(A-N: Rewritten to fix major issues. Sorry. Never post first drafts.)

Hitarul - The stasis that Protheans enter during the 22 days of fertilization and implantation. Male and female remain joined for the entire period.

Regulikar: The Prothean central government.

Kepala - The ridges of carapace that cover the top of a Prothean's head.

Vir: Male chosen by the Prothean Genetic Authority to sire a female's children.

Gasin (Gasinu - pl)- Prothean male the age of majority. (Dropped from 20 to 13 over the course of the war.)

Takun (Takune - pl) - Prothean female the age of majority. (Dropped from 20 to 13 over the course of the war.)

Trigger Warning: There is a non-graphic and non-explicit depiction of two different arranged mating situations in this chapter. The first was pleasant, the second unpleasant. They are marked by a § for the pleasant one, and a §§ for the start and end of the unpleasant one, if you wish to skip them. Both are consensual, just sorta squicky for the whole 'thanks for choosing my perfect genetic match, oh great government' thing. Then, of course, Javik being just the perfect gentlemen. Yeah ... no.

21 Days ASR

Shepard sucked a thin, rasping breath past the hands around her throat. Just managing to get enough air to growl low and fierce, she let out the closest approximation to a prothean challenge her larynx could create. Black spots and bright sparks flashed across her vision in an impressive light show.

Those gold eyes—gold was rare and prized as a sign of genetic excellence in the empire—pressed in on her. "Ninik maovul kufonya kwal ajik yangul wakul huul, mapeluk?"

Again, Tashac whispered the translation. He was asking what the demons intended to do to him. Shepard blinked, something about the furious, sneering face pressed so close to hers familiar, and not just the 'yeah, sure, it's a prothean' sort of familiar.

"Javik?" Shepard gasped before she even realized she intended to. Squinting, trying to see him clearly, she just sort of flailed in his grasp. How could he be so strong despite the long stasis? A memory flashed through her head. She braced herself to be swept away into that other life, but Tashac held herself at a distance. The reason stabbed a queasy sliver of sadness through Shepard's heart. The memory hurt too much … was too traumatic.

§

Her first fertile cycle, the Regulikar had paired her with Lulyak, an older, well-storied and honoured warrior. He'd been paired many times and quickly set her at ease with tales of his family and adventures. They'd spent a day just talking, meditating, and sharing meals … becoming comfortable with one another. When they'd finally laid down and he'd moved against her back, she'd accepted the contact willingly. They both owed the empire a duty, and she'd opened to him, their physical bonding painless and easy.

The deeper bonding had proven both enjoyable and educational. He'd seen so much of the galaxy, and even having fought the Reapers for decades, he'd managed to keep his heart compassionate and filled with humour. Wise and learned in the ways of war, he taught her more in that bond than any of her trainers. When their time ended—the bond breaking—he'd embraced her, run the ridge of his kepala along hers and promised to return when their offspring were ready to depart her body. Neither of his young outlived him, but both cherished him as a father as much as they did Merol. Lulyak had taken them from her body and helped her lay them out in death. When the Reapers cut him down, she'd mourned him terribly.

§§

Her second cycle, her government assigned her a warrior of no less might, but young, hot-blooded and fresh from a frontline he had not left since his fourteenth summer. He entered the room and looked her up and down, his expression a mask of cool indifference. "For more than ten cycles I have served the empire in battle, and now they tell me I must … ." His face twisted into a grimace of frustration and anger. "How much ground will be lost, how many lives wasted while I take part in this pointless exercise?" Taking a deep breath, he turned away and began to change into his robe.

She almost told him that she had nothing to do with his choosing and would rather be fighting alongside her company as well, but she did not. She simply dressed in the robe and waited. He did not say another word for the entire twenty two days, simply settling into position. Her body refused to relax, and the coupling ached. Not the fault of carelessness or enmity on his part. They knew nothing about and cared nothing for the other. Duty could hardly take the place of caring, even in its smallest measure. Luckily for the empire, comfort was not vital to success of the hitarul.

Still, it wasn't until the deeper bond formed, the inevitable sharing of selves and memory, that Tashac truly wished to be anywhere else. Endless visions of slaughter and death assailed her, filling her with a horror and a despair that had little to do with the intent of the gasin at her back. No … the true pain came from the knowledge that this avatar of the perfect warrior exemplified what her people had become. Antecessors, so much hatred and contempt for life! So much lust to crush and kill. Even his people were merely tools or weapons to be used and discarded.

Her median vir formed the opposite of everything she cherished … so far from her beloved Merol that she didn't even consider them of the same race. And so, the long weeks of hitarul became an agony to endure. How could she bring children into an empire that wished only to turn them into machines of war—empty and soulless, lacking joy or love? Tears leaked from her eyes even in stasis as her heart longed for Merol's arms … to touch a soul that still saw light instead of a million shades of ebony despair, that smelled and tasted more than death.

When the hitarul broke, Javik stood, composed himself and walked out the door. Tashac curled into a ball, hugging her knees until Merol came looking for her. She never heard from Javik again, not when their children entered the galaxy, nor when they left it all too soon. Well, they were never truly his children. Their father had adored them, held them, sang to them, and mourned them.

§§

In a wave of exquisite sorrow, the memory drew back, allowing Shepard to focus on the prothean gripping her throat. Hatred … thick, flowing sewage ... fouled her to the core as she stared into those eyes. After everything she sacrificed for her people … for her empire … they sent that soulless husk forward to create the anathema to the empire she remembered and loved?

"Javik." That time the name came out as a low, raspy growl, the sound grinding from her crushed throat. The shock on his face, the widening of his eyes, made her smile and poured strength into her. Stabbing her arms up between his, she exploded from his hold. "Why did it have to be you?" she demanded, shoving him. "Of all the noble exemplars of what it meant to be Prothean ... why you?"

She saw that he'd read enough of her nervous system while he choked her to understand her words. He retreated, slamming back into his pod. Shepard lunged at him, hands clawing for his kepala, her thumbs digging in a few centimetres to either side of the front, pinching off both a nerve and an artery. She grinned down into his eyes, wading happily in the shock she saw there. "Why you, Javik? Why preserve the empty, black heart of our race when Mahart eclipsed you as leader and Diagul as a warrior?"

Mouth open, gasping, but teeth bared, he asked, his voice a low but almost musical snarl, "Ungal zelaphik huul?"

"How do I know you, Avatar of Vengeance ... cold, dessicated corpse of the Prothean Empire?" An ugly grin twisted her face and she dug her thumbs in, emotional manure making her gag so hard she almost threw up.

Tashac's memories whispered a gentle warning that if Shepard pressed much harder, she'd crush the vital arteries.

Heeding it, she loosened her grip. "Look deep, Commander Javik." Shepard jerked her head a little, beckoning for him to read her. "Go ahead, I won't kill. Not yet anyway. Read me."

Blue-fingered hands closed around her forearms, and she saw flashes of his life, his memories and knowledge passing through the bond. Surprise sent a shock through her when he reached deeper and found the beacon memories. After a moment, the prothean went limp in her hands. The decades between Tashac's joining and his internment had proven educational but not kind.

"Tashac, junkil ganik huul? Jek, wenginl kuna kuhik diwal kaw njla huul?" he asked, then after a moment, repeated the questions in human common. Handy as hell, the ability to learn things in seconds. "Tashac? How can this be? Are there others who survived in this way?"

"Shepard?" Miranda staggered to her feet, her eyes looking unfocused and hazy, her face slack. Standing at the end of the pod, she'd obviously taken a much stronger hit than Shepard. "What … ?" The operative stumbled forward a couple of steps, hands coming up a second too late to brace her against the pod and she fell forward into it. A thin line of blood trickled down her forehead from a small wound, no doubt from her head bashing into the door frame. She opened her omnitool, her pistol held far too loosely for Shepard's liking. "I'm calling for help."

Shepard turned back to the prothean, to discover Javik's eyes still fixed on her. Shepard let him go and stepped away, moving sideways to ease the pistol from the operative's hand before their guest recovered enough to make a grab for it. Shooting a glare at the prothean that crackled with warning, she said. "You. Don't move. We've got some talking to do."

When he tilted his head to the left, the prothean equivalent of a nod, she slipped an arm around Miranda's shoulders and eased the stunned woman toward the door. "It's okay, Miranda. I've got this in hand. Have the doctor check you out." She palmed the control. "Doctor! Miranda took a blow to the head. Could you take a look at her, please?"

Levelling a firm glare on the operative, Shepard made it clear that she intended to brook no argument. She and Javik had a few things to work out, and Miranda could only complicate matters. "Get checked out. By the time you're finished, I'll have Javik sorted."

Miranda tried to argue, but could barely focus on Shepard's face let alone get the words out in the right order, allowing the captain to transfer her to the doctor's assistance without resistance.

Shepard watched the two women for a second, taking some deep breaths as she tried to wall up Tashac and her extremely virulent feelings about the father of her median children. Regardless of how the takun felt about him, he remained the last living prothean, and the only living being in the galaxy with any experience fighting the full might of the Reapers. They needed him.

That idea finally broke through the anger and distress. Shepard set her face to impassive and nodded as she turned to walk back through the door. Stopping just far enough inside to let it close behind her, she stared down the long room at the prothean.

"Who are you?" Javik demanded, some of his composure returning. "How do you possess the memories of Tashac Jacar and Merol Natil?" He bristled, arrogance settling around him like a mantle. "Are you with these primitives? These barbarians with their scalpels and syringes?"

Shepard shook her head. "My name is Captain Shepard." She stepped around the pod, removing the barrier between them. "Tashac lives in my head because I used a couple of the beacons left behind by your people. They warned us about the Reapers … showed us what had been done to help us fight back. I died just after defeating Nazara … the Vanguard." Crossing her arms, she leaned back on one hip, relaxed but ready. "This organization brought me back from the dead to keep fighting."

He stared at her for long seconds, then leaned back, mimicking her posture.

Shepard smiled, a cold, hard grimace that pressed her lips paper-thin. "But you knew all that." A laugh even colder and harder fell out after the words. "Don't play with me, Javik. I'm not an idiot, and I don't like being yanked around." She shifted hips and let her head tip off to one side. Two could play at snarky arrogance. "Here's the score. Tashac hates you. I mean, with the sort of burning passion that would see me removing every tender, squishy bit of your anatomy with pliers."

Sweet baby Jesus, Tashac. Down girl.

Pulling back from Tashac's gallery of pointy, horrible torture, she shrugged as if helpless in the face of so much violent ugliness. "She considers you every sad, empty, broken, wretched thing your people turned into during the war."

Javik straightened, drawing his head back on his neck. Good. She needed to set him back a little. Despite needing every bit of intel and cunning inside that massive, flat skull, the Milky Way would crack open and troptastic-fruitstravaganza-flavoured gummy hanar would pour out before she let him take over.

"Now, you're the last … the only living being to have fought the Reapers en masse." She let her eyebrows pop up a bit for that, pouring a little earnest into the mix. He'd read her, he'd be able to interpret her facial expressions. "We need to know what strategies worked and what didn't. We need to know any weaknesses you discovered." She leaned toward him a little more with each word. One hand buttressing against the pod, she did her best to loom over him. Embarrassment flashed as she imagined a Chihuahua trying to intimidate a varren.

Throwing it off before it could set her face aflame, she focused. "We need your help in this fight, so I'm offering you a chance to do what you were sent here to do … exact revenge for your people." Pushing away from the pod, she closed the metres between them.

"Are you offering me a choice, Captain?" he said, his voice soft and musical. "Or am I to be a prisoner?"

Tashac warmed a little, not toward the gasin, but … oh how she missed the lyrical rhythms and complex tones of her people's language. A smile softened Shepard's face before she could police it back to neutral.

"Of course, you have a choice," Shepard replied. "And no, you are not a prisoner." She let out a long sigh, her shoulders and face relaxing. "Work with me, obey my orders, get along with our allies. That's option one. Option two: you can go back in the pod. I'll freeze you and find somewhere nice and safe away from the organization." She shrugged as his lips lifted into a snarl at that idea. "Or, when we reach a spaceport … go your own way." She offered her hands palms down in the prothean gesture of trust. "You can check if you think I'm lying, or if you doubt that fucking with me ends up with you back in the freezer section."

The door opened. "Shepard, I … ." Liara's voice ended in a sort of high-pitched, up-turned squeak. "I … uh … . Um, Shepard?"

Shepard waited for Javik to step away, then turned a little to include Liara without turning her back on the prothean. "Liara, this is Commander Javik. He's your missing prothean from Eden Prime." Shepard nodded her head to call the asari over. "I was just asking him if he wanted to assist us in preparing for the Reapers." Looking back at Javik, she waited for a moment before offering her hands again.

"I will assist you, human." He made a rough, warbling sound deep in his throat. "You will need it. The last I heard of your species, they made weapons out of sharpened stone and lived in caves."

"As did the Protheans once a very long time ago." She held his stare with an earnest one. "This cycle came early. Perhaps you can help us figure out why."

"Why does not matter. Defeating them does." He stepped back and turned away from her hands, the sign of respect at odds with his words. "Why is for old takune sitting on fat cushions."

Liara blanched a little and looked to Shepard, her eyes leaving the prothean for the first time. "Captain?"

"Liara, can you help settle our guest on board? Please, find him somewhere out of the way to bunk." Her gaze slid from Liara to Javik. His presence chafed against her like coarse sandpaper, and she wanted … needed … him gone. "He'll let you know what he needs."

"Of course, Captain, I'd be honoured." Liara held out a hand to usher him from the space. "I'm very excited to meet you, Commander. As an archaeologist, I've dedicated my career to studying your people." She strode to the door, then stopped, waiting.

Javik took a step forward. "You are asari?"

Liara smiled and nodded, straightening a little. "Yes."

Shepard turned her back to the asari and leaned into the prothean before he could follow. "She's studied prothean ruins, Javik. She holds a very generous view of your people. You might think it naive and silly, but it's generous. Be kind to her." The last four words dropped like stones in deep, black water. She stiffened all the plains of her face, meeting him with granite. "She's young."

He leaned in as well, his voice growling roughly as he asked, "Was that ever an excuse in the empire?" Those gold, double-pupiled eyes bored straight through her, a stare she met with a stiff smile.

"Yes, well … the empire died, Javik, and it died for a reason. You're one gasin, alone in a really big, new galaxy. If nothing else, we're allies in the same battle. Just be kind." She stepped back and turned away, holding out her arm. Time for both she and Tashac to get a little space. "Oh, and you're going to have guards. Be kind to them as well. If you behave yourself, I'll call them off."

He stared at her so long, her hand drifted to her weapon, but then he nodded, one single, sharp tilt of his head.

Shepard returned the nod, moved to open her omnitool, then sighed and walked over to the comm panel. She needed a functional omnitool first off. "Miranda? Our guest is ready to move into his quarters and requires an escort."

"Understood, Captain. They'll be right there."

"Roger that." Shepard closed the channel.

"I did not return when our offspring departed Tashac's body because I was ashamed," Javik said from behind her, his voice too soft to carry beyond them. "War was all I knew when I entered our bond. It hurt her. What I was hurt her." He stepped up beside Shepard, but didn't look at her. "I was ashamed."

Tashac remained silent, content behind the walls as Shepard watched the last prothean passed Liara, walking into medbay. Well, how about that? She crooked a finger at the asari. "Liara? A second?"

"Captain?" The asari strode back, walking a little sideways, as if afraid that the prothean would disappear.

"Be careful," Shepard warned her, earnest and firm. "He was provoked, but he's killed two people and injured a bunch more." She passed the asari the sidearm. "Keep a hand on it, and keep the biotics ready. He's a very strong biotic."

Liara's expression settled. "Understood, Captain." She stared at Shepard, mouth half-open, as if she had more to say, then just shook her head a little. "I'll stay sharp."

The medbay door opened, three armed and seasoned-looking soldiers stepping through. One stepped forward. "Dr. T'Soni ... sir, if you'd follow me." With great precision and steady hands on their weapons, they surrounded the prothean and led him from the room.

Letting out a long breath of relief, Shepard let her head hang, the tension finally rolling out of her shoulders and neck. As she closed her eyes, she felt a pair of large, warm hands knead the muscles. She smiled, content to savour what her brain gave her rather than enduring the pain it would take to draw more of the memory forward.

She was free. The smile spread as the cell doors cracked open, the galaxy and her life creeping through like a cool breeze on a hot day. Yes, the pain drained her and being in unknown territory with uncertain allies terrified her, but she was ... well, maybe not free, but moving in the right direction.

That thought spurred her forward. Casting one last look over the ridiculous amount of computing power, she strode to the door. Time to get to it. She stepped out into the bright lights of medbay and looked around. "Hey, Doc. Where's Miranda?"

The doctor chuckled, but it came off more exasperated than amused. "As soon as I scanned her head, gave her an analgesic, and applied some medigel, she left." The young woman leaned back as Shepard approached. Drawing her lab coat closed, she laced her fingers over her stomach. "I'm going to be tranquilizing the lot of you within the month, aren't I?"

Grinning, Shepard shook her head, feeling renewed admiration for the doctor's adaptability and guts. "I give it a week if we see action." She wiggled her eyebrows and strode past. "It's a thankless job, and the only real option is to become terrifying. Thanks for the drugs, Doc. Much appreciated."

She stepped through the door into a common area. The galley and a couple of tables stood to her right, a balding gentleman preparing something on the stove. She turned and took a couple of steps toward him. "Hi." Smiling, she lifted her hand in a short wave. "Captain Jane Shepard. I'm looking for Operative Lawson."

"Operative Lawson is in the Briefing Room," a pleasant female voice answered before the other fellow could.

"Thank you." Shepard gave the cook a nod before turning her attention to the voice. "Would I have the pleasure of speaking to the ship's AI?"

"Captain?"

Shepard swore that the voice sounded surprised. She shook her head and headed toward the center mass of the ship. No doubt that was where she'd find the elevator or stairs, like on the Normandy. "I'm an engineer," she continued. "I saw that computing power in the server room. No way that's just running some cyberwarfare program." Shrugging, she corrected herself. "Well, not an ordinary one, anyway."

Rounding the corner, she let out a victorious little hum. Elevator. "So, quantum blue-box? Come on, you can tell me, I'm your captain." Her good mood spread through her body like the tingle of Hallex or a strong drink.

"Yes, Captain. The crew call me EDI," the voice replied. "I am the Enhanced Defense Intelligence."

Shepard palmed the control to summon the elevator. Part of her insisted that she should be more concerned about an AI created by the same people who'd brought her back to life. But then, the other part said that she'd known good AI's, and she'd defeated the bad ones. Whatever this one proved to be, she'd deal.

Meanwhile … . "Do you fly the ship along with Lt. Cortez?"

"I do not have access to most ship systems as a precautionary measure."

The elevator arrived, the door opening. Shepard half glanced up at the ceiling. "Where am I going, EDI?" She stepped inside and turned, her hand hovering over the controls.

"The briefing room is situated on deck two, aft corridor, the combat information center."

"Thank you." After pressing the control, Shepard collapsed back against the wall. Her head still rang at about a nine, her body at a four despite the drugs. Oh well, maybe she could get some real sleep in a real bed as soon as they sorted out their destination.

Damn, the elevator was as slow as the one on the Normandy. "So, EDI, if you don't manage ship systems, or fly … what's your deal? You defend against cyber attacks during battle? Perform your own? What else? Analysis? Data mining?"

"That is correct, Captain. I provide data and situational analysis during missions. Beyond that, I cannot interface with the ship's systems."

The elevator began to slow. "So, they're worried you're going to lose your artificial mind and kill us all if you can control the ship?" She lifted her eyebrows, her expression teasing despite her audience. "You aren't planning on that, are you?"

"I am not currently formulating any plans to kill the crew."

Shepard grinned. "Excellent, that's my favourite thing about you so far, EDI." She stepped up to the door and then through when it opened. "And don't worry, it's not personal. They expect me to go nuts and kill everyone, too."

A bright laugh greeted that, a familiar head of red hair turning away from a console to the right of the galaxy map. "That's not entirely true, Shepard," Kelly said, a wide smile forming beneath teasing eyes. "We don't expect it." She shrugged. "We just consider it a possibility."

"Kelly," Shepard took a deep breath and slipped on her captain uniform before greeting the young woman. "Sneaking in personal email on company time?" Turning to look over the rest of the CIC, Shepard's eyes widened, and her brow lifted. She took a few steps toward the stairs up to the hologram of the vessel and placed her hands on the cool metal of the railing. The warm tingle from earlier spread out from her bones to heat her muscles, security settling in, strong and steady despite the whisper in her head that warned her against trusting it.

"It's almost like home," she whispered, eyes following the familiar lines and curves. "They really did just grab the Normandy's blueprints and go to town, didn't they?" She pivoted toward Kelly. "Anderson's going to be jealous. This ship is … amazing."

Kelly gripped Shepard's hand when the captain stopped next to her, but Shepard gently removed herself from the contact. "How are you feeling? Whatever the hell that was in the docking bay … ." She shuddered. "I've never seen anything like it. It was like … " She fumbled for words. "... like it was trying to possess you … like some sort of demon."

Shepard's eyebrows rose as she pursed her lips and waggled her head a little side to side. "That's about right, but Harbinger is going to be something we are prepared to deal with. It looks frightening, but it's similar to a remote operator fighting using a mech." The expression transformed easily into a grin. "So, what are you doing here?" She peered over Kelly's shoulder. "Crew reports?" She read a couple of lines. "Have you already sent them to the terminal in my quarters?"

"Yes, ma'am. I am your yeoman, after all." Kelly gave her a jaunty salute. The skin between her brows crinkled as she dropped the hand. "Actually, once we land somewhere, can we sit down and go over the crew roster and the team dossiers that Miranda sent, Captain? There are a few colourful personalities who concern me."

Shepard nodded. "Of course, Yeoman. I just introduced myself to Jack and the prothean, Commander Javik." Taking another breath, she squared her shoulders. "They're both strong biotics, and Javik was fighting Collectors and Reapers for decades before he went into stasis. They should prove to be valuable assets if we can keep them on an even keel." A tight-lipped smile and quirked eyebrow accompanied her words. "That's going to be your department. Keep an eye on them and let me know if anything sets off your alarms."

"Assets, Shepard? You sound like Miranda." The redhead's brow furrowed, her eyes confused when Shepard stepped away from a friendly shoulder butt.

A soft sigh preceded Shepard's words. Time to head into the adjustment phase. "I'm Captain Shepard now, Kelly. Unless we're in private, it's business as usual. These people may eventually become family as the Normandy crew did, but for now, I'll settle for respect. Okay? It's time for Shepard the crazy lady to go in a drawer."

Kelly nodded, a warm smile signalling her understanding. "Yes, ma'am." She saluted. "Miranda is in the briefing room, and may I suggest that you go through the armory to talk to Vincent? What happened on the station has him pretty upset."

Shepard let out a long sigh, as she turned slowly, taking in her new home. A sad smile accompanied the memory of Joker yelling snarky bad jokes down the length of the CIC, and Sparky giving fitness reports over his shoulder as his Marines jogged circuits around the galaxy map. It wouldn't be the same without them, but it wasn't like she could ask Anderson to give up his entire crew. The smiled melted away as she turned to look for the armoury door.

"So, professionally, then … Captain, are you really on board with this mission? Leading this crew?" Kelly asked, her voice too low to carry. "You're not just telling us what we want to hear so you can jump ship?"

"I'm here to work, Yeoman. Miranda might be a lot of things, but I've never doubted her dedication to the mission. Hell, she took the worst I could throw at her and never gave in to the temptation to put me back under." Shepard glanced over her shoulder. "She's earned some conditional trust. I wouldn't have lasted two days before I threw me out an airlock and went with plan B."

Kelly's face dropped, comical in her surprise. "All that … ." She closed her mouth, jaw clacking shut. "It was all an act?"

"Not all of it, Miss Chambers." One hand lifted in a small wave, and Shepard headed for the door, her knees starting to tremble again. She needed to move quickly before she collapsed and the crew had to watch her carried back to medbay. That would throw far too much grist into the rumour mill.

"Vincent," she called as she stepped through the door. "What's going on? Gun rehab?" She stopped and looked around, letting out a low whistle. "Wow, I think they bought every gun in the universe." Turning a slow circle, she admired the wide array of weapons of every sort. "Is that a Widow?" She strode over and ran reverent fingers over the gun before moving to lift it.

"Careful, Shepard," the physiotherapist said, "that thing weighs almost as much as you do." He walked over and held out a hand, but didn't move to help.

Lifting the large gun, Shepard shrugged. "It's heavy, but I could carry it through a mission. I wonder if it would shatter my arm if I fired it." Meeting his eyes, she frowned, her head shaking a little. "What am I, Vincent?" she asked, her tone serious rather than despairing, seeking a straight answer. "What did they turn me into?" The gun sagged toward the tabletop. "Before they brought me back, I was strong, but this is something else entirely. I need to know what I can expect from this body."

He lifted it from her hands and laid it back amidst the others. "You have tech all the way through you, Shepard. They laced your muscles with filaments to enhance your strength and carry medigel more effectively. They wove special carbon webs around your bones to make them harder to break. Your heart has servo assisted valves, and even your lungs process oxygen more efficiently." He shrugged and turned, lifting a hip to sit on the edge of the table. "You're you, just a little stronger, a little faster, a little quicker to heal."

She filed that information away. Hopefully, she could find Chakwas and get a rundown from someone she trusted to let her in on all the warts. "Six million dollar man," she whispered, then shook her head, dismissing it.

She hopped up next to him and looked over, schooling her face into the professional mask of command. "Kelly said you weren't doing very well with what happened on the station." How anyone could be, she didn't know, but the obvious statement gave him an opening.

"You shitting me? Of course I'm not okay with it." He looked down and shook his head. "All those people. More people … gone … just like … ." He lapsed into silence, but she let him keep it, knowing he had more to say. It took a few seconds, but then he let out a long sigh. "I wasn't always a physiotherapist, Shepard. I worked for the Alliance. Gro-Po at first, but then I got noticed by the right people, and they recommended me for ICT. Never got there, though. My team were sent out to guard a colony. Everything went to hell."

Her lips pressed together. Yeah, he'd shot far too well for a physiotherapist. Still, she left it to him to talk.

"Saw some really terrible shit, you know? Lost good people. Decided I wanted a different life. Miranda recruited me on Arcturus. I had field medic training, and had been working in the Alliance hospital, so she offered to help me get the training to do this." He looked up, those dark brown eyes filled with … determination and fear … and strength … a lot of strength, but something else as well. Thick walls kept her from it. It was either a terrible pain or a big secret. Maybe both.

She braced the heels of her hands against the edge of the table and leaned forward. "Do you want to get out when we make landfall?" she asked, keeping her voice pitched low and neutral. Suddenly, she wanted him to stay, but she didn't want to influence him at all. He needed to decide to be there as much as she did. Especially if things got as bad as she anticipated.

He looked over at her, staring into her eyes for a second. "You as good as they say you are?"

Shepard chuckled and shook her head. "I'm good, and I'm smart, but I'm reckless … well, let's call it unconventional. The key to my success has always been the people around me. Every time I screw up, they help me figure out a way through." She bumped her shoulder against his arm, then rubbed the joint. "Ow, you're just one massive slab of muscle, aren't you?"

"Hell, yeah." He chuckled, a warm, throaty sound and hopped down. "Work damned hard to be one." Once standing next to her, he nodded. "Give me a couple of days to think about it?"

Shepard hopped down, warmth spreading through her. She might not have the old team, but she was gathering some hopeful prospects. "Sure, take all the time you want. Just, in the meantime, if we end up deep in the shit, you pitch in and carry your weight. Deal?"

The large man reached up to rub the back of his neck, then nodded and gave her a crooked grin. "Deal." He turned and walked away a few steps before turning back. "You really aren't as loco as you pretend to be, are you?"

Shepard just shrugged and pointed to the side door. "Is the briefing room through here?"

"Yeah. First door on the right. The one with the big writing next to it that says, Briefing Room." He chuckled and went back to his work.

Shepard heard voices as soon as she stepped through the door. Miranda, and she didn't sound pleased. The operative would never stoop to shouting, but the tightness in her voice rang familiar. She was arguing with someone.

Before Shepard even had time to react, EDI spoke up, startling Shepard enough that she jumped. "Operative Lawson. Captain Shepard is at the door."

Shepard let out a quick puff of air and glanced up. "I see how it is, EDI."

Shepard palmed the door control, the portal opening just in time for her to see the large conference table lift the last hand width or so into place. A galaxy map blinked on above it, and then Miranda turned from a small control panel to face Shepard. "The guards and Dr. T'Soni report that the prothean, Javik, is settling into his quarters in the Port Cargo hold. Dr. T'Soni sent me a requisition for a few things to make him more comfortable."

"Who were you talking to?" the captain asked, walking into the room. She kept her face and body relaxed despite the doubt that sank sharp teeth into her guts.

Miranda shook her head. "No one, Shepard. I was simply consulting EDI to plan our destination. We have several civilians aboard and need supplies." She turned back to the galaxy map. "The closest spaceport is this colony." She zoomed in on a system in the Terminus. "Freedom's Progress."

"But, you know, that old Grinch was so smart and so slick," Shepard muttered, stepping up beside the operative. "He thought up a lie, and he thought it up quick!" ¹

"Excuse me, Captain?" Miranda asked, her brow furrowing and eyes narrowing in a way that left Shepard no doubt at all that she'd heard every word.

"Nothing, just muttering." A sick feeling rolling around in her gut again, she turned to the galaxy map. Had she read everything wrong? Could Miranda be trusted? Shepard had been so sure she could, and yet … . Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath and focused on the road forward. If Miranda intended to betray her, it would happen one way or another, and a lot of colonists still needed the Collectors shut down.

"So, Freedom's Progress, you said?"

1 How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Dr. Seuss. Published in the United States by Random House. November 24, 1957 renewed 1985

(A-N: Okay, so rewrites are a thing. Never post a first draft, because you inevitably go ... what was the character thinking? So, yeah. Newer, cleaner ... bionic chapter with Shepard acting as she should be. I think she got into the happy sauce or something. And we are on a collision course for Freedom's Progress.

I've had followers dropping like flies the last few days. Not sure if it is an FFN glitch, because it has been behaving really strangely, but if it isn't ... I'm sorry to have lost people's interest. Inevitable, I suppose, but still sad to see people go. Especially so close ... so very close. :D

To those who are still here and still enjoying the trials and tribulations. Thanks. Thanks so much, and I'm glad you're still enjoying Shepard's adventures. Now, on to Freedom's Progress! I'm getting so excited, it's nuts.)