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

I welcome constructive and/or encouraging reviews/critiques. Please leave feedback!

Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

31 December 2170 — New York City, United North American States, Earth, Sol System

Shepard cracked his neck and wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve. Stevie got to his feet, straightened his suit jacket, passed the broken window (which had been the demise of Hawk's thugs), and stood over Hawk. The Boss grabbed Stevie's ankles. "Please... Please..."

Stevie grimaced and kicked the man in the face. "Now do you understand who you're dealing with?"

"Y... Yes..."

Stevie nodded to Shepard. The teenager grabbed Hawk's collar and pulled him to his feet. Stevie took out a knife, toying with it casually. "So, you give me all your assets, all your operations. You declare me your right-hand man. You arrange to merge with the Xzars within the next six months. Cross me and I'll have Johnny do to you what he did to your thugs."

Biotic fields flared around Shepard's hands.

"Do we have an understanding?" Stevie hissed.

"Yeah," Hawk gulped. "Yeah. We've got one. Just don't... don't let him near me, please!" He gave Shepard a panicked and terrified look.

Stevie laughed. "You hear that, Johnny? He doesn't want you anywhere near him."

Shepard's expression didn't change. He had literally torn two men in half and he didn't feel anything but numb about it. Actually, he'd rather enjoyed it.

"Alright, Johnny, give him something to scream about."

Shepard nodded, dragged Hawk to the hole in the window, and thrust him out into the open air. Hawk screeched and clawed at Shepard's wrist, half-trying to loose the grip on his throat and half-trying to hold on for dear life.

"Do we have a deal?" Stevie asked.

"YES!" Hawk screamed.

"Good. Drop him."

Shepard let go, watching emotionlessly as Hawk dropped to his death. Stevie put a hand on Shepard's shoulder. "You've done well, Johnny. How about a celebration?"

Shepard stepped away from the window when Stevie didn't immediately loose his grip. Shepard may have looked up to Stevie, but that didn't mean he trusted the man. After all, part of Shepard wanted to escape the Reds, join the Alliance, get away... but Stevie had forced that side into repression out of necessity.

Stevie's eyes glinted dangerously. "What is it, Johnny? Afraid of heights?"

"Does Tompkins know about this?" Shepard asked coldly. Tompkins was the leader of the Reds, and therefore one of the most xenophobic and violent men on the planet.

"Of course," Stevie lied, still smiling. His grip tightened on Shepard's shoulder.

"Thinking of pushing me out?" Shepard growled.

"You're too useful for that, Johnny, but it's you I'm wondering about."

"I've had more than enough of a chance to do it."

Stevie laughed and released him. "You really are the most dangerous man in the Reds, aren't you?"

Shepard just stared him down, bristling.

"Don't worry. You're too useful for me to get rid of. Even Tompkins knows how good you are. You aren't going anywhere. You've got leadership written all over you."

"No," Shepard hissed. "I stay where I am."

"A good choice, my friend. Being in the way isn't somewhere you want to be for the next year."

Shepard nodded. He had a bad feeling about what was going to happen.

2 October 2171 — Los Angeles, United North American States

Shepard cracked his knuckles nervously. Stevie adjusted his cuffs and checked his pistol. "Alright, Johnny. Just keep to the plan."

Shepard nodded, though he wasn't sure that he wanted to go through with it. Stevie was about to stage a coup on the Reds. The only men Shepard had even half-way considered friends were going to be getting in his way. Shepard was going to have to kill them if they resisted too much. Shepard wasn't going to enjoy this. He needed to separate himself. He'd never been good at it, but now was probably going to be his best opportunity to learn.

The plan was simple: go in, kill the Boss, walk out, kill anyone who resisted.

"You know, you're going to be the second most powerful man in the country after this," Stevie said, putting his hand on Shepard's shoulder.

Shepard didn't answer. He was still trying to figure out how he could go through with it all. He didn't feel any particular loyalty to the Reds, sure — Hell, he'd been planning to leave them until Stevie recruited him — but he had his qualms about taking over. It just didn't seem right... Not that the Reds ever cared about that. They just did what they wanted, regardless of whether it was wrong or right.

The Reds had their base in the newer part of the city. Since Los Angeles, like most cities on Earth, had spread as far as possible in either direction (meaning all the way to the coast and meeting the new borders of Las Vegas), the city was now a conglomerate of the various other places it had absorbed over the years. The Reds had bought a building in the old downtown of Los Angeles. It didn't look like much on the outside, but Stevie had fixed it up on the inside. His apartment was on the fiftieth floor. Shepard was about to storm his own castle and it wasn't going to be pretty.

He checked his own pistol. He wasn't used to carrying a weapon. He knew how to use it well enough, since his biotic abilities had only manifested a few years before, but this time guns would be killing people he knew, not faceless thugs. He had a set of concussive rounds in his pocket for when things turned nasty, as they were like to do.

Stevie activated the controls for the main door and stepped inside. Shepard followed Stevie, feeling like everyone was staring at them (which they weren't) and knew exactly what was about to happen (which they didn't). Stevie headed straight for the elevators. "Wait here, Johnny," he ordered.

Shepard slouched towards a wall and leaned against it, watching everyone and trying to keep his hand off his pistol. Some of the guys he'd run with passed him, grinning and waving like the idiots they were. For a moment, Shepard regretted letting Stevie talk him into being his second. Those guys, as dumb as they were, didn't do anything that they would regret. Xenophobic? Sure, a little bit, but they didn't shoot turians in the hiead for looking them in the eye like Stevie did. These guys would fight back... and they wouldn't win.

Two hours later...

Shepard lowered his gun. There were fewer bodies than he'd predicted, but he'd personally had to kill... No, he wouldn't think about it. People had resisted and they had died. He'd followed orders and they hadn't.

Stevie was on the other side of the room, grinning maniacally as he shot the already dead body of a fifteen-year-old who had chosen to run rather than fight. The pistol jammed. Stevie cursed, unjammed it, waited for it to cool, and continued shooting.

"Everyone's dead," Shepard shouted, making it clear that the fight was over. "You won."

Stevie didn't take his finger off the trigger until the gun jammed again. He toosed the weapon aside before taking out a handkerchief and wiping blood from his suit. "Well, Johnny, looks like you and I are in charge of the Reds now."

Shepard shook his head indistinctly. "No. You're in charge. I'm just a thug."

Stevie grinned and clapped Shepard on the shoulder. "Good man, Johnny."

Shepard gave the bodies one last look. Maybe he was numb about them dying, but whatever feeling he'd had from killing them was rapidly subsiding. Remorse was something he couldn't feel, especially because he already knew his next course of action: leave the Reds. Stevie wasn't his friend; he was a monster. Though he knew what he was doing, his plans for the Reds were going to be anything but beneficial to anyone but Stevie and, maybe, humanity, assuming they agreed with him.

The worst part of it all was that Shepard still couldn't shake the impression that Stevie was his friend. After all, he'd taken Shepard in, taught him everything he knew... So they didn't agree, and Shepard wasn't going to let himself become Stevie.

The doors burst open and soldiers stormed in. Shepard glanced around, biotics flaring dangerously.

"What the fuck?" Stevie demanded.

"Agent Thompson," a man said, holding up a badge. He glanced around. "Who did all of this?"

Stevie stepped up behind Shepard. "What's it matter?"

"I did," Shepard growled.

Thompson glanced at Shepard's hands. "I suggest you drop that mass effect field now, son, before you get yourself into trouble. You come with us now and we forget that we saw anything here."

Stevie pushed Shepard forward. "Sounds like a deal. See you around, Johnny."

Shepard spun on Stevie, confused.

"Don't worry, kid, it's just implants. Trust me, you think your biotics are good now? This will look like finger-painting in comparison." Thompson dragged Shepard away, the soldiers leaving with him.

11 April 2172 — Tenth Stree Red's Headquarters, Los Angeles

Shepard stepped through the doors, his head pounding like a kettle drum. He fingered the new scars behind his ears — the sign that he'd been given implants. Every so often, he got wickedly terrible headaches, but they really only happened when he hadn't used his biotics in too long.

Stevie came out of the elevator. "Johnny! You've been keeping to yourself lately."

After the coup and implant procedure, Shepard had withdrawn to rethink his priorities. Though still part of the Reds, he knew it wasn't his destiny or where he wanted to be. He'd spent the last week getting up the courage to leave them.

Today, though, he was eighteen. He was free.

Stevie clapped Shepard on the shoulder. "What have you been up to, my friend?"

"You sure you want to know?" Shepard murmured.

A chill ran up Stevie's spine. He had never, ever heard Shepard sound so dangerous, let alone directed at him. Stevie barely had an inkling of what would happen next before he was flying through the air, smashed against the ceiling and floor until he was nothing better than a rag doll.

Shepard flicked Stevie's body aside and into a trash compactor. The Reds stared at him in shock, mouths agape. Shepard didn't give them a second glance as he pulled up his hood and walked out of the building, leaving the Reds behind forever.

The Present — 8 September 2185 — Shepard's Quarters, SSV Normandy SR-2, en route to Omega

Shepard wearily trudged into his room, noting that the lights didn't turn on. That meant that Corinthia was asleep. Sure enough, she was a lump on the bed, Rufus curled up at her feet. The varren raised his head when Shepard came in, wagged his whip-like tail briefly, and went back to sleep.

The Commander removed his armor, showered, and sat down to write his report. Honestly, there wasn't much to say. Zaeed fucked it up, people didn't die. The end. Still, the Illusive Man had to know every goddamn thing that happened to Shepard... In comparison, Corinthia looked like the most disinterested girlfriend in the galaxy, and she knew just about everything that happened in his day-to-day life.

After an hour of staring at the screen and not writing a word, Shepard felt something heavy rest on his knees. He sighed. "Not now, Rufus."

The varren stared at him with wide, glassy eyes, wagging its tail.

"I don't have any food."

Rufus's eyes widened even more pitifully.

"What the hell do you want? Why the hell did I let Ci-Ci keep you?"

Rufus whined and went to scratch at the bathroom door.

"You've got to be kidding me..."

"He's just trying to herd you into bed," Corinthia mumbled, her voice muffled by her pillows.

Shepard got to his feet, shut off his monitor, and stretched before wandering to bed. He felt guilty sleeping next to her, to the point that he didn't even take off his shirt when he got into bed.

"Any cuts, bruises, fractures, or breaks?" she murmured.

"No..."

"Good." She rolled over and snuggled against him. "Thanks for coming back alive."

He hesitated before touching her cheek. "Yeah..."

She opened one eye. "Are you alright?"

"Not really."

"Do I need to be awake for this conversation?"

"There isn't going to be a conversation." He gently removed her grasp and rolled on his side so his back would be to her.

She sat up, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"Just go back to sleep."

She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, stretched, and slapped his shoulder. "I'm awake now, so tell me what's bothering you."

"I don't want you to know," he hissed.

She raised an eyebrow. "Okay... Will you at least tell me if it's my fault?"

"No, it isn't in any capacity."

"So why are you pouting?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

She hung her head. "I"m sorry, John, but you need to tell me."

"Like hell I do..."

"I'm your wi — girlfriend. Don't you trust me?"

He flipped onto his back and covered his face with this hands. There was no way he was getting out of this without making her yell at him. "I do trust you, Cassie."

She crossed her legs and arms, glaring down at him.

"You once promised me never to ask about my past," he murmured.

She blinked. "Really? I don't remember that at all..."

"On Akuze."

"And before we went to the Flotilla you told me that you'd tell me anything I wanted to know."

He winced. "I did, didn't I?"

She cocked her head to one side. "Is it really that bad?"

He nodded slowly.

"Enough that you truly believe I'd hate you for it?"

"You wouldn't have a choice."

"Try me."

"Cassie..."

"John," she snapped. "Do you remember how quickly I stopped being angry at you after Torfan? That I was there for. I knew the people that died. I don't think you could get much worse."

He sat up and swung his legs out of the bed. "Just... If I tell you, I keep thinking that you'll leave..."

"Again, I remind you of all the shit we've been through together and all the times I could've downgraded to someone else with a less colorful past."

He raised an eyebrow. "Downgraded?"

"Yes, downgraded," she repeated. "Nothing you can say will surprise me."

He glanced at her. "You looked up my record, didn't you?"

She blushed. "Ages ago."

"All of it?"

"Everything I could find."

"When?"

"After Akuze. I mean, I liked you... My friends told me to find out everything I could."

"Which friends would tell you to stalk someone?"

"Salarians. Uh, well, it's a long story, there, but their policy on love is, essentially, mating, so they wanted to make sure you were a good genetic match..." She hugged her knees guiltily.

"And?" he pressed.

"They said it was good, but that any children might have anger management issues, severe ADHD, and strong biotic abilities. They told me that your record was clean, but there were a bunch of allegagtions and that you might have been in protective custody at one point..."

"All true. They find out who my parents were while they were at it?"

"No. I mean, Mordin probably could if you wanted to..."

"At this point? What good would it do? She left me on a fucking playground. I was three! What the hell was I supposed to do? Die?"

"I don't know..." She touched his hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you remember that..."

"Bullshit," he growled, jerking away from her. "You're just intent on opening old wounds."

She sat back. "Did they heal?"

"Fucking right."

She leaned against the headboard for a moment before lying down with her back to him. "You were right. I should've just gone to sleep."

Shepard glared at her. "So that's it, then? No apology?"

She rounded on him, on her knees before he knew what was happening. "What do you want me to say? I'm sorry I wanted to know what was bothering you? I'm sorry I'm still curious about your past? About why you never, ever mentioned your life before you were eighteen? I love you as you are, but I still want to know... I want to be able to understand that dark side of you, but you won't let me. I get that you have to be tough and everything, but the fact is that you're a good guy. Even with everything you've done, you've always been like that. Ruthless? Yes. Not nice? Definitely. But bad or evil? Never. It isn't just anyone that decides to save a galaxy, even when he's got everyone fighting him and is forced to work with his enemies. Do you want to know what I think? I think you've always been like that, but you were just too young to recognize that being strong, tough, and badass didn't mean that you had to be evil, too."

"I murdered my best friend. I sent the only good men in the Reds to their deaths because I had this fucked up idea that I could trust the damn man! I killed ten men and made someone else take the fall for it. I fucked three women at a time and didn't even bother to get their names. Don't tell me that I'm a good man, Cassie, because I'm not. You're too naive to even understand what it means to have a dark past. To get the guilt that presses down on you so much to the point that you stop caring entirely so you don't have to deal with it ever again. Then you showed up and made me have to deal with it. Do you have any idea what it's like to actually feel something for the first time? You get scared because you don't know what's happening. You try and shut it out, ignore it, lock it away, channel it... Anything but embrace it and see it as strength instead of weakness." He put his head in his hands. "I still don't know how to deal with anything but what I feel for you, but the guilt, remorse... Anything but love and anger is just..."

Corinthia embraced him, kissing his cheek. "I'm sorry, John. I had no idea..."

He covered her hand with his. "I don't deserve you."

"Bullshit," she answered, flicking his ear playfully. "Besides, deserving or not, you've got me and you're stuck with me for as long as we both shall live." She blanched and slapped a hand over her mouth. "Did I just say that out loud?"

As terrible as he felt, he still couldn't help but smirk. "Cassie, I'm going to marry you eventually and you know it, so don't freak out if you let it slip that you want me to propose eventually. Besides, our lifespans aren't exactly certain, are they? They said I was impossible to kill and I died."

"Why do you think I decided to start sleeping with you?"

"I hope that's a joke..."

She blushed guiltily. "Uh... kinda. I love you and that's about ninety percent of it, but if I was going to lose you again, I couldn't bear to think that you didn't know... that I wouldn't know... I already knew that you'd be my only one, so I figured, 'what the hell? At least he'd be happier and we wouldn't be dancing around it anymore'."

"You do like to prolong sexual tension..."

She giggled. "Sorry. I like drama."

"Yes, well, please, no more in my life. I already have enough, you know."

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry for bringing up bad memories." After a moment, she laughed. "I'm not tired at all now, though."

"I am," Shepard answered. "Unless that was some kind of veiled suggestion."

"Do you want it to be?"

He shook his head. "Not tonight."

"Same thing as before?"

"Yeah."

"Can I at least snuggle?"

He sighed, defeated, and lay back down. "Fine."

She immediately took her place at his side, kissing his lips. "See, Johnny? You didn't scare me off."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't EVER call me that."

She shivered and moved closer to him. "I'm sorry, John. I won't."

Rufus hopped onto the bed and wedged his way between them, as he was like to do. Corinthia, for once, wasn't annoyed at it. Shepard seemed determined to feel sorry for himself and not accept any form of comfort from her.

"Rufus, move," Shepard growled, picking up the varren and setting him on the foot of the bed. "Damn varren..." he muttered, pulling Corinthia back to him. "I'm sorry, Cassie. I didn't want to argue, but that nickname..."

"I get it, John. Bad memories."

He ran his fingers through her hair. "Yeah... I..."

She kissed him gently. "I'm sorry I pushed you. I don't have to know anything. Whatever happened in the past happened and we can't change it. You aren't anywhere near the man you were when I met you; you've only gotten better. I know you won't go back, either. I love you too much and you love me too much. So, I won't make you tell me anything and I promise I won't look into it. I was just worried about you, that's all. You're normally not anywhere near so reserved when you get back."

"You're usually awake."

"I was tired and didn't think you'd be here so soon."

"You weren't listening in?"

"No, not really. I..." She turned away.

"Imreas?"

She nodded.

"So she isn't gone..."

"You knew that she wasn't. I know we'd hoped, but... Well, something triggered her to speak up. She didn't come out, but..."

He rubbed her back. "It's alright, Cassie. We'll deal with it."

She took a shuddering breath. "I'd just hoped that things were getting better, that we really were winning..."

"What did she say?"

"That she couldn't leave just yet. Too much was uncertain and all that shit."

"And here I was bitching about my past..."

"You're allowed, you know. It wasn't pretty. Besides, do you know the only thing that changed in my mind when you told me that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Should I be afraid or eager?"

"Aside from the woman thing — which I knew about, by the way — it just convinced me that you were even more badass than I'd thought and you know that I like that." She tickled his ribs.

He waved her off. "God, Ci-Ci. We're talking about badass and you go and do that?"

"Aren't you in a better mood now?"

He nodded. "Much."

"Good." She leaned over him and kissed him.

When she moved to pull away, he didn't let her. He rolled her onto her back, letting his fingers run through her hair and down her sides. "I'm sorry," he murmured, resting his forehead against hers.

"Don't be," she answered softly,putting her arms around his neck. "I love you, so all's forgiven and you don't have to tell me anything."

His pressed his lips against her throat. "Want me to show you, then?"

She giggled and curled a foot around his calf. "It's up to you, Commander. You weren't in the mood a few minutes ago."

"Yeah, well, you can be pretty convincing."

"I know. It's a gift."

With his spot on the bed usurped until Joker radioed in the next morning, Rufus hopped off the mattress and curled up on the couch, head stuck between the pillows. He could sleep through krogan raids, so long as he had a place to sleep. In all honesty, he needed to make the couch his spot instead of the bed; he never really got to sleep on the latter at night, anyway. It's what he got for being adopted by people in love.