Chapter 21: Storm

Kaidan

My hand was still burning from where she'd held it, the way she'd grabbed me like a lifeline as I'd pulled her aboard the Normandy, aware of every second that my skin touched hers.

The last time I'd actually touched her, I'd been kissing her goodbye. It felt like a century ago, a dream. This felt like a dream too, because there was no way it could be real.

There was no way, after months – years – of speculation and dread, that it had happened at last.

The Reapers were finally here. An hour into the attack and my home was already all but lost, the skyscrapers of Vancouver cut into pieces, reports from all over Earth of unfathomable destruction and chaos. It was the fight I'd trained for all my life, the one I'd been gearing up for ever since Eden Prime, but now I was watching from the sidelines. Even now we were speeding away from the devastation tearing through the planet, away from my home city burning, and Vega was shouting and Shepard had ignored him at first but now she was yelling right back and this – all of this – was just wrong somehow.

The radio signal had been weak, but I'd made out the words 'I have Shepard with me', and suddenly my only priority had been to get the Normandy to wherever the hell they were. I hadn't taken the time to look around at the horror of the city I'd grown up in falling down around me – at that moment all I'd cared about was pulling her out of hell. I barely even spared a thought for my parents, the people I'd seen just yesterday before they left the city, and now all I could do was hope that they'd left fast enough.

Anderson had fought to get Shepard off-planet, and then he'd stayed behind. The look on her face when she realised he wasn't coming was nothing short of heartbreaking, like a too-young soldier being sent off to war for the first time, saying goodbye in the full knowledge that they probably wouldn't come back. She'd been angry about that, was still angry about that, but the anger was futile because there was so little we could actually do.

I heard a loud, metallic bang and looked back to see her bare fist smashed against one of the crates littering the cargo hold. At once, James was silent.

"I just need to think, okay?" she yelled, the red scars curving around her face just as dark as her manic eyes, "I just need a few seconds to figure this out, and I need you to shut the fuck up while I do it!"

I didn't know what their relationship was – I thought he'd just been escorting her to the hearing, but if he did know her then he must have been incredibly brave or just incredibly stupid, because heargued right back.

"Figure what out?" he shouted, "how to turn the ship around? Because that's all we should be doing! We can't leave them—"

"We have to," she insisted, voice hard and unbending, "otherwise we're all dead. I don't like it either, but we can't go back – it's too late, the Alliance wasted too much time. I told them this would happen, they didn't listen, and—"

"And what," he bristled, "we're just gonna fly away because you're pissed?"

"No. We're going to get help. We're going to do what we should have spent the past six months doing – we're going to gather an army, and we're going to take Earth back. I'm going to fix this, and I want you to help me, but if you'd rather be on Earth then I'll just open the fucking airlock and you can jump out, because I am not turning this ship around. Do you understand me, Lieutenant?" The drill-sergeant voice she used made Vega bite back whatever retort he had on his lips as he hunched over and looked off to the side with his jaw tightly clenched. Seeing she'd won, Shepard stepped back from where she'd been snarling up into his face and relaxed her shoulders. I was still standing where I'd been before, watching the whole exchange as though it were a recording, as though none of this were really happening.

"This is bullshit," I heard James mutter, even as he stalked off to the back of the cargo hold. I felt the early twinges of a jagged headache working their way up the back of my neck.

As soon as he was out of sight she turned back to the wall of crates she'd just dented with her metal-threaded fist and ran a hand over her face. There was pain in every movement, and now, with just the two of us, it had become so, so real.

"There's nothing we could have done," I said at last, and her head jerked up in surprise as though she'd forgotten I was there. Her eyes searched my face in a split second, and she looked down to the floor, her lips tense. "The Alliance screwed up, but Anderson spent the past few months making sure the Normandy would be ready, and that you'd be on board when this all went down. This is the only thing we can be doing right now, you have to know that."

"Then why does it feel so much like running away?" she asked plainly, her voice already hoarse and exhausted. She gave me a long, hard look and in her eyes I saw crushing defeat, the look you hide from your own soldiers and only share with those that already know how bad the odds are. She shared it with me now, in that sharp gaze of hers that cut through all the bullshit, all the clichés and banalities and demanded to know exactly what you could tell her that could make any of this any better.

'Because you'd rather be fighting with Anderson', I could have said, or maybe even 'because we are running away'. But instead I said nothing, no platitudes to try and explain away the mess we were in. There was no precedent for this kind of thing. We'd never faced total extinction before. My hand was still tight around my gun as I stared back at her, still just so grateful that she was alive and right here where at least I knew she was safe. For now.

"So, Major Alenko," she said after a while, moving over to her armour piled up at the side, "are you calling the shots now, or are you gonna let me have my ship back?" Her hand ran over the marks on the hardsuit where scars and dents had long since been buffed out. Her tone was casual, light, even, but I knew better.

"You'd follow my orders?" I asked disbelievingly, already knowing the answer.

"I'd think about it," she said, tugging her undersuit out from beneath the pile of armour pieces. My own hardsuit was back on the Citadel in storage, but there was another left in the Normandy. Anderson had told me that only a few days ago when I'd arrived back on Earth just in time for the invasion. He'd intended me to be part of this crew too, but never at its head. That space had always been meant for her.

"The Normandy's yours, Shepard," I said simply, "and its command. Always has been."

There was no other way it could be. That very morning I'd seen the almost imperceptible twitch in her eye when she realised I'd been promoted to Major and now outranked her even more than before. No doubt she wasn't fond of things happening around her when she could do nothing about it, especially when she was locked away for no actual reason. Still, the thought had never entered my mind that it would be me giving the orders – in my mind it was always her. Anderson had looked at me as she pleaded with him to come aboard, and in that look he'd told me to do what he couldn't – take care of her, follow her just as I used to, get through this together because there was no other way to win.

For a moment I thought she might thank me for the show of confidence, maybe even say that she was glad I was there, but I knew the woman in front of me too well. I knew that stiff, stubborn twist to her chapped lips, the tension that flowed through every one of her muscles that said she had a job to do and didn't have the time or energy to think of anyone or anything else.

"I know," she replied at last, still not looking at me, her face hard and blank and revealing nothing. And then she glanced up with a curious look in her eye, just for a second, opened her mouth, closed it, and turned back to her armour.

The words 'are we okay?' lined up on my tongue, and at that moment I'd fully intended to start an actual conversation about how we would work together after everything that had happened, but Joker had other ideas. As soon as his voice crackled over the commlink, she was all business again.

I watched her hands as she gripped the side of the console, arms rigid as she spoke to Hackett. She lifted her head to order Joker to Mars, and then she turned to me and gave a weary, hopeless sigh, as though to say she had absolutely no idea what she was doing or where she was going and didn't care if I knew it. It was the same way she'd looked at me the last time I'd seen her, with a kind of sadness that said she knew what had to be done, and that she had to be the one to do it, but couldn't for the life of her figure out why.

I thought of the way she'd looked as we pulled away from Earth, her mentor staring up at her, with pain and distress and all-consuming frustration written on her face as if all she wanted to do was scream and stop the world just for a moment so she could take a breath.

We could wait.

"Are you okay?" I asked, needing to hear a real answer. It came in a short, helpless shrug, her brows drawn tightly together. All I wanted to do was touch her again, hold her hand tight and firm and draw out some of the tension wound up inside her, tell her that it would all be fine even though I knew things would only get worse. Apparently the four months I'd been without any contact from Shepard had done nothing to help me get over her. As soon as I'd seen her, just like before, it had all come flooding back.

"I'll have to be, right?" She said simply. "It's not much of a choice when it's that or watch the world burn." She looked back down to her armour and gathered up her undersuit. "At least…at least now we have a plan."

We. It was a little thing, maybe even unconscious, but I held onto it. I was here with her, fighting alongside her like I should have been all this time. Even if we couldn't fix what had broken between us, I could keep her safe, watch her back. With so much chaos swirling around us, it would have to be enough.

oOoOoOo

Shepard

Telling James to drive the shuttle had been a good idea, I thought. He'd calmed down, but I could tell he was still simmering, and at least this way he'd have something to concentrate on that wasn't me and how I was making him run away from our home planet while fire rained down on helpless civilians. At least on Mars I could point him in the direction of any Reaper hostiles that landed and let him loose with that huge gun of his that I'd never seen him use. I'd been told he was a hell of a soldier and fought like a battering ram, which would compliment my style perfectly. After all, Anderson hadn't just picked him because he was good at not pissing me off.

I wasn't even pissed off at him now, even though he was clutching the controls to the shuttle with a stony look on his face, staring dead ahead at the monitors and resolutely ignoring me. That was fine. I understood why. We were all tense. It would pass.

I moved to the back of the shuttle where Kaidan sat hunched forward, his brow furrowed in thought, harsh lights casting a shadow below his high cheekbones. Silently, I sat next to him and inspected my weapon for the fourth time.

Kaidan was still…hard to be around. It was strange enough seeing him as I'd rushed to the hearing this morning, even stranger to hear that he was now a Major and had, once again, moved on with his life while I sat around, useless. I didn't begrudge him the success, far from it, I was glad that he'd found his place and was doing so well, but…I hated being left behind. I hated feeling like the world was turning around me while I stood perfectly still.

At least this time I hadn't been unconscious. And he'd known where I was, even if the only time he'd been able to get back to Earth was on the very day I would need him the most. He'd given me this odd little smile as I'd moved past him to the hearing, as though to say he was happy to see me there, alive and well, that it was a pleasant surprise.

And so, when Earth had been attacked and we'd been hurdling the charred bodies of allies to get out of the building, I'd feared for his life. I knew he was capable enough, but a lot of capable people had already died in the chaos of the invasion. And then I'd heard Anderson up ahead saying the words 'Major Alenko, is that you?' over the radio and something inside me had just wanted to collapse with relief.

It wasn't just that he was alive and well, it was that he was on the Normandy, back where he belonged, and they were coming to help us. Anderson had patched him through to my frequency and hearing his voice over the radio had eased the frantic hammering in my head. He was fighting creatures from our nightmares, watching the world erupt into flame and rubble around him, and he was talking as calmly as if he did this every day. Kaidan had always been the calm in the centre of the storm, the voice of reason that said he understood why I wanted to howl in frustration but that overreaction wouldn't help anything.

He'd promised me he'd come back. He told me that, if he could, he'd be here when it all happened.

I stole a glance now, at where he sat staring at his hands clasped together, expression thoughtful and faraway. He'd come back, just as he'd said he would, and now he was right here beside me, just as I'd wanted.

But things still weren't working as they should. It was still strange to be around him, especially in the context of a mission where he'd already said I was in charge but where he outranked me, and though I still remembered just what it was like to fall into sync with him like we'd trained together all our lives, he'd been fighting different battles for almost three years. He'd changed, there was no doubt about that.

Still, the core of him was still the same. He was still calm, reasonable, thoughtful. He still knew exactly what I needed to hear, even though that infuriated me. Having him here at the end after he'd been there with me at the beginning felt…it felt right and wrong at the same time. The part of me that needed that kind of basic comfort felt safe every time I heard his voice. The other part, the part that was still smarting like hell over the way he'd rejected me on Horizon and how I'd been too much of a coward to tell him how I felt…that was still filled with bitter resentment. I knew that there was something still crackling between us, and I hated not knowing what it was or what to do with it. I hated not knowing how to act around him. I hated not knowing how he felt.

But, I reasoned, at least he was a welcome distraction from the Reapers. It had been horrific, every second, and even now that I'd had a few hours to process it, that was still the only description I could come up with. It was like those dreams where something awful is happening right in front of you but you're stuck, held down, mute, unable to scream let alone stop it. That kid. I'd watched his shuttle go down while I was being taken away to safety because apparently my life was worth more than his, because everyone thought I could save them. That kid had been smarter than all of them. You can't help me, he'd said, and he'd been right. I wondered how many more people I'd have to see die, after swearing I'd save them all.

I thought of Anderson, and I felt sick. I'd left him there, and I still had no idea if I'd ever see him again. I hadn't fought side by side with him in years and...it killed me to say it, but he was getting old. Him at his worst was still better than most people at their best, and he could still keep up with me, but he'd graduated from the N7 programme almost twenty five years ago, and it was starting to show in the way his aim was just slightly off, and how he'd had to pause to catch his breath more than once. And yet here I was, still young and finely-tuned and capable, and I was jetting off to play politics and gather intel, while he was left on Earth to fight a battle that should have been mine.

It just...well, it sucked.

"We're almost there," Kaidan said suddenly, and I snapped my head up to stare straight at him, at those whiskey brown eyes framed by thick brows that were lowered in concern. I wondered how long he'd been looking. "You think we'll encounter any resistance?"

It wasn't a real question, that much was obvious, he was just trying to stop me from making myself crazy over something I couldn't control. He was transparent, painfully so, but at that moment I didn't care. I needed a distraction and there he was, telling me to focus on the mission to hand. Focus on what you can do, not what you should be doing. I'd have told him the same thing a few years ago. Back then I'd have taken this all in my stride, I wouldn't have spared a thought for the people on Earth. Learning to care was the worst mistake I'd ever made.

"Don't know," I replied wearily, "We shouldn't. The Reapers haven't hit Mars yet but they will soon. As long as we're in and out fast enough we should miss them. The only living things we should find are the Alliance troops and scientists stationed there, our priority is extracting the intel in the Archives, but if we have time we'll evacuate whoever we can."

"If you're not expecting hostiles, why so many guns?" He looked pointedly at the heavy pistol in my hand, the other on my hip and the shotgun slung across my back.

"I haven't touched a gun in almost six months, Major," I flexed my fingers around my pistol in agitation, as though to remind myself it was still there, "And after today I'm never going outside without one again."

He understood that, at least. Not many people would, but he knew I felt naked without a weapon to hand. If he remembered anything at all about me, he'd have known how hard it had been for me to stay locked up for so long without one.

"Fair enough," he said simply. And that was it. But at least I wasn't thinking about the Reapers any more. No, instead I was thinking about the man sitting next to me, and when we landed on Mars all I could think about was the way his voice sounded as it came over the commlink in my helmet and the way that sound was so linked with a tight bundle of memories that it brought them all rushing back. Idiot that I was, I started to think that maybe it would be okay. Maybe fighting with him would be just like how it was before, maybe we'd be able to fix it all.

And then we saw Cerberus, and I could hear it in his voice as he said the name – the resentment, the bitterness for all the things they'd done to me and to others. I could hear the thoughts mulling around in his head as he asked me if I knew why they were there. I could hear him wondering whether that was why I'd taken so many guns to what should have been a clean extraction, if maybe I knew more than I was letting on. I could feel the change in the air when the idea clicked into place, as the Alliance soldier inside him wondered whether he'd been too quick to trust me after all.

"How can you not know why they're here?" he demanded as we picked over the bodies of the agents we'd just blown to hell. The commlink made his voice sound harsh, demanding, and without being able to see his face, his tone just made me angry.

"What, because I've got an earpiece with a direct line to the Illusive Man?" I replied, voice loaded with sarcasm and adrenaline running high as I moved forward into cover, "Is that what you mean?" The very suggestion of it made me furious. I thought we'd left it all in the past, I thought he'd actually understood that I'd never really been on Cerberus's side, that I'd always had my heart in the right place.

"No, I don't think you're still working with them," he said, his voice straining as he threw the last Cerberus commando back with a heavy shockwave, "I'd just expect you to have an idea of what they were planning, seeing as you were on board for all that time."

"Well shit," I snarled, lining up another shot as I spotted a cluster of agents around a vehicle ahead, "I guess I should have paid more attention to the file marked 'Cerberus Master Plan' on my desk, but I must've been too busy saving the damn galaxy!" I swung out of cover and fired, loving everything about the feel of the heavy kickback after so long with nothing in my hands. My pistol was perfect, powerful but accurate, the kind of weapon that could cut a man's neck in half if your aim was any good, and my aim was the best.

"That's not what I meant!" He insisted, blue fire erupting over his hardsuit as he caught four agents in a singularity. He'd become a lot more powerful since the last time we'd worked together, that much was obvious. A lot more confident too. He had a security with his own abilities that wasn't there the last time I'd fought with him. Now, he was happy to take point and tear their troops apart without waiting for me to catch up. Now, he wasn't looking for direction from anyone, and he sure as hell wasn't afraid to call me out, either. I wasn't sure if I liked it.

"Can you two maybe save this for a time when we aren't getting shot at?" James yelled in disbelief.

The sounds of the approaching storm were starting to drown out the thud of crackling gunfire, and I said nothing more. Instead, I let my work do the talking as I cut through their ranks like I hadn't been sitting on my ass for six months. Muscle memory was a beautiful thing. And I had a new toy to play with, the marvel that was the blade grafted onto my omnitool. The knife that could come out in a split second, just when I needed it, and slice through the gaps in any armour. I made liberal use of it now, the part of me that was an honorary krogan loving the feel of it sinking into flesh as I ripped their squads into pieces. Kaidan wasn't the only one that had picked up a few new tricks along the way.

We fought our way inside, and as soon as the air had filled the elevator I wrenched my helmet off and took a deep breath. It had been a while since I'd worn one with a visor this narrow. I'd almost forgotten how uncomfortable they were, how unnatural it felt for there to be a screen between you and the target.

I turned to Kaidan as he took his helmet off and gave him a harsh look, hoping to burn away whatever suspicions he had, but instead he glared right back and nothing about his stance said he was going to back down.

"Go on," I spat, heat rising to my skin, still prickling with adrenaline, "say it."

"Say what?"

"Say exactly what's on your mind," I insisted, "The reason you're so goddamn suspicious of me, just say it."

He sighed, as though he couldn't believe I even had to ask, "You worked for Cerberus, Shepard, they brought you back to life, how the hell am I supposed to act like that didn't happen? How can I ignore that when their soldiers are right here where you are, after the same thing as the Alliance at exactly the same time?" I gave a sigh and rolled my eyes in exasperation as I turned back to the controls.

"Don't give me that," he snapped, his face stern, "this isn't personal, I'm an Alliance Major, that's why I'm asking."

Bullshit it wasn't personal, I thought. His voice might have let him get away with it, but Kaidan had never had a good poker face, and right now I could read him like a book.

"Then as an Alliance Commander," I seethed, "an N7 agent and a Council Spectre I hope I'm perfectly clear when I say – again – that I don't know why they're here, what they're after, how they got in, who they're reporting to, the mission's codename, hell, I don't even know which cell this is. Did I miss anything out?"

You told them all that I had no reason to lie. You acted like you believed it too, but clearly not enough. You vouched for me when everyone thought I was lying, but you can't even stand up for me now when I need you the most.

"She's telling the truth, Major," James said suddenly, causing Kaidan to look up at him like he'd forgotten the other man was even there, "Shepard's been under surveillance for months, and she was with the Alliance voluntarily." Kaidan gave him a doubtful look, and James shrugged, "Look, all I know is Cerberus are anti-Alliance, and Shepard's with the Alliance now, even though she's got no goddamn reason to be. They've run her name through the mud twice now, but she's still fighting on our side. That's all the proof I need"

I glared at Kaidan, "See that?" I jabbed a finger in Vega's direction, "I've known him for two months. We've barely even spoken, but he still decided to believe me instead of assuming I'm a fucking terrorist! And you, you of all people..." I broke off before it became painfully obvious that this wasn't just business to me either. Swallowing, I squared my face and looked at him with raw anger and determination burning up in my eyes, "Just trust me this time. Please. Because I am done explaining myself to you."

He opened his mouth to respond, closed it with a sigh, and looked at me as though he was trying to understand every part of me in that one glance, as if he could reach into my head and unravel my true motivations just so he could be sure. I understood why he was suspicious, I would be too, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with, especially not coming from him.

"I'm sorry, Shepard," he said at last as the elevator ground to a halt, "it's just that-"

We turned in unison as a loud crash from the next room cut him off. I cocked my gun, gave him a hard stare as I moved past, and told myself that there would be time for all of this later.

oOoOoOo

Kaidan

This was why I'd been unsure about accepting that first promotion to Lieutenant Commander. It was also why I'd been uneasy about commanding my own squad. It wasn't that I hadn't been in charge of soldiers before, or that I couldn't think for myself, it was because right now there was a war in my head between the man I was and the title I held, and I didn't know how to line them up. I wanted to tell her I trusted her, of course I did, that I'd follow her wherever this mission led, however many times I'd have to swallow my suspicions and just believe that she was the woman I'd loved once upon a time, the woman who could still make my heart pound in my chest with a single glance.

But the Major in me insisted I hang back and wait, assess the situation before moving in. It wasn't easy knowing there was no one else you could blame for your mistakes, no one else to pick up the slack because you were the last line of defence. If I trusted her completely, didn't question all the troubling new developments, and it all backfired…there would be no one to blame but me. I was a Major. I was the highest ranking Alliance official on the Normandy. It was my job to be suspicious, to keep her at arms' length and not let my judgement be clouded by the husky sound of her voice over the commlink or the way she still fought like a vicious, demonic whirlwind of bullets, fists and blades.

She had to be vicious, I thought, because the Cerberus soldiers were gunning for her. We could hear them barking her name over their radios, yelling at each other to 'take Shepard down' no matter the cost. It was futile, I thought. No one could take Shepard down, especially not a few unprepared Cerberus troops. Especially not after she'd been locked up for six months and was itching for combat. It would be like trying to hold off a tornado with a cocktail umbrella. She still fought with the same methodical brutality, the same unique mix of light-footed grace and raw, dominating power. None of our enemies even had a chance.

The attachment to her omnitool had made me stop in my tracks the first time I saw it unfold itself from her arm and shatter into pieces as soon as she had finished piercing through the suit of a Cerberus agent, a battle cry ripping from her throat.

As ever, I could have watched her fight all day. Judging by the impressed, muttered curses I'd heard from James, he was a little in awe of her too. It was hard not to be when you were confronted with the best commando the Alliance had ever seen. When we entered a long corridor and saw their agents racing towards us in a tight formation, she came out from cover, took a split second to get her bearings, and fired three careful shots, taking down the three Guardians as the bullets buried themselves between the tiny gap in their shields. There was more to it, of course, but when people asked why Shepard was so good, the most obvious answer was that she had naturally flawless hand-eye coordination, an awareness of every part of her body and how it interacted with the world. In another time, another life, she would have been the perfect dancer.

It had been so long since we'd fought side by side that it was strange to notice that, without realising, we'd fallen into sync with each other, just as we'd used to. We barely needed to communicate, instead I'd look and she would just be there, right where she needed to be, expecting me to have done the same. It was, I thought, just like old times.

But now I was watching her talk to Liara as the asari hacked a console, and I was resisting the urge to listen in because I told myself I had no right, even as the Major in me insisted I should still be keeping an eye on her. I glanced over to where they were, caught Shepard's thoughtful expression, and saw how she spoke to Liara with an openness I hadn't seen from her in…years. She trusted the asari more than she trusted me, and it was my own damned fault and I had no idea how to make it right.

If I could just know for certain one way or the other that she was legit, that she really was who she said she was and that she'd always had her heart in the right place despite all evidence to the contrary…then I could start to rebuild, but not before. I didn't know what it would take for her to prove herself to me. I didn't know why my Alliance uniform wouldn't let me just follow her because that was all I wanted to do. The four months when I hadn't seen her had been hell, and I knew the distance had only made me doubt her more, even if all it had taken was one look from her to remind me that time hadn't dulled what I felt for the woman that had been my Commander.

I checked the perimeter again, saw nothing, and looked back at Shepard just in time to see her turning back to the console, breathing a heavy sigh as though she had the world on her shoulders.

No, I thought, not the world, the galaxy.

She looked up suddenly, a quick glance as though to check I was still there, and seemed surprised when her eyes locked with mine, irises glinting like gold in the bright lights. She paused mid-sentence, her scarred lips pursed in thought, and as soon as she found the words to continue, she looked back to Liara and I was left feeling like a fool because all I could think of was how the stubble at the base of her skull would feel like velvet if I ever got close enough to run my fingers over it, and how I had no right to even think anything like that because she was lost to me. But then she moved over to stand next to me as Liara's fingers clattered on the keyboard, and I felt the air around her shift as she let out a deep breath and relaxed her stance. In the air, I could catch the scent of vanilla, sharp, cold metal and a hint of fire.

Neither of us said a word, we just stood there in a watchful, oddly comfortable silence, simply enjoying the fact that we were both still alive and things were moving forward. I wanted to apologise for what I'd implied earlier, to let her know that, if this was personal, then I'd have trusted her until the end, just like I used to. But now wasn't the time, and there was too much to say and this wasn't the place to say it.

After that little show of solidarity, moving through the facility with her was easier. We were able to talk to each other without snapping in frustration, she even told me, as I eased the helmet from a fallen Cerberus operative, that my idea had been a good one. But then a chill had shot sharply down my spine and I'd heard her fall silent as the drained, hollow face of a husk stared out at us where a human's should have been.

"Holy shit," she breathed, her voice a whisper as she brought a hand up to hover over the greying skin of his cheek, "what did you do?" Was she talking about the man the husk had once been, or the people that had done this to him? She touched the black, protruding veins around his eye sockets, her brows lowered in thought.

I watched as her gaze moved to her own gloved hand on his face, her lips falling open, jaw trembling as though none of her thoughts could order themselves. I saw the ideas slot together before my eyes. This soldier was Cerberus. She was rebuilt by Cerberus, I could picture it perfectly in my head, her lifeless body being sewn back together while she lay there, unconscious. They could have done anything while she was in their hands, things that even Operative Lawson wouldn't have known about. It was becoming clearer and clearer that there were few lengths they wouldn't go to.

"Maybe they were trying to make more of you," I said, remembering the way the voice explaining the Lazerus Project had said they were making her stronger, better, the greatest soldier that had ever lived. Maybe her success had given them ideas.

"What?" she snapped out of her haze and suddenly I was the focus of her razor-sharp gaze.

"You're not all organic material, Shepard, maybe they learned a few things while bringing you back and thought they'd try it out again, just with a few more…enhancements," I chose the word carefully, hoping she'd understand my meaning, but instead she got to her feet and her stance was hostile as ever.

"Don't you dare compare me to that fucking monster!" she seethed, lip curling back in a tooth-baring snarl, "I'm nothing like that thing!"

But if you were, a ruthlessly logical part of me thought, you wouldn't even know about it. You could be a sleeper agent, you could have code in your brain telling you what to do without you ever being aware. It could all be part of their plan. They could use you to bring us all down. There's nothing they won't do.

It hurt, it hurt so much to even think that. It would mean that the woman in front of me, the one I couldn't stand to see in pain, had been violated and reprogrammed and warped against her will. Her eyes were flashing, angry, but there was uncertainty there too, and that made my doubts come creeping back.

"I know that," I said, wanting to believe it, "But it was done by the same people, and they're capable of anything. Hell, Shepard, that's Reaper tech. They could have been working for them this whole time – why else would they be fighting against us?"

"I am not like that thing!" she seethed, but there was fear woven through the fire in her eyes, and it broke my heart to see. I told myself, again and again, that I was talking to Shepard, not Jena. Shepard, the woman who had been handed the fate of the entire galaxy and told to do her best. The woman I had to know I could trust with a task so important, the most vital mission that anyone had ever been on, because there was no one else to pick up the slack if she turned.

"What the hell do you want from me?" she asked, sounding miserable, "You want me to rip open my insides and show you the bits that ain't mine so you can make sure they're not bugged? Because I already did that."

There was nothing but cold, hard truth in her words, and I thought of the woman I'd loved on a Cerberus ship, racked with confusion and paranoia because there was no way to tell how extensive the rebuilding of her body and mind had been. Even watching the video of her reconstruction, I still wasn't sure – Operative Lawson hadn't been in charge of the whole thing, who knew what top secret modifications could have been added behind her back? I saw her now, cracking from the inside, desperate for security and certainty and someone to tell her she was doing the right thing and doing it well.

"I just want…" I paused, wanting to take her hand to show her I cared but knowing it would just make things worse. I wanted to ignore the fact that I was a Major and that I was responsible if she turned out to be spinning lies or taking direction from a chip in her brain, and I wanted to kiss her, give in to how I felt every time I knew she was around. But I was an Alliance soldier through and through. That was the one thing I knew for sure, the one thing I could hold on to and say this was real and good, this meant I was doing the right thing when so much else was uncertain. What did I really want from her? "I just need some way of knowing that you're the same woman I followed to Ilos. Because I'd do it all again, a thousand times over. I just…I need to know."

There was a flash of pain in her eyes at the mention of that planet, and her next words froze on her lips. I realised suddenly that it was the first time either of us had brought up anything to do with that night, or what had happened afterwards, how we'd fallen into each other and fit so perfectly that the only thing that could pry us apart was her death.

Even if parts of her had been lost, her memories were clearly still alive, and they still hurt. I could see it in the way she looked at me, with defiance and a childish sort of scorn where for anyone else there would be total dismissive disbelief that they were even still talking. I hated that I'd ever hurt her. I hated that I still couldn't find the words to tell her how I felt, that I had to hurt her even more now just so I could be sure I wasn't falling into a trap.

"Words won't convince you of that," she said quietly, and I knew she was right.

There was a gap between us, so small. I could have leaned down and kissed her, it would have been the easiest thing in the world. It could have solved almost every problem there was between us, or she could have pushed me back, split my cheek open with her fist and told me not to try that shit with her again. I had no way of knowing, because I'd had my chance to get her back, and I'd chosen caution over passion. I'd fucked up and she'd closed off to me.

She'd taught me what passion really meant in the first place. She'd taught me that caution meant nothing when you lived your life on the edge – all you could do was trust in your own abilities to carry you through even the darkest storms. Caution hadn't landed me in her bed, or in her apartment. Caution hadn't gotten me promoted more in the last year and a half than in my entire career. All of it was because I'd trusted in myself, thrown my worries to the wind and trusted that what I was capable of would be enough.

That was the problem, though. I wasn't sure I was capable of giving her up if I ever got her back again, and I knew I wouldn't be able to look at this objectively as a Major when her deep, amber eyes were staring up at me in turmoil.

"Look," she said suddenly, teeth chewing on her lip for just a moment before she caught herself, "I'm on a mission, here. And I intend to follow through with it. But you don't have to come along. Not if you have this much of a problem with me." She snatched up the helmet from the Cerberus operative and worked at dislodging its communicator.

"It's not that, Shepard," I rubbed at the back of my neck, at my implant itching from the sudden exertion, "It's not you I don't trust, it's them. And I want to believe you, I do, but…don't you get why I can't just take your word for it?"

She pried the communicator loose with more force than was necessary, "I get it," she growled, "but that doesn't mean I want to put up with you second-guessing everything I do because you're pissed at Cerberus for playing with your favourite toy." I opened my mouth to respond, to tell her it wasn't like that even though I knew that was part of it, but she looked up at me sharply and continued, "Oh wait, I forgot, this is just business, right, Major? Nothing personal?"

"Jena—"

"Don't," she snapped, eyes flashing dangerously as she raised a hand to cut me off, "Not now. I can't do this now. Just…just tell me I can trust you to watch my back while we're down here. That's all I need to know."

I shrugged slowly, helplessly, wishing I could snap my fingers and stop time so we could have a moment to ourselves. "I'm with you. I've always been on your side, Shepard. And yeah, I know now isn't the time, but I just want you to know—"

"Delta squad, report!" Her eyes flew to the communicator in her hand as a low, gruff voice barked out over the frequency. She didn't look at me as she brought the mic up to her mouth and spoke a reply. When the voice answered that they would open up the tramways, she gave me the briefest of glances before brushing past to where Liara sat in the next room.

I just want you to know, I thought, that I still care about you as much as I ever did, and that all I want is to keep you safe, even if I can't make you happy.

Maybe it was a good thing I'd been cut off, I thought. She didn't need to hear that, or the rest of it.

It's just…it's hard caring about you so much when I have no idea if you still feel anything for me, and when I know you could turn out to be a timebomb that'll blow up in my face if I'm not careful.

I looked back at the husk, at its cold, dead eyes that had once been human. I thought of Jena's body, cut-up and burned to a crisp on an operating table, the scars now covering her skin that still hadn't quite healed, her beautiful amber eyes that were still so deep and bright and warm. No, I didn't think they were anything alike. In rare moments of total honesty, I knew that the idea that she had some kind of sleeper protocol programmed into her brain wasn't my biggest fear when it came to the woman I'd loved.

Actually, I think I might still be in love with you, and I don't know how to deal with it because you're right in front of me but I'm scared to touch you in case you crumble to dust and it turns out this is all too good to be true, just like before. I can't let you back in because to lose you again would kill me, and now we're in the middle of a goddamn war for the galaxy's very survival and you're at the helm and this is a distraction I know you don't need but God, Jena, I still miss you like hell and I care about you so much it hurts.

I just want you to be safe. I just want you to be happy.

Neither of those were options now. Not now, when Earth was burning and we were fighting through what felt like hundreds of troops just so we could find plans for a weapon that could be our only hope to save anyone.

As always, though. Cerberus had got there first.

And then I saw it with my own eyes, the way she tensed up and spat adrenaline-fuelled fire as soon as she heard the voice of the Illusive Man, the one that had tried to control her and put her at the head of his own personal army. The one she'd left in the dust after stealing his ship and his crew and, apparently, blowing up a hub of priceless alien technology she'd thought too evil to exist.

"You're still short-sighted," he said dismissively, "running scared from the inevitable."

"And you're still deluded!" she snarled, jabbing a finger in his direction, "All this crap you try to feed people about helping humanity, it's all a big fucking lie because I'm right here trying to help humanity by making sure we still have a home planet and you're fighting against me!"

"I'm fighting against ignorance, Shepard," he shot back, "against the ham-fisted methods of you and your precious Alliance, you who would seek to destroy the things you don't understand like fanatics burning books. You will understand one day, just as humanity will understand, that all the steps I have taken are in our best interests. I'm making us better. This is our chance to rise to the top, to the apex of human evolution."

"Oh shut the fuck up!" there was a note of hysteria in her voice, laced with disbelief that she was actually having this conversation, "There's no apex of evolution, you crazy asshole, and if you keep doing this there won't be anything at all because we'll be wiped out! I'm trying to make sure we survive, and you're wasting my time. Don't you get that you're playing right into their hands? They've got you, can't you see that? You spent so much time trying to understand them that they've made you see things their way, just like Saren!"

"Saren was weak and misguided," he said simply, still with an aura of calm that stood in sharp contrast to the way her fists were clenching at her sides. "As are you. You think you have a chance, that you are somehow…relevant. But I made you. You were a tool, an agent with a singular purpose who has outlived her usefulness. You are disposable."

"Is that why I was able to steal the Normandy from under your nose? Go off-mission, take your hand-picked crew and prove you wrong?" His face was suddenly hard, resentful as though she'd proved a point he hadn't been expecting. "I told you once, fall in line or step aside, because if you get in my way I'll—"

"You'll what?" he demanded in the tone of a headmaster long since bored of arguing, "Hurl meaningless threats in the hopes anyone is actually listening?"

Her lip curled back to respond, but at that moment Liara shouted in alarm that someone nearby in the facility was deleting the data we'd come here for. I turned back to the Illusive Man just in time to see a triumphant smirk cross his face as his image fizzled into nothingness. The Cerberus agent was still here.

Shepard swore and broke into a run. I did the same in the opposite direction as we searched every alcove for the source.

I found her first, the doctor we'd seen on the surveillance footage, the Cerberus mole. I knew I should have taken her out as soon as she was in my sights, maybe not a kill shot but at least something to disable her. But shooting an unarmed, unarmoured person in the back when they didn't even know you were there was a line I wouldn't cross, so instead I held my gun tight and barked a warning for her to step away.

Pain lanced across my face as she turned, inhumanly fast, and caught my cheek with the sharp heel of her boot. With another rock-hard blow straight to my stomach I was on the floor, and could barely force enough air into my lungs to alert Shepard as the mole rushed off.

I scrambled to my feet just as Shepard sprinted past me, and the chase was on.

Chapter 22: Memorial – Shepard deals with the aftermath of what happened on Mars, but not well. Kaidan is happy when Shepard comes to visit him, but the distance between them just seems to grow wider.