When Fates Collide

Chapter 25

~ ~ Reflections ~ ~

A long, slender finger slowly, but diligently tapped against the cold steel table. The small compartment was absent of all organic speech, like the endless void of space currently surrounding the ship. Clicking, buzzing, and humming of electronic devices was the control room's only other song. With another impatient sigh, the lonely digit was instigated into increasing its speed and soon found itself accompanied by its neighbors, drumming a rhythmic tune of impatience.

A pair of royal blue eyes fell upon the owner of the tapping quartet. A slight smile tugged at the edges of the asari maiden, who in the last few weeks had gone from isolated prothean dirt digger to copilot savior of the universe. Despite all she had endured recently, the maiden had found great strength within, the likes of which, until now, she had only ever seen within her own mother. At first, her instinct was to rebel against the dramatic changes in her life, but now, with a particular human soldier, who was also a newly appointed spectre, at her side, she felt capable of anything.

Stifling a small chuckle, Liara eyed the owner of the rapping hand. Donning a fully lopsided smile, which she borrowed from the former rogue soldier, the prothean professor crossed her slender arms over her chest, cocked her head to the side and musically inquired, "Expecting bad news Shepard?"

The highly anxious tapping came to an immediate stop. For the first time, the Normandy's pilot saw the hard soldier uncharacteristically quake in her boots upon hearing the harmonious tone of T'Soni's voice. The redhead straightened up and tugged apprehensively at the collar of her baggy, dark green jumper suit. The worn coveralls had become the spectre's standard attire since being unceremoniously relieved of her borrowed alliance uniform. As the newly appointed commander whirled around to greet the asari doctor, she blew a piece of her long, unkempt hair out of her face and stammered, "No, No Liara everything is fine. Joker is just patching a transmission from the Citadel through."

Finally realizing she was losing the battle with the rebellious lock of hair, the commander quickly tucked the long stand of copper hair out view. Breaking eye contact, the spectre turned as if nothing were wrong, however, the asari maiden knew the commander a bit too well.

"Is this not the first we have heard from the Citadel since departing?"

Joker looked at Shepard, expecting the commander to answer the asari, but when the spectre remained silent he wisecracked, "Yeah… well…we haven't been gone long enough to send them postcards…"

The Normandy had been underway a good full day without receiving any news from the Citadel or her prestigious council. Shepard was hoping the council would turn a blind eye for her personal vengeance on the two c-sec officers, who had taken advantage of her vulnerable situation, and was half expecting a reprimand any day now. The spectre even went so far as to speculate, she would lose her spectreship after Saren had been dealt with. The reprehensible idea infuriated the former rogue soldier and reminded her of her troubled past since losing the Skyllian Blitz. The moppy redhead did not like being used by anyone, but every time she thought about abandoning the mission, she simply had to look at Liara and remember Matriarch Benezia's request, "Keep her safe, no matter what."

Damn! Shepard chastised herself, that sneaky Benezia got you good, didn't she?

Tearing the woman from her internal struggle over making promises was the familiar voice of her favorite sassy alliance pilot, "Oh look Space Ghost, it's the Citadel Council on line 2…" Twisting his head around, the bearded man quipped with a twinge of humor, "…should I put them on hold or say you're not in?"

"Just patch it through Joker."

"Aye, Aye Commander!"

Massaging her temple in frustration over her failed attempts at stopping the pilot from using the honorable term, Shepard merely sighed and rolled her eyes.

Not wanting to intrude, Liara suggested, "Shepard I should go. This sounds important."

"No!" Shepard announced, and with the lightning fast reflexes of a trained killer, reached out and gently gripped the maiden's forearm.

Suddenly surprised by the swiftness of their close proximity, Liara's sparkling eyes shot wide, causing a light rosiness to flush upon the commander's cheeks. Quickly releasing the woman's arm, the redhead confidently stated, "I want you to stay. If this is important, then I want you here with me."

Lost in the mirrored eyes smiling back at her, Shepard subconsciously felt Joker's eyes peering up at her intently. Glancing in the pilot's direction, the spectre added, nearly choking out the words, "For the mission. I need her here for the mission."

The ornery pilot remained silent, not uttering a word as he continued to flip switches, making calculations on his control panel, but Shepard could tell by his boyish grin and nodding, that the man was thinking other things.

"Anything you say, Commander" the outspoken man eventually retaliated.

"Just patch it through Lieutenant before I throw you in the brig for a week."

With a shake of her head, Shepard silenced the asari maiden's burning question before her lips had time to vocalize her thoughts, indicating she wouldn't really throw the pilot in the brig.

Suddenly feeling embarrassed, Liara slowly lowered her head and began to twiddle her fingers behind her back, like she did as a child. It was a common occurrence for her when she was nervous, during one of her mother's many important meetings or ceremonies. Her mother used to preach to her, "T'Soni's must always keep face. Always present themselves as confident, calm, and above all: in control."

Directing everyone's attention to the main holoscreen on the bridge was Joker's serious tone, "Patching the council through in three…two…one."

Immediately following his words, a feminine voice spoke, "Normandy, can you hear us?"

"Yes, this is Shepard. We hear you."

There was only static on the line when the half bearded pilot coughed, insinuating Shepard had forgotten something. Smoothly flicking his finger across the top left hand side of his uniform, where it was customary for military personnel's names to be embroidered, the pilot's casual gesture served as a protocol reminder to his new commanding officer.

Rolling her eyes at the jester, the reluctant redhead cleared her throat before amending her previous reply. "This is Commander Shepard of the Normandy. We read you loud and clear Counselor Tevos."

Pleasantly surprised to hear the former rogue soldier use her new official title, the asari matriarch on the other line chimed, "So good to hear your voice again, Spectre."

"Yes," joined the salarian councilor's voice unexpectedly, as sharp and precise as it had been at Shepard's trial, "most satisfactory indeed."

Genuinely curious, Commander Shepard asked, "How is Councilor Sparatus?"

"He is well, Commander Shepard," melodically replied Tevos, "nice of you to inquire-"

"Councilor Sparatus is meeting with his Primarch," interrupted the salarian, "nothing tragically pressing. The turian meritocracy routinely engages in quarterly meetings for the express purpose of strengthening relations between their people. In addition, this meeting is particularly ceremonious as it coincides with their Warrior Games that, like your Olympic Games, occur every four cycles…"

As the salarian droned on about group military strategy simulations and mission readiness assessments, in addition to the individual physical competitions that, from his tone, suggested the cerebral salarian was not impressed by the militant turian's needs for posturing, through this display of military machismo… Shepard's thoughts started to drift… her brain only sporadically registering a few words from Valern… How does Tevos put up with those two? She must have an incredible amount of patience… I think I would've shot him already… One can't shut up and the other… hmph, Sparatus… What's that, the turian version of Spartacus? Wow his parents were cocky…

Shepard's mindless wanderings eventually converged, subconsciously, with the salarian's reference to Olympic Games and chuckling to herself thought, today's theme must be: naked… Spartacus, naked statue in Paris… Olympic Games, also originally naked… turian warri-… OH… MY… GOD!

Mistaking the look of discomfort on Shepard's face from having been subjected to Councilor Valern's rambling, Tevos kindly returned his previous interruption, "I will be sure to pass along your salutations spectre."

"Thank you councilor." replied Shepard, relieved at having her focus on the briefing restored.

Tevos acknowledged Shepard with a nod, then glanced sternly at the salarian for his exuberantly earnest outburst, while the Normandy's captain smiled and awaited further instruction. Once the Matriarch had finished with her silent scolding of Valern, she turned her attention back to Shepard, "The Normandy has been authorized safe passage to the Amazon System. You will receive all the fuel and supplies needed for your journey," she informed.

Councilor Valern, apparently unaffected by the previous look from the Matriarch, loquaciously began anew, "I will forward the exact coordinates, for the fueling depots you will be encountering on your way to the Amazon System, to your ship's navigator. When the Normandy arrives, you must communicate with the system's clearance control team to ensure safe docking procedures are followed. They will assess the atmospheric gravitational alignment upon your arrival and relay the required pressure stabilization thrust and trajectory angles required for safe conjunction with the docking clamps. Fueling depots are dangerous places. Failure to follow proper docking procedures could result in extremely hazardous conditions."

You're kidding, right? Shepard thought... he acts like I just took a prototype frigate out for a joyride!

The Matriarch, concerned the salarian councilor's overly critical attitude would rile the former rogue soldier, quickly jumped in, "I believe I can safely say, that, given her time in the alliance along with her..." Tevos paused briefly, pondering a diplomatic way to describe Shepard's outlaw years, then smiled and continued, "…along with her outside pursuits, Commander Shepard has logged more time in space than a volus trading vessel. And unless she has discovered a way to synthetically replicate mass quantities of element zero, which I'm sure if she had, one of your STG teams would have told us, the commander has probably visited a fuel depot before and is well versed with their docking and fueling procedures."

Nicely played Tevos... Shepard mused… Pacified the human and the salarian in one shot... Damn you're good...

"Of course! Of course, you're absolutely correct Councilor. Please excuse my transgression Shepard. I... We have not had many dealings with advanced humans and unfortunately, you being… human… makes it easy to classify you with the less visionary of your kind, that regrettably dominate your species. You are obviously a seasoned space traveler. Please excuse my oversight."

Shepard realized both councilors were apprehensively waiting for her to speak... well as far as salarian apologies go... I guess I could cut him some slack... I'm well acquainted with some idiot humans myself... Udina… and he did say please twice, that's some serious groveling for a salarian... Glancing over to the asari maiden, who was also intensely awaiting the spectre's reaction, Shepard began, "Thank you for your kind endorsement councilor, and yes, becoming part of the atmosphere is currently not on my bucket list, so we will be careful." Shepard replied smiling. She knew they wouldn't have a proper translation for the human idiom, and took satisfaction in knowing it wouldn't be until later when they'd realize: she had the last word... Ah...sometimes… life is good.

"Thank you Shepard." replied the matriarch, looking relieved. Then continued in a tone, which the veteran soldier could've sworn was filled with a twinge of doubt... concern?

"May Goddess Athame look after you and your crew spectre. Contact us if you require any further assistance." Councilor Tevos proffered.

"Thank you Matriarch Tevos for your blessing and for the council's assistance. We will stop Saren."

"We hope for your quick and speedy success." bid the salarian councilor.

"Thank you. Commander Shepard Out."

When the holo extinguished, there was a moment of silence amongst the three crew members, as the enormity of what they were about to embark upon and its grave implications, firmly took hold.

Joker, in his inimitable flippant style, shattered the solemnness, "You know, you being a spectre and all is super cool, but I think I'd rather snowboard down Bear Mountain than sit through another one of those council briefings."

Liara looked curiously at the pilot, "I would think, given your medical condition that would be extremely unwise. You would almost certainly sustain multiple fractures, resulting in subjecting yourself, unnecessarily, I might add, to excruciating pain."

"Exactly."

"But I don't under-"

"It's a joke Liara." Shepard replied, smiling at the asari's failure to comprehend human sarcasm as she tucked another wild strand of hair behind her ear.

"A joke?" The asari peered amusingly at the ship's pilot. "I see..."

"Don't worry about it." Shepard said, "Just take everything Joker says as nonsense and you'll probably be right 99 percent of the time." advised Shepard.

"Hey-"

"That's enough, Mister." The spectre said in an authoritative tone, though her wink to Liara clearly indicated she had not yet finished jesting with the pilot, "You heard the councilor. We have our clearance for the fuel depot. So you just make sure you pay attention to your thrust and angle when coupling up…" Shepard paused long enough to witness Joker's face turn red before continuing, "… to the depot... 'cuz you know how dangerous these mid-space fuelings can be."

With Joker effectively silenced, the ladies left the pilot to coordinate refueling with Pressley and made their way off the bridge. Standing outside the decontamination chamber, and out of earshot, Liara softly asked Shepard, "Are you okay?"

Carefully licking her busted bottom lip, Shepard replied, "Sure... I know not all the bruises have healed-"

"Including the new ones" interrupted the asari maiden.

"Yeah," Shepard wryly admitted, "including the new ones, but otherwise, I'm good."

Casually moving directly in front of the galactic commander, Liara continued, "While it pleases me to hear that, I was not referring to your physical injuries."

Suddenly feeling like she was between a rock and a hard place, the redhead took a few random steps backwards as she contemplated what the asari meant. Turning back towards the matriarch's daughter, the puzzled commander asked, "Then what?"

"During the briefing you seemed to be experiencing signs of discomfort," concerned, Liara placed her hand on Shepard's arm and asked, "Are the visions bothering you again?"

Inadvertently reminded of the more recent, graphic images plaguing her thoughts, courtesy of Councilor Valern's ramblings, the spectre shuddered, shook her head and reassured the asari, "Not… those visions."

Smiling at the befuddled prothean expert, Shepard chuckled to herself... Yep… if all else fails, we'll send in a platoon of naked turians and scare Sovereign back into dark space…

About to continue down the hall, the pair heard the ship's 1MC fill the pilot's station.

"Is Shepard up there?"

Answering, before the commanding officer had time to fully enter the bridge and respond, Joker proudly announced, "Yes Dr. Chakwas, Commander Shepard is standing right here. She just finished a debriefing with the council. Whatcha need?"

"Good, now that you have some free time, Commander, I'd like to request your presence in the med lab at once."

Frowning, the newly appointed spectre whispered, "Why didn't that sound like a request?"

With a twinge of seriousness in his voice, Joker stated, "Trust me Commander. You don't want to keep the doctor waiting." Massaging his backside at the memory of one of his missed Vrolik Syndrome appointments, the pilot honestly answered, "At least not that one, that's for sure."

Leaning over the pilot, ensuring the message went through; Shepard pressed the button to answer, "I'll swing by first thing tomorrow morning Doc'."

An eloquent voice immediately shot back, "I don't see anything wrong with right now."

Joker made absolutely no attempt to stifle his laugh when he chuckled, "Like Dr. Chakwas never heard that one before."

The stumped soldier muttered, "Well…um…" and abruptly switched off the channel. Looking over to her trusty pilot, Shepard inquired, "She can't actually pull rank, can she? I mean medically?"

Shifting a bit uneasily in his seat, the alliance pilot answered, "I'm not sure about that, but she can pronounce you mentally unstable to command and quarantine you…" The man looked up, stared directly into the woman's emerald saucers and with absolute dread uttered, "… forever."

Another deep sigh escaped the commander as she looked back at the prothean expert, who was again striking her famous intimidating stance. However, Shepard thought, on Liara it looked more adorable than threatening. Realizing no assistance was coming from Chakwas's temporary lodger, the redhead rolled her shoulders, bracing herself for the unthinkable, but inevitable concession. Leaning back over the pilot, her original alliance dog tags dangling in his face, the moppy headed soldier reported, "I'll be there in 30."

When no response was returned, the spectre begrudgingly pressed the button again. "Ok, make it 15 minutes."

"Very good Commander... See you soon."

Shepard turned around at the sound of Joker snorting from how well the good doctor had manhandled the former rogue soldier and was surprised to see Liara snickering along with him. Graciously accepting the lost battle, Shepard ushered her hand forward, "Care to escort me to medical, Professor?"

Shuffling her feet, the asari maiden lost a bit of control as she giggled, "Absolutely Shepard." Turning back to glance at the pilot, who was intently watching the interaction between the two, Liara nonchalantly added, "It would be my pleasure."

%%%%%

The Normandy's medical officer waved a penlight back and forth in front of Shepard's eyes like she was guest conducting the London Symphony. The former rogue soldier clenched her jaw with restraint, while being forced to endure something she absolutely hated. Her pale skin rippled with tension as the lighted baton once again flickered relatively close to one eye, but then Chakwas muttered, 'Just look straight...' and the spectre actually chuckled under her breathe. Thankfully, the doctor was thoroughly consumed with displaying her proficiency in light torturing techniques and did not immediately register Shepard's movement; the spectre was in no mood for an encore performance. Chakwas, satisfied the soldier's pupil dilation was normal, concluded her efforts at blinding the newly minted spectre, and the silver haired officer slid the penlight back into her smock's pocket. "Well, that's about everything." reported the British accent.

A gust of air fluttered out of the spectre's mouth causing her lips to vibrate. "Can I go now?"

Placing a soft hand on the commanding officer's shoulder, the doctor informed her, "Not yet. We still need to replace those bandages. They look to be a few days old now." Removing her medical gloves and placing them in the incinerator, Dr. Chakwas mentioned, "After all, someone has been avoiding the med bay like a curse." Eyeing the woman sitting uncomfortably on the gurney in her bra and panties, the medical alliance commander commented with a hint of teasing in her tone, "It wouldn't be because of me, would it Shepard?"

Scoffing, as if the idea was absurd instead of true, the redhead retorted, "Who you? Of course not Doc'… I like you. Everybody likes Dr. Chakwas."

In a sweet, motherly tone, which sent shockwaves up the spectre's back, Dr. Chakwas revealed, "Oh good. I'd hate to be the reason you didn't take better care of yourself."

Another gust of air bolted from the spectre's mouth.

Dr. Chakwas stepped away from the soldier and nodded at the clothes neatly folded on the bed. She knew the veteran soldier always had higher priorities than taking care of herself. "You can get dressed now. You seem to be healing quite nicely with the recovery meds I've given you. I wasn't sure how you'd react to them since they haven't been made available for public use yet." Picking up her datapad to log in her findings, the doctor turned around in time to peer at the redhead who had only just managed to put one leg in her coveralls. "But, those ribs need a little more time to heal…"

The experienced soldier recognized that tone in the dropped sentence. "So…?"

The doctor spun back around towards her desk, hoping to avoid Shepard's reaction to what she was about to say next, "So… I'm going to put you on a week's light duty."

As expected, Shepard blurted out a stunned protest, "A WEEK?!"

As calm and refined as ever, almost as pleasant as if she were ordering dinner, Dr. Chakwas continued, "Yes a week, and then I am going to put you on an additional week of partial light duty."

"Two weeks?! What the-"

Cutting the spectre off, Dr. Chakwas interjected, "Shepard, it is not polite to interrupt when someone is talking."

Feeling like a child who had just been chastised, the redhead thrust her other leg into the coveralls, hastily and sloppily pulling them on and spat, "You know I have a rogue spectre to stop and all."

"Precisely," turning around to witness the soldier dropping her boots onto the floor, Dr. Chakwas explained, "that is exactly why I am trying to get you back to 100 percent health before you venture off onto your incredibly dangerous mission." The silver haired woman stepped closer to the soldier, peered into her intense green eyes and stated in a soothing voice, "Shepard, all life as we know it, is counting on you. It is my responsibility to ensure you are physically capable of such a task."

Unconsciously slipping her heel into her boot, the newly appointed galactic commander froze. The spectre sucked in a slow deep breath before her eyes looked forgivingly up at the doctor. Although she was perfectly aware of exactly what she had been assigned to do, to hear it spoken aloud, by somebody with no political agenda, truly impacted how utterly important her task was to every living creature in the universe. She had to stop Saren. She had to stop Sovereign, the bringer of destruction to the entire universe.

Slumping back against the bed, a soft, raspy voice crackled, "Dr. Chakwas, I'm sorry."

Placing an understanding hand on the captain's shoulder, the seasoned medical officer spoke, "It's ok Shepard. I can't imagine the weight that you bear."

Fear and hope filled the woman's skull in a flood of images, but the veteran warrior pushed them all aside. "So… how about that dressing change?"

Knowing she had been able to get her point across to the spectre, that her importance as a person, as Kate Shepard, the woman, was a far greater priority than any title thrust upon her, the doctor smiled and retrieved her bandage kit.

As the medical officer carefully wrapped a fresh roll of gauze around the spectre's black and blue ribcage, the two women quickly reverted back to their casual relationship prior to the power struggle. Compassionate glances were exchanged as the medical officer assisted the spectre in putting on her undershirt. Since the beating, it had become hard for the soldier to lift her left arm very high. It was something the proud commander desperately tried to keep hidden from the prothean expert and had, thus far, been successful.

Dr. Chakwas then meticulously examined Shepard's freshly bruised hands and instantly knew, exactly what had done the damage. Carefully flipping the hand back over, Dr. Chakwas gently tugged at each finger ensuring nothing was broken. "I hope you gave those bastards the beating they deserved."

Shocked the chief medical officer would even suspect, much less accurately guess, what had caused the bruising, Shepard grinned slyly before responding, "Doc, I have no idea what you are talking about."

Dropping the discolored hand back into her lap, Dr. Chakwas mirrored the slick grin and quipped, "Of course you don't."

Watching the spectre painfully adjust herself on the table, the veteran medical officer offered her condolences before peering at the cut above her eye. "Ok, here comes the not so fun part."

Dragging her knuckles over the zipper enclosing her bruised skin, Shepard chuckled and retorted, "What part before was fun?" the redhead winced, as she spoke holding her tender side, the busted ribs reminding her not to laugh too hard, "Because, I think I missed it."

"Ouch!" yelped the human spectre. "That hurt!"

Practically ignoring the annoyed soldier's outburst, Dr. Chakwas's skilled hands moved eloquently over the slice in the woman's temple. "Hold still Commander, you squirming isn't going to make it hurt any less."

"Yeah, but that really hurt."

"Well this would be a lot easier if your hair wasn't all over the place." Rubbing the hair line where the redhead felt like she had just been partially scalped, the English woman added, "I hear Ash has several sisters. She is bound to know how to cut hair."

"No offense Doc', but I'm not sure I wouldn't let Liara cut my hair before I'd let Gunny Chief Williams do it."

Gently stroking the surgical tape that held the spectre's bandage in place, the chief medical officer announced, "Ok, that should hold you over for now." Floating over to a medicine cabinet, the silver haired commander picked up and examined a few bottles before finding the one she was looking for. Tossing it over to the unsuspecting redhead, who barely caught the ointment, the good doctor declared, "Put some of this on your busted lip, three times a day as well."

The medical officer's nimble fingers glided over the datapad as Shepard readied for her departure from the lab. Turning around as Shepard started to stroll towards the door, Dr. Chakwas rung out, "Don't forget to see Ash about that haircut."

Spinning sharply on her heels, as precisely as she had learned in bootcamp, Shepard did an about face. The spectre's facial expression clearly saying she was strongly protesting the whole Ash cutting her hair idea. As confident though as the soldier was on the battlefield against her enemies, Dr. Chakwas was equally as skillful at knowing how to persuade her patients into doing what she commanded. Shepard's pouting look was countered with the all-knowing doctor's orders stare and the spectre was defeated in this war of wills by a stronger, wiser and more persuasive glare from the doctor.

"I expect to be able to actually see your face the next time you visit, Commander," the doctor's deceptively sweet voice, worthy of speaking to young schoolchildren, echoed off the lab walls.

Still rubbing the sore spot on her head, the redhead muttered barely loud enough to answer the medical commander, "Yes ma'am."

"Good, I already called Williams while you were getting dressed. She should be here any second. "

An exasperated Shepard gawked at the medical officer as she stood inside the medical facility door. When the stoic doctor offered no reaction in return, the commander, once again, twisted on her heels and exited the med bay, shocked to realize she had been duped by the person she had considered a friend.

Peering around the corner, to make sure the coast was clear, Shepard tentatively stepped out onto the mess decks. As a familiar ding sounded, Shepard groaned inwardly and shut her eyes. A moment later, the galactic commander heard a sound that wracked a new kind of fear into the spectre.

"Shepard!" excitedly chimed Ash jogging towards the captain. Eyeing the mop of hair, Williams exclaimed, "I can't wait to cut that hair of yours."

"What? I never said you could cut my hair."

Crossing her arms defiantly over her chest, the steadfast soldier stated, "Shepard, don't make me go get Wrex or ewww, Liara."

About to step away from the alliance soldier, the spectre contemplated for a moment whether or not the gunny was bluffing. Shepard's desperate expression of wanting to escape did not slip past the eldest Williams sister and she immediately slapped a hand on her hip and waved the other at the elevator leading to the cargo bay.

"So… you coming peacefully, or do I need to get reinforcements?"

%%%%%

Snip… snip… another long strand of copper hair floated to the ground.

Begrudgingly sitting in the makeshift barber chair, Shepard fiddled under the alliance poncho that, when turned inside out, served as an excellent hair bib. The galactic commander suddenly felt a lot less like the savior of the galaxy and more like a small child getting her first haircut. She felt silly as long, wet strands of her hair smothered her face. Puffing once or twice, she tried to ineffectively prevent her mane from tickling her nose.

"So, where did you learn to cut hair?" asked the unenthusiastic spectre, whose thoughts were mainly focused on the strands of fiery hair, departing her scalp. Shepard had never been one to be particularly fond of haircuts and as she hardly ever came across any other redheads, she considered her moppy red hair precious and wanted to keep as much of her dark scarlet locks as possible.

"Duh, I have four sisters."

Resisting, yet another urge, to reach out from under the cape and catch a strand of falling hair, the spectre muttered, "Oh."

Shepard felt the gunny's tough hands melt into smooth silk, as she tenderly intertwined her fingers within the spectre's wet mop. Gently tugging at her scalp, Williams performed a balancing act, skillfully holding a black military comb and shears in one hand, while the other glided over the next stand to be sacrificed. Snip…Snip… Snip… Snip… Sighing deeply, the spectre began to speculate if there was more hair on the ground than on her head. Feeling the comb drag, once more, over her scalp, she strove to focus on anything but the haircut and let her mind drift. After sitting still for a few moments, the spectre suddenly remembered something and turned around. "Hold on a second…in that pic you showed me, all your sisters had long hair."

"Yes, but they had lots of boyfriends, who had short hair." Fiddling with the copper locks between her finger tips, the alliance soldier mocked, "Someone needs to tame this wild beast that has taken refuge upon your head. Besides, I think you'd look a lot better with shorter hair, if you don't mind me saying."

"Hey!"

"Hey What?! Shepard, let's be honest. When was the last time you had a decent hair cut?"

Scowling, the commanding officer grumbled, "Hey, I've had haircuts."

Unwavering in her banter, Ashley countered, "Yeah, and when was the last time it was done by a human, who didn't use a knife bigger than your hand?" Before the spectre could turn around with her rebuttal, the brown skinned woman barked out, "… or by a woman?!" preventing the soldier from fabricating any other endeavors to halt the haircut. The reformed soldier cantankerously sat back in the chair and tried to strike her infamous badass stance underneath the poncho. However, as the alliance officer watched the spectre squirm, the poncho upturned, and rather than the deadly warning normally emitted by the fear striking pose, Shepard looked more like a petulant toddler, pouting over not getting her way.

Resigned to her fate, the spectre attempted to organize her thoughts and tried to recall her last haircut, as described, by Ash's parameters. Shepard drifted back, remembering she hadn't had a real human haircut since the battle on Elysium; but, shifting uneasily in her seat, the redhead recalled even then, it was a male barber who sculpted her copper locks in the service.

Unconsciously releasing a heavy sigh, a sudden memory of Shepard's mother playfully blowing small wisps of hair off her nose, brought a surprising smile to the spectre's lips. Fond recollections of gentle fingertips tickling her ears and the back of her neck until Shepard pleaded for mercy from the goose bumps and their tingling sensations floated across the soldier's thoughts until they slowly crept back to the present and the galactic commander wondered… Where is mom now? As quickly as the pleasant smile appeared, it departed, and Shepard felt the familiar knot within her chest... Why didn't she come for me? Why did she abandon me?

When Ash saw that Shepard was deep in thought and no longer resisting, she proceeded with the much needed haircut. Pulling…combing…snipping, the gunny made quick work of Shepard's grooming. Finally, grazing

the twin blades of cold steel across the spectre's cheek, the last lock of hair to be cut fell silently to the floor and the eldest sister of four stood back to admire her work. Shifting her weight on one leg, the soldier placed a hand on her hip, while holding the scissors to her mouth in profound thought.

"Hey Wrex! What do you think?!" belted the proud barber.

Peeking out from the edge of her new bouffant, Shepard glared at the gunny, appalled she had asked the krogan's opinion of her hair style. Wrex, not wanting to be disturbed, just grumbled as he continued rummaging through a bucket of weapon's parts.

"No, seriously, what do you think of the new style? I really think I outdid myself..."

Reluctantly, the mighty battlemaster lifted his head and when his eyes saw the spectre, who was now dusting away the stray strands of hair, he let the large bucket he was sifting through fall heavily onto the counter. The sudden racket triggered Shepard and Williams to abruptly look over at the former merc. The spectre, feeling uncomfortable with Wrex's scrutiny, quickly began brushing away the last remnants of her locks. It wasn't the mighty battlemaster himself that bothered her, but rather his sudden, intense, piercing gaze. Patting her lap clean, the redheaded woman grumbled to herself, now what?

Wrex deliberated for a moment, choosing his words with great care he said, "Shepard, not that I have had a great amount of experience with your kind, but…" His massive head tilted to the side then back again before resuming, "…you look worthy to walk amongst the finest of warriors."

Taken back by the bold statement, much less the fact that Wrex had spoken more than five words at once, the newly appointed spectre looked dumbfoundedly at Williams to confirm she had not just imagined the battlemaster's enormous compliment.

"Yep!" Ash proclaimed, beaming from ear to ear, "I did good… Real Good!"

Before the mortified spectre could suppress the joyous uprising in the cargo bay, the woman's rank and title rang out over the 1MC, "Commander Shepard. Your presence is urgently requested in your quarters. You have an important transmission pending from the Citadel."

Projecting towards the closest box, the redhead replied, "Thank you Lieutenant Pressley. I'll be right there." Then, muttering to whomever was in earshot, "I don't hear a peep since leaving and now the council has the Normandy on speed dial."

"Always the life in the alliance ma'am," Ash proudly proclaimed.

Twisting about, to face the alliance officer, Shepard pronounced, "Don't think you've heard the end of this Ash."

%%%%%

Commander Shepard's fingers drifted over the keypad, which opened the door to her personal living space. Usually she'd be brushing away wild strands of red hair, while trying to enter her code, but to her surprise, however, no hair floated down into her face when she leaned over the door control. Crossing the threshold, into her cabin the spectre musingly grumbled, "Ash, I've still got your number."

As Shepard advanced inside the cabin, the lights immediately turned on providing a soft glow to the room. The spectre tried walking over to her desk to review a datapad while waiting for the incoming transmission, but her path was blocked by several large crates. Before the captain had time to further examine the obstacles invading her cabin, her quarters filled with sound, as the alliance pilot announced, "Patching you through to the Citadel now, Commander."

"Thank you, Joker." The seasoned soldier turned and faced the holoscreen, which had sprung to life with a familiar voice and friendly face, "Hey kiddo, I wanted to check in and see how you were doing?"

The woman's posture relaxed after hearing the kind voice. Shifting to one side, the spectre playfully asked, "You want me to believe that you called me in space…in the middle of nowhere, just to say hi?"

An earnest, hearty laugh followed as the man spoke, "I should have known better than to try and fool you."

Returning the heartfelt answer, Shepard said, "Dave Anderson, you're going to have to get up earlier than that to pull something over my eyes."

"Good to hear" reported the woman's former superior officer.

"Well although you'd really like it to be, I know this call isn't entirely personal. So, what's up Captain?"

The man chuckled stiffly before responding, "Well, first of all, that's Admiral Anderson now."

"Well that didn't take long," teased the semi-junior officer.

"It's not like that," the man said, taking on a more of a serious tone, "I have been temporary placed in charge of human relations on the Citadel until the council concludes their very thorough investigation of Udina."

"Well that could take years to dig up all the filth that man has been neck deep in… But just the same, congrats Admiral Anderson on the promotion."

Relaxing, Anderson said, "Thanks, but that isn't all of it."

Readying herself for a longwinded Alliance speech, the spectre shifting back and crossed her arms over her chest, "Of course it's not."

"It's about Saren," the admiral paused for a moment, allowing the spectre to fume before going on. "The odd thing is… the council doesn't seem to be very helpful about stopping Saren in public," the seasoned officer rubbed his chin as he continued, "but behind closed doors, the gloves are off and they have opened every possible resource, for me to help you stop Saren."

"I get it, covert, ok. If we fail, then they won't be held responsible."

Shifting back, the man spoke in an equally disgusted manner, "Yeah that is what I figured as well. Seems that politicians, no matter what species they are, don't like to get their hands dirty. Welcome to the wonderful world of politics Shepard. That's why I always preferred being in the field instead of behind a desk." Pushing his personal feelings on the matter aside, Admiral Anderson reported, "None the less soldier, we have a job to do."

Briefly glancing at the ground, before back at the holoscreen, the redhead affirmed, "Yes sir, we do."

"Alright then, I'm transferring the additional intelligence I was able to obtain and what you might be facing when you go against Saren to your omni-tool now."

The spectre looked down to see her omni-tool spring to life, as the data Anderson mentioned, downloaded.

"It includes Saren's last known associates and a list of planets he's recently visited. I was also able to access some secure files from Udina's office. They are heavily encrypted, but I believe they reveal Saren's connection with the geth. I imagine your engineer, Tali, might find them of great interest."

Remembering how the quarian's mind worked, Shepard chuckled thinking she would have to remind the girl the heavily encrypted file took months to lock and not to treat it like a fun puzzle. Beaming, the commander quipped, "She sure will."

"Oh, I almost forgot, because of that information you provided the council, Fist's little shipment of weapons for Saren never left the loading docks, thanks to you."

"That's good to hear."

Moving on to the next subject, the newly appointed human ambassador related, "I have instructed the Procurement Officer to deliver you three crates."

Glancing across the room, the spectre said, "Yeah, I saw that. They're pretty big. I had to jostle them around just to get in here."

Laughing, the man chuckled, "Noticed that did you?"

"Yeah they sort of take up half the cabin."

"You mean your cabin, Shepard. You are the rightful commanding officer of the Normandy now," the holographic image paced a few steps before adding, "like it or not, you better start getting used to that commander."

A nostalgic "Yes sir" answered the man, before Shepard's brain realized she hadn't obeyed an order from the military in years. Returning her focus to the mission, the spectre asked, "So, what's in the crates and why didn't I get them sooner?"

Permitting a deep breath to escape, Anderson acknowledged, "Well, with everything happening with you lately, I wanted the dust to settle before throwing something else at you."

Wearily, Shepard asked, "Dave – what's in the crates?"

"The first crate has your new spectre uniforms. Since you are the first human spectre, we have been authorized to use the standard alliance officer uniforms with your galactic spectre insignias."

"I don't need any uniforms Dave!" barked the rebellious redhead.

Unfazed by Shepard's sharp tone, Anderson rebutted, "What? You're going to go fight Saren in a pair of worn out coveralls?"

Struck by the Admiral's words, the soldier fretfully looked down and tugged at her clothing… and knew Anderson was right.

When former rogue soldier did not reply, the man continued, "The second crate is a little more your style. It has your armor… state of the art, even by other species standards in the galaxy, the design is based off the Colossus N-7 framework but has a few special upgrades."

Studying the woman opening the second crate, Dave's voice filled with pride, "Not only is it bulletproof, it's very flexible and lightweight. The exoskeleton is constructed from tungsten carbide, which enhances your blast shields, making this armor the highest overall protection available."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"The fire retardant for this suit is off the charts. From what I was told, it means you can practically take a grenade to the chest and live to tell about it," pondering the idea for a moment, the Admiral quickly added, "but that doesn't mean you should try it out."

"Yeah, I got the idea. No more big booms!"

Watching the redhead marvel at the breast plate, Captain Anderson mentioned, "It's truly one of a kind, Shepard… Worthy of a soldier such as yourself."

The woman peered up at the senior officer's compliment.

"Lift the divider up in the crate and you'll find a gamut of state of the art weapons. The best the alliance has to offer and a few pieces here and there that were so considerately donated by the council."

Lifting an oversized flamethrower armed with its own grenade launcher, the spectre's eyes shot wide as she oohed and aahed the weapon.

"Having three weeks before you reach Sybin, I'm sure you'll find some time to test them out on the shooting range. The council has even added a special weapon or two for your presiding prothean expert."

Shepard's head popped up from inside the crate.

"I was told that Liara would, perhaps, find weapons from her home planet more suitable to her liking."

A broad smile filtered across the soldier's face, "Thank you, Dave."

Chuckling, "Don't thank me. That was Councilor Tevos's idea."

Sporting a lopsided smile, Shepard replied, "Just the same, thanks." The spectre kicked the third and last crate, she didn't recognize it as being Alliance, much less human. "What's in this box?"

Focusing intently on the soldier, Anderson proudly disclosed, "Now that box is from me personally, consider it a special, good luck container. Go ahead, open her up."

As Shepard shimmied open the case, the human ambassador described the contents, "Inside you will find some models. They may seem tedious, but when I felt the stress was starting to get to me, I found them to be extremely relaxing."

A burst of laughter erupted from the woman's lips, "The famous Captain Anderson, plays with toys."

"They aren't toys, they are models. In fact, model ships from the finest fleets around the galaxy. They really are hard to come by."

Snickering, the redhead answered, while inspecting the flat colored boxes, "If you say so."

In a heavy, square box, Shepard found a box of books. Pulling one out, Anderson went on to explain, "A great leader needs great books on his shelf," Anderson saw Shepard was about to protest, but silenced the junior officer by finishing, "…whether she reads them or not."

Rolling her eyes, the redhead put down the box, placing a copy of Masters and Commanders on top. Rummaging through the crate, the veteran soldier finally popped up, happily holding a round canister at eye level. "Well holy shit, if it's not a bottle of 2143 bourbon!" Shepard ogled the rare, aged bottle for a bit before exclaiming, "Now that, is what I am talking about!" the enthusiastic woman looked up at the hologram, "You sure know how to win a girl over."

Hoping for more treats, the spectre reached back into the crate and pulled out another bottle. Slumping dejectedly, she read the label, "Serrice…Ice Brandy," the commander looked up at Anderson, frowning like a kid who hadn't gotten exactly what she wanted for Christmas, "What's this for?"

"Keep it…" the man stifled chuckle, "…for shall we say- emergencies."

The commanding officer knew there was a hidden meaning behind his words as she gently placed the bottle back in its steel cylinder case.

"Well, I need to be going now Shepard. You enjoy exploring the rest of your box…Anderson ou-"

"Wait!" interjected the spectre.

As patient as a devoted father, Dave asked, "Yes?"

"Thanks," Shepard, sheepishly tried to look anywhere, but directly into the man's eyes, "thank you for everything and I mean everything."

"You got it kid. You deserve a break after all you've been through. And if you pull this off, I'll personally make sure you get everything you deserve from now on."

The galactic commander proudly straightened up and gallantly saluted her senior officer, "Thanks Dave. Shepard out!"

The hologram went dark and the cabin's lights were returned to their ambient setting. Shepard dragged her feet over to the box of least interest to her and pulled out a royal blue blouse. The official dress blue uniform was brightly embroidered with something the woman thought she'd never see, 'Commanding Officer – SR1 Normandy, Galactic Commander, K. Shepard, SPECTRE.'

%%%%%

Shepard eyed herself in the mirror. Forcing out a deep sigh that caused her lips to flutter under the gust of air, the former rogue soldier was not thrilled about the woman staring back. This was not her. This was not the woman she had become. She was a renegade, a lawbreaker, the most wanted human alive. And yet, as she stared at the image before her, the formal, dress blue uniform clung to her body like a glove; like she was born wearing it. Her green eyes scanned upward and fixated on what used to be her moppy red hair. Now, the silky, copper tresses were beautifully sculpted to the sides of her face, forming a long bob. The new style was long enough to look feminine, shadowing the edge of her jawline, but still highlighted her intimidating features. Begrudgingly, she had to admit: she looked amazing.

Turning to the side, she slouched, and then straightened up, but the image staring back mocked the woman's feeble attempts to discredit the formidable uniform. Stubbornly, the redhead twisted around, looked at her left side and placing a hand on her stomach pushed her belly out, but even the imitation, bloated abdomen refused to distort the reflection of the commanding officer's aura.

Shepard, flipping a lock of hair behind her ear, faced the mirror and exhaled heavily. No, she didn't recognize herself, but she did vaguely remember the likeness… This woman, standing in the dress, blue uniform, looking prestigious and formal with her rank and title brightly beaming off her left breast… This highly decorated alliance officer, know to her shipmates as The Black Irish, for her black hair and piercing blue eyes…

"Mom…"

Recalling the countless times she had watched her mother get dressed, Shepard looked at her reflection and meticulously reviewed every detail… every buckle… closure and seam… to ensure they were aligned perfectly and in accordance with the Systems Alliance Uniform Code. Satisfied she had done all of it correctly, Shepard marveled at the impressive outfit and couldn't help but feel as if she were staring directly at her mother, until her green eyes… gazed upon her red hair… shattering the nostalgic illusion. Taken by the carbon copy before her, Shepard softly inhaled and muttered, "Well, this is the new, Shepard... I sure hope the galaxy is ready for you."