Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect or any of its characters. They are products of BioWare, EA and certainly not me. This fan fiction is for entertainment purposes; no profit or intrusion of copyright is intended.

Miranda entered the tech lab, striding confidently across the floor to Mordin's table. "You called?"

Mordin glanced up from his current experiment before turning his eyes down again as he slowly poured a steaming green liquid from one test tube into a beaker containing a blue liquid. "Yes," he stated in usual clipped and tenor tone. Picking up a glass stirring rod, he plunged the tip into the mixed liquid. The glass tip melted slowly, liquefying. "Huh." Removing the stirring stick, he watched curious, quick amphibian-like lids blinking as the glass dangled and dripped. He twirled his wrist to prevent the glass from dripping too far. The tip solidified, froze and then cracked. "Interesting." He set the stick down beside the beaker in a non-reactive tray.

"What is that?" Miranda inquired, standing a few feet back from the experiment to avoid any surprises.

"I will submit my report when completed … but I am working on an improvement to the ammunition for our weapons. Something suitable that would affect Collectors. Yes, Collectors more than other species. You … myself. Flesh, blood. We have ammunition perfect against flesh. Collectors? Not the same. Combination, exoskeleton and armor. Harder to penetrate."

Miranda nodded. "So you've found something that will disintegrate armor? What? Weaponizing acid?"

"Precisely." Mordin agreed. "The key is to get the acid contained within the chamber and to explode on impact. Not to burn through the owned gun, or worse yet … shatter on the user while taking cover, or damage. Tricky. Very tricky." He paused and squinted as he eyed Miranda. "But I'm getting close." He threw a hand into the air and turned from her to walk towards the cupboard. "That is not why I called. I have your chip."

Wordlessly, Miranda stepped around the table to the cupboard as Mordin pulled out the envelope she gave him and another identical to it except for a tear at the corner. He presented the slightly torn envelope first. "The duplicate. As requested, they are … identical."

Taking the offered envelope, she pinched the edges to peer inside. "Is there any way to differentiate the chip outside of the envelope?"

Mordin shook his head. "I would suggest not mixing them up. Though … if you have an acute sense of sight, there is a slight difference in the shading of the chip. I could not match the color exactly." With index and thumb, she pinched open each envelope to peer inside at the chips. Mordin watched with determined intensity. "I won't approach Shepard with this … assignment. But if he comes to me and asks me to search for bugs, as his doctor … I'm obliged to comply." He inhaled sharply. "I will … remove all bugs."

"I would expect nothing less, Solus." Miranda answered smoothly. She turned from the Salarian, slipping the envelopes up her sleeves to hide them and left the tech lab. While waiting at the elevator, Jacob exited the armory, a visor in his hands – Shepard's visor.

Jacob turned to the elevator and acknowledged Miranda with a curt nod of the head. "I was just coming to see you, Miranda." He handed the visor to her. "Thought maybe you could take a look at this." When she took the visor he continued. "Shepard dropped it off a couple days ago. Said the range finder wasn't working. Tech stuff is more up your alley, thought you could give it a shot cuz I'm out of ideas."

Inquisitively, she inspected the visor, turning it over in her hands before touching one of the sensors on the right ear piece. "What exactly did he say was happening?"

"Just said the range finder wasn't working. And the radar was inaccurate. Thought maybe it was a jamming signal on the last job, but that wasn't it."

"I'll look into it. Thanks Jacob," she stated professionally then addressed the AI. "EDI, where is Commander Shepard?"

"Commander Shepard is ashore."

"What? For how long?"

"Four hours, twenty three minutes."

Turning eyes to Jacob, she commented. "I don't remember him leaving. Do you know where he was going?"

"Not sure, exactly," Jacob answered with a shrug. "But he had that Drell with him. Look, I know he's part of the squad and the Commander won't hear anything about it, but I don't trust him. I'm not saying we all don't have our blemishes but having an assassin on board … I don't like it."

"There are a lot of things happening on this mission that warrant caution and reservation. Sadly, the commander does not often believe in that approach."

Jacob nodded in agreement. "So … what's the order?"

"Your orders are simple," Miranda explained calmly. "They haven't changed. You do what you were assigned. And keep your eyes open. This mission is far too important for … carelessness to turn us off course."

With a firm understanding, he nodded curtly then saluted before returning to the armory. Miranda glanced at the visor in her hand before waving her hand over the sensor for the elevator.

Flashback

Shepard stood in the Port Cargo area of the fourth deck and he stared at the Krogen tank with the young "perfect" Krogen soldier inside. Slowly approaching the console, he glanced down at the buttons and skimmed his fingers over the controls.

"So … gonna open the tank?"

Shepard glanced behind him, eyeing the convict, Jack, with disinterest before turning his attention back to the Krogen. "I'm thinking of it."

"Crazy son of a bitch," Jack muttered and leaned back against the metal hull of the ship, planting a single boot against the paneling behind her with a thud and crossed her arms in a cocky display of boredom.

"Don't you have some files to be reading?"

"Cerberus Cheerleader hasn't delivered them yet. You promised me those reports, Shepard." She pushed off the wall with her foot and pointed an accusing finger towards Shepard. "Don't you forget that."

"I haven't forgotten," Shepard responded calmly, eyes on the tank. "These things take time. Miranda will get you the reports."

"It's been almost two days. I don't wait. Waiting … pisses me off."

"What do you want me to say? You'll get the reports you want. Chances are they aren't just available for anyone to find. Miranda probably has to pull some strings to get them."

Jack huffed. "You know what else pisses me off? That you're always defending that whore when she's a two timing lying tit."

Shepard laughed. "You don't even know her."

"Bullshit." She spat. "I know Cerberus better than you … better than any of these assholes on this ship. They'll tell you anything you want to hear and when your back is turned?" She punched a fist into her open palm. "Game … over."

"You let me worry about Cerberus. I just need you angry and ready to kill some Collectors."

"Oh, I'm angry," She affirmed with intensity.

"That's not all you are," a second female voice responded smoothly from the door of the cargo bay. Miranda stepped inside, eyeing the convict with distrust and disdain.

"Watch it," Jack threatened, closing the distance between her and the Cerberus Operative, pointing a finger in Miranda's face. "Where's my god damn reports?"

Eyes narrowed, Miranda matched Jack's challenge. "You'll get them when I have them."

"I better," Jack sneered. "You know what, Shepard? You should let that overgrown lizard out. Especially now. Maybe he'll rip the bitch's head off and I won't have to." Without further comment, Jack stormed from the bay.

Miranda twisted slightly at the waist to watch her leave. "I really wish you just let me shoot her on that prison ship."

Shepard smirked. "That would have been too easy. Plus, you've seen what she can do. If we can channel her anger and power into the Collectors … we've got a fighting chance at this. Liara was vital in my last mission. I need a powerful biotic."

"And what exactly am I?"

"A powerful biotic," he responded with ease, smirk still in place as he glanced at her over his shoulder. "But it doesn't hurt to have more than one. Especially if we're really going after the Collectors." He sighed heavily and turned. "Miranda, I need all the help I can get. We need a damn army if we're going to do this. I'm going to open the tank." He motioned with his thumb towards the Krogan tank behind him.

"Excuse me? I'm sorry, Commander, I don't believe I heard you correctly."

"You heard me just fine," He faced the tank again. "I'm going to open it. Imagine. I had Wrex the last time around and he was … there's nothing like having a Krogen on your side."

"Perhaps," she countered calmly, her tone giving no hint of her alarm at the prospect. "Wouldn't it be easier to pay a mercenary? We can go to Omega and get one without trouble. It would be far more reliable, don't you think? We have no idea what will come from that tank. You don't know his condition, how it will respond. You risk your own life and the integrity of this ship."

"So that's your vote then. No."

"Of course, it's no!" she exclaimed. "You would have to be out of your mind to think opening that tank is a good idea. Let's go, Shepard. After some sleep, you'll open your eyes and realize that I'm right."

Silent for nearly a minute, Shepard finally nodded. "Alright, Lawson. You win. I'll sleep on it." Without a glance behind, he followed Miranda from the room. Four hours later, Shepard returned while the Normandy crew slept. He opened the tank.

"And I don't regret it," Shepard said, simply and leaned back in the bench in the VIP room of the crowded bar. "Grunt's been a great addition to my crew."

Hannah Shepard slowly shook her head. "How is it that you manage to get such a … rag tag bunch of misfits to actually follow you on this insane mission?"

Chuckling, Shepard shrugged casually. "Money … bribes. There's always an incentive. You just need to find the right trigger to get them on your side."

"Very true," Hannah agreed with a slow nod. "Same can be said about getting through red tape. Money, bribes, blackmail. There's always a way, just depends on how dirty you're willing to get." Draping her arm over the back of her bench, she crossed her legs as she evaluated her son. "I'm surprised Lawson stays with you. Sounds like you ignore her opinions more often than agree with them. She's not a woman used to being ignored. She's dangerous, John."

"I know. She stays on because she has to. I'm her pet project and so is this mission. She's determined, focused. She doesn't fail. To walk is to give up, that's not her way."

"What about this Jack? Can you trust her or is she as hostile to you as you make her sound."

"I have to trust her. She's on my squad. I fulfilled my end of the bargain; I gave her the documents she wanted. Now she owes me. And if she doesn't pull through, then I'll take care of it."

Quiet a few seconds, Hannah searched her son's expression. "You've changed so much."

Bringing the glass to his lips, Shepard poured the burning pink liquor down his throat. "I do what I have to do."

"Within reason, John." Hannah stated patiently. "I remember when you were named a Spectre. Your father and I were so proud of you. I didn't have access to all your reports and what you were doing, but I was able to see what the Alliance had. I saw you changing, the decisions you made and especially how you started to respond to Alliance superior officers."

"It became quite clear to me that I had to just make my own decisions and do what needed to be done. I was made a Spectre." He leaned forward, intense. "A Spectre! First human entrusted. Yeah, so maybe it was the Council throwing us a bone, but I was still made a Spectre. And here's the Alliance trying to boss me around? It doesn't work that way. I had a mission. I had a purpose and here I kept getting these ridiculous side points from Hackett. I wasn't there to clean up a mess. I was there to find Saren and stop the Reapers."

"But you were still representing humanity. We needed your help and the Alliance trusted you. You're a human and a soldier of the Alliance first." Hannah interrupted.

"No," Shepard shook his head. "You're wrong. The day they made me a Spectre, I transcended humanity and the Alliance. Because I wasn't just responsible for looking out for humans but for all the species in the galaxy. And if that meant I had to sacrifice a human interest for the betterment of the galaxy, I would have done it. That was something the Alliance never understood. I wasn't a Spectre under Alliance command. I superseded Alliance command."

"No one is above the law, John."

"But I was. And I didn't have to answer to anyone but the Council. I respected that. And I tried to do everything I could to make Earth proud. To show all the other species that humans could integrate and exist as equals within their established community." Teeth clenched, he sat back and shook his head, eyes distant. "That all bit me in the ass." Pausing a moment, he leaned forward and slammed a fist on the table. "I sacrificed the Council because I needed the fleet to bring down the Reaper! What did they expect me to do?" Growling, he shook his head. "They said to me that one day I would have to make the choice, make sacrifices in order to ensure the greater good. The greater good was to destroy Sovereign."

"You made the right choice, John."

"Did I? Are you saying that because you think I did? Or because I spared more human lives with my decision." He countered. At his mother's silence, he flicked his wrist, hand dismissive towards the air. "My decision wasn't made because the fleet was human. If the council was all human and the fleet was turian, I would still have sacrificed the council. A human colony … whatever I had to do. Anything."

Watching her son with a settling understanding, Hannah poured herself more wine from the bottle on the table, leaving a little in the bottle to keep the sediment out of her glass. "That is why you were a perfect Spectre. But that did not mean you should disrespect the Alliance authorities."

"You're talking about that ass who wanted to inspect the Normandy? After running his mouth about it being a waste of money then insulting my crew to their faces? Like hell I was going to let him on board my ship."

"That was not your decision to make, John. The Normandy would have passed the inspection. Instead, you just ostracized yourself from the Alliance. You made enemies that day."

Scoffing, Shepard chugged the rest of his drink. "I've been making enemies since the Blitz. I still am."

"It's not too late for you. Come with me. We can get you back with the Alliance. Get you back where you belong."

"Where's that? An Alliance ship? Pulling some crap shore duty somewhere? For what? I have a mission and a crew. I have to stop the Collectors and the Reapers. Nobody else seems to give a shit, so I guess that's on me now. Look, Mom. I appreciate the offer but I don't want to go back."

"What?" With slight shock, she leaned forward. "What are you talking about? It's where … why would you think that? Is Cerberus better? So you want to be a terrorist? Is that it? You lost your Spectre status so now you decided you want to be a terrorist."

"I'm not a terrorist."

"Maybe not. But Cerberus? Really, John? Jeez, I would rather you have joined the Blue Suns."

"Or you should have just come with me after Horizon."

Shepard turned his head at the voice, eyes settling on the familiar form of Ashley Williams. "Ash," expression shocked, he stood. "Hey."

"Hey, Skipper," She greeted with a nervous smile. "Didn't expect to see you here. Was just on my way out and I saw you both up here." She faced Hannah. "I hope I didn't interrupt."

"Not at all," Hannah slid along the bench to make room for Williams. "Join us. I was just convincing my son to come back to the Alliance. Where he should be."

Shepard shook his head, sitting down again and leaning back on the bench.

"I could use your help, Skipper," Ashley injected. "Got a real important mission. The extra fire power won't hurt and it'll be your in back into the ranks. Show the brass you're not a terrorist. That Cerberus forced you."

"They didn't force me." Shepard sighed, exasperated. "You act like I'm some rogue criminal. Think about it. If I was, Udina would have Miranda and me in a prison. We wouldn't have been able to dock our ship. I wouldn't be free to walk around this city. I've done a lot of thinking about what exactly I'm doing with Cerberus and I came up with a startling realization." He leaned forward, hands clasped together on the table. "As a Spectre, I was the secret police of the Council. Now? I'm just the secret police of the Alliance."

"No offence, Shepard. But that's a load of rubbish." Ashley responded with narrowed eyes.

"Is it really?" Shepard countered. "To bring me back from the dead, they spent four billion credits. And that was just on my project. Not including however many other projects. Where would they possibly get that funding? Hmm?"

"That's just ridiculous," Hannah said with a dismissive wave of the hand. "How many times have any of us been sent to shut down and run out Cerberus operations? If they were part of the Alliance, we would be protecting them, not hunting them."

"I don't know." Shepard whispered, distantly as he remembered his previous clashes with Cerberus. "It's almost like when problems surface or too much info gets out, we're sent in to clean up the mess. But have you noticed that we never seem to stop them? And the cells are small. It's like they're well prepared and evacuated when we got there." He shrugged. "I don't know. Anyway, I have my crew and my squad. Seems like everyone here has dismissed the Reapers, forgot everything I did and all the warning signs. So I'm after the Collectors on my own. If that means Cerberus is funding me, then I'm alright with that."

With disbelief, Ashley shook her head, brow furrowed in confused concern. "Are you listening to yourself? I took grunt and crap jobs for years and only after serving with you has the Alliance given me a chance. But I didn't give up despite the troubles. And now you're just giving up? You give up on everything you were? How you were raised? Alliance is in our blood, Skipper. I just don't understand."

"What's to understand? This is just how it is. I've made my decision." Shepard stated firmly, ending any further discussion. "I know what I want and I'm doing what needs to be done."

Hannah Shepard crossed her arms over her chest. "Rumor has it Anderson offered you the Spectre title. That you could reclaim it. You turned him down."

"Of course, I did. If I'm a Spectre then I have the Council breathing down my neck again. And we all know what happened the last time." Shaking his head, Shepard stood. "No, not again. At least not now. Not with this mission. Look, I have to get back to my ship."

Remaining in her seat, Ashley's head tilted back slightly to watch Shepard's eyes. "What happened to you?"

"What happened to me? People change. That's what happened."

"Not like this," Hannah said.

"She's right," Ashley agreed. "What the hell did they do to you? They messed with your brain. Changed the wires. You're so different."

"Different? I'm different." He laughed and rolled his eyes. "Gee, can't imagine why. Chased a lunatic across the galaxy only to engage in the largest battles of my life. And then I died! Then some … psychopath with a vision funds a project to bring me back to life from a pile of flesh. And then do I get a break? More shore leave? Oh wait, the last time I had shore leave, I was the hero of the Blitz." Leaning forward, he pressed his hands onto the edge of the table. "I watched giant bugs stuffing human colonists into pods. I saw bodies discarded like trash on their ship. I saw what the Reapers did to the Protheans and like hell I'm going to let them do that to us." He looked between Ashley and his mother. "If that means I have to tell the Alliance to go screw itself, then so be it. I'm jumping through that Omega 4 relay and I'm going to stop the Collectors. Or die on their ship. Whichever works." He searched their expressions for a long moment before sighing and averting his eyes. "I gotta go." He turned to leave.

Hannah held her son's gaze, easily interpreting the stress, the pain, the confusion and the determined sense of duty. Strong willed and fearless, she understood. "John." She called softly and swallowed her relief when he paused. She pushed Williams from the bench and slipped out to approach her son. "Don't walk away. Not angry." Stepping in front of him, she peered up into his eyes, her own determined and strong to match his.

"I'm alright," he quickly said to alleviate her worry. "Really, just a lot on my plate. I'm sorry."

Offering a rare reassuring smile, Hannah touched his upper arm. "Just make sure you send me a message when you get back."

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I'll try."

"No trying. I expect it, soldier. You hear me?"

Calming, he nodded in understanding. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Good, now give your mother a hug," without waiting for an approval, Hannah hugged Shepard tightly, firm and strong in her display. "You come back, you hear? Your father and I couldn't handle losing you again."

"I will." He pledged though both knew the low odds of his thin promise.