A/N: Holy crap, folks. It's been about four months since an update to AoF. I hope some of you are still around to witness this monstrosity.

I would like to apologise, not just for the delay but also for what I've done in this chapter. Please don't read it if you're having a bad day. Or if you're having a good day and don't want it ruined.

Chapter Forty-Four

Sunset and Evening Star*

Chasca, Matano System

A sharp noise startled Sarah Williams awake. She sat up, biting her lip to trap the sound in her throat. It wouldn't do to scream here, not when there were things out there hunting them. Sarah remained completely still - just breathing and reorienting herself. Before she adjusted to wakefulness, her first action was to reassure herself with the feel of cold metal. She'd fallen asleep cradling an assault rifle as though it was a safety blanket. The analogy was apt. For someone who had little previous experience with a rifle, even during the war, the weapon now barely left her grasp.

Gradually Sarah picked out the huddled forms of others around her. Comrades? Acquaintances? Fellow survivors? Regardless of the fact that she couldn't find the right word, Sarah was grateful for their presence. There were so few of them left after the chaos of the initial attack. The only reason any of them were left at all was because they needed to be taken alive. Sarah had watched from the shadows as others were dragged away – most of them mercifully unconscious, but some screaming and fighting every step of the way. The only thing she knew for certain was that she wasn't going to let that happen to her. She'd die first. Unfortunately it was a decision that she would have to have to make sooner rather than later.

The net was tightening around them. Hopelessness shrouding everything. There were few places left to hide and absolutely nowhere left to run. Chasca's perpetual twilight ensured that was impossible. Sarah closed her eyes, trying to shut her circumstances out for a few more minutes. It was self-indulgent and cowardly, but she couldn't bring herself to do anything else. She tried to linger in memories of happier times. Her childhood, cocooned in the protective embrace of three older sisters. Falling in love with her childhood sweetheart, then marrying him. However in the silence of her mind, the thoughts created only more fear and doubt. Sarah knew she would never be the marine that Tom was, and she most certainly would never match her eldest sister. Sarah opened her eyes, no longer content to linger in denial.

Ash would know what to do, Sarah thought, absently stroking her rifle. Ash would have found a way out of the whole damn mess - even if that way out was simply causing as much hurt and destruction as possible before her death. Hot tears burned at Sarah's eyes. Death was not something she wanted to seek. More than anything, Sarah wanted to live. Her thoughts flitted to Leon. It was barely even a relationship, consisting of just that one heated kiss several months earlier and a string of emails and vid calls. Yet there was the promise of so much more. Especially now, when they were supposed to be enjoying their hard-fought peace.

Peace? Tell that to those faceless bastards hunting us, Sarah thought, feeling a strong sense of the unfairness of it all. Hadn't they suffered enough?

"Williams?"

Sarah had been lost in thought. Her gaze focused on the pale, drawn face of the man sitting opposite her, before shifting to the offering that was being held out towards her. A scrap of dried meat, barely even a mouthful. Still, Sarah accepted it with a nod of appreciation. It wouldn't touch the sides of her gnawing hunger, but it was something to wash away the taste of ash and bile in her mouth.

"Thanks, Burd," Sarah replied in the midst of chewing. As she studied the older man's face, she was forced to acknowledge that he was still very much a stranger. Before the attack, their paths had never crossed in daily life. She'd since learned that he was a veteran, but nothing more. He'd saved her life at least twice already.

"Got any more of that?"

Sarah didn't need to look in the direction of the voice. She already knew it was Clyne – an opinionated woman who had done nothing to help the group and everything to dampen their spirits. Burd ripped off a piece of his own portion, tossing it to Clyne without a word.

"So when do we get the hell out of here?" Clyne pressed, asking much the same question that she had asked a few hours earlier.

"We've discussed this," Burd replied in a harsh whisper. "Our best chance for survival is to lay low, wait it out. The Alliance won't let this stand. They'll come for their own."

Clyne snorted disdainfully. "You think they give a fuck about some backwater colony? Newsflash, you stupid grunt, those self-righteous assholes aren't coming to rescue us. I'm sure as hell not going to sit around patiently waiting for those damn slavers to find us." Clyne turned her attention away from Burd and focused her burning gaze on Sarah. "What about you, princess? Don't tell me you're in a hurry to end up as some alien's fuck toy?"

Sarah stiffened at Clyne's words. Lynn had often teased her that she was a prude. She would have been offended if it wasn't the truth. "No." She was going to leave it at that, but Clyne had succeeded in drawing her ire. "But I'm not in any hurry to die either. I'm with Burd. The Alliance will come." My sister will come.

Further conversation was made redundant following the sound of an explosion beyond the walls of their shelter. Sarah's first response was to tuck her rifle against her shoulder. As the sound faded, her awareness centred on her heart – it was thudding wildly.

One of the other survivors risked looking out of one of the grime-covered windows. A second explosion tore through the air. Closer. The windows shook. The survivor dropped to the floor, eyes wide. "Shit, I think they've given up trying to take us alive. They're blowing everything to hell."

"I told you!" Clyne hissed, darting to her feet. "We should've ended this when we had the chance. Now thanks to you sacks of shit, we're going to die without even a fucking whimper."

"With the firepower they're dropping, there will be smoke," Burd said in a calm voice. "Use it as cover, get the hell out, head for the outskirts. The abandoned prefabs near the Archer farm. We'll rendezvous there."

Sarah watched as the first of them made their exit. She held her breath, but there was no resulting cascade of weapons fire to mow them down. Surely the Alliance was closing in on Chasca and their hell was measured in hours as opposed to days? Ash, where the hell are you? Sarah thought as she waited for the others to move out. Everyone was in a hurry to leave. Even as she pitied them, she could hardly feel any sense of blame. They wanted to live, as did she.

Finally it was just Burd and Clyne remaining. Sarah suspected the other woman wanted to charge in the opposite direction, as opposed to fleeing out the back. Burd was clearly waiting for her. At the moment that he extended his hand, beckoning her forward, the walls around them suddenly burst inwards accompanied by flame and a deafening noise. As if everything unfolded in slow motion, Sarah watched as a chunk of metal slammed into Burd's chest. The image was burned into Sarah's eyes, even as she was engulfed by debris. She hugged the floor, shielding her head until the worst of it had passed. She coughed in an effort to clear the dirt that clogged her throat.

When she finally remembered that she needed to move, Sarah found her lower body unresponsive. There was nothing, not even a pain response, just a sense of an all-encompassing grasp that was not about to release her.

Twilight streamed through the exposed skeleton of the building. Sudden movement opposite drew a whimper from Sarah's throat, quickly morphing into relief when she saw it wasn't a slaver, but rather Clyne.

"Something's got me pinned." There was no element of pleading in Sarah's voice, simply a statement of fact.

Clyne was bleeding profusely from a head wound, but otherwise unharmed. The woman's eyes however were wild, darting back and forth between Sarah and some unknown point in the distance. Realisation hit Sarah at the moment that Clyne shook her head. Two sharp shakes, and then the woman was gone. Sarah didn't bother calling out. On one hand she knew it would be futile, on the other she felt a sense of disgust at having to rely on someone who was that much of a coward.

As she tried to free herself, Sarah felt nothing other than a sense of inevitability. Even if she somehow did manage to drag her legs free, the fact that she couldn't feel anything was hardly positive. Sarah told herself she wasn't giving up, but the sinking feeling in her gut said otherwise. She pressed her cheek against the floor, listening to the rattle of breath in her throat and the sounds in the distance. Scattered gunfire, shouts and screams. It was the only possible outcome.

When she first heard the bootfalls, Sarah was sure it was her imagination conjuring the dreaded sound. With each passing moment, they intensified until they could be nothing else. She refused to play dead. Instead she kept both eyes open in a challenging stare. Whatever was coming, she wanted to be able to look it in the eye.

"Looks clear – "

Accompanying the voice was a dark silhouette. The figure scurried a few steps forward, the weak light suddenly illuminating the blue and white armour – Alliance logo on the breast. Sarah dared to let out the breath she had been holding.

"No wait, we got a live one!"

The marine hunkered down at Sarah's side. His youthful face broke into a reassuring smile, broadening when he saw her uniform. "We've got your back, ma'am."

"That obvious I need help, huh?"

Sarah's smile was more of a grimace. She was starting to feel her legs, which in itself was a good thing but it hurt like hell. Almost overriding the pain was a palpable sense of relief. The Alliance hadn't abandoned them.

"Survivors, Cameron?"

A second marine joined the first. Sarah glanced up. The newcomer wasn't wearing a helmet, revealing bronzed skin and jet black hair. There was something familiar in the face, but Sarah dismissed the thoughts as a product of pain and exhaustion.

"Just one, Captain Alves. She's the first we've found. It looks as though we're too late for the rest."

"Fuck!" the Captain swore passionately. "Fuck those bastards."

The marine paused, pinching the bridge of her nose as though she was struggling with emotion. Sarah felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

"There were other survivors. They ran towards the south," Sarah offered. The thought that someone like Clyne might live while Burd was dead suddenly made her angry. She fought back against the uncharacteristic response, focusing instead on Captain Alves. "I knew the Alliance would come. No one can fault you for doing your best."

The resulting smile on the captain's face was warm, but tinged with something else that Sarah couldn't quite recognise. The gaze also changed slightly. It was barely noticeable other than in the slight furrowing of a brow.

"Private Cameron?"

"Ma'am?"

"Push forward with the rest of Bravo squad, look for more survivors," Alves ordered as she moved closer to Sarah "I'll call up a corpsman and see if we can get this soldier free."

With a last smile in Sarah's direction, the private responded to the order, leaving Sarah alone with Captain Alves. The pain was still very much present, but it had faded to a manageable level – or at least to the point where she didn't want to scream. Crush injuries. Sarah contemplated the situation as though it was just another patient, rather than a self-diagnosis. Definitely shattered bone. The stabbing pains were evidence enough of that. Possibly arterial damage. Lifting this stuff off is going to hurt like hell. If I don't bleed out.

"Just hang in there a little longer," Alves said as she knelt at Sarah's side and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. The smile on the captain's face had morphed into something odd. "I'm not going to leave you here by yourself. What's your name, soldier?"

"Williams, Sarah Williams. I was…I'm a Med Tech with the garrison."

"Williams huh?" Alves cocked an eyebrow. "Must be frustrating to have the same surname as the Alliance's most famous marine?"

"Oh, she's been frustrating me my entire life, ma'am. Ashley is my older sister," Sarah admitted readily.

"That so? I thought you looked familiar."

"You know her?"

Alves nodded. "I had the pleasure once, circumstances conspired to keep us from knowing each other well however. You sister is…a force to be reckoned with. Not to mention so very important to the Alliance Navy – as a soldier and as a figurehead. I've never met a grunt that doesn't admire her, or want to be her." A sigh escaped Alves' lips "It's a pity she's so fucking pig-headed. For her…and more importantly, for you."

"Ma'am?"

Sarah suddenly felt a fresh pain rip through her left leg. She opened her mouth to scream but found her mouth encased in a vice-like grip. She desperately tried to prise the clamped fingers away from her mouth, but Alves was too strong…and she felt as though her strength was draining with each passing second.

Sarah's eyes went wide as realisation dawned. The Alliance had not come to save her after all.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Alves whispered as she drove the knife further into Sarah's artery before withdrawing it with a cruel jerk. The marine was no longer smiling, and her gaze was cold. "I know it's no consolation to you, but this needs to happen to restore order. Humanity thanks you for your sacrifice."


Ashley Williams wanted nothing more than to press her cheek against the cool metal of the Kodiak's bulkhead. For some reason her skin felt as though it was burning. Despite the regulators built into her suit, her undersuit clung to her skin, soaked with sweat. If she didn't know better, Ash would have thought that she was coming down with an illness.

Unfortunately the truth was something far more mundane. Ash was scared.

However, now more than ever, she needed to keep her emotions in check. To those marines around her, Ash projected nothing other than an aura of calm. For all the personal stakes implicit in the mission, she needed to remain professional. Now more than ever. As difficult as it was, recent events had forced her to consider the burdens of leadership in a new light.

Wars weren't won without sacrifice. To be the kind of leader that was needed, Ash needed to be able to make those calls. The ones that sent soldiers to their deaths. Did it make any difference when those soldiers were family? Loved ones? Ash kept going over in her mind the fact that Shepard had been willing to sacrifice Liara for the greater good. It had been the only decision the Commander could have made. The fate of the Galaxy over the life of one individual.

Ash drew in a discreet breath before setting her mouth into a tight, determined line. She had no idea how the hell a stupid grunt had ended up in such a position of leadership, but she owed it to Shepard not to screw it up.

{Err…ma'am,} Joker's voice interrupted her resolute sense of purpose. {I know you're less than a minute out from the drop, but you might want to abort. We've finally made contact with the vessels orbiting Chasca…and you're not going to believe this, but they're friendlies.}

The calm that Ash had finally found was stripped away almost instantly. "What the…you're right, I don't believe it."

{Believe it. We're close enough for visual ID. They're all SA frigates from the First Fleet, under the command of a Captain…Alves. I've got an open comm line confirming that the ground is secure. Do you want me to patch you through?}

"No!" Ash snapped – trying to suppress the fears that starting bubbling back to the surface – Hang in there, Sarah. "Just get the Normandy on the damn ground."

The forty-five minutes that passed between the initial reveal and the Normandy returning to Chasca's surface passed by with almost indeterminable sluggishness. Ash's adrenaline reserves remained untapped, but they did not dissipate despite the absence of combat. Her entire body hummed with nervous energy as she disembarked.

At the sight of her fellow Captain in the distance, it took an immense effort on her part to appear at least partially composed.

Ash had only had the privilege of meeting Alves once. The awkwardness of that meeting had been more than enough to dissuade her from actively seeking out the woman ever again. The memory returned – vividly – at the moment that Alves delivered a full-lipped smile in Ash's direction. While the smile didn't have the same effect that it once did, Ash was all too painfully aware of her own dishevelled appearance. Not even her regulation bun could conceal the fact that her hair was still purple.

"Captain Williams, you have no idea how delighted I am to see the Normandy," Alves said as she extended her hand.

"It looks as though you've done just fine without us," Ash remarked, taking Alves' hand in a deep, firm grip.

"Nevertheless-" Alves did not retreat from the handshake as she stared at Ash, smile fixed firmly in place "-the Normandy has been missed. Although I must say that you look as though you've been putting yourself and the crew through their paces."

"Well, we haven't been sitting around scratching our asses," Ash replied, extricating her hand from the handshake and folding both hands behind her back to keep from punching Alves across her smug mouth. "The rest of the Galaxy isn't going to take care of itself, but that's unimportant. What's the sitrep?"

Alves arched an eyebrow, but she obliged. "There were two unmarked vessels in orbit when my squadron arrived. We managed to destroy one while the other fled."

"You elected not to pursue?"

"My priority was with the colonists…and the Granicus suffered significant damage. She's currently dead in the water." Alves kept her tone polite. "Unfortunately we were too late to save most of the colonists-"

Inwardly Ash felt as though someone had kicked her in the stomach, outwardly she maintained a composed façade.

"-They were taken by slavers. It is a regrettable turn of events, but you know as well as I, that we don't have the resources to pursue them. Even if they have our people," Alves continued, her voice heavy with something that sounded like regret. "I am sorry, Captain Williams, I…know that your sister was posted here."

Ash responded with a taut nod – it was all the reaction that Alves was going to get out of her. She didn't trust the other Captain, not as far as she could throw the bitch. With feigned nonchalance, Ash swept her gaze over Chasca's ruined landscape and resisted the urge to tap out an impatient staccato with her boot.

"What's our next move?" Although framing it as a question, Ash wasn't waiting for Alves' permission. She was eager to be out from beneath the other woman's slightly predatory gaze. "Search and rescue?"

Alves nodded. "As futile as it might feel, but even if we save one life it will feel like a small victory."

Spare the sentiment, Ash thought, irritated that of all the captains in the Alliance it had to be Alves that had shown up on Chasca. For a moment Ash wondered whether this was a coincidence, but the inkling disappeared quickly in the face of her fears for Sarah. Petty suspicions could wait. She watched Alves walk away for a moment, before turning her attention back to the settlement. Ash had no idea where to start, nor did she know what she expected to find. She knew exactly what she hoped for - to find Sarah alive, holed up somewhere and relieved as hell to see her big sister.

In all likelihood Sarah had been taken and Ash would be faced with the very real prospect of having to walk away from her promise to Shepard. There was no way in hell that she was leaving Sarah to the mercy of slavers, not even if she had to search every cesspit in the Galaxy.

"I don't know why, but I really don't like that woman."

Ash looked over her shoulder as Traynor joined her. "Miranda warned me about her once," she spoke softly, lingering over the syllables of her lover's name like a caress. "Funny thing was, she actually sounded scared of her."

Traynor was silent for a few moments. Ash knew she ought to be moving, but a part of her didn't want to know what had happened to Sarah. Eventually she heard rather than felt Traynor place a gloved hand on her shoulder.

"Are you…alright?"

An honest reply was on the tip of Ash's tongue, but that particular urge disappeared quickly. "I'm fine, Chief. Actually kind of relieved that someone else did the shooting for once." As she said it, Ash couldn't bring herself to look at Traynor. She could already see the disbelief on the younger woman's face. "Let's move out."


It was infuriating to be so close to the surface of a planet for the first time in her life and not be able to touch or even smell it. Myke tried to keep a scowl from forming on her face. The Normandy's doctor had been nothing but kind to her and she had no desire to come across as ungrateful. However there was an entire planet out there. With fresh air, dirt, and actual trees. Okay, the trees looked kind of small and stubby compared to the ones in Myke's imagination, but they were still there.

Instead she had to stand with her face pressed firmly against a porthole, imagining how the air might smell outside.

Burnt probably, she thought sadly. The excitement she felt was well and truly tempered by the blackened remnants of buildings that she could see. Thick columns of smoke continued to streamed skywards. All Myke could do was stand and watch the Alliance soldiers as they sifted through the rubble in their search for survivors.

Minutes went by before Myke realised that her hands were clenched into tight fists, to the point where her fingernails were digging into her palm. She desperately wanted to be out there, doing something useful. Behind her, she could hear Dr Chakwas moving equipment. She didn't bother turning around, there were no patients to help yet.

"Mycea? Are you coming with me, or are you content to stand there and watch?"

Myke whirled around to find Chakwas looking at her with an expectant expression and field medkits in both hands.

"You're asking me if I want to go outside?" Myke couldn't help but gape.

Chakwas looked slightly impatient. "Not if you're going to turn into a wool-headed fool I'm not, but yes."

Myke had no idea what 'wool-headed' meant, but when combined with 'fool' she didn't expect that it was anything good. In fact, she was still trying to get her head around the strange manner in which the doctor spoke in general. She fixed what she hoped was an intelligent expression on her face and nodded. Perhaps Dr Chakwas would see past the gleam of excitement in her eyes and the way in which she bounced on the balls of her feet.

The outside world defied description. Myke wondered whether it had something to do with her limited vocabulary, or if it was simply too much for her senses to process at once. Dirt crunched beneath her feet as she stepped down from the landing ramp. She paused for a moment, taking in Chasca's strange natural light. A slight breeze hit her face, carrying with it any number of unidentifiable scents. However overriding everything else was the one that Myke knew all too well – the scent of war.

"Will you be alright?" Chakwas asked gently.

Taken back slightly by the doctor's consideration, Myke simply nodded. She then realised that Chakwas must have interpreted her stunned expression as a result of seeing Chasca burning. In reality, although she felt for the colonists, what she was seeing did not compare to the horrors that she had witnessed during Cerberus' occupation of Omega. And there had been no breeze on Omega to carry away the stench.

"I'm fine," Myke replied in a resolute voice. She gripped the medkit in her hand. "Where do we start?"

{Dr Chakwas! It's an emergency. Please respond!}

Anything Chakwas might have been about to say was interrupted by a panicked, choked voice over the open comms channel. Myke recognised Sam's voice instantly. Her breath caught at the sheer terror she recognised in the voice. It was so unlike the Sam that she knew.

"I'm here. Go ahead, Chief," Chakwas replied calmly.

{I need you to rendezvous at my…our coordinates. I think…Fuck!} Sam replied in a panic, completely forgetting protocol. {I don't know what to do. She's dead…and Ash – I mean Captain Williams…she's…I don't know what to do!}

"Calm down, Traynor. We're close."

Myke itched to be running already. The only problem was, she had no idea where to go. "Please tell me we're starting there?"

Chakwas nodded resolutely. "We're starting there."


With trembling fingers, Sam dragged her helmet from her head. Her knees followed it to the ground, hitting hard before she collapsed onto her haunches. The deep breaths that she desperately needed remained trapped in her throat. Spots clouded her vision before she managed to gulp in any air at all. It came in shuddering gasps, alternating with choked sobs. The reminder to pull herself together was on a loop in her head, but she couldn't summon the courage to re-enter the ruined building. There were no words that she could offer. Nothing that she could physically do other than stand and watch helplessly.

Sarah William's chalk white face was etched behind Sam's eyes. Crazily beautiful, even in death. Ash's anguished scream played on repeat in her head. The face and the scream. As Sam hunched over in the dirt, she could escape neither. Her own response had seemed pathetically inadequate.

"Ash…I-I…I'm so sorry." Sam had regretted the words even before they left her lips. Yet they had emerged regardless.

Normandy's Captain hadn't responded. Not until Sam had dared to step forward and place a hand on her friend's shoulder. Ash's entire body had been shaking uncontrollably. Sam's heart had already shattered into a million pieces. She had no idea how she was going to pick the pieces up.

"Get the fuck out!" Ash had yelled in a terrible voice that was utterly broken and filled with rage. "Fuck off!"

It took several minutes for Sam to get herself under control, enough at least to be ashamed of the panicked call she'd put through to Chakwas. She picked herself up out of the dirt and looked towards the ruined building. There were no sounds emanating from within. Nothing other than an eerie silence. While Sam didn't want to disturb Ashley's grief, she couldn't help but be desperately worried. Instead Sam scanned her surrounds, hoping that Chakwas wasn't far away.

What the hell is she going to do? Sam thought hopelessly. Sarah's dead. Chakwas isn't a fucking miracle worker.

{Chief? Are you there?} It was Grenier, Normandy's XO.

"Here, sir," Sam replied in a hollow voice. "Go ahead."

{Have you seen the Captain?} Grenier sounded urgent. {I've been hailing her for five minutes without response.}

Sam chewed her lip. "I'm with the Captain. We've got a situation-"

{There's a situation up here, Chief!} Grenier interrupted in a curt voice. {We've got incoming. The frigates in orbit have engaged with a hostile force. If the Normandy stays down here, we're a sitting duck. If you've got Captain Williams within earshot, tell her we need to respond. Understood?}

"Five by, sir," Sam replied. An overwhelming sense of dread settled in her gut at the thought of approaching Ashley. "We'll get back to-"

A harsh order cut Sam off.

"XO, get that fucking ship in the air!"

She spun around to see Ashley emerge from the building. At first Sam was stunned to find Ashley perfectly composed, especially after her earlier outburst. The Captain's face was schooled into a mask of purpose, rifle already in her hands. However Sam knew her friend well enough to see past the façade. Despite the absence of tear tracks on her cheeks, there were dark red rims around Ashley's eyes - and the eyes themselves were as hard as glass. Sam realised that Ashley was operating only on a basic level, fuelled by an indescribable rage. It was no state of mind to be heading into combat.

"Ma'am…" Sam hesitated. She had no desire to be on the receiving end of another outburst, yet she cared about Ashley as more than just a CO. "Ashley, you need to get back to the Normandy. Captain Alves can oversee the defence of the ground."

Sam was spared Ashley's answer by the sudden and violent impact of barrage of rockets. She was forced to throw herself to the ground as their position was enveloped in a haze of dust and heat. As she covered her head with her hands, she cursed herself for being an idiot and dropping her helmet. Somehow she gathered her thoughts into something resembling coherence. Her first action was to reach out for her helmet, finding it only a few feet away. She jammed in on her head, ignoring the layer of dust covering the visor. As she reached for the SMG at her side, she heard the unmistakable sound of a shuttle passing overheard, quickly joined by several more. None of which carried Alliance markings.

Coughing and spluttering, and certainly not feeling remotely like a marine, Sam searched her surrounds. Sam expected to see Ashley in the dirt nearby, but she found herself alone. It was only when she heard the rapid retort of a Valkyrie assault rifle that she realised Ashley was already moving, responding to the threat. Sam squinted ahead. Ashley moved purposefully through the heart of the continuing barrage – without a helmet, without an apparent care as she walked down the middle of the street.

Sam wanted nothing more than to crawl under the most solid cover she could find and not move, but somehow she managed to drag herself to her feet. This is a really bad idea, Sam thought as she propelled herself forward. She clenched her teeth, fully expecting at any moment to be ripped to shreds by a direct hit. She consoled herself with the fact that, if that came to pass, she would feel very little.

Her heart was in her mouth as she followed Ashley, cursing the other woman under her breath for dragging her well out of her comfort zone. Figures moved all around them in the haze. It took Sam an irrationally long time to realise that they were shooting at her – or rather at Ashley. The Captain made for an impressive target, although it was apparent that very little could touch her. Even as Sam moved forward, she was struck by the manner in which Ashley moved. Constantly firing - not even pausing to ram a fresh thermal clip into her Valkyrie or at the shots that struck her shields.

Only seconds had passed since she'd picked herself up off the ground, but it felt as though she'd been running for hours. This is not me, Sam thought to herself, still struggling to accept the reality of what she was doing, charging into the midst of a combat zone as though she was some gung-ho marine as opposed to the techie she actually was. Her fear afforded her some measure of clarity. Every shape that moved drew her gaze. The Locust burst into life in her hand, almost of its own accord, sending incendiary rounds in the direction of one fast moving figure. Even as Sam saw a weapon being trained on her, she cast overload. She had no time to admire her handiwork before she focused on the next threats.

Even with her limited combat experience, Sam knew that they needed to move into cover. Ashley's current path was nothing short of suicidal. Sam refused to believe that was what the Captain wanted. Losing Sarah was tragic, but there was still Abby and Lynn to consider. Not to mention Miranda Lawson. Ashley wasn't thinking clearly – if at all.

"We need to move!" Sam yelled, knowing most of her voice would be drowned out. "We stay here we're dead!"

Ash didn't even spare her a glance, moving forward without pause.

As Sam scrambled to catch up with Ash, she yelped as a figure suddenly launched forward from a building to her left, omni-blade extended. She managed to turn her body just in time, the blade glancing off her shields. When she tried to bring her Locust up to fire, Sam wasn't fast enough to get in a shot before the next strike. It was a direct thrust, piercing her shields instantly and carrying forward into her armour. Panicking, Sam wrenched her entire body to one side, jerking her assailant off balance even as she felt a sharp sting in her left flank. She responded with the first thing that popped into her mind – incinerate. At close range the power arced straight from her omni-tool and into his body. The smell of burnt flesh was accompanied by a gut-wrenching scream as he stumbled backwards. Sam followed up with overload, instantly causing the burning plasma to detonate. One blink later she found the front of her armour covered in what remained of her attacker – little chunks of still smoking flesh.

Sam stood in mute shock even as a second figure rushed forward. She stumbled, her boot catching on an unseen piece of debris, Locust falling from her hand. As she tumbled backwards an omni-blade burst through the face of the man above her. Sam hit hard, blinking to find Ash standing above her. The Captain's face was a bloodied, expressionless mess.

"Ash?"

Ash turned around. For a moment Sam thought that Ash was going to leave her sitting in the dirt. However Ash retrieved Sam's fallen Locust and handed it to her.

"You're going to need this, Chief."

Ash then grabbed her beneath the arm and hauled her to her feet. Sam's head swam uncomfortably, but somehow she managed to remain upright.

"Are you good to go?"

Sam managed something that resembled a nod in response to Ashley's question.

"Well stay close then."

"Aye, aye, ma'am- "

Sam heard something whistling through the air, followed by a dull thud. Her answer was cut short as her world dissolved in an unholy conflagration. Heat like nothing she'd ever felt. It felt as though some giant hand had suddenly picked her up and was tossing her through the air like a ragdoll.

The last thing that Sam remembered was Ashley throwing herself in front of her.

Then there was pain, and everything faded to black.


Over the past two hours Myke had come to the unequivocal realisation that she never wanted to be in a combat zone ever again. Even if she lived another 800 years. It wasn't simply a case of being scared, but rather everything about the whole sad mess. The noise, the blood, and the death. Especially the death.

Myke stared down at her hands. They were covered in the blood of some nameless human she'd tried to save. Her supplies of medigel had long since been exhausted and she'd lost Dr Chakwas somewhere in the chaos. She'd dragged the marine out of the field of fire and into a hole, but her hands on his wound had done little other than prolong the inevitable. He'd died, choking and crying for his mother. She was still sitting next to his body in the hole, unable to do anything other than meet his lifeless gaze. He stared back, accusing her of cowardice. Myke shook her head. She darted forward and closed his eyes with a gentle swipe of her fingers before flopping back against the side of her hole. Her fingers were trembling so she jammed them beneath her arms, hugging herself tightly.

With the fighting dying down, Myke's thoughts turned back to Sam. Somehow she'd managed to push her fears for her lover to the back of her mind during the worst of it. She had to, otherwise she would not have been able to function. Now those fears returned. It was the final impetus she needed to pick herself out of the hole.

Myke scanned the horizon. Sam was out there somewhere and she was determined to find her. Warnings were already going off in the sensible part of her brain, advising her to find Dr Chakwas instead, or stay put until the Normandy returned. Myke wasn't Alliance. No one had questioned her presence whilst she was working alongside the doctor. Running around on her own, a lone asari wearing a cast-off N7 hoodie, was another matter altogether.

Thinking sensibly had never been Myke's strong suit.

Myke found the battlefield oddly deserted as she moved, trying to keep to cover whilst at the same time trying not to look as though she was a threat. The Alliance had suffered heavy casualties, that much she knew, but it looked as though the attacking force had been wiped out to a man. She passed the blackened bodies of humans, batarians, turians. It was entirely senseless.

With a heavy heart, Myke had to ask herself whether it would have been better to remain on Omega. She had wanted to be a part of Sam's world but now, regardless of the way she felt about the human, Myke knew she didn't belong here. Her world was small and intimate. Most of all, it made sense.

Always with the stupid, rash decisions, Kasos, Myke thought bitterly.

She was still berating herself when she was startled by a sudden flash. It whipped past her ear and slammed into the side of a prefab with a dull thunk. When her brain connected with the fact that someone had fired at her, Myke threw herself to the ground.

"Hey, don't shoot. I'm with the Normandy!"

"Bullshit. You look like a fucking squid to me," came the terse reply.

Myke waited for the follow up attack - swift footsteps rushing in on her position, then the oblivion of death. Half a minute passed and nothing happened.

"Have you decided against shooting me?" Myke dared to ask.

"Nope, just waiting for you to show your head."

Myke frowned. It was then that she recognised the edge to the man's voice for what it was – pain. He wasn't coming after her because he couldn't move for some reason. As she often did when she was about to do something stupid, Myke drew in a deep breath.

She cautiously lifted her arms above her head. "You sound like you need help. How about you don't shoot me, and I see what I can do to help you?"

"What's to stop you from putting one between my eyes, squid?"

"Because I don't have a damn gun!" Myke replied through gritted teeth. "And if you don't stop calling me that, I'll crawl away and forget I ever laid eyes on you."

There was another lengthy pause. All of Myke's instincts were telling her to make good on her threat. The guy didn't deserve her help in the first place. Every minute she wasted, was another minute she could have spent looking for Sam.

"Fine," he replied eventually. "What have I got to lose?"

Still telling herself it was all a bad idea, Myke moved into a crouch and scanned her surrounds. At any moment she expected to be shot for her trouble. She picked out her potential patient. The marine was leaning against some fallen debris. His rifle was propped up awkwardly on a rock, trained in Myke's direction.

"I don't work well at gunpoint," Myke said in a careful voice.

The marine's face was a ghastly white. Although Myke couldn't see any obvious injuries, the dirt beneath his body was stained red with blood. He regarded her through glazed eyes for a moment, before he let go of the rifle, pushing it to one side.

Myke scrambled forward. He was older than most humans she had met - his skin was heavily lined and his was hair a steely grey colour. She went to work without a word, ascertaining his injuries. It didn't require any medical knowledge to see that his armour was punctured in several places – including a piece of debris that had penetrated from his back, through to his chest. He was still bleeding profusely.

"I need to find some gel, or you're going to bleed out," Myke announced bluntly. "Stay put."

"Our corpsman went down just over there," the marine jerked his chin off to the left.

Sure enough, Myke found a well-stocked kit still tucked beneath the body of a dead marine. She prised it out and returned to her patient. He continued to regard her through wary eyes, still unconvinced of her good intentions despite the fact that she was kneeling at his side, tearing open the gel.

"Whose blood is on your hands?"

Myke looked up for a moment and met his tired gaze before resuming her work. She shook her head. "Another marine. I tried but I couldn't help him."

Silence descended again. The gel seemed to help. It sealed the wounds. Myke knew she should signal for help, but she didn't want to risk another trigger-happy marine firing at her.

"I've never seen a sq…one of your kind up close," he commented in a whisper. "You're not as scary as I thought."

Myke snorted. "Scary? Asari? Of course not-" She frowned and thought of someone like Aria T'Loak. "Okay, maybe some of us are, but most of us are just like me - normal." Myke sat back on her haunches, anxiety starting to creep into her thoughts. "I've done what I can but I can't risk moving you. I'll send help when I find it."

"You've done enough. Go on, you've obviously got somewhere to be," he jerked his head, managing a small smile. "Sorry for being an asshole.

Myke accepted the apology with a nod. "I'm looking for Captain Williams and her team. Have you seen her?"

"Yeah, before the shooting started. Heading off to the north-west."

With her scavenged medkit tucked under her arm, Myke pushed on. While there were still shouts and the odd gunshot in the distance, an eerie silence had largely settled over the battlefield. Having spent her entire life in space, Myke realised that she didn't find Chasca's perpetual twilight overly strange. There was more than enough light to navigate by. The aspect she found most difficult was the sky stretching overhead. She was used to having a ceiling, or the bedrock of Omega's asteroid. It felt unnerving to have nothing above her other than the apparently endless purple sky.

Myke supposed she might have found it pretty at a different time, but for the present she kept her eyes focused. Perhaps there would be time later to stare up at it. Hopefully whilst lying next to Sam, Myke mused, allowing herself a small smile. Although her fears for Sam's safety were still very much present, Myke was reassured by the fact that she'd seen Sam leave the Normandy with Captain Williams. And anyone that was that scary was definitely someone you wanted to have at your side during a firefight.

Still when all of this was over and done with, Myke still fully expected to end up in all kinds of trouble for stowing away. She was convinced that the only thing keeping her safe from punishment was the fact that there were more pressing matters to attend to. And Dr Chakwas is going to kick my ass for getting lost, Myke mused, remembering the doctor's strict instructions to stay close. Stick to her like glue she said. Funny phrase-

At first Myke thought nothing of seeing the boots of yet another body of a marine. This one was partially buried by debris, armour blackened. The hand still clutched a familiar looking rifle. It wasn't until Myke saw the dark hair and curve of a pale cheek that she realised exactly why it was familiar.

"Captain Williams!" The words left Myke's lips as she scrambled forward, throwing herself down. Without stopping to think, she began dragging the debris away, heavy as it was, until it was clear.

Further words died on her lips as she stared at Normandy's Captain. Ashley lay on her front, head turned slightly as though merely lying on a pillow. The marine's eyes were heavily lidded, but still open, her lips parted as though she was about to say something. However, even before she pressed her fingers against Ashley's neck, Myke knew that the word would never emerge.

Her touch provided only confirmation. Ashley was dead. Myke jerked her hand back. She sat on her haunches, unable to draw her gaze away despite wanting to look anywhere else. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes.

The worst thing was, the tears and the pain in the pit of her stomach weren't as a result of Ashley. They were for Sam. If Ashley was dead, what did that mean for Sam?

"Get away from her, you filthy squid!"

Myke spun around in fright, managing only to fall over onto her back. As she scrambled backwards, she found herself staring directly into the barrel of a pistol. At the other end of the pistol Myke found another marine. This one would have been beautiful, save for the fact that her face was contorted into a mask of fury that left Myke's blood cold.

"Don't shoot! I just found her!" Myke protested, not caring how pathetic her voice sounded. The tears that had threatened to fall were now streaming down her cheeks. "Please."

The woman surged forward. Myke raised an arm in defence but it was futile. She cried out as she was struck across the temple with the butt of the pistol.

"Shut up! What the hell did you do to Captain Williams?"

"Nothing! I found her like this," Myke repeated, trying to force the panic from her voice. She felt the warmth of blood flowing down her cheek.

Whilst keeping her pistol trained on Myke, the marine stepped forward and examined Ashley's body for herself, feeling for a pulse. Myke watched out of the corner of her eye, keeping her hands in plain sight.

"Fuck!" the woman hissed loudly, ramming her fist into the ground. "God-fucking damn you, Williams, you absolute cunt! This was not supposed to happen."

"I'm with the Normandy. I was working with Dr Chakwas," Myke tried to explain. "We were separated and I came to look for-"

"Shut the hell up, you lying piece of filth! Look at this fucking mess! At least I can have the satisfaction of pulling a bullet in the middle of your ugly face."

Only one word entered Myke's head. Shit.

A shot rang out. Myke watched as the woman who had been about to shoot her went sprawling backwards, landing heavily on the ground. As Myke scrambled into a crouch, the marine did not move.

"Myke!"

Myke's head jerked around. "Sam?"

She found Sam Traynor, pistol in hand, unsteadily picking herself up from the ground. Much like Ashley, Sam was an absolute mess - covered from helmet to boot in a mixture of dirt and blood. However unlike Ashley, Sam was very much alive. Myke's joy at seeing Sam was tempered by Ashley's body. She lurched to her feet, both with the intention of helping Sam and keeping her from seeing Ashley.

"Sam!" Myke blocked Sam's path, encompassing her in a gentle embrace. She inhaled gratefully. Sam smelled of burning flesh, blood and sweat. Myke suddenly found herself unable to stop crying. She drew back, cupped Sam's cheeks. "You're alive."

Sam managed a nod in response. Her usually rich skin was a sickly colour. Despite Myke's efforts, Sam moved out from Myke's hold. Sam couldn't fail to notice the body lying nearby.

"Oh god," Sam whispered in disbelief. Her gaze went to Myke, lip trembling. "Is she..."

As Sam's voice trailed off, Myke could only offer up a weak nod. She wanted to be able to do something to fix everything – especially the devastated expression on Sam's face. Sam stumbled forward, as though about to drop to her knees, but she caught herself. Her gaze fixed on the second body.

"I shot, Alves." Sam looked at the pistol in her hand as though seeing it for the first time. She turned to look at Myke, shaking her head. "She was going to kill you…so I shot her. I shot another marine."

"What does that mean?" Myke asked, watching the play of emotions across Sam's face.

Their gazes met. Sam shook her head slowly. "I don't know…but nothing good. Oh, Ash…"

Movement in the distance drew Myke's attention. A squad of Alliance soldiers were approaching in a staggered formation. Myke didn't recognise any of them as faces she'd seen on the Normandy. Sam had resumed staring at Ashley's body, oblivious to anyone or anything outside of her limited view.

Nothing good, Myke thought, focusing on the marines. The trouble was, Sam represented everything that was good. Myke's survival instincts kicked in. There was no way that she was prepared to let any harm come to Sam. Even if it meant doing something that Sam couldn't agree with. She pulled her hood up over her crests.

Without saying a word, Myke grabbed Sam's elbow in an unwavering grip. As casually as possible, she started leading the young woman away from the two bodies. Predictably, Sam dug her heels in, fighting to stay put.

"They'll kill you!" Myke hissed vehemently. "We need to get out of here!"

"I can't just-"

"Sam!" Myke snapped, continuing to half-drag, half-push the reluctant young human down the street. At any moment she expected to hear shouts and the sounds of pursuit. "I don't know what the fuck is going on here, but I know how to stay alive. Trust me, we need to keep walking."

The composure in her own voice surprised Myke. It didn't reflect the roiling current of emotions beneath the surface. First and foremost she was terrified – for both herself and Sam, but also of the unknown. There was no plan beyond walking away. For once in her life, she needed to be someone who could take charge and make decisions – even if those decisions made no sense. Their immediate concern was to keep walking, one foot after the other.

Myke eventually risked a glance over her shoulder. The marines were running towards the bodies. While several paused, one noticed the pair leaving the scene. She heard a shout that might have been an order to stop. That was the last thing she was going to do.

"Run!" Myke propelled Sam between two buildings, out of the line of sight. "Just keep running!"

That's the extent of your brilliant plan, Kasos? Keep running? Myke thought as her breath came in lumbering gasps. One thing was clear, she was desperately unfit. For a moment she wondered whether talking to the marines could have made a difference, then she remembered the tone of the female marine's voice. Myke had plenty of experience of being on the receiving end of aversion – Aria was her father after all - but she'd never felt such overt hatred. It scared her.

"Kasos!"

Myke had never been happier to hear a familiar voice in her life. She found Dr Chakwas running towards her, flanked by three marines – all of whom Myke recognised as being Normandy crew. Despite the murderous expression on the doctor's face, Myke couldn't help but utter a relieved sigh at the sight of someone who possessed an iota of good sense.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Chakwas demanded as she approached. "I told you to stay with me. This is a warzone, not a playground!"

Chakwas stopped, her anger giving way as she assessed the situation. Myke was still trying to catch her breath while Sam looked as though she was on the verge of throwing up.

"What happened?" Chakwas asked slowly. "Where is Captain Williams?"

"She's dead," Myke replied bluntly, looking over her shoulder. "And we have to move."

"What?" Chakwas shook her head. She reached out and placed her hand on Sam's shoulder. "Chief, what happened?"

"It's true," Sam mumbled, refusing to look at anywhere other than the ground. "Ashley's dead…and I shot Captain Alves. They're going to court-martial me…or shoot me on the spot."

"Hey," Myke said as she grabbed Sam, forcing her lover to look at her. "I don't know what the first thing you said even is, but it's not going to happen and no one is going to shoot you." Myke looked desperately towards Chakwas. "Doctor? No one's going to shoot Sam, right?"

"Stop! Weapons down!"

The Normandy crewmembers all turned to face the threat. Five Alliance marines were advancing fifty yards away, weapons raised in their direction. Myke instinctively stepped in front of Sam, dragging the young woman behind her even though her own bulk was hardly sufficient.

Chakwas stepped forward, hands on her hips. "You're addressing a Major, corporal. So I'd point those rifles somewhere else or you'll find yourself up on a charge faster than you can blink."

The corporal lowered his weapon. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but the Chief is to be taken into custody, pending charges of shooting to kill an officer of the Alliance Navy. That squid was involved too."

"Negative," Chakwas replied in an icy voice. "The Chief and our asari friend will be returning to the Normandy. Any charges can be discussed through the proper channels."

"No can do, ma'am. Hand her over or we'll be forced to open fire."

"Oh hell," Chakwas muttered, almost under her breath.

Myke found it difficult to remember a time when she'd been in a worse mess. She dragged up memories from the Cerberus occupation and came up blank. Even facing her father was preferable to the situation in which she now found herself. The worst thing about it was that she wasn't even supposed to be there in the first place. Now she was going to die in a hail of gunfire, and Sam along with her. Just when her life had been starting to get exciting.

It was only when the blonde haired marine to her right made a sudden movement that Myke realised she had missed some imperceptible signals. The marine cast something to the ground. In an instant their surrounds were swallowed by a thick, orange smoke. Someone seized Myke's wrist, almost yanking it free from her arm. Myke didn't protest, forcing her legs to move as the gunfire commenced. The marine, Myke didn't know his name, eventually let go but not before making sure she was following.

"Petrova, Campbell - cover fire!" Chakwas yelled. "Try not to actually hit those morons. Fleeting, we need an LZ."

"They're trying to hit us, ma'am!" Petrova snapped.

Chakwas brought up her omni-tool. "This is Chakwas to the Normandy. Normandy come in?"

{Reading you loud and clear, Major.} It was Grenier. {What the hell's going on down there, ma'am? We lost contact with Captain Williams over an hour ago. Everything's Fubar-}

"Cut the chatter, XO. We need an emergency evac five minutes ago."

{Ma'am?}

"Evac first, explanations later!"

{Okay, we're coming up on your position now. Don't tell me the LZ's still hot?}

Myke followed Chakwas and Sam into cover, already feeling as though the rattle of weapons fire was taking place inside her head. Although she felt like curling into a tight ball, she forced a brave expression onto her face as she took Sam's hand in her own. She gripped Sam's hand as tightly as she dared.

Chakwas stared at them both. Even Normandy's doctor looked slightly shell-shocked. "I don't know what mess you girls have gotten yourselves into, but I'll be damned before I hand you over to anyone without question."

Before long, the hum of the Normandy's thrusters sounded in the distance, growing closer. Myke found herself running again, Sam's hand still encased tightly in her own. Running for her life, being chased by a hail of gunfire wasn't exactly how she had pictured spending her first day on the ground. When her boots hit the artificial solidity of Normandy's landing ramp, Myke felt almost a grateful sense of relief.

Normandy's XO was there to meet their group, a confused expression on his face. "Major? I'm getting orders for the Normandy to stand down from the rest of the squadron. And something about Traynor shooting Captain Alves. What the hell happened down there?"

Sam pushed past her way past Myke. "Sir...you need to hand me over-"

"No way!" The words left Myke's lips before she even formed a coherent thought. She reached out for Sam, wrapping an arm around her waist to stop her taking another step.

"Myke, you've got to let me do this," Sam said with a firm shake of her head, effortlessly twisting free from Myke's hold.

Grenier held up his hands, silencing both of them. He turned to Chakwas with a helpless expression on his face. "Major? Where is Captain Williams?"

"Williams is dead," Chakwas replied in a tight voice. "The command is yours, LC. The decision is yours."

"Ash is…" Grenier looked shell-shocked, stumbling backwards as though he'd been physically hit.

Although spoken quietly, the doctor's words seemed to echo throughout the shuttle bay. Myke watched the crew's faces as they tried to digest the announcement. A few were shaking their heads as though it couldn't possibly be true. Lieutenant Cortez had immediately dropped to one knee on the deck, hand over his eyes. Despite not being a part of the crew, or having known Ashley Williams well at all, Myke felt their pain. She felt it through Sam, and she felt it through the reactions of the crew. The Captain had meant something to all of them.

Her detachment however was enough to bring her back to their present situation. The Normandy was held in position just above Chasca's surface, landing ramp still deployed. Myke could clearly see the marines still on the ground, surrounding the ship, weapons at the ready.

"Um, whatever you're going to do-" Her voice trembled slightly, made worse by the fact that most of the group turned to look at her. "-you need to do it now."

The XO turned his attention away from Myke, back to Dr Chakwas. "Major, I have no idea what I'm doing or why, but I'm on the cusp of disobeying a direct order. I need you to tell me I'm making the right decision."

Chakwas looked pained. "I don't know if there is a right decision here. We leave and we're all facing a one-way ticket out of the SA."

"Or we stay and-" Grenier looked towards Sam.

"I'm not handing over the Chief," Chakwas interrupted firmly. "You asked for my advice? My instincts are telling me that something's not right here. We need to leave."

In that moment Myke could have hugged Chakwas. She watched the play of emotions across the man's face. She barely knew Grenier at all and yet Sam's fate rested entirely in his hands.

"Joker? Get us out of here!" Grenier ordered.

{Err, a destination would be helpful,} the pilot replied.

Grenier closed his eyes for a moment. "Omega. Take us back to Omega."


Even as the Normandy's landing ramp closed and Sam knew that they were actually leaving Chasca, the tension did not leave her body. She was exhausted, she hurt everywhere, and all she wanted to do was crawl into a dark place somewhere, preferably with Myke's arms wrapped around her. She met her lover's gaze for a moment, Myke started towards her but Sam held up her hand. There was one awful job to do before she could give into the pain.

Sam approached Leon Grenier. Normandy's XO still wore an expression of incredulity, as though he wasn't sure whether any of the events he had just witnessed had actually taken place. He sensed Sam walking towards him and looked up to meet her gaze. Sam was suddenly struck by how young Grenier actually was. His shoulders sagged with the weight of what he'd just done.

"Leon…"

He shook his head. "You don't need to say anything, Sam. I trust you…I trust Chakwas. I don't trust what the Alliance has become." He bit his lip for a moment, drawing in a shaky breath before continuing. "Did you find Sarah?"

Sam nodded mutely. The expression on her face must have said everything as Grenier's composure crumpled for a moment. His eyes watered before he managed to regain control with a deep breath.

"What happened?"

"It was quick," Sam replied. The lie was the only mercy she could offer. "She wouldn't have felt a thing."

"And Ash?"

Sam exhaled shakily. "I don't remember much, but I think she saved my life."

"How…" Grenier's whisper trailed off. He started shaking his head again. "How did everything go so wrong?"

"The Alliance," Sam said. Although she wasn't about to gloss over her role in the mess – she'd willingly pulled the trigger on Alves – she had spoken to Shepard, heard the antagonism in the former Commander's voice when she mentioned the Alliance. Now Sam had seen first-hand the calibre of people who were rising through the ranks. "It's rotten at the core. I don't know how…but I know it's not the organisation we joined, Leon. When we get back to Omega she'll tell you everything."

"She?" Grenier frowned. "Who are you talking about, Sam?"

"I can't tell you yet…just trust me for now," Sam pleaded. "Ashley knew everything, she would have made the same decision."

He offered up a minute nod in reply, but Sam could tell that Grenier didn't understand. They parted without a further word, neither interested in further conversation. Without looking at anyone, even Myke, Sam started walking. Her path took her to the armoury and the scene of her conversation with Ashley that morning over the weapons bench.

She reached out and laid her hand on the table where James Vega had spent so many hours, where Ash had lovingly obsessed over her Black Widow. Sam felt devastated enough to cry, but the tears wouldn't come.

A shadow fell over the bench. Sam didn't need to look up to know it was Myke.

"Please don't say you're sorry," Sam pre-empted what she thought Myke might say. "Nothing that happened today was your fault."

Silence descended between the two of them. Myke kept a respectful distance, remaining on the opposite side of the bench, but she did reach across and touch Sam's hand. When Myke went to withdraw the touch, Sam responded, latching on and holding tight.

"Will you let Dr Chakwas take a look at you?" Myke suggested quietly.

The difficulty was, Sam didn't want the physical pain to go away.

"I just left her body there," Sam whispered, shaking her head repeatedly. "She was Captain, my friend...and I just left her body fucking lying there as though she was nothing."


"Ma'am? Captain Alves?"

At the back of her mind, Alves was aware that someone was trying to get her attention. However she was far too preoccupied with her own thoughts, trying to think through her blinding headache.

Not since Torfan had she been in charge of such a complete fuck up. Firstly she hadn't banked on that stupid kid evading the slavers. Alves was no stranger to blood on her hands, but this kill had been different. Sarah Williams hadn't been another faceless Batarian, but rather a marine and a veteran. Now she was another casualty in the ongoing struggle. One that would haunt her for a long time to come.

That was a personal matter that she would have to deal with. Irrelevant in the wider plan. What was relevant, was the second wave that had hit with little warning. It required significant restraint on her part not to connect a call to Kessler and demand to know from that son of a bitch what the hell had happened. It was the reason that Ashley Williams was now lying dead at her feet and she had narrowly avoided being killed with a bullet to the head by another marine. The wound to her skull hurt like hell, but it was superficial. The shot has just grazed her. Usually she wouldn't be so thankful that one of their own had such piss poor aim.

"Cap-"

Alves turned, silencing the marine with a curt glare. "What?"

"The Normandy…do we have permission to pursue?"

A disdainful snort escaped Alves' lips. "With what, corporal? None of the antiquated pieces of shit under my command would be able to catch that damned ship. It's gone. Now make yourself useful and find a damn body bag for this bitch."

She punctuated her order and vented some of her anger by lashing out with her boot. There was a loud thunk as armour collided with armour, but any sense of satisfaction was short-lived. She had the sinking feeling that somehow she would end up being the scapegoat for this particular fuck up.

"That's Captain Williams, ma'am."

At the sudden statement Alves looked up. She hadn't been paying any sort of attention to the marine she'd been addressing. Now she could see that the private in question was a young woman. Alves sneered when she saw that there were actual tears in the marine's eyes. Probably one of the fools that had enlisted because of Ashley fucking Williams.

"That doesn't make her any less dead. Now tag and bag the damn body!" Alves growled. "I want off this rock asap."

Her mind was already moving onto the next task, namely explaining the whole mess to her superiors. She turned her back on the private. Alves knew full well that her anger was misplaced. It was fuelled by the same jealousy that bubbled to the surface whenever she heard talk about the great Commander Shepard. She was never able to escape that lingering thought at the back of her mind – she should have been that hero. The reason for kids deciding to enlist in the Corps. The thought was easily suppressed. Alves knew exactly where being a hero led - Shepard was a hunted fugitive and Williams was fucking dead.


Several hours later Alves found herself sitting in front of her private terminal, rapping her fingernails impatiently on the desk as she waited for a secure connection. Knowing the person she was trying to connect to, Alves imagined that the delay was deliberate.

"No video, Cristiane?" Despite the fact that the display was saying it was 3am on Earth, the voice did not sound sleepy in the slightest.

"I don't feel like looking at your insufferable face," Alves muttered. She massaged her temples, listening to that accent was almost just as irritating.

"Well, the feeling is mutual," was the curt response. "Is everything proceeding according to plan?"

"Not exactly," Alves actually realised that she felt a perverse sort of pleasure around her pending revelation. "The whole Ashley Williams scenario just became a hell of a lot more interesting."

There was an irritated snort on the other side of the connection. "Don't tell me the sister survived? If Captain Williams isn't compliant, that's your problem."

"Oh, she's very compliant." Alves smirked, suddenly wishing she had opted for video. Fuck it, might as well go all in. "She's dead. Good luck with that, doctor."


* The title of this chapter is taken from Tennyson's Crossing the Bar