Author's Note: I hope everyone enjoyed the holidays and New Years.

Chapter Seventeen: Impostor

"Welcome aboard the SSV Marathon. It's a Normandy Class frigate, a couple years old, but I can't complain when I get a ship on such short notice," Captain Hannah Shepard's smooth accent allowed the sentence to stray easily from her mouth. She looked quite pleased with her ship despite her words.

The room he'd been led into screamed Alliance. It was small and ugly. What wasn't bare metal was painted white. Four grey couches were screwed into the ground in a rectangular pattern. They were positioned around an equally plain vid screen. Three of the four walls had gray lockers lining them. The South wall contained a medium-sized window into space. A pool table was positioned in the East corner. A ping-pong table was a few feet from it. Efficient, but visually repulsive. The Hallmark of Alliance vessels. "It's a beautiful ship, Captain, but may I ask where we plan on going?" Feron replied. The less time he stayed on the ship, the better.

"We're headed to the Citadel. Estimated time of arrival is just under nine hours," Captain Shepard said lazily.

She was surprisingly funny and laid back for an Alliance officer, a stark contrast to the officers that seemed to be permanently pissed off. Feron supposed it was because she was off duty. Or maybe that was just the way she was.

Another equally surprising observation revolved around her general demeanor. She was still in mourning, that much was apparent, but she didn't really do anything to indicate that she was. She just simply was. There was an air of sadness that clung to her. It became increasingly evident when there was a lull in conversation. The asari was the same way, though her sadness was practically being broadcasted with neon lights.

"You're not what I expected, Feron," Hannah suddenly said.

"What did you expect, Captain?" He asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Asshole with morals that revolve around money. I thought I was going to have to gun you down back there, but your change of heart is admirable," she said. Her words were genuine, and for the first time in a long time Feron felt the gnawing sensation of guilt.

…

Liara had to look, she just did. Talking herself out of it was no use. It was unfair to Colt to look. He deserved to be remembered as full of life and laughter. Still, she couldn't pass up the chance. Liara wanted to know what she was burying.

She stood up and made her way out of the parlor. Feron and Hannah were sitting in the corner, talking. Always talking. How could they be so calm? How could they be so in control?

She nodded to Hannah before going through the parlor doors. The Marathon's corridors weren't friendly, they were functional. Not that she minded. She was just passing through. She went through one and then another before reaching what was essentially a glorified closet.

The room could only fit her plus Shepard comfortably. Room was tight on spaceships. She knew that. It was still uncomfortable and less than ideal.

Liara only had five minutes to look before he would start to deteriorate. That was fine. That was more than enough.

She knelt to the ground and inspected the casket. It was pressure sealed, but that was no problem. It was easy enough to release the seals. Even getting the lid off was simple.

Just like that it was open. Just like that it was real. There was no turning back.

His legs had been cut off sometime during his ascent into the Alchera atmosphere. They were on either side of his torso. His right arm was completely gone, while half of his left was missing. His iconic red and white stripe couldn't be seen, but that was probably because it had been burned off. His black armor was partially melted, but mostly intact. Dried blood covered almost every inch of his body. His head seemed to be intact despite being completely disconnected from his neck.

The damage done to his body was less extensive than she thought it would be. Still awful. Still shocking. But not as bad as she had imagined.

Throwing up crossed her mind. Not as an option. The idea was more nagging than an option. In fact, she wondered why she didn't throw up. She wondered why she didn't feel much. There was nothing. And that surprised her. At the very least, she thought she'd throw up.

All that was left was his seemingly untouched helmet. Liara reached for it with weirdly steady hands. When she pulled at it, she was met with resistance. It had to be his oxygen hose. Nothing else would cause such resistance. After disconnecting the oxygen hose, she finally pulled the helmet off of Shepard's head.

It wasn't him.

It was Ensign Vincent Wellington.

…

"Captain, you've experienced so much. I can't say-," Feron replied before being cut off by the swishing of a nearby door. After the door closed, he continued softly, "Hello, Doctor T'Soni. The Captain and I were just discussing y-."

"Where is he?" Liara growled while swooping out of the door dangerously. Her legs carried her forward confidently, eagerly even. Shit was about to go down.

"I'm afraid you'll have to clarify, friend," The Drell said. He straightened himself up and drew his body together.

The asari went still for a moment. Nothing happened for a perfect second. Then Liara lept forward suddenly. Blue waves originated from her twisting feet before launching themselves out of her hands. Her biotics swept a few inches from Hannah and caught Feron easily. The drell tumbled effortlessly through the air before slamming into the ship's metal walls. Liara stalked towards the trapped man with a nasty glint in her eyes.

"Fuuuuuck," Hannah exclaimed. She pushed herself up from her chair, allowing her shitty coffee to slosh onto her. Fuckin A. "Liara?! What the HELL are you doing?" What the fuck was Liara thinking. Feron was fine.

"It's not Colt, Hannah! It's an Ensign from the Normandy, but it sure as hell isn't Shepard," she rumbled. Liara's whole body shook with rage as she spoke. Blue cackled around her with anger, lapping at anything close to the asari.

It occurred to Hannah that she had never seen Liara angry before. She had seen her sad before, but not angry. In fact she had thought Liara incapable of anger.

"Are you sure?" Hannah heard herself say the words, but she wasn't entirely sure she had said them. Maybe it was someone who shared the same exact voice.

"Kinda' hard to forget. Go look for yourself. I can handle him," Liara snarled at Feron, her eyes never leaving his face. The only way to be sure was to look.

Finding the casket was easy; looking inside was hard. Liara was extremely bright, even more so than Hannah, but she still couldn't quite believe that her son wasn't the one occupying the casket. Dread filled her soul at the thought of looking at her son's mutilated head; it had to be done though. Hannah sucked in a breath, released the pressure seals, and looked into the face of a stranger. He was not her son, he was not Colt.

Was drell blood green?

…

"Smear the bastard!" Hannah shouted. She walked in again with an icy expression and deadly intent.

"I would agree with you Captain, but he's the only one who knows where Colt is," Liara pointed out. She'd had time to cool off and consider their situation. If they killed Feron, they'd never find Colt.

"Fuck, you're right," Hannah spat. She stalked up to Feron and scrutinized him, probably deciding how to kill him. That thought didn't bother Liara in the slightest.

"You're going to take us to Colt's body or I will personally rip your throat out. Is that understood?" The Captain said. Feron nodded his head up and down as best he could while being trapped by biotics.

"Let him out," she told the asari. Liara's biotics receded and dropped him harshly to the ground.

Their new destination was now Alchera. Again.

…

Alchera had lost its beauty. Now Liara could only look around disgusted. It was just a snow filled obstacle.

"Alright Feron, where is he?" The Captain's voice was deceptively calm. Liara had no doubt that Hannah could kill with her pinky finger.

"It is better if I take you… But first you must promise me that I won't be harmed," Feron said. He was a liar, but he wasn't dumb.

"Fine, I give you my word. But if we find that it isn't Colt… Well, I don't think you'll enjoy that outcome," Hannah's menacing growl made Liara eternally grateful that she wasn't Feron.

"How can I trust your word?" He asked. If Hannah's glare was any indicator, Feron was about a word from getting his tongue cut out.

"You can't," the human said.

If Liara hadn't known better, she would've thought that Hannah was going to shoot him anyway. She wouldn't, not if he came through. If Liara had learned one thing, it was that the Shepards had honor.

"Follow me," the drell said.

The path that Feron took them on was quite complex. Liara had lost track of how many turns they'd taken. She sincerely hoped that Feron knew what he was doing because there was no way Liara knew the way back. He led them far away from the initial site of the Normandy and into a white desert. Hannah kept glancing back nervously, probably thinking that Feron was going to leave them to die in the middle of Alchera.

"How much longer?" Hannah asked commandingly.

"We will be there in five minutes," he answered. Feron looked over his shoulder and glanced between Liara and Hannah. "You look worried. Don't. We're not lost. Drell's have perfect memories. I could trace this same route fifty years from now," he said. What he said was true. Liara still didn't find that little fun fact very comforting.

The fact of the matter was that Feron had the upper hand. He could do a million a things to ditch or kill them. They were limited to a handful of effective offensives. They couldn't even kill him if something went wrong lest they be lost.

Every part of her told her this was a bad idea. Every step she took was reluctant. But she wasn't about to stop. It was a very odd state of existence.

In exactly five minutes Feron stopped. He said nothing while pointing at a piece of sheet metal. Liara looked at Hannah for advice, but the Captain just shrugged and walked towards the metal.

"Liara, help me lift this metal," Hannah said after carefully inspecting Shepard's alleged resting place. The asari walked over carefully and took her place next to the Captain. "Can you just use your biotics?" Hannah asked. Liara nodded and sent a wave of biotics at the metal. The sheet metal flew a couple feet away and landed with a loud thud.

Underneath was a similar casket to the one Ensign Wellington had been in. The two women looked at each other and a silent understanding transpired. Liara would open it. No mother should have to do that. She nodded to Hannah and knelt to the ground. She released the pressure seals before shoving the lid off. For the second time that day, Liara was opening the casket of Commander Shepard.

This body was in much worse condition. Both of Shepard's legs were broken off from his torso. No doubt from landing feet first on Alchera's surface. The heat had melted the armor on his legs almost completely off. There was a real possibility that the supposed Shepard didn't have flesh up to at least his knees. Both of his arms were there but they missed fingers. All of his armor was either melted onto him or gone. Chunks of flesh were missing from the places without armor. The most notable missing section was a piece of his right torso. Like the Ensign, his head was completely disconnected from his neck. Despite this, his chest and head looked to be the most intact. The red and white stripe had been melted off and Liara grew suspicious that this was yet another fake Shepard. The only way to tell was to take off his helmet.

Hannah was looking away when Liara reached for the helmet. It was for the best. The asari encountered little resistance as she pulled off his helmet. There wasn't any hissing as there usually was with a pressurized suit.

It was Colt. The rest of his body was a mess but his head was in pristine condition with only minor scarring on his face. Some blood covered his face but he was easily recognizable. If she hadn't known he was already dead, then Liara would have thought that he was sleeping.

She slid his helmet back on and attached the pressure seals again. Hannah looked towards her and she nodded. Relief filled Hannah's face for a second before being replaced by something else.

Something heart wrenching and full of despair.

"Marathon to ground team, ground team do you read?" a voice sounded in Liara's helmet, momentarily startling her.

"We read you Marathon, what's the sitrep?" Hannah answered back.

"There is an unidentified ship heading our way. Their ETA is fifty minutes. It's recommended that you head back immediately," The Marathon crew member said back.

"Understood, heading back now. Be advised we have a prisoner incoming," Hannah stopped and looked at Feron. "Prepare the brig."