Author's Note: I actually think I spent over an hour picking out fish in ME2, so this chapter is dedicated to my beloved fish who think it's funny to die after I forget to feed them once.

Chapter Twenty: The Return to Normality

One Year, Nine Months, Eighteen Days Later

Despite Colt's long absence, Liara's favorite picture of him, taken during their Thessia vacation, still sat on her desk. Besides his dog tags, it was one of the only things she had left. The two of them were sitting on some rocks. Shepard's arm was thrown around her shoulders, and a goofy look was plastered across his face. Liara was nothing special in the picture. What mattered was that his personality had kinda been captured. It wasn't anything like the real Colt. But it was something.

Liara was an awful asari. Time and time again she'd received the speech. The one explaining lifespan difference and the importance of letting go. Turned out Liara was neither ready nor capable of conforming to asari cultural expectations. She wasn't even at a place that could be considered acceptable. So much for letting go.

Goddess. How long had it been? Must've been approaching two years now. Two years without him.

Weren't these things supposed to feel less like a sucking chest wound as time went on?

The all too familiar feeling of frustration prickled the back of her neck. What was taking Cerberus so long? She'd been hunting while the Illusive Man lay dormant. Getting revenge was important, but reviving him topped the list. Two years was a bit much for such an endeavor. Wasn't haste important to humans?

"Doctor T'Soni? Excuse me?" A loud voice interrupted her thinking.

"Yes?"

"Quite some arm candy there," he said while gesturing to the picture of Colt she'd forgotten to put away. "I guess you wouldn't be interested in my other services?" Her client, named Jason Arrington, replied back. A twinge of the eyebrows accompanied his words. It took Liara a moment to understand what he meant.

Her hand flew to her face and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her patience for this crap was in the negatives. She leaned forward in her chair and in her kindest voice said, "I want to make it perfectly clear that the only thing I want from you is creds. If you suggest that I want anything else, I will cut off your balls and feed them to a varren. Clear?"

Jason just stared at her for a second and mumbled,"Yes, I-I think you've made yourself clear."

"Greeeat. I can have the information you want in a week but I will need fifteen hundred credits," she said. Liara looked down at her typing fingers, only to look up once more when he didn't respond. "Problem?" She asked.

"That just seems like a large amount," Jason stammered out.

"No other information broker on Illium can get what you want faster or get the amount of information I can provide. So, fifteen hundred or you find someone else and wait weeks or months. Your choice," she said. It was a well rehearsed answer.

"Fine," he growled and tossed a credit chit her way. She took it and pressed it against the scanner on her desk. It flashed the green light of approval before she handed it back.

"You are good to go," she said.

"Thanks," he muttered. He shoved the credit chit into his pocket before standing up.

"I will send you a message once I am done," she said. Her words were lost on the young human, as the door slid shut before her statement was finished. Good riddance. Still, she couldn't really complain. He was paying her well.

The number of clients she'd been getting was great for forgetting and even better for her bank account.

Okay. Now all she had to do was acquire the information Jason wanted. He thought there was something going on with the executives at Illium Incorporated. So all she had to do was-

Her omni-tool flashed and beeped to warn of an incoming call. She tapped mindlessly at the flashing icon. "Doctor T'Soni speaking," she answered. The picture of the other speaker was blacked out. Fantastic. Someone was probably going to threaten her. Again.

A moment of silence passed before a strange mechanical whir screeched through the speaker. Then another stretch of silence. "Project Lazarus has succeeded. I've sent you an image for proof," the voice on the other line wheezed out. The call cut off before anything else could be said.

She closed down her current windows in record time and opened the unnamed file that popped up in her messages.

There he was.

Goddess. A strange feeling of numbness started to creep into her bones. There he was. Alive. Colt was alive. Goddess.

This was the best day of her life. Really. Truly.

She wanted to run out of her office and yell the news to the streets. She wanted to stand on her desk and dance. She wanted to fire her staff and leave. Wherever he was, she wanted to be.

Liara could feel her heart soaring. She looked back at the picture just to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

He was walking away from a burning building, a rifle in his hands. The date in the corner said it was from a few days ago. A biotic corona surrounded his body. Odd, but whatever. He could be half varren and he'd still be perfect.

…

Most of Shepard's old scars were gone. The scars from bar fights? Gone. The scars from living on the streets? Missing. Only two remained. One was on the left side of his head, just at the hairline. Of all his scars, he wished that one had disappeared. The other was the disgusting twisted flesh on his right bicep. It was faded for sure, but the image of a serpent was still there. New scars, however; were plentiful. They crisscrossed his face, a faint orange glow behind them. Even his eyes glowed a little. It was disconcerting for sure. When he'd tried to sleep earlier, he could hear a faint whirring noise resonating from his body. How much of him was him?

Was he dreaming? God, did he hope so.

He didn't want to be on a Cerberus ship. He didn't want to be alone with a bunch of terrorist strangers. He didn't want any of this shit. Where the fuck was Liara? Garrus? Tali? Ashley? He really, really needed them to come save him. Or wake him up. Whichever.

He was so scared. He couldn't sleep because of the terror that was leeching into his brand new bones. He couldn't eat either. He'd been trembling for days. Miranda told him it was because he was getting used to his new body. It was vastly improved she said. He was hundreds of times stronger. He was biotic now. What the fuck? Here was a crazy idea. Maybe he was shaking because a crazy fucking terrorist group had revived him at great expense. Maybe he was shaking because everything was wrong.

Miranda told him that it had been two years since…the other Normandy. That didn't seem real. It felt like maybe a week at the longest. His new biotic powers were the only thing that convinced him of Miranda's story.

Why did Cerberus give him biotics? It was like handing a child a loaded gun. He didn't know shit about biotics.

"We'll be docking on the Citadel shortly, Commander," a voice in the ceiling announced. Colt about jumped out of his skin.

"Thanks, EDI," he muttered.

"You are welcome."

His reasons for visiting the Citadel were pretty straightforward. He needed to talk to Anderson and he needed to get fish. It would be weird if he left the fish tank empty. Plus, his love of animals simply didn't allow him to pass up the opportunity. Cerberus, despite all it horrendous faults, at least let him have animals. When he was part of the Alliance all he heard was that animals wasted oxygen and blah, blah, blah. The Council wasted precious oxygen on the Citadel, yet they were allowed to stay.

Shopping for animals was the very definition of a good time. Commander Colt Shepard, Savior of the Citadel, Hero of Elysium, was about to go on a legendary fish shopping binge. No shame. Spending his small fortune on fish didn't bother him one bit. Spending credits on clothes? A total waste. Spending credits on fish? Sign Colt the fuck up.

"Commander Shepard, we have reached the Citadel. Should I inform Miranda and Jacob to get ready?" EDI asked.

"No thanks, EDI. I think I'm gonna have to make this trip alone," he said.

…

After he dropped his aquatic pets off with a very pissed Miranda, he hopped onto a rapid transport tram headed for the Presidium.

Not a single cell within his newly redesigned body wanted to exit the tram. If he didn't move a muscle, he'd be whisked away to somewhere else. Still, there were people to meet and things to do.

Much to his amazement, he got off the tram. Even stranger, he kept on walking.

The Presidium was a fucking dump. Shepard thought they'd make the place even more beautiful after Saren's attack. Nope. Did they hire a Krogan interior designer?

How could it look so similar to two years prior? How could nothing have changed? How could everything have changed?

Maybe it wasn't done yet. Maybe they were still designing and building. Hopefully.

He paused in front of the steps leading up to Anderson's office to look out over the Presidium. The site of arguably his most famous battle. Colt's heart weighed so heavily in his chest there was a possibility it could sink to his feet. This place looked like it had been attacked a month ago.

Had it really been two years? God damn.

How did Cerberus expect him to just pick-up where he left off?

Colt shook his head to clear his thoughts. He rubbed at his eyes a bit before heading up the stairs. A set of wide doors waited at the top of the staircase. Luckily they whooshed open instead of requiring him to yank at them. Last time he'd tried to open a door, the damn thing ripped right off its hinges. Miranda told him it would take awhile to adjust to his new strength.

He walked to the receptionist's desk and said, "Lieutenant Commander Shepard to see the Councillor, please. I made an appointment."

The receptionist stared at him for a second before he started typing at his console. "I have you in the system. The Councillor will be ready for you shortly," he said.

"Thanks," Colt said. He turned and strode past the few carefully placed chairs towards some windows overlooking the ruin.

Surely this wasn't real. It couldn't be. This was just some weird dream after a Ryncol filled night. His friends were with him through the thick and thin. If this were real, they'd be here now. There was no way they'd let him linger in purgatory.

"Commander Shepard? Councillor Anderson is ready for you," the receptionist said. Colt looked out of the office windows for a moment longer before he turned to the young man.

"Thank you," Shepard said. He started to stride towards the former Admiral's office before the receptionist spoke again.

"Uhhh, Commander? Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Shepard said. He walked towards the desk and set his folded hands lightly on it.

"Everybody thought you were dead. The-the Alliance reported your death. The news channels were all over it for weeks."

"So what's your question?" Shepard asked harshly.

"I-uh. Umm, where you really, you know?" He stammered.

Colt thought for a minute. He cracked his knuckles and licked his lips before speaking, "I guess."

"How'd you come back?"

"That's the question of the year, my friend," Colt answered, "I need to speak with the Councillor now."

"Yes, yes. Of course. I'm sorry."

Shepard turned on his heel and walked quickly towards the office. He needed to get the fuck away. He walked through the door, turning his head a bit to make sure that it closed securely behind him.

He turned back around, only to be greeted by the sight of Anderson's freakishly large office. Jesus. What the hell did he need all this room for?

"Colt. Is that really you?" Anderson's voice sounded to Shepard's left side. The Commander's entire body shook with terror at the Councillor's booming voice. "Jumpy much?" Anderson said.

Shepard ran his hands over his head. Fuck. Everything was a bit too much these days. "Can you blame me?" He asked.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nevermind."

Anderson shook his head. "Let's try this again," he said. The former Admiral approached Colt and set a hand on his shoulder. Colt flinched away. "What's the problem, Shepard?" Anderson sighed.

"It's not you. I don't know what the fuck Cerberus did to me, but the lights are too bright and everyone is too loud."

"So, they got you drunk?" Anderson laughed.

Shepard barked out a humorless laugh before running his hands over his head again.

"What do you mean, then?" Anderson said.

"When people talk it's like they're screaming in my ears. When something touches me, it's like getting slapped. For fuck's sake, I'm biotic now."

"So you really did die?"

"Of course I fucking died! Do you think I got all scarred up from chilling in someone's basement?"

"Calm down. It's an honest question."

"Look, all I know is that suffocated above some God-forsaken planet and then I woke up."

"Do you remember it?" Anderson asked.

"Remember what?"

"Dying?"

Colt's jaw tensed up. The last thing he needed was a reminder of what happened. "I do. Every second of it."

Anderson nodded but said nothing.

"Are you happy to see me?" Shepard asked suddenly.

Anderson shook his head before saying, "What kind of question is that?"

Shepard shrugged. "An honest one."

"Jesus Christ. Of course I'm happy to see you. Over the moon, in fact."

"Then why'd you ask me if I really died?"

"Shouldn't I be giving you the ninth degree?" Anderson said.

"Shouldn't I be dead?"

"Hmmm," Anderson rumbled.

"What?"

"This isn't how I envisioned our reunion," Anderson admitted, "I thought it would be more...comfortable?"

"I thought I was going to be dead for the rest of forever, but we don't always get what we want," Colt said.

Anderson blinked slowly before he asked, "Are you okay?"

Colt had no idea how much he needed someone to ask him that. "I'm supposed to be dead, Anderson. I'm supposed to be rotting on Alchera. I'm not fine. To tell you the truth, I'm not even sure this is real," he said. He breathed in and out steadily. Should he say what he wanted to say? "You know what the worst part is?"

Anderson shrugged.

"I'm not happy that I'm back. I feel like I've been robbed. Of what exactly, I don't know. But it's not right, Anderson. Me being here. It's not right," he said.

Anderson looked him over carefully before stepping lightly towards him. He wrapped his arms around Shepard and pulled him closer. Colt stiffened up when he realized his shoulder was getting wet. He knew better than to mention it.

Anderson took ahold of Colt's shoulders and yanked him away. He brought a hand up to his face and half-heartedly wiped at his eyes. "Well, I'm happy you're back, Shepard. In fact, I think that this may be the best day of my life."

Colt stepped back from his former Captain's grasp and shuffled over the the office's windows. Maintaining direct contact with Anderson was starting to send needles through his nerves.

"So, Cerberus?" Anderson said.

"I don't have a choice."

"Of course you do. You always have a choice."

"If I had a choice, I wouldn't be standing here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Anderson demanded.

"It means that nobody asked me if I wanted to come back."