Author's Note: I do not own Mass Effect or any of their intellectual property. This is for shits and giggles. I'm not Bioware or EA.

April 17, 2188- RnR Motels Unit 7- New York City, Earth

I stared into the mirror. It was uncomfortable. The man who stared back at me was a stranger. A long, angry scar ran horizontally across my face, just below my eyes. Shrapnel. April 18, 2181. That was a bad day. Lots of blood shed on my part, lots of swearing on Garrus's part, and lots of tears shed on Liara's part. But the scar wasn't what was bothering me. Soldiers get hurt. It was what was just above it. The large swathes of discolored flesh on my chest and stomach, the vicious remnant of a close encounter with a batarian's blade on my right bicep, the small gift Kai Leng gave me on Thessia-just above my left knee; all of it was insignificant compared to that one red eye. It wasn't completely red, just the iris; but compared to the deep blue of its counterpart it might as well be. The worst part was I knew I wasn't the only one bothered by it. It irked Liara too, even if she wouldn't admit it. The cybernetics that at one point repaired me seemed to be ironically degrading me. Everything that I was, is it still there? These were questions that I had been asking myself since my resurrection, questions that I had pushed to the side as hell descended on the galaxy. But now I would finally begin to face them head on. Starting today I had a new mission.

It was strange. As much as I had looked forward to this day, I had dreaded it. A year ago today the Crucible had fired. With that, the Citadel, the Geth, and of course, the Reapers were destroyed. And now, to celebrate the first anniversary of "Victory Day", they were holding a ceremony to honor me. The day would also serve as my retirement ceremony. And there again is the heart of my problem. The last year had been filled with a lot of excitement. The long recovery process of me and the galaxy at large began immediately, and was still underway. The Relay network took about six months of labor to fix, along with some truly astonishing feats of Quarian and Salarian engineering. The project itself was actually headed by Tali- after she married Garrus not two days after the war of course. I hadn't really had time to truly look in the mirror until now. The rebuilding of the infrastructure of the galaxy was still inching along and was being estimated at about thirty years of effort to return to its pre-war condition. Strangely enough the technical magic of the relay network didn't slow the engineers- it was the sheer amount of destruction of common buildings, ships, and power grids. As for myself, most of my burns and bruises were healed, and after battling some minor infections and receiving some surgical procedures; my health was almost back. I still have a small limp in my left leg, but even that was fading with the time. I hadn't really had time yet to begin my life.

But now I was Retiring! Me! Commander Shepard! The Butcher of Torfan, the First Human Spectre, The Savior of the Citadel, the Bane of the Collectors, the Galactic Redeemer! I've been a soldier since I turned eighteen! And now, after twenty years of service, I'm standing here, looking in the mirror, counting the physical and mental toll of it all. Every last scar, nightmare, limp, and red-eye staring at me in the face. A toll that I didn't mind paying when I was a soldier, but now I'm worried I won't be able to pay it as a civilian. No more gunfights, ship battles, explosions to distract me- instead I'll be watching vids, raising little blue children, maybe throwing a Christmas party or two. I don't look like that guy. I certainly don't feel like that guy, no matter how much I want to. I-

A faint tapping on the bathroom door broke my train of thought. "Shepard, are you okay? Can I come in?" The voice was unmistakable. Sweet and understated, with more confidence than it had when I first heard it, yet always a little modest. And right now, a little worried.

"Of course," I replied easily. To my left the door swung open, revealing an Asari maiden. About a foot shorter than I was, with blue orbs for eyes. She wore an amethyst-colored gown that accented her curves very nicely. She always possessed generous curves, but the effect was intensifying by the day. A baby on board will do that.

"You look handsome," she said lightly, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind, and resting her head on my back.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes, a small grin etching itself across my face. She loved my dress blues, about as much as she knew I hated them. They were uncomfortable and stuffy and annoying and a plethora of other adjectives; yet she always said they made me look handsome. "Hm, flatterer," I teased back, spinning in her embrace so I could face her, even though I had to almost look straight down to see her face. I wrapped her up in my own arms and planted a kiss on her crest.

"That's my line," she replied with mock outrage. I laughed, feeling better than I did just before. I felt her push lightly out of my embrace as she stepped back. "How do I look?" She asked, to my joy with actual uncertainty. It was one of the reasons I initially fell for her. The effect of someone so innocent while the world fell apart was… intoxicating, and I was beyond happy that some of that survived the destruction.

"Liara T'Soni, now and always, you look amazing," I answered seriously. I honestly thought she looked great after the battle with the Thorian on Feros- and she was covered in plant bile. It's all about perspective I supposed.

Satisfied, she closed the gap once again and stood on her tip-toes, planting a small kiss on my cheek. The gesture was small, but the effect was enormous. An inferno blazed from the point of contact, and for the moment quite literally burned away the doubts that were festering in my gut. No matter how I look, no matter how many dead souls stood on my shoulders; for her, I'd bear the weight –as long as I could.

"Flatterer," she said simply before falling back on her feet. I knew what was coming next, of course. She did it obsessively last time I wore my dress blues. Her hands began working across my left breast, adjusting and straightening the medals and ribbons. Much to what I suspected was her joy, there were a lot of them. Medals of Honor, Valor, Courage. A Purple heart, a Turian Supercluster, a Salarian Dagger. Ribbons for achievements ranging from completed missions, to confirmed kills, to successful humanitarian relief efforts. I was… a very good soldier.

"You know there aren't going to be anyone there checking to see if my ribbons are straight, right?" I asked her casually.

"Shush," she replied simply, continuing her work meticulously. I held up my watch behind her head, and saw that we had five minutes until we were supposed to be at the Banquet Hall… in Vancouver. I decided I didn't care about punctuality at that moment and merely watched as she moved to my right breast, which was pretty much bare, save for a single row of ribbons and the large golden Systems Alliance logo. To my surprise, however, she didn't fuss over the ribbons. Instead, she procured two small pins from her purse. One was a gold "N7" logo, and the other was a golden Spectre insignia. They had to be custom made, because the Alliance and Council didn't issue anything like them. In fact, it was Alliance regulation to not wear specialist indicators of any kind on your dree blues. Only your rank and medals.

"I don't believe those are standard issue bling, Hon," I pointed out lightly as she fastened them right above the row of medals , and to the left of the Alliance logo.

"There is nothing standard-issue about you John Victor Shepard," she countered softly, at last standing back, and offering me her hand. "Ready?"

I thought back on everything I've done. The scars, nightmares, death, and doubt. About the questionable calls, genocide, and failures. But also of the friends found, people saved, and loves discovered. Really, there was only one answer.

"Let's go."

April 17, 2188- Systems Alliance HQ, Banquet Hall- Vancouver, Earth

The taxi slowed and landed on a small platform outside the newly built Alliance HQ, the old one of course getting wiped out in the war. For whatever reason this new building was just as dull as its predecessor, I supposed the Alliance was fond of metallic grey. Liara and I stepped out of the skycar and were immediately greeted by a small contingent of Alliance soldiers. Unlike me, they were all dressed in actual military gear, not some stuffy suit-and armed to the teeth. They paused in front of us, and all of them snapped off into sharp salutes at my appearance.

"Commander Shepard! It's an honor Sir!" Their leader, a small female Lieutenant greeted me formerly. She was about Liara's size, with long brown hair tied into a very military tight bun. There was no disguising the awe in her voice, and I think she may have heard it herself, if the red forming around her cheeks were any indicator.

I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes. I didn't like the hero-worship, I never did. Despite what Garrus may think of me and my "big head", I never liked to place myself above my subordinates. A policy that made me many friends over my career, and a few bureaucratic enemies…strangely enough.

"Please, it's just Shepard, Lieutenant…?" I let the question hang.

Taking the cue, she answered eagerly, "Dianne Cassidy, Mr. Shepard! I'm here to lead you and Ms. T'Soni to the ballroom."

I nodded my head at the expected answer. "Then lead on Ms. Cassidy," I replied happily, wrapping my arm around Liara's. But Cassidy didn't move.

She shifted her feet uncomfortably, and rubbed the back of her neck, looking thoroughly distressed. "Uh, well, actually Sir, I have a message from Admiral Hackett," she said hesitantly.

I merely raised my eyebrows in response, waiting for her to continue.

"Well, uh, the Admiral said that you wished for Ms. T'Soni to stand with you for the ceremony?" She asked, a small amount of disapproval ringing in her voice.

I frowned. I've always been an outstanding judge of character. It was a trait that I thought was essential to any aspiring leader, and one that I had spent a long time cultivating. It wasn't an exact science, but it was a game I was really good at. Tone shifts, facial twitches, posturing- I could read them all like a book. If you had a tell, I would find it.

She disapproves, but doesn't want me to know. Liara standing with me breaks at least six different regulations. So it could be that she is a stickler for the rules. Or, perhaps she doesn't like that I'm emotionally involved with an alien. Either way, this woman isn't someone I would want on my ship.

"Yes, that is correct," I replied, my voice frosty. I suspected the latter, unfortunately for this woman. The idealism of Cerberus and Terra Firma were fringe beliefs at this point- but they still remained nonetheless. Bigotry had always disgusted me, and it had been something I worked hard against in my career. I had been actually very successful…Crazy what Lovecraftian-doomsday events does to the social perceptions of a galaxy. Still, it was a fight I never expected to win. I noticed that Liara looked at me in surprise, clearly thrown off by my change in tone. I paid her no attention for now, glaring at the young Lieutenant instead who blanched under the scrutiny.

"I-uh, meant no offense Sir! I was just told to inform you that our security force can't guarantee her safety while she is up on the stage," she replied quickly, looking rather shocked herself at the change in the air of the room.

I looked for anything in her face. Unfortunately all I saw was fear and confusion.

Hm, perhaps I was wrong. Maybe she is just a stickler for the rules…The problem with playing a game for so long, is sometimes you find you're the only one still playing.

Bigots were dangerous to have around. They were radical, and their judgement could be clouded, especially if they were in a position where they would be watching over my wife. People who followed protocol to the letter were simply limited.

I sighed, deciding that the woman wasn't dangerous- and remembering some saying about assumptions. "Sorry Lieutenant, I'm just a little on edge- nerves I guess," I replied. I could still feel Liara's eyes boring into the side of my head. She knew me well enough to know that that had nothing to do with nerves.

The Lieutenant gave me a quizzical look before replying. "It's fine Sir. If… you don't mind me saying, it seems a little odd that you are afraid of a little retirement party."

I couldn't help but snort in amusement. On the one hand I agreed with her; I knew all my fears were completely baseless and rather tame considering I was fighting death incarnate just a year ago. On the other hand, I couldn't shake this... feeling. I've been like this for months now. Chasing at shadows, only to find out it's just me. Shaking my head and telling myself it was probably some latent form of PTSD mixed with my belief that I couldn't retire and live a normal life; I glanced over to Liara at last, this was her decision after all. She was the one who originally brought up the idea of her standing with me.

"Liara, do you still want to-," I began before she cut me off.

"Yes," she replied in such a way that left no room for argument. I wasn't surprised by her answer, but I definitely was hoping for a change of heart. Ever since I sent her away on Normandy during the battle of Earth, she'd been determined to not let me leave her behind again. I didn't mind this attitude, but I wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of putting her and my daughter in any unnecessary danger.

Sighing in resignation, I turned back to the Lieutenant and took Liara's hand in mine as I did. "You heard the lady. She wants a front row seat for this one," I said, smiling as Liara gave my hand a thankful squeeze. I had to start putting this paranoia and fear behind me, and this was as good a place to start as any.

"As you wish Shepard, if you follow me we can lead you and Ms. T'Soni to the ballroom, everyone's waiting on us," she replied, turning to lead us down the ramp.

"What was that about? Are you okay?" Liara whispered quietly as well walked behind the phalanx of soldiers, being sure to keep her voice low as to not be over heard.

I looked over to her, and immediately felt bad. Her eyes were wide with worry, her face drawn into a small frown. The second time today you've scared her, and for what? Worrying about things in your head? No one is in danger. You CAN be a normal person. And the only thing that stands in your way is yourself.

"Don't worry about it Love, it's nothing." I replied in my own whisper. She gave me that look. The one that said I don't believe you or that bullshit you're trying to sell me. To which I added, "I promise, I'm fine."

To my surprise the ceremony began as soon as we got inside. I didn't get a chance to greet anyone before aides corralled Liara and I onto the stage. The Ballroom was beautiful. The room itself was circular with tall cathedral ceilings, from which flags of every nation of Earth draped down in a circle- all of them surrounding a single Systems Alliance banner that was suspended from the middle of the room. Just below the ceiling there were large windows ringing the entire amphitheater, allowing the advantage of natural light for events held here during the day. The stage itself was positioned in the back of the room, and was fairly plain except for the single podium in the middle. To the left of the stage there was a large court-bench with five seats, and would no doubt be the location of the Alliance Admiralty Assembly. This assembly was simply composed of the admirals of each fleet, and was of course led by Admiral Hackett himself. After the war Hackett reduced the number of Fleets from eight to six, and made each fleet larger instead. His reasoning was never explained to me, but I could guess his motive. Heavy losses had probably left most of the fleets non-functional after the Battle for Earth, and six larger fleets were more threatening anyway than eight small ones. The loss in tactical maneuvering was of course real, but since the war the Alliance had dropped into a much more defensive stance, using the six fleets to defend a few key relays, and of course the Sol System. Again, this left the Traverse and Terminus colonies largely unprotected, but the Terminus systems was involved in a brutal civil war and piracy in the Traverse had plummeted over the last year. Whether the fleet distribution would continue as fleet numbers slowly grew back to their pre-war numbers I couldn't guess.

However, at that time Hackett's seat was vacant. Instead he stood at the podium, and was clearly going to be directly involved with this ceremony. I gave him a respectful nod as one of the small aides was jabbering on, telling me and Liara where to stand and the procedures and what not. I had no interest in such things, although Liara seemed enthralled.

The graying Admiral saw and returned the gesture with a smile. Admiral Steven Hackett was many things, but as long as I had known him he was never a man who smiled. I shook my head in wonder before returning my attention to the Admiralty. The cynic inside my head told me it was a poor tactical decision to have them all in one place. Nonetheless I found I recognized almost all of them.

The First Fleet was headed by Admiral Ines Lindholm. A tall, wiry man with paste for skin and flames for hair. I knew him only by reputation. He was fairly young, considered to be a loose-cannon, and was by far the most liberal Admiral in terms of enforcing regulations. If his totally against-regulation beard was any indicator, that policy extended from his troops all the way to himself. By reputation I respected him the most besides Hackett and my Mother. Our command-styles were similar, and his results during the war were mostly positive.

To his left, rather surprisingly was the now Admiral Boris Mikhailovich. I knew he was promoted after the battle with Sovereign at the Citadel, but back then he was a part of the Fifth Fleet. Apparently Hackett decided he was the man for the job of rebuilding the annihilated Second Fleet and had transferred him. For once I couldn't have disagreed with him more. Protocol was that man's blood, and the "box" was his house- and he would never leave it.

Nitesh Singh led the Third Fleet. Short, stocky, and of Indian decent- the man was a tactical genius and had a long, spotless record. He was the antithesis of Lindholm, and was highly respected by his peers, if not his subordinates. Charisma was something he lacked, however, and thus the nickname "Cyborg Singh" had followed him throughout his career. I liked Singh, however. Not personally, but I found him to be an excellent tactician- certainly the brightest of the Admirals. Some people were personable, and some weren't. For him the latter worked just fine.

Finally, that last spot was filled by someone I didn't recognize at all. A young woman, no older than thirty, with platinum blonde hair tied into a tight bun. Her dress blues were noticeably less bursting with awards than her colleagues, and her eyes were a cold green.

Young, relatively green, and… an Admiral? That's… interesting.

"What are you looking at?" Liara's voice interrupted my thoughts.

"That Admiral over there. She's awfully young and I don't recognize her," I said quietly. I noticed the aid was gone, and everyone was beginning to take their seats below. Instead of chairs the room utilized benches for whatever reason.

Liara followed my gaze to the Fourth Fleet Admiral, and her face lit up. "Oh, that's Admiral Josephine Drescher. She's the daughter of Kastanie Drescher," she replied in a whisper.

Oh!

I instantly recognized the name of the former Second Fleet Admiral, and former war hero. I also remembered what happened to the second fleet when the Reapers arrived. All the puzzle pieces were falling into place.

Inherited an Admiralty huh? That's very un-Hackett-like to promote someone based on lineage. We either are running dangerously low on Admirals or that girl has to be every bit of her mother.

Finally, next to Drescher sat a very recognizable face. Shorter than me but taller than Liara; platinum blonde hair that appeared to be finally graying, and a grin on her face that was almost sickeningly smug. Hannah Shepard. Where Hackett was the stabilizing force of the admiralty my mother was the radical. Always quick to respond with overwhelming force, her main strategy focused on mostly- "I have a gun, it's large, and I WILL use it." While we hadn't always seen eye-to-eye, I loved my mother. After the war we both recovered on medical stretchers next to each other- it was alphabetical. In a rather strange turn of events, she was able to meet all of my friends while getting her bandages changed.

Anyway, that same day my mother had also found out Liara and I were involved. Her exact words were: "You better not be fucking that girl without being married first. I'm able to work past the whole undead cyborg-thing but that would be over the line- I don't care how many galaxies you save." She made Grunt look tactful, although everyone got a good laugh out of that- besides Liara who simply changed colors rather dramatically to a deep purple.

Grunt and Wrex told Liara I came from good breeding stock after that.

I smiled at my mother and gave her a wave which she returned happily, still looking smug. It was the same look she had at my high school graduation, and my N school graduation. She liked to brag, and my successes were her favorite subject- besides her own. She also waved at Liara, who also returned it happily. Despite their initially rocky start, I was now pretty sure the two of them were plotting against me. There are only so many times a man can watch his wife and mother exchange years of embarrassing material without coming to that conclusion.

I noticed the room had gone quiet. Everyone had finished shuffling about below and was in their seats. Looking out on the crowd the use of benches was made clear immediately. The large frames of Urdnot Wrex and Urdnot Grunt were easily distinguishable from everyone else, and the idea of them trying to fit into human chairs was laughable. I smiled and gave them a wave, which Grunt returned enthusiastically, but Wrex just looked bored with the whole situation. It was hard to keep his attention without guns.

The rest of my friends were easy to find as well. Many of them were as distinctive as two krogan apparently. Jack and Miranda were towards the back. "Cheerleader", "Fuck", and "Boy scout" were easily heard, despite the distance. Jacob Taylor was sitting with Brynn Cole not too far away from them, their son Johnny was drawing annoyed glances to them. The crying infant apparently could not be consoled, despite his parent's insistence.

Joker sat with Doctor Chakwas, Samantha Traynor, Engineer Adams, and even Kelly Chambers. The four of them were involved in some excited conversation, and looked happy. While Traynor was usually peppy, Chambers had been battling severe PTSD and depression for months, as was Dr. Chakwas-albeit more quietly. But they both looked happier than they had in a while, Kelly benefiting from counseling ironically from what I'd heard; and Chakwas from her relationship with Adams, who was always her rock. Not to mention Karin was also enjoying her new job, one that was far away from a war zone- for once. Joker himself had been dealing with depression for the last year. He was really attached to EDI… he actually blamed me at first for her death. The fact that he was here tonight warmed my heart, although I doubted he totally forgave me, or that we could ever truly be friends again. It was hard, I considered him family, just like the rest of my team. Hopefully those feeling would eventually pass.

The one man standing in the room was Zaeed Massani, who appeared to be cleaning his fingernails with a large combat knife. He was unsurprisingly in his full armor, and much to my own amusement was gathering the same fearful glances as the two Krogan battle masters.

I noticed Kasumi Goto was apparently absent. I didn't bother looking too hard for her; I knew she was there somewhere.

Kolyat Krios was sitting next to Samara and Steven Cortez. They were engaged in a polite, quiet conversation. The only reason I noticed them at all was he was the only Drell in the room. However, a male human who was sitting right next to Samara clearly noticed her. His mouth was agape as he stared at the Justicar's chest. I had to stifle a laugh as a female human next to him-presumably his date, elbowed him hard in the gut.

James Vega and Kaidan Alenko sat fairly close to the front. They were a strange pair. Kaidan looked distraught as Vega, with his feet up on the bench in front of him and laughing away, appeared to be throwing…raisins at some turian who was sitting in the front row. Where he got them I couldn't guess.

It was only funnier when I looked closer at the turian and saw a blue eyepiece over his left eye and the familiar young Quarian draped under his right arm.

"James looks like he is having fun," Liara murmured softly.

I opened my mouth to reply but was interrupted by Hackett clearing his throat over the loudspeaker. The crowd was immediately quiet and still, even Vega and Jacob's baby were instantly showing the Admiral absolute respect. I turned my full attention to him as well, just as he began to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome," his voice was dry, and subdued. His hands were folded up on the small podium, his head bowed. "A year ago today we found salvation in defeat, light in the dark, and friendship in our rivals; a true victory against all odds," he began quietly, still not looking up at the crowd, who were nonetheless hanging onto his every word. "The Reaper War has left us with a cost like no other war before it, however. We could honor an individual we lost every day from now until the end of time- and never get through the list," he continued with a little more power. I noticed the Admirals were all giving him their fullest attention as well-except one individual. Admiral Drescher looked bored, and seemed to be more interested in the clock than the Admiral.

"But thanks to many spectacular individuals, we at least get the chance to pay that debt of honor," Hackett continued, and to my surprise turned and looked directly at me before finishing. "But none more spectacular than our guest today, Commander Shepard, please step forward."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and offered my arm to Liara, putting Drescher out of mind. I was surprised this was moving so quickly, usually these speeches lasted at least ten minutes. Then again, that wasn't Hackett's style. Liara's eyes were glowing with tears as she took my arm with a grateful smile. Together we walked over to Hackett, and I couldn't help but feel a little excited. He never told me what to expect when he scheduled this event, just that I would be recognized for my career before I retired.

We stopped about a meter away from him, and he greeted us with a formal salute. I knew how these things worked, and dropped Liara's arm to match the greeting.

"Commander John Victor Shepard, I have to say that the Admiralty and I were faced with quite the dilemma when deciding what your award should be. There isn't much precedence for saving the galaxy multiple times, not to mention you are one of our most decorated officers regardless," Hackett continued far less formally and loud enough so that everyone could hear him.

I grinned. "Sir, I don't need any award for doing my job," I replied lightly. I knew he wasn't really interested in my opinion on this particular matter, but it was true. Besides, it wasn't like the Reapers were going to just leave me be if I just sat on my hands. I did what I had to, what anyone would've done in my position.

He chuckled, clearly reading my mind. "Perhaps, but that's not the conclusion we came to," he replied lightly before turning back to podium to address the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, in light of his unparalleled history of service, character, and honor that knows no boundaries, The Systems Alliance, Asari Republics, Salarian Union, and Turian Hierarchy would like to commission to Commander Shepard the first ever cross-species recognition of military excellence," he said, a hint of pride in his voice as he reached under the podium and retrieved a small black box. To my surprise, several other faces I recognized walked out onto the stage.

Primarch Adrien Victus, Councilor Tevos, and-much to my disgust, Dalatrass Linron. They were all wearing formal clothes, and looked fairly happy- well, Linron didn't look unhappy anyway. I took a moment to greet all of them, shaking the hands of Victus and Tevos and Linron. My happiness in seeing them descended in that order. Still, I was honored that they were even here, and the significance of that didn't go above my head.

"Commander, without further ado, I'm proud to present to you the first ever Shepard Medallion of Heroism, congratulations. I can honestly say that you are more than deserving of this honor," Hackett said, opening the box revealing the medal. It was large, clearly designed to go around my neck, and gold. I bit back a laugh when I saw the shape, It was the Normandy-flying off to who knows where. It's trail wrapping about it forming a perfect circle.

I felt my chest swell with pride as I stepped forward and lowered my head, allowing Hackett to drape the medal over my head. With that, the crowd erupted into applause.

I tried to smile…but something wasn't right, it wasn't working... The chaos in the room didn't match the disorder in my head. Thoughts were slowing, like they were moving through mud. Whatever this was, it was hitting me fast… The light seemed to refract, and dissonance began to settle in my mind.

I-uh. Wait… no this isn't right. Think… think. I willed myself. It didn't work.

I noticed Hackett had moved aside from the podium, and was indicating that I take his place.

A speech, they want me to give a speech… I- I can do- what was I doing?

I shook my head, trying to bring order to my world which was now spinning out of control. There was murmuring in the crowd below, they clearly were beginning to sense a problem as well. Hackett approached me, and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Shepard, are you okay?" He asked, his face drawn into a concerned scowl.

"I-, argh!" I yelled, a spike of pain smacked me in the base of my skull. My left knee buckled, and suddenly I was being held up by the Admiral, and…Primarch Victus? I think…

"Shepard!" I heard Liara scream from behind me. Years of military training, drilled into my head like a second nature, kept spurring one word forward through the haze. Poison. Poison. Poison. I tried to form the word, but nothing came, my lips floundered like fish. How was I even poisoned…? I- wait… I'm still missing something…

"Call a medic!" Hackett ordered sternly to someone… I didn't care. I pulled myself to my feet, despite someone telling me to relax. My instincts told me that whatever this was, it wasn't going to kill me… which meant that there was something else going on… I was just MISSING it!

I whirled around, trying to see. The admiralty was murmuring amongst themselves-except for Drescher who just stared at me. My mother was standing up, her face drawn into a concerned scowl. The crowd was mulling about uneasily, Liara's eyes were wide with fear…I saw it.

A red dot. All the dignitaries in the room, the opportunity that was currently standing around as if lost, and the dot was currently resting on Liara's stomach. Why her I had no idea. Admirals, foreign and domestic leaders, all in one room; but the dot was on her stomach. No one else had noticed, and my blood ran cold, time was ticking away...running out. I tried calling on my biotics… a barrier, that's what I needed!

Nothing, just a dull pain at the base of my skull. Poison…

I made my decision, really, it was an easy one. There was only one thing to do. I lunged toward Liara, a quick shove, gunshot, screams, and pain- as everything fell to shadow.

Author's Note: So here's the deal- any of my previous projects are being put on hold so I can write this. I'm sorry for those of you who were expecting an update, hopefully at some point I'll get back to them. As for this project, any writing that looks like this is an author's, or the setting of a scene. Any time I change perspective or setting- there will be one of those fancy horizontal line things. I also feel the need to note that Destruction isn't my ending of choice, but for the purpose of this piece I will love it dearly. Anyway, I hope you all loved the Prologue, the next few chapters are already in the factory! Updates will probably be random, so stay vigilant! Thanks Guys! Please R&R, it's my fuel.