I will warn everyone in advance; this chapter gets a little dark and a little graphic. You have been warned!

I still don't own anything.

Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Hold.

Wind speed and trajectory blinked a warning in his visor. He didn't bother adjusting his scope; he wouldn't be there for that long, anyway. He shifted, aiming nanometers left of where he had been previously. Adjust for drop-off, and…

Red blood splattered over clean blue and white armor as the sound of a rifle firing echoed through the "empty" allies. The shooter vaguely wondered if the pristine armor had ever seen combat, but it wouldn't matter now. Empty space yawned where the mercenary's head had been and the body fell in a heap.

One.

The scope was settled on a new target before the sound had died; the merc's eyes were wide and he looked around frantically. Unaware of his friend's demise, a round tore into his chest and he crumbled. A faint gurgle reached the sniper's ears as the life drained from the merc's face.

Two.

The last merc brought his gun up, scanning the room calmly. Well, as calmly as a man can while he's stepping through his comrades' blood and brains. The cross hair lined up just above the man's forehead and—

Bang!

His head snapped back, gun falling from his grip, and he dropped to his knees. For a moment, it seemed he would stay like that, but gravity took hold and the body tumbled forward.

Three.

With practiced precision, the rifle was disassembled and stowed and, lurching to his feet, the armored sniper all but ran from his perch above the killing ground. To the untrained eye, the allies were deserted, but he knew that the citizens of Omega were experts at remaining unseen. Whispers of "Archangel" reached his ears through his helmet, face hidden behind the darkened glass, as he hurried away. The gold symbol on his arm earned him nods of reverence as he wove through the slums, trying to get off the streets as fast as possible.

"Spirits bless you, Archangel."

The helmeted turian paused, staring at the asari for a moment before hurrying on. She looked like…

The image of his teammate lying in a pool of purple blood, eyes wide and clouded, mouth open like she was screaming rose unbidden and he fought down the nausea that threatened to overtake him. Legs snapped at odd angles, stomach slit and guts spilled beside her. He knew—he knew—she had been alive for all of it, and the memory made him shudder. If only these people knew… They wouldn't revere him as a savior if they knew what he had done.

He'd let his team die.

Bitterness gripped his heart and he cursed Lantar Sidonis for the thousandth time, stomping into the apartment complex that had become his hideout. Thermal clips littered the floors and surfaces and medi-gel was stuffed into every available inch of shelf-space. He mused that it probably looked like he was preparing for an apocalyptic invasion and the humorless husk of his soul responded that he was. Right, the gangs… He trudged up the stairs and flopped onto of the couches. They'd be after him soon. No, they already were. Maybe they'd get lucky and find him, put a bullet between his eyes.

Good.

He tugged a chain from under his armor and let his talons run over the metal tags, her tags. At least if they killed him, he could finally be with her.

Shepard. Jane. Just like old times…

He'd come to Omega over a year ago—it seemed so much longer than that—and immediately ran afoul of Omega's self-proclaimed queen. She made it clear that she had every intention of teaching him a lesson for breaking her one very simple rule, but something in his despondent stare as he had placidly listened to her chew him out made her change her mind. She'd made him an offer—more like an order, but that wouldn't have been polite—and he'd accepted with a shrug: stay out her business and fuck with all of the gangs equally. Good enough for him. In exchange, she ignored him and denied knowing anything about him when the gangs came to her. Which was pretty easy, considering all she—or anyone, for that matter—knew was that he was turian and a deadly shot. Sure, she'd tried to get him to talk or even take off his helmet at their odd encounter, but he'd adamantly refused and—after many failures—she'd given up. Aria T'Loak would never admit it, but a mutual respect existed between the pirate queen and the vigilante.

Archangel lowered his head into his hands, letting out a shaky breath. The Blue Suns would find their dead soon, if they hadn't already, and they'd want payback, once and for all. They were by far the largest group—and therefore the largest threat—but the other two gangs were a concern as well. Eclipse and Blood Pack had already made a few pitiful attempts to take him down after he'd decimated their chain of command—retribution for the slaughter of his squad. He tensed as memories forced their way forward.

Blood—lots of it, lots of colors—painted the walls and floor like a macabre masterpiece. Smoke choked him, carrying the stench of burning flesh. He barely held down the bile in his throat, stepping further into their headquarters. He couldn't bring himself to call out for anyone, jaw clenched tight until it ached as he pushed further in.

The sight of the bodies—mangled, burned, bloodied—made his stomach retch and he surrendered its contents until his eyes burned.

"-angel?"

The weak voice jolted him and he ran toward it. "Hello? Where are you?"

"Damn… You—" a hacking cough cut off the voice, human voice, "—you did come back."

He rounded a corner and felt his stomach attempt to rebel again, eyes falling to his first ally on Omega. "Spirits, Butler," he breathed, kneeling beside the pale human. Butler coughed, hand pressed to a gaping hole in his torso, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Archangel could see snapped and shredded ribs through the wound and, as his friend let out another violent hacking cough, he could tell the man's lungs were filling. If he didn't bleed out, he would drown. Bruises covered his face and arms like he had been beaten before the buckshot was unloaded into his chest.

"Hey, boss." He gasped for air between coughs and Archangel went to apply medi-gel to the wound—to do something to help his friend—but Butler shook his head. "Don't bother. Too—" he wheezed, trying to get enough air, "—too late for me." A humorless laugh escaped him, though it sounded more like a shallow panting breath. "Never thought it would end like this." Archangel stared, despair evident in his clear blue eyes. "Do me a favor, boss," he forced out, hands beginning to shake, "Kill the bastards." His eyes widened and his gripped the turian's arm with impossible strength, then released it, eyes glazing over as his head fell to one side. The turian grabbed the man's shoulder but he was limp, and a mournful keen reverberated from his chest. Gone, his entire team was gone, and he hadn't been there to help them. He'd left them to their deaths.

"You couldn't have known."

Get out, Shepard. For the first time, he didn't want to hear her reasonable comments, her calm tone grating on the open wounds. He lurched to his feet and stumbled out of the burning building, into the streets of a station that both loved and hated him. How had this happened?

Sidonis.

Rage burned inside him and he vowed right then and there that one day, he would find him and repay him for his kindness. A life for a life, and he owed twelve.

Commotion drew him out of the memory, out of his bitter fog, and he went to the window. His eyes narrowed, settling himself on a low crate below the ledge, and he brought his rifle's detached scope to his eye. His mandibles pulled tight to his face in a turian frown behind his helmet and a low growl rumbled in his chest.

A barricade had been set up on the far side of the bridge. Oddly proficient for the gangs… He caught a glimpse of Blue Suns armor over the wall, then a flash of yellow alongside the gnarled form of a vorcha and his brow furrowed. Eclipse and Blood Pack working with the Blue Suns? Doubt settled heavily in his gut and he kept watching as they reinforced their line, positioning troops to shoot intermittently at the building. Mercs scurried about, peering over the wall every now and again, and he found himself wondering who the unaffiliated soldiers were. They stood out among the uniformed gangs—freelancers, he guessed, promised money if they helped the gangs—and probably had no idea what they were up against. Good. Without diverting his eyes, Archangel reassembled his rifle—an older, worn model but he would never part with it.

Shepard had given it to him, a parting gift, when he'd told her that he was returning to C-Sec.

His talon ran absently over the space just above the trigger, feeling the uneven patch of metal where he'd etched her name and he let out a low sigh. I'll see you soon, Shepard. He had stopped expecting answers shortly after his team… After that. She was angry with him, he imagined—he knew it was stupid, she was a figment of his imagination, but it was all he had—and he didn't begrudge her that. But he still missed his best friend. Her tags hung like a weight around his neck and his settled the rifle against his shoulder. The crosshairs floated until they settled on a young freelancer—secondhand armor that barely fit and a gun that he was obviously not trained with—and lined up on his face. He had no idea what he had signed up for; as far as Archangel knew, he was innocent. His talon tightened on the trigger, waiting, tempting Shepard to stop him and tell him he couldn't kill innocent people, regardless of the situation.

Nothing.

Tell me not to, Shepard. Tell me this isn't who I am.

Silence. He felt an ache in his heart and closed his eyes for a moment. Please, Jane. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he chided himself. Even when he knew she was dead, he still needed her to save him, to guide him. Well, there wouldn't be any more of that; no more Shepard. No more Vakarian, he mused sadly. Maybe this was meant to be his end; maybe he couldn't carry on without her. Part of him had always known that was true, but now his brain screamed it at the top of its lungs to fill her silence.

I'm sorry, Shepard.

The lightest pressure, and the bullet discharged, flying across the space and burying itself in the kid's neck.

One.

White… Sterile… Chemical smell…

Beep… Beep… Beep…

Words… She could hear words. Someone was speaking and she strained to understand, but her muddled brain couldn't wrap itself around the speech. Desperately, she tried to turn her head, to look around and get her bearings, but she couldn't move.

Panic.

Her eyes darted around the room, locking on a face as the woman stepped into her field of vision. Wide, terrified green met grey and she struggled to open her mouth, to demand answers, warn her off, beg for help… Her jaw wouldn't move, sending a spear of pain through her mouth and she tried to twitch away from the pain.

Help me.

The woman started speaking, her lips moving in the same pattern over and over until her brain finally connected. "Commander Shepard, don't move," the woman said. Her voice was not soothing as she looked down at the laid up commander. "Just lie still. Everything will be all right."

Shepard… Right, her name. Shepard. Her last name. What was her given name? Her head ached as she wracked her brain, but it wasn't for naught. Jane. Her name was Jane Shepard. She clung to it with her sluggish mind, desperate to hold on to something.

She tried to lift her arm, commanded her body to react and do as she willed, to stop this strange woman, but her hand barely rose an inch. Her keeper gently pushed it back down—despite the fact that Shepard was resisting with all her might, it seemed to take no effort—and gave her a small smile.

"I promise, everything will be all right." Her gaze shifted to someone outside of Shepard's gaze and barked, "Give her the sedative."

"I did, she's not responding. Her vitals are erratic and her heart rate is climbing." The machines beeped in a frantic alarm and Shepard willed the woman to look at her again.

"Another dose, now!"

Don't send me back there. Please, don't send me back there. Please! Let me stay awake! Her whole body ached and pain lanced through various parts of her, but she couldn't bear to fall back into the black. Please, please, it's cold and dark. Don't make me go back there! The edges of her vision began to darken and a pained whimper slipped between her lips. There was no light waiting for her, she knew. There hadn't been the first time, and there wouldn't be now. Please… Tears slid down her scarred cheeks and she didn't look away from the woman above her, trying to communicate with her eyes but the woman moved away from her, out of sight. Shepard wanted to scream, but it was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open. Her vision narrowed further, growing darker and darker until…

She fell back into the void, fear and despair filling her last seconds of consciousness.

Shepard has finally made her appearance! This chapter went to a bit of a dark place, but bear with me.

Pardon me while I beg for reviews, but I really want to know what you guys think!