A/N 12/27/2012: Thanks to GoogleFloobs for thetaing (Check out his story)! Again, this story is currently under revision, so please excuse any inconsistencies. A full plan of my revisions is avail in Chp. 59, Author's Explanatory Note: An Update.

Disclaimer: Mass Effect is copyright of Bioware. Ci-Ci is mine.

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Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

14 June 2183—Comm Room, SSV Normandy, en route to the Citadel

The galaxy is dying, flaking away like ash in the breeze. Slowly, at first, until the hurricane hits. The Reapers — the ships, machines, creatures, monsters, gods that lurk in dark space, waiting to consume every world.

The pain starts slowly, a simple throb in time with your pulse. Then, when the fear hits, it quickens and crescendos to an unbearable screeching tattoo. Inescapable. Your mind is threatening to shatter at the sound. It saps your strength, your resolve, your hope... There is nothing left but your own death. Your fear. Your doom. Your death.

The Reapers have voices. Their arms open, revealing their red glowing eyes, and a deep, dissonant, metallic noice that reverberates in every part of your body, raking down your spine, chilling you to the bone, and freezing you in place. It is their call, their one warning that they are there, and that there is nothing you can do to escape.

You cannot fight this. Your end will come, no matter what you do. Resistance is futile. Roll over and die. Let your death be fast, simple, and relatively painless.

But you will quake. You will know that you have been defeated. You will know that you are not the greatest thing in this galaxy. You have no power. You have no influence. You have nothing.

We are the Reapers. We are your demise.

Do not run. There is nowhere you can hide. If they could not before you, you cannot now.

We are the Reapers. Know us. Fear us.

…. The image breaks, but only for a second, just to whisper one last message:

You must fight.

Shepard stared at the floor, hating that he had to relive that. Again. Every fucking time something happened with that goddamn vision, Liara was there to drag it out. At least this time he managed to keep Corinthia out of it. That cipher, whatever it was, had actually helped.

After fighting through the "creepy-plant-zombies" (as Corinthia called them) — the brain-washed and drained husks created by the thorian — Shepard had mercilessly destroyed the thorian. The creature, which was older than the Protheans, had consumed things into itself, used its spores to control their minds and wills, and then spat clones back out. Specifically, of an asari in Matriarch Benezia's service.

Because the thorian was so old, it could understand the Protheans. The asari had learned that secret and passed it along to Saren and, in thanks for freeing her from the thorian, given it to Shepard. As loathe as he was to spare the asari, he had at Corinthia's behest; she was convinced that the asari was only acting "under the influence" of both Saren and the thorian. With the thorian dead, rather violently in a multi-grenade induced blast, hopefully the asari's loyalty wouldn't sway.

"Besides, you have this way of making people loyal to you. I think it's the scowl," Corinthia had teased.

Still, joining minds with two asari within six hours was not Shepard's idea of fun. Reliving that vision again and again, feeling that chill run through his spine... Shepard hated fear, especially in himself.

This time, though, he could hear the Reapers. Their calls — or whatever the hell they were — had mixed in with the Prothean screaming so well that he hadn't been able to tell them apart. But that cacophonous noise had put fear into him.

Then that last whisper... It was a quiet voice, like that of a dying man. The final cry of a dying race, begging for help. No, not help; to be remembered. To leave something behind to give the next victims hope.

The Reapers were coming back. There was nothing Shepard could do to stop that. They asked for submission since there was no way any species could overcome such utter destruction.

As he stared, his crew sitting around him waiting for him to explain why Liara was shivering and pale with fear after only a few seconds of having her mind connected to his, Shepard slowly began to understand why Saren had left the Spectres: to see if the Reapers were real.

Based on Saren's actions, they had to be. He had taken a geth ship and was using it to start that destruction. Paving the way. Or was he trying to save the galaxy? No, that wasn't possible. If that were true, he wouldn't have attacked Eden Prime. Or, maybe, Saren was trying to help... Did he know something Shepard didn't? The turian had to. But what?

Corinthia got to her feet and hugged Liara. "That bad, huh?" Corinthia murmured.

Liara nodded, shakily stepping away from her friend. "Yes, it was terrifying... But I understand, now. The Protheans were warning us of what caused their destruction."

Garrus tapped one of his mandibles. "So, it's going to happen again?"

"Well, that sucks," Williams muttered, resting her elbows on her knees.

"How do the geth play in?" Tali asked, both curious and fearful.

"What is Saren even after?" Alenko added.

"Can someone just tell me what to kill?" Wrex growled. "Because the geth don't bleed enough."

"How does my mother play into this? What is she doing with Saren, of all people?" Liara whispered.

Shepard closed his eyes, trying to keep their questions out of his head. He didn't know the answers. He didn't need them thinking right then because he couldn't. That vision... It was destroying him, slowly, at a mental level. To be told that he was not the best, that he could be defeated... And to hear it from a voice that paralyzed him on the spot...

"Shep, what's going on?" Corinthia said, leaving Liara to stand in front of him. "What are we supposed to do?"

"Will everyone just SHUT UP?!" he shouted, surging to his feet. His biotics flared around his fists, throwing Corinthia and Liara across the room and into Alenko, Wrex, and Williams. He sucked in air, not caring that he'd probably hurt the women — that he'd hurt Corinthia.

Everyone exchanged looks. Corinthia extracted herself from Alenko's lap. "Crew dismissed," she said quietly.

No one was going to argue. They left without another word, exchanging dark glances. If Shepard was going to become like Saren...

Corinthia locked the door and ran her fingers through her hair. She had a thousand questions to ask him, but she wasn't going to say any of them. If he needed silence, she would give it. So, she sat down across from him, eyes fixed on the cold floor. It had been cleaned recently; she could see her reflection in it. Wrex had left a muddy trail behind him, since he wasn't the sort to wipe his feet off when he came onto a ship.

Shepard paced, his mind in complete turmoil. Saren, the vision, the Reapers... Everything was turning into a psychotic whirlwind that would drive anyone insane. No wonder why Saren snapped...

After almost ten minutes, Corinthia's hand found his. "John, take a deep breath," she murmured, giving him a calm smile. She was leaning forward in her chair, catching him as he passed.

He didn't look at her, but he did as she asked. His fingers tightened a little on hers, taking what comfort he could. If she hadn't been assigned there, if she had rejected him, if he'd lost her friendship... He didn't want to think about that. The fact was that he had her and he was not going to begin to imagine otherwise.

"I'm not going insane, am I, Cassie?" he asked quietly.

She stood up, carefully looking him over. Her lips widened into a playful grin. "Well, of the two of us, I'd say I'm far crazier than you'll ever be," she concluded.

"No jokes," he added darkly, gripping her hands and making her look into his eyes. All he wanted was for her to understand just how serious he was, how badly he was affected. "I'm seeing things. That vision won't leave me alone. Every time, it gets worse... This time... Now there's a voice to go along with the night —"

His words were cut off when Corinthia kissed him, more fiercely than she ever had. She had his face in her hands and was practically dragging him down to her height. His eyes were wide open and he could barely even enjoy it, he was in such shock. Corithia, aggressive? That didn't happen, but he sure as hell was going to enjoy it. Any kind of confidence in their romantic relations was rare, as she was still convinced that she was not a good kisser or knew what she was doing. He informed her that practice makes perfect and had gladly supplied as much as she wanted. If she stayed confident like this, though, he was going to enjoy it much, much more.

"Don't be silly," she whispered hoarsely, dragging her lips away from his far sooner than he wanted. "You're not insane. And even if you are, I don't care." She had to stop herself from saying, 'Even if you are, I'll still love you'. It was far too soon for that and, even if Corinthia believed that Williams had a point that Shepard wouldn't be anywhere near Corinthia without feelings of that magnitude, Corinthia wasn't going to add another problem to Shepard's list. If it was a problem. More to the point, it was just bad timing.

Shepard tightly wrapped his arms around her shoulders, burying his face in her neck. She held him, wondering for half a moment if he was going to cry, but then he was kissing her throat, his fingers digging into her back as his fervent caresses moved up her jaw and to her lips. He needed her — all of her — because he was convinced that she was going to be taken away from him like she was in every last nightmare he had.

"John!" she protested, pushing him away before his tongue slipped into her mouth. "Have you lost it?! There are cameras in here!" Her cheeks were flushed and he knew that she'd loved every second of it (he knew what spots to hit).

Shepard glanced at the ceiling, imagining Joker's commentary ("Aw, snap! The Commander and Ci-Ci?! Let me get some popcorn. This is going to be good"), shrugged, and went back to Corinthia. "Fuck it. I don't care."

She avoided his lips as he leaned towards her. "Well, I do."

"You're the one that just assaulted me," he retorted, not particularly in the mood for games.

"You needed it. And if you want me that badly, let's just go to your quarters."

Although he was positive she had no idea what she was offering, Shepard's heart raced at the suggestion. "Cassie, don't tease me. Don't say something like that and just expect me to be alright with it when you change your mind."

Her cheeks flushed. "I..." She had known what she'd said, even if part of her had hoped he would overlook the comment. Of course, he wouldn't. Not in that moment. He was feeling vulnerable and she was his safety blanket. "Can we talk about this somewhere else?"

He wanted to grit his teeth and demand an answer, but if she needed time to think, he couldn't push. He wanted to, more than ever before, but he wouldn't do it. Beyond her lack of experience — which she was quickly overcoming, in his opinion — there wasn't any good reason for her to stay chaste. She knew better than anyone that he wasn't the type to be content with only holding hands. Not that they even really had a chance to do that.

"Yeah," he replied. "My quarters."

She smiled, reassured, but the underlying layer of nervousness only seemed to tense. Shepard knew she was overthinking things. She always did. It meant that it was important to her and that she cared, but she was supposed to be comfortable with him, not afraid.

When the door to his room closed behind them, Corinthia sheepishly shuffled his feet. "I'm sorry, I'm not ready," she whispered.

He had expected that answer. "Alright," was all he said in return.

She blinked. "So... That's it?"

"That's it." He'd be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed, but it was better to have some of her than risk losing all of her over something so simple like sex. They'd get there, eventually, he reassured himself, and she had to be ready or else he wouldn't even enjoy it.

She grinned gratefully and hugged him. "Thank you... Do I need to explain why?"

"No." He didn't want to know. Then he could argue back.

"Commander, I have the Council," Joker radioed.

"Damn it, Joker, do I have to put you on mute?" Shepard answered.

"Uh... Maybe? Want me to tell them to go away?"

"No, no, I'll take the call," Shepard answered. "Just patch it through in here."

"Yessir."

Corinthia shifted so that she would be out of view.

The Council appeared on Shepard's console. The Asari Councilor was almost smiling. "Commander, you're to be commended. We heard how you treated the colon—Where is your common decency?!" she demanded as Shepard stripped off his shirt.

"I'm exhausted and don't have time for your bullshit," he growled. "I did what I thought was right and I don't give a damn about your approval. The more you bother me, the farther ahead of me Saren gets. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get some sleep so that I can do my goddamn job. Shepard out." He cut the transmission before the Council could say anything else.

Corinthia raised an eyebrow. "Annoyed much?"

"Just a little," he replied. "Are you staying here tonight?"

"I've gotten the impression lately that you can't exactly sleep without me."

She had a point: He had come and found her two out of three nights for the last few weeks. If the crew didn't know they were together in some manner, they knew now. Discretion never had been his strong suit. For all he could tell, most of the crew seemed pleased with the fact that he was with Corinthia. He was, at least, a bit more relaxed and laid back than before. Less snippy, as Corinthia put it.

Shepard felt a little ashamed that he needed her like he did, but he was still adjusting to the fact that he would always be a bit vulnerable around her. It was aggravating and refreshing, to have someone he trusted so intimately.

"Is that a problem?" he asked.

"No." She sat on the bed, kicking off her boots. "It's just unnerving sometimes how... desperate you can seem. Kissing me and all. I'm not going to disappear, you know." She ran her fingers through her hair and then flicked it back into place.

"That's what you think," he muttered, joining her.

She blushed and averted her eyes. Whenever he looked at her with any kind of intensity, she couldn't keep his gaze. She smoothed her bangs over her scars.

"Stop that."

"What?"

"Hiding half of your face." He brushed her hair away, fingers lingering on her skin.

"I don't like them."

"They're not that bad."

"Doesn't matter."

"What do you want me to do? Kiss them?"

"If it'll make them better."

He put his lips against her temple and his hand drifted down to caress the skin of her throat. He hated and loved the scars — hated them because it meant she'd been hurt and he hadn't been able to stop it; loved them because they were reminders that she was stronger than she seemed, that she could survive as well as he could, and that he had had to cherish what time they had together because the next scar could be the killing blow. They were not immortal, despite what the Alliance seemed to think.

Her eyes closed and she moved so that he could lean over her and gently kiss the river-like scars on the other side of her face. Her hands rested on his chest and slid around to his back. For all her shyness, she was quickly overcoming her hesitance as she became accustomed to the fact that he was genuinely happy to guide her through every physicality. That he enjoyed her innocence and lack of experience, even if it was only because it gave him a greater sense of possession. She had only ever been his and, perhaps, would only ever be his.

Shepard stopped before he began attending to her neck. "Better?" he asked, trying not to smirk.

"I'm not convinced yet, but you're starting to sway me," she answered, grinning. Her cheeks were barely flushed and the tone in her voice implied that she very much wished he hadn't stopped.

His fingers idly stroked along the skin of her throat. Their uniforms were too high collared for him to even attempt to touch her shoulders and he knew she wouldn't be keen on taking off her shirt (or, more to the point, letting him remove it for her). He was searching for words, since he knew she needed to hear things rather than be shown them.

She cocked her head to one side. "John?" she said once he'd been quiet for almost a minute.

He blinked, snapping out of his reverie. His attempt to think of a compliment for her had turned into other rather more passionate images.

"Sorry, Cassie. Just getting... distracted."

She frowned. "The nightmare again?"

"No. You."

Her eyes widened slightly when she realized what he was thinking. "Uh..."

"What?" he replied. "I care about you. I want you, but I already said that I'll wait until you're ready, so I will. It's just sex."

She frowned, although she looked like she wanted to smile. "Well, thanks for that, but I don't see it that way..."

He shrugged, stripping his pants before getting under the covers. "Stop thinking and come to bed."

She went and turned off the lights before she, too, undressed (mostly — She remained in her undershirt, bra, and underwear) and crawled under the sheets. As she settled against his side, she put a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I'm sorry."

He groaned. "Stop apologizing, too."

"Okay. Sorry. Sorry!" She grunted in frustration and flipped onto her back. "Damn it, I'll never get that right..."

Shepard chuckled, leaning over her. Whatever poor feelings he'd had from the vision had dissipated. "And stop worrying." He captured her lips with his for a languid moment. He was going to add something about how he understood that she'd have to learn, but with how she was kissing him back... Yeah, talking was not going to be on the agenda for a while.

24 June 2183—Liara's Office, SSV Normandy, orbiting Luna, Earth, Sol System

Corinthia clenched a fist. "Cerberus..."

Williams raised an eyebrow, not turning her attention away from the vid message her little sister had left. Williams didn't like Cerberus very much, but she had, at least, moved on after the missions in the Voyager Cluster. Corinthia couldn't let go and was determined to... something. Williams had stopped listening to the technical jargon and inane mutterings about three hours before. With Shepard, Garrus, Alenko, Wrex, and Tali down on Luna chasing after some rogue VI, Williams was left with T'Soni, Joker, and Corinthia for company. Joker was babbling on about being "worried about his baby" (the Normandy) and T'Soni was just downright creepy in Williams's eyes, so that left her to either sit in the cargo hold on her own (boring) or hang out with Corinthia and, at least, be somewhat amused by whatever random nonsense came out of the Lieutenant Commander's mouth.

"What is it this time?" Williams asked a couple minutes later, shutting off the vid message.

Corinthia waved her omni-tool, the screens before her showing several images of Prothean beacons. "Apparently the one on Eden Prime isn't the only one," Corinthia started.

Williams squinted at the pictures. The resolution was blurred in most of them, with the date stamps from as far back as the First Contact War. "Are those turians in there?"

"Yep," Corinthia replied.

"Saren?"

"I can't ID any of them, but it's possible." Corinthia slumped in her seat. "If Cerberus is mixed up in this, too..."

Williams frowned. "Don't go there, Ci-Ci. We have enough to worry about without getting pulled into chasing down a ghost organization."

Corinthia cocked her head to one side. "Oh, yeah. Right. Forgot... I get so worried sometimes that... Yeah, sorry..." She shut off the monitors and rubbed her eyes. "I'm going to get him court marshalled, aren't I?"

"For what?"

"Side-tracking."

Williams rolled her eyes. "Stop worrying about it. If they didn't do anything about Torfan, they're sure as hell not going to do anything about him getting rid of a thorn in their side. Yeah, it's not Saren, but it's not the end of the world."

"Alright..." Corinthia shuffled her feet. "How... bad is it that we're... you know..."

"Bad? Personally, I think it's cute. The man actually looks happy." Williams smirked. "I still can't believe you two aren't sleeping together."

Corinthia's cheeks flushed as she remembered how... frustrated Shepard had been lately, especially since he had to be the one to call things off because he knew damn well that she wouldn't until it was too late. It didn't help that she was determined that their first night together would be romantic, not on a warship, and somewhere that the Alliance wouldn't be breathing down their necks (or Joker waiting to eavesdrop, for that matter). Of course, they might never get that chance, but they could at least wait until after Saren was dealt with before crossing that bridge. Besides, it was too soon in her mind. Yes, things were moving quickly and they already had so many years of a relationship behind that that they weren't doing the usual get-to-know-you dance, but she was still trying to adjust to the fact that anyone would want her in that manner, especially him. Considering his past encounters with women, he never would have started to dream that his taste in romantic company (of any form) encompassed her.

"Heh, yeah, well, there's enough drama around," Corinthia muttered sheepishly, focusing on her omni-tool. She almost drew up the Cerberus information again, but she had decided to let that rest. She would tell Shepard when he got back that she was finished. Wait, maybe not. He had enough to worry about without her own little personal missions.

Williams nodded. "Yeah, we've got plenty going around. I still can't tell if this ship is Alliance or Council."

"Both. I'm not even sure whose order override whose because there hasn't been a Spectre in the Alliance before..." Corinthia frowned. "Maybe I should look up some of that regulation and get it sorted."

"'Get it sorted'?" Williams repeated, snorting. "That sounds so pompus..."

"What else should I say?"

"I don't know. 'Suggest new regulations'?"

"Booooring."

"You'd say that."

"Yeppers." Corinthia grinned stupidly.

"Ma'am, I have a suggestion."

"...'Ma'am'?"

"Yeah, ma'am. Get. Some. Sleep."

Corinthia groaned and got to her feet. "Alright, alright... I'm going."

"Ci-Ci, you there?" Joker radioed.

"Yeah," she replied. She dramatically rolled her eyes, making Williams snicker. "I'll just come to the bridge. I'm bored of yelling at you through the ceiling."

"About damn time I get some personal attention around here," Joker answered, flicking his fingers through one of the interfaces. The pilot was immobile, for all intents and purposes, and to date everyone was hanging out in the cargo bay and he wasn't invited. Still, snooping on the Commander stealing kisses and gropes from Corinthia was pretty entertaining, especially when Joker actually had something to tell them. Her expressions at the interruptions were priceless.

He winced when she flicked his ear.

"Hey, watch it!" he warned. "I'm fragile!"

"Oh, so I'd knick your ear off?" Corinthia teased. "Poor baby. I'll just have to pinch your cheeks to make it better."

Joker fended off her hand. "Okay, that's going too far."

"You started it. So, what's up?"

Joker was a little disappointed that she'd go back to business so quickly, but her eyes were bloodshot and he kew that he hadn't seen her sleep once. Except she might have during the fice or so naps he took, in addition to his regular sleeping hours.

"We've got a distress call from some random-ass planet called Virmire," he began. "I'm not even sure how we've managed to pick it up this far out."

"Who sent it?"

"STG. They mentioned you by name, and then the Council, and then just anyone that would listen, really."

"And then why'd you call me up here? You know that Shep's getting sick and tired of errands."

"Even though he's doing one now?"

"Yeah, tell me about it..." Corinthia rubbed her eyes. "Who transmitted the message?"

"Uh... Kirrahe," Joker replied, checking something. "Want me to play it?"

"Yeah, go for it."

Joker hit a button, the distress call echoing down the area. It was garbled and difficult to understand, cut in-and-out because of massive amounts of interference.

Corinthia frowned. "So, if I heard that right, they're deployed on Spectre business and need help."

"Basically," Joker answered. "And, uh, was it just me or did you hear him say 'Saren'?"

She opened her omni-tool, getting a verbatim dictation of the message. "I don't think so, but you know what? Why don't we just... pretend that he did."

"You're going to lie to the Commander?" Joker blinked in surprise. "Didn't think you'd lie to your boyfriend like that."

"I know Kirrahe. He wouldn't ask for help unless he damn well needed the best he could get. And he asked for me, which means he's getting Shepard, too, and we therefore must have a valid excuse. So, if Saren might be there, Shepard can go take a look."

"You are one tricky woman," Joker observed, rather amazed.

"Thanks. I try." Corinthia grinned, but her attention was focused on finding anything from Virmire that she could.

Joker leaned back, looking out at Luna. A few parts of the base lit up, as if exploding. "That looks like the Commander's work."

Corinthia glanced up at the scene. "Maybe. Get him on the comm."

"I'm not a radio man."

Corinthia laughed. "And who's the one we ALWAYS talk to?"

"Alright, alright, you have a point." Joker opened a new interface, showing the feed from Shepard's helmet. Sure enough, the explosions had been caused by him. By the looks of the area, he was now cleaning up after whatever slaughter he had incurred. "Commander, I've got Ci-Ci for you."

"Patch her through," Shepard answered.

"Oi, we've got a situation," she said. "And it isn't a party you're missing. The STG sent out a distress call from Virmire. Whatever it is, it's bad. The message is a little unclear, but Kirrahe might've said something about Saren."

"I'm kinda in the middle of something."

"Yeah, I can see your feed." Corinthia examined the picture closely. "Oh, right, there are still things alive. That means you're not done."

"Basically, yes." Several things exploded on the screen. "So, start over."

"The STG sent a distress signal from a planet called Virmire. They don't do that unless they're royally screwed over. And they may have said something about Saren."

"Get the coordinates ready. We'll be back in an hour."