Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, save the OCs you will encounter in this particular story. It will not merely be a re-telling of the ME story as we know it, so expect changes and (hopefully) surprising and enjoyable twists! This story is rated M for a reason and will contain future scenes of violence, gore, sex, and various other mature situations. There will also be copious amounts of wonderful, wonderful angst. Please consider yourself warned.
***Note: My Shepard has the default facial settings the game provides you with because, hell, why mess with perfection? This story picks up in the world of ME2 and is expected to continue in to ME3 and beyond.
I hope you enjoy this story! Any and all reviews are appreciated! – Fallon.
Chapter One
Omega Nebula, Sahrabarik System, Aboard the Normandy SR-2, 2185
Shepard found the clasps of his armour without looking and allowed the pieces to fall to the floor, not caring where they ended up.
He groaned as his chest piece came off and his ribs flared, the hit he'd taken from the heavy mech on Freedom's Progress evidently having broken a few.
He bit the inside of his lip as he slowly worked the sweat soaked undershirt up and over his head, letting out a pained hiss as he tossed it across the room.
He pressed his fingers to his side and counted two broken ribs. As the pain flared up again, he cursed himself for being so sloppy.
While investigating the disappearance of every human in Freedom's Progress, they'd come across a group of quarians led by Tali who were searching for Veetor, a young and nervous member of the Fleet on Pilgrimage. He'd been so relieved to see her again, but her suspicion was evident enough and that had hurt more than he'd expected it to.
I can't blame her for being cautious…
They'd broken up into two teams to fight their way past the mechs Veetor had reprogramed only to be confronted with a massive heavy mech. He hated being in a situation like that, confronted by an imposing enemy with two unknowns watching his back. All the training in the world didn't count for anything if you couldn't trust the people behind you.
He hoped they'd end up proving themselves to him. If he was going to take on the Collectors he needed more than their assurances and more trusted faces than just Joker.
Shepard stripped off the remaining pieces of armour and stepped into the bathroom. As he approached the shower, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and stopped.
As much as his instincts told him not to trust Cerberus, he was grateful for being given a second chance. That being said, looking at his reflection made him sick.
Glowing orange lines spread across his chest and arms in bursts that wrapped around his body like cracks in armour, reminding him that he was more cybernetics and tech than man now. The tattoos he'd had when he died remained, bringing back painful memories of his life prior to the Alliance, and while it was evident Miranda and her team had taken great lengths at restoring the detail etched in his skin, he wished she'd left them out.
Now his left arm, tattooed from collar bone to wrist, bore the same evidence of cybernetic upgrades the rest of his body did, bits of technology knitting his skin together and filling in where bone was missing, as well as the images of battling demons, dragons, smoke and fire he'd died with.
The scars that had marred his chest and stomach were gone and the skin over his chiseled stomach was tight and fresh, devoid of all evidence of his years of military service. Gone too was the thick scar that had wrapped around his right thigh, a souvenir from an encounter with batarian bouncer on Omega during his youth. The patches of discolouration that had been on his calves had been erased, all evidence of those thick, rough scars was gone but how he'd earned them – the events of Akuze – remained.
Memories of gore and screams so vivid a shiver ran down his spine trailed through his mind…
He couldn't help but wish Miranda's team had had the decency to omit those memories from his mind, maybe then the nightmares would subside.
But they had only been interested in bringing him back as he had been, not chipping away at memories which might have compromised that.
He turned around and looked over his shoulder to see that the tattoo of a massive sun also remained, dominating the majority of his upper back. Only now a rather large patch of cybernetic lines obscured it, adding its orange glow to the bursts of the sun's rays which had been so lovingly applied to his skin.
Cursing under his breath, Shepard quickly pivoted on his heels and punched the mirror with every ounce of strength he possessed. Fueled by anger and self-loathing, he didn't want to see the evidence of his death and revival any longer. The mirror shattered out in ripples from where his fist made contact, spreading across the mirror until no inch of clear, usable mirror remained.
Shepard clenched his teeth as his knuckles throbbed and blood flowed over his fingers, not bothering with looking down at the damage and instead headed to the shower.
He turned the water on and sighed as the ice cold water flowed down his back. He didn't move to change the temperature even though it made his teeth chatter despite his best efforts to control it. Cold showers were something he'd grown accustomed to in the military. He'd never exceeded the regulation three minute limit placed on such a luxury, never once used an ounce of warm water, because that was what was expected of him as a solider. Discomfort was dealt with, endured, not complained about.
And those limits and regulations - while truly miserable at times - were something Shepard had always abided by and never questioned. The strictness of the order and dedication the Alliance demanded of him gave him something secure and structured to cling onto and shape himself by. It had saved him during a time in his life when self-destruction and anger had dominated him. More than that, he'd found what he was good at - his place in life.
Once - and only once - had he gone against the Alliance regs he'd always believed so strongly in.
Ash…
He pressed his forehead against the cold metal of the shower and closed his eyes. Not knowing where she was ate away at him and was all he had thought about since leaving Lazarus Station. She was his slip up, his one selfish act since joining the Alliance. And his feelings for her had cost him; Kaidan was dead because of him, because of a call he'd made.
His hand pulsed with pain as he clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles went white. Blood seeping between his fingers and was washed away, the cold water numbing his bloodied knuckles.
Two years…he'd lost two years.
The tension waned from his body and he gave a frustrated sigh as the reality of the past twenty-four hours set in.
Two years had come and gone…
And he was smart enough to know he wasn't going to be able to get them back.
Satent System, Pylos Nebula, Nafna Station, 2185
With a flick of her wrist, Eira sent the wave of mechs approaching her hurdling through the air. They collided with the reinforced wall with a loud thud and screech, metal scraping against metal, pieces of armour plating and tech shattering upon impact and flying out in every direction. She redirected her biotic energy, backing up her shields as pieces of the mechs flew past her.
The siren sounded throughout the hall, signaling the start of another round.
Over the whine of the siren Eira heard the hiss of an access hatch open and the tell-tale sounds of a mech emerging.
She reacted, ducking out of the way with a roll, just in time to avoid a missile the heavy mech had shot at her. It hit the crates piled in the corner of the room, sending large chunks of jagged metal shooting through the air.
Again she flared her barriers and redirected the shrapnel toward the mech, burying them in the mech's joints and causing its movements to slow. It tried to raise its arm to fire off another missile, but it only made it to a point before jamming, a piece of metal jutting out from its shoulder.
Eira spun out of cover and quickly called a mass of biotic energy to her fingertips. She allowed the energy to settle in her palm only for a moment, taking that chance to relish the invigorating feeling of that raw energy coursing through her, before heaving it at the mech with a strained groan. Her biotic blast spiraled through the air and hit the mech with a deafening smack. She remained in control and with a twist of her fingers, forced the blue waves of energy into the holes the shrapnel had left in its armour. The mech's form groaned as she exploited its weaknesses and ripped it apart from the inside.
With one final blast of energy, Eira reduced the mech to a pile of smouldering pieces.
Panting, she stumbled backwards and slouched forward, resting her hands on her knees as she regained control of her erratic heartbeat.
She heard the loudspeaker buzz and crackle as it was activated.
"Enough, Eira, you can come out now."
Taking in a deep breath, she walked to the exit on the other side of the room.
This had been the third time this week she had been in the combat simulation room and she was exhausted. The faint beginning of a migraine pulsed in her temples and was made considerably worse by the bright lights she had been training under. She paused in her step, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger as she tightly clenched her eyes shut.
Damn these lights!
She doubted she could take another round anytime soon, but she knew better than to speak of limitations to Corrine.
She was Project Valkyrie…she had none.
Eira ascended the stairs and entered the control room for the simulator. Corrine quickly dismissed the techs, who all scurried from the room like terrified children, and began typing her findings into the computer.
"You did well today." She said without looking up, "How are you feeling?"
Eira bit the inside of her lip.
Corrine Knowles was the head of Project Valkyrie, a brilliant scientist and the closest thing to a mother Eira had. She was stern, almost cold at times, but she had always insisted that everything she did was for Eira's own good. And Corinne did care about her. When tests and training pushed Eira too hard, she was always there to comfort her through headaches that brought her to her knees and, when she was a little girl, fend of the nightmares and fears of monsters under the bed.
Eira didn't want to let her down.
"It felt amazing taking down that last mech," not a lie, "I felt in control of my biotics, like I was in my element."
Corrine turned to her, a satisfied grin on her face, "Excellent. This is your element, dear. You were moulded for combat; we've fallen woefully behind in preparing you for that, but you've done well." Her smile faded some, "However I sense a 'but' coming up."
Eira shifted uncomfortably on her feet, the weight of Corrine's gaze making her feel incredibly small.
"But…the lights are still a problem." She nervously clasped her hands together and twisted her fingers, "They make the headaches worse."
She took a small step back, preparing herself for the consequences her disappointment was sure to raise. Mainly, that look in Corrine's eyes she dreaded; the look that could make her feel like she was a child again getting scolded for using her biotics to pull pranks on the techs.
Corrine sighed and ran her hands through her dark brown hair, "Have you been meditating like your doctor recommended?"
Eira's gaze fell to the floor, "Y-Yes. Before lights out every night, I promise."
Corrine's fist slammed down on the desk and Eira jumped despite her best efforts not to.
"Then why does this problem remain, Eira!"
Tense silence hung in the air around them.
Eira's lips parted as if to speak, but the words remained caught on the tip of her tongue.
Corrine removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes.
"I'm sorry, dear, I'm just tired. I shouldn't be taking it out on you." She looked back up, the hint of a reassuring smile on her lips, "Head to bed, Eira, you look like death."
Eira forced herself to smile, thanked Corrine, and made the long and lonely walk back to her room.
She passed the security checkpoints leading up to her room without saying a word. Her guards knew the routine; they'd been doing it every day and night for as long as she had.
Eira stepped into her room and immediately dimmed the lights. Her head was throbbing, the confrontation with Corrine evidently enough to ignite a full blown migraine, and a stubborn pain had settled in behind her eyes, causing them to tear up.
Groggy and exhausted, Eira stumbled into the bathroom, stripping off pieces of sweat soaked clothing as she went. She brushed back the stray pieces of hair that had worked themselves free of her long braid out of her face and looked at her reflection in the mirror.
Her eyes would have been blue if not for the red tint that distorted them, making them appear lavender to those who only took a quick glance. Her skin was stark pale save for a few sporadic freckles on her shoulders that seemed horribly out of place against skin so white. Eira grumbled under her breath and set about unweaving her hair from the single, long braid that ran down her back. Seemingly devoid of all colour, her silvery white hair only revealed its slight tinges of blond under the right light. She brushed it out using her fingers and frowned.
Corrine had told her it had been a consequence of the eezo she'd be exposed to as a babe in her mother's stomach. The exposure had killed her mother, but Eira survived and had been 'gifted' with biotic abilities so peculiar they were unlike anything ever observed in humans – or so Corrine claimed.
She didn't know what was so special about her biotics; no one had ever come out and told her what made her worthy of any attention.
As far as she was concerned, her biotics were nothing remarkable.
It was just one more thing to blame on element zero.
Eira woke up to the sound of panicked voices echoing down the corridor outside her bedroom. She rolled over and reached blindly for her alarm clock, finding it and bringing it closer to read the time through foggy eyes. It was late and she groaned in fatigue and frustration at the interruption.
She rolled over onto her back, squeezed her eyes closed and tried to wish herself back to sleep.
Someone started banging on her door.
Eira opened her eyes and looked at her door, silently hoping to will the person away.
She'd been having a wonderful dream and longed to return to it. In it, her world was bigger than the space station she'd called home her entire life and she had a real mother, even a father. Her skin, hair and eyes had been normal and her headaches – and her biotics – were non-existent.
Please let me go back to that…
When the sound didn't fade and instead grew closer, she slipped out of bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
"I'm coming, I'm coming." She murmured under her breath in annoyance, more to herself than whoever was banging on her door.
She groaned as the offensive sound made her headache, and by effect, her biotics flare.
Her life had always been quiet. There was the hum of generators, the constant sound of fans coming from the vents above, and the buzzing of whichever machine they had her hooked up to, coupled with the frantic typing of a nameless lab assistant. Only recently had the sounds of the combat simulator been added to that choir, but even now they were at risk of blending into the haze that was her everyday life. That haze, those routines and tests were the noises that filled the days of her life, each of which bled into the other and created a vicious, monotonous cycle.
This new sound had her curious, and scared too if she was honest with herself.
Before she had a chance to reach the door controls, Corrine forced her way through, followed by three armed lab assistants, all of which looked terrified of the very guns they were holding.
"Corrine, what's going on?" Eira asked in a shaky voice, the frazzled look on the scientist's face doing nothing to quiet her own mounting fears.
In the nearly twenty years she had been under Corinne's care, she had never known the woman to wear her emotions so clearly on her face. But now, now she could see everything.
Something was very, very wrong.
"We've got to go, dear." Corinne answered as she crossed the room and grabbed Eira by the wrist, "It isn't safe for you here any more."
Panic shot through her.
She's scared…Corinne is scared…
Eira shook her head as if to clear a fog that muddled her mind, confused by the enter scene that was playing out before her. "What? What do you mean?"
The ground shook and shouts rose from further down the corridor. Corrine shouted over her shoulder for the lab assistants to man the door and then opened the interface of her omni-tool.
"What…what are you doing?" Eira stammered as she watched Corinne work, hopeful for an answer from the woman.
Corinne ignored her and instead spoke into her omni-tool.
"Illusive Man, this is Doctor Corinne Knowles, director of Project Valkyrie on Nafna Station. We've been boarded by an unknown enemy and are suffering heavy losses." She looked at Eira, "Project Valkyrie is secure for the time being but we need backup. Repeat, the project needs extraction!"