Disclaimer: Bioware and EA own the characters, setting, et cetera, I'm just playing in their sandbox.

Wilbur opened his eyes to find that he was on the beach of a tropical island. Standing up, he saw a bar and grill to his left, a surfer's shack to his right, and towels, umbrellas, and baskets on the sand. The only thing missing was any other people whatsoever, except for the bartender. 'Great, I'm dead again. But, didn't I see some hole in the wall place last time?' Padding over to the bar, he asked the apparition, "Hey, what do you have on tap?"

The apparition turned around and Wilbur saw a human male, Caucasian, roughly 190 cm, older but still fit, oddly dressed in a jumpsuit that was mostly black, but with red shoulders and a light purple underlayer. "Just about whatever you could want. I recently came across the recipe for an interesting concoction called the Mobius Strip. Would you care to try it?"

'Sounds like a good one to try before I just go for a Bud or something.' Wilbur went to set up a tab. "Sure, just let me... crap, my omnitool's fried. Sorry." He started to walk away when he heard a glass being placed on the bar.

The bartender knew a soul in need when he saw one. "This one's on the house, you're the first person I've run across lately to deserve a glass of this stuff."

Wilbur raised an eyebrow, wondering about his motives. He doubted it would be as bad as that Batarian in Afterlife. "It's that good?" The bartender nodded, and Wilbur took a sip. "Damn, this is tasty. Makes me feel like... I could do anything..."

The bartender smirked. "You could say that..."

Wilbur's head snapped up and asked accusingly, "Where am I and who are you?"

Rolling his eyes, the bartender deadpanned, "You're dead, this is the afterlife, and I'm God."

In the distance, they both heard what sounded like and older human male with a British accent exclaim, "No, I am not dead. Because I refuse to believe the afterlife is run by you. The universe is not so badly designed!"

Facepalming at the human's stubborn insistence to accept the obvious, he replied, "Mon Capitan, surely you realize that your galaxy isn't the only one I go gallivanting about in? Even the best theme parks get boring after what you would consider a few million years." With a snap of his fingers, the older human disappeared, leaving Wilbur alone with the bartender.

He had to ask, "What was that all about? And are you really God?"

Shrugging, the bartender answered, "I could be if I wanted, but no. My real name is Q, and this is my little slice of the Q Continuum. As for the argument, Picard doesn't realize that your galaxy is more interesting to me than his."

Wilbur processed that, decided that his curiosity about the man Picard's galaxy could wait, and asked Q, "So why am I here, instead of oblivion?"

Q's nonchalant answer surprised him. "To grant you another chance to defeat the Reapers. I could just remove them myself, but it's so much fun to watch what you mortals can do when properly motivated."

It hit Wilbur like James' Kodiak hit the Cerberus one on Mars. 'Another chance... ' He asked, "What must I do?"

Q's expression turned serious. "Win. I'm willing to send your soul as it is now back into your body at whatever point in time you choose, along with one other and some of those primitive OSD's your galaxy is so fond of. When in your history do you want to return?"

Wilbur mulled over it for a few minutes, debating showing up in the medical bay of Normandy SR-1, but decided that, "A week after the battle I was in, on Elysium. I'll have more time to prepare that way. Now, who did you have in mind for choices?"

Just then multiple flashes of white light happened at once, and when it was over holograms of Saren Arterius, the Yahg that was formerly the Shadow Broker, and The Illusive Man all stood before him. Q told Wilbur, "Choose wisely. I will only provide this opportunity once."

'Damn, no friends. Still, for when I'm going, they're the only ones with power and influence.' Not liking his options much, Wilbur asked, "Can I talk to them first? See if my former enemies know the folly of their ways?"

"They will know what they do now, whether they fully agree with you is up to them."

After several minutes of agonizing internal debate, Wilbur told Q, "I've made my decision."