AN: Forestalling any potential questions about 'how does Sam have an Omnitool and Kinetic Barriers?', the answer to both is simple-he's been in ME-verse for longer than a week. Over thirty years, in fact. Plenty of time to pick up an omnitool and install some eezo cores into his armor. How does he know how to modify Terminator Armor? Again, a simple answer- he's had it for centuries. You don't last very long in the field if you don't know how to clean,repair, maintain, or jerry-rig your equipment, no matter how much of a hissy fit the Mechanicus throws about someone other than them messing with it. Especially since Sam's Chaos- he couldn't give less of a crap what the Mechanicus think.

WARNING: This may be a controversial chapter. It involves the sort of parenting that a former Astartes would provide- few carrots and lots of stick. While of course ultimately well-intentioned, Sam may cross a couple of lines.

Commander Adrian Shepard dreamt.

The computer monitoring his vitals showed no heartbeat or neural activity, but he dreamt nonetheless.

Adrian Shepard was a proud as proud could be. Finally, he was a member of the Navy. This would be the first time he was home in months.

He knocked on the door, and within moments it was open. In the doorframe stood a hulking, scarred form.

"Hi Dad!"

"Hi Adrian. I see you have a new outfit."

"Yup. Navy standard issue."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Come on in."

Adrian narrowed his eyes.

"You know, I was expecting a hug. Or maybe a few tears of joy, or an I'm proud of you, or something."

"If you want hysterics, wait until your Mother gets back from work. She'll be more than emotional enough for the both of us. You want a beer?"

"Dad, I'm only seventeen. I can't have alcohol."

"Only seventeen. You're old enough to be paid to get shot and maimed, but you're such a poor, fragile baby that you need to be protected, at all costs, from taxing your liver slightly. The logic of the Alliance astounds me." Sam lectured, shaking his head.

"It has to do with metabolic rates, not mental maturity."

"I know. Point remains. Bullets and shrapnel are going to have a much greater effect on your 'metabolic rates' than a single beer will."

"I don't plan on getting shot."

"That is literally the exact same words that everyone who has ever held a gun, with no exceptions, has said."

"Our instructor said something similar to that, actually. Only with more swearing." Adrian mused.

"Sounds like a smart guy. So, do you want a beer or not?"

"Sure, I guess. As long as Mom doesn't find out."

"I promise, she won't hear about it from me."

"Thanks."

If someone were to have witness the previous exchange, Adrian knew, they could see his father as a callous, cold-hearted man who couldn't be happy for his son, or even be bothered to pretend to, and who had no trouble pushing alcohol on a minor.

That was not the case.

The beer was a symbol. It said what his words didn't. It said, "I'm proud of you, and from now on, I consider you an adult." The "shot and maimed" rant was his father's way of expressing his worry that his son might go to war and never come back. And, in all honesty, Adrian preferred it that way.

Because that method of voicing his concern was better than the alternative.

Beer long since empty, with Sam not offering another, point having been made, Adrian excitedly chattered about all the lessons and 'adventures' he encountered in basic training. After a couple of hours of Sam listening patiently, he finally raised a forestalling hand.

"Instead of telling me all of this, why don't you show me?"

Adrian all but leaped off of the couch he was sitting on, and almost skipped to the basement door, he was so eager to demonstrate his new abilities.

Hannah, being a career soldier, with Adrian eagerly following in her footsteps, regularly needed to keep in shape. As such, Sam converted a section of the basement into a tiny gym, complete with floor mats.

It was on these the two Shepards stood, Adrian in a fighting stance. Sam just stood there. Sam was obviously assessing his son's form, but made no comment, nor did he assume his own stance.

"Are you ready, Dad?" Adrian asked.

"Yes."

"Okay, if you say so." Adrian said, disbelievingly.

Adrian let loose a flurry of punches, making a great effort to keep them at 'love tap' strength. His Dad was a civilian, after all, and he didn't want to hurt him.

Sam didn't bother blocking any of them. He merely raised an eyebrow.

"It appears I'm going to have to have a word with your instructor. If that was considered 'passable', he is either an incompetent trainer, or is sending you out to die as cannon fodder, so he can't be bothered to waste time training you properly."

"I was going easy on you! I'm not going to use my full strength on a civvie!" Adrian snarled, his ego bruised.

"You need to have Faith, Adrian. Faith in the power of the human soul, one of the most precious commodities there are. The power of a human soul feeds everything you do. If you have enough resolve, it doesn't matter what condition your flesh is in. If you don't have conviction, you are powerless, regardless of training or muscle mass. And that is true for others as well. My will is absolute-you will not harm me." Sam gently lectured.

It was a lecture Sam had given many times. Never in this context, as he had left Adrian's physical education to Hannah.

"Now, try again. And don't hold back this time."

Even with his pride hurting, Adrian wasn't so mad he was going to risk hurting his father. He went through the same set again, at half strength this time.

Again, not even a flinch from Sam, who rolled his eyes. Then, faster than the eye could track, Sam grabbed Adrian by the throat, and squeezed.

"If that was as much conviction as you can muster, I should kill you right now. After all, your mother would greatly prefer having a body to bury, rather than your corpse being forgotten in some ditch on some backwater world. You see, if you go into combat with such a weak will, your gruesome death isn't an if, but a when. And I'd prefer to… what's the phrase? Rip the bandage off quick? That way your mother and I can get started on your replacement, who will hopefully, unlike you, have a spine."

Adrian looked into his father's eyes, pleading with him to let go without saying a word, his father's grip so tight he couldn't utter them.

His father's expression was placid. He might as well have been taking out the trash.

This was it. He was going to die, at the hand of his father, on the day that should have been his greatest triumph. His murder wasn't fueled by a moment's rage, but by a man who should have loved him calmly deciding he wasn't worth the effort of keeping around.

This, needless to say, pissed Adrian off. He mustered what little strength he had left, and let fly with a kick to his father's head. His kick landed straight on the nose, breaking it.

Sam smiled, a river of blood from his nose framing his grin, and gently released his son.

"That's more like it. You see, Adrian, as long as you have the strength and conviction, it doesn't matter how much bigger or stronger your opponent is. You can, at the minimum, bloody their nose. A man with a strong enough soul can strike down daemons and angels as easily as he can a ...varren. So, above all else, remember this- when all other hope is lost, have faith in the human soul. Do not let your fear rule you. Do not lose hope because you no longer have the advantage. As long as your will is unbroken, you will be victorious."

Adrian didn't reply. He looked up at his father, eyes filled with hurt, fury, and betrayal, and scurried upstairs.

Hannah Shepard never found out about that 'sparring match'. She knew they had a falling out, but never knew the cause.

Adrian shipped out the first chance he got, never forgiving his father for that night. That is, until two years later, he got a new mission. Akuze.

They came out of nowhere. Before he could blink, Smith and McNair were...gone. Swallowed whole. Adrian looked up at the towering Thresher Maw, and was filled with hopelessness and dread. Just as he did that day in that basement, where he was convinced his father was going to kill him.

That's when he realized he needed to thank his old man. The fear was there, but he wasn't huddled into a ball and crying like Jones, or paralyzed with terror like Evans. Because he had come face to face with death once before, it was easier to think and move. He steeled himself, brought his rifle to bear, and opened fire.

Everything after that was a blur to Adrian. All he knew is that Jones, Evans, and himself made it out, and that there were five dead Thresher Maws by the time he was done.

All because his father taught him that one lesson. It was a harsh one, to be sure, but one that kept him alive.

He called his father the first opportunity he had, and thanked him.

The power of a human soul feeds everything you do. If you have enough resolve, it doesn't matter what condition your flesh is in. As long as your will is unbroken, you will be victorious. Since then, Commander Adrian Shepard has lived by those words. As he dreamt, they practically rang throughout his very being.

He dreamt of Joker. Liara. Ashley. Kaiden. Garrus. Wrex. He dreamt of Tali.

He dreamt of how they would be forced to fight the Reapers without him.

That was unacceptable.

In a Cerberus research facility, an EKG meter beeped.

AN: No humor in this chapter, sadly. Also, I know a lot of what Sam said in this chapter is more stuff a loyalist would say, but that is, once again, a benefit to him being Alpha Legion- he isn't a diehard believer either way.

Also, I have no intention of glorifying domestic abuse, but it's what was in character. That was as gentle as Astartes get, when they decide someone needs 'tough love'. Especially one that serves Chaos. And Sam really felt he needed to take that lesson seriously.

This chapter was inspired by Angry Joe's Ten Reasons we hate Mass Effect 3's Ending review.

In it, he brings up a good point- Canon Shepard would have never accepted the Reaper AI's circular logic. So why did s/he? Other than the popular 'Shepard was indoctrinated' theory, I came up with one conclusion: The war broke him/her. S/he lost quite a few good friends in short order, and the outcome of the war was doubtful, so Shepard was so worn down by that point that when easy options presented themselves, Shepard just wanted to get it over with, and picked one.

Then I thought: What would an Astartes do, Chaos or otherwise? One thing CSMs and SMs have in common is that they are VERY stubborn, and when presented with a dilemma where there's an easy way out, but they have to compromise, they tell whoever offered the deal to go kiss a Tyranid. And when they're backed into a corner with no way out but through, they go through. And there's no way Sam didn't pass that down to the Commander. Thus, this chapter.