Shoker. Because there isn't enough of it out there.

Pre Mass Effect and beyond

WARNINGS: LANGUAGE, LEMONS, VIOLENCE, ADULT SITUATIONS.

I OWN NO COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL.

Also this is unbeta'd so any mistakes are my own.

The doctor had asked him to wait outside of her office while she spoke to his parents in private. That was never a good sign. Years of being hauled to quacks all over the galaxy who claimed some breakthrough treatment-results guaranteed!-until they saw his mountain of medical files...

"To hell with this," he grumbled an hefted himself to his feet. The bubbly secretary half stood to stop him, but he waved her away, "Tell my parents I'll be waiting in the car for them."

He ignored the dubious look the braces on his legs earned him as pushed his way out of the building and out onto the cold New York city street. At first he did begin shuffling in the direction of the skycar park, but-as always-his legs had other plans. Instead of doing as he told the doctor's assistant, he slowly walked down the block and was swallowed up by the mob of pedestrians who were going about their day. Everyone was oblivious to the fragile young man who was hiding in their midst.

After an hour or so of aimless wandering, the shill drove him to seek shelter at a tram stop. On a whim, he swiped his generic boarding pass over the sensor then found a train and an almost clean seat to collapse into.

He rode for hours, just watching the scenery flit by, and kept his hood up so that his frustrated tears didn't draw attention.

"Hey Nitro, look what I found," a burly, pale skinned thug cackled as he flopped down in the seat across from the young man, "A cripple on our train with nowhere to run."

Another guy, even uglier and more odorous than the first, sat beside his friend, "You do know there's a fee for cripples who ride our train?"

His mouth was moving before his brain could abort the action, "Please tell me it isn't mandatory make up lessons. I see what a bang up job you and your girlfriend have done on each other so no thanks. Your mom could probably use the help though, if she looks anything like you."

Accepting his fate as the air exploded with expletives, he closed his eyes and waited for the blow-and inevitable crunch of shattering bones that would accompany it-but it never came. There were several thumps and a sound that reminded him of a squealing pig, then something warm clasped his shoulder, making him jump as he opened his eyes and looked around.

"Can you walk?" the question came from yet another teenage boy, this one seemingly only a year or two older than himself, with long black hair that obscured his vibrant blue eyes.

The boy's throat suddenly felt too dry to speak, so he nodded in reply. Gentle yet firm hands grasped his arms and aided him up, then guided him from the car and on to the platform. He assumed his rescuer would then disappear into the crowd, but the other lad kept a hand on him as they made their way out of the station and onto the dingy streets.

"Where are you taking me?" he finally prodded when he finally remembered how to speak properly.

"Someplace safe to lay low for a while. Nitro and Noz may be bumbling idiots but the leader of the gang they belong to isn't and he will not be happy I meddled in his goons fun again."

Images of his parents flickered in his mind but he thrust them away for the time being. When they paused at a busy intersection though, he extended a hand, "I'm Jeff. Thanks for saving my ass back there. Not used to the hospitality of New York I guess."

The other teen smiled and took the offered hand, "I'm Mal. Some people call me the Shepard."

That didn't sound good. "Please tell me you're not the leader of some wacko religious cult or something because I'm not a big fan of chanting, speaking in tongues, or funny tasting kool-aid."

Mal laughed and the sound caused something warm to bloom in his chest as he followed the dark haired boy across the street. "Not lately. Or ever really. People started calling me the Shepard when I began earning a reputation for taking in strays-like yourself-and helping them find a better path that didn't involve professions in crime."

"But I'm..." Jeff's argument died on his tongue. He technically was lost. Didn't matter that he knew exactly where his parents were staying. This wasn't about not being able to find his way in a strange city on a planet he'd never been to. He was truly and completely lost. His disease has effected every aspect of his existence up until this point. He risked a glimpse at the other boy and felt the odd warmth fill him again. It wasn't going to rule him any more. "Thanks Mal. Not many people would have the cajones to stick their neck out for a guy like me."

Mal led them down an alley and stopped to unlock a rusted metal gate before he answered, "I never turn down a challenge or a good story. You look like you could give me both. First we'll get inside where it's warm, then you can start on the second one."

"Why the second?"

The boy flashed another smile and gestured him inside, "Because it will help me determine how difficult the first part is going to be."