Commander Shepard is quite possibly the luckiest man alive.

Get launched into space after your ship was just sawn in half by Collectors? Sure, no problem. Engage a hoard of Brutes directly beneath a Reaper while it battles the mother of all thresher maws to the death? Okay, cool. Literally get shot by a Reaper-the thing that will turn a dreadnought into a ball of mangled nothingness simply by looking in its direction-and be able to tell death to screw off? The afterlife must have run out of room. Unless of course, the afterlife looked like a hospital room. The coffee certainly tasted was heavenly.

Maybe he was just immortal.

Shepard felt no need to pry into the matter; he felt positively good for once. Sitting up in bed, energy giving life juice in hand, and the Alliance News Network happily broadcasting nothing but optimistic stories was as good as it gets. Life was what could be described as "normal", which was many orders of magnitude better than teetering on the line between life and death. Once you get used to the comfy bed, warm food delivered direct to the room, and the doctors that insist on stopping by every three seconds to take vitals, it's really not that bad. A private cabin on a stealth warship it is not, but still…

How he found himself here, however, was an utterly puzzling question to this day. He suspected many others shared to the same thought. Shepard had seen his final moments right before his eyes. He yelled in that kids face, called him a liar in more ways than one, and finished a mission 3 years in the making. The Catalysts words rung hollow in his ears, there was only one way to end the cycle, and that way involved dead Reapers. He took aim at the explosive conduit and pulled the trigger, the glass cracked, he kept pulling the trigger, an explosion, then release. As flames consumed his body he had never felt more free, like the weight of the galaxy just evaporated from his body. He was spent, he carried the burden of trillions of lives on his back for too long. Death had been welcomed with open arms, it was a fitting end to one hell of a ride. Go out in a blaze of glory and take every single one of those Reapers with him.

Yet here he is, sitting in bed, sipping coffee, and listening to the news.

What on Earth did he do to deserve this? Perhaps it was a question of what in the galaxy.

Switching the screen off and switching to the datapad resting on the stand next to his bed didn't provide much diversity in news either. Nor did it offer an answer to the question. The September 2187 edition of Alliance News Monthly promptly displayed itself as Shepard picked it up.

"Commander Shepard Alive?"

"Hero of the Galaxy Lives!"

"Miracles do Exist! Shepard is Proof!"

Nothing but rumors.

Indeed, it had been a year since the end of the conflict with the Reapers. Admiral Hackett had given him the brief upon regaining consciousness a few months back. A stray marine had found his lifeless body encased within the rubble of a collapsed building in London; he looked like nothing more than a bag a flesh apparently. Armor burned to a crisp, skin displaying various shades of red and black, limp, but a pulse nonetheless. Not moments later a shuttle flew him away with orders consisting of "fly until you find a standing hospital." Given his current state, it was safe to say that mission was successful. After that, cue nine months of the most intensive human reconstruction effort short of Project Lazarus. Shepard was out for cold for at least four of those. The past three months have been rehabilitation and making sure nothing goes haywire at the last second. This added precaution was becoming increasingly redundant in Shepard's eyes, he felt fine as far as he was concerned. It's been mentioned more than once that his remarkable recovery speed is due to some of the "less organic" parts in him, thanks, Cerberus! Throw in some extensive bone weave, and tissue regeneration and he was practically good to go. Albeit with a few scars.

Finding the same repetitive news quickly became of no interest to Shepard, so he tossed the datapad aside and slid out of bed. With coffee in hand, he crossed the room to his window which conveniently allowed him to see out, but not others to see in. It's no secret that the Alliance has been trying to keep Shepard's situation a…secret. It would explain all the purely speculative reports, anybody with what looked remotely like a recording device hadn't been allowed past the front door of the facility. The only ones allowed to enter the room, aside from superior officers because of authority reasons, was the crew of the Normandy. The ship had docked not days after Shepard woke up and one by one they had come by to confirm the rumors or his survival. Their reactions ranged from "ecstatic" to "about to explode from emotional overload" understandably so. Except Javik, who seemed incapable of expressing anything happier than "neutral". Bless whatever gods they worshipped for the fact they all survived. Also Harbinger, for politely not vaporizing the Normandy as it whisked away Garrus and Liara…

That was it.

She was the reason.

'Liara.' Shepard smiled and conjured the image of his bondmate. If there had been one reason to fight…

The initial reunion had been an emotional one. One where tears were not something to be ashamed of. It was sweet release, a million tons suddenly lifted from Shepard's shoulders. "I told you I'd come back." he had told her. The young asari's head on his shoulder and arms around him he got in response was all he needed to know. They laid in bed together for what was most likely hours in comfortable silence. Eventually, the combined effort of two warm bodied snuggled close to each other and the sun disappearing behind the horizon put the couple to sleep. That was the best sleep Shepard could remember getting in forever.

If he was allowed an extended stay in the mortal realm, she must be why. Love has this crazy way of spurring you on even when there is nothing left. It was the reason why Shepard's shattered body continued to draw breath, the reason the afterlife had rejected him yet again. Giving up simply wasn't an option, not with somebody else's heart on the line. And he made a promise dammit, it would be a cold day in hell before that promise broke. The doctors can keep their fancy medical explanations.

When Shepard could move under his own power, Garrus had attempted to sneak him out to go drinking. That attempt fell flat on its face before they even left the room. Turns out the guards outside the door were not a susceptible to bribery as he had thought. After that, word got around the entire staff of guards that Shepard may attempt to break out for a non-sanctioned field trip. Further visits by anybody were decidedly less private, crushing any hope of getting a bit "closer" with Liara. A real shame that, he was just starting to regain some strength and flexibility.

He took one last indulgent sip of the heavenly coffee (or was it just better than whatever Alliance procurement could come with?) and just like that, it had all disappeared into his body. With a sigh, he set the mug down on the ledge of the window and focused his gaze upon the scenery outside. The collection of buildings outside didn't have a name to him, neither did the hospital for that matter. What did have a name, however, was the giant mechanical squid corpse that was laying ass to the sky in the distance. Reaper.

It was inevitable when Hackett had visited. Unleashing a weapon as powerful as the Crucible would result in far more than unplugging the Reapers. That little shit had been right, and Hackett had confirmed it. Every single geth platform fell lifelessly to the ground upon firing the Crucible. Their ships aimlessly drifted in the space above Earth. Shouting questions to the to the void in the Normandy no longer resulted in that question being answered, EDI had been claimed as well. It was genocide. There was no way around it, they all died because he had deemed destruction the only solution to the war. Not to mention the broken families, how many dies because of him? It was easy to forget that some people would be just as fast to put a bullet in his head as some would be to ask for an autograph.

Being immortal isn't as great as it sounds.

Shepard winced at the thought and quickly shook the thought from his head. At least he could understand why they were keeping him under wraps.

'Let's not relive that nightmare again,' he thought to himself.

Shepard's eyes quickly shifted downward to the city below where the progress made each day continued to impress. The outer suburbs had been completely leveled and the beginning of the city proper had its own scars. That was when he woke up for the first time. Now, what was once craters and debris was the site for shiny new housing developments. Typical human architecture, good ol' rectangle with a triangle on the top. The line between the new and old buildings was unusually well defined. Must have stopped the Reapers in the middle of their casual steamrolling or all organics dead in its tracks right there. A minute more of hesitation on the Crucible and this place would cease to exist, talk about timing. It was because of that timing that a majority of those who lived here could continue to see the next day. If this hospital had been located in any other city, the view outside would be much the same. Hope, rebuilding, resilience. That thought drew a smile across Shepard's face.

Satisfied with his newly found vigor and thoroughly warmed up by the sun shining through, it was time to move on with the day. Step one, get more of that coffee.

"Commander Shepard?"

Shepard broke from his window gazing session and turned to greet the voice. "Doctor? Is there something wrong?" The habit of always expecting the worst were showing plainly on his features.

The doctor shook his head which resulted in a noticeable look a relief from Shepard. "Nothing's wrong, in fact, it's quite the opposite. Your green across the board, ready to be released."

Shepard took on a curious tone. "Already? Thought I had a few more months."

The doctor stayed serious as ever. "The scans don't lie, commander, you're as good as you were before your near-death encounter. Maybe even better." The doctor peered down at the datapad he was holding. "Whoever installed the cybernetics in you spared no expense, truly remarkable engineering. Purely organic systems would have surely shut down after the trauma you endured." He tucked the pad under his arm and looked back to Shepard. "While full recovery occurred much faster than anticipated, it occurred nonetheless, so you're good to go."

Shepard just shrugged. "If you say so. Just show me where to sign and I'll be off."

"Actually, your paperwork is already taken care of; an Alliance shuttle will pick you up at the entrance when you're ready."

"Huh, guess I'll pack up my stuff and get ready to move out. Thanks, doc."

"Good day." With a polite nod, the doctor vanished from the room as fast as he came in. No doubt taking care of numerous patients all at once.

Mission objective changed. Coffee not a viable option. Return to Normandy. Also, change into a slightly more dignified outfit than this robe.

Specialist Traynor had been kind enough to deliver a portion his wardrobe during a visit. The case contained little more than a load of standard grey Alliance shirts, two black ones with an N7 stamped on, some jeans, undergarments, and socks with a pair of boots. Perfect.

Selecting one set of each article at random (not as if there was a huge variety or anything) Shepard made his way toward the spartan bathroom available to him and stripped off the meager hospital garment. He paused for a look in the mirror after slipping on the shirt and allowed a slight chuckle at what he saw.

"Like nothing ever happened," he muttered to himself.

With the rest of the outfit now on and a quick splash a water to the face, Shepard packed his things into the case and started out of the room.

His exit of the room was greeted with a hoard of doctors, nurses, soldiers carrying stretchers, and volunteers. Nobody seemed to pay him much mind as he made his way down the corridor. It wouldn't be a surprise if the novelty of having the Commander Shepard in their care had worn off for the staff at this point. The rest were too busy to notice anything but the patient placed in their immediate care.

As he brushed past the hospital staff working at the usual feverish pace he a praised the brave soul that must have taken care of all the paperwork and allowed him to make a prompt exit. A bonus considering the unexpected early release. Now, all that stood between him and freedom was about 20 floors worth of elevator. And my god, what an elevator. It was nothing more than a drab white box with buttons, but this thing operated at FTL speeds compared to Normandy's.

"Ground floor," The disembodied elevator voice promptly informed Shepard.

He stepped out of the elevator and into the chaos of the lobby. No doubt casualties from all over where being shipped here, this place was packed. A waving hand raised above the crowd managed to catch Shepard's attention.

"Hey! Shepard! Over here!" A familiar voice called from the opposite end of the room.

Shepard moved in the direction of the hand until the owner was found. Normandy's resident shuttle pilot, Steve Cortez. Cortez jerked his head toward the entrance as an indicator to follow and the two men made for the front of the building. As the pair passed through the entrance and made toward the shuttle, a delicate breeze made itself known. The cool fresh air was a delight to breathe in. Clean as it might be, the decontaminated stuff that circulated through the hospital was never the most pleasant thing to breathe in. You know, that hospital smell.

That brought Shepard to the other thing that he didn't expect to miss, Cortez. The shuttle pilot had only shown up once for a very brief moment, then ran off like his pants were on fire.

"Cortez? This is a surprise." Shepard started. "I thought the Hackett had you tied down with running supplies to refugees,"

"Technically he still does, I just happened to be the closet transport around when you were cleared to leave," Cortez replied.

"So, I'm what? An exception?"

"It would seem so."

Shepard cast a sidelong glance at the shuttle pilot. "Getting supplies to those in need is a little more important than me getting back to my ship, don't you think? I could have walked."

Cortez put up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Just following orders sir, the message came across from Admiral Hackett just a few hours ago, high priority."

Shepard simply rolled his eyes, deciding that shooting the messenger would lead nowhere. After a brief pause, he continued with a different topic. "Staying busy then?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. Turns out good shuttle pilots are in demand these days. Been that way since Normandy made it back to Earth." His voice dipped in volume. "Sorry I couldn't stop by more. I wanted to, just…"

Shepard cut in to reassure the shuttle pilot. "Don't sweat it, Cortez, you've been out here doing good work. Given the current circumstances, I think I can forgive you."

The conversation halted for a moment as both men climbed into the shuttle and occupied the pilot and co-pilot seats respectively.

Cortez seemed to lighten up a bit. "Thanks, Shepard. I've had a little more luck staying in contact with the rest of the crew. My supply runs bring me to the Normandy sometimes when I'm in the area. We've been trading off excess supplies and offering shelter to anyone who needs it." He proceeded to engage the shuttle's thrusters and plug coordinates into the interface.

"What has my crew been up to? They didn't tell me much when they visited," Shepard inquired.

"Well, since docking everybody has pitched in wherever they could. Tali and Traynor have been getting comms back to full strength. They got local connections back up and a few closer cities are patched in last I checked. Garrus has been coordinating with the turian ships that stayed back. Had to make a couple runs up to a cruiser with him to secure dextro rations."

Shepard raised a brow at that. "The turians left part of their fleet behind?"

"The asari too," Cortez added on. "Engineering teams mostly, a lot of them are trying to put the Citadel and relay back together.

"Makes sense. Everybody has a role to play," Shepard conceded.

"Exactly," Cortez chose this moment to activate the shuttles virtual windows, revealing swathes of buildings and people passing by in a blur. "There's something beautiful about this, you know, the way everybody is working together like this."

"Agreed," Shepard replied, staring outside like a kid on a road trip. The shuttle just passed over Reaper's line in the sand given the newer architecture sprinkled in with the old.

Cortez continued. "So yeah, James and Ashley have taken to building houses. Liara has been putting the revived comm channels to the test day and night coordinating everything. And…then there's me, flying this thing around."

"What about Javik?"

Cortez just shrugged.

"Well…let's just assume he's helping out like everyone else," Shepard said, putting away thoughts of a rogue prothean terrorizing innocent people with stories of his cycle.

"Works for me," Cortez agreed. "Feels good to be part of it myself, a real boost to morale for the whole crew too. Everyone needed it." Cortez's enthusiasm faded as he started to recall the bad memory. "When the Normandy recovered me from the shuttle crash it was…pretty bad. Leaving you behind was hard on everyone. No one spoke much to each other, just kinda walked around on autopilot. Dead silence except for screams and calls for help through the open comm channels." He shook his head in dismay. "That was all a year ago and it still haunts me to this day."

Shepard could sense the pain welling up in his friend. He hadn't been there to experience it but he knew what it must have been like. "Everyone did the right thing," he reassured. "The fact that you're all alive and the ship is in one piece proves that. Besides, that's the past now, nothing but blue skies and sunny days from here on out."

"Of course. You're right." Cortez took a deep breath and regained some of his lost cheer. "You should have seen the planet we got stranded on though! It reminded me of pictures I saw of Virmire. Warm, breathable air, and comfy gravity on top of that. Not a bad place to wait while Normandy was made spaceworthy again. Speaking of which." He pointed out the virtual window toward a curved, ship like shape in the distance.

As they rounded the corner, Shepard recognized the shape immediately.

"Good to see that the old girl made it."

"Science teams went through the ship's databases for anything on how the Crucible knocked her out of the sky and the technicians should have patched up any remaining damage by now. Can't imagine anyone would complain if you wanted to take it and fly away as soon as you board. The combat performance data should be self-evident enough."

"Same crazy stories from everyone on board I'd imagine?"

"That and a little addition to the paint job, courtesy of a request from Joker."

"Oh boy." Shepard suddenly found himself in trepidation of what his ship looked like.

Cortez snickered at that. "Don't worry Shepard, no flames down the side this time. You'll see when we get back."

"Regardless, it'll be good to be back."

There was more to Shepard's response than his voice let on. First and foremost was that feeling of finally going home. Shepard settle down into his seat and started walking down memory lane. Young Shepard was born in space and lived there for the large majority of those years. The Shepard family did own property with a nice little home back on Earth, but he never got to stay there for more than a week at most, always things to do and places to be in a career military family. Those things and places always took them into the vast reaches of the unknown. One year it's a dreadnaught patrolling the Traverse. Another year it's a research station orbiting a promising garden world. Never the same place for a long time.

There are certain benefits to an upbringing such as this. Shepard still recalls the sights outside the window of a traveling starship vividly. There was always a new view to look out the window to just as the current one got boring. Going to bed while gazing at purplish blue nebula gases and waking up to a red giant throwing beams of light through an asteroid field never got old. He also got to meet lots of different people from all races. Getting transferred to a ship or base with aliens was particularly fascinating. There was different culture, different food, being confused as to how an entire race can be made of girls, wondering if it hurt if you hugged the spikey ones. Basically, it was a young kid's fantasy world. Mom and dad fought the bad guys and he flew around the universe like some badass space explorer. When eighteen years hit, the career choice was almost too easy. And what do ya know? He flies around the universe like some badass space explorer and fights bad guys.

So yes, Commander Shepard is a 33-year-old kid. And that's okay.

The shuttle arrived at the spaceport and landed on a pad next to the Normandy's docking point, snapping Shepard out of his trip down memory lane.

"We're here. You go on Shepard, I've got a couple things left to do," Cortez mentioned as Shepard rose from his seat.

"Don't worry, we won't leave without you." Shepard joked as he made his way off the shuttle.

Shepard stepped down onto the pad and set his eyes upon one of the most beautiful ships he had ever seen. It had this graceful curve across the top of the hull, two swept back wings with two muscular engines each. The Alliance colors glistened against the sunlight and showed almost no signs of battle. Unless you count the four Reaper shaped outlines with a diagonal line going through them about a quarter way down the hull.

He just shook his head and smiled. "Nice," he commented to himself.

As Cortez's shuttle lifted off he was intercepted by an older man sporting one of those jumpsuits he sees the sciencey types wearing.

"Commander? I'm James Gardner, chief engineer for the Normandy repair team when it arrived on Earth. I've come to inform you of the condition of your ship."

Shepard exchanged a handshake and the two made for the Normandy's dock. "Okay James, what can you tell me?"

o-o

The engineer had peeled off to attend to another matter which left Shepard alone to finish the journey into the port. Inside, it was reasonably busy, packed with both people and cargo. Shepard was on the second-floor catwalk, which looked out over the common area. A few entrances to docks were visible from the vantage point. Out of one docking tubes came a turian rolling a large crate on a cart. Out of another came a few humans handling what must have been medical supplies, judging by the cross printed on the front. Out of all of them, streams and streams of people both leaving and arriving. Except one. At the end of the catwalk was an entrance with its doors closed, two guards, and 'authorized personnel only' promptly displayed on the sign above. Rightly so, there was a damn Alliance warship on the other end of that gangway. His Alliance warship.

The two guards saluted and opened the entrance to the gangway when Shepard approached. After returning the salute, he proceeded through the entrance, and a few seconds later, was standing in front of a very familiar airlock. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, straightened his back, and strode purposely through the airlock…and straight into a person.

Luckily this person was no stranger.

"Hello, Commander."

After a brief startle, Shepard managed a response. "Well, look who it is."

The mere inches that were between them was reduced to zero as the two shared a kiss. It was only quick though as Liara pulled back before Shepard could indulge anymore.

She clearly noticed the disappointment on Shepard's face. "There will be time for that later, right now I believe you have other business to take care of," Liara said with just a hint of tease.

Do I? I think I might just retire right now. Steal the Normandy and fly off with you and everyone else out into the stars." Shepard took Liara's hands in his own as he often did. "It would be awful easy to get lost up there, wouldn't it?"

Liara smiled at the ground then looked back up. "While that does sound delightful, I would rather you didn't abandon your duty quite yet."

"Come on," he practically begged. "Jump out of the system and hit the stealth systems before they know what happened."

Liara intended on resisting Shepard's attempt at derailing her original intention. Her voice lost any sign of playfulness. "Shepard, please. This is serious."

He gave an impish grin as one final attempt to preclude business. This was met with a rather unhappy looking asari stepping back and crossing her arms. Fun time over. Perhaps to was foolish to think that he could just stroll into the Normandy and toss deference out the airlock. It was easy to forget that while he was getting warm meals delivered to his door, the rest of the crew were busting their asses helping rebuild an entire city. Or worrying if he was alive or not.

"Okay, okay. What's the situation?" Shepard replied, reflecting Liara's demeanor.

Liara relaxed a bit after earning a serious response. "Admiral Hackett contacted me and asked to speak to you when you came aboard. He said he wanted to speak with you in private."

"I'll take it up in my quarters."

Liara and Shepard turned toward the CIC and made for the lift. The space they walked through was almost dead silent. There were no marines milling about to break the silence, only the muffled hum of the Normandy's electronic systems.

"Did he say anything else?" he asked.

"No, he only said he wanted to talk to you," came the response.

"About what?"

"He didn't give me any details, but judging by his tone it sounded important."

"Don't tell me the Reapers are resurrecting themselves," Shepard said with mock terror.

"If that were the case, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Liara replied flatly.

This slightly disturbed Shepard. "Geez Liara, always so serious with you."

The two entered the lift and he hit the button corresponding with his quarters. When the door closed Shepard turned to see a distressed Liara looking down, massaging her temple.

She let out a tired sigh. "Sorry…it's just that between coordinating supply shuttles, volunteers, information agents and…" her voice trailed off.

It was obvious to Shepard were the majority of her stress and worry resided. He moved to stand in front with one hand under her chin and the other at her side. Then he nudged her gaze up to look right into those deep blue eyes and spoke softly but firmly. "I'm not going anywhere, Liara. This time for good. The next time the galaxy needs to be saved, someone else can do it. Okay?"

She worked her arms around him and pulled him in close. It was a gesture he could only return. Her voice came out as a whisper. "Don't ever leave me again…please."

"Never."

The lift came to a stop and opened up to Shepard's cabin and he reluctantly ended the comfortable embrace. Liara looked more relaxed now but still visibly drained. She would never admit to overworking herself. Running the biggest info network in the galaxy had a way of making her think she could tackle anything with enough late nights and stims. The least he could do was assuage the fear of losing him.

"Alright, go get some rest. When I'm done we can see about getting you away from work. We'll go do something, just the two of us," Shepard offered.

Liara perked up at the idea. "That sounds nice. I admit I have been very busy, perhaps I could use the distraction."

He turned around as he exited the lift and offered a sly grin. "Maybe I'll even find that adorable shy archaeologist under that tough Shadow Broker act."

The only reply he got was a smile with the smallest blush just as the doors closed.

'And…back on the clock,' Shepard thought. Hackett probably wanted to put the Normandy and its commander on a pedestal to 'raise hope' or something along that line. While it would undoubtedly be in good nature, Shepard didn't take too kindly to the concept. 'If you want a victory parade, round up the entire galactic fleet and send them.' Shepard wasn't above recognizing that everybody had contributed to the victory over the Reapers. God forbid something else needed shooting. Shepard was pretty sure his guns had become ashes by this point.

Shepard banished the thought from his head, deciding that speculation was pointless. He walked over to his desk and was disheartened at the sight. Among the wreckage was the Normandy SR1 having lost three of its engines, the quarian liveship resembling a soup bowl, and the Destiny Ascension more or less snapped in half. Shepard needed a requisition order for glue. Lots of glue. 'Couldn't even bother to put these back together. Lazy ass engineers.'

With a few swipes across his personal terminal, he dialed up Admiral Hackett's comm code and stood straight as an arrow at his desk. In an instant, the QEC displayer stoic admiral's face in place of the plastic fleet wreckage.

"Commander Shepard," he greeted.

Shepard put his hand up in a salute which was promptly returned by Hackett. "Admiral."

"At ease Commander. How have you been? I trust that they got you patched up and back to the Normandy without any trouble?"

"Yeah, good as new," Shepard replied. "Feels good to be back onboard the Normandy."

"Good. I thought you might appreciate a quick exit so I took care of all the paperwork when you were cleared to leave."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

"It's the least I could do after what you did for the whole galaxy." He paused for a moment and assumed the role of superior officer. "I know you just got back, but there's a matter I need to discuss with you concerning your immediate future."

A small chill shot down Shepard's back. "That why you needed to talk?"

"Yes, and I think it's substantial enough that you should hear it first before telling anyone else the details."

If Hackett wanted Shepard's attention, he had it now. Substantial events happening in the immediate future wasn't exactly what Shepard wanted to come back to. Though slightly worried at this point, Shepard listened on without showing an ounce of it.

Hackett continued. "Do you know about the Andromeda Initiative, Shepard?"

"I've heard about it. Something about colonizing another galaxy, right?" Shepard questioned.

"That's the gist of it," Hackett confirmed. "A representative of that Initiative, Alec Ryder, recently contacted me and offered an…interesting proposal."

Shepard was puzzled but also curious. "For you?"

"That's the thing, Shepard. It wasn't for me, it was for you."

Shepard took a few seconds to let that set in. His steely expression faltered as curiosity gained a dash of concern. "What does the Initiative want with me?"

"I'm not sure if there's a better way to put this, so I'll give it to you the same way I got it." A moment of dramatic pause. "They're offering you a seat on one of their arks, Shepard. They want you to go with them."

Surprise settled onto Shepard's featured. "Damn…that's a bold request."

"I didn't expect you to jump out of the galaxy that easily and I let Ryder know that. He wants to meet with you and discuss the finer details."

"They seriously think I'm going to do it?" Shepard stated incredulously. "Why can't they get someone else?"

"Shepard, what they're about to do is send a hundred thousand people to an unexplored galaxy that's millions of light years away. They're counting on people to believe in the cause to make it work and that takes a special kind of leader. Whether you like it or not, everybody sees you as the man who rallied an entire galaxy to fight an enemy who hadn't been stopped in millions of years and won. Frankly, I surprised they didn't try to bring you on earlier."

Surprise had quickly turned to disbelief for Shepard. "It'll take a lot more than asking nicely for me to abandon my crew."

"Look, I'm not going to give you an order to follow up on this. If you want to go over it with Ryder, that's up to you."

"I'll think about it," Shepard replied quickly, hoping for the conversation to end.

"It's your choice Commander," he reiterated. "Get in touch with me when you make your decision so I can relay it to Ryder. Hackett out."

And just like that, the Admiral's face flashed away.

"Well then," Shepard muttered to himself. The entire conversation was filed into the deepest reaches of his mind for later. Right now, there were matters considerably less world-shaking to attend to.

He paged Liara's room on the ship's comm. "Liara? I'm finished up here. I'll be down in a few minutes if you're ready.

"I'll be ready soon. Meet me down here."

It would probably help to talk it out with someone.

A/N: For those who read this far, many thanks! The is the first fic I've made public so reviews and advice are welcome and desired.

Chapter 2 is about 99% done, so expect that soon. After that, updates may become more spaced out.

Until then!