Author's Note: Why is the quote "Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy," by F. Scott Fitzgerald, so perfect for not just Colt Shepard, but every Shepard?

Chapter Twenty Six: Poker Party

Is that how humans behaved? Take what they wanted from one another, without thinking? Use others for personal gain? Colt couldn't quite wrap his mind around Jacob's dad's actions. All those innocent people turned into slaves. Forced to live like animals. If they somehow managed to survive, their lives were effectively ruined.

All Alliance members were taught that it was the commanding officer's job to watch over subordinates. To put those under their command first. Captain Taylor was a disgrace of an Alliance officer. The very worst humanity had to offer. It was sickening.

Shepard almost broke Captain Taylor's neck. He could have. He could've snapped his spine without even trying. But Colt was better. He was nothing like Ronald Taylor. He would never let himself fall that far again.

Like that wasn't enough, Colt had to pull himself from that horrible scene only to be led into Jack's personal hell. He thought two years on the street would be hard to beat for shittiest childhood, but Jack may have taken the cake. It turned out Jack's uncivilized manner had a reasonable origin. The tiny rooms and awful conditions on Pragia sent shivers down his spine. Poor Jack. Holy fuck. At least he'd been able to convince her to spare Aresh's life. She didn't have to be what happened to her.

Afterwards, Colt told her that he was proud of her for rising above. She didn't say anything but she seemed thankful he'd said something.

The Illusive Man told him he had nothing to do with it, and Shepard believed him, but if he did…it was open season.

It'd been a couple of days since all the members were recruited. Some of the missions were fulfilling, some were scary, and none were particularly easy. Colt just couldn't catch a break.

He was heading down to engineering to talk to Tali. Hopefully speaking with her would be a nice distraction. In fact, he wanted to do something with the whole crew as a sort of group distraction. The constant missions were taking a toll on everyone.

"Hey Tali, what's up?" He asked. The young Quarian was typing something scientific and boring in her terminal.

"Nothing much, just getting used to the Normandy again," Tali said, glancing at him. Colt couldn't help but feel proud of her. She'd done so much in her life and remained true to herself. She was a remarkable person who Colt was lucky to know. He was incredibly happy that she'd chosen to rejoin him.

"Well, I was thinking about doing something with the whole crew, but I've come up with nothing. Any ideas?" He said.

Donnelly answered, "I've been itching for some Skyllian Five, Commander. Anyone else?"

"Kenneth, you can't just interrupt one of the Commander's most senior members," Gabby scolded. Shepard couldn't wait until they realized their feelings, and not because he had creds riding on them getting together or anything.

"It's alright. That actually sounds like a great idea. We'll have a Skyllian Five Poker Party. Hell, add some Turian-friendly liquor and we'll get enough blackmail material from Garrus to buy all the engineering upgrades," Shepard said. He could quite easily picture Garrus stumbling around with an unknown object glued to his face. "Alright guys, you gather everyone, while I get materials."

...

"Damn, Shepard. You won again?" Donnelly was staring intently at his cards like they would somehow magically get better. "How do you do it?"

"When you have to talk to politicians and military officials, you develop a great poker face," Shepard replied happily, counting the creds he'd just won. He looked up and discovered the rest of his crew looking around sadly. Losing sucked. "Don't worry guys, I'll break out the booze," Colt said. The mood in the room visibly perked up.

In the minutes it took to break out the cases of alcohol, the crew lined up at the lounge's bar. Kasumi was doing her thing and whipping up delicious drinks quickly. Thane and Samara where the only two who held back. Someone turned on music and the volume rose to a roar.

A couple minutes in and a makeshift dance floor had been cleared. Somehow Garrus got pushed into the circle and off he went. The awful realization that Gar-Bear was actually good hit Colt about thirty seconds in, and for the rest of his dance, Shepard could only stare in horror. He thought Garrus was going to be awful. He depended on the turian to reason with his own horrendous dancing.

Next up was Miranda, and she wasn't bad either. Good God. Shepard needed to get very drunk before he danced. It would be his excuse. He started slamming them back before his turn came around.

About twenty minutes later and an impressive amount of alcohol, it was Shepard's turn. The only little problem in his otherwise foolproof plan was that he wasn't drunk. Maybe a little tipsy but nothing remarkable. This was...unexpected. Miranda said a lot had changed physically. But losing the ability to drink? Colt couldn't help but feel robbed. His life rotated around stressful missions and foggy shore leaves. Getting drunk was the official pastime of the Alliance. It was stupid but he couldn't help but think about how this added to his otherness. He wasn't really human anymore. Everyone else in the galaxy had a firm understanding of who they were. They were krogan, asari, turian, salarian, drell, whatever. Colt couldn't say the same. He truly was alone in this one.

Colt shook his head and forced himself to focus on the superficial - making his crew laugh. He was last to dance and everyone knew. People lined up around the dance floor in anticipation of the coming trainwreck. Everyone had danced and everyone was good. Now he had to ruin their dancing sensibilities.

The room was silent as he stumbled towards his destination. He was an experienced drunk; he could fake it. The music started playing and his body started flapping around. He always felt awkward dancing, and now his awkwardness was on display. He thought he saw someone filming his heroic try, but was to focused on maintaining his drunken lie to know for certain.

The song ended, and the room still remained silent. Shepard looked everyone in the eye and said, "You're welcome." He then proceeded to walk to the couch and fall into it face first. Fuck Cerberus.

…

Liara was leaving her office for the day when she heard the message charm go off on her data pad. She opened her messages and saw something from Garrus.

Dear Liara,

I recorded this gem earlier and thought you might appreciate it.

0:00-4:43 Commander Shepard Dance

In case you don't have enough time to watch it I highlighted some key parts.

1:15-1:31 Shepard loses all control and seems to be entranced by his own awkward body.

2:27 -3:04 Shepard almost falls down. I can't tell if this is from how drunk he is or if this is part of his dance.

4:31-4:43 Shepard actually believes that he did well. Even takes the time to bow.

Liara, this is the person you have a romantic attachment to. Think about that.

Garrus

…

Shepard stopped at an Illium bar mid-party. It was dimly lit, seedy as all hell, and still somehow nicer than all of Omega. There was a circular bar in the center, the most popular style of bar at the moment, and inside the bar was a higher platform that had vid screens attached to it. A thick haze of smoke and sorrow hung over the entire place like a depressing little cloud. If Colt's own mood was any indicator, this was where happiness went to die.

He'd come in because he honestly had no idea where to get drinks by the ton on Illium. He figured the bartender would know. His crew ran out of drinks half way through the party, so he made the decision to do a quick dash to Illium to resupply. He also hoped that he might be able to convince Liara to join the festivities.

"What can I do- hey you're Commander Shepard aren't you?" The Batarian bartender had been cleaning glasses, but leaned in closer. All of his eyes were on Colt, sending a familiar chill ran up his spine. He shook the creeping hatred and reminded himself that not all Batarians were the same.

"Yes, I am, but I was wondering where I could get a lot of liquor on Illium. Like a lot. See I'm having this small party and we ran out..." Shepard was interrupted before he could explain further.

"Ah yes, I know of several good places to get LOTS of alcohol. Let me give them a call and have them prepare a couple cases for you. Sound good?" The Batarian said pleasantly.

"That would be very kind of you - thanks," Shepard said. He turned to go wait in the back of the bar.

"Wait, I would be a fool to let the Savior of the Citadel walk away without a free drink." The Batarian was already pouring a delicious looking drink.

"Well, that's very nice of you. Thank you," Colt replied. He beamed at the bartender before he sipped on the surprisingly good drink.

"My pleasure," The Batarian replied back. A sinister smile crossed his face for an instant. Colt blinked a few times and dismissed it as paranoia.

He'd been waiting about five minutes for the Batarian to come back with news on his drinks when he started to feel restless. Colt started to pace around, but the need to sprint was almost overwhelming. People kept glancing at him as he started to walk quicker and quicker until he was almost jogging. The weird part was that he could feel drool dripping down his chin, but every time he wiped it away, more came.

Where the hell was he? He knew he was in a bar, but beyond that, nothing. As an N7 operative, he'd been trained to recognize when something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong. How much of that drink had he drunk? He couldn't remember, but he needed to do something fast.

No one was behind the counter, so he jumped over it. He started flinging bottles to the side in a desperate attempt to find salt. People glanced over but either figured he worked there, or didn't care if he was stealing something. At long last he came up with a bottle of salt. He jumped back over the bar and sprinted to a restroom tucked away towards the back.

He locked the bathroom's door and grabbed a nearby cup. He filled it with water before pouring some salt into it. He drank the concoction and vomited into the sink a moment later.

"Shepard, are you okay? You're vitals are showing unusual patterns." Doctor Chakwas' head popped over his omni-tool.

"I've been-" Shepard vomited again "-been poisoned." He could see that the majority of his crew was gathered around Chakwas.

"Alright Shepard, listen very closely. Have you induced vomiting?" Chakwas asked.

"Yes," Colt said. Pointing his omni-tool towards the sinks.

"I'm contacting Liara right now. She'll be able to reach you faster than any of us," Chakwas said.

Miranda appeared in the picture."Shepard, do you still have those syringes and vials I gave you?" She asked.

"Yes." Colt was finding it difficult to remain conscience.

"Good, pull out a syringe and the blue vial. Fill it up, squeeze the air out of it and find a vein on either of your hands," Miranda said. Her voice was starting to get a little fuzzy. Luckily, he was still functional enough to find a vein and inject the liquid.

Someone was pulling at the door handle hard. Shepard tried to focus on the sound but it was so damn far away and fading fast. "Remember the Reapers...Remember me," Shepard thought he heard himself say those words. He couldn't be sure; it may have been a thought.