I think this is a good time to thank all of you for the wonderful reviews. I am truly humbled by the feedback and hope that you continue to enjoy 'Things Change'.

*On a further note, this was originally supposed to be a Sparatus/FShep fic.

Mass Effect belongs to Bioware.


Shepard stumbled into the bathroom, bending over the sink and turning on the automatic faucet. Feebly, she reached for the jar of pills on the counter, taking one white tablet in her mouth and cupping her hands under the water, drinking greedily until she had to catch her breath. For the next few moments, she was motionless, bent over the sink while the water circled the drain.

She couldn't shake the unease.

"Get a grip, Jane," she breathed, but every time she closed her eyes she saw it; the blood, the ugly stain on her dress, and the panic seemed to instill itself in her once more. Now all she wanted to do was to fall into that dreamless sleep, to forget the gnawing feeling feeding on the back of her mind. Worse was that this panic, the sweat-inducing hallucinations—waking nightmares—were things she had to face alone.

Before, there was always someone to talk to, Joker usually—though not exclusively—and after some time there was Garrus, always so in tune with her state of wellbeing that it was practically second nature. She ran her fingers through her hair, fingernails raking across her scalp. Now he was so out of reach it hurt to even think his name.

Slowly, she pulled herself up, half-stumbling into the next room, barely managing to lower herself into the bed. Everything hurt. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so utterly spent. Running around the galaxy recruiting members for a suicide mission had been exhausting, but this…this was something else completely.

She maneuvered herself out of the dress and threw it across the room, settling against the covers. She stared up at the ceiling until finally, sleep took her.


"So how are you feeling?" Sparatus asked, as he took a seat across from her. He had extended an invitation to his office, with certain matters needing to be discussed. Oddly, he didn't look one bit displeased at her sudden departure from the ceremony, quite the opposite could be said for the human councilor, apparently. Sparatus had given her a fair warning moments ago and she had a feeling it was the reason she hadn't presented herself to Shepard today.

"I'm all in one piece," she stated, "maybe a little hungover."

He gave a small nod, "To be expected. Your drinking skills are…notorious."

She shrugged, feigning indifference. "What can I say? I have my talents," she gave him a smile. "My offer for drinks still stands, Councilor."

He chuckled, "And I will certainly take you up on it. Though I will have to bring armed guards, it seems you have a way of attracting trouble."

She shook her head feebly, at the absurdity of that situation in particular. Last night had left a bitter taste in her mouth and she wasn't quite ready to recall the details.

"But you're fortunate, I will give you that," he amended, with a flutter of his mandibles. "To be honest, I'm more curious as to how you came across General Corinthus' son."

She blinked, mouth suddenly agape. "General…Corinthus?" Of course the name was familiar. Landing on Menae and raising the Primarch had been no small feat, and she had yet to forget the General that had assisted with that matter.

Sparatus raised a brow plate, "Spirits, you were not aware?"

"F-ferox?" She had to say his name outright, to verify that they spoke of the same person. But of course they did. She knew she'd seen those stunning green eyes before, on someone else, on a slightly different face.

"…Yes. Ferox is General Corinthus' son. Did he not tell you himself?"

"No," she admitted, infuriated. "That bastard." Was it because he thought she would not remember his father, or because it wouldn't be as 'memorable'? For someone that brought her up to speed about the price on her head he certainly kept more than a few important details to himself. What ever happened to honesty?

"I'm sure he had his reasons," the councilor offered, though he seemed mildly perplexed.

"Yeah," she muttered, dismayed. "I'm sure."

"There is another reason I called you here." He said, leaving the subject.

Shepard settled her hands on her lap, "I'm trusting you to be straight with me."

"You deserve that much," he noted. "It's about your Spectre status. It has, over the years, been revoked."

"Figures," Shepard commented dryly.

"Has the Alliance contacted you? They were the ones that confirmed that you had regained consciousness, I imagine they—"

"No," she interrupted, clearly bothered by the fact. "No one has bothered to contact me."

"Surprising, but understandable," he explained, maintaining his diplomatic tenor, "Admiral Hackett stepped down not too long ago, I imagine whoever is in his place has other priorities."

Her shoulders dropped slightly, "Makes sense, I guess."

"Shepard, there are other options for you," he said, as if trying to clarify something that might have passed her mind. "Civilian life is always a practical choice. You would be well taken care of, your living expenses paid for. It would be…a nice change of pace."

Shepard frowned. "You mean retire?"

Sparatus made a sort of shrugging gesture, "It would certainly be well-deserved. You have an impressive record behind you; the Blitz, Sovereign, the collectors and, of course, the Reaper invasion."

She sighed, "Yeah, but—" It was all too much to think about, too much to consider given that her prior plans for retirement had fallen through since waking up and finding out the other half of the plan was now preoccupied with a startlingly pretty turian female.

The turian councilor continued, "After all you've done, perhaps you could stand to find a new way of life," he paused for a moment, "maybe you could even settle down." It was not completely out of the question, though given her prior relationship with a certain turian, it might have been unimaginable for her at the moment.

She fixed her eyes on his. "I'm not retiring. I'm a soldier…I'll never be anything else."

"Well, you certainly are committed," the councilor admitted, "but you've been gone for five years, Shepard. It will be a while before you can be fully conditioned to fight, let alone return to your Spectre status."

"So I'll train," she said, determined. "I will get back what I lost."

He gave a brief smile, "I'm certain you will. You have a record of doing the impossible, and it's a small feat compared to what you've accomplished. Given our limited resources, the other councilors have agreed that the best course of action is if you, Shepard, receive your training under the guidance of a Spectre."

That was, for once, a welcome surprise. Her expression eased.

Sparatus looked at her gravely, "I need you committed to this."

"I will be."

"Regardless of personal matters," he pressed.

Shepard gave a firm nod, "Regardless."

"You will be receiving your training on the turian ship Saphrax. It is currently under the command of Garrus Vakarian."

She felt the blood drain from her face. As much as she would have rather avoided seeing him after last night, it now seemed as if she'd be seeing a lot of him from now on.

The turian councilor gave her a stern look, "I assume this will not be a problem?"

She straightened up on the chair, wiping the flustered look off her face with some success. "No, of course not."

"Good," he stood, prompting her to do the same. "It was pleasant having you in the Citadel again, but I suggest you begin preparing to board. In the meantime I will send word to Spectre Vakarian that you have accepted his offer."

Shepard was speechless. "His offer?"

He fixed his eyes on her, "It was his idea. The Council merely sanctioned it. Do you have any objections?"

She shook her head, "No," she answered quickly.

He clasped his hands together behind his back, regarding her with quiet solemnity. "Shepard," he began, his voice lowering a fraction, "for your sake, put aside whatever happened between the both of you."

"Yeah," she whispered, curling her fingers into fists. "I will."

Doubt filled her—how could she face him when every time she thought of him she felt a sense of betrayal? The thought of being in the same ship with him made her anxious. But there was too much to gain from joining him, and the offer felt like the only way out of this ambiguity and into her old line of work. Whatever his reasons for extending it, they had nothing to do with love. Only duty. Of that much she was certain.

Shepard uttered a few words of sincere gratitude and left, her mind a blur. She loved Garrus, and that wasn't going to change any time soon, but she had to get through this, even if it meant denying her feelings.

She had a lingering suspicion that she was off to a rough start.