HEY GUYS! So, I got some really good reviews on what I have for As If Everything Was Held In Place. And I appreciate all of that. Problem. I have no idea what to do with it. I've had a very bad creative block for a while now. But I've developed a process in which I think I can overcome that. My secret? SLEEP. I dream some pretty bad ass things. And this is one of my dreams that is kind of coming to fruition. So yeah...Enjoy and hopefully I'll have new material for my other story soon.

All things in this story are property of Bioware, minus my character, Malcolm Shepard.


Why couldn't anything be easy?

Oh yeah, because I was dealing with the Magnificent John Shepard.

The One and Only.

I'm always left to clean up his messes. Whether it be the political backwash of a fallen Batarian system. Down to the antique Pall'e du trois Vase that had shattered in the living room while my beloved big brother was 'protecting' the galaxy. Man, mother sure had a fit on that one. Although I would be upset if I found the last remaining piece in the bottom of my husband's foot as well.
And Even through all the yelling and bantering and the TWO hour long lecture, I still nodded my head and took all of the blame.

Why did I do this?

Beats me. I never knew why. To this day, 20 years later, I STILL don't understand why I took the blame for my Oh So Amazing brother. Because I wanted to be in his better light? Because deep down I wanted his position at the center of the galaxy? Or maybe because I knew he couldn't take two steps without having to have someone cover his ass.

Non of this makes sense to me. I can't stand him. His sure fire confidence which in my opinion was on the border of arrogance. His good ideals. His... power.

That was something he most definitely had. Power.

Not so much in the physical aspect, although he had been a power house there as well. But more so in his... aura, for lack of better wording.

It was as if when he spoke, you HAD to listen. As if your life was on the cliff of every syllable that escaped from his mouth. Even when he was joking.

He was destined to lead the galaxy to this point. To lead them all. And in retrospect I guess that made me 'destined' to make sure he did it, in the cleanest way possible. As if I HAVE to follow behind him.

That phrase. "Have to."
I really don't have a choice. Nobody does. I mean I guess they do. But seemingly everyone that doesn't follow John's view, ends up dead. I'd rather not be that sad bunch of people.

In the end that was the real reason I accepted this position from the council. Because it's smarter, and safer, to be on the front lines with John, than it was to hide away anywhere in the galaxy.

Not that I'd be firing a gun at anyone any time soon. But let me tell ya, Bureaucracy is usually no better or less stressful for that matter. In fact, sometimes I feel like I should just pick up an assault rifle and toss myself in boot camp or something. Too bad I absolutely despise guns then, huh?

Besides, I had more than 98% of the galaxy. I non violent, usually easy job. An apartment the size of a cruiser on the beautiful presidium. More money than I cared to figure out what to do with. But then it happened again. Yet another mess I had to clean up.

John Shepard.

A Turian.

A Krogan.

AND a Salarian.

Just the story that was bound to repeat itself until I managed to stab myself in the neck with the digi pen I used for my data pad.

And worse. I was being forced to go out there in person to deal with it. AND to stay with the Normandy to make sure everything went smoothly.
Fine. Back to cleaning up his messes.

I just hope there's less blood to deal with in this one.


"Would you be willing to except the job, Malcolm?"

"I feel like I really don't have a choice, Counselor. I already know there isn't anybody suitable for this."

Steeling my gaze at Counselor Udina. That pompous excuse for a human being. How much I would love to take the digi pen stuck in my own neck, and stab it into his.

He knew I'd say yes. And that knowing smirk. That nasal induced voice. I'm not one to hate. But damn if he was on fire, it would be my doing.

"You always have a choice. That was part of the agreement to this job. But that statement is true. We all feel there's nobody else better suited for this."

The Asari's glowing blue eyes attempted to pierce mine. The phrase 'embrace eternity' entered my head briefly, and I had to try very hard not to shiver.

I never did understand the galaxy's view on how attractive the species was. Although more polite than most races, the still held an air of confidence. One that said 'I was here first. I know more than you.'

They're all so naive still. She didn't even believe that John could make this all work. And yet she still voted to appoint me. Know more than the rest of us? Yeah, my ass.

"Well then, I'll head to my office and set up the communicator at..."

"Not so fast Mr. Shepard." The Turian dignitary interrupted.

"We all feel it would be better if you were there in person to read the situation in it's entirety."

My face fell into the position of what I'm sure looked like a fish that had been taken out of water.

"I'm sorry sir, but do you mean the... honorable role-players of this wasted attempt at an alliance will be coming here? To the Citadel? Where there are in fact people and objects that are easily broken by a Krogan's temper?"

"No. I mean that you will be catching a ship to the Normandy's location, and escorting John Shepard and it's crew into a future that will be able to stand against the Reaper threat."

And just like that, I could feel myself drowning.


And that is my idea of an Introduction/Prologue. And I know I did this with my last story but this one I have plot ideas ALL over the place. There WILL be more. And VERY soon. :)