Two years, two weeks since Normandy crash.
Jane Shepard shook her head, struggling to keep a grin from her face. Despite her initial, and sustained, distrust of Jacob Taylor, she couldn't help but like the man. It hadn't surprised her to learn he was ex-Alliance. He carried himself like a soldier, but more than that, he had the same sick sense of humor most soldiers shared.
"So Collectors look like big bugs, right?" he asked.
"That's what I hear."
"Kind of karma, then, for them to be collecting humans." said Jacob. "Maybe we'll get to the Collector base and there will be all the colonists pinned to styrofoam sheeting.
"You have a strange mind, Jacob." she said.
"I figure it's from the biotic amp." he said,shrugging. "Now, show me how you're doing with the exercises I taught you."
Shepard flopped herself into the seat opposite him.
"Absolute shit. I'm telling you, I'm going to have Chakwas remove this amp, it's useless. I haven't had the slightest spark since the medical facility." said Shepard, frowning.
"It takes years, Commander. You shouldn't even have been able to use them once. Now, try very hard to pick up this toothpick. Imagine reaching out with your mind, and all that other gibberish the manual says." said Jacob, and laid a hand on her shoulder.
Shepard concentrated with everything she had, staring at the damned toothpick, which may as well been a grown tree, for all the success she was having.
"It's not working." she complained.
"Quiet, Commander. Concentrate."
Shepard thought to herself. "Move. Move. Move, you bastard! I'm not letting some dead plant get the better of me, no matter how smug it is!" The toothpick trembled, and she let out a victory whoop.
"Did you see that, Jacob? It moved!" she said, pointing.
"I didn't see anything, Commander. Are you sure you didn't just breathe too hard?" he asked skeptically.
"EDI, what is your opinion?" asked Shepard.
"Trace levels of dark energy around the toothpick suggest-"
"See! Victory is mine, stick!" joked Shepard, and then stood up. "Thanks for the lesson, Jacob. You're all right, for a Cerberus drone."
"Gee thanks, Commander." said Jacob, and rolled his eyes.
Shepard smirked as she walked out of the room.
Commander Shepard stared at the screen in her quarters, willing her inbox to have a new message.
"Damn it, I'm dead for two years and everyone I know drops off the edge of the galaxy." she grumbled. So far, she had not received a response from any of her old crew. At least she knew Tali was alive, thanks to Freedom's Progress. Even Tali had not responded, and Shepard frowned. She had liked to think she was not quite so easy to move on from. She pushed away from her desk, bored. Shepard had never been able to stand being idle. They were still half a day's journey away from Omega, and already, she had exhausted her tolerance for the Extranet. Shepard turned her attention to one of her favorite activities: interrogating Cerberus employees.
"Hmm, so we're recruiting a vigilante?" mused Shepard, looking over the dossiers. She put her feet up on the coffee table, ignoring Miranda's glare.
"Do you have a problem with that?" asked Miranda. "From what the dossier says, he or she is a tactical genius, wiping out half of Omega's mercenary population over the past year."
"No, sounds like just my kind of crew member." said Shepard. "Nothing better than power-mad tactical geniuses with sniper rifles."
"Anything I can help you with, Commander?" asked Miranda, not even attempting to hide her disdain.
"Not really. Do you have time to talk?" asked Shepard.
"I'm rather busy at the moment." said Miranda, pursing her lips disapprovingly at Shepard's nosiness.
"Way I see it, you owe me a few answers." said Shepard. "So why do you work for Cerberus? Money? Fanatiscims? Do they have you by the balls like they do me?"
Miranda looked taken aback at the onslaught of questions. "I believe the ends justify the means. Cerberus had made great technological strides in a relatively short time. I believe it what Cerberus stands for.."
"At the cost of civilian lives." said Shepard. "You haven't seen what I saw, Miranda. I watched colonists turned into mindless husks. I watched a friend of mine blow his brains out over what Cerberus did to him. Did to us. Did you know they deliberately lured my unit to Akuze, and then tabulated the results, as if we were rats in a maze?"
"Look, I'm not here to debate morality with you. You have your opinion, I have mine. I'll have you know I sleep just fine, knowing that I am doing everything possible to advance humanity." said Miranda.
Shepard sneered. " So you actually believe in their rhetoric? It seems Cerberus's breeding experiments have succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. You look and sound human, but I know they've bred the heart right out of you."
Miranda watched Shepard walk out of her office, obviously feeling she had the upper hand. Miranda could have hurled her desk against the wall. She did not know what the Illusive Man saw in this pig-headed, high-minded, crass soldier. She did not want to think about how close Shepard had gotten to the truth, to the inside of her deepest, darkest fears; that she was no longer human, after all the genetic modification she had received.
Shepard pushed through the crowd in the Omega nightclub, Afterlife. Any other time, this place was exactly her kind of bar: loud and crowded, with sleazy dancers and sleazier patrons. Today, though, she wasn't in the mood. She had a damned mercenary group to join, and the thought made her feel slimy. Shepard, like many soldiers, saw mercenaries as vermin, and dealing with them was unpleasant.
She heard someone make a remark involving a part of his anatomy and Miranda's ass, and grinned. Perhaps the day was looking up. Shepard watched Miranda pick the man up by the front of his shirt and throw him into the table.
"Shit! What are you?" he whimpered.
"Your worst nightmare." said Miranda, and Shepard burst into mocking laughter.
"I see you have a taste for the dramatic" she said. "Get out of here, you puke." she said to the man, who was drunkenly getting to his feet.
"Let's get going. Ugh, I'm going to need two showers after this place." said Miranda, ignoring Shepard's commentary.
Shepard stood in the line for mercenary recruitment. A young teenager jostled her. "Come on, lady!" he said. He puffed out his scrawny chest.
Shepard turned around, and looked him up and down. She figured the kid could not have been more than fifteen, and rolled her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Why does it look like? I'm gonna kill Archangel, get that reward. Just got myself a gun." said the boy, looking down at the weapon held clumsily in his hand.
Shepard sighed. "No, you're not. Get a refund for that gun." she said.
"What, why? Is something wrong with it?" he asked.
Shepard snatched it from his hand and broke it. "There is now. Get out of here, kid. This is no place for boys who don't even have pubes yet." she said. "Want to learn how to use a gun? Join the Alliance. They're always looking for cannon fodder."
"You bitch!" the boy screamed, and lunged at her. Shepard ducked, twisted, and threw the boy to the floor. She lightly rested her boot against his throat. She could feel him trembling, and see the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.
"Don't make me tell you again. Next time, I might just crush your throat for annoying me." she said, glaring. She shook her head disapprovingly, and Jacob prodded the boy to his feet with the end of his shotgun. The boy made a high-pitched squeal, and scurried out of the club.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Shepard laughed. "Oh, to be fifteen and fearless again." she said.
"I wouldn't take fifteen again if you paid me, Commander. Fifteen was a damn stupid year for me." said Jacob.
Shepard laughed. "I think it was for everyone."
Shepard found herself easily slipping into old habits as she ducked, shot, and ducked again. Cutting her way through freelance mercenaries made her wince at times. Most of them had very little training, and it was simply not a fair fight. Shepard saw two freelancers go down in front of her on the bridge, and grimaced. Whomever this Archangel was, they were a damned good shot. Among the best she'd ever seen, if Archangel was truly alone.
"Let's hope Archangel doesn't get us, too." she said, scanning the bridge ahead of them.
"From the way we're killing mercs, he'd have to be blind to shoot at us. We're obviously allies." said Jacob confidently.
"He? Archangel could very well be female." said Miranda.
"Bet you he isn't." said Jacob.
"Alright. Usual stakes?" asked Miranda, and Shepard noticed a strange look cross Jacob's face. He seemed to steel himself, and then answered.
"Sure."
Shepard didn't have time to puzzle over the inner workings of her crew, not while bullets sang around her head. She rushed forward onto the bridge, taking out the freelancers as she went.
They made their way up the stairs. Shepard saw Archangel at the window overlooking the bridge, a wide Turian helmet obscuring his face.
"Archangel?" she asked. "Don't shoot! We're here to recruit you."
The man turned. He seemed to stagger back.
"Are you hurt?" asked Shepard, walking forward. She fiddled with her belt, pulling out a medical pack."We have some medi-gel, if you need it."
"Commander Shepard? Is that really you?" asked Archangel, and Shepard immediately recognized the voice.
"Garrus? You old dog! It's you!" she cried, and rushed to him. She stopped inches from him, and punched his shoulder. "I should have known; you always liked taking justice into your own hands."
"You must be a hallucination." said Garrus. "Just when I thought those merc bastards were going to get me, who comes storming in to save the day but Commander Jane Shepard? Just like old times, huh?"
"Look, as touching as this is, we need to get moving." said Miranda impatiently, tapping her foot.
Garrus turned, and noticed Miranda's uniform.
"You're working for Cerberus now?" he asked sharply.
"Yes. You need to trust me, Garrus. I'll get you out of here, and then I'll explain everything." said Shepard. Garrus squinted at her. Shepard knew he was looking at the scars on her face, and then he nodded. He then explained a plan to break through the mercenary lines.
Shepard paced around the communication room. Jacob's eyes followed her around the room.
"Try to take deep breaths, Commander. It's not good for biotics to get so upset, especially when they aren't trained. Broke an arm that way once, myself. He'll be fine. Doctor Chakwas was able to repair a lot of the damage." said Jacob.
"I hope so." said Shepard. The doors opened and Garrus strolled in, as casually as if he had just come from a midday stroll, not the medbay after getting half his face blown off by a gunship.
"Tough son of a bitch wasn't even supposed to be up yet." said Jacob admiringly.
Shepard looked up and grinned.
"How's it look?" asked Garrus, his voice slightly nervous.
"Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly. Slap a little face paint on there and no one will be able to tell the difference." said Shepard lightly, though the damage to Garrus's face was severe.
Garrus let out a breath. "Some women like facial scars. Of course, most of those women are Krogan." he mused. "I just wanted to tell you, Shepard, that I'm here when you need me."
Shepard smiled, and Jacob was a little taken aback at the brilliance of her smile. He had watched the video of the Commander's funeral, and the raw emotion in the voice of the lieutenant who had spoken about her had not seemed to mesh with the harsh, crude captain. Certainly not with what her reputation had been among Alliance soldiers; efficient, coldly professional, and completely aloof. Now, with her eyes soft and her lips pulled back in the first smile he had seen on her that was not a smirk, she was pretty. Jacob shuddered. He must really be suffering from a dry spell if he had started thinking that scary, sharp-eyed women like Shepard were pretty.
"You don't know how much that means to me, Garrus. Jacob, will you excuse us?" asked Shepard. Jacob jumped as if startled, and she gave him a strange look.
"Yes, ma'am." said Jacob and walked out.
"I know you must have your reasons for working with Cerberus. I had a look at the info you forwarded me, and I agree that the Collectors must be stopped." said Garrus, sitting painfully in a chair. "If you think they are working for the Reapers, that is all the reason I need."
"I tried every other way, believe me. I was not exactly happy to wake up on a Cerberus medical table, let me tell you. After what they did to Toombs, I thought the worst. From what I can tell, they haven't been able to control my mind. I was worried about that, after all the mind-control methods we saw in development. No, not even the Alliance would help me. All my years of service, everything I've done for them, you'd think I've earned a little leeway. Nope. They acted like Saren had orchestrated the attack on the Citadel, like I was just some crazy old veteran with visions. The Council then threatened to lock me up for treason." said Shepard.
"Surely you didn't make any incendiary comments leading up to this threat, did you?" asked Garrus, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
"Why, Garrus? Me?" asked Shepard, and batted her eyelashes. "I told them that next time they are relying on me to pull their asses out of the fire, I may just let them burn..."
Garrus gasped, and laughed, then held a hand up to his face."Hurts. To. Laugh. Oh, Shepard, it is definitely you. I was a little hesitant, with those glowing scars on your face, and the whole coming back from the dead thing was startling."
"Now we match." said Shepard. "Stick some l.e.d.'s in there, and we'll be goddamned twins."
Garrus grunted. "Hmm, except your face is all squishy and round. No artistry, no flare." he said, gesturing dramatically.
"No freakish mandibles, you mean." said Shepard, a sly smile on her face.
Garrus laughed. "Ah, well, to each their own, I guess."