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.

***A/N: I'm very sorry this update took so long. Work has been especially crazy lately and I've had little time to have anything remotely resembling a social life let alone time to write (it's really been a very depressing cycle as of late). I hope this chapter makes up for my tardiness and thank you to everyone who has been so patiently waiting for me to get off my ass and write!

Any and all reviews are appreciated! A big thank you goes out to everyone who has added this story to their alerts and/or faves :) – Fallon.

Chapter Seven

"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom" – Anais Nin

Another nightmare pulled him suddenly and violently from his restless slumber.

His fist, clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened, shot out as he sat up, blindly seeking enemies he swore had been right before him. Eyes wide and body shaking, he could feel the heat of Akuze on him and the searing agony as maw acid burned through his hardsuit with petrifying ease and leaching into the skin of his legs. From there it seeped into his veins, the venom coursing through his body with the speed of adrenaline and the gentleness of a torturers' blade.

In his sleep-induced haze, it felt horrifically real; as if his skin was aflame and melting away under the acid as it had on Akuze. He reached down in a panic, running his hands over his calves and then roughly dragging his nails over his skin. When only faint red streaks appeared and not the boils and pealing infected tissue of thresher maw acid exposure, his heart rate calmed some.

Fuck, get a grip on yourself, Shepard…

He shook off the remainder of the confusion his nightmare had left on him and he righted himself, grasping for the sheet that had fallen to his waist in the commotion of his waking. He continued to inwardly berate himself. In his mind, his nightmares – his secret cowardice – was an affront to the sacrifices others suffered to bring him back and the faith every last person who believed in him held.

Shepard's eyes darted around the room, searching for some hidden threat, as his hand trailed up his stomach to clench his sweat-soaked chest. His heart was beating fiercely in his chest and he took heaving, deep breaths in an effort to calm its frantic movements.

"Commander, shall I summon Doctor Chakwas?" EDI's voice broke the silence in the room, "Your heart rate is uncharacteristically high and –

"No!" Shepard coughed, lingering panic coursing through his veins and straining his voice, "No, don't EDI." He inhaled sharply, "I'm…I'm fine."

"Shepard –

"I said no, EDI!" He snarled through clenched teeth, "Drop it!"

EDI didn't reply.

Shepard flopped back down onto the bed and draped his arm over his eyes. Sweat beaded and trailed down his chest, running over the dog tags Shepard never took off and lazily trickling down his hip bones. He was exhausted. Since leaving Lazarus Station he had yet to have a solid night's sleep. Memories of Akuze, of losing Kaidan and the Battle of the Citadel kept replaying in his mind and it pissed him off.

Before dying he had dealt with it all – the guilt, the shame and the shock of everything he'd been through. It had still hurt, but the nightmares hadn't been so frequent or nearly as vivid. Now that he was back it was like every night brought about the reliving of the worst and most painful moments in his life.

"No, no, no…" Shepard mumbled desperately under his breath.

Unbidden, a memory that had remained tucked in the far recesses of his mind resurfaced and his body tensed. Suddenly he was a teenager again, rebelling against his parents and living a destructive life on Omega. He was in the cramped bathroom of Vertigo with Luca snorting red sand off filthy sinks covered in questionable stains. The bass of the club's music amplified the sweet dizzying feeling that came with 'dusting up' and the straight shots of whiskey fueled his anger.

Rage had dominated his life in those days, pure unadulterated anger that had led to him making stupid, dangerous choices. It had led him onto the dance floor that night; to the biggest, meanest batarian he'd ever seen. He couldn't remember what the batarian had said to provoke him, it hadn't mattered then, but he'd ended up in the alley, somehow separated from Luca, throwing punches and taking hits that would have downed the average man. But anger, whiskey, red sand and his unrelenting stubbornness kept him upright.

He'd had the upper hand until the batarian had pulled a military issued blade from his belt. It was then he'd realized his crappy-ass pistol was in the bathroom, forgotten in his drug fueled haze.

Shepard clenched his eyes shut and gave a pained growl. He tried to force the memory back into the deepest reaches of his mind with nothing more than his stubborn will, but it resisted his silent pleas and exploded before his eyes as if a flash-bang grenade had hit him head on.

Suddenly it was if he was in that narrow alleyway on Omega once again.

He'd ended up with a slash to the gut and another to his thigh, pinned beneath the behemoth of a batarian and fighting desperately to keep the blood-soaked blade from his throat. He was losing that fight when Luca appeared and hauled the batarian off of him, only to take the blade square in the chest himself.

Luca gurgled as blood shot up his throat. He tried to pull air into his lungs, only to have the sharp pain in his chest flare and force what little air he had in him outward. He blinked rapidly, his shocked body struggling to register the reality of the cold steel buried in his chest.

The batarian laughed and jerked the blade out, causing a torrent of blood to squirt forth. Surprisingly the pain ebbed and gave way to a beautiful numbing cold that made his limbs feel heavy.

The youth tumbled backwards, giving one last panicked look to Ryan before hitting the cold ground.

It had all happened so fast after that.

A man possessed, Ryan lurched forward, knocking down the batarian with a blow to his chest that winded the huge alien. As the blade slid across the ground, Ryan rained down hit after hit on the shocked alien, the adrenaline blocking out the pain from the blows he'd taken.

There was a sickening crack as the batarian's orbital bones fractured and Ryan's fingers broke, but he kept going.

Until a hand grasped his shoulder and pulled him back into a strong embrace. Two men in uniforms moved forward, one tending to the batarian and the other going to Luca. He could see their lips moving; hear the muted sound of their voices buried under the deafening pounding in his head.

Seething with anger, he'd tried to fight his way free from the man who'd held him. His body hurt but he didn't care, blood was obscuring his vision but it didn't matter – Luca was dead.

The batarian should be too.

A life for a life hadn't just made sense at the time; it was a duty that ran as deep as his love for his fallen friend.

"Get the fuck off of me!" He screamed at the man holding him back.

The man holding him didn't relent, but he did finally speak.

"It's over, child, it's done."

Shepard wiped the sweat from his brow, tossing the soiled towel aside without a care as to where it landed. It was still early, but he didn't dare try to get more sleep. Dressing quickly, he made his way slowly to the elevator, stubbornly forcing the surfaced memories back down so he could don the façade that had become the norm for him since his revival.

He found himself headed for the port observation deck before he could make a conscious decision as to where to go and remembered sluggishly that he had yet to check on the newest addition to his crew.

His latest 'chat' with the Illusive Man had yielded him nothing new. The head of Cerberus had dodged all of his questions, feigned ignorance and ultimately told Shepard to 'work with' what knowledge he already had.

What 'knowledge' they had on the young biotic was next to nothing compared to what Shepard suspected Cerberus was holding back from him. They'd raised her after all; surely they couldn't be as ignorant of her power's limitations and origins as they claimed to be.

He rounded the corner and saw that the door to the port observation deck was unlocked.

She must already be awake…

He passed his hand over the door's controls and it opened with a soft hiss.

Eira faintly registered the mechanical hiss of the door to her room opening but didn't divert her focus from the datapad nestled in her lap amongst a heap of blankets she'd swaddled herself in. So far she had languished over the details in reports from Eden Prime, Virmire, Ilos and the Battle of the Citadel. The photographs of the aftermath of the battle unsettled her. While she had yet to see an image of a complete Reaper, the fragments captured were massive and nightmarish; it was difficult for her to imagine them alive and moving. It didn't seem right that something so horrific existed.

"Eira?"

She jumped in her seat, the datapad falling on the lounge beside her and tumbling to the floor with a soft clink.

Shepard moved to pick up the fallen datapad just as Eira made to do the same. The tips of his fingers ghosted over hers and she recoiled, withdrawing her hand quickly and quickly murmured an apology.

"No, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you." He dismissed her unnecessary apology and handed the datapad to back her, "Some light reading?"

She shrugged, "This is important, right? There's a lot I need to understand…a lot I've missed." She frowned as she pulled back her blankets to make room for him at the opposite end of the lounge, "Didn't seem right to put it off…"

There was a solemnness to her Shepard noted with just a quick glance of her eyes. Given everything she had been through in the past twenty-four hours he supposed it was to be expected. But there were dark circles under her eyes that hadn't been there last he'd seen her, and it looked like her mind was running a mile a minute based on the sharp way her eyes were darting from the datapad in her hands to the pile remaining to be read stacked on a small table before them.

"Could you not sleep?" He found himself asking as he sat down in the space she had cleared for him.

Eira sighed, "I tried…but I kept seeing Corrine…" she paused, her breath hitching in her throat and her chin trembling ever so slightly, "…covered in blood...dead."

Shepard was silent, not knowing what to say. The common things people said to comfort each other in times like this – "She's in a better place", "It'll all be okay", "I'm sorry for your loss" – all fell flat. They either dwindled down the horror of loss into something momentary and passing or felt forced and, most importantly, like a badly concealed bit of mockery.

No words had stemmed the pain and overwhelming guilt he'd felt after Luca's death. They certainly hadn't made the loss of his friends and comrades on Akuze any easier, nor had they helped when he'd made the call that had cost Kaidan his life.

"Commander?"

Shepard snapped back to reality and realized he was leaning forward with his elbows rested on his knees, his hands loosely folded between them. He sat back and finally noticed the pain on the back of his hand, seemingly from nervous scratching on his part.

Stop obsessing over shit you can't change, he told himself angrily. Remember why you're here; hide all the other bullshit, this isn't the time…

"Are…are you alright, Commander?" Eira asked hesitantly.

She was aware that a question like that was best asked by a friend, or at least someone who'd known him more than twenty-four hours, but it escaped her before she could stop herself.

She nervously looked up from the datapad after his voice failed to break the silence.

Shepard's gaze remained fixed forward, seemingly on the impressive vista the observation deck offered of the multitude of stars around them. His jaw was clenched and tension pulled his form tight like the string of a bow.

Eira swallowed hard, unsure of what to do or say and afraid a misstep would offend him.

From what she had read about him in the numerous articles she had scanned before moving on to the datapads, he had spent the better part of his life in the military. The incident on Akuze had killed fifty of his brothers and sisters in arms and she wasn't so naïve to think that that had been neither the first nor the last violent experience of loss he'd suffered.

And there she was, whimpering over the loss of a single woman.

"Does it ever get easier?" She asked quietly.

Shepard visibly relaxed some; her voice providing the merciful interruption his mind needed to focus on the present.

He took a deep breath and shook his head. "Time…just dulls the pain. It always hurts though, to some degree."

He didn't elaborate. She didn't need to know the messy details; that he was trying to make sense of losses he'd suffered, the old wounds his resurrection had reopened.

"If you agree to help us in this fight though, I'll do whatever I can to find out why she was targeted," he offered, looking at her with an expression far softer than what he'd had since entering the room, "Maybe we can get you some answers about yourself too, where you came from…God, knows the Illusive Man isn't going to be giving us any." He smiled.

Eira looked to the datapads she had yet to read. There was still so much she didn't know, but the information contained in the reports she'd already read was enough to convince her that the threat the Collectors posed was real, just as real as the machines they served – the Reapers.

For the first time since leaving Nafna Station, she spoke with conviction, her decision made without reservation, "You don't need to do that, Commander."

His eyebrow arched as he regarded her with confusion.

Since when had anyone agreed to help him without asking for something in return?

Eira continued, "I haven't finished reading everything, so I'm sure there are things about these 'Reapers' I don't know yet." She began fiddling with the hem of the blanket, twirling the tassel between her fingers, "But what I do know…honestly…it scares me. I've never seen or heard of anything like them – and they want to destroy the galaxy?" She shook her head and then looked at him, her eyes meeting his, "I'm still not sure what help I can be…but I do want to help."

"But –

"You don't need to do or promise me anything to make me agree to help, Commander," Eira insisted, "It's the right thing to do. And I've already made up my mind." She bit the inside of her lip and looked away sheepishly, "Sorry…for interrupting."

Something akin to laughter bubbled in Shepard's throat but disappeared quickly once he realized what it was.

"Please, don't apologise," he said with a small smile, "Do you have any questions, Eira? About what you've read?" He nodded to the datapad in her lap.

"I…actually yes" she said, hesitating just momentarily before continuing, "Do you know why? Why they're abducting human colonies? There are other species with colonies in Terminus space, yes?"

"I…" He wavered, unsure if sharing his suspicions was unwise. He'd yet to voice them to anyone and truthfully, no one had outright asked him.

Amongst the crew there was the unspoken understanding that whatever their purpose, the Collectors' motives were not for the betterment of humanity. As to why they were targeting humans over all other species in the Terminus System…one guess was as good as the other.

He looked back to her, his focus having drifted off as his thoughts wandered, and saw that she had been watching him. Her eyes were wide and worried and she had begun to nervously chew on the inside of her cheek, something he was beginning to think she wasn't even consciously aware she did. As close as he was to her he could see that her hair wasn't stark white like he initially thought. There was a faint blonde-gold hue in her long locks that seemingly took a careful eye to notice. He was suddenly struck by how innocent she looked. After being raised on a secluded space station, with no family or friends to surround herself with, he supposed she was.

This is a hell of a way to learn about the world outside…

"Honestly, we're not sure why they're targeting us. Human colonies in Terminus space are more vulnerable; they're secluded and a lot of colonists don't trust the Alliance enough to accept any aid offered."

"The Alliance? That's Earth's military, right? You were with them before joining Cerberus?"

He nodded, "I was…until I died two years ago."

Eira's confusion was blatant. She'd read one article in particular that said he had died, but she assumed it had been a rumor. How could it have been the truth when he was standing right before her?

"We were attacked by a Collector ship, though at the time we didn't know who they were. I died after a blast from their main gun tore the ship in half." He fidgeted, shifting slightly in his seat, "I was spaced. By hardsuit was damaged and I…suffocated. From what I've been told, Cerberus found my body and spent two years bringing me back." He went rigid, "I really don't remember much about it."

There was a brief moment of silence. It wasn't horribly uncomfortable and Shepard didn't move to break it but instead allowed Eira the time she needed to let what he'd said sink in.

Eira shifted in her seat and leaned toward him, reaching out to curiously touch his arm, poking one of the tattooed images of a vicious and twisted demon on his forearm. Her fingers were cold and a sudden shiver rippled through him as they passed over one of the many cybernetic scars that marred his body. He looked up from where she was touching him, only to see that the neckline of her oversized t-shirt had fallen down, giving him a generous glimpse of the tops of her full breasts. His mind screamed at him to stop, to look away, but instead his eyes rose to the enticing curve of her neck.

He felt his breath catch in his throat.

Stop! What the fuck are you doing, Shepard! She's practically a damn kid! He snapped his gaze away from her. Son-of-a-bitch…what the fuck is wrong with you?

Mercifully, when he looked up he saw that her attention was still fixed on his arm.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she pulled back, "I guess I wanted to see if you were real." Mortification washed over her, "My God, I'm so sorry, that was so rude!"

Something about the look on her face made him smile and he brushed off the feeling of self-loathing that had threatened to breach the surface of his conscious mind.

"It's fine, Eira, really." He felt his omni-tool buzz on his arm and he looked down to see that he'd received a message from Miranda.

They'd decided to pursue 'Archangel' next and had made it back to the Sahrabarik system at apparent record speed.

"Time to go?" Eira asked as he opened up his omni-tool and scanned a message that popped up.

He nodded, "We've got to find this 'Archangel' on Omega. He's supposed to be damn good with a sniper rifle. We'll need him."

Shepard stood.

"Get some rest." He hesitated and swallowed the lump in his throat, looking away from her to the door, "I…I know you don't want to face seeing what happened on that station again but you need to sleep. You're no good to anyone half-dead with exhaustion."

Eira nodded, "I'll try. Can…can I ask you one more question, Commander?"

He stopped and looked back at her over his shoulder.

She was kneeling on the lounge, her arms draped over the back of the couch as she looked at him.

"Sure."

She pointed at him, "What are those pictures on your arm?"

He raised his left arm, looking over the expanse of imagery that covered his skin. It was a strange question but he supposed she'd never seen tattoos before on Nafna.

"Tattoos," he explained, "They're made by artists using needles to put ink under the skin to form images."

Eira nodded slowly and tilted her head as if to consider them at a different angle. "Did it hurt? Getting them done?"

Shepard merely nodded.

She smiled, "I like them."

That took him aback.

He stood there, likely with a stupid look on his face, trying to determine if she was being serious.

She thanked him and he left without saying another work, making for the armoury so he could suit up and meet his ground team at the airlock. Even as he stood before his opened locker, his gear neatly stacked before him, he wasn't sure what to make of what had just happened.