One thing Tali came to learn about Miranda was that she was a complete, and utter bosh'tet to everyone around her. The bitchiness was not exclusive to people who blew open the airlock by force.

She came to her, at exactly 04:00, a barbarically early time, and immediately began doling out demands. "If you're done laying around," Miranda flicked the lights on and tossed her a datapad. "Shepard is scheduled for a procedure this afternoon. One I need him partially awake for. He'll be placed in something we call the 'twilight zone' while I ask questions and ensure his answers measure up to the reports and psychological profiles we've compiled. I expect you to read through our modus operandi and have it memorized by 12:30 station time. Absolutely no deviation from the outlined plan will be tolerated."

Tali agreed to help a few days prior - with limitations of course. She made it clear that her only purpose was to support Shepard. Not partake in whatever sick garbage they were up to. While it was difficult picturing Cerberus's actions as altruistic or even acceptable, she couldn't stand the thought of leaving him to this soulless, she-varren. And so, with no small amount of apprehension, she followed Miranda through the crisp, white corridors. Her strength had returned, as the recovery proved graciously uneventful. No need for assistance in something as benign as walking these days.

The room held half a dozen Cerberus scientists decked out in surgical gear – gown, caps, gloves, masks, the works – Shepard at the center of the hub-bub. He was propped up in bed. Eyes closed. The sides of his head shaven with two electrodes poking through parallel incision sites. Tali took his hand in hers. Limp. He was still under sedation. "When…" Nervously, she cleared her throat and tried again. "When… do we start?"

"In a moment. Let me speak with my team and go over the surgical plan."

"Wait… surgery? I thought this was memory restoration."

"That's the first half of the session. The second will be taking another look at his leg and why it suddenly stops receiving signals from time to time. Obviously, that can't happen in the middle of a battle."

She watched as Miranda brought John to the edge of consciousness. Listened while they reviewed the basics of his history. Horror set in upon hearing the words from Shepard's throat. How bad things were after Mindoir. How he wound up running with the Reds. All he wanted was to strike back against the savagery he and his family had suffered. But Finch perverted that. Forced him to become a drug runner smuggling red sand through underground passageways and later customs. 'Ain't no one gonna suspect Leave It to Beaver man, just walk through the skyport and board. Don't make this no big deal.'

How could the humans discard their children so easily? Every child was regarded as precious on the fleet. Perhaps it was a product of their constant struggle to survive, but orphans were immediately placed in loving, stable families. And armed with a support network. To just cast him aside after everything he went through was cruel.

She grasped his hand, whether to comfort him or herself she wasn't sure. But she listened the whole time. A bit guiltily at first. Like she was peeping in on a personal diary. There was so much he hadn't chosen to share. Her commander was a tight-lipped man. Always a bit distant. She had suspected, that behind his cool demeanor was an insidious pain. A burden he chose to bear alone. But hearing him describe the trials he faced broke her heart. How he blamed himself for what happened to Jane. How everything he became was to make up for that 'failure.'

Then came Torfan. Knowingly sending his men to their deaths. He remembered every marine who passed that day. Their names. Little details about their families. Why they joined Bravo Company, a marine division dedicated to ending the slaver threat. Everything. Reaffirming what she had always known in her heart of hearts – that regardless how the rest of the galaxy saw him – a butcher, a renegade, a madman – that behind all of it was a man with a deep and caring soul. He felt each and every one of those sacrifices. And he made them count.

She didn't balk until the following week. Frozen in the corner, Miranda's voice cutting through her anxiety. Shepard's agonizing moans. They had his leg flayed open, straight to the bone, and he was wide awake. Had to be Miranda insisted. They needed him to move his toes. Add to the fact that she was convinced that I.V. narcotics were repressing his reaction time, and it quickly devolved into a grisly, inhuman affair.

At that point, any sane doctor would have written the leg off as a loss. Give the poor guy a prosthetic and let him live in peace. After all this limb was the third transplant from the clones. And every time they gave him a new leg, there'd be additional surgeries to fuse bone and cybernetics. But Cerberus wasn't restoring John to save his life. They needed a soldier. A super-soldier to be specific. And that was worth any price.

Something changed in the following weeks. Shepard wasn't completely conscious of his existence. But even in this convoluted state, he could tell something was different. Mostly he was dreaming, remembering, rebuilding twenty-eight years of memories while remaining blissfully unaware. Yet, for reasons unbeknownst to him, he was awake during many procedures. Always had been. It's not like he had a say in anything. Ever. As far as he could tell, the queen bitch needed him conscious so she could dole out orders. Make a fist. Move this. Move that. Yeah shove it up your ass.

But then they began explaining things. Even the she-wolf took the time to speak before sticking him. 'This is lidocaine. It'll numb you. A few pinches, alright?' She never waited for an answer, but it was a significant improvement on being randomly grabbed and jabbed.

Shepard couldn't remember whether it was in drugged sleep, delirium, or wakeful lucidity but there was a moment in time that stayed with him, permeating the darkness. The bitch was demanding something, something he couldn't quite grasp. Her words slipped from his mind. Retreated to the dark recesses. A shattering pain rose from his leg, clenching up his spine. And that cold voice cut across the room. 'You have a choice, either be restrained in the corner or get it together and hold his hand!'

It felt like a year, but a pressure emerged around his wrist. Cold. Metallic. Initially, he thought it was one of the bitch's instruments. But when he turned, purple head wrappings greeted him. Her eyes shone through the mask, clear and beautiful. They seemed to suck in the florescent lights before beaming outward. Made the world softer. Gentler. "I'm right here Shepard. I'm right here." Her voice was a sweet embrace. Her touch soothed him to the core. She was a remnant from another time – the child savant he picked up on the Citadel. And here she was, invading another one of his dreams. A vague recollection drifted across his consciousness. Her throwing down with the Cerberus nutjobs. But that wasn't real… Couldn't be. Still, it was good to see a friendly face… mask, whatever.

"You're doing fine." Their eyes met. But only for a moment. The pain was unbearable. What the fuck were they doing? "Don't look at them, look at me. Focus on my voice. You need to move your right leg. No that's the left. Try again. Just wiggle your toes. That's all you need to do."

There was a murmur of ascent. And he knew, without interpreting language, that he was doing something right. The pain surged, however. Obviously the bitch was up to something. He could feel her clawing inside, deep in the muscle. Blood seeped through the gown. He strained, tried to break free. A hand (Tali's?) on his thigh stilled him before he could do more damage. "You're almost through." That accent. That familiar roll of the r's. He closed his eyes, and remembered.

Intake Interview
Udina's Office
2183 Before Setting Off On the Hunt For Saren

He had a lot of reservations about bringing the quarian aboard. The pilgrimage-thing revealed a troubling dilemma, regardless of enthusiasm. This was a young girl. And the team he was putting together largely consisted of marines – fighters. People he knew would be solid under fire. Ash proved herself on Eden Prime. Wrex was… well, Wrex. No concerns about combat capabilities there. Garrus came with a C-Sec resume and a host of commendations from the turian military. Clearly, he was a well-trained soldier. The only reason he was even considering taking this girl aboard was the fact that she blew Saren's cover to hell and back. She sat across from him, twiddling her thumbs, or digits or whatever they were. If one only had three, what were they called? Did she even have thumbs? "So what's you're combat experience?"

"Well..." The girl paused, wringing her hands. Not a great sign. "Today was my first time in a combat situation. But I'm a technical expert. Both in mechanics and AI evolution."

"Mechanics huh? So, you work on ships? Vehicles?"

"I'm a quarian. Naturally, I work on ships."

Shepard paused. His face an unreadable mask. "Sorry I've been stationed in Alliance Space for most of my career. I've seen quarians but never really… Well, it's not like we knew each other."

"I heard of you." Tali burst out. "I-I- mean. You're pretty famous in the Alliance. And I… well I saw you on some vids." His skepticism must've translated because the way she jumped from sentence to sentence spoke of someone desperate to prove themselves. "I get you're running a military operation. And I know I'm inexperienced."

"Look… uh..."

"Tali."

"Right. Tali. Look, we're headed into some pretty hairy fights..."

"Hairy?"

"Human metaphor. It means things will be very dangerous. And while you kept it together with those thugs, I have some concerns. For one, I don't know anything about you. Everyone else has files, resumes, commendations from their service in the military. Well, Wrex doesn't but he's a krogan battlemaster. And a famous one at that, even I've heard of his exploits. Obviously, he knows how to fight. You're awfully green. And by your own account, not even of age. Tell me why you should be on this mission." He had to catch himself from adding 'what could you possibly bring to the table?' It's not like he wasn't grateful for her contribution. Quite the opposite. And he wanted to be polite.

The girl didn't waste a second thinking, her words rushed right out as she babbled a mile a minute. "I'm an expert on the geth! As is my father. My people invented them before they drove us from Rannoch. And for three hundred years, it's been our entire species's mission to reclaim the homeworld. Three centuries! I've been studying AI since I was twelve. I mean, I had to complete multi-variable calculus before I could begin quantum mechanics which I needed for AI-computation algorithms, otherwise I would've started younger." She paused. And actually breathed. More like gasped. But it was entertaining either way. "My hacking time is at 3.2 seconds. My friend Caria'Yadda nar Tunil almost beat me at 3.6 but I still have the record for…"

"Hold on," Shepard interrupted, scarcely believing his own ears. "Are you saying you can hack geth?"

"Of course… As I said, we created them. And AI evolution has been a strong focus in my studies. I can't override them permanently, but I can disrupt their runtimes, and make them turn on each other. Temporarily at least."

"Shit. You should've lead with that. Alright, what can you tell me about these things? To me, the geth were nothin' but mechanical boogey-men in a history book. Before Eden Prime anyhow. And it was only a few paragraphs. I know next to nothing about these things other than shoot them 'til they die."

Tali jumped at the chance to talk about her people. And he learned quite a bit about quarian history that day. Particularly the brutality suffered by an entire species. When the geth rose up, they butchered billions. According to their records, only a handful of quarians escaped Rannoch – less than five hundred souls to be exact. And definitely not enough to maintain genetic diversity. However, the geth hadn't spread to the colonies yet. And they raced ahead to try and evacuate people before the AI finished constructing star-ships. It was the right call. Ultimately saving them from extinction.

The geth learned at a shocking pace. And quickly reverse-engineered abandoned tech. Within weeks, they took to the stars and began an orbital bombardment on their colonies. Merely two million of their people were spared the slaughter. Less than one percent of their pre-war population. The scales of it, and the fact that the council did absolutely nothing, was shocking. Then again, given how useless politicians tended to be, perhaps he shouldn't be surprised. It seems even alien legislatures were so bogged down in their own bureaucracy that common sense went out the window.

It was a tough call, but he wound up allowing her on board. For one, he couldn't think of anyone more dedicated to eradicating the AI threat. And the risk he took paid off. He lost count of the times she saved their asses. Within weeks, he came to rely on her technical skills. With her help, they breached strongholds in minutes that would've required weeks of slow attrition. She was invaluable. Need a door opened? Tali. Normandy stealth drive giving Alliance engineers trouble? Tali. Too many geth to be put down by conventional means? Tali would send them exploding into one another, thinning their ranks in a manner of seconds. She had some minor weapons training and carried a shotgun in case anything managed to push passed their line, but her contributions didn't involve drawing a gun.

He worked with engineers before. Usually they could toss out a couple drones, give targeting assistance, sometimes even hack into facilities and update their maps in real-time. They were life savers. But Tali was on a whole 'nother level.

He had never seen someone capable of the things she was. Overheating weapons. Exploding shields. The girl was brilliant. And she wreaked havoc from the worst of places. Keeping her safe was one of the team's top priorities. She was a savant – genius. That's not someone you risk on the front lines. He shoved that kid into pipes, rocky crevices, and make-shift foxholes hollowed out with grenades. No time to dig with geth shooting rockets at you. And not once did he get a complaint. 'Aye aye Shepard. What do you need Shepard? On it Shepard.'

He worried though. During the whole chase for Saren, he worried. All it would take was a single suit-rupture and that would be that. It was also glaringly apparent that she wasn't a marine. This was not someone who had been trained for endurance. The kid would get tired on long treks, frequently slowing them down. Sometimes him and Garrus would take turns carrying her their back. Issue was, dextros were a bit denser than levos. Add in the envirosuit and she was pretty heavy. Especially when one needed to trek fifty miles in a short time. But her skills were so invaluable that he was willing to take the time hit. The kid did good. Damn good.

So what the ever loving hell was this brilliant girl doing here? Why was she with Cerberus? Had he gotten the whole Cerberus-thing wrong? The difference between reality and dreams often blurred. And he questioned his perception of everything. He would forget before he remembered. Where he was. That something was wrong. That Ash was dead. Then he'd experience it all over again. Alchera in the distance. A frenzied fight for air. His lungs melting into molten fire as he gasped into the nothingness.

Alarms blared. There was a sense that time had passed, a lot of time. But he couldn't place a finger on it. Couldn't know for certain. Noise came into clarity. Machines beeping angrily, the sound bouncing off the walls, assaulting his senses. And then it happened. With the tap of a finger, her mask cleared and he saw… her. Gave him the gift of connection with another living being. A bit of solace in this lab that filled him with nothing but dread. Lilac colored eyes gazed down at him. Slender tubing extended to her mouth and nose, inciting an old worry, are you alright? How do you survive like that? But she spoke so softly. Voice thick with emotion. For him. She was there for him. Somehow, someway, he understood that. And he let it wash over him – her grace, her light – it suffused his very soul.

She gave him everything in that moment.

He wanted to cry out.

Thank you.

Nothing came though. A tube was crammed down his throat. His lungs inflated without breath. A terrifying and powerless feeling. But in that moment, he was too weak to raise an arm much less protest.

He squeezed her hand, and realized that cold metal feeling was a glove. Something metallic that sheathed her all the way to the elbow. And a thought hit him. It was for her protection. He was strong now – too strong. The memory of an unnatural, superhuman grip remained. Hadn't he wrenched a steel door off its hinges? That was real. And so was she. So were those eyes. Lilac colored eyes. A horizon rising in the distance.

I'm not sure what you've done Tali, but thank you.