This story features varying POV and is set mainly during ME3, but will revisit ME1 and 2 along the way. The rating will change to 'M' later on, but I'll give fair warning.

John Shepard is the default 'Sheploo', an Engineer and Ruthless/Earthborn Renegade. He generally treats his crew and allies with respect, but the mission and accumulation of war assets are paramount.

I need to give a very special thank-you to my dear friend Carrie, whose encouragement and advice has been invaluable. Thanks, chick, you really went above and beyond. :)

Be advised: this story contains UK English spelling. ;)

Enough rambling! I really hope you enjoy this, and thank you for reading!

Alliance HQ, Vancouver, 2186 (Kaidan's POV)

If I were in Shepard's position I might feel used.

I don't know exactly what happened on Aratoht, only that an entire colony was destroyed along with the relay, leaving 300,000 batarians dead. Yes, it was necessary. But someone had to answer for it.

Shepard did the only thing he could at the time, and the Alliance did the only thing it could in response. They brought him to HQ, officially under arrest, while he awaited trial. Although he was never court-martialled, and wasn't exactly living on bread and water here, the loss of his command and his ship was as good as a prison sentence.

And now, Luna Base has caught something on long-range and the Alliance suddenly needs the formerly-dead, formerly-turned-traitor and mass murderer Commander John Shepard. At least that's how the press paint him.

Used. That's exactly how Shepard must feel, and I know this because I know him.

At least… I thought I did.

Sure, Shepard's decision to work with Cerberus turned out well enough for humankind, but what drove a man like John Shepard—Alliance through and through—to work with a bunch of terrorists in the first place?

Why didn't he walk away as soon as he knew who those people were? Why didn't he reach out to the Alliance, the Council?

Wait. How do I know he didn't? Do I really know, with absolute certainty, that he didn't?

I'm overthinking again. Shepard always said I thought too much, had to break absolutely everything down into its constituent parts, and then examine those parts over and over again 'til I nearly drove myself crazy. He used to lay his hand on my forehead and joke that my brain was cooking—'Stick a fork in it, Alenko, it's done'. Well, I guess he was right about that.

He was right about joining Cerberus, too, I know that now. If he hadn't—if he and his crew hadn't taken down the Collectors—we'd all be paste in a damned tube. He was right and I was wrong. About him, anyway.

Not so sure I was wrong about Cerberus, though.

I'm nervous and with good reason. Last time I saw Shepard was on Horizon, and that didn't go so well. For either of us, I guess. We both said things that… well, I did mean them, only I wish I'd said them differently. Maybe Shepard feels the same way, but there's no way to know.

Cut a long story short, we used to be friends, good ones, until that day. Now… I dunno.

Anderson's bringing him here, where the Committee's waiting. And that's all I can do—wait. And think. About everything.

Damn, I wish I'd told him. If I had, then he might have understood why I reacted the way I did on Horizon. Maybe if I'd told him, so much time wouldn't have been wasted. Now, facing the end of the world—because Anderson and I are certain it's the Reapers even if the Committee's not—it's probably too late.

But I didn't tell him. How could I? How could I say something like that to my CO, to Commander Shepard, for God's sake? It would have gone against everything I am. Regs. Duty. Etiquette. Dignity. Self-control. Yeah, those are the driving forces behind Kaidan Alenko, along with a helping of expectation and peer pressure. It's always been that way, ever since what happened at BAaT, and it's best for everyone that it stays that way.

Not even that night before Ilos—when I sat alone in the Mess with so many thoughts running through my head that I thought I might explode, not even when Shepard privately confided in me that it might be a one-way trip—had I been able to tell him.

Not even when I stood outside his quarters at two in the morning—never more unsure of myself, never so lost for words, never so desperate for human contact—had I told him.

And when I walked away, with all those words I'd practised so many times still unspoken, when I lay on my bunk, stared up at the ceiling and endured a sleepless night, I knew I'd never be able to tell him.

Yet I still don't know why.

I mean it's not like I was ever intimidated by Shepard. He was a hero back then. His enemies feared and respected him because of his prowess in battle, tactical mastery and reputation for doing whatever it took to complete the mission. And I mean whatever it took. But to his crew and allies, Shepard was a serious but decent guy, and an excellent CO. Best I've ever had, and not just because of that.

Now, though? He took down the Collectors, killed 300,000 batarians, is a known Cerberus collaborator and has links to Aria T'Loak, Archangel, a drell assassin, a co-founder of the Blue Suns, the Shadow Broker and a biotic experiment gone wrong—Subject Zero—to name but a few.

Shepard's got an entirely different reputation these days, and although I now outrank him, I gotta admit that yes, I am intimidated at the thought of seeing him, talking to him, again. Hell, the Reapers are headed for Earth and I'm standing here, worrying about what to say to him?

I mean I guess I just hate the unknown. I have no clue what's going to happen in the next few minutes, how we're going to react to seeing each other. Is he even the same man anymore? If he's changed, is it by choice, or have circumstances shaped him?

I hear muffled conversation and approaching footsteps from the west. He's coming… they're coming.

Or is it something else? What did Cerberus do to him? How did they bring a man back from the dead after two years? It's just not possible, is it? And yet…

"Good luck in there, Shepard."

I look up. Anderson's already talking with one of the Committee's aides, and Shepard's shaking hands with a huge guy—I'm guessing his bodyguard—with his back to me. Okay. This is it.

I straighten up, clear my throat. "Shepard."

Good. I sound clear, confident and friendly. Not too friendly, though. Yeah. Think I came over pretty well and oh God he's turning around—

More than a year spent waiting for this moment.

Our eyes meet. Shepard's unshaven and has frown lines I don't remember seeing before, along with some nasty scarring to each side of his face. He looks tired. Not the kind of tired you get from a late night but the kind of tired you get from months of not really sleeping at all.

He looks older.

"Kaidan?"

"How'd it go in there, Major?"

I blink, my attention hurtling back to the present, and tear my gaze away from Shepard to concentrate on Anderson, mumbling a few words in response.

"Major?" Shepard stalks forward, suspicion or confusion on his face, I'm not sure which.

"You didn't know?" asks Anderson.

"No, I'm a bit out of the loop these days."

"Sorry, sir." I don't need to call him sir anymore but hell, what else am I supposed to call him? He's… was my CO."Didn't mean to keep you out of the loop."

Shepard nods, his eyes pinning me in place. "Not like the Reapers arrived and you didn't tell me."

That… was unexpected. He sounds pissed. "I guess you're right."

Oblivious to the exchange, Anderson's already deep in conversation with another aide, while Shepard and I size each other up while pretending not to.

His shoulders sag just a little, and his eyes lose that penetrating, soul-piercing glint. "You look good, Major," he says in a cautious tone. "And… congratulations."

"Thanks. Uh, so do you. Look good, I mean."

He strokes along his fuzzy jawline, wincing slightly when he touches the edge of one of his scars. How did he get those? They look pretty horrific. "Never were a good liar, were you, Alenko."

I smile. "Quick shave and you'll be good to go." Oh man. Talk about a banal thing to say. Jesus. A year since Horizon and that's the best I can do?

He gives a quiet sigh and looks away, his eyes hooded. "Yup. Good to go. That's me."

I watch him, just for a second wanting to reach out to him, but I know I can't, and he's lost in thought anyway. Out of small talk, we stand in awkward silence for a minute before Anderson calls Shepard over.

"They're ready for us. Let's go."

Shepard walks by, his eyes briefly settling on mine, but his mind's someplace else. I watch as they disappear behind a door, feeling a presence behind me.

"You know the commander?"

"… I used to."

No, Shepard's not the man I remember at all. But why?

Then I think about Cerberus and I get angry.

The Normandy SR-2, half an hour later

I lean against Joker's chair, my omni-tool lighting up as I transmit data to his console. "Just got a fix on Anderson and Shepard," I tell him, still panting. "Here's the NavPoint. They found a radio."

"Little busy here!" Joker furiously works his console, taking the Normandy through a hair-raising manoeuvre, evading enemy fire. I stumble, almost falling over, before clambering to the co-pilot's chair and buckling myself in. "Okay, we're past the ground cannons, just need to dodge the huge red lasers of death. EDI, how're the—"

"Holding at sixty percent," the AI answers, anticipating Joker's question.

We fly over a kill zone, nothing but twisted monstrosities picking over the corpses of Alliance soldiers and civilians. Then I see it to our left: a Reaper, obliterating everything in its path. And we're headed straight for it.

"My God," I say in awed horror, touching my earpiece. "I'll try to raise them again… shit. Nothing but static."

"The Reapers are disrupting communications," EDI says. "Attempting to attenuate."

"Almost on 'em," adds Joker. "Got a large concentration of Reaper troops dead ahead. Looks like they're pinned down."

"I have them," EDI announces. "Deploying air-to-surface cannon. I have also re-established a stable comm. link."

"Atta girl." Joker hits a small panel on his console as fire and smoke fills our view. "Cavalry's here, gentlemen!"

"I'll go get them." I'm already unbuckling myself and take off into the CIC, pointing at two random bridge crew. "You and you. Come with me."

Once at the armory, we grab a firearm each and I open the external bay doors.

Immediately, we see two men in Alliance uniform sprinting toward the Normandy. "Cover them!" I yell, dropping to one knee and taking aim at the stragglers that are pursuing Shepard and Anderson.

The Normandy eases closer to the ground and when Shepard and Anderson are almost upon us, I edge closer to the bay door, one arm outstretched to catch Shepard, who's first to jump the gap.

"Welcome aboard," I say as he rights himself.

"Thanks." Shepard gestures to Anderson, who's waiting at the threshold to the ship. "Come on! What are you waiting for?"

"Need to make this quick, guys!" Joker shouts over the comm. "In case you hadn't noticed, there's a big-ass Reaper breathing down our necks!"

"I'm not going," Anderson states calmly.

"What do you mean?" exclaims Shepard, appearing agitated. "We're in this fight together, Anderson!"

"It's a fight we can't win, not without help. Talk to the Council."

"You really think they'll listen to me after I got the original Council killed?"

"Make them listen! Now go! That's an order!"

"I don't take orders from you anymore, remember?"

"Consider yourself reinstated, Commander!" Anderson's already jogging down the embankment, the covering fire from the Normandy carving him a path.

"I'll be back for you, I swear! And I'll bring every fleet I can!"

"We're going!" Joker calls. "Get your asses inside, now!"

The external bay doors start to close and Shepard can only watch his mentor and former captain grow smaller in his vision. With the doors fully closed, Shepard rests his hands against them, staring at the cold metal while I dismiss the bridge crew.

"He'll be okay," I commiserate, cautiously approaching.

"Yeah." He pushes himself away from the doors and strides across to the armory, where Lieutenant Vega's snapping thermal clips into side arms. He touches his earpiece. "Everything okay up there, Joker?"

"We're good. Uh… just checking—who's in command here? 'Cause we don't exactly have a full crew."

"Shepard's in command until we hear something official," I reply, as I'm the ranking officer on board. "He's reinstated but none of us has orders from Alliance Command yet."

"Got it," says Joker. "Where we heading?"

Shepard's looking at me, but there's nothing in his expression, and I'm not sure how to feel about that. "Get us to the Citadel, Joker," he orders. "Anderson wants us to talk to the Council, get help for the fight."

"Aye, aye, Commander."

"What?" James demands. "We're leaving? Bullshit! He wouldn't order us to leave!"

Something in Shepard's eyes changes and he stands toe-to-toe with James. "Stow it, Lieutenant," he hisses, jabbing Vega's chest with a finger. "You don't want to go—we get it—but this isn't a democracy. We're going to the Citadel. You want out, you can catch a ride back from there."

James backs down but he's indignant and fired-up. Shepard's angry and I can hazard a guess as to why.

He didn't have the upbringing most of us did; in fact I'd hesitate to call it an upbringing at all. He doesn't know who his father was and he never mentions his mother. Anderson's the closest thing he ever had to a father, and I felt his pain when the bay doors closed. Anderson could already be dead. I see that in his eyes.

And maybe, just maybe, he's pissed because the Reapers are finally here and all of a sudden everyone's looking to Shepard to snap his fingers and make everything better, after years of ignoring him? Hell, maybe it's because I'm aboard, I outrank him and I just very generously gave him command of his own ship? Maybe Shepard and James just don't get along?

Maybe it's something I don't know about, or a combination of all those things?

A dark thought enters my head and I don't like it. What exactly did Cerberus do to Shepard in that lab, where he was at their mercy for two years? Did they brainwash him? Is he under their control? Is he on drugs that keep him alive, drugs that make him aggressive, that cause long-term damage to his mind?

And if Shepard really did renounce Cerberus as all reports indicate? Did they implant some kind of control chip or kill switch in him?

It's not that I don't trust him. I want to believe that he's the same man, but Cerberus? They spent a lot of money bringing him back. It stands to reason that they'd have some kind of insurance policy.

But I want to believe that Shepard's still Shepard. I want that more than anything.

I raise a hand to my brow, internally rebuking myself for thinking too much. My brain's cooking, all right, but I doubt Shepard would see the funny side this time. He must have passed Alliance health checks to be declared fit for duty but this was an emergency. Did something slip them by?

"Admiral Hackett on the QEC for you, Commander," EDI announces.

Shepard quickly walks to a monitor. "Patch him through."

Mars Archives (Liara's POV)

Lieutenant Vega's covering the exits so now it's just me, Shepard and Kaidan. Shepard took point as usual, with Kaidan flanking whichever side's exposed. I'm bringing up the rear, although I was not instructed to do so. Both men are very quiet, especially since Kaidan started asking about Cerberus's presence here—something Shepard took exception to, although he refrained from outright hostility. Unfortunately, his answers don't seem to have completely satisfied Kaidan. If anything, they've only served to make him more anxious.

I've long suspected that their relationship was more complicated than that of CO and subordinate, or even that of friends. Ever since I made a very incompetent pass at Shepard all that time ago—only to be told that it was nothing personal, but he isn't attracted to women—I've wondered about them.

In Kaidan's case it's always been obvious, but only to me, I think. I'm fairly certain no one else noticed the way he used to look at Shepard sometimes back on the SR-1. I always knew how much Kaidan worried about him and that's apparent even now, three years later. Shepard's concentrating on nothing but what's in front of his nose, but Kaidan's distracted, his gaze moving here and there, but eventually settling back on Shepard. Just for a moment.

And Shepard? It's always difficult to tell. He's not an easy man to read and he can be different people depending on the circumstances. In situations such as these he's focused, grimly efficient, calculating and brutal with those who threaten the mission or his squad mates. During rare moments of down time, however, he can be found in the Mess, entertaining his crew with wild stories, delivered with his famous dry wit. At least he used to.

Despite his ability to play a crowd, though, Shepard has few close friends, and chooses them with great care. On the SR-1, one of those friends was Kaidan, his 'shoulder' as Shepard had called him. They'd shared many deep, serious conversations at Kaidan's station, and Shepard almost always took him along on missions. They were as close as brothers, maybe closer.

Then Horizon happened. I heard all about it through my contacts. By the time Shepard found me on Ilium, Garrus Vakarian had stepped into the vacant spot of Shepard's Closest Friend and Advisor. And there he's remained, even during Shepard's incarceration.

As for me, I'm not really sure where I stand with Shepard.

I never felt completely at ease on the SR-1, although he couldn't be blamed for that. At the time, the SR-1 was a symbol of something that not everyone wanted. Although co-developed by the turians, only one turian was on board, along with a handful of other 'aliens', and I found the all-human crew strange to say the least. Not that they were anything but polite to me, but that was only because Shepard had ordered them to be.

I had a hand in my mother's death on Noveria, but it was Shepard who ended her life. Then, I protested against the destruction of the Rachni Queen, but Shepard and Wrex had already made their minds up, and I watched helplessly as an entire race was made extinct with a push of a button. I was outraged by that, but to Shepard and Wrex it was the only viable choice.

I was a small fish in a very large pond, but when I acquired the Shadow Broker's base something inside me changed. But I wasn't simply driven by a need for power, by a need to show everyone else I wasn't just some simpering, socially-awkward scientist, I'm sure of that.

Aren't I? Well, maybe I just needed to grow up.

Shepard instantly latched onto that, though, and commented on how different I already was when I assumed the defeated yahg's mantle. We've drifted out of touch since then, and all contact was severed upon his incarceration, but I kept tabs on him and knew exactly where he was. What I don't know is whether or not we're still friends.

Grown-up—that's what we are now, all of us. I long ago moved on from my childish crush on Shepard and the Terminus Systems changed us both forever, but the newly-appointed major is still Kaidan Alenko beneath it all. Perhaps a little more of a presence, perhaps a little less inclined to blend into the background, but the heart of the man is too pure—his morals and principles too deeply embedded—for anything to touch them, hence his gently insistent questioning of Shepard. The man just has to know, but Shepard has never welcomed anyone or anything trying to get inside his head.

Which makes me wonder about them all the more. Will they renew their once-close bond, or did Shepard's death, and his time with Cerberus, irrevocably alter that?

"Found something, Commander."

Shepard walks through to the next room where Kaidan's examining the dead body of a Cerberus soldier. I watch with vague disinterest as I'm still monitoring Cerberus channels.

"What have you got?"

"Might be able to use his helmet communicator." Kaidan touches a small panel on the man's helmet and pulls away his visor, revealing a horrific sight. As I rise from my chair, both men recoil, taking a step back. "My God… he looks like a husk."

Shepard crouches next to the unfortunate soldier, closely scrutinising his ruined face. "Not quite. But they've definitely done something to him."

"And by 'they' you mean Cerberus? They did this to their own man? Shepard, that could have been you!"

Shepard rises to his full height and gives Kaidan a warning look. "How can you compare me to that thing? Do I look like a husk?" He points at his own face. "Do I?"

"I don't know what you are, not since Cerberus got their hands on you." Kaidan turns away and leans on a nearby railing, closing his eyes, seeming to regret his words, or at least that they needed to be said by him.

"It doesn't matter what I say, does it? No amount of talking will convince you."

Kaidan sighs before turning back to Shepard. "Probably not. I just need to know whether the man I would have followed to hell and back—"

"I'm still me, Kaidan."

"But are you? How would you even know if they did something to you?"

A fierce frown takes Shepard's features and an impatient sigh rushes out of him. "Like what? If you've got something to say, say it."

"Okay." Kaidan points at the Cerberus soldier. "You think he was aware that he'd been altered?"

"I don't know, Kaidan. Cerberus is part of my past. I don't know what they're doing here, what they did to him, and no, I don't know how they brought me back or what they did to me. You think I haven't thought about all that?" He takes a couple of steps closer to Kaidan, clearly struggling to stay composed. "But I do know I'm not him. I'm me. Period. We used to be friends. I shouldn't have to keep—"

He stops himself, shakes his head, and re-examines the Cerberus soldier.

Kaidan turns away again, staring at an indeterminate point in the distance.

I pretend to concentrate on the terminal I'm seated at, but my work is finished. The men's voices were calm, but the yawning silence that follows their brief conversation conveys years of hurt, accusation, mistrust and betrayal on both sides.

Shepard remains quiet while he relieves the soldier of his communicator, his tone guarded when he finally speaks. "Let's see what Cerberus is up to. Maybe then you'll get some answers."

I creep out of the small office to join them as Shepard begins speaking into the communicator, not giving Kaidan a chance to reply, which I'm somewhat relieved about.

That was the last conversation they had before Kaidan was critically injured by the Cerberus mech.

The Normandy, later that day, en-route to Palaven (Shepard's POV)

Back in the day when Anderson was in command, Kaidan and I used to take it in turns to sit in the cockpit with Joker. He didn't need us there, but it was somewhere we could work without feeling like everyone's eyes were on us, kind of a refuge.

Then I was given command of the Normandy and that level of familiarity with the crew was no longer something I could indulge in.

Sometimes, though, I just think to hell with it—like today—so here I am.

Only it's not the refuge it used to be, because just about everyone and his dog has pinged me while I've been here, but I'm feeling unusually nostalgic today. Plus, Joker's incessant chatter and banter with EDI's a good way to keep my mind off of things I don't want to think about.

"Think they'll be able to fix Kaidan up?" Joker asks. "That mech really messed him up, huh?"

Well, so much for that.

"Commander?"

"Hm? Oh… I dunno. He's alive. That's something." I feel tired as I speak, that it's an effort just to get the words out. Not like I'm out of shape or anything—spending six months with Vega at my side saw to that. I'm in the best shape of my career, but it's been a hell of a day.

I think about him again, what we said to each other, how I felt physically sick when that thing smashed him against the side of the shuttle. The moment I thought I'd lost one of my closest friends. At least… he used to be.

Joker, say something. Anything.

"Best care on the Citadel, right?" He watches me for a second. "Heard he was grilling you pretty hard on Mars."

I groan, sinking back into the chair. "Scuttlebutt's fast these days. Cerberus upgrade, like the seats?"

The self-proclaimed Best Pilot in the Universe allows a faint smile to grace his lips. "Must be. We could have the old Alliance scuttlebutt reinstalled if you want."

"What, the one that had me romantically linked with just about anything with a heartbeat? I'll pass."

"So Cerberus did two good things for us! Who knew?"

"Jeff, I would remind you—"

"Right! Sorry, EDI. Three things. Thank you, Mister Illusive, now take the hint and go throw yourself into the nearest quasar."

"Somehow, Joker, I doubt it'll be that easy." I bring up a screen of incoming communications to the Normandy, the fourth time I've done so in the past half hour. "Anderson checked in yet?"

"Ask Traynor. She just stepped back into the CIC."

"Who?"

"You know? The twitchy British comm. specialist? You met her earlier?"

"I did?" I stifle a yawn. "Met so many new people today I've lost track." I haul myself out of the chair and clap Joker on the shoulder before heading for the CIC.

"Commander!" Traynor—I remember her now—stands to attention as I approach. "Do you need anything?"

I walk to her station and lean against it. "We heard from Admiral Anderson yet?"

"Afraid not, Commander. You'll be the first to know when we do."

I nod, blowing out a breath. "Okay. Anything I need to be aware of?"

"Not much, only that Doctor T'Soni has requested a couple more techs to assist in setting up her office." I frown, confused, and she pauses for a second. "I... hope you don't mind, but I sent them along. We can spare them, and I didn't want to trouble you with trivialities such as that. If I've done wrong, then I—"

"Office? What office?"

Traynor's mouth works, and she clears her throat nervously. "She's sort of claimed the XO quarters. She's brought in a lot of tech which she assured me will be vital in the efforts against the Reapers. I, uh, didn't actually know about it until she requested the assistance, which wasn't very long ago."

"She what?" Okay. Now I'm irritated. I head for the elevator, leaving Traynor behind, wringing her hands.

But at least I've got something else to think about.

Once on the Crew Deck, I arrive at the door to the XO quarters to find it remotely locked. Having to request entry to an empty room on my own ship does nothing to quell my impatience. I wait. After fifteen seconds or so the door opens and I step inside, finding a sea of monitors and a drone in my face, which I swat aside.

"Liara, what is all this?"

She's standing with her back to me, entering information onto a datapad. She replies, but doesn't turn around first.

"I salvaged as much as I could from the Shadow Broker's ship. There wasn't room for everything but I've had to make do."

I wait a beat, thinking how it would be normal for her—for anyone—to turn around and at least acknowledge me as an important component of this discussion. She doesn't. I'm now edging into pissed-off territory but I keep a lid on it the best I can. "How about I rephrase that. What I meant to say was, what's it doing here and who gave you permission? Because I know I didn't."

She places the datapad down and finally turns to face me. "There was nowhere else for it to go," she answers defensively.

I cross my arms, my jaw tightening. "This is the XO quarters. I am officially in command of the Normandy now, and would have appreciated a heads-up. No… I would have expected one."

"Do you even have an XO?" she asks, drifting to a nearby terminal.

"Excuse me?"

"You won't have had enough time to appoint one yet," she says, not incorrectly, but that's beside the point. "Until you do, this is the ideal space to set up in. It wasn't being used."

"Liara." I move to her side, preventing her from checking a neighbouring terminal. "We've known each other a long time but let's get one thing clear. This is an Alliance frigate and space is at a premium. We now have a full crew. You can't just requisition yourself a room here. I want this stuff gone."

"This 'stuff', as you so dismissively call it, is here to help you!" she protests.

"And I appreciate that, but it can't stay here. This room is for my XO, when one's appointed, and for VIPs. You think I should tell Primarch Fedorian he needs to hot-bunk with the rest of the crew?"

She turns fully to me, hands on hips and, not for the first time, I'm struck by the difference between Liara now and Liara of three years ago. "So where do you propose I move it to?"

I think for a minute. "You can have the Life Support room and the space behind it, but don't obstruct any of the interfaces."

"But that room is half the size of this one!"

"It'll have to suffice," I say, no longer hiding my annoyance. "If you'd asked me about this before we picked up the crew, as you should have, I might have been able to accommodate you. But this ship is at capacity." I glance around the room, the brightness of the monitors hurting my eyes. "It can stay here for now, but at changeover in the morning it's gone. All of it."

I'm already leaving, her taut "Understood, Commander," following me out.

I move to the kitchen, make myself an unappetising-looking sandwich and grab a bottle of juice before heading for the elevator. "My cabin, EDI." I touch my earpiece. "Traynor, Liara will be moving to Life Support at changeover. I'm hitting the hay for a couple of hours. Let me know if anything else comes up or if Anderson checks in."

"Copy all, Commander. Sleep well."

"Thanks. Joker? Hit me up when we're an hour out from Palaven. And get some rest yourself. Got a feeling we'll be in demand real soon."

"Aye, aye, sir. Hey, one thing before you go? I'm setting up a poker league like we had before. You in? We won't have Cerberus versus Alliance versus Weird Aliens this time, so we'll need to come up with something else. It was gonna be me and Cortez against the jarheads, but there's only two of us and four of you guys already."

I step out of the elevator and into my cabin. "All right, I'm in. I'll leave the teams to you. Shepard out."

"Okay, but I'm on yours! Joker out."

I manage a smile but it makes my scars ache. I look around the cabin, which feels even bigger and emptier than usual, so I move to my terminal and sit down. My face drops.

Picture of me, Alenko, Williams and Anderson—taken three years ago on the Citadel—sitting on my desk. I'd almost forgotten about it. Didn't even look at it most days at Alliance HQ, but today…

I turn it face-down.

I open my emails, take a bite of the sandwich and compose a new message:

To: Doctor Michel, Huerta Memorial Hospital

From: Commander Shepard, SSV Normandy

Subject: Major Alenko

Requesting an update.

-Shepard.

I check the message and, before sending it, add 'Thanks' to the end.

I then log on to the extranet and idly scan a few sites, checking my inbox every couple of minutes, and then every thirty seconds. After a while I abandon any pretence of surfing the web and stare hard at the email screen, my fingers drumming against the desk. It's already been fifteen minutes. I know the docs are busy, but I just want a few words. I'm expected to jump when something comes up, so why can't they?

Okay, that's unfair. And selfish. But seriously. Answer me now.

Just when I'm starting to get annoyed—even though I know I'm being an impatient asshole—my inbox beeps. I open the new email, unconsciously drawing a deep breath.

Hello, Commander Shepard. I hope you are well. Currently there is no change in Major Alenko's condition, although he remains stable, which is encouraging.

Now that I have your email address, I will be sure to let you know if there is any news. In the meantime, please do not hesitate to contact me for anything else.

Take care out there.

-Dr. Chloe Michel.

I read the message a few times, lingering on the words stable and encouraging before responding with a quick 'Thank you'. It was decent of her to reply so quickly.

I read the email again and stand up, leaving the sandwich and juice, and kick off my boots before lying on the bed.

I roll onto my back, hands tucked beneath my head, and stare up at the reinforced glass ceiling, knowing I won't be able to sleep.

"Lights out."

All I can do now is think. About Mars, about Horizon, about Earth.

About everything.