A/N: Still sick. Writing to distract myself. I think this chapter came out better than the last one, but then again, that's not exactly much of an accomplishment -.-;

Also, I reread the last chapter – wow that was terrible. I'll definitely rewrite that later. Eugh.

Five years later...

The raid on Torfan, as gruesome as it had been, was largely successful: The batarians had retreated from citadel space, leaving the Systems Alliance colonies unmolested. Independent slavers were still a problem, but the well-funded and organized groups discretely backed by the Hegemony were gone.

She had earned a new moniker as well, although few would dare use it to her face. The Butcher of Torfan, she was called, generally by angry and bitter relatives of the soldiers she'd gotten killed. Either nobody cared or nobody knew what she'd done to the batarians in the tunnels deep beneath the moon's surface. She suspected the latter.

Her career from that point had been quite similar to what it was before. She served on various frigates, generally in charge of the marine detachment, and conducted various peacekeeping and S&R operations. They're weren't difficult, but it was certainly nice to have a reputation for being polite and considerate instead of a child-slaughtering monstrosity. She didn't, as a general rule, care what people thought of her – but their opinions shaped what she could and could not convince them to do. People were more likely to help someone who had helped them, or were friendly, than someone who shoved guns in their faces.

Common courtesy, and all that.

In the interest of not getting hunted down by any more vengeful relatives than were already after her for getting their sons or cousins or fathers killed, she'd made it a point to take the high road when the option presented itself. With her abilities, there were few situations that put her in any real danger, so taking a "risk" to make people happy cost her little and benefited her greatly.

By the end of her second tour of duty, she had to have the single most contradictory reputation of any soldier in the entire Systems Alliance military. She was the Butcher of Torfan, who callously got an entire platoon killed just to complete a mission and – if she wasn't in earshot, and the rumors were to be believed – gunned down a room full of surrendering batarians. On the other hand, she was also outspoken in the need to for the races of the galaxy to address their issues peacefully, and had distinguished herself several times in various search and rescue operations on colonies that had been attacked or suffered natural disasters. People who met her had found her to be patient, polite, and kind.

It was with a small amount of trepidation, then, that she'd answered the summons to a private, highly classified briefing. She hoped that whatever was going on this time wouldn't require her to undo all the work she'd put into making a respectable image of herself. That would be frustrating.

Still, there was no sense in wasting time. She locked the personal terminal in her quarters and headed out into the halls of Arcturus Station.

The briefing room was much like the one from half a decade ago: Well-shielded, scan proof, and muffled. The room arrangement, however, was different. Instead of a podium, there was a table and a chair, and she noted with surprise that several high-level members of the Systems Alliance military as well as the diplomatic corps were sitting in the audience holding slates.

"Ah, Commander, there you are," a gravelly voice said. "Please, take a seat," he gestured to the stage. Somewhat confused, Shepard headed up to the desk, sitting down in the well-padded chair provided. She noted with no small amount of frustration that the lights they had on made it nearly impossible to see the people in the audience. Probably intentional, she thought to herself. There really were better ways to let someone observe an interview, she grumbled.

"I am Admiral Steven Hackett," the voice repeated, and gestured around to the faces in the room. "I believe you've already met Captain David Anderson." he nodded at the man sitting next to him. "Antony Blackwell is from the Diplomatic corps, Doctor Alicia Glenn is a psychologist, and... John Smith... is a respected member of Alliance Intelligence," he snorted quietly at the pseudonym.

"Before you ask, this is not a briefing for a specific mission," he said as preamble. "however, everything here is classified, and we'd appreciate if you answer all the questions as truthfully as you can."

She nodded, slightly offended that they thought she would lie to their faces. "Yes, sir," she replied.

"Good," he said. "Glenn? I think you wanted to kick this off?"

The vaguely feminine silhouette nodded. "I did, sir. Commander Shepard, you were born on Earth, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am, I was," Shepard said, wondering why they were bothering to ask things they obviously already knew.

"Do you know who your parents are?" she asked.

Why do they care, she wondered, before shaking her head. "No, ma'am. I was raised by a street gang in Vancouver."

The doctor scribbled something on her slate, then looked back up at her. "Yes, the Reds," she said. "Apparently, they were attacked shortly before you left to join the military. Do you know what happened to them?"

Oh, shit. "Yes," she said, without elaborating.

"What happened?"

Shepard thought quickly. "They were killed in a fight," she said.

Hackett leaned forward. "Shepard, we're not interested in playing twenty questions here," he said with a hint of amusement. "You're not getting kicked out for this, and the agreement you have with us stands," he said.

He probably organized it, she thought. "Very well, sir. I killed them, ma'am."

"You did," she said, sounding wholly unsurprised. "Can you tell me why?"

She blinked. They didn't know? "They wanted to get involved in drug smuggling. I told them that was a terrible idea, and said that I was going to leave if they persisted. They persisted, so I left. It's not... easy... to leave a gang," she said hesitantly.

"Why did you object to drug smuggling?" the woman asked.

"Because it was a bad idea, that's why," Shepard said immediately, counting reasons off on her fingers. "First, we had no idea what was a good price was. Most of the Reds couldn't afford a drug habit. Second, we were new, so not only would nobody trust us, we'd get a terrible deal because of it. Third, because we didn't know who was trustworthy or not, we risked getting used and discarded. Fourth, while the authorities knew us, they didn't go after us as much as they did the other gangs, because we kept all our fights between gangs and didn't involve your average Joe trying to live his life," she said.

"I thought that we were in no position to enter in to that kind of business without a hell of a lot more preparation, and that it would all backfire." She shrugged. "Our old leader disagreed, so I told him I was leaving. They threatened to turn me in for some of the things I'd done, but not before... punishing... me for my disloyalty," she said. "I wasn't interested in enduring that, so I killed them."

"Understandable," the woman said with a nod of sympathy. "just to clarify, however, those were the only reasons you objected to entering into the smuggling business?"

Shepard thought back to the arguments she'd had a decade ago with Malcolm, their old leader. They'd disagreed on pricing, handoff agreements, pricing, how to sell... "No, ma'am, that's pretty much it," she said. "it wasn't in our best interest, for a lot of reasons."

Alicia nodded, apparently satisfied. "Thank you, Commander."

Captain Anderson spoke next. "Commander," he began, and Shepard smiled, recognizing his voice. "you pushed forward on Torfan, despite knowing it would likely get most of your unit killed, and then proceeded to slaughter the remaining batarians and their families. Why?"

Shepard gave a long sigh, organizing her thoughts. "Because, sir, it was the best option available."

He folded his arms and gave a small snort. "You'll have to explain that one, I'm afraid," he said dryly.

"Sir, you have to know that the Alliance can't defend every colony and station we have," she said, and he nodded. "So we don't. We just blow up the people that attack us, as quickly as possible. I know the technique, it's the same one you use in gangs to ensure nobody messes with you." The military members at the table winced hearing the Alliance defensive doctrine compared to gang tactics, but she pressed on.

"Tofan was retribution for the Skyllian Blitz, plain and simple. The thing about that kind of tactic is it only works if the enemy knows that they're going to get hurt for what they've done to you. If there's even a chance they might not, they'll ignore the likely retribution and attack anyway."

"Because of the scenario that the brass set up on Torfan, we needed to finish the hit in one go, or we'd end up handing the public relations victory to the batarians. Remember, they weren't 'officially' a batarian group, so if we'd failed – even once – in taking them out, the Hegemony could laugh at us for being unable to take out a band of independent slavers. Our retribution policy would lose its teeth, and we'd see a huge increase in attacks on our colonies."

"In order for the Alliance to justify complete slaughter of an entire base, we had to go in on foot, pretending that there were slaves there that might be rescued. If we'd shelled the entrance from orbit, we'd have been accused of willingly killing civilians by the batarians, and there'd be believable evidence, too."

She sighed. "A colony raid generally causes several thousands of casualties, both civilian and military, and that's not counting the raiders that get killed. The infrastructure costs are huge, the loss of confidence weakens the economy... it's a devastating ripple effect. Losing a platoon and a killing few slavers and their families was the course of action that killed the fewest people in the long term," she finished, meeting the gaze of Captain Anderson, who was shaking his head slowly. "Is there something wrong with my evaluation, Captain?" she asked sharply.

"No, Commander," he said after a moment. "I agree with your... logic." He leaned over and whispered something to the doctor, who nodded. "That's all from me. John?"

John – a well-dressed, blank-faced man of indeterminate age – cleared his throat and spoke.

"Commander, allow me to pose a hypothetical situation to you," he said. "Let's pretend that a terrorist has hijacked a space station in low orbit around a populated world, taken the occupants hostage, and is planning to drop the station on the planet. You have time to save the station residents while letting the terrorist escape, or you can kill the terrorist while letting hostages die before you need to go stop the station from hitting the planet. Which do you do?"

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I kill the terrorist," she said firmly.

He nodded at her, marking down a note on his slate. "Why?"

"Saving the most people," she said. "Taking a station isn't easy, and people already died for him to be in the position he's in. If I let him go, he's welcome to do it again, and I can't guarantee I can stop him twice. Even if I do, he's still killed people on the station, and if I let him go, even if I stop him every time, he's going to kill a lot of people setting up these sort of events. By stopping him here, even if the hostages die, I ensure he'll never do it again."

"So you let the hostages die, in order to potentially save more people later on?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes."

"It doesn't bother you to condemn the hostages to death?"

She shook her head. "No, sir, it doesn't. You've seen my file, I assume?" He nodded. "Then you know why."

It continued like that for nearly two hours. Questions about her past, her actions, her love interests – as if she'd had any – her hobbies, her family, her plans for the future... it was nerve-wracking to sit through. She was exhausted when Hackett had finally stood, thanked her for her time, and told her she was free to go.

She'd entered the room confused, and left it completely bewildered.

Two days later...

Donnel Udina rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Well, what about Shepard?" he asked, pulling the file from her interview up. "Earthborn," he noted after a quick read, "but... no record of her family..."

"Doesn't have one," David Anderson summarized quickly. "Grew up on the streets. Learned to look out for herself."

"She got her whole unit killed on Torfan," Hackett said gravely, gesturing at the military record in the file.

Anderson shook his head. "She gets the job done, no matter the cost," he said bitterly.

Udina's eyebrows went up, and he glanced at the captain and the admiral. "Is that the kind of person we want protecting the galaxy?"

Anderson sighed. "That's the only kind of person who can protect the galaxy," he said sadly.

Udina sat for a moment, staring the file without reading it, his mind a thousand kilometers away. Finally, he nodded. "I'll make the call," he said, and reached for his communicator.

Hackett and Anderson nodded in turn at him and stood, taking their leave as he punched in a number.

Out in the hallway, Anderson glanced at Hackett. "You think this is a good idea?"

He shook his head slowly. "Probably not, but not for the reasons you think," he said as they began walking toward the front of the building.

"Oh? Why's that?" Anderson asked, holding the door for the admiral, who gave a brief thanks.

"The exact same reason that she's the best choice out of all the candidates we have," Hackett said as they walked for a waiting cab. "Because she's not a hero. She isn't in this for the glory, or the duty, or anything else. She'll follow orders, in letter and spirit, but she's just not invested in military service outside of the bargain we made with her back when she joined."

The automated cab beeped as Anderson punched the address of the spaceport in. "And that runs out... in four years?" Anderson asked, and Hackett nodded.

"The end of her next tour, yeah. Thing is, you don't exactly quit being a SPECTRE. I don't know about you, but I don't want her chasing me down for weaseling out of our bargain."

Anderson imagined her cold jade eyes staring him down as the last thing he'd see and shuddered. "Me neither," he said vehemently. "So what do we do about it? Go tell Udina we've had second thoughts?"

Hackett shook his head. "No. Like it or not, she is the best soldier for the job."

Anderson snorted. "So, what, we just admit that we signed our own death sentences? I'd like to have kids someday, Steve," he said, his tone joking, but his eyes were serious.

"I know, David, I know. Way I see it, we've got just over four years to find a reason for her to stick around."

Anderson groaned and stuck buried his face in forearms on the dash of the cab. "Great. Four years to figure out how to get an emotionless psychopath to put her life on the line every day for the rest of her life, instead of retiring comfortably and learning how to play another instrument, or whatever she does for fun."

"She's not completely emotionless, but yeah, pretty much," Hackett said.

"Great." Anderson groaned.

"You know what the best part is," Hackett said after a minute or two.

"Hmm?" Anderson tilted his head enough to cast a single skeptical eye at the admiral.

"You're going to have to be her CO to pull it off," he said with a rare grin.

"...with all due respect, sir, I hate you," he said, stuffing his head back into his arms as the cab sped toward the spaceport.

A/N: Going to use this space to respond to the guest reviews I've gotten, since I can't send messages to guests.

First, regarding biotics... they absolutely can punch through tanks. I distinctly remember warping geth to death in all three games, and a high-rank throw imparts roughly as much force as a mid-sized sedan running into a wall at thirty miles per hour. Outside some specific situations which will come up in ME2, I treat Shepard as being a "new game plus" character who starts out with a relatively filled ability tree.

For those that wanted more detail about the biotics, those will come up in bits and pieces. The biggest parts will come up in the ME2 and ME3 sections of this fic, because that's where they'll have the most impact. For now, her oddly-placed element zero nodules are part of my reason why she's a psychopath and helps explain why she's such a potent biotic – which Kaidan actually comments on in ME1, if you spend enough time talking to him.

That's actually a big part of why I started writing this fic: I wanted to give reasons for all the little "videogame-isms" that the series had. "Why is Shepard, mechanically, so much more powerful than her biotic squadmates with more powerful equipment? Oh, it's because of X. Why is Shepard placed in a position of trust, despite being a horrible murderer? Because of X." I like providing the X. It's fun to me.

To those that wonder why she'd end up in a relationship with Liara... that's a seeeecreet. For a while, anyway. I promise that when it happens, it'll make sense... or, well, that I think it'll make sense, at least. It certainly won't a typical love story, I can tell you that much!

Lastly, a lot of this writing comes from notes I've prepared over several months. As I start having to make more material from whole cloth, it'll slow down somewhat... although I still write fairly quickly. Badly, but quickly. Hopefully quality will improve without time taken increasing, but somehow I doubt that will be the case.