect. "I'm going to miss you." He took the hand and shook it firmly. "I hope that when the time comes I'll have you fight by my side once again."

"I wouldn't miss it, Shepard." Drek offered him a nod before making his way to the door.

Shepard's eyes followed, and when the doors opened with a swoosh, it hadn't been because it had detected Drek's departing presence, but because of the arriving presence of Miranda. The two eyed one another before offering a respectful nod, Drek left the room without another glance and when Miranda stepped into the room her eyes were on him.

"I'm sorry," he found himself saying.

Earning a smile from Miranda, "I know." She moved towards him. "I am as well."

His arms were at his sides feeling heavy and awkward as he wasn't sure what to do with them. He wanted to reach out and hold her, and kiss her like they use to, but their relationship had frayed in the past few weeks, and now he wasn't sure what an appropriate response was.

She made the decision for him. She placed her arms around him, her face finding its way the crook of his neck.

Automatically, his arms moved to return her vulnerable, but still firm embrace. The smell of vanilla filled his nose, as he kissed the top of her head. Nothing was said in the tender embrace they shared, in those peaceful seconds that followed, words weren't needed for either to express their regret in allowing their relationship to crumble as it did.

"Everything is going to change," he informed her when their embrace ended.

"Not everything," she emphasized her meaning by squeezing his hand.

He smiled, "No, not everything." He agreed. They'd be together throughout it all. He wouldn't make that mistake a second time.

In the silence that followed, Shepard found peace with just him and Miranda.

This was why he was fighting.

And it was why he was going to win.

The End