Disclaimer: Mass Effect is copyright of Bioware. Many of the characters contained herein—Shepard included—are property of Bioware. Shepard is partially of my forging, since I could imagine his background and actions during his military career. The sequence of events and their outcomes are property of Bioware. The interpretations of the events are my own. Ci-Ci is mine. Please do not repost this story or any parts of it herein. Always give credit where it is due. I owe the Mass Effect Wiki a great deal for helping me figure out timelines, details, and other such things.

I welcome constructive and/or encouraging reviews/critiques. Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

10 May 2185—Human Embassy, Presidium Ward, the Citadel, Serpent Nebula

Anderson braced himself. Joker had warned him that Shepard wouldn't be sociable ("You'd better watch out, Admiral. The Commander lost his self-control somewhere between life and death and is going to go kamikaze on anything that annoys him"). The Council wasn't happy. They'd gotten wind that Shepard was now working for Cerberus. They wanted to keep his return quiet, if possible, but with how he was acting, it wouldn't be for long.

Shepard stalked in. He wore Cerberus armor. His facial scars glowed like embers. He looked more dangerous than ever.

"Commander. You…" Anderson didn't know how to continue. Shepard looked like he'd walked out of Hell itself. "It's good to see you."

Shepard nodded coldly. "I want to talk to the Council."

"They'll be calling shortly."

Shepard narrowed his eyes.

"They heard you're working with Cerberus," Anderson explained. "They aren't happy."

"I wonder how that news got out," Shepard muttered sarcastically. He went to the balcony and leaned against the railing, looking over the Presidium. It hadn't changed one bit.

Anderson joined him. "You think it was leaked?"

"Of course it was. The Illusive Man wouldn't keep his new toy a secret."

"Care to explain to me why you're with Cerberus?"

"Because Ci-Ci didn't accept their offer to work for them."

"I don't follow."

"She could have found me, but she refused, so Cerberus did instead. They brought me back and she didn't do a damn thing to help."

"Calm down, Commander."

Shepard gripped the railing, knuckles turning white.

"I saw her at the funeral," Anderson murmured. "I don't know how she was still standing. I've never seen anyone so shattered."

"You aren't helping."

Before Anderson could say anything else, the Council called. "Commander Shepard," the salarian councilor began. Shepard left the balcony and stood before the holos, arms crossed and fuming. "We haven't been hearing good things," the councilor continued. "Cerberus?"

"My duty hasn't changed. I will accomplish it by any means necessary," Shepard answered levelly. "Right now Cerberus are the only ones who believe the Reapers are a threat."

The asari councilor frowned. "This isn't wise."

"Then reinstate my Spectre status so I can spy on them for you. I won't hesitate to kill every last one of those bastards if they cross me."

The turian councilor's mandibles twitched into something resembling a smile. "If we do this, you will be responsible to us."

Shepard didn't move.

The Councilors exchanged looks. "Very well," the asari said. "We will reinstate you. Don't forget that you represent more than humanity, Commander."

He nodded and ended the transmission before they could give him a lecture.

"Old habits die hard?" Anderson mused.

Shepard shrugged.

"How are you doing?"

Shepard rolled his eyes. "How do you think?" For once, he wasn't being antagonistic. Anderson was a friend—or, at least, an ally. A real ally, not using him. "It's…"

"So you heard about Ci-Ci?"

"Yeah…" Shepard closed his eyes, dismissing images of her brutal death. "I heard."

"It's not supposed to be easy," Anderson murmured, putting a hand on Shepard's shoulder, "but it had to happen." Anderson, in a rare moment of oversight, assumed that Shepard knew Corinthia lived. The Commander had, according to his report, been back for a month. Corinthia wouldn't have lasted that long without saying something. Anderson was one of the few people who understood just how deep the connection between the two lieutenant commanders went. He had only ever seen them show their affection once, but it had been enough. Shepard didn't half-ass anything and Corinthia was one of the more guarded people Anderson had ever met. They wouldn't have started a relationship lightly. "It's only temporary."

Shepard snorted. He doubted that his rage would ever leave him; it was all he had left and he'd hold on to it for as long as he could.

"I should go," he said after a moment.

"The Alliance is going to try and get you back."

"With all due respect, sir, fuck them. I have a job to do."

As the Commander turned to leave, Udina walked in. "Commander Shepard," he greeted huffily.

"Meeting's over," Shepard growled.

"Anderson!" Udina roared.

"It's not my fault they made a decision without you," Anderson replied, smirking. The Admiral and the Human Councilor had never liked one another and, especially after how Anderson knocked Udina out to help Shepard steal the Normandy, their relationship had only worsened. "They called early and didn't wait for you."

His business finished, Shepard shoved his way past Udina.

"I want to talk to you, Commander!" Udina called.

Shepard didn't stop; Udina wasn't even worth the energy of flicking off.

Outside, Garrus was sitting on a bench, watching the various people walk by. "How'd it go, Commander?"

"I got their permission to kick ass," Shepard answered.

Garrus chuckled. "I'm glad that you've got at least one thing going for you. I tried my hand at the Spectres. Didn't make it." He touched his face thoughtfully. "Guess I really didn't have what it took."

"Ci-Ci's face looked worse than yours and she made it in."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"Were you expecting me to call her beautiful?"

"I just assumed, but now that you mention it, I'd be surprised if you ever said that, either." Garrus stood. "Mordin went to take samples of the water or something like that. I can't understand a word that he says… It's like listening to Ci-Ci, when I first met her."

Shepard stiffened. He could only stand to talk about her so much before he would just... snap, and that threshold was rapidly approaching. Of all the things he could do, dealing with powerful emotions was not one of them. The Illusive Man's revelations had added confusion to the already boiling mix of feelings that Shepard was experiencing. He needed to do something straightforward, simple, and emotionless. Killing counted.

Garrus checked for eavesdroppers before murmuring,. "Are you sure about this, Shepard? Cerberus doesn't have the best track record, especially with you."

In reality, Shepard wasn't sure about anything. He was hiding behind rage and hatred to hide his uncertainty and pain. "They're a means to an end," he said after a moment. "I'll drop them when I don't need them."

"Well, you stole the Normandy once..."

"They built it. They'd just find it again. I'd need someone to do a sweep of the entire thing, pull the plug on EDI..." Shepard shook his head. "I took the Normandy before because the entire crew was loyal to me. This isn't the case. Hell, Garrus, I don't even know if you'll follow me where I'm going."

Garrus shrugged. "We'll see, Commander. A lot's changed."

"Tell me about it."

Garrus smiled. "Remember when we got drunk with Alenko?"

"What about it?"

"Just thinking about the old days. It's never going to be like that again, is it?"

"No. We're too fucked up."

"Yeah... Think we should start a club?"

"You're already on the crew. Same thing."

Mordin came over, muttering to himself. "Commander. Vakarian. Sorry. Had to check on something. Important research. Got distracted in Prothean art gallery. Nice pieces. Heavy human Greek influence. Expensive. Decadent. Wouldn't fit on Normandy."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Shepard demanded.

"Though I had seen... Irrelevant. Past. Unsubstantiated opinion. No facts."

Shepard rolled his eyes. "Back to the docks. We still have to meet that thief."

Warehouse, Zakera Ward, the Citadel

Kasumi snuck past the guards, her eyes on her target: the statue of Saren. Even though she had bought and paid for it, there just wasn't any fun in picking it up and bringing it to the Normandy. Ariadne left it up to Kasumi to rake it in whatever manner she wanted.

So, the master thief chose to steal her purchase.

Ariadne didn't make it easy. There was a lot of art poaching in the Citadel, where black market dealers stole from legitimate ones. Ariadne had avoided being a target by having better security than C-Sec and traps. LOTS of traps.

Kasumi, having broken in nearly ten times before, knew the routines, patrol routes, and general placement of the tripwires, false doors, and various other deceptive items. She also knew her way into the safe, where the art was stored. Ariadne didn't have the hardest safe to hack (because that would look suspicious), but it was enough to dissuade anyone but the best.

Kasumi would have had no problem getting through the safe door, even if she hadn't known Ariadne and hadn't had direct access to voice samples, DNA, and other things to disengage locks. Kasumi slipped into the safe. Every time she stepped inside, she took a moment to absorb everything. Ariadne's collection was magnificent. She had paintings from the greatest artists Earth ever produced, turian sculpture (almost impossible to obtain or see off of their home planet, Palaven), ancient Greek reliefs, asari statues… The thief had high-class tastes. It took every part of her self-control to only take the statue of Saren. Kasumi made a list of things to buy (and subsequently 'steal'), her eye specifically on a relief depicting the rage of Achilles over Iphigenia's death, before smuggling Saren out.

Within five minutes of putting the statue on the Normandy, Kasumi's omni-tool beeped. "Hello, Ariadne," she greeted.

"I see you got through in record time."

"You should update your passcodes. They're cycling again."

"I'll keep that in mind, but I can't afford to update my security every time you get through."

Kasumi shrugged. "It's just a suggestion."

"You also know that you're the only one who has ever gotten in, right?"

"Of course. You should see this place."

"I'll be fine, thanks."

Kasumi raised an eyebrow. "You sound distracted."

"Just saw someone… Nevermind. Anything you saw that you wanted?"

"A few things. Your collection's improved. That relief of Iphigenia and Achilles…"

"Don't even think about it."

"Ooh, so it has sentimental value."

"You have no idea," Ariadne muttered.

"I thought you didn't put anything valuable in there."

"Kasumi!" Shepard barked. "What the fuck is that doing here?"

"I have to go," the thief muttered, cutting the transmission.

On the other end, Ariadne stiffened. That had sounded like… No, it wasn't possible. He was long gone. It was too gruff to be him. Too cold. Too… It wasn't him.

She ran her fingers through her hair, combing out the tangles. She was on Illium, visiting Liara before going to a remote sector on Spectre business. The asari raised an eyebrow. "Are you alright? You look pale."

"Fine," Ariadne murmured.

"I thought you said that Kasumi did that all the time."

"It wasn't that."

"Yes, I heard it, too. You don't think…"

"No, I don't," Ariadne answered quickly. "But, back to business."

Liara nodded. "I have what you requested." She frowned. "I don't like this mission. I acquired the information too easily."

Liara had been tracking down the Collectors for Ariadne, only to find them working on Illium.

Ariadne shrugged. "That just means that they're on to me."

"Which means that they might know what really happened to you." Liara put her hand on Ariadne's shoulder. "Please, be careful."

Ariadne smiled coldly. "I'm always careful. Thanks for this." She left without another word.

Araidne had always liked Illium. It reminded her of Elysium, before it was destroyed: skyscrapers, purple and orange horizon, the rich living in the upper levels while the thieves and poor scrounged near the surface… Ariadne took a deep breath, only to cough furiously. Something about the pollution on Illium always gave her allergies. It annoyed her—as she tended to sneeze at the worst moments—but there was nothing she could do about it, not now; she'd already changed more than she wanted to by getting rid of her scars.

She stretched and headed to the docks. She'd acquired her own transport shortly after she left the Alliance, giving her the flexibility she needed to maneuver. She bought a piece of junk and customized it from the inside out. Not being a mechanic or having any training of the kind, she had made more than her fair share of mistakes with the machinery, especially because she tried to mimic the Normandy's silent drive core. She'd miscalculated the drive's effect on fuel consumption, so she'd lost all power a couple times at inopportune moments, not to mention almost fried the ship computer by linking it to her omni-tool and trying—and failing—to hack into one of Cerberus's unhackable quantum entanglement transmissions (such as the Illusive Man used to communicate with Shepard and the Normandy). Over the last year, she'd fixed most of the glitches, but the thing was still finicky and had yet to have a consistent power draw. She called it the Constance.

She went into the cockpit, starting the engines and heading to the other side of Illium. In all honesty, she wasn't sure what she was going to do. She made it her business to stop the Collectors, Cerberus, and Shadow Broker at every turn, so she went after them whenever she had any kind of lead. She still had no idea why the Collectors had come after her and she intended to find out. They'd wanted her alive. She shuddered, thinking about what they would have done to her if they'd managed to capture her.

Her memory flashed to her escape. Even though she'd hid amongst the Shadow Broker agents, she had remained on the derelict Reaper for another twelve hours before departing. Her memory of what happened was vague and spotty, but she knew that something had changed in her… She just didn't know what and she intended to find out.

15 May 2183—Slaver Stronghold, Illium, Tasale System, Crescent Nebula

Corinthia watched from the rafters as the Collectors examined human slaves. One of the creature's eyes glowed orange, just like the one who'd called itself Harbinger.

"We'll take them all," Harbinger said. "And we'll pay you ten thousand."

The dealer, a batarian, snorted. "I can get fifty elsewhere."

"Their minds are broken. They are useless to anyone."

The batarian stroked one of the slave girl's cheeks. "I wouldn't say that."

"We have no use for such things. Ten thousand."

"Forty."

"Ten."

"Thirty."

Corinthia dropped to the ground. "Nothing."

The batarian rounded on her. "Who the hell are you?"

She didn't answer. Her eyes were locked with Harbinger's. Quick as lightning, she drew her pistol and shot the batarian between the eyes. The Collector backed away, raising its weapon to fire. Her omni-tool flared to life, crackling with electricity as she put her palm against the monster's chest and electrocuted it. Its eyes dulled just before it died. Another Collector slowly rose into the air, body tensing as it glowed orange.

"Assuming control," Harbinger growled.

Corinthia moved quickly, dodging into cover. Her mind was focused on one thing alone: destroying the enemy. She switched her pistol for her shotgun and a grenade.

The Collectors advanced slowly. "Bring her alive," Harbinger ordered.

She wasn't thinking. She couldn't think. She rolled out of cover, tossing the grenade at Harbinger's feet and shooting the other Collectors in the heads. They flew back from the force of the impact, bodies decaying and floating apart like crushed leaves in smoke.

Shouts echoed in the room as the batarian's slaver compatriots joined the fray. She deftly dispatched them with her pistol and omni-tool (the latter via incineration and electrocution; not pretty).

The slaves screamed, muttering inanely. Corinthia suddenly gasped and blinked. "What the hell…?" she breathed, examining the damage. She remembered locking eyes with Harbinger, but that was it. By the looks of the bodies, Shepard had come by and killed everything in his path. But he wasn't there; she was.

"Did I do this?" she asked one of the slaves.

He nodded, continuing his muttering. "He must help the masters. Put back the purples and the reds. Then they won't punish him…"

Corinthia clenched a fist. Batarians did everything in their power to break the wills of their slaves, leaving them with an odd form of Stockholm Syndrome and unable to speak in the first person because they thought themselves to be animals, not people or individuals. There was nothing she could do for them other than call the authorities and hope that they could be rehabilitated.

Corinthia knelt by the Collectors to scan their bodies. Though she had no idea what she was going to do with the data, she needed to learn more about her enemy.

"C'mon, there's got to be something…"

Her omni-tool froze, shuddered, and changed interfaces. A squid-like machine appeared, floating eerily. "A Reaper…?"

"I am Harbinger," it said. "You wish to find me, here I am."

She wanted to end the transmission, but she couldn't bring herself to. "Who said I was looking for you?"

"You were in the body of one of my brothers. You hunt my workers. You have been… touched by what you have seen."

She remained silent.

"You have felt it, have you not? A voice whispering, showing you the truth. You know more about us than those before you. You have seen the damage we can do. You know that we cannot be defeated."

"We destroyed Sovereign."

"He was but one of thousands. Your pathetic race cannot continue. Do not fight us. We have uses for the strong of will and mind."

"Like Saren."

"He saw the truth."

"Like when he killed himself in the end?"

"He became weak. You will not. You are strong."

Corinthia closed her eyes, trying to calm her mind. Against her will, images flashed of the last Reaper invasion.

"Join us. You will be spared the fates of the masses."

She saw herself leading an army of geth and husks through the wreckage of the Citadel to a chorus of screams, shouts, and explosions. She looked like a Valkyrie, come to gather the spirits of the dead. Her eyes blazed, flashing bright blue like Saren's, and she moved faster than the regular humans. Nothing could stand in her way. She was invincible.

"You cannot fight us," Harbinger continued. "The change has already begun in you. You cannot resist for much longer. No one ever can."

Corinthia tried to clear her mind, but the images kept returning.

"This is your destiny."

She was weak; she always had been. Shepard had always had to come and bail her out. She couldn't beat Saren, and he had given in to the Reapers. She wasn't strong enough to fight them.

"Your will is bending. I can sense it."

Maybe she could give in, learn her enemy's ways and use that knowledge to fight them from within. It was a possibility….

"Join us. Together we can bring the galaxy to its knees."

An answer hovered on the tip of her tongue. Then she remembered Shepard. He would never give in, no matter how weak he felt. He would fight against all odds until he won or died trying. He had died trying. If there was a body in his grave, he'd be rolling in it just because she considered the option.

If he were there, he would've cut off the transmission, trashed the omni-tool, and blown up the building for good measure.

But she wasn't Shepard. No one could ever be him but himself, and he was dead.

"You cannot fight me."

Corinthia opened her eyes. "Fuck you." She ripped her omni-tool off her arm, threw it on the ground, and stomped it into pieces.

But the whispers didn't stop.