Hello, hello.

First, thank you for taking interest in this story. If you're reading this, I assume you clicked on the story out of curiosity...or total boredom. Either way, thank you kindly.

Second, I wanted to mention that this is my first 'full length' story. I haven't done anything more than one shots in the past (or a series of one shots...which is just...one shots...), so this is new territory for me. Also, while I love fiction, I have exclusively written articles for the past several years, so I am definitely treading on unfamiliar ground. If you enjoy the first chapter and would like to help it along, don't be afraid to offer advice.

Honestly, if it weren't for Melaradark's Dark Energy series, I probably wouldn't have gone for it. Her story has been simply wonderful, and has encouraged this paragon player to play Mass Effect with a more Renegade edge. Anyways, it's a beautiful story, and I am hooked. More importantly, it made me fall more in love with my Shepard and inspired me to tell her story. So, cheers Melaradark.

Third - a few things about the story.

My Shepard is Earthborn/War Hero. I have only played as two different Shepards in my games, so this is a mixture between the two. She's mostly paragon, but she's also human. A lot of her experiences or things she enjoys are loosely (and sometimes closely) based on things I have experienced and enjoy. Tibetan prayer beads, a love of beer with a good group of friends, traveler, etc. I lived in Japan for a long while, so I've always imagined her having connections there...but that come too close to other stories, so I'll probably leave that out. Anyways, here's to hoping you enjoy her as much as I do.

Also, there will be a language (Paragons with a potty mouth? HOW DARE YO-), violence (sometimes vividly described) and sexual content. This is rated M for all the good reasons (right?).

I don't have a beta reader. This first chapter took me months to write (I rewrote it constantly), but the other chapters will be written and published as they flow out of me. Now that I'm on a roll, I think it'll be easier to write now that I've finally finished the first chapter. It will not be months until the next chapter. Days is more accurate. I'd like to become the kind of writer that puts out several chapters a week, but we'll see how things go from here.

And last but not least - these first two chapters will center around Shepard's background information. We begin with her Earthborn history, which will end in the next chapter, at which point her War Hero history will begin and conclude. Starting in chapter three, we'll be headed for Eden Prime.

The skeleton of the story is canon - but, I think that's the point of Mass Effect. They give you the basic story, and you fill in the blanks. It's obviously not happening in real time, so we get to be the authors of every moment in between. So, everything will happen as it does in the game (for the most part - no promises), and the rest will be straight out of my brain.

Okay, I'm shutting up now. Cheers.

Later, as blood leaked through his chapped lips and formed a pool on the floor, he would regret not heeding the flash in her deadly, green eyes. But now, as he saw her finally acknowledge his presence in the room, he disregarded the fury and focused on the task at hand.

Kneeling on the floor, cradling the broken, naked body of her girlfriend, he saw that she was visibly shaking. In all the years he had known her, he had never seen her cry.

"Years…" He thought idly, "Yes, it has been a rather long time since we first met."

He remembered vividly the day he found the sole survivor of the Olympic Serial Murders – a series of murders committed by a xenophobic cult leader on the run. He had invaded house after house along the Olympic Peninsula of Washington state, looking for somewhere to hide as he outran the police. Any family who had the misfortune of returning home while he was there was quickly 'silenced'. Later, when they found him, wounded and dying in the forest, he would mumble something about their deaths being for the greater good.

But the little girl he had found, fending off bullies in an alleyway somewhere in Seattle, had somehow escaped his murderous grasp. He remembered her wild, bleach blonde hair, her piercing green eyes, and the splatter of freckles that somehow only made her look fiercer. Although her features looked nothing like it, he couldn't help but be reminded of a lion as he watched her fight off three grown men on her own.

He stood in the darkness for a long while, watching her fight the men on her own. Her agility and movements were their undoing, and he thought they must be stupid. She's just a little girl; if you work together, this would be over immediately. As though they had heard his thoughts, one of them successfully landed a blow as the little lion focused on another. She was barely ten years old, and the punch knocked the wind out of her. Her body seemed to melt, as her knees gave way, and she collapsed on the ground. Realizing that the little girl probably had very little time left, he began to step from his place in the darkness, ready to help her. But as he walked towards the sick, dimwitted trio, he saw the girl drag herself to a kneeling position.

The three men were busy gloating and hardly noticed that she was slowly recovering.

If he hadn't seen the gleam of steel as she unsheathed the knife, he probably wouldn't have seen her movements at all. But as she pulled a knife from her mismatched clothes, he saw her eyes narrow, and he knew she was about to impress him.

In one swift movement, she slipped between their legs and sliced through their Achilles tendons. They fell in quick succession, crying out and gripping their legs. She stood in the middle of their bodies, replaced her knife and finally looked towards the stranger in the darkness. He remembered the way her eyes saw through him. He remembered stepping out of the darkness, speaking with her, offering her a place at his side.

And despite her initial refusal, he could tell that she wanted nothing more than to be part of something bigger than herself – much like the family she had lost – and to finally have a place that she could call home.

Eventually, he found her sleeping on a bunk in one of his barracks.

It was nearly eight years later, and he found himself in a similar position as the day he found her. He was watching her from the darkness, and her piercing, green eyes had found him long before he had made himself known. Now, as he stepped out of the darkness, he felt a pang of regret. He had raised her – taught her everything that he knew. She was his greatest achievement. He was the child he had been denied. He was about to destroy his greatest creation.

But, as he lifted his pistol, his aim falling between her eyes, he knew that he must do what was necessary. It was for the greater good, after all.

October 2171/Seattle, Washington

Theo Quin Shepard stood shrouded by darkness in the back of a derelict classroom. Her wild blonde hair fell on her face, but not enough to hide her green eyes. Leaning against a wall, her body language betrayed her height; she was only a few inches short of six feet. Her clothes were all varying shades of black and ash, except for the singular red sand-scarf that hung around her neck. Bits of light armor were held in place by different wraps, and only covered what was vitally necessary.

She stood silently, watching the meeting that took place in the classroom. Sitting where a teacher might sit was Jackson Riley, who spoke passionately to the other attendees. Jackson was a tall, handsome man; his salt-and-pepper hair and blue eyes charmed everyone he met. He was also the founder and leader of the Tenth Street Reds, a gang that spanned North America and into some parts of Asia and Europe. He had started the gang in New York nearly fifteen years ago, before returning to his home state of Washington to lead the organization from there.

The gang fronted as a smuggling group, and the majority of its members believed that was the sole function of their organization. However, the smuggling was meant only to distract from the work the Reds actually did – assassinations. They were the people many politicians, CEO's, and other gang leaders called upon when they needed someone eliminated.

Recently, however, they had been offered work by an unnamed pro-human group. While many of Jackson's lieutenants hadn't seen a problem with taking jobs from them, Jackson had vehemently contended that the Reds were better than a group of xenophobic bastards. None of the lieutenants in favor of taking the work were xenophobic; they simply argued that the Reds were a neutral group. Assassins, they said, were simply a weapon; the arm that wields them was the true aggressor.

Jackson, however, was not swayed. While he himself had made the same argument in years past, he felt that their newest contacts were worth the exception.

Shepard listened patiently from the shadows, grateful to Jackson for not accepting work from the pro-human group. She imagined for a moment what would happen if Jackson had accepted the work and assigned her to the job.

"It would get messy rather fast," she thought idly to herself.

The discussion broke through her thoughts, however, as other attendees began offering differing opinions.

"But Jackson, be reasonable. I don't like what they stand for any more than you do, but we've never turned down work before. We've taken questionable hits in the past, and always remained neutral. What's so different about this?"

Jackson took a deep breath and responded, "Our neutral stance has saved us multiple times in the past, but it hasn't always been our saving grace. How many times have we narrowly evaded blame? We may be the invisible middle man, but that doesn't mean we're perfect. All it takes is one trace of our existence, and we're caught in the middle of a fight we didn't ask for. This pro-human group – do we want to risk being grouped with them? Do we want to risk going from a neutral gun-for-hire to a wanted terrorist organization?"

There was chatter in the room before the lieutenant who questioned him before spoke up. "With all due respect, sir, I can't help but feel that we're caving to 'what if' scenarios. If we start getting worried about our client's reputation now, we may soon run out of clients altogether."

Other lieutenants murmured their agreement, visibly nodding their heads. Jackson, feeling slightly defeated, hung his head as he rubbed his forehead. Looking up once more, he spoke. "I understand your fears, and I acknowledge that I am not being consistent with my current stance. But, I am asking you to trust me. I have faithfully led this group for the better part of my life. I have invested all I have in you and the work we do. I wouldn't ask for this exception if I did not think it was a wise decision."

His words were received by silence as the lieutenants mulled over his words. Finally, an older man stood, dressed in sand-colored garbs and armor. "You haven't led us astray yet, Jackson. I'll trust you." Other lieutenants slowly stood and nodded in agreement, before the questioning lieutenant also stood. "I, too, will yield. However, I must ask that this does not become a regular occurrence."

Jackson bowed slightly in gratitude and the lieutenants began filing out of the room. Stepping from her place in the darkness, Shepard finally stood where Jackson could see her. "Well done, sir," she said simply. He had leaned over an old desk, palms flat on the surface with his head hung in weariness. "I'm getting tired, Shepard. Asking them to do something against our nature…without a proper reason…it doesn't look good, does it?"

Shepard studied him carefully before stepping closer to the desk. "Sometimes we have to make the hard calls. They may not make sense at the time, but they benefit us in the long run. I believe you made the right choice; pro-human groups are too volatile to be trusted."

Looking up from the desk, Jackson smiled sadly. "Oh well. This will blow over soon enough…and you only just got home," his smile grew and he winked as he added, "I'm sure Maleigh is anxious to see you."

Shepard's usually stoic face was suddenly bright red as she blushed. "Ah, yes. Thank you, sir. I'm sure your wife will be most anxious to see you as well." Standing now, Jackson turned to respond.

"Actually, I've been meaning to tell you…Laura and I are expecting."

Shepard's features changed very little at the news, but her eyebrow still lifted in surprise. "Congratulations, sir. I'm sure you are both very excited."

Laughing, Jackson clasped Shepard on the shoulder. "I think all this shadow work has killed your emotions, Shepard. If you don't start acting more expressively, people might think you're dead inside," he chided, "Although, given your reaction to my mention of Maleigh, I would hazard a guess that she sees a side of you we rarely see."

Shepard blushed once more, which only furthered Jackson's laughter. "Ah well, I'm just teasing you. Get out of here and enjoy the break."

Nodding slightly, Shepard slipped out of the room.

As she exited the old schoolhouse, she slipped into a nearby alley and quickened her pace. As she neared a dead end, she kick-jumped off the wall and caught the railing of a fire escape overhead. Using the balconies and windowsills of the neighboring building, she made her way to the top. Catching the ledge and pulling herself up with expert grace, she quickened her pace once more, jumping between pipes and exhaust ports, leaping between roofs, and sliding down poles. A hundred years ago, this was a sport called 'parkour', but now it was the swiftest way for her to move about the city undetected. As an assassin, it was one of her finer abilities; however, not all assassins moved the same way. Some were snipers and others were infiltrators.

Shepard was unique; she got in close and used her hands.

Moving quickly through the city, she finally slid down the drainage pipe of an apartment building and rolled onto the ground, jumping to her feet. Regaining a calm composure, she exited the shadows and entered the bustling streets, crossing one on her way to an old apartment building surrounded by a large privacy fence.

The building had been abandoned the owner's some years ago, but a few tenants still inhabited the building. The fence provided them with a bit of green space, and as Shepard slipped through a hole, she stepped onto one of the only patches of grass in Seattle's inner city. Straightening, she looked across the yard to where a young woman sat reading an old book. She had long, brown hair and blazing blue eyes. Her face was sprinkled with freckles, and her smile revealed endearing dimples. She wore a blue sundress as she sat reading on an old lawn chair. Shepard eased towards her, her canter becoming more relaxed with every step. Finally, the girl looked up from her book. It was impossible to tell whether her mouth or eyes smiled first, but it quickly made little difference. Dropping the book, she jumped from her seat, murmuring a single name.

"Shepard."

They were in each other's arms almost instantly. Before they could say anything else, they were kissing with urgent force. Shepard wound her arms around Maleigh's waist and lifted her off the ground with ease. As she suddenly began to spin in a circle, Maleigh broke the kiss and laughed.

Shepard finally eased her back to the ground. "I've missed you, Maleigh." Leaning in so that their foreheads were resting against each other, Maleigh smiled. "I've missed you, too, Teddy." They stood there a long time, enjoying each other's presence, before Maleigh lifted her hands and cupped Shepard's face. "Come on. Let's get you inside and feed you."

Smiling ruefully, Shepard chuckled. "Is that a proposition, milady?"

Maleigh slapped Shepard's arm playfully. "Oh, there will be food, Shepard. But don't think for a moment that you are getting off with just a home cooked meal."

Smiling, Shepard took her hand and they walked inside.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They lay in bed with the lights dimmed, breathing heavily as they recovered from their 'rigorous' activities. Maleigh's head rested against Shepard's bare shoulder, with her arms wound around her torso. Peering down at the beautiful body pushed against her, Shepard smiled contently as she closed her eyes. It was these moments that left her reeling. She could only feel thankful as she thought of how she had first met Maleigh.

Shepard was Jackson's best assassin, but she wasn't without mistakes. Her style of getting in close and finishing her target with a knife had earned her a few battle wounds; many of which nearly ended her life. She received one such wound four months prior, while taking down a crime lord in the inner city. Jackson rarely had Shepard do anything in the Northwest region; he almost always sent her away for 'bigger fish'. However, a big name had come to town looking to ship weapons overseas. Shepard was sent to silence the operation.

The crime boss, a man named Lawrence Riechman, had settled into a warehouse for the night. In the center facility, surrounded by cargo and shipments, they had set up a cozy sitting area where they were playing cards, smoking, and enjoying a few drinks. Paroling the corridors between containers were ten armed guards.

Outside, Shepard placed timed charges on the breakers. She decided that the best course of action was to eliminate the guards before the charges cut the power, so that she wouldn't be dodging blind fire while taking down her target. The charges granted her three minutes to kill all ten guards.

Dropping in from a skylight, Shepard paused. Kneeling on a large shipping container, she breathed in deeply, centering herself. When she had counted ten inhales without becoming distracted, she opened her eyes.

Moving along either side of the shipping container, two guards unknowingly made their way past her. Quickly, Shepard descended on one of the guards, using gravity to shove a knife through his skull, while her left hand threw a knife between two containers, striking and killing the other guard.

Pulling the knife from his skull, she moved around and gathered her other knife. She paused for a moment, listening, and then quietly ran to the other end of the corridor formed by the cargo. As she neared the end, a guard turned the corner. Rolling before his eyes could track her movements, she threw a knife upwards, catching his mouth and killing him instantly.

Checking her wrist, she saw that she only had two minutes left. Sprinting now, with perfect silence, she killed five more guards with deadly precision.

The last two had paused at the end of a corridor, chatting near the poker table. Realizing that she would only draw attention to herself by killing them while the lights were on, she paused. Ten seconds.

As the final seconds count down, she mapped the lounge area with her eyes, memorizing every detail so that she could move easily in the dark. It was then that she noticed something.

One of the poker players, who she had first assumed was just another lackey, was looking in her direction. He turned his head slightly, his eyes narrowing, and he smiled. Shepard's breathing shifted slightly, as she shuddered. For a moment, she feared she had been seen.But as the clock reached one second, the man looked back down at the cards in his hand.

And then there was darkness.

Descending on the two guards, Shepard killed them both instantly and moved quickly to the center of the warehouse. The poker players were now on their feet, shouting, and pulling out their guns. Lawrence was screaming at them to shut up, but it was too late.

Each one of the frightened lackeys ended their screams in gurgles as their throats were quickly slit. As she neared Lawrence, ready to stab him in the gut and rip through his windpipe, she felt something catch her blade.

It was another knife.

Suddenly, she found herself sparring with someone she could not see. The small amount of streetlight that shone through the skylights only offered her enough vision to catch a gleam of blade here and there. It was as she fought off this barrage of swings that she heard Lawrence trying to run away. A particular wide and vicious swing swiped towards her, and Shepard ducked quickly, throwing her left arm so that a knife flew in Lawrence's direction. Her aim was true; she heard the brief gasp of pain before the loud thud of his body slamming into the floor.

Her attacker, however, was only getting started. Retrieving a knife from inside her clothing, she kept up her defense.

Her cockiness was her undoing, however, as her enemy surprised her. In one fell swoop, he unarmed both of her hands, sending her knives flying in different directions. A low voice chided, "Let's see what you can do without your little toys, eh?"

Her ego quickly recovered from her initial shock, as smiled into the darkness. Her enemy descended upon her again, his barrage of swings more vicious than before. Jackson, however, did not consider Shepard his best simply because she could throw around a few knives.

Having been a military man himself for some time, he was a master of Krav Maga.

He taught Shepard everything he knew.

Shepard began expertly deterring his attacking, blocking each one masterfully. Pushing away one strike, she caught the other with her right hand and used his own momentum against him. She threw him, removing the knife as she did. Knowing that she couldn't simply finish him in the darkness, she prepared herself for his recovery.

After some shuffling, the room grew silent again. Shepard concentrated on her breathing, calming down enough to hear everything around her. It was then that he struck. Catching the knife before it could dig into her heart, she flipped it and began pushing back towards his throat. They struggled for a moment before Shepard cried out and pushed, shoving the knife in as far as she could. It was then that she felt a deep pang in her side. Feeling her side, she found that he had shoved a smaller knife in her side when she had moved to catch the other blade. As her attacker collapsed, gurgling out his last breath, Shepard stumbled backwards clutching her side. Pulling slightly, she removed the blade with a wince, and made her way to the door.

She was losing blood rapidly and her mind was clouded. Stumbling outside, she barely registered that it had begun to rain.

Too delirious to make a rational decision, she attempted to walk to the nearest safe house. Somewhere along the way, she collapsed on the road, where her blood poured out and mixed with rain water.

Just before she lost consciousness, she saw someone standing over her. She could see that their mouth was moving, but she couldn't hear anything. And then, she was gone.

When she awoke, she was lying in a bed in a dimly lit room. Her head was heavy and she attempted to sit up but quickly collapsed back into her pillow. It was then she heard a voice.

"I wouldn't try to move right now. You've lost a lot of blood and you'll probably need to rest a while longer before sitting up."

Looking to the source of the voice, she saw Maleigh for the first time. Although she would come to know Maleigh as a lovely, free-spirited girl, her first impression was one of suspicion and timidity. Looking beside the girl, she saw that her clothes were laid out across a chair. On the table nearby were all of her weapons, laid out as though on display.

"Yes, I found your…collection. You are a well-armed individual. I take that to mean you are a gang member, perhaps?"

Shepard's eyes fluttered as she attempted to maintain consciousness.

"Whatever I am," Shepard heaved, "I'm not very good at it, am I?"

The girl crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly. "That would depend. Word is that a crime lord shipping weapons to Russia was found dead in his warehouse. Police think it was a rival gang…or a vigilante."

Stepping forward slightly, Maleigh drew closer to Shepard, "So which are you?"

Later, as Shepard healed, the two slowly got to know each other. What began as a show of kindness and a great deal of suspicion quickly grew into a blossoming friendship. It wasn't until nearly two months later that they had confessed their feelings for one another.

They were sitting in a quiet bar, talking about their respective weeks. Seeing that Maleigh had finished her drink, Shepard offered to buy her another. As she stood at the bar, ordering them both another beer, two men wandered over to Maleigh's table. While not overly threatening, they were both clearly drunk and too forward with their desires. As Shepard made her way back to the table, her eyes narrowing dangerously, she saw one of them reach out and nip one of Maleigh's breasts.

It was the last thing he did, however, as Shepard sent him flying into a nearby pool table, shattering several bones. The other man threw a disoriented punch, which she easily sidestepped. Losing his balance, the man was his own undoing as he collided with the floor and knocked himself out.

Standing, Maleigh placed a hand on Shepard's arm. Shepard's chest was heaving and her eyes were flashing. Finally, looking at Maleigh, she nodded. Grabbing her hand, they left the bar before the police could arrive.

Stepping into a nearby alley, Shepard pulled a strand of Tibetan Prayer Beads from her shirt and began trying to focus her anger. Suddenly, she felt Maleigh's hands on her face, drawing their eyes to each other. Maleigh offered a gentle smile and then bent in, kissing her gently.

She pulled back after a moment and searched Shepard's eyes. Shepard's heavy breathing seemed to have stopped – in fact, she wasn't sure she was breathing at all. But then, with ferocity and hidden desire, Shepard cupped Maleigh's face and kissed her again. They broke away after a long time, breathing heavily. It was then that Maleigh called Shepard 'Teddy' for the first time.

"Teddy…I've wanted to do that for a long time."

Pulling her into a hug and resting her head on Maleigh's shoulder, Shepard breathed, "Me too."

Now lying together naked, Shepard smiled. It still boggled her mind how Maleigh had come to trust someone like herself in so little time. It didn't matter, however; she was simply happy to have her at all.

Bringing Shepard out of her revere, Maleigh broke the silence. "So, how did the meeting go? Was Jackson successful?"

Sighing, Shepard replied, "For the most part, yes. The lieutenants had fair arguments."

Shifting her head so that she could see her, Maleigh gave her an incredulous look. "What argument can you have for working with a possible terrorist organization?"

"It's not about who they are, but what we are. Assassins do not take sides. We are simply a gun, so to speak. They point and shoot us where they will. The lieutenants were simply worried that if we begin picking and choosing our clients based on any moral code, we'd slowly lose our neutral ground. For the most part, it's protected us from retribution."

Maleigh scowled slightly, which Shepard found endearing. "Perhaps you should take sides. You've had good reasons for nearly all of your kills. Jackson has yet to send you on a questionable mission."

Chuckling, Shepard only pulled her closer. Feeling Maleigh's skin against her own, she suddenly remembered Jackson's news. "Oh! I nearly forgot…Jackson and Laura are expecting." Shepard felt Maleigh smile against her skin. "That's wonderful. He'll make an excellent father."

"I agree."

January, 2172/Seattle, Washington

The snow had been gracious to Jackson, and stopped falling long enough for the funeral. He watched with hallow eyes as they lowered the casket into the ground.

His wife, Laura, was dead…as was their unborn child.

Laura's parents had left earth to help colonize new planets. Her father was a geographer, and was given a grant to help map out new worlds. Because they had moved so very far away, Laura only saw them once every couple years. Usually, they came to Earth to visit, but on this occasion, they paid her way to visit their new home. Jackson had wanted to come, but couldn't with several different contracts to address. So he asked a dear friend to accompany her and watched them as their ship faded into the sky.

She made it there safely, and Jackson traded daily transmissions with her. The return trip, however, was not quite as successful.

On their way back to Earth, their ship was intercepted by Batarians. Furious with the Council's recent decision to grant Humans colony rights to 'their' worlds, the Batarians decided they would wreak their retribution on the small transit vessels that passed through their space.

The ship returned to Earth in one piece, but as it landed, no one exited. As the shipyard officials boarded the vessel, they were met with a gruesome sight: everyone onboard had been murdered. By the look of their wounds, it had been a painful death.

The Batarians had installed a VI to fly the ship back. It was a warning: stay out of our space.

The Alliance acted swiftly, accusing the Batarian government of retribution in light of the Council's decision. The Hegemony quickly denied involvement, blaming the murders on rogue pirates.

"Your quarrel is not with us, Humans. If you want justice, look for actual criminals – don't blame us for sending unarmed ships into space. Your naivety is to blame, not our government."

Jackson had screamed himself hoarse at the Alliance officials, but it was of no use – they were just as helpless as he was.

And so he stood before her tombstone, angry tears quietly falling.

Standing several yards behind him was Shepard and Maleigh. Both dressed in black, their arms were linked as they stood respectfully in the distance. A few other lieutenants had come and gone, all offering their respects, but Jackson and Laura had been more than friends to Shepard, so she chose to stay until Jackson asked her to go. Maleigh, undeterred by the cold, remained at Shepard's side.

After the grave was covered and the graveyard workers had left the site, Jackson quietly called out to Shepard.

"Shepard," he mumbled, "Come here."

Shepard looked at Maleigh for a moment before pulling away and walking towards Jackson. Stepping beside him, she stood silently, searching for his eyes. Looking down, he spoke brokenly.

"I need you to help me."

Shepard turned her head slightly. "Definitely – do you need a ride home, a –"

Shaking his head, he looked up slightly out of the corner of his eyes. "No, I need you to do a job."

"A job?"

"Yes. But…I need you to do it with minimal details. Can…can you do that for me?"

"Jackson, I-"

"Please, Shepard. Please trust me. I'll never ask you to do something like this again…I just…I just can't risk it. Please do this for me."

Shepard could not stand the brokenness in his voice, or the shattered resolve in his eyes. She trusted Jackson – he had not led her astray yet. He was, in essence, a father to her.

"Of course, Jackson. When do I leave?"

Sighing slightly, he looked forward, staring at the rolling hills of tombstones. "Tomorrow afternoon. The flight will set you down with enough time to take position. If we do this right, you'll be home the next day."

Although she was willing to do whatever Jackson asked of her, she was thankful that the job wouldn't pull her away from Maleigh for a long period of time. Nodding, she turned to retreat back to Maleigh.

"Shepard."

She stopped and looked at him, listening for further instructions.

"Thank you…"

Smiling sadly, Shepard nodded. "Absolutely."

Turning, she took Maleigh's hand and they made their way to a nearby street car.

Still standing by his wife's grave, he shuddered out a sob. "…and I'm sorry."

He rubbed his face with his gloves, clearing the tears. Looking up, he took a deep breathe, straightened a little and turned to walk away.

"It's for the greater good."

Well, that's the end of the first chapter.

Review if you enjoyed the story (I know it can be a hassle), or if you have any questions. I used the Codex and the Wiki in order to get accurate dates, names and historical references, so let me know if I got something 'wrong'. I'm not sure I'll change it, but it'll be good to find out how the canon differs from the direction I'm taking my story.

Cheers!