Disclaimer: Own not I Mass Effect, or the line from a song this chapter is called after

AN: Thank you to everyone who has read this – I'm sorry it took me a while to update. I'm hoping to be a little more regular, maybe once a week if I'm lucky. I'm also on the lookout for anyone who'd like to be a beta – if you want to, message me or say so in a review. Thank you once again to all of you, especially those who reviewed, as feedback makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.

Chapter Two: Torn at the Seams of My Dreams

Shepard was just finishing tying her hair back into a ponytail with a strip of loose plastic she'd found when EDI's voice sounded over the intercom. Soon after waking she'd leapt out of bed, ignoring the echoes of pain from her still healing wound, and thrown on her N7 hoodie instead of the uncomfortably flapping hospital robes she'd been wearing before. After checking briefly on Anderson, who seemed to be recovering though he was still unconscious and wired up to more medical machines than she'd seen since her resurrection, she'd hunted for something to tie back her hair with, along with a reason as to why the door to the medbay was locked. Her entire mind was focused, laying her actions down in front of her in a clear path – one, exit the medbay, two, get a shuttle down to Earth to check on Hammer, three, report in to Admiral Hackett and the council about the Catalyst.

'Commander Shepard, Admiral Hackett wishes to speak to you in the communications room.'

Shepard paused. 'EDI. That might be a problem.' Was it just her or was there a note of trepidation in the AI's voice?

'The door lock has been released, Shepard. It was merely a temporary security measure.'

Security? Shepard didn't really have time to think about it. 'Right. Inform Admiral Hackett I'll speak to him as soon as I can get a sit-rep on the fleet and can check on the survivors of Hammer.'

'He wishes to speak to you now, Commander.' EDI's voice was apologetic, but beneath it was a hard edge.

That made Shepard stop. 'How long have I been aboard the Normandy?'

'Approximately one hour and thirty-two minutes.'

One HOUR? I was more seriously injured than I think I've ever been – on top of that I had overtaxed biotics – and I'm up and about in an hour? Shepard knew that her regenerative rates even without assistance from her armour were nothing short of superhuman after her rebuilding by Cerberus, but this seemed too much.

She went through the medbay doors at a swift jog, startling a passing crewmember who stuttered out a greeting and snapped a salute that Shepard briefly returned. 'What's the status of the Reaper forces around Earth?'

EDI's voice was suddenly directly in her ear, being transmitted to the small standard issue military implant used for radio communications. 'Reaper ground forces are still present, but show few signs of leadership or resistance. The Reapers themselves have – departed.'

Shepard stopped dead again. 'They what?'

'We hoped you could shed some light on their actions. Shortly after your transmission requesting extraction, the Reapers used the Citadel Mass Relay to "bug out" of operations around Earth. The maxim that the majority of casualties are inflicted on a retreating army held true, and many Reapers including Harbinger were destroyed, though the majority escaped. Then the Citadel itself disappeared after huge energy build up. It is believed that it somehow transmitted itself through itself, in effect turning its Mass Relay into a drive core with huge potential. Two seconds before the Citadel's departure, you biotically charged into the cockpit of the Normandy with Admiral Anderson and collapsed.'

Suddenly the memories rushed back, the struggle to move, the final huge charge. 'How...how did I charge that far?'

'Admiral Hackett wishes to speak with you.' EDI's voice had become disturbingly flat.

The lift finally dinged and Shepard leapt into it. The lift's slow speed had been an annoyance previously but now it seemed sinister, hiding the information EDI had refused to share.

Get a grip Shepard. She schooled her face into a mask of calm, of command, and as the elevator reached the CIC she stepped out at a brisk walk.

And promptly almost ran into Traynor.

'Commander! I thought that you would still be – well, in the medbay.'

'Would be, but Admiral Hackett wants to talk to me. And I need to get a sitrep on Hammer and on the fleets ready for me once I'm out of the com-room; I want it all, losses, damage, how many ships are still prepared and ready to fight, the overall state of ground forces on Earth, along with any reports of Reaper activity in other systems. Then I need the Council on the horn and over here along with Wrex, the quarian admiralty board, and some sort of geth representative – not now but after I've got a shuttle down to Earth and then back up again with the ground crew. Got that?'

'Um – yes, but Shepard, I saw you being taken into the elevator down to medbay. No offense, but you don't just get up from the wounds you had without longer care. Are you sure you're alright?'

'I just did.' Shepard couldn't help but add a slight snarl to the words – despite what she'd said she had a pounding headache and the pain, while lessened, wasn't exactly minimal either. And she had so much to do – once again. For a moment she struggled to remember why she hadn't just taken one of the Catalyst's choices, chosen oblivion.

Because we rage against the dying of the light. As deftly as she could she sidestepped the communications officer and set off at a gentle trot to the com-room.

He shook himself from sleep with difficulty, and as his breath fogged the air he realised that the heating coils must have failed. Life support would shut down soon after. His fingers, covered in a thin layer of frost began to crack across the keyboard in front of him, fast and true and precise. He'd delayed nuclear meltdown of the reactor they'd stapled on, but only for now. The drive core was leaking – but only into the sections filled with nonessential personnel. Scum. How had they dared to rebel against him, against his leadership.

Only four remained that he could trust – smart enough to be good soldiers, good scientists, but not as smart as him course. Strong enough to defeat any opposition, but not strong enough to challenge him. He gave a little smile of pride at his accomplishments. Blinked the last of the ice from his eyes. And set to work.

Out the window, the huge shape grew closer, glowing blue in the blackness.

Shepard waited as the quantum connection established itself and Hackett flickered into shape. She'd be damned if she actually knew how the quantum entanglement device actually worked beyond the basics of physics she'd learned – something about particles that had once been related to each other still being able to affect each other across huge distances simultaneously. She briefly wondered what they'd done with the particles linked to the Illusive Man's base of operations – probably destroyed them as much as they could.

'Commander.' She snapped off a salute on instinct at the tone of his voice. It was a voice she herself often adopted, and had nicknamed "Concerned, yet still pissed off, Command voice".

'Admiral Hackett.'

She watched as the figure in front of her's shoulders slumped. 'Shepard, what happened up there?'

'Sir, I'm going to have to tell the Council and the other leaders all of this as well. I'd prefer not to have to repeat it, especially over a potentially unsecure communications line. Suffice to say it was – ' She paused as she searched for the right word to describe it. 'Messy. It was damn messy.'

'No kidding! Commander, the Crucible was our one hope at getting rid of the Reapers for good. We've driven them off for now – but who knows when they'll get back? I need to know what happened – you said the Crucible was a trap, that the Citadel was a Reaper, and then you appear on the Normandy with – ' He stopped suddenly, like someone who realises he's about to say something impolite in the middle of a formal function.

'With what, sir?'

Hackett exploded. 'With fucking Reaper tech inside you!'

For a moment Shepard was so shocked by hearing the unflappable Admiral Hackett shouting that she almost missed exactly what he'd said. Then it hit her like a hammer-blow. Her lungs suddenly seemed unable to suck in the air necessary for her. Her mind was full only of the image of Saren's body, flesh stripped from it, red and glowing.

Hackett sighed. 'Before you start to panic, EDI assures me from the scans that the implants are quite small, and in no way indoctrinate you or allow you to be controlled.' Through the haze that suddenly seemed to surround her brain suddenly connected the dots, EDI's reticence, the surge in her biotic power and –

Rage suddenly surged through her. Cerberus.

'Sir. I'm going to be having some serious words with Ms Lawson.' Her teeth were gritted together, the words pressed out like hard pebbles.

'EDI says that it's probably not her fault. The Reaper tech was imbedded in the Cerberus implants and virtually undetectable, but at a signal it could grow out of these implants and enhance or take control of them. Apparently whatever you did has fried their receivers – they won't be receiving signals from the Reapers, but we can't be sure. Until you are cleared by our scientists – all of them – you are forbidden from using your biotic abilities. Do you understand?'

She understood – it wasn't even that much of an inconvenience. She'd fought without biotics for most of her career, and while they were damned useful she could live without them easily enough. 'Yes sir.'

'Also I'm going to have to confine you to the Normandy until you've briefed me on what happened.'

'But sir –'

Hackett held up one hand, cutting her off. 'Shepard, I don't have time for this. I know you want to check on your ground crew, but you are technically a security risk. Do you understand? A security risk.'

'Sir, would you leave your own men down there?' She tried to restrain the tremble of rage, the little whispers at the back of her head about how everyone betrayed her in the end.

Hackett smiled. 'No I wouldn't. Which is why I'm allowing one shuttle full of medical personnel down to Earth to pick up your ground crew and then return. Of course, London is still a hot zone.'

'They'll need an armed escort then, to protect them.'

'Indeed they will. I think we understand each other, Commander. I'll see you soon. Hackett out.' His image flickered away.

Shepard virtually ran out of the room. 'EDI, tell Chakwas to assemble a group of medical personnel in the shuttle-bay, and tell Cortez to heat up the Kodiak.'

'It's already done Commander. I know that you do not normally wear a helmet but perhaps anonymity would be advisable at this time.'

'Thanks EDI.' Seeing Traynor heading towards her as she ran into the CIC, she grabbed the datapad from her, muttered a quick thanks and dived into the elevator once again.

The others were starting to wake as well, but the ice still froze them near solid. He would have warmed them if he could, but the virus that still raged through the computer systems took control from him with ease. It was only through continual work that he managed to hold it off from the most crucial system of all the engines.

Of course they were heavily damaged by the demolition charges that the rebels had set off. The fools, the primitive idiots. Had he not been a fair leader – fed them, clothed them, taught them? They could have learnt beside him, with him. But they couldn't restrain themselves. Couldn't control their instincts. And so they'd lost out on everything.

For a moment of brief sentimentality he raised his hand from the controls and stroked the piece of metal hung around his neck. It appeared just to be a fragment, curved and beautiful, but it had withstood every test he'd thrown at it, every attack, finally being broken apart into the fragments like the one he carried after a controlled nuclear detonation.

His lieutenant had shaken off the ice now and was heading towards the engineering controls. Good – maybe they could persuade the reactors to give more than what he could. He doubted it, but one could never tell.

The huge metal shape drew closer and closer. The vectors he'd pre-programmed into the computers when he'd assembled the ship were ready for transmission. But they weren't close enough. Not yet.

Shepard suppressed a wince as the shuttle jolted again and her still aching leg had smacked into the seat. She was clad head to toe in the thick N7 Defender armour, but instead of the helmet that accompanied it she'd put on the more concealing N7 Rebreather Helmet. She normally forwent a helmet, hating the stuffiness and the compression into a small space. Sure, they were useful, but despite claims to the contrary they still restricted one's vision, and the protection offered wasn't so much greater that she didn't prefer to go without.

Her greatest problems though were her thoughts. When she'd left the conversation with Hackett she'd pushed the Reaper implants to the back of her mind to focus on the task of getting to Earth to check on her men, the men she was responsible.

The men who had died, who had been hurt, because of her. Who would continue to die and be hurt because of her. Because of the choice she'd made.

It wasn't a choice at all. It was the only way. I wasn't going to destroy galactic civilisation in order to save it.

But this was larger than you. Are you really so willing to sacrifice everything just for a more moments of desperation clinging onto life?

She didn't really have an answer.

And on top of that there still were the images of Saren. He thought he was doing the right thing, siding with the Reapers. What if this is the same? You've been implanted too – what if this is what they wanted?

She could still feel her biotics at the edge of her mind, like the rest of her, like any other muscle, waiting to be used. Like they always had since her resurrection.

It was probably her helmet that was making her think about her first death – the sorrow at the destruction of the Normandy, the burning flickering, and then the panic, the clutching, the fiery rawness as she struggled to draw breath, as her lungs burned away, as the vacuum sucked the moisture and air out of her lungs, just as the fires of re-entry began to burn her skin even through her hardsuit. It definitely wasn't terror that there would be empty rooms on the Normandy, that her soldiers, her friends were hurt or dead. Those horrified words she'd heard over the radio before limping into the transport beam echoed through her head. She couldn't lose any of them – not even Javik, as racist and self-centred as he was. They were in a strange way in her head hers – she wasn't Shepard without Garrus covering her six, without Tali's brisk orders to her combat drone, without Liara by her side, brilliant and blue and radiating biotic power. Oh they all had more scars than when they'd started, from missiles and fathers and deaths, but they were still there, every step of the way.

Well, not quite every step, but sometimes it felt like it.

The shuttle settled down with a thud that jostled through her bones, and Shepard winced. She almost felt one of her ribs shift in her chest. As the door swung open Shepard moved forward to cover the medical crew, carefully avoiding eye contact with Dr Chakwas. She'd recognised Shepard almost as soon as she'd got into the shuttle, as had been obvious from the disapproving press of her lips, but had refrained from saying anything. Cortez had required a bit more persuasion not to blab – mainly a swift headshake as he'd started to greet her as Commander.

Through the door the ash and blackened buildings of London looked much the same as they had before she'd engaged in that desperate run. Except now the tents bursting from them were overflowing, hastily set up bed after bed of casualties lying groaning as doctors ran from one to another, trying to stabilise them as best as they could.

Surely these couldn't be the same proud soldiers she'd stood with not more than ninety minutes before? Surely these blackened and broken figures hadn't been the ones to run beside her? Shepard had seen much of war's horror, but it had never struck her so forcibly as it did then just what the Reapers were capable of. She found herself, half conscious of her movements, drifting towards them. A salarian gazed up her with burnt eyes as she began to walk between the rows of beds.

Urgency seemed to burst into being within her – she had to find her crew now. Her half stumbling motions became a purposeful stride that then became a sprint as she ran down the beds, waiting to see someone she knew, waiting for the terror and guilt lurking inside her to spring back once again.

'Shepard!'

She skidded to a halt, glanced round.

'Shepard! I recognize you under that helmet. Some fight, huh?' The voice rumbled from near her feet.

Looking down Shepard found herself staring into the ice blue eyes of Urdnot Grunt. A wide smile split his huge ash encrusted features at the sight of her. 'I've never seen the damn squiddy bastards run so fast. You must have showed them, huh battlemaster?'

Cautiously Shepard removed her helmet, stared down at Grunt. With sudden realisation she realised that his right arm ended at the elbow. Grunt followed her gaze. 'Ah yes. Can you believe I lost my arm twice? First time was honourable – one of those big Brutes sliced it off, but then I was able to reattach it. Then that Reaper fried it off! Not even a Krogan can regenerate from that, so I had to get rid of it. It was dead weight. But then some nosy Salarian spotted me beating some Husks to death with it and insisted I go to the field hospital. I'm still trying to persuade them to give me something with damned blades on it rather than the standard prosthetic. Bastards won't listen. Maybe they will to you though. You always did have a silver tongue.' Shepard couldn't help but stifle a grin.

'I can actually see you with a scissorhand. It'd probably suit you. How's – how's the rest of Aralakh?'

Grunt's smile grew wider. 'You should have been there. Fire to the left, fire to the right, fire in front, and on they went, like Battlemasters of old. I saw one Krogan with all his limbs gone threatening to bite the enemy to death if they got close enough to him. We lost some good soldiers – but we won. That's what matters Shepard.'

'Have we won? The Reapers have just retreated. They'll be back, Grunt.'

'Yeah, they turned tail and ran. I remember fighting Harbinger – all of his insistence that he was our salvation through destruction, and then he runs like a varren before a thresher maw. Before they were mortal, but unbelievably powerful. Now we've seen them run. Wrex once told me that the greatest battles are won and lost in your followers' minds.'

'Wrex is a smart Krogan.'

'Heh. That's like saying you're a good soldier – it's so obvious to say insults everyone involved.'

A question trembled on the edge of her mind and after a moment she pushed it out with an effort, her gut clenching in anticipation of the answer. 'Grunt – have you seen what happened to any of the others?'

'Well, I saw them carrying away Miranda. Apparently her spine was fractured – you humans really are fragile. Don't know about that other human – the whining one from Horizon, that is, but the alien who smells like a Collector looked crispy the last I saw of him. Jack's fine, the crazy bitch, but some of the pups under her command died. Haven't seen the quarian or turian, or your asari, but that other human – Vega – he lost an eye and a leg. Last I saw him he kept asking for a parrot and some pieces of eight, so he probably hit his head as well.'

The solid ball of tension in her gut sank down and tightened further. Somehow she managed to stammer out words of thanks to Grunt and excuse herself enough to set off again.

Look what you have wrought Shepard. Your crew, your men, scattered and broken. How many more must die, how many more must grieve, how many more must you lose because of what you've done?

How many would have died if I hadn't made that choice? There's no telling what would have happened when the Mass Relays detonated – if it had been anything approaching the destruction of the Alpha Relay, billions if not trillions would have died. And even if they didn't, their destruction would doom every dextro race in a levo system. The entire quarian fleet, all the turian armies, they'd starve to death in a matter of months. Maybe when the dead outweigh those figures, I should feel guilty.

But that's not how guilt works. Guilt isn't logical, it isn't reasonable. It finds fault, it finds the one who's to blame, and it lets them know it. And without guilt, what are we but murderers and cons, constantly wrestling with each other in the mud for a minor advantage. No, guilt may hurt, and it can haunt us when we know that we have made the best choice of many terrible ones, but it is necessary. And with this Shepard did what she'd learnt to do ever since Akuze – she took a deep breath, and pushed all of it: the guilt and worry and exhaustion and self-loathing into a deep corner of her mind and locked it away. She could return to it later when she could afford to.

They were all slaving away now, all five of them, hammering furiously at the controls, diverting as much of everything as possible through the worn out systems to the essentials. Engine thrust had dropped noticeably, and with a sinking feeling he realised the standard fuel reserves had completely degraded. The virus was contained – for now – but this was more crucial by far than some amateurs attempts to destroy his beautiful systems.

He gestured with his right hand, and in half a second the full blueprint of the ship's fuel systems was panning beneath his hands as he searched through valves to find a way to route any excess to the engines without passing it through the area which contained the breach. He had mechanized all the systems and tied them to the central controls when he'd begun to construct the ship – a much more efficient design, that allowed him in the event of a total rebellion of those following him to retain control over all systems, though with some difficulty.

Another hand gesture and one of the remaining four shot from the room, grabbing a wrench as it went. While the system was mechanized, some pipes were open that should remain closed.

Of course, there was also the issue of power – they'd lost most of it save what was necessary, so the lights were out, as were all but three of the consoles necessary to fly the ship. He'd dimmed life support to a minimum, and jettisoned most of the more useless items, such as the dining hall.

They were so close now he could almost feel the electric charge running across his skin, through his body. They could not fail.

Upon entering the medical tent Shepard almost ran directly into Chakwas again, directing a stretcher on which lay a battered looking Kaidan Alenko. He was unconscious, burns and bruises decorating his features. His armour was just as battered, the thick purple ablative plate burned and cracked. Behind him on a second stretcher was Javik – Grunt's description had been alarmingly accurate. His chitin was burnt to a deep black and where it had cracked in the extreme heat the flesh beneath looked sickeningly like roast beef.

'They're both in comas – Kaidan's as a result of his injuries and Javik's medically induced. And they're not even the worst of it. They weren't even sure we'd be able to move Garrus.'

Shepard's throat seemed to dry up in an instant. 'Will they live?'

'Those three are the worst. There's a chance Kaidan won't wake up again – and if he does he might have lost access to the majority of his Biotics. Javik, I'm not sure how much we'll be able to do for him. We just don't know enough about his physiology. And Garrus – he'll live. The question is whether he'll want to.'

The hole in her stomach was a ravening pit of darkness, her mouth a desert. 'The others?'

'Tali's fine – a minor suit breach though so we're going to keep a careful eye on her. Vega lost an eye and a leg but he's fine otherwise. And Liara's fine.' The rest of Chakwas's words seemed to fade away beside those three important ones, those three ones that mattered most. At their command a bubble of joy, of relief began to grow inside her chest.

And then she saw her, looking lost and blue and alone in the middle of the corridor. It never ceased to surprise Shepard how her body reacted to Liara. Her heart raced, her breath became short, and within seconds her normally comfortable armour seemed slick with sweat and horribly itchy. It was like being a teenager again, but without the excuse of being primarily controlled by your hormones to explain your behaviour. And she wouldn't have given it up for all the world.

The first steps she took towards her were hesitant, then as Liara saw her too, those brilliant blue eyes dilating, she burst into a run towards her.

They met in the centre of the corridor. For a brief blissful moment they were wrapped around each other, one body, one mind, one hurricane of relief and desire. Then the kiss they shared had to break apart, too soon, far too soon. They spoke together.

'I thought that – '

'I thought you – '

Whatever they meant to say was cut off as their passion won out and they kissed again, lips pushing against each other, a moment of respite.

They broke apart again, arms still wrapped around each other. Liara's eyes shimmered under the harsh fluorescence of the lights. 'Shepard – when I heard that the Citadel had vanished – '

'I wasn't on it.' She pressed a chain of kisses along Liara's eyebrow, along the fine scales that made up her skin. 'I got off just in time – ' Her words were cut off as Liara pulled her down again into another brilliant kiss.

When they broke apart again, they were both breathing heavily. They had tightened their embrace without realising it, and they both winced as their injuries made themselves known. Each caught the other's wince and backed away hastily.

'Shepard! I'm so sorry – '

'My fault, I should have seen your – ' Shepard gestured at Liara's arm wrapped in the sling. 'You broke your arm?'

Liara's expression folded into a frown. 'And what are the extent of your injuries?'

She has me there...Shepard was distracted from having to reply by the sudden opening of her communicator.

'Commander do you read me? This is Joker. The Council's here, along with everyone else you asked for. They're – ah, they're asking for you.'

They were there. Just a few seconds more. Just a few moments more.

The mass relay grew in their vision, as the ship limped closer and closer to it. He sent the coordinates out, hardly expecting a response. He held his breath.

Then like the finger of some angry god a long streamer of lightning reached out from the blue sun of the mass relay and connected with the ship. He felt it shake, could almost feel the pressure against the hull.

Then there was a flash, and suddenly there was the sensation of moving incredibly fast incredibly quickly, of sudden acceleration then deceleration. His fellows collapsed to the floor, but he remained seating, furiously pouring power from engines to shield generators, to gravity buffers.

The ship slowed, stalled. But it didn't matter. He'd done it.

His huge three parted mouth split in a wide grin, and if anyone had been able to tell what expression was dancing in his eight eyes they would have seen pure unbridled joy. His voice rumbled from a chest wrapped not only in thick natural plating and muscle but a thick layer of silver armour.

'I have done it.'

His fellows raised their heads from where they were lying on the floor. He decided to give in to his sense of drama, and span his chair around to face them.

'My friends, we are the first five yahg to travel to the stars. Let them tremble as we come.'