(somewhat long-winded) Author's Notes: The description says it pretty well. When I first created Erin Shepard, I intended for her to be completely Paragon. Through the first Mass Effect, she was an unapologetic goody-two-shoes, and damn proud of it. But I tend to take the "role-playing" part of RPGs pretty seriously. When I play, I take the role of my character. I channel the character, and let the character do things their own way. The choices I make aren't my choices; they are the character's. Sometimes my characters make choices that are abso-frickin-lutely wrong, and I get pissed at them. But that's the way I play.

During Mass Effect 2, Erin Shepard started drifting more and more toward the Renegade side of things. It wasn't me doing the drifting. It was completely her. She was still a Paragon at heart, but by the end of it, she was no longer that same goody-two-shoes from ME1. She came out of it somewhere in the middle. A Paragade. And this fic is my attempt to discover why.

I'll be writing this as a series of one-shots exploring Erin's drift into the Paragade. I've got a few planned out; I'll write others as they come. They will be a mixture of several genres: action, drama, romance, angst, humor, etc. Some of them will intertwine with events from Trust Implicit, and I promise to maintain continuity. Also, I'm writing from the first person perspective. Not usually my favorite, but it seems appropriate here. Please, tell me what you think! If it turns out horrible, I'm open to changing it.

Damn. Apologies for the long-windedness. And now we begin.

Paragade

They say that everyone dreams. But when you wake up, all you have left is a whisper.

I didn't even have the whisper.

It's really hard to comprehend losing two years. The first thing that hits you is just how much the world has changed. You log into the extranet and look at a news portal, and none of the headlines make sense.

Juliet Mainhardt to star in Carpe Diem 2. Who the hell is Juliet Mainhardt? And was I dead for Carpe Diem 1? I remembered the trailer for that movie -- I had wanted to see it.

Earth nations in suspense as Systems Alliance hears Ford v. Huerta. Wait… President Huerta died? Damn! I had voted for that guy.

Rosenkov Materials debuts new M-97 Viper sniper rifle. Seriously? Two years ago, the M-96 had been the best sniper rifle on the public market. Now it was already out of date? Well then. I'd have to take a look at the specs eventually. I do need a new rifle, considering that my old HMSWR is lying in some rubble pit on Alchera…

I spent that first night on board the new Normandy feverishly browsing the extranet, trying to fill the two-year gap in my mind. I don't like not knowing. It makes me feel mentally naked. Back with the Alliance, I used to get sent on long missions in deep space, far from any kind of extranet link or comm buoy. I hated it. I loved serving in deep space, but I hated not knowing. Being cut off from the extranet was like being cut off from the world. As soon as I got back, I would go straight to the computer and brush up on the month or two of current events I'd missed.

But this was different -- this was two years, and a hell of a lot had changed.

Ashley Williams had been honored by the turian and salarian governments. First human ever to receive the turian Medal of Valor -- first posthumous award to anyone, of any species. I remembered her saying she would kiss a turian once. Were she still around to receive this award, I think she would have kissed the turian ambassador proudly.

My mother is now Captain Hannah Shepard, SSV Orizaba. Apparently she had turned down an Admiral promotion a few months ago, opting to stay on board her ship. Of course. Hannah Shepard would never accept a ground position. Mom and dad had raised me a spacer for a reason: among the stars is where the Shepard family belongs, not in some bureau office. If you try to ground us, we'll kick and squirm and fight until we're airborne once again.

Then there was another story. Some kind of battle between Cerberus and the quarians. Tali had mentioned it when we ran into her on Freedom's Progress, but at the time, I hadn't thought to ask her about it. The details were shaky. The quarians weren't much for talking to reporters, and Cerberus, obviously, was unavailable for comment. But from what I could gather, Cerberus agents had raided the Migrant Fleet, searching for a powerful biotic child who had gone into hiding with them. The attack ended in disaster.

"Cerberus," I whispered to myself. Hearing the name out loud felt… peculiar. It made the air around me stiff. It made the walls feel like a prison.

I still remembered fighting Cerberus two years ago. I remembered their experiments -- the husks, the rachni, the thorian creepers. Admiral Kahoku. Hell. Back then, I was convinced these people were terrorists and nothing else.

And now… well, here I was, sitting in the captain's suite of a Cerberus vessel, on a mission assigned by Cerberus, funded by Cerberus money, crafted by Cerberus intelligence. The lines were blurring fast. I reached for my shoulder and started scratching at the Cerberus patch emblazoned on my shirt, as if ripping away a few threads of orange fabric would change things.

I am not working for Cerberus. I'm not even working with Cerberus. I am using Cerberus like a tool, taking what Cerberus gives me, and working for the galaxy. That's the way I choose to look at it. I do wish I could be working with the Council again -- that way I could have the "law" on my side. But Cerberus were the ones who stepped up. They had saved my life, given me a ship. And I was in no position to reject such willing help.

I considered going back to the Citadel soon, talking to the Council. Maybe they could restore my Spectre status and give me the resources I needed to fight these Collectors…

But somewhere around oh three hundred that night, I came across an old Westerlund News article that completely shattered that possibility: Council officially closes file on Sovereign.

Udina: "The Reapers are a myth."

I reared back. Bullshit! Impossible. There was no way he would… Udina was a jackass, but he wasn't a moron. I remembered his inauguration speech like it was yesterday. He had stood at the center of the Citadel Council Chambers, faced the crowd of diplomats and reporters, representatives from every species, and proudly declared that humanity was ready. Ready to lead the attack, ready to fight until the Reapers had been driven back into dark space. He'd been so steadfast, so resolute. I had trusted him. I had put my faith in him. How could he be dismissing the Reapers as myths now, just like that, after all the promises he had made?

…son of a…

The bastard lied! He'd swayed me with impassioned speeches and flowery language, like slimy politicians always did. He never really believed in the Reapers. He had just wanted the great Erin Shepard's support.

And I, the idiot, gave it to him.

Donnell Udina and I had never seen eye to eye, but I had backed him for the ambassadorship because I thought he was the best choice. Captain Anderson was a good man, but he was no politician. Udina knew how to navigate the political arena. He knew how to sway hearts and minds with rousing speeches, how to twist arms, cut backroom deals, intimidate political opposition into silence. He knew how to get things done. He had promised me everything I needed to fight the Reapers. He had assured me that he could get the Council on my side.

And I had swallowed every word of it.

I sighed, then took a long sip of cold, bitter coffee. Politicians. Should have seen it coming. Williams had always said that politicians can't be trusted. Had she been around, she would have convinced me to back Anderson. Hell, I should have backed Anderson regardless. Why hadn't I backed Anderson?

"Udina," I hissed, pronouncing the name like I was spitting out acid. "What the fuck was I thinking?"

Anderson was still around, though. Thankfully. I followed a few links and came upon a New York Times/Terra Nova Tribunal profile on him, dated just about a year ago. After the news of my death hit, he had gone across the galaxy, making speeches and media appearances, trying his best to convince people that the Reapers were real. He'd garnered a lot of support in the Alliance, as well as in the colonies. Admiral Hackett was behind him. So was my mom. But it seemed the rest of the galaxy had decided to believe the Council's shaky story: that Sovereign was just a big geth ship, and that the threat was over. Commander Shepard had saved the galaxy. All was well. Yippee, someone break out the booze. Of course. When a threat that big looms on the horizon, the easiest thing to do is just believe it doesn't exist.

The Alliance had promoted Anderson to admiral in an attempt to shut him up. But as of last year, he was back on the Citadel, speaking out as loudly as ever. It's nice being labeled "hero." You could speak your mind and they wouldn't dare do anything to you.

If I did go back to the Citadel, it would be for Anderson only. No point in wasting my time with Udina and the rest of those Council idiots.

A few more hours passed. I brushed up on other news: political stuff, financial, entertainment. Apparently Carpe Diem 1 had been a critical disaster, but it took in a few billion credits at the box office. No wonder Carpe Diem 2 was in the works. I did eventually look up the specs on the M-97 Viper, too. It was good, but it still couldn't hold a candle to my old HMSWR. I sighed. That rifle had spoiled me. I would probably never be happy with anything else.

That was when I caught a sudden flash of blue out the corner of my eye. I jumped. After hundreds of hours of live combat experience where a flash of light means you've got 0.018 seconds before the bullet hits you, such flashes tend to make you a bit tense.

"I apologize, Commander," came EDI's soft, computerized voice. Her blue orb representation had appeared over my room's computer panel. "I did not mean to startle you."

I shook my head. "Don't worry about it, EDI. What do you need?"

"Mr. Moreau has asked me to inform you that we are approaching Omega," she said.

I blinked once, hard. For the first time that night, I felt the weight of my tired eyelids. "What time is it, EDI?"

"Approximately oh five hundred and seventeen minutes," the AI said without missing a beat.

Well, hell. Already? I had been planning to get at least a few hours of sleep before docking at Omega. "How far out are we?"

Instead of giving me an answer, EDI fed the Normandy's forward camera view directly onto my computer screen. And there Omega was. It floated silently in black space, a blanket of stars dotting the background.

It looked… creepy. Like something out of a troubled young artist's mind. A long metal construct jutted out of the asteroid that was its core, the rock mushrooming forth above a collection of smaller, orbiting asteroids. Omega emitted a red-orange glow of artificial light that reminded me of an alarm. It looked like ten thousand such alarms were going off inside. As the Normandy approached, I started making out details within the metal structure, tight grooves and sharp indentures that lent the station a wild, ferocious appearance. It looked like the Citadel's evil twin. My eyes remained fixated on it for what seemed like ages.

"Are you scared, Commander Shepard?"

I gave EDI a sharp and penetrating glare. Was she… analyzing me? Sensing my anxiety? The idea that an AI was on board at all was going to take some getting used to. No way in hell was I about to have a heart-to-heart with one.

"Omega is the fifth most dangerous location in the galaxy by murder rate per capita," EDI continued, taking my yes for granted. "The station is completely lawless, and populated almost exclusively by criminals. Some of the most dangerous people in the galaxy make it their home. Expect to be attacked. Numerous times."

I looked away, my eyes drifting back to the live feed of Omega on my computer. "Thanks for the reassurance, EDI." I took a long breath. "And no, I'm not scared. A little apprehensive, maybe. But not scared."

"That is good," EDI said. "You are an agent of Cerberus now. You have been given some of the best equipment in the galaxy, and you have two of the most capable agents in our organization at your side. Cerberus is behind you. There is no reason to be scared."

What angered me the most was that EDI's words were true. Mostly. I refused to think of myself as an "agent of Cerberus," but the rest was undeniable. This organization was behind me. Completely and utterly. The Illusive Man, as deceitful as I knew he was, had poured billions of credits into me for a reason. He'd put his full faith in me, and he was backing me with the strength of one of the most powerful groups in the galaxy. He had given me a ship, some fantastic equipment, the best crew in the galaxy. And most important of all, he had given me autonomy. While the Council sat around pretending like the Reapers were one giant myth, Cerberus was fighting. Cerberus was fighting fiercely, bitterly, with money, politics, technology, agents; every last resource they had. And if I wanted to fight, I was going to have to fight with them.

I didn't have to like them. But I had to admit, they deserved my respect.