Disclaimer: Mass Effect is copyright of Bioware. Many of the characters contained herein—Shepard included—are property of Bioware. Shepard is partially of my forging, since I am able to choose many of his reactions to events within the parameters of the game. The sequence of events and their outcomes are property of Bioware. The interpretations of and reactions to the events are largely my own. Ci-Ci is mine. Please do not repost this story or any parts of it herein. Always give credit where it is due. I owe the Mass Effect Wiki a great deal for helping me figure out timelines, details, and other such things that I did not pick up during the game.

I welcome constructive and/or encouraging reviews/critiques. Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

5 May 2185—Mordin Solus's Clinic, Slums, Omega, Sahrabarik System, Omega Nebula

Omega's slums reeked of death, even in the sterile clinic. Plague victims huddled, coughing and shuddering as its effects wracked their bodies. Human medics ran around administering a cure, causing a cacophony of shouts for joy and cries for help.

Shepard kept his hand on his pistol. The slums had been crawling with mercenaries, left to die as the plague ripped through their bodies. Humans and vorcha, for some reason, were the only ones immune to it, which meant that Garrus has to stay on the Normandy. Shepard didn't like it. He didn't trust Miranda or Jacob, so Shepard was even more on edge than normal. He was waiting for something to jump out of the shadows and try and kill him. As usual. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been out without something trying to kill him. Hell, even his parting with Ci-Ci had ended in a fight.

He tightened his grip on his weapon, concentrating on the task at hand. Find the Mordin Solus. Make him help. Leave Omega. Kill Collectors.

Miranda gestured towards the back of the clinic. "Professor Solus should be back there."

They could hear Mordin's mutterings before they even saw him.

"Hmm. Situation destabilizing. Need to resolve. No time. Solution simple. Small dose of… No, would cause lung failure in hanar."

Shepard groaned. If he was going to have to put up that for however long the mission would be, someone was going to die. The Professor sounded like his voice was being fast-forwarded. He'd heard that voice before, though, but from Ci-Ci when she was imitating one of her professors from her days in the salarian school.

Get her out of your head. Concentrate, he thought.

The salarian doctor looked up from his work. He was old, with a missing head tentacle, white skin still barely its original burnt umber at the edges, several scars, and glassy black eyes. "Infected? No, no symptoms. Mercenary? Too well equipped. Not Alliance. Wrong uniforms. Must be Cerberus. Only option. Would explain human companions. Shepard. Must be. Fits Ci-Ci's description. Smitten. Good student. Intelligent. Creative." He frowned. "Naïve. Idealist."

The mention of Corinthia turned Shepard's growl of, "Shut the hell up" into a near gasp of, "You knew her?"

"My student in the old days. Taught science. Genetics. Took my classes. Eager, but no talent for it. Good with computers. Artistic. Sculptor. Painter. Overly childish. Emotional. Bad for a soldier. Worked with STG. Highly successful. Ironic. Skilled. Good sniper."

"Well, she's dead now, so there's no point in dwelling on it."

"Death is a possibility. Yes. But improbable. Ci-Ci is too tricky. Too stubborn. But all theory. No facts. Contemplated brining her back. Science exists, but would need body and funding." Mordin's eyes flicked to Miranda before returning to Shepard. "But you already know, Shepard. Successful reanimation is interesting. Would like to probe your brain and see the effects. Other more important things first, like curing plague. Then find Ci-Ci. Might be in hiding. With quarians? No. Too boring. Would need adventure. Illium. Citadel. Not Omega. Would have found her. Could use her help."

"Shut the fuck up," Shepard ordered, drawing his pistol and pointing it at Mordin. All the thoughts about Corinthia were getting to him and, if they continued, he was likely to start killing the things that triggered the memories.

"Interesting. Expected," Mordin murmured. "Understand her attraction. Strong. Determined. Decisive."

"I'm not here to reminisce. I'm going up against the Collectors. I need your help to make an antidote against their swarms." The Collectors had swarms of insects which stung and paralyzed humans, allowing the hunters to take them away without a fight. Other species weren't picked up by the Collector's sensors and were immune to the toxin, it seemed, since the quarian on Freedom's Progress (the one Tali's team was trying to rescue) managed to elude detection and paralysis.

"Interesting proposition. Would be working with Cerberus. Anti-human. Thugs. Sloppy."

Miranda frowned. "Watch your tongue, professor."

Mordin waved a hand dismissively. "Hollow threat. Need my help. Will help. Provides challenge. But first must help me, yes… Assistant went find survivors. Didn't return. Good assistant. Has cure. Find him and distribute antidote. Then I join you. Continue research."

"I guess I don't have a choice," Shepard muttered.

"Always a choice," Mordin answered. "Can't talk. Must concentrate. Have to fix side effects on turians." The professor turned back to his work, completely ignoring Shepard, Miranda, and Jacob.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Jacob said, "Is it just me, or is that guy insane?"

"No, just brilliant," Miranda answered. "He doesn't think well of Cerberus, though."

"Who does?" Shepard hissed.

"You owe us, Commander."

"Mention that again and I'll put you out an airlock and take the Normandy."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'd like to see you try."

"Don't temp me."

Jacob stepped between them. "Alright, we can discuss the pros and cons of Cerberus later. Let's just sort out this plague, find that assistant, and get out of here before we can't wash it off."

With the antidote distributed and the slums saved, Shepard wanted nothing more than to interrogate Mordin, but they still had one more person to find on Omega: Zaeed Massani. If Shepard had to jump through any hoops…

A terrified looking batarian skidded along the floor and into the wall. Heavy footfalls echoed as Zaeed advanced, assault rifle handing casually in his arms as he took a long draw from a rancid-smelling cigar. Half of his face was marred with scars, turning his eye milky white. Unlike Ci-Ci's visage, which had just had the marks on it, Zaeed's was permanently disfigured, the scars running like canyons. He wore yellow armor, heavily tattooed arm muscles bristling.

"Please…" the batarian panted. "Don't kill me…"

Zaeed raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he slurred, his English accent cruel and drawing. He extinguished his cigar on the batarian's arm. "You owe my employer money. I'm here to collect."

"I… I don't have it. If you give me more time…"

Zaeed didn't flinch as a gun went off. Shepard holstered his smoking pistol and crossed his arms.

"Ah. You must be Shepard," Zaeed murmured. "I wondered if that woman had made you soft."

Shepard reached for his shotgun.

Zaeed smirked. "Maybe not. Well, let me clean up this sorry son of a bitch and we'll leave."

Shepard relaxed a little. "So you've already been paid."

"Damn straight, I have. If I hadn't, we wouldn't be talking. What? You look disappointed."

"I wasn't expecting this to be easy."

"My loyalties lie with money, Shepard." Zaeed pulled out another cigar. "Your boss has that. I won't cross you so long as you keep it coming."

Shepard nodded. "Welcome to the team."

Zaeed picked up the dead batarian and dragged his body towards Afterlife. Shepard jerked his head irately towards the Normandy, not caring if Miranda and Jacob followed him.

"Shepard! You have to report to the Illusive Man!" Miranda called desperately as Shepard stampeded into the elevator.

"Fuck him," Shepard growled. "We have what we came for. Joker!"

"Aye, Commander?"

"The Citadel."

"Sure thing. Want me to check in with Anderson?"

Shepard thought for a long moment. "Yes. I want that Spectre status back."

Miranda pulled Shepard out of the elevator. "You're talking to the Illusive Man whether you like it or not."

Shepard pushed her into the Galaxy Map. "Tell him yourself. I don't give a fuck."

Kelly—whom Shepard had been snapping at to shut up every time she opened her mouth—stepped between them. "Let's all just calm down—"

"Stay out of this," Shepard ordered, shoving her away. "I don't want your peacemaking."

"Commander, the Illusive Man is waiting to speak to you," EDI interrupted. "He wants to hear your report."

Mordin, who had been examining his new work area in the Science Wing, poked his head out. "Can it be? Can't. Should be. Must ask. Is that… AI?"

"Yes, I am," EDI answered. "Commander, your decision?"

"Miranda, you deal with your boss. If you even so much as try and make me talk to him, I'm leaving you on Omega."

"It isn't wise to threaten me, Shepard," Miranda hissed. "You aren't the only one who's been… upgraded." Miranda's biotics flared with her anger.

Shepard laughed cruelly. "Are you fucking serious? Like you'd kill your four billion credit investment. Without Ci-Ci, you don't have anyone left to do your dirty work." He leaned in, eyes murderous. "But I don't need you, bitch, so do what I say when I say if you so much as want my help."

"You don't have a choice, Shepard. Cerberus is the only organization that still believes the Reapers are a threat."

"Who the hell said that this was about Reapers?" Shepard growled.

"So this is all about a girl?" Miranda rolled her eyes. "She would have stopped the Lazarus Project, if she had her way."

"No."

"She spent the last two years hunting down Cerberus Cells. She destroyed five cells and ours was next." Miranda conveniently forgot to mention that the activity had continued after Corinthia's death.

Shepard clenched a fist, his jaw twitching. "Did she know?" he asked softly, his tone so low that he sounded like Death himself.

"Know what?"

"DID SHE KNOW?"

"We don't know how much she knew."

A biotic field manifested around Shepard's fists.

"The Illusive Man will know more. I was only told what I needed to know to avoid having the Project compromised."

Shepard took a deep breath, his biotics still warping around his fingers like plasma. He stomped into the Conference room, waiting impatiently as the table lowered to open the secure holo connection to the Illusive Man.

"Shepard," he started, "good work on Omega. I-"

"Tell me what happened with Ci-Ci."

The Illusive Man stopped. No one interrupted him. "Excuse me?"

"She was hunting you down. Why the hell should I trust you?"

The Illusive Man sighed, tapping ashes off the end of his cigarette. "I had hoped not to have this conversation."

Shepard waited, readying to destroy something.

"As you know, Commander Corinthia was made a Spectre. She was readying to go to Ilos when the Normandy was destroyed. Shortly after the funeral, the Shadow Broker recovered your body to sell to the Collectors. I contacted Corinthia to take the mission to recover you, but she refused. She said that she wanted nothing else to do with you." The Illusive Man waited to see Shepard's reaction. "She may have said something else if I hadn't mentioned that she would be working with Cerberus. Miranda, with the help of Dr. T'Soni, managed to recover your body, regardless, and started the Lazarus Project."

The Illusive Man inhaled his cigarette deeply, giving Shepard a chance to speak. The Commander said nothing and had yet to move, but his biotics had subsided. His stare bore a hole through the wall.

"I never said anything to Corinthia about the Lazarus Project, but T'Soni knew. Shortly after Liara returned to Illium, Corinthia started hunting us. Liara could have talked. I'm sure Corinthia didn't like the idea of us… experimenting on you. She spent the time that she wasn't killing us looking for the Reapers. That got the Collectors angry and they cornered her. A group of Shadow Broker agents destroyed her ship. We never found the body, but she never resurfaced." The Illusive Man waited a beat before adding, "And she never came looking for you, not even for a body to bury."

"You don't know shit," Shepard whispered.

"Now do you understand why I didn't want to tell you?" The Illusive Man leaned forward in his chair. "The worst part is that she had a partner. There was no way that she could have destroyed all our operations on her own. Someone else is still killing us off one by one and they will come for you. You're going to have to be ready."

"Do you expect me to believe that she would just… betray me like that?"

"I didn't think you would immediately, but it's the truth. I can't gain your trust if I lie to you."

"Why did she do it?"

"Betray you or hunt us?"

"Hunt you."

"Revenge, I would imagine, for the events aboard the SSV Geneva. She believed that I was personally responsible for those events. You understand the power of revenge, Commander, and you have been on her side of the fight before."

Shepard needed to think, but he couldn't do it with the Illusive Man breathing down his neck. The story sounded plausible… All except Corinthia refusing to find him. She was an optimist. She brushed off pain. She wasn't like him, who couldn't handle the emotional weight of grief; she was strong. She wouldn't have given up, not if there was a flicker of hope. She just wouldn't...

But he'd changed after hearing about her death. He couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened to her. She had always been a little fragile—or was it just a little naïve? It didn't matter. Losing the only thing you truly care about destroys you from the inside out. He'd seen her angry once before, when he'd tried to keep her on the Normandy instead of taking her groundside. It had only been a flash, when her self-control had snapped, but it was enough. If that fury had taken hold of her, she would've been unstoppable.

"What aren't you telling me?" Shepard asked. He was tensed, ready to kill something. Anything. "Why didn't you retaliate?"

"I didn't know it was her until a few days before she died. Besides, all of our resources were being poured into the Lazarus Project. I was preparing to leak information about your recovery when she was killed."

Shepard's hackles rose. He didn't trust the Illusive Man, but it didn't matter.

"You have your chance for Revenge, Commander. You'll get it by helping us hunt the Reapers."

"Fuck you," Shepard growled, defeated rather than defiant. "If I find out that you lied to me about anything, I am going to find you and tear you limb from limb. Are we clear?"

The Illusive Man smirked. "I wouldn't expect anything less." He ended the transmission before Shepard asked any other questions. Shepard was smart. He would find out the truth of Corinthia's involvement sooner or later, if he chose to look, but Shepard wouldn't be patient enough to take the time to do that research. Corinthia was dead and gone, which was unfortunate only because she had been the key to controlling the Commander.

The Illusive Man finished his cigarette, extinguishing the butt contemplatively. Shepard was going to be a problem. He needed to be controlled. The Illusive Man opened his computer terminals, pulling up all the information he had on Corinthia. He read through her file, her service record, and the official and unofficial reports on her death. When he opened her Spectre file, he noticed something odd: her status had never seen deactivated. Upon their deaths, Spectres were retired and all their rights/privileges were revoked.

How had he missed that before?

After a moment of thought, he lit another cigarette and summoned Liara T'Soni's activities. If anyone knew what had really happened to Corinthia, it would be the asari. If the Illusive Man could deliver Corinthia, he would have Shepard's loyalty for all eternity.

The Illusive Man could only hope that she was alive. If she worked with Shepard, they would clinch the humanity's rightful place in the galaxy.

Any expense was worth that.

Shepard examined Mordin's equipment as the Professor set up shop in the science wing.

"Excellent equipment. Well-funded. Spacious." He inhaled deeply. "Air too dry. Can cause skin flaking. Must compensate. Could alter air filters."

"You said that Ci-Ci isn't dead," Shepard murmured. He looked calm, but his hands were shaking. He let them hang at his sides, not wanting to intimidate the professor.

"Said it was possible. Unlikely. Too skilled to be killed. Wouldn't let herself be cornered after Eden Prime."

"You knew about that?"

"Kept in touch. Favorite student. Friend. Worked with STG with her. Would have made a good salarian. Good Spectre. Resourceful. Creative."

"She never said…"

"You never asked. Often mentioned you. Hormonal reaction to sexual attraction. Called it 'love'." He shook his head. "Unnecessary. Compromising."

"Excuse me?"

"Love causes compromise. Clouding of true goals. Narrow-mindedness. Restricts possibilities and outcomes."

"Is she alive or not?"

"Don't know. Scenarios possible for both outcomes. Council declared her dead. Took too long. Three months. Abnormal. Disconcerting."

Shepard's heart raced. He hadn't dared to hope, but now… He didn't know what to think. Mordin was probably just a crazy old man, but he was clearly a genius. Besides, the salarian reminded Shepard of her, in a way—or, at least, of when she was hyper and had just gotten a new omni-tool or program to play with.

Mordin opened his omni-tool. "Will give you our communications. Nothing confidential. Might be useful. Might not be. Can't say. Too many variables. No control." He narrowed his eyes, looking Shepard up and down. "Must observe. Gather data. Can't come to conclusions yet."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Reactions so far have been brash. Ruthless. Appropriate for Spectres. Saved my assistant. Said you let his captors go. Unexpected. Did not match initial observations. Must form new hypothesis. Yes. Could use brain scan. No, would aggravate biotic implants."

Now Shepard was staring to get annoyed. "Don't blow up the ship, Professor. And… thanks."

Mordin nodded. "Will start research on Collector swarms. Have much work to do." When Shepard was gone, Mordin shook his head. "Baffling. Must research human love. Need answers. Need to understand."