((Disclaimer: Mass Effect™ is the property of Bioware™. This short fiction borrows on and slightly alters their creation, and I do not claim any ownership of the creative and intellectual properties of the setting and characters.

I originally wrote this story for a contest on deviantArt so Kate Shepard is efleck's Commander Shepard.))

"I thought they were sending humans up the conduit," Tali whispers near my ear as we skirt and evade another group of cannibals devouring their own; a charging brute hell bent on an advancing force from Aralakh company. "Not sending their own forces back up."

I nodded with trepidation, trying not to focus on the wavering outline of her shielded form in my periphery: It was like trying to focus on a heat mirage and made me damned nauseous. Instead I let my eyes dart from our destination to the surrounding pandemonium of this lurid nightmare around us. "Might be reinforcements going back in if Kaidan and the others are raising enough hell," I replied, sotto voice or at least its equivalent among barbaric shrieks, heavy fire and battle cries.

"Might be," Garrus started only to interrupt himself with an alert snarl, "Crap! Ravenger, watch it-"

We moved, darting obstacles that barely registered beyond being something-in-my-goddamned-way. With a shriek a rachni soldier threw itself on its twisted, reaper-despoiled counterpart, the Ravenger's volley of fire going erratic as swarmer's burst from within it, wet and squelching.

"We need a distraction!" Shouting as I ran, I pressed the communications bud just behind my ear, hoping Major Coats might be able to rally up something to draw attention away from conduit. The krogan and rachni push [this war made strange, strange allies] was helping, but whatever was happening in the Citadel was apparently deemed worthy enough to continue syphoning Reaper troops back up that fucking beam.

Commander, do you read?

It was Liara's voice, not the Major, but I wasn't about to argue… and her voice was more soothing anyway.

"We need to help the krogan and rachni draw forces away from the conduit!"

"Spirits, would you look at that!" Garrus's voice was shocked but also – strangely – excited, much the same way he tended to get when he pulled off some ridiculously difficult shot or found a new shiny gun. Momentarily diverted, my gaze swiveled and immediately caught the object of his awe and delight: A krogan charging into the midst of the fray atop the back of a massive rachni brood warrior.

"Crazy bosh'tets! They're insane!"

"Insane… but you can't doubt their panache!"

"Alright, you two," I called them to order as we continued to move, and then spoke up again. "Liara, do you read-"

The deafening sound of a low flying craft roared over our heads, sending us splayed to the prone in muck, slaughter and jagged rubble. Garrus cut off an instinctive howl of pain with a deep, troubling growl and I started to low-crawl towards his hazy outline while my head turned to trace the vehicle, dreading the appearance of smaller reaper air support. Instead I made out the sleek, deceptively simple lines of an asari drop shuttle.

"What the fuck?"

That little present my father gave me, remember?Responded Liara over the comm and she sounded damned satisfied with herself. Liar's voice in my ear, I watched as asari commandos started leaping from the shuttle and throwing themselves into the fray with a fantastic display of biotic might that boggled the mind.

"When this is done, remind me to buy Aethyta a drink!"

Goddess be with you, Kate.

My grimy fingers touched on Garrus's armor, apparently on a bad spot because he hissed between his teeth and I could feel rather than see him jerk. "Can you get up?" My voice broke a little on the question, a feeling close to panic rising in my chest.

"Fuck. Yes," he grunted each word explosively, obviously gritting back aching pain, but pushing himself to his feet atop the treacherous terrain.

"If we're going to take advantage of Hells Angels over there we've got to go!"

"I've got this side, Shepard," Tali spoke up, flanking Garrus on his left while I lingered close at his right.

The hair-rising screams of aptly named banshees pierced the night, the sound sharper than the throbbing light of the ongoing firefight. Despite myself I shuddered and heard Tali utter something either curse or prayer. "C'mon," I ordered, ready to haul Garrus if need be. I was thankful beyond words when he started to run on his own. What I could catch of his erratic breathing spoke volumes of the acute pain he must be in. "Run!"

100 yards, give or take, never felt longer in my life.

As one the three of us stuttered in our gait, an instinctive desire to flee away from the strange, incandescent beam of what I could only assume was some kind of sustained biotic field. Flashes of my recent dreadful face off with reaper indoctrination flickered in my mind's eye and I could feel my bottom clench, the primal flattening of a tail evolution had long ago stripped away from human beings en utero. It was almost instantaneous, barely a moment, before I heard Garrus thunder "NOW!" in my ear. Then he bull rushed Tali and I along with him, straight into the alien beam.

Weightless, nauseating vertigo assailed us.

I think I screamed. Possibly it was Tali. Perhaps it was all three of us.

My ears popped sorely at the rapid ascents shift in pressure; acidic bile rose in my throat; any sense of equilibrium shot to hell.

Mercifully, the torture of the transition – transportation – was brief. It was downright jarring in its brevity. I was aware of Tali gasping and Garrus's sounds of stifled pain before my mind registered the stinging, jolting impact of my body against unrelenting metal flooring. A detached part of my brain observed with dismay that the sickening crack was probably my cheek bone fracturing.

I'll admit it: For one wretched, gutless moment I kept my eyes scrunched closed. I dreaded to open them and find myself in the red-glow charnel house from my waking dream; worse still than the abomination of the Collector ship.

"Kate?" Garrus's voice was edged with alarm.

[Strong enough to love. Hard enough to fight.]

I forced my eyes open, forced my head up to take in our immediate situation. "I'm good," I croaked.

"Let's not do that again."

"Keelah, please," Tali agreed shakily. Our cloaking shields were defunct now and I was able to glance at them from the corner of my vision while I tried to place our location. All around us was unspeakable foulness, not so very far off from my mindfuck visions. At least the lightening was a normal spectrum, though it flickered in and out erratically with a slight strobe effect that made me grimace. No heaps of dead bodies, though there were cadavers strewn here and there. No lone keeper tending amidst the carnage with macabre calm. Clearly this area was used for transit and evidently those coming and going where bloody and broken or decrepit and twisted. But outside of that it seemed to be an auxiliary hallway, one of the many back passages that connect various levels of the Wards and grants access from the Wards to the Presidium.

I realized I was clenching my Argus in my hands, white-knuckled; every fiber of me ready for what I was sure was going to be immediate, vicious confrontation. But the hall was relatively quiet, the din of combat and yelling distant enough to be muted. Tali was up, but [my stomach took a dive to the vicinity of my knees] I realized Garrus wasn't. Scrambling over to him I reached for his arm. He immediately shuddered with panting breaths, mandibles flexing and pointed teeth visible in his pain.

"Shoulder," he grated, tight voiced, the words coming in gasps, "it's dislocated." And then, with a sharp indignation tightening the reverb of his words, "what the hell are you laughing at?"

I wouldn't have called it laughter, myself, more like a nervous, broken titter released along with the loosening of anxiety and tension inside of me. "Sorry, sorry," gathering my wits about me I rose up on me knees, the armor plates there cracked and uncomfortable, and started to deal with the assorted straps and closures that held together the greaves and plates covering his arm. "It was relief: A dislocated shoulder we can deal with."

No matter the medical advancements of spacefaring civilizations such as ours there was still no end to the battle wounds that couldn't be fixed by a quick application of medi-gel.

"She's got a point," Tali said, moving to help me wrest armor away.

"Yes, but it's still – ow! – my damned shoulder – careful! – we're about to jam back – nnrg – into socket!"

"Come on, Garrus, don't you trust us?"

"Right now, Tali…. Ugh… spirits, I think I might be sick…"

"You know," I joined, "you didn't bitch half this much when you were injured on Omega…"

"Only because… aaaaaugh," a particularly curdling sound broke his staggered, breathy words. Tali and I were doing our best to move the arm as little as possible, but battlefield triage was no place for gentle coddling. I hardened myself against the hurt of causing someone pain in order to help them [bad at the best of times, worse under stress and stims and working on someone you love] and removed the last piece of gear. My eyes caught and held Tali's over Garrus's exposed shoulder where Tali ripped fabric away, tearing away from the obviously warped anatomy of an arm out of socket. We had to act fast and we had to keep him talking.

"Yeah, Omega was a little worse for you," I continued while Tali activated her omni-tool. Yes, Creator Tali'Zorah, a geth voice spoke and Tali fired back, "Give me a musculoskeletal diagram of an intact turian shoulder, left quarter." Affirmative, Creator Tali'Zorah.

"Fantastic," groaned Garrus, "I'm in the hands of a quarian, a human and a disembodied geth."

"Well," I grunted, helping him sit up at a better angle. "Christ you're heavy, Vakarian."

"Who's bitching now?"

"Shut up. Like I was saying: Tali's an engineer…"

"…I'm not a derelict ship for her to tinker on!"

"And," I continued, ignoring him. Frankly, little of my attention was truly on the conversation at hand. I was engaged in a tight-rope walk between focusing on what I was about to do… and patently trying not to dwell on the same. "I happen to be pretty damned familiar with turian anatomy now."

"Wrong person putting the wrong thing in the wrong hole."

Tali sniggered with surprised laughter at Garrus's quick, growly retort. Immediately she coughed self-consciously and spoke again, "Here it is, Shepard."

I looked up at the diagram displayed in three dimensional holographic form, squinting slightly as I tried to spot anything vastly different from how a human shoulder works. Garrus moaned again, whether in pain or from apprehension of my five-second crash course on turian joint structure was anyone's guess.

"Alright, Tali, hold him still." I clenched my molars and let my hands slip, barely touching his arm, one hand finding his elbow, the other slipped under at the lower forearm. The feel of shimmering bone-plates and tough hide seemed cool and clammy to my touch, but maybe that was just my own physiological reaction, humanizing the alien beneath my hands. "On three, OK?"

Tali nodded sharply, getting into position and Garrus sucked in his breath, sharp teeth grating. From the corner of my eyes I saw Tali hand him something. I was momentarily confused until I realized she was giving him her sheathed bowie knife. Garrus took it with his good hand, rumbled a sound of terse gratitude, and fit it awkwardly between his teeth at an angle to compensate for his mandibles.

"Garrus," I looked his way, now, his eyes pivoting to mine. "I'm sorry 'bout this... I love you."

The hand that had just taken the knife lifted to touch my cheek, briefly. "I know," he answered around the knife. "Do it, Kate."

Willing my body to lose some of its stressed rigidity, I focused on his arm. "One," I shifted my fingers slightly and breathed out, "Two." I sucked in a full breath and felt the anticipatory tension shift in his muscles. "Three," Quickly, sharp on the heels of 'Two' before he tensed badly enough to increase the chance of breaking something. I grasped his arm firmly at elbow and forearm, lifted with a heave to achieve the proper angle and pushed, huffing with the effort.

The roar of a turian in severe, anguished pain is a terrible thing to hear.

"Keelah," Tali breathed, struggling to hold the turian somewhat steady. "Bite down, Garrus! Hurry, Shepard, please," she pleaded.

Sweat beaded along my already grimy scalp and my face ached from the crash landing on the metal floor mere minutes ago; the strain of trying to apply just the right balance of correct angle, support and force was excruciating, made worse by fighting my own hearts demand that I stop making Garrus scream. I think I cried out with effort and defiance against my own softer sensibilities, The sound mingled with his yowling misery until at last [it felt like forever – it always does, this kind of hell – but it was breaths, really; heartbeats] I felt the joint slip back into place with a juicy, squelching sound. Garrus leaned – dropped, really – forward, his head pressed against my own shoulder, the full weight of an adult, armored male turian nearly toppling me over. I was surprised to find that my hand shook when I lifted it to the back of his crest.

For a moment I think I shook all over. Or it could be that it was him. Most likely we quavered in unison.

Tali hovered close, omni-tool ever-ready, synching to his to administer medi-gel and painkillers to the site. For a time there was only that sense of pressure as he leaned on me – and I, a bit, on him. We were intertwines in a combination of joint tremors and ragged breathing. [A tiny part of my brain mused on this situations mockery of the spent qualms after a passionate bout of love making. They do say it's a fine line between ecstasy and agony, but this analogy was bordering on the grotesque.]

The shaking started to ease. "It doesn't hurt so much right now," Garrus mumbled against my collar.

"No?" My lips brushed his temple, "it will later. Swells up like a bitch, too."

"You say the sweetest things."

"You're one to talk… I think it's a good thing my translator couldn't keep up with whatever you were growling."

His amusement was weak, more strained, broken breathing than laughter, but there, "Probably a good thing, yeah." He broke off then, turning his head, the aquiline lines of his face pressed against my neck. "I love you."

"I know."

Tali cleared her throat, "Hate to break it up, you two, but I think we've got incoming."

With movements near synchronized, Garrus and I shifted, each staggering to our feet with Garrus wavering rather alarmingly for a moment. The space we'd been dumped in fill with the sounds of weapons being released from clamps at our backs; the metallic chunkiness of Tali cocking her shotgun while I slammed a new heat sink into my assault rifle with the slap of a palm. Sure enough we could hear the rapid approach of several beings, echoing along the hall ahead, through this passageway of butchery. With only the barest acknowledgement of distaste I pointed out scattered corpses, the only likely cover this place would afford and primed a biotic charge into the grenades snug at my hips. The flickering light would provide its own form of cover, but not entirely to our advantage. It was going to be just as hard to see them as it was for them to make us out.

"This is a crap place to make a stand," Garrus snapped.

"You're right. We're going to have to barrel through them first chance we get. Tali, try to distract them with your drone."

"Chiktikka's ready."

"Garrus, lay out a mine. With any luck my lift grenades can double its impact…"

The sound of unknown approach increased and we moved, each aware of our roles. Just before Garrus positioned the proximity mine, a voice cut through from several yards down. "Citadel Defense! Drop your weapons!"

"Could be a trap," my cynical partner intoned.

"Menacingly: My cannons have mowed down worse than you in the past several hours."

For a moment no one uttered a word. For my part I think I may have momentarily stopped breathing altogether. But there was no mistaking that second voice. The first had carried the high, edgy tones of a salarian but the second was undoubtedly an elcor. But for just a tick my brain absolutely refused to accept the idea of a slow-talking, slow-moving, gentle-giant-seeming elcor threatening anyone with cannons.

"Damn it," groused Garrus. "Now I'm hallucinating. Tali, how much drugs did you give me?"

"Never thought I'd see an elcor decked out for war," Garrus murmured as we walked hunched and awkward through the service ducts usually left to the dominion of keepers and Citadel duct-rats.

"Never thought I'd see krogan fighting alongside rachni," I huffed, pulling myself up an elevated juncture and turning back to help Garrus, to save him having to use the recently trashed arm.

"And here I am with a geth chattering and chirping away in my suit."

Three snorts echoed softly as we moved as quickly as these inhospitable confines would allow. "Still," Tali continued after a respite, "Looks like approving the start of the Citadel Defense Force paid off, right?"

"I had my doubts," said Garrus "But damned if they haven't put up one hell of a fight in here. What was it that elcor said to you after they told us where Vega and the others had gone off to?"

Hesitant to respond, I occupied myself with shining my flashlight at various angles, trying to get a sense of the depth of the drop ahead of us. "He said… he said he fought for the few I was able to save."

Near silence reigned once more. Briefly, Tali spoke something in the old Keelish tongue, too ancient for my translator to be of any help.

There was a an undeniably comic quality to the way elcor spoke, everyone knew that. But there'd been nothing funny or reminiscent of gentle-giants in the eyes of the elcor ambassador, bloodied and rigged up for war. I'd always found their eyes to have an equine quality before: Something wise and temperate, but spirited at the core. I knew little of their culture and had encountered few in my travels. This one: Him. His eyes had held an ancient, unspeakable vengeance, terrible and moving.

Would the elcor survive this?

Will any of us?

"How much further?" I asked Tali, as much for distraction as pragmatism.

"Not far, take a left at the next juncture and we should find a panel that'll open up into the Presidium."

"Right. OK." I kept moving, becoming increasingly aware of renewed aches blooming at my midriff and the grim knowledge that it wasn't sweat and enemy blood making exposed armor lining stick to my skin. Just beyond the edge Liara's stims gave me I could feel the slow but steady decline of the last of my reserves. [Strong enough. Hard enough.]"Pick up the pace," my words low but clipped and steely.

It wasn't long after taking that left that we began to hear more than just the echo of our footfall, different levels of labored breathing and the faint, muffled sound of distant commotion in numerous levels of the citadel. The more immediate and urgent sound of nearby conflict swelled as we double-timed it the last long feet to the panel that Tali set to work opening while Garrus and I [both broken in some way or another by this point] took cover at either side.

"Are we going to be dropping right out into the middle of all this?" Garrus asked. Some might have taken the question as a complaint, but I knew it for what it was: The turian knew his tactics and I'd known few better field strategists in my time. Besides which, dropping into the middle of an unknown battle in unfamiliar terrain – it wasn't exactly outlandish to be concerned.

"Tali?"

"Best I can tell this will open up behind the shop that hanar used to run – remember? The one who had that damned crazy AI in his back room?"

"Oh. Well," said Garrus. "Glad we took care of that four years ago."

"The fighting isn't immediately on the other side and those storage rooms are small. We'll be able to grab cover there and see what's going on. If we can avoid direct confrontation, we'll do it – we need to get to the tower."

"Right behind you."

"Yes, Shepard."

"Any chance of getting those shields back up, Tali?"

"I can try, but I think our little joy ride up here fried those out."

"Damn it."

"Sorry, Shepard," Tali apologized, finally working the panel loose, her voice dropping lower. "I'll keep…"

"It's alright, Tali. Not your fault." My attempt to sooth the quarian was earnest but preoccupied as I nudged her back so I could take point, activating my Tech armor which, thankfully, still worked. Easing down the difference from the maintenance chute to the floor of the dim backroom, I worked my way parallel to the far wall. At its end I paused, listening to the unmistakable ruckus of battle furiously coming forward. Not large scale by the sounds of it, but heated nonetheless. Facing the edge of the walls end, I backed away slightly, stepping in a steady arch as I pied the corner.

"Coming in on our 2!"

"Alright, Chiktikka, here we go!"

"Field is hot," Garrus snapped a half-moment before bullets started to shoot into the large, open shop alcove before us. "Cannibals!"

"WOO! Ahorra si los tengo, hijos de la gran PUTA!"

The distinctively human yelling jerked at my attention, "Holy shi—JAMES?"

"COME N' GET SOME, MARICONES! Papi's RIGHT here!"

And there he was, facing away from us, backing in our direction. Heavy across his shoulders in a fireman's hold was another armored form; a sight that briefly caught my heart in my throat. Who? With a free hand James hurled frag grenades at his chasers.

"Suppressive fire!"

The clarity of battle is its own rush, its own form of salvation. The world becomes simpler. Perception becomes clearer. Attention fixated. Yelling taunts and Spanish obscenities James threw more grenades, filling the weak lighting of the damaged Presidium with pupil dilating bursts of light and flame and the stench of diseased burning flesh and melting cybernetics. The sound of reaper forces wailing mindlessly against a fate that was surely better than their current reality. Between our support and James's sheer bloody tenacity and fortitude, the handfuls of cannibals and husks following him were taken out.

"Are we sure Vega isn't a krogan?" The question may have been for us but Garrus certainly called it out loudly enough to catch Jimmy Vega's attention.

"Nah, don't get me wrong," he called back, starting to walk our way, staggering and limping badly. One eye swollen shut and the better part of that sides ear all but gone. But that same devil-may-care grin crept along the edges of his mouth. "My llevos are big, man, but I don't have fou-"

We didn't see the Phantom.

Cloaked as it was how could we?

After fighting nothing but reaper troops all this time, why would we expect one?

[It would be years before I forgave myself. Did I ever forgive myself?]

The sword ripped through his armor, his back, his insides, his gut and out again. Clean through the spine, dropping him immediately to the floor. No slow, stunned descent. No cinematic meeting of the eyes as the horrible realization of what was happening to him dawned on us all. The force of all his weight collapsing drove the blade upwards, with sickening sounds of ripping flesh and shattering bone. Only the heavy armor finally stopped the blades progression.

"VEGA!"

I hurled the Cerberus bitch back with a biotic Throw. Not missing a beat, Garrus fired a charged concussive shot, combing its force with the biotic energy pummeling her through the air until she slammed down with an explosion.

"Make sure she's dead," I ordered Tali while Garrus and I ran to Vega.

"Spirits…" The turian's sharper eyes were able to absorb the situation faster than I in the dim emergency lighting and over the distance between us. Not just Vega's state, but that of the alliance soldier the marine was carrying.

I didn't ask. I didn't need to. Soon enough I was there, slipping in the blood pooling around this collapsed heap of two men. I skidded to a crooked kneel and came to a hard halt against Vega's leg. He was on his side… impossible to fall on his back with the sword still in him. The person he carried sprawled behind him; Jimmy's head on the other man's unresponsive forearm.

"Lola," blood bubbled up with Vega's words, his eyes glazed. "The Major…"

Oh god…. Oh god. My eyes dashed away from the gruesome gore of James's wound to the face of the unconscious man behind him. "Kaidan?" My voice cracked. I looked up to where Garrus was crouched near the soldier's head, two fingers at his neck. Our eyes met – that was enough. I didn't need to see how he shook his head. His eyes said enough.

"He's fine, Vega." I lied. I lied through my goddamned teeth. "You did good. We've got it from here." Dammit, Kaidan. Damn you. We never fixed things between us. We never could, not when his feelings for me were never going to be able to compensate for my decided lack thereof. One night before Ilos had meant the world to him and had meant comfort from a friend to me. One day in Horizon had shattered what trust we might ever really have again. And now this. Why? Why didn't he find somewhere else to serve? Why hadn't he stayed the hell away from the Normandy?

"Commander..." The fading quality of his voice unnerved me, coming as it did from such a bull of a man. I clasped one of his hands in mine, squeezing tight.

"I'm here, Lieutenant."

"Why the fuck for?"

I blinked, startled not just by the words, but the sudden vehemence behind them. "Excuse me?"

"They dragged off the Illusive… Man… some husks… maybe a Marauder… Javik and EDI were pursuing…" The words faded away and I thought they might damned well be his last.

"Vega?"

A sudden sucking, gurgling inhalation and then the marine junior office half jerked up to roar in my face, "GO, Lola. GO."

Garrus's hand on my shoulder squeezed, "He's right, Kate…"

"I-"

"I think the elevators to the Tower are still operational," Tali spoke up, sorrow heavy in her voice. Even from behind the mask you could hear the unmistakable hitches in breath that accompany choked back sobs.

I wished I could cry. Crying would feel better than the searing hole in my middle where my heart beat just a moment ago.

Pressing Vega's hand I forced myself up with a lurch, "Valla con dios, hermano."

The dying marine exhaled a wisp of a sound, barely capable of carrying even a modicum of gallows humor. Eyes already losing all their focus. The flow of blood from his mouth trickling away to a stop in slow, lessening spurts, as his heart gave its last weak beats. "Who's like us… Lola?"

"Damn few, James."

And they're all dead.

"Kate…"

Belatedly I realized Garrus was all but holding me up with his good arm. My eyes trailed away from Vega to Kaidan. I felt my nostrils flare and vaguely heard a strange sound of deep, primal fury that I only ambiguously recognized as emitting from my own throat. Not loud, but apparently all the more daunting for its suppressed natures because Garrus tightened his grip and Tali looked like she might back away.

"Kate?" More urgent.

I killed the sound in my throat. Funneled that ire and guilt and outrage down to the core of me where I needed its fuel the most. Then nodded, standing straighter and gently pulling my arm from Garrus's grasp. "The elevators."

I didn't look back. I didn't need to. The vision of both men would forever be burned into my memories along with all my other myriad failures.

The three of us stood tense in the elevator. Small movements here and there – checking straps, checking gear, checking each other. I noticed Tali isolating a portion of her suit at her right calf. She noticed that I could no longer quite straighten to my full height. Garrus looked just about ready to tear off heads with those sharp teeth, his glances at us torn between severe protectiveness and complete ferocity.

"Why would reaper troops drag the Illusive Man up the tower," I asked, if only to break the silence of this maddeningly long elevator ride. Tali worked at the circuits urging the damned thing faster. "Thoughts?"

Garrus shook his head, "Didn't he implant himself some kind of device that would let him control reapers – at least in close range? Maybe Vega got it wrong… In the middle of battle like that... Maybe the husks were escorting him."

"You don't really think controlling the reapers would work, do you?" The question came out sharper than I intended; acerbic.

He sniffed sardonically, undeterred by my tone. "No, I don't. Not the way the Illusive Man thinks it would, anyway. There's no doubt he's indoctrinated and that speaks volumes about his delusions. But we both know what he's capable of accomplishing when he sets his sights on a goal. For bad," he said, then paused before looking back my way, "Or good. I want to rip out those husk-eyes of his with my own claws, Kate, but his tenacity and resources brought you back from the dead, among other things."

"Even the worst of demons can occasionally do something good," Tali said, shaking her head so that the wavering light of the elevator danced prism lights along the visor of her helmet. "And even then what he calls his 'mistake' was our salvation: He kept you whole and you told him to screw himself."

The memories of the information discovered about the Lazarus project at the Cerberus station were still fresh, as fresh as the part of me that always wondered [feared and agonized over] whether I was ever truly myself anymore. Suppressing a tremor I touched a hand to my swollen cheek, wincing at the abrasions and cuts aggravated by the fractured bone beneath. Was the red glow of the Lazarus cybernetics showing through?

"The point is," Garrus continued, "even if his ideas are ultimately impossible and idiotic, we know he had those implants put in and we know Miranda's father had some success with reaper signal control, even if limited. They say there's a fine line between genius and madness – there might be something in that technology we could use to our advantage."

"When has trying to use reaper technology to our advantage ever helped us, Garrus?" I shook my head slowly, pacing a short circuit in the small quarters.

"They used reaper technology with EDI," he countered.

"We used reaper code fragments from the geth Consensus to help predict reaper logistics," Tali agreed.

"And," Garrus said, more softly now, his hand moving, the back of it brushing over my shoulder, shifting away hair matted to my neck, "it was reaper inspired tech that helped put you together again."

I jerked away like I was scalded. "And Harbinger very nearly had me for it," I hissed back, an angry, hoarse whisper that cracked at the end. This time there was no suppressing the shudder.

Tali turned from one of us to the other, clearly confused, "What do you mean?"

The elevator finally began to slow. Garrus reached for me again – slowly now, cautiously, enough so that it pained me to see and I reached for his hand, meeting him half way. I squeezed his gloved fingers with my own naked ones and then let go.

"Later," I said to Tali as the lift came to a stop. Once more I activated my Tech armor and inclined my head towards them in turn. "Take flank, I've got point."

In its normal state, the open hall of the Presidium Tower is gorgeous to behold. Sleek lines of deceptive simplicity form curving walls and whispering pathways lined with grass and trees, verdant and fragrant. In its normal state your gaze travels upwards, drawn by the artistic structures beckoning perspective, slipping past broad stairwells and fountains to the elevated platform where the Council convenes in audience. Subtle theatrics are at play even there – especially there – where the dais remains raised and also separated from the petitioning platform just below and apart from it and the balconies all around. For thousands of years asari reigned from this place, then joined by salarians; soon by turians and, most recently, by humans. I remember all too clearly when I stood here with honor to accept my place as the first human Spectre. I remember all too frustratingly all the times I stood here trying to make the Council see sense, see reason. I remember fighting Saren here and watching him blow his own brains out, only to rise up again a reaper puppet. I have seen this place in grandeur and I have seen this place in ruin.

Once again – yet again; this stupid, endless cycle – it is wrecked. Fires burn here and there, sprinkler systems dealing with the worst of it and shorting out other areas where damage has exposed wires from supposedly resistant coatings. Limbs all splintered, the trees are ravaged. Blood and viscera add to the sleek mess of the once pristine floors.

Not that I soak this all in immediately. No, there are more important matters occupying my attention: Like fully expecting to step out into another gun fight when neither I nor my squad is really in fighting shape anymore. Argus drawn, grenades primed, Tech armor casting its glow around me and Tali's drone already making that idiosyncratic buzzing… droney… sound at my left rear flank. The sight that greats us isn't one of ongoing battle, though. There are bodies: reaper abominations and corpses from all the various species that form our galaxy. There is the air – the aura – of conflict; its taste sickly cloying on the tongue and anathema to the nose. But the expanse of the Towers height is relatively silent compared to the bedlam of Earth below and the cacophony of all the assorted skirmishes happening elsewhere on the Citadel. Ambient noises murmur but seem hollow echoes within a fresh dug tomb.

This place was built to draw the eye upwards. Now is no different and there, up on the platform before the Councils dais a pageantry of a different sort – a deadlier sort – was playing itself out before us as we advanced. Garrus and Tali flanked wide, sweeping as we moved watchful of hidden enemies, allowing me to keep my focus on the three playing principle roles up ahead. The Illusive Man, seen for the first time in true flesh, was slouched on the ground, up against the railing of the platform, obviously injured and badly so. To my horror he looked much the same as I had dreamed him: So obviously undergoing transition from human to reaper-implanted atrocity. Sweat collected in already damp, hidden places and I fought back momentary panic. This was different. He was different: Less obviously distorted as he had been in Harbinger's mindfuckery. The signs were there, but subtler and even those were only exposed because of his wounds.

It looked very much like he'd been mauled. Clothing and skin alike were flayed away on most of his left arm and flank and horrible bite and tear wounds marked him in horrid splotches. Standing over him were EDI and Javik, neither in the best shape themselves. One of EDI's robotic limbs – the left – was missing entirely, torn off just below the shoulder joint. There was a gaping hole at her upper chassis that reminded me briefly [heart wrenchingly] of Legion. Javik was in better shape, at least in that his limbs were all firmly attached and there were no obvious holes. I wasn't surprised if through indomitable will alone he would keep himself alive and fighting right down to tooth and claw if ever a reaper still polluted our galaxy. Both had weapons drawn on the Illusive Man, neither taking any chances, grievously wounded though he was. Around them the tableau of this macabre production was completed by the devastated bodies of several husks, a few cannibals, marauders and a cadaverous banshee, its ghastly wails only now dying away.

At last my steady progress brought me to the edge of their stage. I shoved aside a husks body with my boot, the sights of my Argus trained on the Illusive Man, leaving my crew in my periphery. "What happened?"

"Shepard," rasped the crumpled man some few feet away. "So good of you… to join us…" Speaking wasn't easy for him, that much was clear. And I can only imagine the pain he was in, torn up and raw as he was. It was surreal, really: This enigmatic power-broker, this behemoth behind one of the most efficient, dubious, brilliant and horrific of human organizations. Here he was: reduced to his human shell and his repulsive experimentations; his hubris as ragged and exposed as flesh, muscle and bone.

I didn't answer him. I wasn't ready. Not yet. In fact I looked away after making sure four other sets of weapons remained trained on his ghastly visage. Frankly I was fighting the urge to finish him off right there.

"Javik? EDI?"

"He had the reaper forces under his control, Shepard," EDI answered, her evocative voice composed as ever. "We pursued him here when-"

"His 'slaves' turned on him," Javik cut in, rich, bass voice turning simple words into pure, seething menace. "Proving him for the fool he is."

A wheezing sound was the most the man in question could manage as an expression of humor, with a visible effort he forced his head back against the clear wall behind him, lifting it from where it had lolled against one shoulder. "Your crew… rescued me… ironic, really." Those electric-blue cybernetic eyes slide towards EDI. "My first AI creation… the rebellious Creation… come to save her Creator… in her failed 'sisters' body…"

"You are mistaken if you believe I harbor any misplaced feelings of filial affection or sense of debt towards you," the fully self-aware and unshackled AI responded coolly. "You are alive only because you may hold information of value to those I love."

In spite of this whole situation it was still a marvel to hear an AI speak in such terms and truly believe she meant – she felt – every word. Of course, she also got to the crux of the matter: This despicable man might still have information – technology – of value to us.

"Commander," Javik protested, "We cannot take the word of an indoctrinated abomination or a machine with her own agendas." He worked with EDI. He did not harm her. But he never accepted her, never trusted her. Even now she was only a bit less an enemy than the Illusive Man himself and he nearly akin in the prothean's mind to no better than a reaper. "Kill him! We must activate the Catalyst!"

"Hold on, Javik," said Garrus from my right. He stood at an angle to maintain a field of view on the lower Tower hall behind us, while Tali did the same for the upper. "He wouldn't have come here if he didn't have some idea of what the Catalyst was. We need that information."

"Fine," the prothean acknowledged grimly, letting the blistering mien of his quadruple eyes settle back on the man on the floor. "Then allow me to convince him to talk."

"No," I said, feeling my head shake minutely. God in heaven – spirits – Goddess – whatever… I was exhausted. I was more than exhausted, there were simply no words suited to describe this marrow deep fatigue. It was easier to quantify the very few places on my body that didn't hurt like hell than to try and pinpoint everything that did. But my voice was steady. "No," I repeated.

"Shepard…" Garrus dropped his voice and I didn't have to look his way to know the hesitance and pragmatism both that would be in those eyes I loved. He was by no means a cruel man, but he was never one to shy from the grim realities of life.

Ruthless calculus.

"No, Garrus." I lifted a hand, index finger pointed towards the Illusive Man. "Look at him. What more could we do to him? What do we even have time for? And what's more… he knows it."

The Illusive Man made that wheezing chortle again, superior and smug; self-assured and utterly egomaniacal. For all the world as though the idea of failure had not even an iota of existence in his reality.

I sighed, loosening my fingers from how they'd clenched into fists without my realizing. I'd never tortured another human being – another being, period – in my life. I'd never truly wanted to. Not after Mindoir. Not after so many other atrocities I'd seen. Not even when I had Gavin Archer in my custody with his own brother plugged cruelly into a machine. I've felt rage and I've wanted revenge. But never like this. Never so absolute. I noticed a crimson cast to my peripheral vision and learned that it was, indeed, possible to 'see red.'

I closed my eyes against it, turning and moving away a few steps from all of them.

"Tali, EDI – can either of you hack his omni-tool or implants?"

"I have tried, Shepard," EDI answered, "His firewalls are enforced with reaper technology more advanced than my own."

Coming from EDI I understood just how impossible a task it must be. Nevertheless, "Keep trying. Synch up with Tali. She has a geth unit uploaded into her suit. I can't think of any other trio better suited to crack open the impossible."

"Yes, Shepard," both female voices echoed.

I opened my eyes again, my vision settling on a ruined tree down below. The red haze was gone. I almost wanted it back: Being enraged was better than feeling so… heartbroken. [Was this how you saw the world right before they killed you, Hannah Shepard? Are my eyes as ancient as yours, now, Momma?

I need you right now. I need all of you. Those still here. Those left behind. Are you with me? Are you here?]

I was grasping the metal rail, leaning my weight there, my eyes fixated but unseeing. I started to slump and I could hear Garrus and the others stir with alarm. Straitening myself I held out a hand towards them, keeping them at bay.

Without turning I spoke, "Still think controlling the reapers would work, Illusive Man? Didn't seem to work so well for just a few of their lackeys." I didn't have to watch him to know my words had struck home, to know he'd defend himself. To know he'd cling single-mindedly until the end.

"A minor setback. Once I have control of the Catalyst and the Crucible I'll be able to amplify the signal enough to exert my control over them…"

I snorted. "You're fucking delusional. Listen to yourself! You're dying. Right here. Right now. No one to patch you back together again. No amount of intervention to save your sorry ass or what little might be left of your soul."

"Don't preach at me, Shepard," he mustered the strength to work heat into his winded, struggling voice. "Open your eyes! It's not about me. It's not about you. It's about harnessing this power to end this threat and advance ourselves light-years ahead in mere decades."

"Wrong!" I spun about and advanced on him, ignoring all the aches and protests, the tiredness that threatened to engulf me. I limped and I staggered, but I moved and stood over him, my face set to a grim rictus. "It's always been about you. You: the self-appointed advocate and savior of mankind. You and your playing god. You and your damned ego."

"I made the tough choices! I made the tough... the hard calls… I fought the battles I could win… and even the ones they said I couldn't," he sneered, exposed implants rendering his defiant expression all the more gruesome.

"You made choices – most of them atrocious – in the name of a people who never asked for you to call the shots," I threw back. "You told yourself it was for the good of humanity, but that was always a crock of shit and you know it. You can't praise the ingenuity and diversity of humanity while trying to clamp collars around our necks. You're no better than the reapers, wanting to decide the fate of a people for them, you blinded sonuvabitch."

A rattling, hacking cough shook his broken form, rose bubbles of blood-tinged spittle from his ruined lips. The upper left lip was torn badly enough that the teeth and gums there always showed, giving him a permanent sneer of half a skeleton. "None of you ever knew what I knew. No one would admit the truth: That humanity… that we had to… that I had to ready us… for what was coming… You don't know… you don't know anything about me…" The words were bold even in his dying, not whining, not cajoling. Stubborn until the end.

But I had to wonder: How much of it was his own natural strength of will and conviction… and how much of it was the poison taint of indoctrination warping his mind?

On a hunch – a risky play of verbal roulette – I leaned in closer, close enough to smell him, close enough to see how grated, ruined flesh and sparking cybernetics joined in a mockery of life. With a haggard breath of my own I took a knee before him –flicked a hand towards Garrus and Javik to stop their interruption – then grabbed up and twisted part of his frayed, bloodied collar.

"I know a helluva lot more than you think," I seethed. "I know you stared into the heart of madness back during the days of the Arterius brother's first madcap ventures with 'Uplifting' the turians into a higher state of being: Indoctrinated insanity. I know you took that sickness into you then, twisting it just like they did, out of fear and narrow-minded vision. Yes, Jack Harper, I know you."

My eyes held steady but I caught it: Finally. For the first time ever I saw surprise register on the Illusive Man's face. I saw him genuinely nonplussed. Mentally voicing a resounding thank you, to Liara, the most formidable of information brokers, I seized on his astonishment; pounced on it before he could once more stonewall me with tenacious pomposity. Or plan old lunacy.

"You embraced what you feared: I can't condone it, but I understand it," rocking back on my heels slightly, using my grip on his collar as leverage, pulling him closer. I couldn't be sure there was any point to it: I could only hope there was enough of Jack Harper left in him to care. "You told yourself you could use it, control it. But madness rots away at the core, it feeds on itself like a cannibalistic parasite. 'For the good of mankind' was your catch phrase, a way to assuage what remained of your conscience when ultimately what you wanted was to decide for all of us. You've become a tyrant and insane like all tyrants are, enamored of themselves and neurotic in their limited vision. What would they think now to see you, Harper?" His eyes narrowed, the grisly cut of his mouth twisting. "Ben? Eva? You tried to recreate her and even then it was to control her. That body," I jerked my chin towards EDI's direction, "was all you could summon up of the woman who was once Eva Coré, a mercenary like you."

"Enough!" Spittle and blood sprayed my face with his outraged explosion. His one good hand came up, a blind grab for my throat. Even as wounded as he was there was no doubt that once upon a time Jack Harper was a damned good soldier. But I was still in better shape than he; faster and stronger. His right hand lunged for my throat, fingers making vice-like contact; I reached up with my left arm, the back of my elbow slamming down on the inside of his respective joint while my right arm grabbed his fingers, leaving only the weakest link – his thumb – to try and grasp my throat, before I pulled down, my right elbow pressed to his throat. For a moment he tensed and I prepared to twist, a nasty way to give a man a torsion fracture at a pivotal joint.

The barrel of Javik's Particle rifle and Garrus's Argus loomed into view at the edges of my vision. Garrus gave a not-so-gentle nudge, "Give me a reason, Jack," he said, his rasping voice close to a snarl.

"Stand down," I said; an order, but calmly spoken. Shoving the Illusive Man back, I shook my head and stood. Half turning away from him, I wiped the back of a hand along my sullied brow and face, brushing away matted hair.

"You know… you play the enemy's game and it never goes well," I said, partially to him and partially to myself. God, I was fucking tired. "Because you have to sacrifice the best part of yourself to do it. But time and again – over and over – we keep making the same mistakes. Faced with opposition someone always wants to seize control 'for the greater good.' It didn't work for the protheans," I could hear Javik shift nearby, but he held his tongue. "It hasn't worked for the salarians whenever they decide to mettle with other species. It didn't work for Saren Arterius and his attempt to impose the reaper's will on us. The asari holding back vital information to the galactic community for their 'greater good' kept us ignorant despite protean attempts to warn the young species. It never worked in human history. It sure as fuck isn't working out for you now."

I coughed, brushing wetness from my lips, too exhausted to be more than mildly alarmed to see a faint, small streak of blood smear. No time for that: There's work to be done. "It's worked for the reapers so far and that's it. And even then it's only worked because we've fallen for their trap. We've taken their technology and blinded ourselves to new possibilities. We've forgotten that the chaos of diversity is one of our greatest gifts. Our alliances are difficult. Our failures often trump our victories. But countless species have struggled on their own – for better or worse – to develop, to explore, to conquer, to amend, to grow or to stifle. The canvas we weave is a mess, but it's beautiful, too. It's beautiful – and you can't see that. But maybe," I turned back to him again, my voice dropping. "Maybe you did… once. Was there ever a part of Jack Harper that truly loved his species? Or was there always only this," I jabbed a finger at him, "this tyranny and insanity at your core?"

The man who was once Jack Harper said nothing, but glared balefully my way. He panted and sweated and bled. He grew paler by the moment and it was beyond clear that we were losing him. He gritted his teeth like a gargoyle and shivered with his bodies decline. But he said nothing and I could only hope somewhere, somehow my words were fueling a struggle within him in his last moments.

The tension of the moment was cut when my earpiece released a stream of ear-piercing static. Several of us jerked. "Come in! This is Commander Shepard, do you read me? Major Coats? Liara?"

This… miral Hackett… do you read? Shepar… do… read?

"EDI, can you clean this up?"

"I'll try, Shepard."

"Say again, Admiral? Repeat!"

Shepard! A Sovereign class vessel is breaking through Shield's blockade! Have you reached citadel control?

Shit.

"Yes, sir, we have. Can you hold? I repeat, can you hold?"

Hey, Commander, you wanna hurry it up, maybe? Joker's irreverent voice broke in over the comm. And I was happy as hell to hear it, to be honest. It's getting hot over here!

"We are working as quickly as possible, Jeff," EDI interjected.

Yeah, well, the Destiny Ascension is moving in and I don't think - aw, shit… shit shit SHIT, the turian 6th Fleet is about to lose a dreadnaught. I'm going in!

"Joker! Jeff! Damn it, Flight Lieutenant, what are you-"

Sure bet these fuckers wished they had windows! C'mon baby, give 'em he-

Static pierced our comms again. My eyes wide, I swiveled to look at EDI whose robotic facial expression showed the closest approximation to horror I'd ever seen on it.

"No... Keelah, no…" Tali moaned in a whisper.

"EDI!" I lurched forward, grasping with slick hands at one intact forearm and at the shoulder of her torn off limb.

She blinked and stiffened, "Forward control undergoing heavy damage. Activating kinetic shields and environmental safe measures. Sealing bulkheads."

"What about Joker?" My voice sounded torn between sob and snarl.

The AI's voice was a whisper now, making her seem more human than ever. "Life signs are present but failing, Shepard. I must… I've alerted…"

I gripped her chassis harder, bruising my own fingers in the process. "Keep it together, EDI, we need you. Do what you can. Focus!"

"Yes, Shepard."

It would have to do. Tears mixed with sweat, stinging my eyes as I rounded once more on the near-corpse of the Illusive Man. I bellowed at him, raw and rasping. "Open your eyes! Look at what the Alliance has put together, dammit. Species are allied now that we never dreamed would work together, much less succeed in their goals. Organic and synthetic. Old enemies and new. All fighting and dying out there, together, all of our differences coming together to make us stronger on our own god damned terms. It isn't perfect but that's why it works. Because we have to want it. We have to fight for it. We have to work at it. The reapers fear it because they cannot understand it. They can't see that order is nothing without chaos to balance it. And here you are, spitting on it because you aren't calling the shots."

Pain shot up my back as I jerked down to him, grabbing his torn collar again, hauling him up and slamming him back. "If there is anything human left in you, for our sake, help us, Harper. Help. Us."

In syncopation we panted and gasped and shuddered. Muscle fatigue was winning out and my screaming arms began to drop him. "Please…" I whispered in a groan. "Please."

An arm stronger than my own clenched itself around my waste before I collapsed. [Garrus, of course. Always Garrus.] But it was the shell of Jack Harper I looked down upon with my heart in my throat and desperate rage in my belly. It seemed like a lifetime [it always does] before he moved. Then, with trembling, mauled fingers, he activated his omni-tool and entered the specific key my crew couldn't break in time. Tali was there in a seeming flash, synching her 'tool to his.

"Take it," the once Illusive Man breathed in a fading undertone that still carried notes of his anger, his struggle and pride, breaking away with what grace he could muster. "Take it and do…what I couldn't… wasn't strong enough… take… it."

"Thank you," I murmured as the man who was once Jack Harper released his last breath with what may have been the trace of a smile on ruined lips.

I cannot say if he found redemption in those last seconds.

"Now what," Garrus spoke aloud the question the rest of us where asking ourselves. He continued to support me with one arm around my waist and hip, careful of the wound at my left flank. As much as I appreciated the support [and as much as part of me wanted nothing more than to collapse against him fully] I accepted it only long enough to catch my breath and my bearings before gently but firmly disentangling myself. I had to keep upright and moving on my own right now or I'd cave entirely. Another person might have been offended, but Garrus, I knew, understood. All the same he stayed close.

"What of the Normandy…" Tali asked tentatively, looking up from her work.

"The Normandy is safe, but has sustained heavy damage," EDI answered, her voice collected once more.

"Joker?"

EDI turned her face towards Garrus, acknowledging him as she spoke. "The crew extracted him from the bridge. He is in the med-bay…" a beat of hesitance and she looked my way. "Dr. Chakwas assures me he can be stabilized." The touch of question in her voice – hints of an emotional need for reassurance – humanized her more than ever. I tried my best to nod encouragingly.

"If anyone can patch him up, Karen can. Any casualties?"

"None, Shepard. The Normandy has fallen back to a supportive position while the crew attempts emergency repairs."

"Alright," I looked from her to Tali and then Garrus. Javik did not have the attachment to the Normandy and her crew that the rest of us did. "It'll do for now. We have to… figure this out…" I moved a hand to encompass the wreckage around us then started to the edge of the dais, where years ago Saren had opened hitherto unknown controls for the Citadel. "Tali, EDI – you and the geth unit need to analyze the Illusive Man's signal manipulation, see if there's anything there we can use." With my omni-tool I scanned for and found the needed, subtle controls to initiate the opening of the ancient [and brilliantly advanced] command system.

"Cross referencing with code from the geth hub on Rannoch, Shepard-Commander." A glance back showed that Tali had brought up a small holographic representation of the geth platform synched to her suit.

EDI and Garrus joined me near the complex command consoles. A wave of dizziness washed over me but I fought it off, struggling to connect the pieces, to see where it all came together. To comprehend what aspect here would somehow become the Catalyst needed for the Crucible. They talked behind and around me, but in truth for several moments I heard only snippets, my awareness shifted, pulsing in and out. In and out.

"…Creator-Tali'Zorah, it is my analyses that these codes may be used to disrupt reaper shielding temporarily…"

"…yes, with these modifications we could hack their shields but not long enough and as many at a time as we would need."

"Shepard, I can open the Citadel arms now so Sword and Shield can escort the Crucible into place…"

"…maybe we should hold off, EDI. We still don't know what it's supposed to do: If we connect Crucible to the Citadel without understanding what the hell it does…"

"…you show unexpected caution, Garrus…"

"...mmm, like Victus said: A disregard for the rules only makes me seem reckless when I'm anything but… well, mostly…"

"…I have isolated key vectors of weakness here and here…"

"…it does us no good if we can't… damn it, show me that last holo again…"

Something nagged at my senses, but just out of my reach, just beyond the periphery. I found my scraped, lacerated, grubby hands hovered above the surface of the intricate console, feeling for… what? The voices carried on, passing ideas back and forth, accessing the best course of action. It took minutes… less than that, maybe. Until my hands glided away from the console itself, hesitating… and another hand reached for mind, a voice in my ear, clearer. Javik.

"You feel it too, Commander?" His deep, rich voice held an iota of uncharacteristic wonder. "Here, it's coming from-"

"—the pedestal." I finished the statement and in near unison we both crouched, my clarity coming back to me with a jolt of understanding. "Another VI?"

"Perhaps. Hidden away for millennia… here." He lifted his hand away from an unlocked recess of the pedestal, holding an item almost identical in its structure and appearance to the memory shard that numbered among his few personal possessions. I reached out my own hand, extending it to settle over the memory shard resting upon his palm.

"It's times like this when I almost wish I'd been zapped by a prothean beacon, too," Garrus muttered nearby. "Almost."

"Me too," said Tali, sounding closer now. "I hate being left out."

It's the last I registered. My hand made contact with the shard, only passively aware of Javik's body heat before the memories of the artifact assaulted me in the manner I can only loosely say I'd become accustomed to. It was always unsettling, jarring and more than a little invasive, this alien form of communication piercing my thoughts, intertwining with my consciousness until it was hard to tell the differentiation point between myself and another's presence. In actuality the transmission of information took seconds, but time ceased to be a measureable concept for that moment. I knew only this: A key, simple in its delivery, but staggering in its implications. At the end of it I'd have fallen flat on my ass had Javik not anticipated the disconnection and reached out roughly, his hand gripping my forearm painfully but holding me aright.

"Amazing," the prothean breathed.

For my part I wanted nothing more than to vomit and die. My pulse pounded painfully in my temples, my ears and I groaned.

"Shepard?" Three voices, one turian, one quarian, one synthetic human female, all of them alike in their concern and curiosity.

"The scientists…" I managed, then drew a deep, steadying breath and tried again. "The scientists from Ilos… they didn't stop at altering the signal the keepers followed. They had to have known something of the Crucible and the suspected elements of the catalyst… they left… they left…. Javik…" I weakly waved a hand towards the shard he held. With deft, motions – calm and collected – he stood and slid the shard into a slot just beneath the holo-display of the console. A three-dimensional diagram manifested the kind of things that probably constituted an engineer's wet dream. Thank god I just happened to have three think tanks close to hand.

"Kate," Garrus was crouched behind me, lifting me clumsily with good arm and bad, holding me erect yet again. This time it was beyond my abilities to keep from leaning on him fully, regretting the slight hiss of pain the movement elicited as I jarred his shoulder. He didn't let go.

Again my surroundings took on the hazy, wavering quality of being on the edge of losing consciousness. How much blood had I lost by now? How many broken bones, torn muscles, bruised organs? Garrus busied himself with assessing my state and I was barely cognizant of being laid out on the floor.

"…these schematics indicate reserves of dark energy – staggering amounts…"

"It makes sense: The Citadel is a giant mass relay, perhaps even the oldest, and Shepard encountered similar information about Object Rho and the Alpha relay…"

"Of course. It explains why the reapers were so set back when they lost immediate access to the Citadel after Saren and Sovereign were stopped…"

"And why it would be an ultimate goal to reclaim control of it-"

"—and keep the Crucible away from it."

"Can we apply the modified reaper code to the signal? If this is all accurate we'd be able to use the Crucible to tap into the Citadel's reserves—"

"—creating vast mass effect ley lines, capable of reaching ten times the reach and number of even the largest Relays. Yes, Creator-Tali'Zorah, my calculations concur."

"Then we need to open the Citadel arms and connect the Crucible… Commander? Shall I contact Admiral Hackett?"

Sure was nice of them to remember me.

Then again, even after another application of medi-gel and a second stim, part of me – a very small part – was kind of hoping they'd handle this one themselves.

Huffing and scowling with the effort [and pain], I sat up, with a lot of help from Garrus. "Open comms, EDI. Bring Hackett, Sanders and the other think tanks up to speed as quickly as possible."

Javik crouched near my legs, looking me over with two sets of eyes, neither of them what I would call warmly receptive. But he wasn't glaring at me, which was really a plus so far as the prothean warrior was concerned. "We should not linger here. Soon there will be reapers to take down. I wish to be among fellow soldiers."

"Oh, there'll be plenty to go around, Javik," Garrus jibbed, sounding very nearly as tired and done in as I felt. I rested my head against his good shoulder, still finding the simple act of breathing to be damned uncomfortable.

"This had better work," I said, my eyes lids feeling heavy and gritty, stims or not. "Because I'll tell you: I'm plum out of ideas."

For a moment – just an instant – I think Javik almost smiled.

"I am pleased my people saw fit to protect humanity, Commander. You are a worthy ally. Yours would have been a good addition to the Empire… the turian, perhaps, as well."

Garrus snorted, but I forced my eyes back open to look the protheans way. "I'd have to decline… I'm not a big fan of vast empires, Javik," my words barely softened by a ghost of a smile.

To my surprise, he nodded. "What you said to this Jack Harper," he looked briefly towards the human's grotesque remains, "this Illusive Man – it was true. My people learned this too late. Perhaps the humans would have taught us differently."

"Christ, Javik, you aren't going to hug me, are you?"

Again, the barest [was it even there?] shade of a possible smile touched his lips, but whatever his response was going to be was lost when the geth's voice cut in: "Shepard-Commander… Creator-Tali'Zorah. There is a complication within the activations design."

"What is it?" Tali asked, while once more I struggled – with a lot of support – to sit up.

"Here," it was EDI who answered the question, one sleek robotic finger indicating a place in the elaborate diagram that made no sense to me and certainly looked no different from the rest of the gibberish. I was by no means lacking in intellect, but multifaceted workings such as this were beyond the scope of my long training as a sentinel. "A key is required. Or, more precisely, a specific component pertinent to whoever activates the Citadel's capacity to tap into its reserves of dark energy."

"This concurs with my calculations, EDI of the Normandy."

"Alright," with Garrus and Javik's help I was back on my feet again, if tenuously so. "No need for suspense: What's the component?"

Tali turned her attention to the diagram, leaning towards it in her scrutiny. I could imagine her lovely eyes narrowed with concentration, a furrow in the lines of her brow. "Damn it, this can't be right-"

"I believe it is a precaution, but one the prothean scientists apparently felt was crucial to success."

"Anytime one of you wants to fill us in," impatience tightened Garrus's words. "We're not exactly running long on time, here."

"If EDI and the geth are right," started Tali, clearly hesitant to bring words to an idea she found either preposterous or daunting. I wasn't sure which.

"My assessments are seldom incorrect," EDI cut in, with what passed for humility from the synthetic genius. "It is, as I said, a precaution. A warning: The scientist of Ilos believed that the reapers built fail-safes for an event such as this in which an organic or non-reaper synthetic being might attempt to activate these unique properties of the Crucible. Whoever does so initially will suffer a barrage of reaper code, reaper signals. A massive attempt to hack a synthetic or indoctrinate an organic."

"Shit." Pressing the heel of a hand to my throbbing forehead, I squeezed my eyes shut. Breathe. Removing my hand I steadied my voice as much as I was able, "How do we bypass it?"

"Negative, Shepard-Commander. There are no means to bypass this units programming, not in the time required to utilize the Crucible's properties to the advantage of allied forces."

My own eyes narrowed, "There has to be a way to activate it, dammit."

"The scientists had a suggestion: It was their studied belief that whomever first accessed the control sequence must either be someone of strong will who had until now never been exposed to Reaper technology or influence..."

"Great," Garrus groaned with aggravation, knowing that ruled out everyone present.

"Or," Tali took up the telling, "Someone who was strong enough to face indoctrination already but completely resist it. Overcome it."

Of course.

"EDI, I've never encountered better anti-hacking capabilities in any other AI, surely you could…"

"It is possible, but improbable, Garrus. In a battle between technologies, superior tech always wins, it is a statistical truth. Reaper technology is more advanced than even my own. Key components of my processing were designed from reverse-engineered reaper tech, but not an improvement upon it."

"This is unacceptable," Javik's rage was a cold and unmoving thing, which generally made it all the more menacing. "There must be another way. I will do it myself if need be."

[Let me confess this: Part of me… yes, part of me wanted to let him do it. In my weakest of moments, I wanted nothing more than to let someone else sacrifice themselves to the threat of insanity's oblivion; to the obliteration of self.]

I swallowed against an obstruction in my throat. It may have been a scream trying to rise or laughter that verged on hysteria or a heated rant of absolute, unadulterated fury. A tantrum. I suspect it was nothing more or less than terror, though: unmitigated terror.

I am no stranger to fear. Fear is a companion to me: Soldiers who feel no fear are never truly brave and are probably bloody well sociopathic. Fear is my partner in the trenches; my bedfellow when I awake in cold sweat. I have faced fear in countless mirrors, under countless guises, not the least of which was dread of failure when the wellbeing of more and more people somehow managed to weigh down on my shoulders. My strength found its purchase in being able to accept that anxiety and stress acknowledge it for what it is and allow it to fuel my resolve.

Here and now it felt like fear was becoming Terror and Terror was about to win.

Garrus turned towards me: Distress mirrored in his eyes but something else, too: Faith. Loyalty. Belief. I cringed away from it, almost a physical reaction, visceral in my gut. "Please… no…" I don't think the words had weight or volume to them. They were mouthed between the two of us. I had only a moment to register looks of intrigue, surprise, and confusion before Garrus consumed my vision, standing close before me, his hands coming to cup under my jaws, smooth clawed thumbs warm and rough against my cheeks. He said nothing. I screamed for escape, for sanctuary with my eyes. And he soaked it in, attempting to offer in return the strength I was suddenly flailing for, blindly.

Tali spoke first. "What's going on? What-"

"Liara?" Garrus interrupted. And, after a moment, over the comms, a response: Yes, Garrus?

"Fill them in about what happened when we first rushed the beacon and what we verified with Vendetta."

I felt my jaw flex and grit beneath his hands, swallowing against the beast that wanted to claw its way out of me. "Don't make me do this." The words for him alone. In the background, beyond my cognizant concern, I could make out Liara's brusque explination. I could feel understanding settle around my crew, my squad, my companions and friends. The fetid air of the ruined presidium felt heavier than ever, threatening to drown.

"You were born for this, Kate." The gentle pressure of his hands tilted my chin upwards, one hand moving away to encircle my bicep, bracing me. "You were born to bring them down. I know you can do this."

Anger is a form of fears release. Anger and resentment, both of which surfaced, no matter how brief. Denial, too. I shook my head as best as his hand and my fatigue would let me, expression twisted with ire. "Does it matter that I might destroy me? Does it?"

Beryl eyes shone brighter with a wetness I'd never seen in them before. "Always. But you'd never forgive me if I gave in and told you to come with me and let everyone else burn. You'd never forgive me. I'd never forgive myself. And there's also the part about how we'd burn with them."

The last words, coated with his usual sardonic humor, managed to tweak the faintest bit of a smile from me. Even that smile faded, though and I shudder again. "I'm so tired…" Paltry, weak words that couldn't begin to adequately express what I felt. "I'm scared," once more, words mouthed rather than spoken aloud.

"You're the bravest, strongest person I know," his words were thick but even, the reverb beneath it an undoubting purr. "And I won't let them have you. I'm right behind you, Shepard. Always."

A question burned in his eyes. For a half a breath I closed mine, then opened them with an answer. The nod that followed wasn't necessary between us. His hand moved from my bicep to my hand, taking it in his, his other arm gingerly turning me, offering support at my flank. Tali stepped forward as well, to my left. "Me too, Shepard."

Not trusting in words at the moment, I merely accepted her hand in my momentarily free one. EDI and Javik came close as well, no words spoken, but their support all but tangible around me. Over the comms, Liara's voice cut in, I know you can do this, Shepard. We all do.

Another voice cut through the frequency, heavy laden with static, but still audible, if only because the voice itself was boisterously loud. Get on with it, Shepard. Urdnot can't keep doing all the hard work on our own. Time to spread the fun around. Wrex: My chapped, cracked, bloodied lips tipped up a bit to hear him alive and boastful as ever.

We kept moving forward and this time it was real. This time I wasn't alone. Tali released my hand at the console, but moved hers to my shoulder, supporting me along with Garrus. Free once more, I moved that hand forward to the glowing display.

Get it done, Marine. Hackett. We're in position.

"Understood, Admiral," finally some heat returned to my voice. Finally I felt the old, familiar spark ignite within me. "Get ready to blow these monsters to hell."

With one last drawn breath and a tightening grip on the turian hand in mine [Strong enough to love] I set my fingers forward and opened myself to hell [Hard enough to fight].

Nightmare visions engulfed me.

But I was not alone.