Annnnnd here's the first updated chapter! I didn't change too much; mostly just edited some details like the house and added some lines. The last line was too dramatic and stupid, so I added onto that, too. The fic is being crossposted to AO3, so go ahead and read it there too!

I've made a blog dedicated to my fanfiction updates/New Life updates under the url elzacharie, as I stated in chapter 5. Anyways, I'm excited to get to work again, so enjoy!

The shuttle was silent as we passed over Vancouver, my rage at being forced to move away from Chicago silently fuming in the back with me, smashed between dozens of boxes. Dad sat in the front seat with Kahlee, our nanny and my biotic trainer, intent on trying to get into the traffic over the city without crashing.

Since dad was famous for being in the military once, we got a lot of money after he retired. Many reporters tried to take pictures of him when we were leaving, chattering to their cameras about why we were moving and where we could possibly be going. I didn't understand why it mattered and didn't care— all I cared about was leaving everything I've known behind.

I had lived in Chicago for my entire life, ever since dad found me as a crying toddler on the streets and adopted me. I grew up in an old house his grandparents had owned, despite the fact we had more than enough credits to move somewhere much nicer. It was just as much my home as it was his.

The move was sudden— even Kahlee didn't know about it. Dad just told us one day to pack up our shit, that we were leaving and never coming back. I did what he said without a fuss, keeping my anger and biotics inside.

"Beautiful city," Kahlee stated in a light voice. "Don't you think so, John?"

I shrugged and grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest; I could feel my dog tags pressing against skin through my shirt.

When I was found by my dad, I was wearing two dog tags on a chain, bearing the name SHEPARD, JOHN. Dad thought it fit, so that became my name. Nothing special about it; just the name of some person who was killed as a private in the First Contact War— the only reason I still wore it was that it was like a good luck charm.

"John…" Kahlee scolded, turning back to look me in the eye. "Answer my question."

"It's fine," I mumbled. Kahlee took that as an acceptable answer and turned back to the front. After a few minutes, she began speaking again.

"I think you're going to like it at Normandy High, John. It's a great place— I went there when I was your age. They have an excellent biotic training program, not to mention an amazing football team."

Dad finally broke his silence and chuckled. "I hope you're not thinking about running off and becoming a student again, Sanders," he joked. Dad never said anyone's first name, not even mine. It took me a while to realize that my name was John, not Shepard.

"No, but I could become a teacher, if you really wanted me out of the house," Kahlee chortled, her laughter light and airy. God, it took all my power to not pop a boner right there. I had a major crush on her, no matter the age difference. I ran a hand through my shaggy hair, looking out the window as we began to descend.

Stepping out of the shuttle, my bones crackling as I moved, I examined my new home.

It was… well, it was really fucking big, to be honest. The entire house was just as old as our old house, maybe even more. The whole place looked like an old, haunted mansion, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was haunted. Behind the house were a large, empty field and a murky blue lake, visible even from here. It was flanked on both sides by newer houses that looked almost identical to each other, which made ours stand out in particular.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel some kind of connection spark between this place and I.

In a matter of hours, everything was taken from the shuttle and set up inside the house, just as night settled across the city. A few neighbors greeted us while we were moving in and offered to help, but dad said we were going to be all right and engaged in slight small talk before getting back to work. From what I picked up from their conversations, there was only one other human kid on the entire block. Whoop de-fucking doo.

Dad offered me a room in the front of the house, but I took the attic, located on the fourth floor. Despite the dust and squeaking floorboards, I fell in love with the room almost immediately after setting foot in it. Sure, it was dusty, but it was big enough to use as a workshop and train my biotics without fear of knocking something into the wall.

I was taping my old photographs to the walls when someone knocked on my door. I called for them to come in, and Kahlee entered the room with dinner. "I thought you might be hungry after the move, so I made some steak."

Smiling, I accepted the plate that held four steaks on it, sitting on my bed as I wolfed down the food. We exchanged small talk, Kahlee doing most of the talking while I just grunted. That kid on the street was mentioned again— he was some sort of biotic, it seemed. I finished my food and handed Kahlee the plate, which she took and left without a word.

I jumped under the covers, clothes still on, staring up at a picture of my best friends from Chicago. Listing their names in my head, I lulled myself into a fitful sleep.

I began school tomorrow. I could only pray that nothing spectacular would happen to me here. Okay, that was just me being dramatic, but still, it's the thought that counts, right?