He awoke to searing pain throbbing behind his eyes which quickly spread throughout every other inch of his body like wildfire, and he squeezed his eyes shut tighter in an attempt to alleviate his sudden discomfort, to little avail. There was a dull sense of weight pressing down on him, as if he was pinned where he lay, and upon trying to lift one of his arms he discovered why. A sharp pain erupted in his joints and shot into his shoulder, lingering between that and his collar bone even after he let his arm relax at his side again. He hissed and tried to position himself in a way that would stop the excruciating pain he was feeling, his breath coming and going in short, sharp spurts as all it did was cause every sleeping part of his body to wake up, angry.

It was evident that he could not move, and fear began to overcome him. Mentally counting down from five, he inhaled slowly and allowed his eyes to flutter open. His vision was blurry and there was scant lighting wherever he was, though once his sight began to focus there was enough for him to see that the walls and ceiling of the room were concrete.

Carefully turning his head from side to side, and having a hell of an easier time doing so than moving any other part of his body, he noticed that he was surrounded by crates and a few empty cots. No windows. One closed door. IV tubes stuck in his hand led him to look towards medical equipment at one side of his cot. As far as he could tell, he was in some kind of storage area, and whoever brought him here had taken care to keep him alive. But if he knew anything, it was to never assume that you're safe.

Gritting his teeth, he attempted to shove himself up into at least a sitting position while consciousness had his mind suddenly reeling. But that same pain from before returned in full force everywhere in his upper body and he collapsed onto his back helplessly. Something was very wrong, but he couldn't remember much before waking up. What happened to him, why he was in so much pain, or why he could barely move…

"Christ…" he rasped dryly, blinking up at the ceiling in defeat. The air was stale, and tasted dusty. He couldn't tell if he was strapped down into the bed or if he was simply that immobile, but a few seconds of exertion had worn him, and his tolerance for pain, out. All he could do was wait for someone to show up… assuming anyone ever would.

Luckily, he didn't have to wait long. His eyes shot up when the doorknob clicked and someone began to enter the room. His personal immobility being at the forefront of his mind, his pulse skyrocketed and panic began to overwhelm him as a blonde stranger emerged from the shadows. He was tall, with a serious face and a crooked nose, clad in a pair of dirty, tattered slacks and a tshirt. The man didn't look very friendly, and it wasn't helping his nerves at all.

"You aren't supposed to be awake," the stranger informed, giving him a brief once-over and shaking his head. "And you shouldn't be moving. Relax." His voice was thick with a British accent and a sharp tone that resembled someone else he knew.

His mouth fell open in an attempt to respond, but no words came. All he could do was watch, wide-eyed and mouth agape, as the unfamiliar man moved to his bedside and observed the equipment he was strapped to. He read his pulse, checked his fluids, made a few notes in a datapad while doing so… completely casual, as if this were an everyday thing. Maybe it was. How long had he been sleeping…?

"I-I can't feel anything…" he finally rasped, drawing the other man's attention. The stranger's green eyes were apathetic and tired, and in case the severity of what he was saying didn't register, he repeated himself. "I can't move."

With a sigh, the blonde man moved away from the bed and began retrieving items from a nearby table: a syringe and a vial of clear liquid. As the syringe was filled and the air bubbles removed from within, his anxiety spiked, though he tried to maintain a calm exterior.

"Wh-what is that?" No answer. "Who are you?" No answer. "Are you a doctor?"

"Yes," the stranger finally snapped, impatiently. "I used to be, anyway. Now relax," he stressed again. "You'll have all of your questions answered soon, but you need to rest right now. This is only to help you sleep," he informed, moving back to the cot.

"But I just woke up!" His pitiful attempt at protesting didn't seem to belay the doctor as he closed the distance between them and pinned one of his arms down to the bed. Judging by his physique, and his own lack of functionality, he realized defeat was imminent.

"W-wait!" he exclaimed before the doctor could stick him with the sedative. "Just tell me one thing…"

The doctor urged him to continue with a faint nod of approval, waiting for the man's inquiry. It was hopelessly predictable.

"Where am I?"

"Where are we?"

News of the navigational system coming back online spread throughout the Normandy quickly. The crew was buzzing with excitement and cramming into the narrow hallway leading to the cockpit, eager to know what corner of the universe they were stranded in.

A couple of weeks had passed without incident, and everyone on board was beginning to grow a bit restless. There was only so much distraction to be found in busy work and drunken card games, and both were starting to lose what little charm they had. Tension was climbing. They needed answers, or at least a solid plan to get back home in the near future. This tidbit of good news was exactly what everyone needed.

"If my readings are correct," EDI began, blinking as she brought up a map of their exact location on her terminal screen. "We've landed on… Aeia. 2175 Aeia."

The information flew over the heads of most of the crew, who were elated to have an answer to one of the most prominent questions plaguing them for weeks now. But to others aboard the Normandy, the knowledge of their location was disconcerting at best.

Towards the back of the crowd, Garrus shifted away from the wall he'd been leaning on and cleared his throat. "Aeia?" he questioned with a hint of unease in his subvocals."Are you sure?"

EDI nodded her head. "That is correct."

Shepard spared the turian a quick, worried glance before flicking her eyes back towards EDI. The two hadn't seen much of each other since their little outing; in fact, Shepard was purposely avoiding Garrus at every possible turn. Surprisingly, he hadn't sought her out. Perhaps he'd lost interest, or was giving her the space she'd demanded. Perhaps he felt as unnerved by the evening as she did. Whatever his reasoning, she was grateful for the distance.

"This is the planet the Gernsback crashed on…" Shepard muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. How had she not recognized it? It had been so beautiful back then, though she hadn't had much time to admire the scenery between gunning down crazed soldiers and offering emotional support to her comrade. A sudden realization crossed her mind and she furrowed her brows. "EDI, how far away is Captain Taylor's camp?"

After typing a command into her console, EDI waited a couple of seconds before answering. "Captain Taylor's camp is located approximately 2,021.976 kilometers away from our current location."

"So… pretty far away," Tali peeped, sounding relieved. Though she hadn't been asked to accompany Shepard on that mission, she'd heard a detailed recollection of the events that took place planet-side, and had skimmed through the mission report at least twice. Afterwards, she was thankful for being left behind on the Normandy.

Garrus didn't seem so at ease. Unlike Tali, he had accompanied Shepard and Jacob to this planet only a year before in search of the human man's father. And what they'd found had left a bad taste in each of their mouths. Even thinking about it now had the same effect.

Taylor had gone completely nuts, hoarding all of the ship's supplies for himself, killing the very people he was sworn to protect. The men had turned into monsters, and the women were corralled like livestock. It wasn't until he could no longer hide out that the scumbag sent out a distress signal, but by then it was too late.

They'd left him defenseless, screaming at the hands of the men he betrayed, and when the Alliance came to pick up the remaining survivors, Captain Taylor wasn't among them. Whether he or any of his men were alive or dead was a mystery, one that Garrus didn't really want solved while they were stuck on this planet.

Judging by the look on Shepard's face, she felt the same way.

She wove through the crowd and into the cockpit before placing her hands on the back of EDI's chair. "Is there a way for us to know if there are other sentient lifeforms on this planet? Survivors from the Hugo Gernsback, maybe?"

"I will check." EDI began typing again and shifted in her seat once the screen changed. "Shepard… I am detecting another vessel located 6.92 kilometers away." She spun around in her chair and tilted her head up to look Lillian in the eyes. "It is an Alliance ship."

Shepard wordlessly nibbled at the inside of her cheek as the news of potential survivors, Alliance servicemen, sunk in, allowing excited chatter to invade the quiet space around her. She hadn't actually expected EDI to find anyone else on the planet, and judging by the rising, enthusiastic volume of those around her, she guessed no one else did either.

A voice only a few of them had heard for some time finally broke through the chatter. "We need to find it." Everyone turned to look at Williams, their expressions a mix of surprise and agreement. Not half a month had passed since they'd landed on this planet trying to escape the Crucible's mysterious green beam, and the damages suffered by the Normandy were minor at best. No one was injured, thankfully. With the proper equipment, they could get off of the ground easily. But the state of this other ship, or its crew, was unknown, and they needed to find it. "They're Alliance, we owe it to them to look."

"Count me in," Vega exclaimed enthusiastically, punching a fist into his other palm.

Garrus straightened up. "Me too." Calibrating guns that were useless groundside was becoming tiresome, and there was only so much that he could do to help out in other areas of the ship. He wouldn't pass up the chance to go on an actual mission for anything.

James gave the turian an appreciative smile before looking Shepard's way. "You comin', Lola?"

Shepard looked up from the floor with a conflicted expression painted on her face. She was trying not to let the hesitation she felt bubbling up in the pit of her stomach show, but she had little faith in her ability. It had been months since she'd even held a firearm, and even longer since she'd been responsible for anyone else's well-being. She wasn't sure she was ready to bear that burden again, but what choice did she have?

A glance in Ashley's direction had her wondering if Greg ever felt this kind of trepidation.

Doubtful.

He was always so certain. Stupidly so from time to time. And here she was, mentally cringing at the thought of a little recon. Screw that. She could do this.

It would be like riding a bike… Hopefully.

"Yeah… Yeah, sure," she finally answered, clearing her throat. "Alright." She straightened up and squared her shoulders as she eased into Commander-mode. As far as she was concerned, being relieved of duty meant zip on 2175 Aeia. Everyone still referred to her as Commander anyway, and Garrus had expected her to step into her old shoes. She could still play the part.

"Whoever's coming, get down to the armory and gear up. We'll be on foot, so keep it light. We'll move in ten. Everyone else stay here, stay sharp, and stay busy. We'll keep in contact over radio. I want a team ready to assist, should any shit hit the fan…" Her gaze drifted from Tali to Ashley as she debated on who would be in charge of the back-up squad. The situation was too familiar and she felt a sick feeling in her gut. Thankfully the choice was obvious, and there wasn't much time spent debating. "… Tali. You lead it."

The quarian nodded in her corner. "Alright, Shepard." She was already using her omni-tool to select and prepare a team, should a need for their assistance arise, when Shepard looked away.

As she scanned the crowd, she caught one set of blue eyes trained on her and held their stare. She could have sworn that there was the faintest hint of a smile behind them, so she shook her head and looked elsewhere. "Okay, we all know what to do. Go!"

A trio consisting of James, Garrus, and Shepard departed on foot ten minutes after the meeting, right on time. They were moving quickly through the forest, their destination set. So far it had been an easy trek. They were making good time. If they kept up their current pace, they would reach the ship and be back aboard the Normandy before nightfall… assuming all went according to plan.

Shepard was marching ahead of the two men, shoving and stomping her way through the branches and shrubbery, armed with a shotgun and pistol. Being in her armor again felt foreign and disorienting, but hardly uncomfortable; it still fit like a second skin, and she felt herself fuse with it more and more as each second passed. It was… homey. The hesitation that she'd felt before had dissipated early on in their adventure, and now she felt unstoppable. Whether it was due to her own emotional state or some kind of placebo effect would be up for debate later; right now, she was interested in one thing only: finding the ship.

"It's nice to have her back, eh Scars?"

The sudden noise snapped Garrus out of the trance he'd been in, following Shepard to hell and back just like the good old days. His eyes were wide open, constantly on the lookout for potential threats, his visor busy scanning and analyzing everything in sight while his other senses were muted, on standby for the moment when she would shout at them to move, take cover, or assist. He wasn't expecting to chit-chat, least of all with someone whom he felt such a primal, competitive aggression towards. But he decided to entertain him anyhow. "Hm?"

The marine nodded in the direction of their leader. "The Commander… Y'know, commanding. She seems different." James hadn't known Lillian until after she was placed under arrest, and by then she was so far gone from the Commander she'd once been that she hardly recognized herself. She was a different Lillian Shepard than she knew, a different Lillian Shepard than the world, the galaxy knew. But she was the only Lillian Shepard James knew, and it was exciting to see her in action, her head held high and her eyes ablaze with purpose. "It's nice."

The turian watched Shepard carve her way through the greenery with a shotgun cradled in her arms. She looked confident and brave, like there's nowhere else she'd rather be, just as she had years before. Looking at this woman now, you'd never know that only days before she'd been on the verge of a breakdown. His mandibles spread open in a wide smile, a soft glint in his eyes, and maybe he sighed a little bit.

"Yeah… It is," he responded quietly, shaking the appreciative look off of his face and diverting his gaze to the marine next to him. He was met with a curious stare. "What?"

A crooked little grin pulled at the corner of James' mouth as he continued to stare at Garrus. "Nothin'… Just watching you admiring the view," he answered.

Garrus glanced around at the forest, unsure of what the younger man was referring to… until his blue eyes landed on the back of Shepard's head and heat began radiating beneath his skin. "Oh… Ah… It's not, uh…" He cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away, feeling somewhat guilty that he'd been caught staring at the Commander. Was he that obvious?

James stifled a laugh and shook his head. "Don't sweat it. There probably ain't a man alive who hasn't thought about her once or twice." He stopped walking then and turned to face his turian comrade, oblivious to the discomfort his admission had just caused him. "But listen…"

Garrus slowed to a stop as well, curiosity suddenly brimming. Was James about to admit to him what he feared? That he and Shepard were joined, so he was 'barking up the wrong tree', whatever that means…? The short silence following James' lead-in had his curiosity turning to anxiety, and he wasn't sure he wanted to hear what he was going to say.

James leaned in before continuing, and spoke in barely more than a whisper. "I'm not saying she can't handle herself, we all know she can. But, every once in a while she needs a little help…" He reached up to rub the back of his neck as he fought to think of the correct way to get his point across. "As a kid, did you ever have like a favorite toy that you played with so much, it wore down and eventually broke… And no matter how many times you tried to fix it with stitching or tape or glue, it was never really the same? That's Shepard."

The metaphor was clearly lost on Garrus who was staring at Jame's blankly, his brow plates furrowed and his mandibles drawn in against his face.

The marine sighed and shook his head. "She's strong, but there are parts of her that are broken. And it doesn't matter that there's stitches or glue or whatever holding her together, 'cause she may never be the same. So, y'know, handle with care and all that."

"Hey."

Both men looked up to find Shepard staring at them impatiently from about five yards ahead. "I think we're close. C'mon," she snapped, glaring at each of them in turn.

They both shut up and caught up to her just as they broke through a thicket of trees and the other ship came into view. It was immediately obvious that this frigate was much worse for wear than the Normandy, having landed in the trees rather than in a clearing. It's wings were almost completely severed from the body of the ship which was crumpled and broken itself, and much of its paneling was torn off and lay strewn about the forest floor. Black soot covered several, varying parts of the ship and the bark of surrounding trees where fires had been extinguished. Though it was still mostly intact, it was a mess.

The team approached the wreckage slowly, weapons at the ready. There was no telling what they would find. The area was quiet, unnervingly so, and all they could hear was the sound of leaves and grass crunching beneath their own deliberate footsteps.

"SSV Lexington…" Shepard read, her light eyes scanning over what remained of the ship's exterior. As far as she could tell, there was no one here. Perhaps no one survived the crash, though that seemed unlikely. Or perhaps the survivors left… There was no way to know until they searched the crash site thoroughly. "Spread out," she commanded, pointing Garrus and James in different directions with the barrel of her gun. "We'll make sure it's safe out here before we try to find a way inside."

"Yes ma'am," James muttered with a firm nod, walking off in the opposite direction of Garrus who departed on a soft: "Understood."

Lillian continued to walk along the body of the frigate, looking for any kind of clue as to where the men aboard were. The ship being so badly damaged, she had to step over and under pieces of it carefully. Occasionally something rattled loose or rumbled lowly with the desire to give, and she found herself practically running out of the way. She'd never been so jumpy before, and she didn't like it. She missed her rage-fueled adrenaline and briefly considered opening a comm line with Garrus just to start an argument. Minutes ticked by silently and still she had yet to find even a single footprint or hear a word from her teammates, and just when it was begin to feel a little eerie, Vega's welcome voice broke through the quiet.

"'Ey Commander… I found something you might wanna check out. You too, Scars. Sending you my location now."

"On my way," Shepard confirmed, following the coordinates provided around to the opposite side of the crash site where James was standing at the edge of the woods, looking down. She reached him just a moment sooner than Garrus, and what they found shocked them all into a deeper silence.

Before them were a handful of graves, tended to with obvious care. The plots were of uniform size and lined up perfectly one after the other, the soil dark and fresh. They couldn't be more than a few days old.

It was Garrus who eventually voiced what they were all thinking. "Looks like we found the crew." He hung his head and cleared his throat. "Some of them anyway," he added softly.

Lillian nodded and bit at her bottom lip, trying to keep her nerves at bay. "But where are the rest of them?" she wondered aloud, exchanging a worried glance with the turian beside her.

From around the corner of the ship, movement caught James' eye and he turned around with his rifle raised as four men revealed themselves, their own firearms trained on the trio standing next to the graves.

"Well I'll be damned," the one in front spoke, lowering his gun slightly. "Of all the things we expected to find on this planet, a Shepard wasn't one of 'em."

A/N:

Here's chapter six, finally!
I apologize for the lengthy, and characteristic, delay. Y'know, life and all that.
I'm excited that I finally finished it though. I literally changed it around at least seven times, and each of those times at least 2000 words were lost to my indecisiveness and harsh self-criticism, lol. There was also a long stint with writer's block where I couldn't even be bothered to edit.

So, for initially not wanting it to end up the way that it did, I'm pretty happy with it. Also, I'm working on Chapter 7 right meow, so I'm hoping and praying to the writing gods that my brain doesn't crap out on me again.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading, and as always, all criticism is welcome criticism!

OOH, most importantly I would like to give a giant shout-out to everyone who's supported my little fanfiction baby up to this point. I started doing this as a fun outlet for my love of Mass Effect and all things BioWare-related, but it definitely helps to know that there are a few people out there who dig my story and I am not a total failure. :P So thank you. You are the best! 3