A/N: And here I am back with another installment to Theaters of War (TOW). It's a lot easier to write this fic compared to my other bigger undertaking that is Remnants as TOW's usually one-shot, self-contained pieces. I'm also treating TOW's as a chance for me to flex my creative muscles and try out different things in my writing.

Don't be mistaken though, these aren't always going to be grim, mopey and depressing pieces; there'll be some light-hearted ones scattered around here and there. But usually I'll just write whatever idea that seizes my mind at the moment.

Well, after too long a hiatus, I present to you Chapter 2.

Mass Effect: Theaters of War

Chapter 2 – Leap of Faith

Another star cluster lost to the Reapers; yet another day at work, Urandir Mirash mused as he dutifully trudged his way to Adealan Corporation on the Presidium. For some incomprehensible reason, instead of taking the Rapid Transit cab, the salarian decided to walk over to his offices on the Presidium. Perhaps it was just the shock of the coup attempt that knocked the safe, comfortable routine of his life askew; or perhaps it was just the state of the war that was being waged out there. He decided that it was both.

As Mirash paced alongside the tranquil waters of the lake, his attention was focused on the aerobridges that criss-crossed the higher levels of the Presidium. Jumping off of the top into the waters; I'm curious to know what that'd feel like. As soon as the thought entered his head, he shook it off. It was pointless – he'd be breaking at least ten Citadel laws and violating just as many security protocols to get up there. And the Urandir clan was not the rule breaking sort.

Remnants of the attacks still littered the Presidium. Bullet-riddled shopfronts, trails of smoke billowing from damaged electronics, malfunctioning holographic billboards; the sight of all the carnage was jarring to say the least, especially when set against the pristine environs of the Presidium which everyone took for granted to be the safest place in the galaxy. No place is safe these days, he thought grimly.

The walk costed him as he arrived to work two minutes late. Mirash cursed himself inwardly as he could already hear the reprimanding words of his mother echoing in his head. A dutiful Urandir would rather be caught in his grave than shirk his responsibilities. His mother would find it ironic as to how much truth rang in those words.

"Sorry I'm late, won't happen again!" he panted as soon as he darted through the door leading into the lobby of Adealan Corporation.

"Mirash, we weren't expecting you here at work so soon," Stefanie, the blonde human receptionist looked taken aback at his presence but upon regaining her composure, nevertheless greeted him with a warm, reassuring smile that was as immaculate as ever. "I thought the doctors told you to take it easy for a couple of days."

A dutiful Urandir would rather be caught in his grave than shirk his responsibilities, after all. "I-I think I'd taken time off enough. P-please don't tell Mr. Adealan that I'm late."

"With the Cer….uhh, incident still fresh in everybody's minds, I think being late would be the least of everyone's worries," she says in a clipped, well-rehearsed tone typical of all receptionists. She didn't even seem to miss a beat even after what transpired just days prior.

"W-well…"

He tensed up, which was always the case whenever Stefanie was in his presence. To a salarian, she was only another female coworker, but talk went around among his human and some turian colleagues that she was a pretty attractive specimen in their books. Objectively, Mirash could see some sense of truth behind that statement, but it wasn't her looks that flustered him – it was something that went beyond such superficial traits.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I'll just clock you in on time and you just go right on in. What the boss doesn't know won't hurt him."

"T-thanks. I'd better… I should get going now," he stuttered.

"Don't mention it," she grinned.

Then it dawned on him. Stefanie was an enigma; a puzzle just waiting to be figured out. Granted, he could say the same of humans in general but he'd been able to discern how most tick after a little while. Stefanie, however, she was different. Having been colleagues for close to 2 years now, she was still a conundrum that he'd yet to find an answer to. Their brief encounter was testament to that – how did she manage to keep up such a calm, assured façade when the galaxy was going to hell all around her? It perplexed him to no end.

Salarians didn't have any sex drive in the conventional sense of the word, so he knew that his infatuation with her didn't stem from some sort of hormonal drive. It was curiosity, plain and simple. Mirash would love nothing more than to just share an empty room together as they struck up a conversation while he proceeded to plumb the depths of her mind. Truth be told, the opportunity had presented itself many times now – the most recent of which was an office party a couple of months ago, before the whole debacle with the Reapers. He'd escaped to the outdoor patio to get away from the slightly-inebriated festivities happening within, and Stephanie shared the same idea.

"Hey," she said by way of greeting. He noticed that her ponytail hung loose around her shoulders.

"H-hello," he replied clumsily in kind, and then somehow finding the bottom of the liquor glass in his hand of utmost interest.

"Getting a little bit too crazy in there for your liking?"

"Y-yes, you could say that," he fidgeted with the glass.

"You and me both," she chuckled. She must have noticed his fidgeting as she added jokingly, "Mirash, loosen up a little. I don't bite if that's what you're so worried about."

"Noted."

They lapsed into silence again as they both looked out over the dusk time expanse of the Presidium. Unbeknownst to her, Mirash was waging a mental war within his head as he contended with the urge to make further conversation. However, a part of himself was convinced that he should leave her be lest he lead her on. He'd heard from his non-salarian colleagues that emotions in human courtships were oft than not very volatile and unpredictable variables. These matters were best left to his family's dalatrass.

"Wonder what the view would be like from up there," she gazed longingly at one of those lofty skybridges.

"I think it'd look brilliant," the words left his mouth before he even realized it.

"You know, I've always had this urge to get up there and jump into the waters of the lake below."

"Likewise," he caught himself this time and decided that he'd had enough of the celebrations. "I-it was nice talking to you, Stephanie. But I just remembered that I had a prior commitment to attend to."

And so it was with much regret and anxiety that he left her on the patio. After all, a dutiful Urandir would rather be caught in his grave than shirk his responsibilities

His thoughts still lingered on that particular day; running through all the probable scenarios that would have resulted if he had only stayed.

He proceeded to his cubicle space, straightening out his suit that had been slightly ruffled by his sprint over to the office. Even the order and familiarity of his desk didn't quite give him the comfort that he sought. Neither did the repetitive motions of filing and organizing bank statements that he did all morning. How could it when he was well aware of the Reapers laying waste to everything out there?

It wasn't until lunch break when someone finally gave voice to the uneasy thoughts gnawing away at the back of his head, and the rest of the office too, for that matter.

"What I just don't get is why are we still sitting here at our desks when there's a war going on out there!?" a human coworker, Bronne, exclaimed exasperatedly.

"And what would you do instead? Charge off into battle on the frontlines? You don't even have any combat training," Lyrixia, his turian colleague pointed out.

"Well, why aren't you? Didn't all turians serve time in the military? Why aren't you out there fighting for your homeworld?"

"As much as I'd like to, I still have a job here to do. With the Reapers wreaking havoc as it is, it's up to us common folk to at least maintain some sense of order here, even if it means keeping financial statements in check," the female turian sighed, apparently having had this conversation before. "Like I said, the soldiers do their jobs on the frontlines while we work to sustain the war economy."

"Hey, Mirash! Isn't your brother in the salarian military or something? It's looking pretty bad out there, isn't it?" Bronne called out to him.

With that said, he found himself subjected to the spotlight in a conversation that he'd sooner avoid. Bronne wasn't wrong though – Mireen was in the STG – and the last he'd heard from his brother was two weeks ago. Even then, he could tell the situation was dire; if his brother's distraught demeanor in the transmission was anything to go by. The silence that followed since then was probably a better indication.

Ignoring Bronne was sure to earn the ire of his more hot-headed colleague, so he thought it best to at least indulge him in conversation. He took a deep breath. "Yes, it quite is. I've had a vid chat with my brother almost a fortnight ago, and what little he could tell me pretty much agreed with what most major news outlet are already telling us. Things aren't looking good at all."

"You see, Lyrixia? What's the point of sitting here when the rest of the galaxy's going to hell all around us? I'd rather go out contributing to the war effort than die here with regrets at my own desk," Bronne blurted out before continuing, "Hell, I almost got my wish when Cerberus shot up the place!" As soon as the words left his mouth, Bronne's eyes widened with regret as did Lyrixia's upon realizing that Mirash was still in the room.

Cerberus. Hearing it uttered by a fellow coworker dredged up that waking nightmare to the forefront of his memory. Through his mind's eye, details from that horrific day played itself out in perfect clarity. He could still hear the gunshots renting the air; the screams of confusion and terror as armed Cerberus troopers stormed into the building; and then the vicious firefight that followed with C-Sec personnel. And as luck would have it, a trooper pulled him out of hiding, shoved the barrel of his rifle into his face and was mere moments away from ending his life before C-Sec intervened. Suddenly, the room felt too small for him; he found it awfully difficult to breathe and he felt sick to the core of his very being.

"Hey, Mirash, I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to – " Bronne made to apologize but he cut off him before he got any further.

"If you'll excuse me, I-I need some fresh air," he managed to gasp before stumbling towards the exit.

He could feel the eyes of his concerned coworkers on his back as he unsteadily wended his way out but he paid it little mind. Fighting through the dizziness, all he could think of was getting out of this wretched place to clear his head.

"Hey, Mirash, everything okay there?" Stefanie shot a worried glance at him as he passed by her desk. "You're not looking too good."

"No need for concern, I-I'm fine!" he replied before stepping through the doors and out into the soothing expanse of greenery and lakes that was the Presidium.

He found a little bench nested away in a secluded area of the Presidium and it took him great pains to just sit down and stop the world from spinning. As the nausea passed, Bronne's words stuck in his mind, especially one word in particular: regrets. By virtue of his species' photographic memory, his mind played back all those moments which he'd wished he could have gone back and changed. An extra day's work on his final thesis at the university; the accepting of that offer from Eldfield-Ashland….and that night out on the patio with Stephanie.

Suddenly, he found himself seized by some unnatural frenzy as he shot to his feet. With his pulse still racing, he stormed off back into his office.

"Stephanie, i-if I could ask a favor of you?" he asked, no demanded.

"Sure?" her eyes narrowed slightly in apprehension and confusion.

"If you would please come with me? I think there's something the both of us would like to see."

He didn't even wait for her reply as he strode towards the nearest Rapid Transit cab with a purpose in his steps. Stephanie got in soon after he did, no doubt curious enough as to forgo lunch to accompany him. After hacking his way to override security protocols and enabling manual control, he keyed in the coordinates that both were familiar with.

"Y-you can't be serious about this!" she turned to look at him with a mix of surprise and excitement.

He remained silent, keeping his attention fixed on the road straight ahead lest he lose whatever burst of insanity or courage that coursed through him. The ride upwards was short enough and before long, the skycar deposited the two of them at the top of the Presidium, on one of the skybridges overlooking the waters of the lakes below.

"H-holy shit, Mirash! Are you actually serious on doing this?" she gasped, her voice giddy with elation and fear. She peered over the edge and gave a little yelp as she clung on to his arm for dear life.

What are you doing?! The voice of caution and reason that had dogged him his entire life sounded awfully quiet amidst the gusting winds and the pounding of his heart in his ears. You're breaking the law up here! Get down there this instant! The voice was yelling now, he could tell, but it seemed so distant. Besides, he had to admit, it felt exhilarating to be up here. Societal mores and conventions be damned; having casted off those shackles, it was the first time ever since the war started that he truly felt – for lack of better words – free and alive.

"That night on the patio. You remember, don't you?" he turned to Stephanie, his eyes steely with resolve or just madcap insanity, he couldn't quite tell anymore.

"Yeah, but I never thought you'd actually meant it!"

"Well, I meant every single word of it. I'd never quite found the right moment to act on it…until now."

They both locked gazes, and her mouth eventually curled up into a roguish grin. "So, on three?" He merely nodded.

"Three…."

"Two….."

"One….."

He thought he'd put up a better fight, but his feet didn't need much convincing to push himself off solid ground. The two plummeted, weightlessness seizing hold of them both. He could hear Stephanie's shrill voice beside him as she screamed in ecstasy, her limbs flailing wildly. He let himself do the same as well – expelling his voice…and all the regrets from his physical being.

The water rushed up to greet him. He plunged feet first into the lukewarm liquid and submerged below the surface, everything felt right in the world.

A dutiful Urandir would rather be caught in his grave than shirk his responsibilities.

As far as he was concerned, he too, had a responsibility to himself. He had to savor whatever he had left of life's gift in these uncertain days.

Well, do let me know what you think. This was a pretty fun write and I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as well!