Author's Note: I finished the story a long time ago, but nearly a year later, I've decided to rewrite this entire story. Peace out, weirdos. (11-14-2010)


Chapter One: Crazy Mad Hatchery

Lieutenant Commander Jane Shepard looked in the mirror, and saw a reflection she didn't recognize — a pale face stared back at her through sleep deprived green eyes. It had been three days, and everything was as if a Jackson Pollock painting had come to life and started dancing around hanging itself on everyone's living room wall. Pieces of Sovereign still smoldered in piles all around the Citadel, rubble still littered the streets, but Jane Shepard could rest easy that at least all of the corpses had been policed. The council had retreated to their chambers like hibernating bears — hardly ever breaking session with exception for a quick meal or nap — and had been in non-stop debate: rebuilding efforts, defense, crime in the absence of nearly half the C-Sec force. The work that needed to be done seemed like a mile-long race to a crippled horse, and it wasn't just restricted to politicians and work crews. Shepard hadn't left the human embassy in three long days, and for the entire time, had her ear permanently attached to the communicator; it seemed everyone had questions, had queries, had requests, had something to say.

Just twenty minutes ago, Shepard had received a call from Earth, and before even a name could be said, a barely audible voice on the other end of the line began to irately speak in vowels. She waited it out, her eyes scanning the front page of a report on leaky plumbing in the Alliance garrison barracks. Before she knew it, the angry voice had subsided and she found herself promising a report in twenty-four hours.

She had gone to the bathroom then, and locked the lock, impulsively running the water and began staring at her reflection in the mirror. Maybe it was vanity, but brushing back a loose strand of red hair she began to reminisce: Eden Prime and the Geth, Saren and the Reapers, the Normandy and the crew, the Citadel and the attack, and then there was Liara. Doctor Liara T'soni, Prothean expert and archaeologist, was that blue alien no one really paid any attention to except when she was doing something weird, like putting her hands on everyone's forehead and talking like she had a British accent, but actually didn't. There had been nothing spectacular about their first meeting like in movies, and in fact their first meeting was a disaster with the Geth attacking her team and a thousand year old ruin being destroyed. Not to mention, they almost died – squashed underneath thousands of miles of rock and debris. Still, there was something alluring about Doctor Liara T'soni, even if only Shepard had found out about it after she interrogated her about her traitor mother.

Well, Shepard thought back to the quasi-interrogation she had basically put the girl through and thought to herself, they were friends now and that's all that really matters. More than friends, really, if you count one night stands.

She looked down at the running water, and splashed her face. She couldn't get over how terrible she looked, the not-eating-well and psychopathic tired expression. The face that stared back at her did so curiously, like it didn't even know who it was supposed to be either.

She splashed her face again, and dried herself with a towel; wondering how she could have changed so late in her life so fast. She had punched a man with down syndrome in the face, she had had unprofessional flings with consorts, she had strutted around in her N7 armor like a god.

"Commander, are you in there?" She heard a voice from behind the bathroom door ask her.

She turned off the water, "Yes. Who's asking?"

"Corporal Pearl, Commander." The voice replied, "Councilor Anderson wants to meet with you at the Normandy, Commander. He wanted me to tell you it was urgent."

Shepard hung the towel back onto its rack, taking more time than usual in straightening it.


The Normandy had been docked pending repairs and a bit of downtime for the crew. By downtime, it meant that the crew had about nine hours of work a day straightening the ship out for duty. That still didn't stop them from leaving a bit of dust in their wake, while they made for the closest bars and clubs afterward.

She found the Normandy unlocked, and Joker at his usual spot at the helm.

"Good to see you again, Commander." He said, not looking away from his displays. "Haven't seen you since we docked. What's new?"

"Nothing much." Shepard stood behind him with her arms crossed, looking on at the numbers and programs that seemed to flash across the displays faster than she could register them, "What are you doing?"

"I noticed some drag the last time." He told her, "I'm trying some things."

She made a face, last time; Saren and his skeletal form chased her down into a corner of the room. What was left of his face leered at her, and there were lights in his eyes. Somewhere, she could hear an explosion that could have been, in her frightened paranoid state, the Normandy fracturing into a thousand pieces. Her friends, the ones she had left, dead.

"Councilor Anderson is waiting for you in the conference room, Commander." Joker said, and he finally turned to look at her, "He seemed bothered."

Shepard nodded, and Joker looked to the floor before turning back to his work. She left him, her boot heels hitting the steel grated floors smartly, until she reached the conference room door behind the CIC. Her mind was surprisingly blank for someone who had done this hundreds of times before, and had subsequently found herself being sent to hundreds of different worlds on hundreds of different missions. She took in a deep breath, and she opened the door, walking in with as much confidence as she could muster up.

"Councilor." She greeted the man standing in the middle of the room with his hands held behind his back.

"Commander" Anderson replied in his recognizably deep voice, "I would have seen you at the embassy, but I've wanted to check up on the Normandy anyway. How is she?"

"She's alive." Post-action briefs and reports flooded past her train of thought, "Mostly exterior damage. Nothing serious was sustained. According to Adam's, everything should be repaired in two days, at least."

"That's good to hear..." He trailed off.

The councilor was dressed in a heavily starched suit, his complexion still as stern as ever. Shepard stood next to him, and realized he was staring at the blank display as if something was playing. Blurred images of figures ducking, the unmistakable crack of gunfire, the sound of lasers puncturing soft bodies. Eden Prime was his last mission, and it would be a difficult one to forget.

"How are you holding up?" Anderson asked, "I mean, with the office work?"

"Good." She said shortly, "Something's up, isn't it?"

He turned to face her and she could see that he hadn't slept recently either.

"We won this battle, Shepard. Not the war." He said, "The Geth are still out there. They have us on the defensive, and they had us by the throat. We're sitting ducks right now. We're at our very weakest..."

He trailed off, letting Shepard's imagination finish the rest, "If they were smart, they would have left a reserve fleet somewhere close by. If not to attack the Citadel, to attack another target of interest. We're in no position to defend an entire chunk of space."

"You're exactly right, Shepard." Anderson said, pacing the floor now, "And I'm bringing that up to the council this evening. We need a strategy to put the Geth on the defensive, so that they can't go on the offensive."

Shepard nodded slowly, "We're not in the greatest position to do that, Anderson. We lost nearly half of the Alliance fleet, and I'm pretty sure the Asari aren't going to let us borrow the Destiny Acension."

She watched as he collapsed into one of the eight chairs in the room, and saw the man stare glumly down at the floor between his legs. It was an awful sight, but there was nothing Shepard could do. This wasn't one of those situations where you could tell a funny joke and everything would be alright. This was a dumpster sized problem to an ant. These were decisions that had to be made, that would affect people, the people who knew them, and the people that didn't.

"What do you propose?" She asked.

He shrugged, "What do you think?"

"Patrols?" She suggested. "We have enough small ships, fast enough to recon a large area. A fleet's only a mass relay away from any given area."

Anderson looked up at her, a smile on his face, "I knew I came to you for a reason."

"It's still suicide, Anderson."

"Staying here and doing nothing is suicide." He said.

"There might be other options." She said seriously.

"Come on, Shepard. You have nearly ten years in. If they haven't come up yet, then they aren't options." Anderson replied steadily.

"We'd be risking the lives of anyone we send."

"We'd be risking the lives of everyone we don't."

Shepard sighed, "Anderson, you realize it's exactly this that got you early retirement?"

"And a seat on the council." He stood up excitedly, "Shepard, I'll need you on this one. The Council is still pretty sour with human involvement, or at least, the Turian's are."

"I do." Shepard replied quietly, and you know what this means, don't you?

She had made calls. Twenty-eight of those calls had been to the next of kin of her dead crew. Marie Jenkins, the mother of Corporal Jenkins. Javier Alenko, Staff Lieutenant Alenko's father.

"You know where I'll be, Shepard." Anderson made his way to the door, "I hate to do this to you, but there aren't a lot of other people I would trust with something like this. I'll be in touch."

"Well, it looks like I have work to do." She said, already on her way to her cabin.


Shepard knew she should be asleep at this hour, but instead she was walking through the Normandy. She had decided to inspect the ship, to ensure that the dock mechanics had kept their promise that repairs would be done in forty-eight hours. Other than some heavy repair machinery still littering the floor, they were good on their word.

"Shepard."

The voice was more of a growl than anything, and turning around she could see Wrex standing there like a statue while his red eyes wandered uncontrollably. That particular trait had always set Shepard's nerves on end.

"Heard you were going on a trip?"

"Yes." Shepard said, "I thought you were leaving?"

Wrex gave the equivalent of a smile, "I was. Thought I'd might as well stick around a bit longer. Maybe you could drop me off on the way."

Shepard could remember when he had no sense of humor to speak of, and she thought with a grin, look at him now.

"It'll be good having you aboard." She smiled, "Again."

The Krogan said nothing, just stared expectantly.

"Is there something else you need, Wrex?" She asked, a little bit uncertainly.

"Now that we're hero's and all, I thought I could get access to some military grade equipment." He replied, "If that's alright with you, Shepard?" The way he asked it, it didn't sound like a question at all.

"Give me a list, and you'll get it." She shrugged.

The Krogan stomped of without another word, and Shepard found herself alone once again. One of the panels by the sleeper pods beeped, and she turned around.

Commander Shepard? A voice called to her in her head.

It was a voice someone like Shepard had a hard time describing. If she had been the type, she would have described it using excessively romantic nouns like melodic, and started calling the speaker a violin or a trumpet or something. Shepard had never been a romantic nor the one to describe people as musical instruments, but she couldn't help but feel a knot in her stomach whenever she saw those eyes staring back straight at her, so undisguised and plain. She was light-headed and clumsy, like a kid in front of a class; palms sweaty, legs like rubber, and mouth dry. Love – the ultimate anchor, the ball and chain. Especially for Lieutenant Commander Jane Shepard, who was not supposed to have anchors. Someone who was supposed to expect to be sent to the far reaches of space on a moments notice, to stay there with no end in sight, and who was supposed to expect to die. Before, she had no problem with the mobile life required of her. Now it was different. She couldn't say how or why, but all she had to do was think of that girl and her musical instrument of a voice.

Liara? What is it? She remembered asking her, when they were still friends just every now-and-then flirting with each other.

The doctor had been standing there in front of Shepard, wringing her hands like she always had, agitated and distressed like she always was.

Commander, I heard about the council's decision to ground the Normandy.

Yeah. She had felt embarrassed. That really did just happen.

They are fools. Liara had said, with that fire in her eyes. You are the best chance they have.

She smiled despite herself. Some people don't think so.

Shepard had slumped back against her locker and slide down. She remembered the feeling of hopelessness, and the anger. She had stared at the floor, counting the bolts absently, a bitter taste in her mouth just thinking about the council's decision. Grounded. Deliberation. Waiting for a huge metal claw thing to come out of dark space and snatch the council's deliberating head's off their high and mighty body's.

I think so. That gentle voice. That sweet voice.

Liara... She had said quietly. Thank you.

The doctor smiled. Her hand reached out, and Shepard took it. She looked into her eyes as Liara pulled her up off the ground, and time seemed to stand still. The only other time Shepard could remember feeling anything remotely similar to that moment was when she dodged a bullet. A real, actual bullet. Gazing into Liara's blue eyes, she felt alive. It was just a moment, barely a few seconds where Shepard could see a new life, a possibility, something good. She leaned in as Liara closed her eyes, intoxicated, when a voice completely not Liara's might as well have screamed over the intercom.

Commander, there's an urgent call on the comm link.

She still hadn't forgiven Joker for that. She stared at the row of lockers, the memory fading as she ticked off the items on her ship's checklist absently. Bridge scanners, bridge lights, corridor lights, corridor vents...she ticked them off wearily, her eyes still on the white and orange lockers. She reached the end of the list and threw the clipboard onto the mess hall table, grabbed a nut bar pressure wrapped in foil, and bit into it. She was halfway through the bar when she realized that she hadn't even so much as seen Doctor Liara T'soni in three days.


The next morning, she was standing before the Normandy's communicator in full dress blues, a noticeable gold medal and light blue ribbon around her neck. She looked around her at the flickering orange projections of the council standing there in a half-circle, just staring down at her like they were eight-foot marble statues.

"Commander, this is hardly a request," The Turian councilor said, "But I wouldn't feel right not at least asking you to once again risk your life on our behalf."

Shepard could tell he was trying to give her a compliment, but it was so offhand it almost didn't even count.

"This needs to be done, councilor." Shepard said, "I understand the risks. I understand the consequences if I don't succeed. I'm ready for this."

"So soon, commander?" The Asari councilor asked, "Are you certain you are up to this task?"

She must have looked worse than she thought. She had laid awake last night again, despite having gone to bed after a four-mile run and some help from the medicine cabinet. She had stared at her bedroom ceiling, listening to the minutes tick by.

"I'm sure." She answered.

The councilors shared a momentary glance and nodded in agreement.

"Commander Shepard, as a member of the Systems Alliance and Spectre, you are hereby assigned this mission: to find the remnants of the Geth fleet and to either secure a surrender or victory. Either way, upon discovery of the Geth you will notify the council and we will send the fleet to assist you."

"Understood, councilor." Commander Shepard said.

"This meeting of the council is adjourned. Good luck, Commander."

The image of the councilor's faded away one after another, until all that was left was Anderson.

"Shepard," Anderson said, "There's a dinner at 1700 tonight. Reservations are at the Criterion Restaurants."

"The Criterion?" She was impressed, "Guest list?"

Anderson chuckled as he told her, and at the expression on her face as it grew darker.

"Just about every other snob on the Citadel then." She observed.

"Exactly." He agreed, "I sent invitations to Chief Ashley, and some of your other friends. You won't be alone, Shepard. Don't worry."

"Oh, I won't." Shepard waved a hand dismissively.

He laughed, the first one she had heard from him in days, "I'll see you then."

"Unfortunately." She smiled.

His image flickered and died, and Shepard loosened the collar of her uniform. She wandered out of the conference room, and towards the airlock doors. She needed some air. She was just passing a few of the stations under repair, their wire guts spilling out into the middle of the aisle, when she spotted Joker. He was making his way slowly towards the rear of the ship, and he eyed the obstacle of wires warily.

"There's a formal dinner tonight," She said as he approached, "Did you get an invite?"

"No, thank God." He edged his way through the tangle carefully as Shepard watched, "I hate those fancy jerk-fests."

Shepard shrugged, "Thought I'd ask. Thought I'd be nice and all."

"Speaking of nice, those mechanics messed with my chair. It took me a good minute just getting comfortable again. I've told them before," He slapped the palm of his hand, "Don't touch!"

"I'll pass on the message, Joker." She walked past him and rolled her eyes. "You're such a princess sometimes."

"Prince, Commander." He corrected her, "Prince."

Shepard shook her head and stepped out of the Normandy. The docking platform was empty, but for a the odd mechanic dragging around random pieces of tubing. She stood there for a moment, watching the progress of a particularly hairy mechanic crawling in and out of an engine block, with nothing but a nylon strap connecting him to a d-ring attached to the ship. She wanted to shout from the platform, and ask him how much he was being paid to risk his life, especially with the possibility of such a painful messy death like falling a couple thousand feet. Then, she realized she did mostly the same thing, but much more for much less. It should have been a self-righteous thought, but instead, it made her want to throw herself off the platform for whatever higher power was out there, dangling them all like puppets. Suicide missions, she thought cynically, always the most exciting.

She stepped out of the Normandy to get some air from the politics, the possibility of impending death, and the ugliness of imagining the bullets flying and explosions exploding in all of its glory and gore, but even now with the Citadel's lights flashing at her from every corner in a beautiful display of modern grace and technology, all she wanted to do was get away. The air here was suffocating.


The Criterion Restaurant had a waiting list that stretched back as far as a year at times. If you were a hero like Commander Shepard, maybe you could get in on six months notice. It was that type of place.

The lobby was almost utilitarian, with its concrete walls and floors, but it was obvious from where she stood that the lobby was not the main attraction. Artificial lighting gleamed down on diners from a low ceiling made entirely of glass, on the other side of which were galleons of water and hundreds of exotic fish. Tables were arranged among recently groomed rock gardens and shrubbery that smelt of incense. Shepard had never been in the Criterion Restaurant, but upon entering the unwaveringly geometric room, and looking up to see several species of fish staring at her through their buggy eyes, she couldn't help but feel a little impressed – and, unnerved. It was her experience, having spent so long in the military, that the first place she decided to look for Anderson was at the bar. And he stood there, with his elbows leaning back against the bar counter, in his most conservative black suit and red tie.

"Nice suit." Shepard greeted him.

Anderson didn't seem fazed, "I wore this suit to my second wife's funeral."

Shepard ordered a drink, blanching slightly at the poor choice in topic, "Oh. I'm sorry."

Anderson sipped his wine and shrugged, "Don't be. We would have gone down the drain eventually anyway. It was too good to last."

The bartender slid a glass along the counter, pouring a bottle of brandy as he did until it stopped in front of Shepard.

Anderson watched her sip her drink, "Guests should be arriving shortly."

She could only nod for no reason at all. A few Salerian's on a stage in a corner of the restaurant were playing and fiddling on instruments that looked like dental equipment. The music produced, at least to a human ear, was more like elevator music, and Shepard found herself wishing for a radio somewhere to play something remotely entertaining. She downed her drink.

"Take it easy." Anderson grinned, "It won't be that bad."

"That's what they all say." She replied.

Anderson laughed, and stood up to his full height abruptly, and straightening his already straight jacket. He was looking past Shepard at the restaurant lobby and seeing a crowd of noticeably well-dressed individuals, even for a restaurant like this with its zen gardens and fish tank ceilings and all.

"And so, it begins." He spoke dramatically.

She had followed his gaze, more out of habit than actual curiosity. She gently placed the empty glass in her hand back onto the counter.

"Another?" Asked the bartender.

She shook her head, "No, thanks." And trailed behind Anderson to the lobby.

The first were the Turian's. There were three in all; the councilor, his assistant, and Garrus Vakerian. When they approached, the Turian councilor was speaking in hushed tones with his assistant. The assistant was just saying something about how he had "just told her to leave it alone", and the councilor was shutting him up with a curt "sh – humans!", when Anderson held out his hand, a little less enthusiastically than he would have. Shepard made a bee-line for Garrus Vakerian, standing all to himself in a fairly empty corner of the bare lobby.

"Good to see you again, Shepard." The Turian said warmly.

Shepard shook his outstretched hand, "Always a pleasure, Garrus."

"I heard." He said softly, "Perhaps it would be appropriate for me to wish you good luck?"

"You're not coming along?" She asked.

He shook his head, "C-Sec is short-handed, after the attack and all. I have to stay, and do my part." He looked a little irritated before adding, "Or so I'm told."

"Is there a problem?" She asked, "I'll see what I can do-"

"That won't be necessary," The Turian councilor interrupted, having somehow heard their conversation, "Agent Vakerian is staying at the Citadel where he is needed."

Shepard started to reply, something between a public bathroom and a swamp ready to spill out when she caught Anderson's warning glare, and she said instead, "Understood, councilor."

Without so much as an acknowledgment, the Turian turned heel and stalked away towards the furthest corner away from them, turning to his assistant and pointing a very accusatory finger at his chest.

"That could have gone better." Anderson said, joining Shepard and Garrus in a far corner of the lobby, "This goes without saying, but we all should probably watch our backs."

Garrus grunted, and Shepard tucked her hands behind her back, all too aware of how they were clenching into fists. She had never been interested in politics and didn't very much care for it, but it occurred to her that it wouldn't be so appropriate to start waving her arms everywhere like Popeye the Sailor.

Anderson spied a group of humans making their entrance, made all the more obvious by their paranoid glances and shifty movements. Only a few of their group actually looked comfortable walking into a joint chock full of aliens.

"Fresh off the boat," Anderson observed, and said offhandedly to Shepard, "They're senators from Earth. Arrived just yesterday. I had to give them the grand tour."

"They seem very curious." Garrus remarked, watching one woman in particular and the scowl on her face, "Very interesting..."

"What can I say?" Anderson said, walking away, "We're humans."

Shepard felt like she was losing it. She could only imagine being back in her quarters, maybe taking a nap with the radio on, and her favorite bands playing. She'd fall asleep to Styx, Aerosmith, or maybe some Asia. Truth be told, she hadn't listened to music in months, but it wasn't like she had had the time. Her mind went to strange places when she listened to those old songs, places that required a special sort of quiet. Quiet she wasn't getting with having to save the world from crazy people, and answering the phone all day.

"The Asari." Garrus nudged Shepard in the ribs, "...and the Salerian's."

Even after spending years in space, she still couldn't hold in a chuckle at seeing so many aliens, wearing so many colors and get-ups, and all sauntering in through one tiny space. It was like watching a documentary on animals, although she realized that thought was somewhat politically incorrect.

"There's Matriarch Lidanya." Garrus' mandibles twitched slightly in surprise, "The commander of the Destiny Acension." And added more quietly, "I had heard she was keeping to herself these past few days."

"Why would she do that?" Shepard asked.

Garrus shrugged, "The Asari are a strange breed. They're a race of females, Shepard." He gave her a look, as if to say his last comment was self explanatory.

She only laughed, "You're just over-exaggerating."

Garrus cast another doubtful glance at the group, "Are you so sure?"

Still chortling, she looked in the same direction, and felt the blood drain from her veins. Among all the strange green's, oranges, and purples, there was one color that stood out among the rest. It was just one blue figure in particular dressed in a white gown, her eyes flitting around the room curiously, as she always had done. It was Liara. But standing unnervingly close to her was another blue figure, dressed in an impeccable Asari uniform adorned with many decorations. She had the stoney countenance of someone always in charge, with the arrogance that usually came with it. Garrus had pointed her out to be Matriarch Lidanya, but that couldn't have mattered less to Commander Jane Shepard, when the Matriarch placed a possessive hand on Doctor Liara T'soni's arm.

"Are you alright?" Garrus asked, "You look a little pale."

"It's hot in here." She said, a little too quickly.

Garrus look at her strangely, "It feels like room temperature to me..."

"Ladies and gentlemen," The head waiter announced into the room, "Please, a private room has been reserved for your party. If you will, just follow me." He waved his white-gloved hands like a dancer on stage, illuminating the way as he walked backwards towards a set of doors near the very back of the room.

It was hard not to notice the large line of dignitaries walking through the large restaurant floor, and while they caught many stares, Shepard was hardly focused on it. She should have been watching the many faces and their many expressions, just waiting for one to show just a little too much nervousness, just a little too much resolve. She was an N7 agent and a Spectre, it was her job to be paranoid about these things. And she would have, even if this contingent of powerful politicians had brought their own private security. Tonight, however; her eyes were only on one thing, and she made sure to stay behind Doctor T'soni and Matriarch Lidanya, within eye-sight and earshot. If only Garrus wasn't trying to talk to her, she could have heard them.

"What kind of equipment are you bringing with you?" He asked, oblivious, "I always preferred shooting from a distance. Some would say it was cowardly, but I always think it's a bit more on the brutal side. Hardly cowardly, if you ask me."

She didn't reply, she didn't even hear him. She was too busy watching the Matriarch's hand and how it was gently leading Liara.

"Of course, sniper rifles weren't an option before the introduction of thermal clips." Garrus went on, "I remember getting only a few shots off before my rifle would overheat and I'd have to crouch behind a crate somewhere and wait. It was terrible. Whoever thought of that was out of their mind... overheating weapons. What sense does that make on the battlefield. It's like wearing armor you can't go to the bathroom in."

It was just as the Matriarch's hand lowered from Liara's elbow to her forearm, and ever so slightly moving lower, when a hand roughly jabbed Shepard in the side.

"Hey, sorry!" She recognized the voice as belonging to Chief Ashley Williams, "I know I'm late. Better than never though."

"I agree." Garrus nodded seriously.

"Yeah..." Shepard watched the couple ahead walk into the private room and seat themselves next to each other. Still unnervingly too close, in Shepard's high opinion.

"What's wrong with you?" Ashley Williams asked, looking the Commander up and down, "You look..."

Garrus shook his head, "She says it's hot in here. It's not hot in here."

They entered the room, the last ones in, and the door was shut behind them with a finality that was unnoticed by the others, but certainly felt by Shepard. Suddenly, she felt trapped. Garrus seated himself, followed by Ashley, but the one last empty seat, much to Shepard's horror, was next to Doctor Liara T'soni. She stood there, she supposed, looking like a complete dunce.

"Are you...going to sit, Commander?" Ashley Williams asked a little uncertainly, "There's an empty seat right here." She patted the cushion of the seat right next to her, and so fatefully placed.

Commander Jane Shepard could have thought of an excuse right then and there, where she would have to pull out her communicator, look surprised, and excuse herself hurriedly. She would say there was a fire on the Normandy. She could say there was a anti-war protest gone wrong and the Normandy was being spray-painted with all sorts of craziness. She could have just left, being a hero and all. But she smiled a very fake smile, and she sat down as casually as she could – her back resting against the chair, her legs crossed at the shins, and that smile growing somewhat strained.

"Seriously," Ashley whispered, "What's wrong? Are you feeling sick or something?"

"Just sit there, and talk to me about the weather." The Commander said, growing a little fidgety from the butterflies in her stomach.

"About the weather? There is no weather on the Citadel." Ashley pointed out.

Shepard rolled her eyes, "About anything then."

"Well, now that I'm being forced to be sociable," Her sarcasm not lost on the Commander, "Liara told me the funniest thing the other day," Ashley smiled jovially, "Actually, I think she's dating someone, because she asked me-"

The expression on Shepard's face darkened. The politicians around the table could have been discussing galaxy-wide peace, but in Shepard's mind, nothing was going right tonight.

"Hm." Ashley looked thoughtful, "I totally forgot what she asked me, but it was funny." And then she added slyly, "But it looks like I was right about one thing, eh? She's dating someone."

The Matriarch and Liara were discussing something that put a smile on both their lips. Commander Jane Shepard, having survived two ginormous experiences that would have killed anyone else, couldn't help but feel the stab of being ignored. Doctor Liara T'soni had not even looked at her since arriving.

"Yeah." She said somewhat longingly.

So longingly that Chief Ashley Williams could not help but notice. Somewhere in that head of hers, something fell into place.

"OH." The word escaped before she could stop it, and half the table cast her quizzical glances.

"I know that's what I said. I had the hardest time figuring out how to squeeze the trigger!" Garrus said, having had a conversation for the past several minutes that no one was listening to.

"Hey, Commander." Ashley ignored Garrus, and whispered into Shepard's ear, "What's going on."

There was no missing the Chief's pointed stare at the Doctor of Prothean Archeology. Shepard cleared her throat, drank some water, and glared at her, "Nothing's going on. Just-"

"Hey, Liara." Ashley spoke past Shepard, smiling widely, "How are you?"

Shepard's locked onto the salad dish in front of her, and she tried to pick apart the loopy emblem so tastefully embellished into the design of the plate. She tried not to notice how Liara's face turned in her direction, and how her voice sounded as it always had. That trumpet – no, that other more nice sounding instrument that Shepard never played in her life (that looked like a tennis racket) of a voice.

"I've been fine." She said warmly, "How are you, Chief Williams?"

"Call me Ashley. Only Commander Shepard here calls me Chief Williams!" Ashley guffawed. "Isn't that right, Commander?"

Shepard imagined shaking the shit out of her, then smashing this tastefully designed plate on her head. Then disappearing out of sight to curl up in a dark corner somewhere, where she could feel oh' so sorry for herself.

"That's right." She said stiffly, and forced a smile, "Ashley."

Though there must have been more venom in her tone than she thought.

"And how are you, Commander?" Liara asked her. "I hope you've been..."

"I'm fine." She finally forced herself to look at that face. That baby face so full of just all the nicest things.

Liara nodded slowly, "I've heard that you've been terribly busy these past few days."

"So has everyone else." She replied a little more ironically than she meant, looking between the Matriarch and Liara, "Some more busy than others."

"Indeed." Liara said.

"Excuse me," The Matriarch leaned forward into view, "I haven't had the pleasure of introducing myself to the woman who stopped Saren." She bowed slightly, as formally as she could seated at a dinner table, "I am Matriarch Lidanya, commander of the Destiny Acension. I have heard much about you from Doctor T'soni."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." The words felt like a betrayal coming out of her mouth. She should be throwing a punch, but instead these words were pouring out like oil. "I've seen the after-action videos of the battle. Your maneuvers were impressive."

"Truly the highest compliment I could be given, coming from as accomplished a soldier as yourself."

Shepard smiled, this smooth fake version of herself taking complete control, and the words oozed, "From one soldier to another."

After saying that, she felt empty like a lonesome garden gnome left in the shrubs, only to be overgrown with weeds as she was forgotten. A much prettier garden gnome had taken her spot, one floating around in a much bigger ship. She must have been so lost in this thought, that she had forgotten to lie and be charming. Their side of the table became awkwardly quiet, as it usually does when someone in the middle of a conversation suddenly looks down morosely at their cutlery and napkin.

Shepard couldn't bring herself to carry on the act throughout the rest of dinner. She ate her food, she drank her drink, and she sat there like she was supposed to; straight-backed, eyes forward, and saying as little as possible. She had to, otherwise she would have already flipped the table, thrown the knives, chucked the glasses, told the Matriarch what she really thought of her, and left. Watching the two out of the corner of her eyes, she wanted to whisper into Liara's ear, I lied – she's a terrible tactician. She almost got everyone killed. Take that.

She wanted to be a child again, so she could act like one. Jumping up onto chairs like she was the captain of a pirate ship, riding the wild waves of some ocean somewhere. She would swing from the crow's nest down onto a cannon, light a cigar in her mouth, and use it to fire off a cannon-ball straight into the Destiny Acension.

"You're being really quiet." Ashley mumbled after desert.

Shepard shrugged, "I can't be quiet?" I should be quiet every now and then, I deserve it. A very childlike voice said in her head.

"Well," Ashley held up her hands defensively, "I'm just saying, Commander. You haven't really said a word since we got here."

"I don't feel like talking." She said. She felt like drinking. She felt like drowning her sorrows like all those melodramatic characters did in those dramas on TV, where they would drink the night away and cry about it. In the morning, they would get up and the viewer would comment on how stupid they were being.

Anderson stood up, raising a glass of bubbly in his hand. "I would like to toast the heroes unable to join us tonight. They sacrificed more than any of us could have asked of them, and we owe them everything. We are alive today, because they aren't. We are enjoying this fine meal in the company of some very fine friends, because they cannot." He raised his glass high into the air, "To our fallen heroes."

Glasses raised, held for a moment in the air, before dipping down to the mouths of those around the table. Shepard watched them, and her hand, as it moved of its own free will. She couldn't understand why, but she found the speech revolting. None of these people around the table knew Kaiden Alenko, but here they were – congratulating him on being a fine hero. Thanks, man. Because of you we can drink this bubbly you never could afford!

When the first guests stood to leave, Commander Jane Shepard was already on her way to the Taxi queue, a bewildered Chief Williams and Garrus Vakerian trailing close behind.


The taxi stopped outside of a nightclub. Shepard stalked in without so much as noticing the scantily clad Asari dancers flaunting their assets on tables to perverts. And as such, the place was chock full of Alliance military. Shepard knew, if there was a place she could get drunk without getting noticed, it was here at this festering hole of STDs and bodily fluids.

"Why are we here?" Garrus screamed over the obnoxious techno music, "We couldn't go someplace cleaner?"

Ashley wondered that herself, but she had a good guess. She was a marine, rated as one of the best non-commissioned officers in her age group, and that required a certain understanding of people in general. She liked to play dumb most of the time, because people don't watch what they say as much around someone they think is an idiot. The Commander had kept to herself like a trained expert, revealing only the most vague details about herself – just enough to get people to think she was being personal, but in actuality, she had chosen those expendable tidbits of her life exactly for one purpose; to seem more approachable, to better accomplish the mission through team unity. She wasn't being honestly friendly, as much as she was just being calculating. Always the tactician, the Commander. The only time she had heard of the Commander having a real conversation, of trying to sincerely open up at all to anyone, was from Liara T'soni.

"Brandy." Ashley heard Shepard order at the bar.

Garrus had positioned himself beside Shepard, his keen eyes searching the place habitually, and scowling at the odd drunken passerby.

"He's obviously on drugs." He pointed after a man barely walking on his own. Ashley only rolled her eyes.

"Something's on your mind, Commander." She said, "Might as well tell me now, before I start guessing."

"And what would your first guess be?" Shepard asked evenly, downing her first drink all at once.

Ashley watched her order another drink, this time a vodka tonic. Keeping others at a distance like she was, it was hard to fault her for it. Losing all your friends in one roll, killing a man who told you, right before he was this close to ruining the galaxy, and right before he died that he was sorry, and now – Ashley guessed, it was jealousy.

"Do you ever have trouble sleeping?" Shepard asked out of the blue, "I haven't been sleeping well."

"Is that it?" Garrus asked.

"I hope so." Shepard said, knocking back another drink and ordering a third.

She had read the report on Akuze. Corporal Jane Shepard had been the only survivor after having witnessed the deaths of her entire platoon. She had survived, and others would say that now she was stronger because of it. But Ashley saw someone broken into so many pieces, she had put herself back together like a stack of blocks – looks solid, but pick out the right block, and the whole thing falls apart. She watched as Shepard knocked back another glass, and slammed it back down onto the counter with a little too much force. She was drunk already – a lightweight.

"I'm sure, if you just talked to her..." Ashley said slowly.

The commander smiled. It was cynical and bitter. She didn't say anything, but downed another drink and ordered a fourth. She was going for the goal, not caring how she got there, or about how she would feel in the morning when all those drinks would be nothing but something to regret.

"She ran into me the other day." Ashley told her, "She asked about you. We talked."

For a second, it looked like Shepard would drink her drink, but she laid the glass down onto the counter, untouched, and she asked, "Talked about what?"

"You." Ashley said, "She said she hadn't seen you since the Normandy docked. She didn't give any of the gushy details," She grinned, "But it was pretty obvious what she was getting at."

"Ever so observant," Shepard's voice was a little slurred, "Tell me, what did you see tonight? Around the table while everyone was so busy talking?"

"Other than that the Matriarch was flirting unsuccessfully with Doctor T'soni?" She said, her eyebrows raised, "I saw Liara looking at you when you were looking away. I saw her trying to come up with something to say to you, while you were too busy picking at your food."

Shepard looked taken aback, but only for a second. "I would have seen that."

"No." Ashley shook her head, "You had tunnel vision pretty much all night, Commander."

It was an easy mistake to make, when she was the person who saved a whole galaxy. It was the little things she ended up missing, having fallen for the smoke-screen. She felt her mistake gnawing at her, and she gripped her drink tightly.

"Call her."

"Then what, Ashley?" The Shepard tone suddenly turned tart. "Maybe we can go for a nice walk in the park? Maybe have some more meaningless sex thinking that we're going to die tomorrow? I'm leaving for who knows what, gone for who knows how long, and we don't know each other." Shepard glared at nothing in particular, "I don't know what I was thinking. I didn't think she... I didn't know..." She meant to say, she didn't know one person could matter so much.

"You'll never find out," Ashley replied stonily, "Sitting here drinking, and getting all bitter over nothing."

Shepard drank her drink after all, her face getting flush, "No."

Garrus seemed unperturbed, "What are we talking about?"

Ashley could punch him right now. Just as she opened her mouth to berate the oblivious Turian, the Commander fell backwards, and hit the ground with a dull thud.

"What now?" Garrus asked.

Ashley sighed and bent down, "Help me."

Commander Shepard woke up still dressed in her dress blues. Her head was pounding. She could still hear the music from the club, although it sounded like it was playing through a fish tank. She was lying on a couch in an office she didn't ever remembering seeing.

"You're awake." She heard Ashley say from somewhere in the blur of a room.

She looked up, bending her neck as she did, and wincing as she did, "Chief Williams... Ashley. Where am I?"

"You took a nasty fall, Commander. The manager recognized you while we were trying to drag you off to a taxi. He offered us his office until you came to. Honestly, I thought you'd be out longer." Ashley explained, tossing Shepard an ice pack.

"How long have I been out?"

"About half an hour."

Shepard groaned as she placed the ice pack on the back of her neck.

"I thought you would never wake up, Commander," she heard Garrus say, "Quite the show tonight."

Shepard wondered why everyone had to describe random events as "shows". A show was something you bought a ticket to see. She didn't remember ever buying a ticket to see this train wreck. She closed her eyes, and suffered quietly as her headache grew worse. She couldn't remember much after her first drink at Chora's Den. Everything just kind of blurred together into a piece of ugly modern art, and all she could remember were visions of Liara, visions of their conversations, and – god – her headache was fast becoming unbearable. Silently, she laughed to herself: thinking that this must have been what Kaiden had been complaining about all the while. All the while, up until the moment he looked up at the bright blue sky, standing on a perfect white sandy beach, looking up as the Normandy and her crew – his friends – flew away, and the last thing he saw was the orange flash of a nuclear explosion. No more headache's, no more migraines, no more accidents, train wrecks, firefights, or shows for Staff Lieutenant Kaiden Alenko.

"May I have a drink?" She asked hoarsely.

"I sure hope you're kidding, commander." Garrus replied.

"I meant, maybe a water or something."

Garrus' mandibles twitched irritably.

"Wait a minute." Ashley disappeared through a set of doors Shepard could not see.

She could remember the last time she had found herself nearly comatose on a dirty club floor. She had been out with her friends, friends who knew where she was from, who she had shared tasteless jokes with, and spent days in the field with suffering. It had been their last day of shore leave, and they had made the most of it by drinking the clubs and bars dry. If she closed her eyes, she could still smell the liquor while it burned itself down her throat. They would be jeering her on, daring her to drink another and another and another. If she closed her eyes hard enough, she could still see the sun up above as it blinded her. Laying on her back, covered from head to toe in blood and sweat, she could see the logic in picking herself up and running. There were thresher maw's underneath her – after her, probably taking a break since they were probably full. Probably still eating all her friends and entire platoon. She pictured the giant worms with shark teeth sitting around a table at the Criterion Restaurant, picking their teeth with Corporal Johnson's third rib. Suckling on Sergeant Farrell's left eye. Cutting into Private Crawford's right thigh. She could see the logic in picking herself up again, in running again, but she lay there on her back after having fallen again, and she lay there looking up at the sun blinding her until she closed her eyes.

"Here you go, Commander." Ashley handed her a glass of water, and several mints.

"Where did you get these?" Shepard wondered out loud. The mints were her favorite kind; little peppermints in the shape of rocket ships.

"The bar." Ashley replied.

Shepard drank the water until the glass was empty, and popped the small white mints into her mouth. Rolling them over and over with her tongue until they dissolved in her mouth.

"What's the matter, Shepard?" Garrus asked, "I'm sure you'll feel better once you've talked about it. A human said that to me once."

Garrus glanced at Ashley, and Ashley glanced at the floor. Shepard held her head in her hands, slumped over and unmoving. She was still drunk.

"Dinner was a riot." Shepard said.

"I thought it was boring." Garrus remarked.

"Matriarch Lidanya showed up," She said, "Even after 'keeping to herself lately'. How lucky were we, huh?"

Ashley sat beside the commander on the couch, "She was all over Liara."

Commander Jane Shepard's face hardened into a pout, and her arms crossed.

"I'm not understanding-" Garrus began to say.

"The Commander and Doctor T'soni have a thing going." Ashley snapped.

Garrus' eyes widened, "Really!"

Ashley glared and the Turian lowered his head, "I mean...really?"

Shepard smiled half-heartedly, "I'm such a sap."

"Commander..." Ashley said quietly, "I'm sure Liara's got her reasons. Maybe you just misunderstood the whole situation."

"It's not that." Shepard replied, "Even if she had come alone I'd still feel terrible. I don't have room for this."

Ashley studied the commander for a moment, "Ma'am, with all due respect, you're just being a quitter."

Shepard looked up in surprise, "What?"

"You're not even trying." Ashley said."You know what you want, but your letting it go without a fight. Where's that fighting spirit now?"

"Probably off doing more important things like trying to save the galaxy and hunt the Geth." Garrus commented.

"Shut up." Ashley whispered scathingly, then turned back to Shepard and said, "You're giving up a good thing. Do you really want to live until tomorrow or ten years from now knowing you just let it slip?"

Shepard already regretted a lot of things about tonight. She regretted not having called Liara earlier. She regretted having this deeply personal conversation with an non-commissioned officer. Highly unprofessional. Then again, she had sex in her personal quarters while on duty. Then again, she didn't care. It was strange that the things she was beginning to regret the least were the things that would have cost her this career. A career she felt now, that she had given far too much to. It was everything over nothing. Everything over someone.

"You could die tomorrow," Ashley pointed out, "You could either live your life while you have it, or not. Your choice."

"Remember: you're still drunk and probably not thinking straight." The Turian quipped.

The two humans looked up at him quizzically.

"And I've heard horror stories of your species emotional bouts." He added, "And you're a female."

The commander shook her head, "I have to get back to the Normandy."

"It is late." Garrus agreed.

"Come on, Commander," Ashley helped the drunk woman to her feet, "Let's grab a taxi."


Ashley wondered if God really was watching. Did he have a sense of humor, or was he just really not paying attention sometimes? Honestly, she thought to herself, how else could shit like this happen? The taxi had stopped in front of the C-Sec offices, and other than a few awkward glances from the office guards, helping the commander to the elevator was mostly easy enough. The ride up was another story entirely, as both Ashley and Garrus watched nervously as the commander gagged a few times.

"She's going to vomit." Garrus pointed.

Ashley could imagine the mess. It was everywhere.

The elevator pinged as it reached the Normandy's port, and the double doors slid open. The first thing they saw was the sleek metal curves of the Normandy sitting there as it had until it's last foray into a hundred explosions in space. Ashley, her arm under the Commander's armpit, led the drunken Shepard out of the elevator. Garrus followed, but hesitated. When Ashley looked to see what the Turian had, there was a little break in her step as well. Leaning against the railing facing the Normandy was a blue figure wearing the same white gown she had worn at dinner. Although it was hard to tell the Asari apart from a distance, there was only one Asari that had any reason to be waiting there, and also the clearance to even have access to the Normandy's dock. Shepard, whose head was currently slumped forward and half asleep, must have forgotten to revoke it.

"Liara!" Garrus waved his scaly hand.

Chief Ashley Williams rolled her eyes, and continued to drag the Commander towards the Normandy. She couldn't ignore the doe-eyed stare Liara was giving her as she passed the girl on her way towards the Normandy's airlock doors. The way she was starring made her feel terrible, the way she walked by without a word. There wasn't anything she thought of saying, dragging Shepard by the alien-woman that loved her, that sounded right:

Hey, this is your fault, by the way.

Or, She really didn't mean to be a dick.

Maybe, You should probably wait until morning, or she'd just start spewing the same craziness she was at dinner.

They made it to the entrance of the ship, but it had been locked sometime earlier that night. Ashley rummaged around in her uniform for her ID card, found it, and swiped the card through the reader. A computerized woman's voice told her, scanning...scanning...scanning...thank you for your patience...scanning...she's still staring...scanning–

"May I help you, Dr. T'soni?" Ashley asked, ignoring the computerized voice as it took its time scanning.

"I was hoping to speak to Commander Shepard." Liara said apprehensively, "But I see that she's..."

"She's drunk." Garrus provided.

Ashley was getting sick of these aliens.

Clearance approved. The Normandy's doors slid open with a hiss. Good evening and welcome aboard the Normandy, Operation's Chief Williams.

She readjusted the Commander's weight, and stepped into the detox area of the Normandy. Doctor T'soni had followed them in, and Ashley realized she had several minutes of standing around awkwardly to look forward to.

And the voice said this time, shore party, scanning...scanning–

"What is troubling Shepard Chief Williams?" Liara asked innocently.

"You should probably ask her in the morning." Ashley said.

"She was perfectly lucid a few minutes ago." Garrus interjected, as Liara cocked her head to the side. Ashley could understand, the Doctor was a little confused.

Ashley rolled her eyes, "Well, she isn't now." She hadn't known Garrus was so dull about these things.

"Well, maybe I should have some of that sixth sense that humans keep talking about." Garrus replied coolly.

"What are you even talking about?" Ashley shook her head.

Ashley stared at the Turian, expecting him to offer an explanation and keep the conversation going to pass the time while they stood there, but he just looked right back at her wide-eyed.

"Hello?" She asked.

"Non-sense!" Garrus replied smugly, having executed a perfect human joke.

"Joker must have told you that one." Ashley muttered under her breath.

Shore party, welcome.

The doors that led into the Normandy finally opened, and the trio shuffled in together in silence. Moving as quickly as she could while holding up the deadweight of her drunk Commander, and followed by a worried looking Liara and Garrus (who was trying to explain his joke), she made instantly for the Commander's cabin. She was always jealous of the private sleeping quarters Shepard got all to herself. Everyone else slept in pods, and otherwise had no privacy whatsoever.

Shepard's cabin was so clean, Ashley could describe it as sterile. The bed was made to military standards, the computer and it's keyboard were perfectly square, and the only thing misplaced was a empty glass on her desk. Shepard let out an audible sigh when she hit the sheets of her bed, and curled up automatically under them. Ashley wiped the sweat off the palms of her hands on her pants, and turned to see that Garrus and Liara were both starring at her as if she had something to say.

"Chief Williams," Liara began slowly and nervously, "May I wait here?"

Ashley wondered back to her advice to Shepard earlier that night, wondering if this was a chance that Shepard didn't want to miss.

So she nodded, "I don't see a problem with that. Technically, you still have clearance anyway."

Liara smiled thankfully, "Thank you, Chief Williams."

"Call me Ashley." She replied, "Everyone does."

Liara smiled, pulling the chair at Shepard's desk beside the bed, and she sat there.

They left, but before she did, Ashley looked over her shoulder. Liara had taken off Shepard's shoes, was taking off her jacket, when the Commander stirred restlessly in her sleep. The Doctor placed a hand on Shepard's forehead, bringing her face in close to hers and whispering as she did so. Shepard fell back into that drunken sleep she had been in, but this time, there was a content look on her face that had no been there before. Chief Williams, certain she had done the right thing, closed the doors behind her. She went to her worktable, and began to tinker with a problematic assault rifle that had jammed on several occasions. Garrus went straight to a sleep pod, and dozed off quickly. All the while, he wondered why they hadn't thought his joke funny, he had told it exactly as Joker had told it to him.


Liara T'soni watched as Shepard slept. Contrary to what had been implied during dinner, there wasn't a minute during the last three days where Liara hadn't thought about the commander. She had spent the days dreaming back to her few weeks spent on the Normandy, and the nights wondering whether to call the commander. She had fought herself, at first, believing that the commander was far too busy with the Citadel, the fleet, and the Geth. Then, the day after normalcy had commenced on the Citadel, she had been requested to lunch with the Matriarch Lidanya. Doctor of Archeology Liara T'soni, Prothean expert, was compelled to accept.

She had dressed formally, as such occasions demand. She had arrived early, as etiquette prescribed. She had forgotten her research, which she thought was the reason for the entire invitation. By the time she sat down at the small café, wringing her hands underneath the small table shaped like a circle, she was so nervous that she didn't notice the matriarch approaching the outdoor table.

They spoke of nothing in particular in the beginning. You could describe it as frivolous nothings that they spoke of. Frivolous, because in twenty-two minutes their conversation consisted of the weather, the plant life or lack thereof, and the almond tasting human species drink with the bitter aftertaste that the human waitress called "coffee" that even after ordered and prepared must be further prepared with creamer and sugar. Then, maybe perhaps taking a few of the lessons she had learned from her short courtship previously, she had spied the way the matriarch studied her closely, smiled at her friendly, and motioned with her hand ever so gracefully. It was at that moment that Doctor Liara T'soni, Prothean expert, began to fear that her acceptance of this casual lunch occasion was ill conceived.

It was then after this realization that she ever so respectfully dismissed herself and retreated to her newly rented apartment and again wondered if she could, or even should, call Lieutenant Commander Jane Shepard, hero of the universe. She paced the room, once pausing as she rediscovered her research misplaced underneath her couch, convinced that calling could result in too many unexpected and impossible to fathom end results. Nervously, she reached out for her communicator just as it rung, and had been invited to dinner in two days time with a guest list so highly prescribed that she had no choice but to accept. Afterwards she could have continued her inner debate, but instead she picked up her research, sat on her couch and wanted to cry. After dinner two days later, however; she realized how wrong she had been not to call. Typical.


Jane Shepard opened her eyes. She was back in her cabin somehow. In the dim lighting of the room, she could make out the display of the computer she had left on, and the glass of water she had drank before heading off to dinner last night. She slowly picked herself up and off her bed, stretching her aching limbs and rubbing her crusty eyes. She locked herself into her newly added private bathroom, ran the water, and looked into the mirror. A tired and terribly wane face stared back at her, and her vanity suffered slightly more when she saw her red hair poking out in every direction. She plugged the sink and waited until it was almost full, then she dunked her entire head into the water. Emerging from the sink she dried herself with a towel and exited her bathroom, looking sideways at her rumpled sheets and the blue alien figure that sat in her desk chair.

...she looked again, and there sat Dr. Liara T'soni, sitting on Shepard's desk chair next to her bed hunched forward with her upper body sprawled on the bed in front of her. Shepard thought the Doctor was sleeping, but didn't want to wait around to see.

What the fuck... Shepard waved her hand in front of her door's scanner and bolted, what the fuck? What the fuck!

"Good morning, commander!" Somebody greeted her cheerily.

She didn't bother to look, and continued to speed walk to the first deck; past the saluting marine she never noticed, past the brightly lit map of the entire galaxy, past an old-looking Pressly, past the orange screens monitoring who-knows-what and manned by people in baseball caps, past Joker who was cripple-walking his way to his chair at the helm–

"Joker!" She paused mid stride, "Who brought me back last night?"

"Brought you back?" He asked puzzled, "What do you mean? 'Brought you back', did you die or something? Are you in the same clothes as yesterday? Why do you have towel? Did you just take a shower?" He wagged a finger at her, "Didn't your mother ever tell you to dress yourself?"

She felt a migraine coming along, and pinched the bridge of her nose irritably.

"You must have had quite the night there, Commander." Joker commented slyly, "Anyway, I locked up last night. The only one to open up the Normandy after that was Chief Williams. How did you… were you drunk and Williams had to drag you back?"

Ignoring his guffaws, Shepard tried to think back to last night, and could vaguely remember a dingy bar, a couch somewhere, and something minty in her mouth. She reminded herself to ask Ashley if she had done something crazy.

"Get Chief Williams up here." She said, wiping her brow with the towel still draped around her neck, "Actually get Chief Williams to meet me outside."

"But Williams is probably in the Normandy, along with us right now. In the Normandy. You want to meet her outside?" Joker asked.

"Yes. On the double." Shepard strode out of the Normandy.

"Alright," Joker called after her. "Good morning to you too, by the way!"

She leaned against the railing opposite the ships air lock, trying to remember something of the night before; purple and blue lights and raving dancing figures beneath them. She hadn't danced though, she was looking on afar. She had been looking for something else to focus on, but the amber colored liquid in front of her and the thoughts that had raced through her muddled mind.

"Shepard!" Anderson was just emerging from the elevator.

She turned slowly, uncomfortably conscious of the wrinkled t-shirt she was wearing, and the sodden towel around her neck.

"I have good news." He told her as he approached.

"That's good to hear." She replied, feel suddenly tired even though she had just woken up.

"Yes," He said with a wide smile, "I've secured three other ships that meet this missions requirements. All fast, and adequately armed."

"Good." She nodded, "It'll be nice to have some company out there."

"What's wrong with you?" Anderson asked.

She shrugged, "What do you mean?"

"You seem a little," Anderson searched for an appropriate word, "...distraught."

She was distraught – or whatever.

"What's wrong?" He asked inquisitively, but Shepard would like to describe it as nosily.

She searched through her years of experience for a lie that would pass off as the truth, but instead Chief Williams emerged from the airlock doors.

"Commander, you called?" the chief asked, and then spotted the grumpy councilor, "Oh."

"Chief Williams." Anderson nodded in greeting, "How are you?"

Ashley smiled and shrugged, "I've been good."

"Well, that's good to hear." Anderson said, "I have things to do at the office. I'll be seeing you all off though."

He walked away, but stopped several feet from the elevator doors, "Before I forget, there's a meeting at the Alliance Garrison headquarters. Make sure you're there early, I have some things to go over with you, Shepard."

"I'll be there." Shepard nodded.

With that, Anderson stepped in between the elevator doors, giving her a last parting glance as they closed slowly.

"You called for me, Commander?" Ashley asked.

Shepard pushed herself off the port railing, and turned to look at the Chief squarely. There was a crease between her eyes, and her lips were rigid.

"What happened last night?" She asked.

There was a blank void where an answer should have been, and Ashley had no idea where she wanted to begin.

"Well," She began, "We all went to a random club. You started drinking – didn't pace yourself at all, by the way. We started talking, you fainted, and we carried you into the manager's office." She was listing things off, using her fingers to keep count, "Then we talked some more. We all kind of left after that."

"'We all kind of left?'" Shepard echoed incredulously.

"Yes, ma'am" The chief confirmed.

"What did I say?" Shepard asked. "What did we talk about?"

Ashley searched for an appropriate way to put it, when Doctor Liara T'soni emerged from the Normandy's airlock doors. Chief Ashley Williams couldn't help but utter a silent prayer of thanks.


Doctor Liara T'soni woke up to an announcement over the intercom; Chief Williams, Joker's voice could have easily woken up a deeper sleeper than her, please report to the Commander outside the Normandy airlock doors. She straightened up, feeling a crick in her back from having slept in such an odd position all night, and found the bed where Shepard had been sleeping abandoned. Only a hint of warmth could be felt upon the dull gray sheets embellished with the trademark Systems Alliance logo in equal intervals from end to end. She had searched the room quickly with her eyes, and when she didn't see Shepard, as the announcement had implied, she got up in search of the Commander.

"Good morning, Doctor!" A voice said cheerily as she left the Commander's quarters.

Liara waved shyly and smiled in return, and continued walking up the stairs and past the dedicated marine that always stood there for apparently no reason, past the flickering map of the galaxy, past a suspicious looking Pressly, past the busy looking humans at their complicated looking diagnostics screens, and ran into Joker who was walking with difficulty towards the other end of the ship.

"Lieutenant!" She had greeted him with a polite nod of the head, "Have you seen Commander Shepard?"

"Yeah," He replied, "She just left in a hurry."

Liara politely lowered her head as she walked quickly past the Lieutenant and stepped outside to find Commander Shepard and Chief Williams talking in hushed tones.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." She said quietly.

Chief Williams smiled widely, "Good morning!"

Commander Shepard appeared less enthusiastic.


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