AN/Obligatory Disclaimer: Mass Effect and the characters and elements therein are the property of Bioware and EA Games; any other elements or sources of pop culture referenced in this story are the property of their respective creators/owners. I make no claim to them, and am simply a humble fan using them to tell a story. Any OCs that appear in this story, however, are mine. This includes myself (i.e. my self-insert character, through whose eyes this story will be told); at least, I'm pretty sure I own myself. Probably. You can't be too careful these days (lol :-P).

Right, that's it for the standard disclaimer. On with the show!


Chapter 1: Waking Up.


Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep-

The steady rhythm of an ECG is what rouses me, begrudgingly, from my slumber, its incessant- yet familiar- bleating growing louder and louder in my head with each passing second. 'God and gods of metal, will someone shut that damn thing up?!' Wearily, I try and open my eyes, greeted by a dim light that makes it easier to accept consciousness for some reason, and the sensation of several small objects stuck to my body in various places that tug at me as I try to move.

'Owowowowowow! Fucking Ow!'

Apparently, an object is stuck in a very sensitive place on my forearm, no doubt exacerbated by my stupid tendency to move around when I sleep. 'Guess I must've done something to mess with the tubing while I was out, but it's weird that it didn't wake me up.' I clench my teeth in discomfort, a long hiss drawing between them as everything becomes instantly comprehensible with the clarity brought on by acute pain. A quick survey tells me I'm reclining on a bed in some kind of medical ward, a very futuristic one at that, if all the metal, chrome, LED lighting, and various advanced-looking devices I can't recognize at any indicating. Glancing to my left, the ECG sits cozily in a kind of wall-mount of sorts, wires feeding from it to snake under my shirt and latch onto my skin with cold efficiency, nodules attached to my arms and fingers. Looking to the right confirms my suspicions, with an IV drip imbedded in my arm, feeding something into me intravenously. Still a bit groggy, I force myself to sit up, sucking in air sharply as the motion affects the slightly tangled IV, sending a new twinge of pain lancing up my arm.

'Whe-Where the Hell am I?' I start to think before the memories come rushing back with fully realized consciousness and aided by the familiarity of my surroundings. 'That's right, some... Dimension-hopping weirdness happened while I was waiting for Fate/Stay night: UBW to load back home, and somehow, I ended up on Eletania, getting rescued by Commander Shepard and her squad. Which means that this is the med-bay on the SSV Normandy SR-1.' I can feel my eyes go wide as I realize the gravity of what's just happened to me. Just... "Holy shit."

A sudden pressurized hiss to my right grabs my attention. Turning, I promptly feel my inner fanboy flipping out in excitement at the sight of one of the biggest badasses to ever grace the universe with her presence, Commander Shepard herself. My internal HSQ (Holy Shit Quotient) Counter understandably ticks up again by one point at this because... Just... I can't even begin to articulate how I feel at this moment. 'Keep it together, Oz. Keep it together.' Appearance-wise, she looks a lot like a default Femshep: Caucasian, piercing green eyes, and fiery red hair that's cropped short, assumedly to meet with Alliance regulations. Flanking her is the stern-faced Ashley Williams, and Dr. Karin Chakwas, who smiles warmly at me for some reason.

'I guess she's relieved to see I'm doing better than when Shep' and the others first brought me onboard. Kinda reminds me of Mom for some reason in that aspect; which, I suppose is how she would see herself, given what she told Shep' in ME2.'

"Well, look who's up," Shepard says with an approving smile, Jennifer Hale's voice resounding like music in my ears as she crosses to my bed and sits next to me. I barely manage to keep my composure as she puts a reassuring hand on mine; and who could blame me? I've just had a literal brush with greatness. "How're you feeling, kid?"

It takes me a few seconds to find the words, star-struck as I am at the moment. "Not too bad, I guess. Some aches here and there, but otherwise okay." Fidgeting nervously at Shepard's touch, I wince once more as I inadvertently move the IV again. "Oh yeah, and this thing," I point at the offending object, "keeps jabbing me in the arm."

Shepard smirks in amusement at my predicament, while Chakwas simply shakes her head, giving me a few tsks as she joins the Commander by my side and gets to untangling the IV. "I should've known this might happen," she says with good-humored sarcasm as I grimace in discomfort. "You seemed like the type to toss about in your sleep from the minute Shepard and the others brought you in from the surface. The readings I got on your rapid-eye-movement while you were out only confirmed it." A couple seconds later, and the IV is now properly aligned in my vein, though the immediate area is still a bit tender. "There we go, good as new. Now then," she produces a small flashlight from one of her uniform's pockets, "let's have a look at you."

The light clicks on and spots pepper my vision almost immediately. 'Gah,' I think as I try to keep my eyes open and hold back the tears, so Chakwas can work, 'I hate fried eyeballs. Nothing's worse than... Hold the phone.' It suddenly dawns on me that something is very off with this situation. Not only is everything in the room coming in crystal clear, but there's a distinct lack of weight and tugging on my face that usually makes such a thing possible. I don't have my glasses on and yet...

"I-I can see," I manage to stammer out in disbelief. "I can see."

"Yes, by the looks of things, the treatment took rather well," Chakwas says in a professional manner before moving the light to my other eye, though I can detect a hint of satisfaction in her tone. "However, given your age, it will take at least a few more sessions of gene therapy before the stigmatism completely disappears."

Now that gets my attention. "Wait, gene therapy?" I ask somewhat incredulously, though I don't think anyone could fault me for feeling more than a little violated at this moment. "You put me though some kind of gene therapy while I was unconscious?" I dwell on this for moment before a new question nags at my mind. "Wait a minute, just how long was I out for?"

"At least two days, give or take a couple of hours," Shepard answers sympathetically. "You passed out after we got you onto the Mako, so we thought it best to get you to the med-bay as quickly as possible. And believe me, I understand about the gene therapy; no one likes the idea of being poked and prodded at against their will."

I feel my shoulders slump slightly at that; the knowledge of Shepard having to go through the same thing with Project Lazarus in the coming years making me feels a little guilty. I know I can't tell her about it, for fear it messes with the timestream and alters future events for worse rather than better, but... 'Damn it.'

A reassuring hand pulls me out of my thoughts as Shepard gives me this empathetic look and continues, "But, given that we had no idea what that...," she pauses for a second, mulling over the right words in her head, "goo, for lack of a better word, might've done to you- not to mention if you still had some of the planet's microscopic symbiotes in your lungs from before we got the rebreather on you- the procedure seemed like the best option at the time." Her tone gets a bit more serious as she adds, "And that went doubly after Chakwas' initial scans found a lack of tampering with your genetics, even the most basic mods that children are supposed to receive in utero to prevent things like allergies or serious genetic defects."

'... Oh shit.' That's right, gene therapy was legalized in the ME Universe around 2161 by the Alliance Parliament; and with the current year being 2183, if memory serves, then I should have had some genetic modification- or at the very least some cybernetic implants- if I were from this universe initially. The fact that I don't have any of that definitely has to be raising some serious red flags for Shepard and the others.

"Which," Chakwas interjects helpfully, continuing the initial conversation, "after a few more sessions, shouldn't be a problem either."

'Sweet,' I think in optimistic sarcasm, 'No more allergies for me. Take that world! Let's see Spring bring me down now.'

"Regardless, it still begs the question of who you are and what you were doing on Eletania in the first place," Ashley chimes in cautiously, I assume not wanting to say or do anything that might upset me or provoke some negative reaction. She's right to do so, after all, not knowing just what my mental state is after being stuck in that..."Ooze ball," for as long as I was, which I don't even know the answer to myself. And considering I was just pulled into what I had once known was a fictional universe by unknown forces against my will... Yeah.

"If you're up for it, we'd like to ask you some questions, see just how much you remember." Shepard looks me in the eye as she says this, I assume to give me some reassurance on top of a sense of connection, in order to gain my trust and help me be more open to talking things out. "Would that be alright?"

I give her a hesitant nod, which Shepard smiles at before glancing at Chakwas, who summons her Omni-Tool and- I assume- readies a recording feature to document our conversation. "We'll take it slow," Shepard says as she returns her attentions to me, "start with something simple and work our way up to the hard stuff. Now, can you tell me your name?"

"... Oscar," I answer sheepishly after a moment's pause in embarrassment, massaging the back of my neck anxiously. "Oscar Hyland. But, everyone just calls me "Oz," for short. It's easier to remember, and doesn't sound as corny."

Shepard chuckles softly at that, and I hear an amused snort from Ashley, who's leaning against the wall a couple paces back. Chakwas does that "motherly smile" thing again, probably because she's heard something similar from other soldiers and patients of hers in the past. My money's on Joker, even if "Jeff" isn't as embarrassing a name as mine. "It's nice to meet you, Oz," the Commander replies sincerely as she introduces herself and the others. "I'm Commander Shepard. This is Dr. Chakwas, our chief medical officer, and Ashley Williams, Gunnery Chief of the 212, Alliance Navy." Chakwas gives a nod and a smile, while Ash just waves slightly in my direction. "Welcome to the SSV Normandy."

"Thank you, ma'am," I reply sincerely- my inner fanboy once more bouncing around excitedly from the sheer fact that I'm actually here, in the ME Universe, on the SR-1.

"No need to be so formal, Oz," Shepard asserts insistently. "I usually prefer my crew call me "Shepard" most of the time." Huh, so she's a more relaxed kind of Shepard when she's not kicking ass and taking names. That's pretty cool, means I don't have to worry so much about inadvertently pissing her off or anything.

"Sorry, ma'a-Shepard," I say, managing to catch myself, "force of habit."

"It's okay, Oz, no need to apologize," Shepard reassures me, casting a glance over her shoulder at Ashley. "You're not the only one who's struggling with that." I feel myself smirk as a flustered Ashley blushes at that, fidgeting under the Commander's amused gaze. Having had her fun, Shep' continues. "Can you tell me what year it is?"

Of course I can, but then again, I can't. At least, I can't tell them without raising suspicion. I know it's currently 2183, since we're on the SR-1, but as far as they're concerned, I could've been in the orb for months, years even, and probably have some kind of amnesia. 'That might be a good direction to go right now, at least until they give me something to work with.' I shake my head dejectedly. "No, I can't. I... I don't remember."

Chakwas nods understandingly, entering something in her omni-tool; she probably marked my statement for future reference, or a later diagnosis.

"It's okay, Oz," Shepard tells me comfortingly. "It'll all come back to you in due time, best not to force it. The current year is 2183 CE, does that help any?" I shake my head, not wanting her to press the issue any further. She seems to understand, giving a nod before moving on. "Can you remember anything about Eletania, how you might've ended up there, or how you got stuck in that weird orb thing?"

'Crap,' I curse mentally, my outward expression turning to one of introspection, as if trying to remember something but drawing a blank. I should've known she'd ask this question, it was only a matter of time, but I didn't think she'd ask it so quickly. She said that they were going to take it slow, damn it! 'Okay, Oz, just calm down. You couldn't remember what year it was, so they should obviously catch on and think you can't remember anything about this either.' I try and remember something about the rescue on Eletania, something I might have overheard that could help me here. 'Garrus said something about an outpost when they pulled me out of the ooze planetside, maybe...'

Thankfully, my theory pays off and Ashley steps forward to break the silence. "Before we pulled you out of that thing down there, we found what looked like the remains of a some fairly modern structures near the ruins; probably ripped apart by a meteor shower, if the impact craters are anything to go off of. Carbon-dating puts the debris at about 18 years old, so we think it may have belonged to a company trying to set up a colony there that discovered the ruins by accident, but ran into complications and scrapped the project." Ash looks me dead in the eye, her expression hoping for a reaction as she asks, "Does the name "Delta Pavonis" ring any bells?"

'Bingo.' Just what I was hoping for, a base to start my story from. If memory serves, the Delta Pavonis Foundation was a megacorp from Earth that specialized in colonizing worlds. And given the age of the wreckage, and my lack of implants/gene mods... 'Yeah, that might work.' I hate having to lie like this, it's not in my nature, but if I want to keep them from digging too deep, this is probably the only way. 'Besides, I'm not really lying. I'm just sorta stretching the truth a bit.' I look back at the gathered faces of Shepard, Ash, and Chakwas. 'Okay, time to see if any of Mom and Dad's thespian charm rubbed off on me.'

"Ye-yeah, yeah, it does," I start warily, doing my best to make it look like the "memory" is slowly coming back to me. "Dad was a transport pilot, worked for the DPF as an independent contractor, but he always talked about signing on full time with them. He'd brought us along on expedition to Eletania, hoping to get our foot in the door and secure a spot for us on the colony. He thought that we'd have a better life there, and that the higher-ups would be impressed by his initiative and willingness to help found the colony, that they'd offer him an official contract or something." I put a hand to my head before continuing. "I remember exploring near the outpost; I'd never been offworld before, and everything on Eletania was just so... Incredible, I had to see it for myself." I darken my tone a bit, for dramatic flair, but not so much that I sound hammy, or that I'm overplaying my part. "But, then I found those weird ruins. I'd never seen anything like them before; I tried to radio the outpost, let them know what I found, but there was some kind of interference. And that's when I found the orb. The last thing I remember is touching it, and then..." I look up at them, "well, you know the rest."

A series of nods follows from the three women, silently considering my words as I sit there under their scrutinizing gaze. Well, not so much "scrutinizing" as "sympathetic," really. There's a glimmer of what looks like pity in their eyes, so maybe they bought it?

"Yeah, I guess so," Shepard replies. Behind her, Ashley relaxes a bit, apparently satisfied with my story, while Chakwas makes another note in her omni-tool. Taking care not to disrupt any of the nodes on my arm- or the IV, seeing as Chakwas had just untangled it- Shepard gives my hand an encouraging squeeze as she stands. "It's good that things are starting to come back to you, Oz. It'll take time, but I promise, you'll be back to 100% before you know it."

I smile back, nodding slightly, "Thanks Shepard."

Shepard pats me on the knee before rounding the bed to Chakwas' side, Ashley joining her shortly. "So, Doc, what's the verdict?"

"Well, he's not out of the woods yet, but I'd say his chances of recovery are high, Commander," Chakwas says as she fiddles with her omni-tool before looking at me and smiling in that soft, motherly way of hers. "You did well for your first session, Oz. It will take time, but I have no doubt that your memories will return in full sooner than you think."

"Thank you, ma'am," I say with a sincere dip of my head in the good doctor's direction. This only makes her smile more, and she pats me on the shoulder from her side of the bed.

"Don't thank me, Mr. Hyland," she insists humbly, "thank yourself. We only pointed you in the right direction, you were the one who worked with what we gave you to get as far as you did today. Even then, what you've recovered is more than most amnesia victims can recall within the first month or so of rehabilitation. Keep progressing like this, and you should make a full-recovery within the year, I'd say."

"Is that your professional opinion, ma'am?" I ask with a mischievous smirk, hoping to amuse Chakwas further. It seems to work, as she chuckles slightly at that.

"You could say that," she replies warmly. "Your progress today is a good sign for sure, and being in relatively good physical condition like you are helps bolster the prognosis." She looks at her omni-tool read-out for a moment, her demeanor slightly returning to one of professionalism.

'I hear a "but" coming on here, Doc.' My heartbeat picks up slightly, nervousness and doubt starting to seep into my thoughts.

"But...?" Shepard raises an eyebrow, sensing the same thing I am as she regards her Chief Medical Officer.

"But, he's going to have to make it somewhere besides the Normandy's med-bay, Commander," Chakwas continues matter-of-factly, fingers flying across the omni-tool's interface before turning back to me with an almost apologetic look. "I may know a few things about human psychology, Oz, but I'm no expert on the subject, much less equipped to treat this kind of retrograde amnesia. You're going to have to be treated at a dedicated medical facility, somewhere with specialists who can help speed up your recovery, and take care of you for the duration of the healing process. Obviously, the Normandy is out of the question, especially considering our current assignment."

"I understand," Shepard nods in agreement, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye before returning to Chakwas. "What's the nearest Alliance colony that has the resources needed for him to make a full recovery?"

"Well, we're nearly clear of the Hercules System," Chakwas calls up what looks like a map on her interface, but from this angle I can't really tell for certain. "If we make a slight detour in our course, we should be able to drop him off on Terra Nova in the Exodus Cluster within the week. If he hasn't fully recovered by then, they should easily be able to continue his rehabilitation from there."

Shit, I hadn't thought about this. Sure, Shepard and the others might have bought my story, but a professional psychologist and a team of medics, ones with access to state-of-the-art facilities and the power to call up Delta Pavonis records- though to be fair, I'm sure Shep' has the authority to do so herself, being a Spectre and all, but still- they're going to see right through me, and then how am I explain everything? I can't tell the truth, they'd lock me up for sure! And then, there's the whole "leaving the Normandy" thing. I don't know why the Hell I was brought here, but I do know that- in shows like Sliders or comics like Marvel's Exiles series- whenever you're sucked into an alternate universe, you're always there for a reason. And, given where I've ended up, it's a safe bet that my reason is to help Shepard and her crew somehow. I can't leave the Normandy, not until I figure out why I'm here.

Feeling someone staring at me, I look up to suddenly lock eyes with Chakwas, who seems a little worried for some reason. Only then do I realize that the ECG next to me has gotten more and more vocal, it's beeps getting more erratic as my heart races faster. Damn it, panicking like that set my vitals on edge. A sudden wash of guilt comes over me, since I didn't want to make any of them worry, especially after they've all be so good to me like they have. It's just... 'I don't know what to do.'

I flinch slightly as Chakwas moves to put a hand on my shoulder, but I manage to catch myself and relax a bit to try and assuage her concern. Still, the damage has been done, and that look of worry doesn't go away. "I think we've cut into Mr. Hyland's recovery time enough as it is, ladies," she says, motioning to the door, so that Shepard and Ashley will leave. Giving the readouts a quick glance, the ladies seem to get that the conversation hasn't done much to put me at ease about my situation, and heed the doctor's suggestion. "We can continue this discussion elsewhere," Chakwas follows her Commander and the Gunnery Chief out the door before turning to me and adding, "I know this is a lot to take in all at once, Oz. We can talk more later, once we've reached Terra Nova. Until then, just relax and rest up. We'll be around if you need us."

A quick hiss of the door closing, and once again I'm alone. Only this time, I'm awake enough to know it, and aware enough of my situation to realize I'm not out of the woods just yet. I may have established an alibi, but if I don't think of something soon, I may end up blowing my chances of accomplishing... Whatever it is I was brought here to do.

'Damn it, there has to be something I can do to convince them to let me stay here.' Exhausted, I lean back against the wall, a pillow between me and the cold steel hull of the Normandy as I try and think of something, anything, that would make them keep me around. 'But what?' And then, it hits me. 'The visions! Yeah, that's right, that stuff I saw when I touched the Memory Shard model- or at least, I thought it was a model. They're just like the visions from the Beacon on Eden Prime, the ones Shepard has in her head. And those voices, what did they say? Something about me having half "the girl's" vision "rattling about" in my grey matter... They must've mean Shepard. If that's the case, then I have half of Shepard's vision in my mind, and she has the other part of it.'

I feel a knot form in my stomach as the implications of this knowledge come to bear at the forefront of my mind. 'Then that means, if I can't convince them to let me stay on the Normandy, Shepard won't get the full story about the Reapers, only half of it. She won't be able to decipher any of Vigil's dialogue on Ilos, even if she gets the Cipher from the Thorian. And if that happens, it'll pretty much unravel the entire plot of the ME Universe from ME1 onward! We won't be ready for the Reapers, they'll blindside us, maybe even at the first battle for the Citadel against Sovereign, and if that happens, it's all over. The cycle continues, the galaxy perishes.'

"Holy shit..."

"And so, two and two are finally put together-"

"-To become one complete whole."

'Jesus wept!' I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of two voices unexpectedly appearing on either side of me in the otherwise empty med-bay, their owners appearing just as suddenly. A red-haired man dressed in futuristic attire- though their outfits are more reminiscent of the Illusive Man's style (i.e. dressed to the nines) than an Alliance grunt's uniform- steps out of the shadows to my right; a woman, practically identical to her counterpart in every way save biological sex, seems to materialize to my right. "Who-?" I begin to say before I'm cut off by the woman, who continues her conversation with the man.

"It took him long enough," remarks the woman in what I can only assume is annoyance as she glances at me somewhat derisively, as though she were looking at an ant on the sidewalk. "I was beginning to think we would have to step in and give him a little nudge. He seems the type that needs his hand held when it comes to these things, always afraid of breaking something by accident, afraid of repercussions, afraid of pain."

"Again," the man interjects, rounding my bed to stand at his counterpart's side, "you always see the negative, sister- or at the very least, always seek it out. Remember, we're old hats at this, he is not. We do not need to excuse our existence, he does. We can see all the angles, he only sees one. Yet, as he proved, one is sometimes all one needs to see things through. He managed to convince them of his story thus far, though its construction was somewhat haphazard. Given the situation, however, you cannot deny his resourcefulness. There was duress, but in the end, a cool head prevailed, and a believable alibi was skillfully fabricated, one that should hold water for the time being."

"Perhaps," the woman acknowledges begrudgingly. "But now, a new issue has arisen, one that even he will have a hard time addressing, even with that supposed silver tongue of his. He has finally come to realize the full gravity of the situation, as well as the part he must play in it, at least at this juncture. How to go about it, will be the tricky part."

"So, you're willing to admit you see the potential he has to at least attempt to make a case for his place on this ship?" The man almost sounds shocked at this, raising an eyebrow skeptically as he folds his arms over his chest. "I'm surprised at you, sister. You aren't the type who's willing to admit their mistakes."

"No mistakes were made, brother; ergo, there is nothing to admit. However," she adds as she moves to my bedside, still regarding me with those piercing eyes of hers, "as I said before, even your optimism has its limits. Though he is possessed of a crucial portion of the knowledge the girl seeks, that in-and-of-itself is not enough to warrant his place on her ship, let alone at her side in the field. While still in its youth, his physicality is somewhat lacking for one intended to charge the stage of battle alongside the hero of this piece. Of course, this will improve with time, but at this point, it is not enough to convince the girl he is worthy of fighting beside her, even with the knowledge of their connection."

My eyes widen as the woman produces a wicked-looking syringe from one of the inner pockets of her coat, removing the needle's cap so that it glistens menacingly in the dim light. Sloshing about loosely in the glass casing is an ominous red liquid, which- oddly enough- seems to be glowing somehow. "But, given the right incentive, either party would be inclined to take steps in the right direction. He to confirm his status as a victim of the same affliction, worthy of her attentions, and she to recognize an asset to her cause and a companion who shares her predicament."

The mystery man nods in agreement with his sister at this, seemingly following her train of thought that I can't even begin to comprehend. 'Just who the hell are these two? What the Hell are they talking about? And why do they sound so... familiar.'

"Indeed," the brother concurs. "It would be a shame for the Commander to lose such an opportunity."

The woman looks at me again but her expression is different this time. I can't describe it, but it's as if she's trying to make me understand something, make me realize something. "It would be a boon if the fool would realize his knowledge could benefit the situation and act on it."

Without further ceremony, she gently takes my IV bag in one hand, testing the syringe with a few depressions of the plunger. "Wait," I insist, finally finding my voice as it dawns on me just where I've heard their particular accented tones before, "you're the voices from my visions in the orb! What the Hell is all this? Just who are you two? Why did you bring me here? Why do I have half of Shepard's vision in my head? And what the Hell is that stuff?"

The woman looks at me, again, like she's looking at a cockroach, and immediately, I immediately clam up and shrink back a bit. I can't describe it; it's like looking into the eyes of eternity or something. There's nothing really different about her eyes, they look like normal human eyes but somehow, I can sense something behind them that screams "unnatural." I want to break her gaze, but somehow, I can't find the strength to do so. The closest comparison I could hope to make is when I had to read Lovecraft's "The Color Out Of Space" last semester for my Science Fiction course; I feel an overwhelming sense of dread and fear that builds and builds with each passing moment, yet I can't tear myself away from its source. My terror only deepens as the lights of the med-bay start to flicker ominously of their own accord.

"To answer the "what"...," the woman begins, nonchalantly spearing my IV bag with the needle as she speaks. "Think of it as a means to get things moving in the right direction." She hits the plunger, and the red liquid infects the fluids of the bag, spreading like a plague until it completely overtakes the clear space and begins a steady race toward my forearm. "A catalyst, if you will." Her work done, she steps back from my side to join her brother at the foot of my bed, their faces cast in terrifying shadow and light simultaneously as the flickering speeds up.

"As for the "who", well," the man joins in, finishing his sister's thought with a good-natured smirk on his face that somehow only makes him look more menacing. "That will come to you in time, I'm sure."

"That it will," the sister interjects. "After all, the brain adapts."

"It certainly does," the brother confirms approvingly. "Until that time, however, feel free to call us "R", if you so desire." The lights snap out abruptly, causing me to jump as the room is plunged into darkness. "We'll be in touch."

The very second the man finished speaking, the lights turn back on just as brightly as before, only now the room lacks two of its former occupants. I look around wildly for them, though I don't leave my bed for fear I mess up Chakwas' carefully placed nodes on my person. There's not a single trace of either "R", as though they'd simply vanished into thin air. 'Wait a minute, that's not true. The stuff she injected into my IV should still be-ARGH!'

Before I can finish my thought, a massive wave of pain rips through me, starting from my left arm and burning through the rest of my body in a fraction of a second. I scream wordlessly as every inch of my body feels as though it's caught fire. I had no idea- no idea that this kind of pain could ever exist! My vocal chords can't even produce the pitch high enough to articulate this kind of agony- it's simply impossible! Shuddering, I feel an acute stinging sensation center around my hands that stands out, and I force myself to look at them as I double over, trying my damndest to hold back the vomit building in my throat. Eyes already wide in profound discomfort, I feel they would grow even wider at the sight before them as my vision tunnels and my hands become its sole focus.

Cracks and fissures race over the flesh of my forearms and palms, breaking apart to expose gooey red muscle to the open air. What little skin remains resembles broken patches of earth, the cracks like breaks on a worn sidewalk. The once silent med-bay now fills with howling wind, bitingly cold as it brushes over the exposed muscles on my arms. It's so loud, almost like a tornado! The air snaps and pops as the wind speeds up faster and faster. A flash of green light draws my attentions away from my broken digits, only for me to reel back in shock at the sight that greets me. Glowing softly, what can only be described as the ghost of a beautiful woman floats lazily before me, giggling demurely at my predicament before blowing me a kiss, her breath misting a pale spring green before she vanishes.

With a mighty SNAP!, everything comes back into focus and I breathe for what feels like the first time in centuries.

'Wha... What, the Hell was that?' I can't even begin to wrap my head around it, cold sweat dripping off my forehead and dotting the sheets. Trembling, I raise my hands to find them unscathed once more, wiggling them and looking them over to check for cracks, thankfully finding none.

I jump slightly at the sound of the door opening again, still on edge after my bizarre experience with the R Twins and whatever it was the woman just dosed me with. Both sporting a worried look, Shepard and Chakwas rush into the room. The doctor is the first to my bedside, placing a hand on my shoulder as she calls up her omni-tool to check the steadily calming instruments hooked up to me. Shepard joins her, but gives Chakwas enough breathing room to work with, genuine concern in her eyes.

"Oz, are you alright?" Chakwas asks doing her best to sound together as she looks me over. "Your vitals spiked dramatically for a second there, we thought something might have happened."

"I'm... I'm okay, Doc," I say hesitantly, trying to assuage her fears. However, R's words come back to me for some reason.

"It would be a boon if the fool would realize his knowledge could benefit the situation and act on it."

'Maybe... Maybe she's right. If I'm really here to help Shepard in her fight against the Reapers, then I need to make her realize that she needs to keep me around.' I grip the sheets tightly, trying to find the right words to say. "At least, I think I'm okay." I look up at Shepard as I say this, hoping to make her understand our bizarre connection as I add, "I was trying to get some sleep, but then, I saw these weird images, so intense... They were the same ones I saw before you pulled me out of that thing on Eletania. I could only make out brief flashes, but they were enough put a few things together. There were these... Giant machines, almost like starships; huge and black, with burning red eyes. And there were screams." I look Shepard square in the face as I say this, putting on as serious a tone as I can muster. "Lots of screams."

Chakwas and Shepard share a look at that, their expressions confirming that they're both thinking the same thing: "Reapers." Yes! They got the message! Hopefully, this will be enough to convince Shepard to keep me around, at least for a little while, and hopefully long enough for me to prove that I can be a valuable member of the Normandy's ground team. Something gets their attention back to me, and whatever it is causes them to blanche in shock.

"Oz," Shepard begins warily, as though trying to find the right words to say that won't alarm me. "I know you're still recovering, but... Do you remember being, "special," before you were stuck in the orb on Eletania? Having special talents that no one else in your family had before you?"

I quirk an eyebrow at that, unsure what she's trying to insinuate. Before I can answer her, a soft green glow draws my gaze to my lap, and I can feel my jaw drop at what I see there. A strange, yet familiar, transparent energy covers my hands, swirling around it in a listing manner as it flows over my forearm. I slowly look up at Shepard, only to see that her hands are covered in the same kind of energy as well. The only difference, however, is hers is a neon blue variant of my green.

'She's a biotic,' I marvel silently before my eyes drift back to my own hands, turning them over in awe at the phenomenon. 'But how am I...?!' And then it hits me; the injection that the sister R gave me, and the visions that accompanied it. I knew those hallucinations felt familiar for some reason, but I could put my finger on it until now. The earth-like crevices on my hands, the howling winds that snapped and popped around me, the ghost girl giggling at the foot of my bed. 'Bucking Bronco, Charge, Sonic Boom, and Possession.'

She injected me with a cocktail of ADAM. 'I... I have vigor powers, just like Booker from BioShock Infinite!'

"Whoa." I look back up at Shepard and Chakwas, both standing over me with rapt attention as I see the wheels turning in their heads. 'They think I'm a biotic too, but...' It's then that I remember the woman's answer mere moments ago.

"Think of it as a means to get things moving in the right direction. A catalyst if you will." I look at my hands again, mentally reaching out to the energy. With that simple thought, it slowly begins to dissipate, until all that remains are my non-glowing hands. I test them cautiously, flexing my fingers and making a fist. 'Everything feels the same, only now...' I reach out with my mind again, and the energy reappears in seconds, hovering patiently above my skin, waiting for my direction.

'A catalyst, huh?' A clenched fist, and the glow winks out of existence. 'Interesting.'


AN: Wow, how's that for a twist, True Believers? I know, I know, it's a big no-no to give your self-insert character superpowers, but believe me when I say that I have zero intention on making Oz a god-tier Marty/Gary Stu with his Vigor/Plasmid abilities. The powers he has now were picked specifically to mimic biotic abilities, so he has the same limits as a biotic like Shepard, and will in no way be overpowered or overshadow her role in the story. If I wanted to do that, I would've given him something like Devil's Kiss or Shock Jockey. Besides, he just got his powers, so he has nowhere near the amount of training and experience with them the biotics like Shepard or Kaidan have achieved over the years. With a little training though, he should be more than capable of standing on his own with Shepard and the others in the field soon enough. Many thanks to squigglysquid for beta-reading this chapter, and dealing with my lack of idea on where I wanted to go with this in the beginning (lol XP). Thanks for the support, True Believers; I'll try to have more for you in the weeks to come, time and tide providing. Please feel free to R&R as you see fit; constructive criticism is always welcome, trolls get crushed by their own bridges, and flames get put to a more practical use as fuel for thermal clips and incendiary rounds. Until next time, True Believers. EXCELSIOR!