Cerberus was relentless.

Years ago, she'd faced them in base after base – scientist and operative alike – but she'd never come across them in such a huge number. Even on Mars, with soldiers thick on the ground, they were spread out over the facility's levels, dispersed over the metallic sprawl for kilometers. Some were there that she never met; they never threatened her. The squads were sent out through the facility to find what Cerberus was looking for, to get rid of the Alliance forces.

On Sur'Kesh, they had only one heading. They had to find the krogan on the orders of their cell's head. That meant diverting the commander, throwing every trooper they had at her squad and the containment pod in an attempt to wrest the immune female right out of their hands.

Shepard fought Cerberus before. Years were spent wiping out every cell of the organization she could find if the mission's parameters were loose enough that she wouldn't be brought under court martial for her actions. And when she joined the crew of the Normandy, she had no idea that would only lead to more run-ins with Cerberus. She didn't know she'd be going right up against them time and again. She didn't know she'd run into Toombs.

But then that same organization brought her back, brought life back to charred muscle and broken bones and a too-long-dead brain, and gave her what she needed to help.

The Illusive Man gave her no reason to trust him, and at first, she gave him no quarter. Miranda and Jacob received similar treatment. But things changed. There were colors to Cerberus alongside the typical black and gold. Miranda wasn't her uniform or her resume. She was soft shades of peach and vibrant blue; she was the love she had for her sister and her freely admitted self-doubts. Everything about Jacob was rich shades of brown and orange. He was friendship and companionship; and for a brief moment during their mission, even more than that.

And no matter how much she hated the thought – the Illusive Man was as white as he was black and every shade of gray in between.

So when Payton voiced her disbelief, Garrus didn't seem as surprised as he might have when their friendship was still new. When her throaty, "Why are they here?" finally left the air between the three of them, it was James who spoke up.

"You've obviously pissed off the Illusive Man," he said, brusque and slightly out of breath, rolling back onto his heels before vaulting over the low ledge. He hit the ground on the other side and began picking through the bodies for heat sinks and medigel. "It's not like they've got a good reputation with you. Why are you surprised they're eager to shoot you in the back?"

"Because the Illusive Man doesn't want to kill me." Garrus held out a hand, and she took it, letting him boost her up to her full height. "I don't think they're here on his orders."

Garrus made a contemplative sound in his throat. James, however, still wasn't buying it. Shoving a few spare heat sinks into the belt around his waist, he twisted his head enough to peer over his shoulder at her. "You've gotta be kidding me. This reeks of the Illusive Man. Of course he'd use the genophage cure to get the krogan to side with him. It's not like he'd make any alien friends without some heavy handed manipulation. They all hate him."

"I've seen his work. He's subtle. This isn't subtle." Garrus looked up from his omni-tool when he interrupted James' stream of though. If Cerberus was going to throw everything they had at them, he was going to throw it right back, even if it meant recalibrating his omni-tool on the fly. "They're messy. Probably some cell trying to get in the Illusive Man's good graces. I can't imagine how bad they screwed up if 'cure the genophage' is the first thing they thought of when the topic of 'how to make amends' was brought up in the bi-monthly terrorist meeting."

Payton nodded. "Exactly. The Illusive Man wouldn't want to be caught at the helm of something like this. Every time Cerberus has screwed up, it's never been on his hands. He makes sure of that."

"Sounds like an even bigger asshole than I thought."

"No. Sounds like a genius," she replied, licking at her lips and casting one last look around the room. Twenty corpses, give or take, littered the ground among blown out bits of armor and blood that coated the stone tiles, thick and black. "He knows his limits. And he knows he's better at talking than taking action. That's important."

James didn't say a word. Slowly, he was learning when to shut up. Sometimes he got it wrong. Sometimes he miscalculated, and it took something like that to snap him back into place.

This time, it was Garrus who said the obvious.

"To be fair, that doesn't make him any less of an asshole."

"It makes this complicated, then, does it?" James asked, bouncing a pack of medigel in his palm before tucking it right above his ammo belt.

He only looked up when he felt Payton whisk right past him in the direction of the elevator. "No," she said again, swiping her hand over the panel before stepping in. "I don't care why they're here. They're a threat to this mission, and they're hostile. Their intentions don't matter."

The two followed her into the elevator and up to the next floor. Floor after floor, they met resistance. Troopers and snipers and engineers, all of them fighting with assault rifle and turret, with tooth and nail. The salarian facility was difficult to navigate without help, and no one in the squad had ever so much as seen the floor plan. All they had was the spotty connection to Padok Wiks Garrus managed to hook up and Payton's innate sense of direction.

Wiks was holding off the main foyer with a handful of the STG stationed there, and after a bit of prying, he let it slip that there were other groups of guards stationed around the facility reporting no damage. The attack was concentrated. They knew what they wanted. And if she wasn't fast enough, they'd get it.

Two floors after the first, they ran into another familiar face, though she only pinpointed the salarian after he'd managed to kill a Cerberus troop with his bare hands.

"Captain Kirrahe?"

The disbelief in her voice was what kept his weapon holstered. He looked to her with an open-mouthed smile before extending his hand. She took it, the firm handshake bringing a thankful smile to her own face.

"Major Kirrahe," he corrected her before nodding towards Garrus and then James. "When I got word that you were here, I was going to go up and say hello. Glad I didn't. There's too much ground to cover. It's good to know you're here. We need to get the krogan female off Sur'Kesh."

"Agreed. I'm on my way up to help Mordin with that very thing." She paused when she heard voices on the other side of the wall. More Cerberus troops were filing in through the back. "Are you wounded? We have medigel to spare."

Kirrahe waved her off. "I'm fine. My shields don't hold in close quarters, so I took a few hits. But my armor's the best, and medigel doesn't heal bruises." Before she could say a word edgewise, he leaned around the corner just enough to see what they were up against. The Cerberus soldiers were too busy watching the engineer program his turret to see him. He slid back into place, eyes almost bright when he relayed his plan to her. "Flank them. I'll keep their attention, and you'll be there before they even realize it. Stay low. They're incredibly stupid for armed forces."

Payton nodded, hugging as close to the wall as she could as she watched Kirrahe jump out into plain sight. The Cerberus troops started shouting. They started shooting. And they only stopped for a moment when Kirrahe fired his pistol, loosing out a handful of cluser grenades that dug into the troops' armor.

The three were pressed up against the lab's low partition when they heard the explosion, when one of the troops flew backwards, hitting the wall to the right of them and crashing down into one of the many desks. A moment's inspection of the awkward positioning of his neck was all they needed to know he was dead, and they popped out of cover.

James unloaded a clip from his assault rifle into the turret, knocking down its shields without trouble, and Payton threw a grenade of her own out onto the floor. It clinked on the stone, skidded, rolled, and then stopped at the engineer's feet. Before he could roll to safety, the explosion lit up the area and tore through his legs, leaving him screaming and utterly useless.

Another turret cropped up soon after, positioned behind a corner. The angle was just perfect enough to reveal a shot at James even from his position half behind the partition. His own shields were gone before he realized where the fire was coming from. Fire from the turret dug into his armor, bolts burying themselves into the layers before Garrus overloaded it.

"Shit," James ground out, reflex driving the shoulder of his left arm into the wall. He still held his rifle, still stood his ground, but he hadn't expected anything to get through. He could feel a familiar warm stick absorbing into the lining of his armor. Growling under his breath, he hitched his rifle up until the barrel rested on the wall, eyes narrowed to get a better shot at the trooper running towards Garrus.

Payton took down the second turret with a blow from her Mantis, but adrenaline and sudden concern for her squad kept her from making sure the combustion made quick work of the second engineer. "Are you hit?" she shouted, voice pitched above the fire that threatened to drown her out.

James didn't answer her; he was too focused on the task at hand and too set on ignoring the hit to respond.

Uttering a quiet, "damnit," under her breath, she looked back to the troopers just as Garrus felled the final one. There was blood everywhere, the sight punctuated by the smell of charred muscle and melted metal.

She shoved her sniper rifle aside before turning to James.

"You get shot," Payton began, grabbing for his wrist with her right hand and tugging it forward. He hissed when she jarred the wound. "You tell me. You answer me when I ask you if you're okay. Got it?"

James worked his jaw. "It was a graze."

"A graze that kept you from holding your damn weapon properly," she snapped at him, the orange light from her omni-tool blooming to life. Scanning over the bolt-scored armor covering her bicep, the readout proved that it was, in fact, a graze. "If you're hit, answer me. I don't care if it's a graze or if you're bleeding out. Answer me."

"I understand, commander." While that hadn't been the response she expected, her grip on his wrist loosened, and she dug her fingers into the pouch that held his medigel close to his armor. "Adrenaline."

Payton shook her head as she tore the packet open with her teeth. Carefully applying a small amount of the gel to the tear in his armor, her eyes narrowed slightly. "Machismo. And don't try to tell me otherwise. I've been with the Alliance since you were in middle school. I know marines."

No one laughed outright at her comment, especially not James. Garrus was too busy getting into the doorway leading up to the top floor to do more than chuckle. While he didn't feel chastised, James was more concerned with not prompting that kind of response again than protecting his ego. And Payton hadn't meant for her words to be humorous.

Instead of lingering, she folded the packet carefully and tucked it back into the pouch, grabbing for her rifle and heading towards the door.

James fought even harder after that. Whether it was because of his wounded pride or a restored feeling of togetherness borne of her concern, she didn't know. But that didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that they continued to tear through the waves of Cerberus enemies. What mattered was helping Mordin pass every checkpoint without the krogan female taking any damage.

On occasion, her shields were knocked down while she lined up a shot, but not once did either of them let her take anything more than surface damage to her bulky armor. They fought through smoke bombs, holding their breath and blinking against the painful burn.

The numbers grew in place of the destroyed engineers, and when they finally reached the roof of the facility, the Cerberus cell held nothing back.

Two waves of men and women hit them only to be thrust back. Garrus' sniper rifle eventually ran too hot, forcing him to replace the weapon with his assault rifle, but he barely gave pause before doing so. And when a mech was dropped from high above, he was glad for the change of pace.

Payton struggled at such close range, pulling up her cloak to line up a shot into the Atlas' window as James and Garrus made scrap out of its legs. Each time she took a shot and the cloak fizzled out, she was forced back into cover when the mech launched a missile in her direction. She was panting by the time the mech's heavy footsteps stopped, the tell-tale clicking and hissing of an oncoming explosion prompting her to slide down even farther against cover and shut her eyes.

After the smoke, billowing and black, cleared away into no more than wisps from the machine's massive corpse, Payton opened her eyes to see Mordin smiling at her from inside of the containment pod.

"Impressive," he said, voice filtered over the system and given a mechanical twang. "Don't remember ever seeing you flinch, though."

In the background, she could hear James laughing. The sound was more relieved than amused, though it didn't lack any of the latter. Rubbing over her face with a gloved hand, she boosted herself up onto her feet again. "I wasn't flinching. It was a safety precaution."

"Mm, yes, of course."

"It was."

Garrus stepped up to her right. "I don't think he believes you, Shepard."

Shrugging them off, she moved out in front of the krogan female instead, a tiny smile carving a line into the skin beside her mouth. "I'm glad to see you both managed to get out of this safely," she told her just as the containment pod's protective shield dropped. "I'm glad I could help."

"You're interesting to watch, commander. Though I do wonder how you were able to control Wrex on the battlefield."

"By not trying to control him at all," Payton chuckled.

Said krogan was "guiding" her out of the way a moment later, eager to put distance between him and Sur'Kesh. Even more eager to get the last remaining immune female of his species to Tuchanka. He'd heard the comment as clear as day, offering a low-pitched laugh of his own as he extended a hand to help the female off of the pod. "She couldn't."

"Hm. Wouldn't, I imagine," the female replied, glancing at Payton with slight incline of her head.

Wrex huffed, and Payton bit her lip to keep from grinning.

So the old krogan battlemaster had met his match.

"Should get off of Sur'Kesh. Cerberus may attack twice. Facility being evacuated in case," Mordin said, hand gripping at Payton's upper arm to begin guiding the group towards the Kodiak. "Kirrahe sent a message. Giving you his STG unit."

Payton's brows rose. "Really?"

"No unit to give if they stay here. Have to evacuate." He let go of her and stepped up into the shuttle, turning around and watching as the others followed. The tips of his fingers tapped together impatiently, though he didn't seem half as ready to get off of the planet as Cortez.

The pilot winced inwardly as the shuttle dipped under the weight of the two krogan, but they were in the air just after the doors closed, leaving the salarian facility and a fresh set of questions behind them.

They were packed into the shuttle nearly shoulder to shoulder, but even that didn't stop her from turning towards James. Mordin sat in the seat next to Steve, looking over the shuttle's specs curiously. Garrus stood next to Wrex, and the krogan female was sitting down between the group of four.

"How's your arm?" she asked, voice pitched low to keep from disturbing anyone else. James tilted his chin down to look at his arm, the other lifted up and holding onto one of the bars running parallel on both sides of the shuttle.

"It's good," was his reply. Simple, but not brusque. "Told you it was just a graze."

Payton narrowed her eyes at the hole in his armor before she turned them up towards his face, intense blue fading into something softer. "And I told you it didn't matter."

"My arm's fine, Shepard," James murmured, a line forming between his brows when they furrowed a little. "Thanks for asking."

"Don't let it happen again."

He chuckled. The sound was rough, aided by a twist of his lips. "Yes, ma'am."


A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing and putting favorites/alerts on this fic! It really does mean the world to me. Every bit of feedback helps along the writing process.

Also, I wanted to say that this fic isn't following the exact line of events. Some things you may want to see might not be included, though I'm trying to fit in the characters that crop up in-game as best I can. So if there's a certain interaction you wanted to see and I didn't include it, I'm sorry. I'm trying not to use any dialogue from the game. And if I do, I'll work around it to make it my own. Following the game word for word just doesn't really interest me. So if you wanted to see something and I didn't write it, I apologize! Just trying to put my spin on things. :) Thank you again!