Chapter One:

The first rule Shepard ever learned was to keep your head down low and not to draw attention to yourself; it was a rule that protected her from the ruthless streets of Earth. It was the first thing the Reds had ever taught her. That wasn't a time she was proud of – she never had been – but she owed them her life time and time again. The lessons she learned kept her alive.

Even when everyone else was dead.

Guilt clawed at her throat and she stubbornly pushed it down and pulled up her hood, obscuring her face from anyone who thought to get too curious. She didn't carry much with her, just a duffle tossed over her shoulder and weighted down with clothes and some rations. She'd packed more than enough for the trip ahead of her, but she couldn't help but feel completely and totally unprepared. It was almost exhilarating. Here she was, breaking free of the restrictions that had encumbered her, weighed her down and made her back break under the pressure. She was finally free to breathe.

Shepard didn't know what it was that prompted her to finally board the ship to who-knows-where. She hadn't even looked at the location until she'd bought the damn ticket. She'd found the one ship that was leaving within the week and got on it. Simple, clean, efficient. For the first time in 5 years she would be off Earth and back in space, and this time it would be on her terms. Not the Alliances.

She waited in line, shuffling her weight from foot to foot as she cautiously scanned the boarding zone, picking out potential threats like it was second nature. And maybe it was now – maybe that was what life in the Alliance had done to her. You didn't survive the things the Alliance put you through without gaining a healthy sense of paranoia.

She finally made it to the gate, showed the flight attendant her boarding pass and watched almost anxiously as she scanned the barcode. She knew it was a legitimate ticket, but that panic always set in. A part of her was afraid something would happen, that they would force her to stay here surrounded by memories and echoes of people she'd never really had.

The flight attendant just smiled at her as the ticket cleared, passing it back into her waiting hand. "Enjoy your flight, ma'am."

Shepard offered a haphazard grin and took her stub, folding it and shoving it in her back pocket as she adjusted the weight of her bag and made her way through. Commercial cruisers were drastically different from the military frigates she was used to traipsing around in. They were large and, depending on the grade, made for comfort. This wasn't the nicest cruiser she had ever boarded, but it was large and she was fairly certain that she'd shelled out enough credits to get herself a private room. There were two observation decks that stretched around the perimeter of the cruiser, guaranteeing that if she had one of her panic attacks she would have an open place to sit until her claustrophobia abated. Hopefully that wouldn't be necessary.

She stopped an usher, awkwardly asking for directions to her cabin, and he kindly pointed her in the right direction. She didn't know if his kindness was reassuring, or unsettling.

She walked quickly, not wanting to linger amongst the eager tourists for too long, and found her door with little trouble. She awkwardly stepped in front of the scanner, wiggling her butt in hopes that it would catch the signal of her pass without her having to take it from her pocket. The light flickered green and the door slid open.

One glance of the room told her that the cabin was small, cramped, and a one-way-ticket to a panic attack.

Yeah. She was going to be spending a lot of time on the observation deck.

After dropping off her duffle she pushed her way through the crowds of families and wide-eyed earthers who hoarded the view, standing as close to the glass as they dared as they watched the planet disappear below them. The cruiser didn't move nearly as fast as military grade vessels, despite the fact that it made them a walking target for slavers and pirates alike, so she expected the trip to the Citadel would take at least three days. It was more than enough time for her to mark her territory.

She pushed through people until she hopped up on a bench to get a view of her surroundings, keen military eyes scanning the layout until she found an open seat with a good view of the stars and the people alike. There was no room for an attack from behind, enough room to maneuver away in case of an emergency, and free off obtrusive tourists: It was perfect.

Shepard inhaled softly, bracing herself, and pushed her way through the crowds. She murmured apologies as she went, keeping her head low, and for the most part people ignored her. She didn't relax until she was safely seated in her new perch, feet firmly planted and ready to jump up at any moment. Safety was an illusion, one she could little afford, and she had no plans of completely dropping her guard on this vessel.

Time passed slowly, and eventually the excited civilians dispersed back into their cabins. Kids cried as they begged their parents to stay, wanting to look out onto the wide expanse of space for just a moment longer. Their hunger got the best of them, as it always did, and the kids finally wandered off in search of new entertainment and food. Shepard knew what it was like to see space for the first time, knew the exhilaration and the fear that it stirred in your gut. It was a potent mixture of sensation, and to an adrenaline junkie it was about as close as you could get to heaven without actually dying.

Even now the knowledge of what the vacuum of space held for her sent a chill down her spine. She knew the structures of ships, had been on her way to a promising job designing more than just a new omni-tool upgrade. She knew how just one small shift, one small malfunction, could send the ship into a metaphorical tailspin. What that actually meant was the air could be sucked from the ship faster than you could scream, and by the time you brain had a chance to realize that you were dead the lights were already off and your body was already empty.

It was terrifying. She was terrified.

She didn't move.

…

It didn't take very long for the other passengers to learn that this bench was her bench. Aside from a few hours of the sleep cycle and the occasional visit to the cafeteria, that was where she perched. She would pace in front of the bench, leaving something to mark the spot as taken, and she would even do a few work outs in front of it. The point was made after a few hours: This was Shepard's bench. No touchy.

The jump from the Local Cluster to the Exodus Cluster was inconsequential: a day trip in comparison to the journey ahead of her. Barely anyone switched out at Eden Prime. Ever since the attack earlier that year people were hesitant to approach the colony – most of the people travelling too and from were construction crew attempting to rebuid from the ground up. They did gain a few new faces, but they learned just as quickly that the bench was her territory. The trip to the Citade was only slightly longer, but still just the beginning of her adventure.

They reached the Serpent Nebula late the second day, and when they docked at the Citadel the next morning Shepard finally abandoned her perch, preferring to hole up in her room while the register changed. At least eighty percent of the passengers left ship at the Citadel, and only a handful of people stayed on for the next stop.

Omega was endgame. Shepard figured she would fit in well there.

She got her rest somewhere in the middle of the day cycle, knowing it would be easier to reestablish her claim on her bench when everyone else was sleeping, and crept from her cabin about halfway into the night cycle. She ran stiff fingers through the copper strands of hair as she pulled it back into a clip, yawning away the vestiges of sleep as she made her way towards her bench.

Halfway there she slowed, her eyes narrowing in on her spot.

Except, it wasn't her spot anymore. Someone else was in her spot.

She kept her pace casual, her brain jumping ahead of itself and cataloguing everything she could about the space invader. He was a turian – clearly a he, the spurs and the fringe gave that much away – with steely grey plates. He stared out through the glass, leaning forward and bracing his weight on his knees. Ex-Military most likely, maybe even C-Sec if the colour of his armor was anything to go off of. His visor told her he was a sniper – no one wore those if they weren't gifted in the arts of taking off a mans head from twenty thousand feet away. She'd worn one once – the remnants of it were shoved in her duffle, a memento of all the things she'd lost.

She knew the turian knew the seat was taken. Well, maybe not taken, but she knew the bench reeked of Eau de Shepard. One whiff of her and he would piece things together. Maybe he would leave. She doubted it. Turians were stubborn bastards, and territorial to boot.

The way she figured, she had two options. She could find a new seat, or she could sit by him and make him as uncomfortable as possible until he realized that he'd encroached on her territory. The bench was smaller than most, so sitting by him would be a little cramped, but it was the impact of the thing moreso than the thing itself.

She shoved her hands in the pockets of her hoodie and kept on her course. No man had ever deterred her before, and she'd never let one get away with taking what she saw as rightfully hers. She'd get that seat back. All she had to do was be patient. Turian's liked their personal space, she knew that after a few minutes he would give in and go find somewhere else.

He didn't even spare her a glance as she took her seat, but she saw the shift of his gaze in the reflection – though he wasn't looking at her, he was very definitely looking at her reflection. She lounged back, setting on the edge of the bench and letting her shoulders support her weight while her legs stretch out in front of her. If she was going to wait this out, she was going to get as comfortable as possible.

No one took what was hers. Even if it was a stupid fucking seat.

...

A/N: And thus, the beginning of Neutron Star Collision. The chapters are going to be significantly shorter than my standard fare for Causation, just because in this instance I'm fairly certain shorter is better. There will be alternating POV's throughout - one chapter will be Shepard, the next will be Garrus. And there will be a LOT of backstory in this and hopefully you'll enjoy how I interpreted everything.

Enjoy!