We find glory when we do great things, but we find happiness when we do small things with great love and integrity.

- Senai Destr

He remembered learning how to read.

It's a strange thing to remember, especially compared to the backdrop of his life at the time. Violence, starvation, diphtheria and measles running rampant in the gutter-town of Trinidad, and what he remembered, what he would always remember, was when the little squiggles on the food wrappers first started making sense to him. Learning to read had meant realizing that all that colourful chaos had a pattern to it, and if he could just understand that pattern he could force himself to understand a little more of the world around him.

It had been magical, watching meaning unfold in front of him like that. Street signs, advertisements, graffiti and newspapers crumpled in the gutters, all of it was suddenly data that could be imputed and analyzed and stored away in neat, orderly fashion. The world had always felt like it was screaming at him, jabbering constantly in a foreign language and beating him into the pavement every day under the merciless onslaught of reality. Understanding it a little better had given him control, not a lot of control or anything that was meaningful, but enough to pull him out of the howling animalistic reaction that had been the only emotion his warped mind could produce. It was what ultimately made him human, or at least started him on the first steps toward that lofty ambition.

Learning. Reasoning. Understanding the world. These were the things that made animals into men.

And yet he found he lived most of his life at least half way on instinct. It was the same feral instinct that had kept him alive for years, a living thing inside him that could not be ignored. No amount of intellect could override that certain slimy gut feeling that told him something was wrong, or dangerous, or not to be trusted. Nothing could suppress the firm resolve he felt when he decided something was right. It wasn't logical, but it made sense.

He needed to be the best in both ways, and bring them together. His ability to do that was what made him better than other men. And he was better. If there was one man who had to make this decision, well it was better him than anyone else who was available at the moment.

So he made it. Intellect and instinct, the animal and the man. The Illusive Man could not be trusted, he knew this, knew it to be a fact of the universe. He knew it like he knew he needed to breathe, like day followed night, like the smell of the ocean before a storm. He couldn't be trusted with this.

There were other reasons, but that was the long and the short of it. The Illusive Man had no line, no sacred ground where he dared not tread. He would commit monstrosities with the information in this base, take humanity down to a dark place where there was nothing Shepard had grown to love and admire about his species. He wasn't Alliance, he hadn't sworn any vows and he answered to no one, least of all the human race he claimed to represent.

Honour, respect, compassion, sacrifice, what did any of that mean to the Illusive Man? Nothing. It meant nothing. And Shepard had not come slamming back to life in agony and torment, he had not killed his way into this horrible place and seen what he had seen, he had not lost everything he had lost, only to turn his back on those things and throw in with him.

He made the choice. No. He said no.

He had a line. He had sworn vows, he answered to people, and above all he had a line set in stone that could not be crossed, not for anything.

It was a moment that hung ripe and heavy in his memory, a grander thing than most of what he'd done. He'd gone through two hellish weeks of withdrawal barricaded in a hotel room the size of a prison cell, he'd fought through Elysium, taken the Cipher into his mind, lost Ash, died, come back and now he had made that choice and fought that beast, rising like Satan from the depths of hell itself.

He was proud of himself, proud of his crew, proud of his friends. And in a few moments it was probably all going to be pointless anyway, because they would all be dead.

The Normandy shook like she was coming apart. Shepard had broken two ribs launching himself across that terrifying empty space between the station and the ship and his suit, still in combat mode, had compensated for the injury with a massive dose of painkillers and stims he had nothing to do with now that he was safe. High as a kite, Shepard felt the envelope of the relay pull them in and he knew the Normandy wasn't going to make it.

He had been using Jack as a crutch, blaming the injury when in truth he just wasn't sure he could walk straight without her. She was uncharacteristically cooperative, perhaps because Shepard had gone sliding belly-first toward the open mouth of hell to save her quite recently. Shepard tightened his grip on her shoulder and looked at her. She was already looking at him and he felt her arm tighten around him in response. They had maybe a second before the shift took them.

Jack jutted her jaw out at him the way she always did, like she was ready for a fight. Her eyes were hard, resolute, unwavering. She was absolutely sure they were going to make this jump, Shepard saw it in an instant.

It gave him hope, and then they were streaking through the galaxy at incalculable speeds towards victory or doom.

The ship shuddered once, hard enough to send the two of them stumbling into the wall of the ship. Joker cried out as something snapped loud enough for Shepard to hear it by the door. A moment passed. Then another.

"Little help here?" Joker gasped from the helm.

Shepard lurched forward, found the emergency kit in the wall and loaded a couple shots of medigel.

"Cards on the table Jeff," he gasped, dropping to his knees beside the wounded pilot, "I'm really high right now."

"What?" Joker gasped, looking up at him white-faced and in shock.

"Nevermind," Shepard stuck the needle in the muscle of the stomach, plunging it deep as the muscles relaxed in shock. Joker yelped, but a moment later the vice of pain loosened its grip on him and he slumped back in his seat, breathing evenly.

Shepard leaned back on his heels for an instant, then gave up entirely and dropped back on his ass. He wrenched the helmet off his head and threw it idly to the side, not caring where it wound up. The world swam around him in playful clouds of colour and light.

"So where to?" Joker asked after a moment, looking down at him. He was still rigid in his seat, but his face was remarkably mellow, like this were any other day of their lives.

"The nearest bar," Shepard said, without an instant of hesitation.

"Omega it is," he glanced at the communications board, "Illusive Man on line one for you, commander."

"Good," Shepard rubbed his hands together and tried to remember how his legs worked. Luckily Jack was there and she pulled him to his feet and pointed him in the right direction. "I'll send Chakwas up to see you."

"Whatever." He sounded bored.

"Shepard," she said when they were out of earshot, "I... thanks. Just... thanks."

Maybe it was the drugs. It was probably the drugs, but Shepard looped both arms around her and crushed her quickly against his armoured chest.

"I'm really high," he informed her happily.

"I know, Shepard," she shrugged him off, smiling. "Now go rip the Illusive Man a new asshole. And see the doc."

"Right. Do you want to get some ink later?" He blinked owlishly as an evil grin broke over her face.

"Totally."

"It's a date. I'll do my hair," he turned abruptly on his heel, "but duty calls."

Showering while high was an experience created to reward men for all the hardships they went through in life. Shepard decided that the second time he rinsed his hair out as the hot water rushed down his back and let its heat soak into his aching muscles.

Due to the wonders of ceramic bone implants his busted ribs were nothing but a distant ache. Chakwas had advised him against doing anything too strenuous and sent him on his way without so much as a bandage. He ran his fingers over the skin, there wasn't so much as a bruise to betray the trauma and the flesh was only slightly swollen under his fingers. Other than that he had nothing but a few vague aches to show for the last several hours of pain.

Shepard snatched his toothbrush off the vanity and brushed his teeth three times, until his mouth felt as clean as the rest of him. Then he shaved meticulously and realized that his scars were entirely gone. He squinted at himself and realized his eyes had cleared as well, they looked almost alive again and the same deep, fierce tropical blue they had always been. He flossed his teeth and clipped his fingernails and found a spent almost ten minutes smoothing seams and measuring cuffs on his freshly laundered uniform. By then the high was wearing off and he was becoming aware of his limitations again.

"Fuck it," he sighed, taking one last look at his perfectly clean, perfectly pressed, perfectly ready for anything image in the mirror.

He teetered over to his bed, heeling out of his boots as he went, and almost killed himself tripping over his own feet as he went down the stairs. One boot still clinging halfway to his foot he collapsed, face first, on the bed. The sheets were clean and cool against his cheek. He twitched his leg, once, and the boot slid the rest of the way off his foot and hit the floor with a thunk.

Shepard closed his eyes and slept the sleep of the truly exhausted, huge and dreamless and black as death.

"Shepard," Aria didn't turn around as her guards deposited him in her presence four hours later, only shoving him a little bit, "I didn't expect to see you again. My sources told me you had gone through the Omega-4 Relay."

"We did," Shepard replied, realigning the seams of his uniform and glaring at her handsy assistants. "Now we're back."

Her troops had shown up the moment the Normandy docked with the Omega asteroid, ready to bash heads if they didn't get what they wanted. Shepard had shaken himself awake after only two hours of sleep and gone with them willingly. He thought he had a handle on Aria, and Aria didn't want to kill him. In fact, he was pretty sure he knew exactly how this conversation was going to go.

"And that is very interesting," Aria's voice was as light and casual as he expected, but her sapphire eyes were hungry when the light hit them, predatory. "Soon everyone in the galaxy is going to want to know what you saw there."

"And I'll tell them," Shepard promised grimly. "I want every man, woman and child in this galaxy to know what happened there before my boots hit Earth again."

"Ah yes, your trial," Aria turned back to the pulsing, gyrating sea of the club floor below and thought for a moment, her delicate fingers perched on her bottom lip. "Maybe we could help each other, Shepard. You tell me what happened, send a little data my way, and I do what I can to see that it's properly distributed."

Shepard gave her a flat, unimpressed look.

"I hope that was a low-ball opening offer and you don't think I'm actually stupid enough to buy it," he said, cocking a brow at her and shaking his head slowly. "I could sell this story on the extranet for half a million credits right now."

Aria turned to face him full on and met his eyes squarely for the first time. She looked annoyed, which was dangerous, but after a moment her frown broke and became a tiny smirk. She brushed his estimate away with one little blue hand, chuckling darkly.

"Hardly half a million," she said, "but I see your point. You can't blame me for trying though, I didn't get rich writing checks." She made a broad gesture with one hand. "Make me an offer then, Shepard."

"My ship needs a few patches," he pulled up his omni-tools and sent her list he'd put together, "and hands to put them in place. Just enough to get me through the relays to Earth."

"Very manageable," Aria said after a cursory examination. "It won't take more than a couple days for me to get these put in place."

"And my crew needs to unwind," Shepard added after a moment, "so throw a night of free drinks in there as well and we've got a deal."

Aria blinked at him, her eyes narrowing.

"What am I getting out of this deal?" She asked suspiciously.

"Video and data files of what we found beyond the Omega-4 Relay, as well as pre-recorded statement made by me explaining it and swearing all of it as truth," Shepard drew up the data files but didn't send them, they hung in the air between them and Shepard could see the hunger in her eyes that had nothing to do with business. Information was more important than money in the Terminus Systems. Much more important.

"And forty-eight hours of silence," she said after a moment, tearing her eyes away from the display. "For forty-eight hours you neither confirm nor deny the validity of any information anyone might question you about."

"For ship repairs and drinks?"

"Yes."

"Deal."

He sent her the data while she arranged for the repairs on his ship. For all the stories of business in the Terminus, it was very clean and bloodless. It almost felt like they should shake on it, but that was of course ridiculous. He nodded at her instead, almost saluted but then he wasn't sure if she would have him shot for it so he decided not to.

"Shepard," she said before he could retreat. She took a step closer to him and raised one hand in an almost lazy gesture, to smooth out a lone wrinkle on the shoulder of his uniform. Her eyes were completely unreadable and Shepard felt like it was best to stand perfectly still and not react at all, the way he would if a venomous snake was crawling on him.

"I can see you haven't taken my advice," she smirked at his raised eyebrow, the only reaction he felt it was safe to allow himself. "I told you to find a nice young thing to keep you warm. You had such a cold look on your face before, I thought maybe you had. But you haven't."

Her teeth showed through her smile.

Shepard didn't move. He certainly hadn't been expecting this part of the conversation. He was really feeling that venomous snake metaphor at the moment.

"Maybe you like a little more experience," Aria speculated. She was looking absolutely ruthless now and Shepard knew he had to pull a smoke bomb out of somewhere, fast. Something clever and witty, he decided, that would improve his reputation as a dashing bad ass.

"I'm gay," he blurted. Terror overrode ego at times like this. "Like, really gay." He paused. "So... not into women."

"I'm not a woman," Aria reminded him, a hint of reproach making itself known around the edges of her voice.

"Yeah, okay, I get it. Monogendered. But you have little narrow shoulders, skinny arms, soft hips and those," he gestured at her breasts with a shudder. "No thank you. You might not be women, but you sure as hell aren't men."

Aria stared at him for a long, hard moment and Shepard thought that he probably should have stopped talking a while ago. After a moment she sighed and dropped her hand.

"Human sexuality is so primitive," she rolled her eyes. "I can't imagine what it's like to have such mundane taste."

"I'd say I was flattered, but 'terrified' is probably more accurate," Shepard grinned. "Why me anyway? I'm just some dumbass in a uniform, you can definitely do better."

"Please," Aria rolled her eyes again and sighed, "do you have any idea how boring sex gets after a few centuries? You're a war hero who became a Spectre and saved the galaxy, got blown apart by Collectors and resurrected by terrorists, fell from grace, became an outlaw, and then finished it off by coming back from the Omega-4. You're interesting, despite your attachment to... whatever you call that." She gestured negligently at his red hair.

"God," Shepard sighed sympathetically, "I can't imagine a time when I would be so bored I'd need that much baggage just to get it up."

Aria laughed involuntarily, her teeth flashing between her painted lips again. Shepard saw that as a good sign, an improvement for his chances of getting out of here alive. He had a sneaking suspicion that people who rejected Aria's advances didn't make out very well on Omega, and he was just smart and humble enough to know that he didn't want to deal with her displeasure at the moment.

"Off you go then," she sniffed, turning her shoulder to him in obvious dismissal. "I've already alerted the bar, none of your crew members will have to pay for drinks tonight."

"Much obliged," Shepard tipped an imaginary hat to her, "and my lips are sealed for the next forty-eight hours."

"Don't keep them sealed too tightly," Aria warned him as he retreated down the steps away from her, "I was serious, Shepard. You need to unwind, repression is coming off of you in waves."

"Right, check, got it," Shepard waved, "ending the conversation now."

He scurried down the steps, tapping at his omni-tool to send a ship wide message to the people onboard the Normandy. And well... since he was already here.

He headed for the bar, but found his way blocked by a sudden flash of tattoos with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and an evil look on her face.

"Are you going to pussy out now that you're sober?" She asked him, one eyebrow arched. She had that look on her face, that jutting jaw and the challenge in her eyes.

"No way," Shepard snatched the bottle and took a pull, tipping the whole thing over his head and letting his throat pump it down. "Let's go now, while people are still catching a little rest before they come here."

"Yeah," Jack cheered and grabbed him by the shoulder, dragging him toward the door, "and you're buying, because Vakarian told me you puked like a little bitch after I left."

"I couldn't help it," Shepard laughed, "my body had to expel that poison before I withered and died."

"Pussy. What are you going to get?" She yanked the hem of his shirt up, checking for pre-existing marks. "So clean and pretty. You should get something really foul, like skull puking up a human heart."

"That sounds like something a serial killer would get," Shepard said dubiously.

"Well yeah. That's why it would be funny."

"I'm going to get a boat," he confided, "I always wanted a boat. Before my life went totally insane my master plan was to buy a boat after I got my pension and live out my retirement on the Caribbean sea. Sunshine and sea water, that was all I ever wanted."

"That sounds fucking boring."

"If I couldn't be here, that's where I would want to be," Shepard shrugged. "Anyway, it's just a reminder really, this isn't the end. No matter what, there's somewhere and someone I want to be that's worth all this fighting."

"You really are a loser," Jack sneered. "You can't even get a tattoo without an inspiring speech to go along with it."

"Sorry, I know it's no heart-vomiting psycho tattoo," he rolled his eyes. "Are we going to do this or are you going to pick on me all day?"

"Don't worry," Jack grinned, "we're going to do both."

Crap in a hat! I can't believe I wrote twenty chapters to this thing. I never expected this to go on for so long, and we still have a whole other game to get through! Kaidan will, of course, feature much more prominently in the Mass Effect 3 story, and we might also get a glimpse of Liara who I just realized hasn't been in this at all yet. Oops.

Thanks to everyone for their support once again! It really brightens my day to see review alerts when I get home!