Fourth chapter out! YAY :D

Changes have been made, some cheesy stuff have been removed, and actual consequences of nomming a rocket are introduced.

No Longer Whole

The world slowly returned, the fuzziness accompanied by the sound of an iv-drop and a heart-rate monitor. Thomas stirred, feeling a numbness in every cell of his body. Everything was dark, though he quickly realized through the no-doubt drug-induced fog, that this was caused by his eyes being shut.

Yet, he didn't immediately feel like opening them.

What… happened?

He remembered fleeing the colony, carrying Hillary and Ashley. He remembered running uphill, desperately trying to outrun the Geth. Gods, the Geth. They're real. They're actually fucking real. They're real and they…Thor's mercy, they killed everyone!

The realization was like a bullet to the chest. Thomas gasped, fighting down the sobs when he realized that everyone, the people he had come to see as friends and comrades, had all been killed. Donkey, Jimmy, Bates, Bolin and Mikhail, they were all dead. The Geth had killed them all, along with the people in Constant. Everyone. EVERYONE! They killed everyone and I couldn't do shit!

"Miss Williams?" someone said a name, one he only dimly realized was important to him. It wasn't his own name though, but rather that of an important person. Something scraped against metal to his side, followed by a deep, exhausted sigh of relief.

Thomas still didn't feel like opening his eyes. If he did, it would mean he had to acknowledge everything that had happened. So instead, he simply remained as he was, clenching his fists as his breathing came out in ragged gasps and croaks.

"Thank God, I thought…I didn't know if…"

"He was lucky, that much we can agree on." The first voice, the one thanking God, he knew. He knew it was a person he cared for, but couldn't make out the definitive importance through the mixture of grief and whatever drugs were running through his systems; "For now, I think we should simply let him rest."

"Right, I…didn't mean to…Would it be trouble if I remained here?" the voice he knew asked. Thomas didn't want to cause trouble, and didn't want to be subjugated to whatever awaited him when he opened his eyes, so he simply decided to listen, and calm down.

"Not at all." The new voice replied; "I understand how you feel, even if I might not know what you're thinking. People under your command are injured, it is only natural that you feel responsible for what happened. Regardless of whether or not you are."

"Doctor, he took a rocket to save us." the voice, the woman he knew pressed. Her face was starting to register in his mind, clearing somewhat through the mist of painkillers. Right, he could recognize painkillers in his systems because of…because of…He didn't know, just that they were painkillers; "If I hadn't insisted on…If I hadn't been shot, he wouldn't have had to."

"Well then, I suppose you should blame the Geth, not yourself, Miss Williams." There was something amounting to admonishing in the other's tone. It sounded older than the woman he…knew. He knew the first, the youngest of the speakers. Lightly tanned face, brown eyes, black hair, armor... Ashley!

Ashley had made it. He had in the very least managed to save one of his fellow soldiers. The relief was like a wave, rolling over his body with sensations of tenseness being released, and the knot in his chest started dissipating.

"I…Sorry, I'm just…Everything went so deep to Hell, I'm not sure what to do." Ashley replied, a ragged edge to her voice. More than anything, Thomas wanted to sit up and take the blame, regardless of whether or not he could have actually prevented anything.

"It is perfectly fine. Do you want something to drink, by any chance?" the other voice asked again. Thomas started to recognize it as a voice he had heard before, though he was not sure when or where. There was a confused 'hmm?' from Ashley, somewhere to his close right, followed by a very meek chuckle; "You haven't moved from that chair since we brought you onboard, Chief Williams. It's been more than twelve hours already, and you haven't slept yet, if the logs are to be believed."

"…I don't want to close my eyes." The reply came out bitterly and full of regret; "I'd like some coffee, if that's possible?"

"Hmm, certainly." There was a positive note in the 'hmm', something Thomas recognized. He still didn't know where from though, which frustrated him enough that he seriously considered just opening his eyes. But he also didn't want to interrupt. It seemed like something that would be rude, somehow.

Something liquid started flowing, and he could smell caffeine in the air. Someone was making coffee, and the smell simultaneously sent his mouth watering and had a mild headache pierce his consciousness.

"Careful, it's still hot."

"Thank you…" hesitation followed Ashley's words; "What's…what's going to happen to us now? Their injuries aren't…" she seemed to swallow the last words, and Thomas felt a cold hand of dread when he processed the word 'their'. Either she was saying he had somehow also sustained a critical injury, or maybe Shepard had been wounded. Or maybe the Quarian he had seen? Maybe I just thought I saw a Quarian. Tali never came to Eden Prime, and what would anyone but Alliance soldiers be…

"It's hard to say, really." The other voice – he recognized it now as someone he knew from memory, meaning it had to be someone Shepard had known too. It was a woman, and Ashley had addressed her as 'doctor'. Thomas only knew of one doctor Shepard had been around, at least only one medicinal doctor; "Miss Pennyloafer's injuries are primarily sustained by her nervous system, and the armor spared her spinal cord and organs any damage."

"And…him?"

"The armor seems to have broken most of the fall, thank goodness. The burns I have treated the best I could, but the leg…I'm sorry, but there are things we just cannot repair in a med bay like ours." Chakwas – he recognized the voice now as Karin Chakwas, which meant he was most likely on the Normandy. Oddly enough, the realization wasn't nearly as baffling as he'd have once thought it to be – sighed. Thomas stirred, feeling as well as hearing his heartrate speed up when his leg was mentioned.

"What's wrong with my leg?" he spoke before he was even aware of having done do, and caused all conversation to drop instantly. Before he could even open his eyes or fully sit, someone had grabbed his shoulders and pressed him back down, though it was done gently. When he opened his eyes, he could see the regret- and grief-stricken face of Ashley, hovering just a few inches above his. Her eyes were red, and her cheeks bore cuts already healed. None of it served to lessen his anxiety; "Chief, what's wrong with my leg?"

"F- Thomas, please, lie still." It was the first time she had used his name since before he officially joined the squad, and the impact left him stunned enough that he simply complied. Pain was etched all across his superior's face, yet it wasn't physical pain. It was pain born from sympathy. Which didn't make him feel even remotely better.

"Chief?" his unspoken question was now more panicked. Ashley averting her eyes, if however briefly, didn't help the issue; "Chief?"

"You saved our lives, Thomas." It wasn't what he needed to hear. He needed to hear what was wrong with his leg, not that he had saved lives; "I'll…I'll make sure we fix it. We're going to the Citadel to treat Hillary, we can treat you there too."

"Fucking Tell Me What's Wrong With My Leg!" he hadn't meant to shout like he did, and the pained expression on Ashley's face made him wince. He just wanted to know what was wrong with his leg, since she was actively holding him down so he couldn't even see it.

"Private Thomas Fisher?" Chakwas made herself noticed now, and Thomas looked at her. Grey hair, medical bodysuit and a grandmotherly expression of concern on her face. She looked exactly like he had always imagined her. He forced himself to nod; "My name is Karin Chakwas. I am the medical officer onboard the SSV Normandy. I need to tell you something important, and I need you to remain calm when I say it. Will you do that?"

Not a 'can you', but a 'will you'. It was nice at least that he wasn't being patronized. Some doctors did that. So he nodded, feeling Ashley's hands slacken on his shoulders.

"First of all, you need to understand that Chief Williams speaks the truth: What you did was heroic, and as a result of your actions, you saved two people from death." Chakwas said. Thomas just stared, currently unable to think of himself as 'heroic', considering his secrecy had led to everything and everyone dying. Still, he nodded, noting that it made Ashley release a huff of relief and exhaustion; "Saving Ashley and Hillary, however, was done at personal cost. We believe that, while your shields managed to spare you the shrapnel of the explosion, as well as the main impact, the kinetic force was still enough that you…did not escape unharmed."

"Please, just tell me." he groaned.

"The explosion tore off your left leg below the knee." Chakwas' voice was both gentle and soothing, yet did nothing to dull the impact of what she had said. Thomas sat up, forcing his way through Ashley with a strength she seemingly did not expect.

There, below the waist, he could see his right leg, stripped of shoe and sock, but whole and intact with the exception of some cuts and a bruise.

To its left, the leg ended at the knee.

"Oh gods…" he whispered, feeling his lungs compress into his throat. Ashley then simply stood back, evidently uncertain of what to do with herself. Thomas hardly saw her. The entirety of his attention was focused on the stump where his left shin and foot should have been; "Oh gods no…no…no…no…no-no-no-no-no-no…"

Thomas felt like throwing up, yet couldn't even gag.

"I'm sorry." He couldn't even make out which of the persons in the room was the one apologizing. He grasped at the stump, clawing with bandaged hands – had he broken fingers too? he couldn't feel them if that was the case – at the sealed and healed stump of hardened gel and synthetic skin.

It was wrong. It was wrong and offensive and wrong and sickening and wrong and wrong, wrong, Wrong!

No one else spoke for however long he sat there, grabbing at the stump. Or, maybe someone did speak, and he just didn't register it. Ashley hadn't moved, and Chakwas had pulled up a chair and datapad both. She hadn't made a move to engage him though.

After some time, Ashley spoke, though she might have repeated it, as it sounded strained;

"We'll…The Alliance can... can fix…they'll help you, Thomas." It sounded most of all like she was pleading for it to be true. Thomas fixed her with a stare, one he wasn't even fully conscious off. He didn't speak, and neither did she. Had he glared? He hoped not. Ashley didn't deserve to be glared at: she wasn't the one who'd taken his leg.

"…How?" he asked quietly, looking at the thing that was no longer his leg. It was just a stump; "How?"

"…I…"

"Excuse me, is…this a bad time?" Ashley trailed off and looked towards the entrance to the medbay. Thomas did the same, briefly forgetting about his leg upon seeing his first true alien. Not just that, but the fact that he managed to recognize it as an alien he remembered for a fact should be dead.

"Spectre Kryik, I…No, it's fine." Ashley visibly swallowed some emotion Thomas couldn't be bothered to identify. Right now, his mind was torn between grieving and denying everything that had happened, and disbelief at seeing Nihlus Kryik enter the medbay. Alive, unharmed…What.

"…How are things?" he seemed far more cordial than Thomas remembered. There was an unexpected humility to the Turian's voice, something that just did not make sense.

"Chief Williams is more or less unharmed. The injury to her leg was relatively easy to mend, as long as she does not strain it." Chakwas said, casting a glance at Ashley as she said the last words. Ashley didn't even look annoyed. Something else was occupying her thoughts, that much at least Thomas could see; "Private Pennyloafer likewise is out of danger, but remains in need of proper care."

"Which will be available to her when we arrive at the Citadel." Nihlus nodded, as if to himself. Then he looked at someone at the back of the room. Thomas hadn't even looked in that direction yet. When he did, his mind ordered the eyes to do a double-take, as there clearly was a Quarian on one of the beds. He or she was dressed in a navy-blue suit, and that was about all the details he could make out; "How is he? Any changes?"

"No, none so far." Chakwas shook her head; "I'm monitoring vital signs, pulse and brain-activity. Aside from abnormal beta-waves, nothing seems out of the ordinary."

"Good…" when Nihlus finally looked at Thomas, there was shame painted on the Turian's face. It was as clear as his white markings, and screamed of regret "Private Fish? How…I see you've awoken."

Fisher. He wanted to say Fisher.

"Fisher woke up just minutes ago." Chakwas supplied. Nihlus seemed to wince just barely when he realized the name had been wrong; "We were debating what to do about his injury when you entered."

"Fisher." He seemed to chew on the name, remembering it; "Have you been told who was behind the attack?"

"The Geth." he wanted to scream it was Saren, but knew that saying something he had no real way of knowing, was only going to make things harder; "They killed everyone."

"...Yes, it was…I don't see the point in denying this, since Captain Anderson is no-doubt on his way to see you." the Turian breathed deeply, mandibles going closer to his mouth; "The attack was orchestrated by a Council Spectre, far as I have discerned."

"Saren Arterius." The name came out before he could stop it. It was laced with a venom Thomas wasn't even aware he had the capacity to form. If Nihlus in any way was surprised that Thomas had named his former mentor, he didn't let it show; "I know he was on Eden Prime. Did you kill him?"

"Saren…escaped. I narrowly escaped death at his hands, though…I still cannot fathom what could drive him to do this."

"He's an Arterius, Kryik." Ashley ground out, her tone becoming hard.

"True though that may be, it doesn't explain the attack, nor why he tried to kill me." Nihlus sighed; "Regardless, we will inform the Council when we arrive at the Citadel. If Saren has gone rogue, and controls the Geth, I don't trust communications other than directly with the Council."

Thomas stared back down at his leg, then at the Spectre. He still had some trouble wrapping his head around the fact that he was looking at a real alien, a sentient non-human. It wasn't made any less mindboggling by the fact that Nihlus wasn't supposed to be alive.

Something had happened. Something that had thrown the original line of events off.

"He tried to kill you?" he finally asked. Nihlus nodded;

"I encountered him near the dig-site. When I turned my back, he drew a gun on me." when the Turian then looked at the still Quarian, Thomas started feeling a new knot in his stomach. Something else was wrong, something aside from Nihlus being here; "I only survived because of Shepard's intervention."

"Shepard?"

"Jon'Shepard, to be precise." Kryik gestured at the unconscious or sleeping Quarian, and Thomas felt like something snapped. Like a string or a rubber band in his brain had just been pulled an inch too far; "Saren managed to escape, but we prevented him from destroying the colony."

"…Jon'Shepard?" it just didn't sound right.

"I'm assuming he's an exile, or descendant of an exile." Nihlus said. Thomas, meanwhile, had a headache on the way; "He's a biotic, which should exclude him being born on their Migrant fleet."

"I didn't think…I didn't think Quarians could be biotics."

"It's rare, but there are recorded examples. Never from their fleet, though." The Turian shifted his attention when aforementioned Quarian began to stir; "Doctor, is he waking up?"

"Slowly, but yes, I believe he might be coming about." Chakwas replied, making her way to where Jon'Shepard was moving a hand to his faceplate. Thomas, grounded as he was to the bed, simply sat straight and stared.

There was so much wrong with today. He prayed it was all just a messed up dream brought forth by his own guilty consciousness.

"Uhhrr… what happened"

"Shepard, how do you feel?" Chakwas asked, putting a hand on the alien's shoulder. Thomas just stared, only stopping when he felt a hand touch his right arm. Ashley still hadn't moved, but had instead remained at his side, somehow. She seemed more tired now than before, but also slightly more at ease. The hand stayed on his arm, something Thomas was not mentally prepared for. It almost seemed protective, though he couldn't understand why.

"…Doctor Chakwas? I… remember you. The marines from Eden Prime, did they…?" he turned towards the two of them, a sag going through him. It was so unnatural to see aliens, Thomas was still just trying to keep his expression calm. Also he probably looked like shit, still reeling from the shock of a leg less than when he'd gotten up in the morning; "…I saw you go down, throwing Williams and Hilarly aside."

No one commented on his butchering of Hillary's name. It seemed to be a tendency with aliens and human names, apparently.

"You…so…I thought I saw a Quarian when…but, that was you?" Thomas sighed, rubbing his palm over his eyes. Unconsciousness didn't equal sleep, and he felt like shit now that the adrenaline was leaving his systems again.

"Yes. The sound of gunfire drew me to your location." Jon'Shepard – it was unnaturally creepy that his name was a Quarian version of the human Shepard's name. Also, where was Shepard? – gave a small, weak chuckle at his own words; "…Good thing too, or you'd probably be dead now."

"But…You're…you're…"

"A Quarian?" Shepard asked, tilting his head just enough that it negated the small irritation in his voice. Or maybe it was just the translator in Thomas' ear having taken damage. He shook his head at the question;

"One person. How…how could one person just...We lost everyone, and you just…what, hacked your way through?" he hadn't meant for the last part to come out so bitterly, but fact of the matter was, so many had died while this one Quarian hadn't. Even if Nihlus had been there, he couldn't see how that was possible.

"It might come as a surprise, but I'm not the most…competent, when it comes to technology. Best I can do is hack an Omnitool." Jon said, then held up a fist. A second passed by, and it glowed a deep, pulsating purple. Right, biotics actually existed. Shit, that was going to take some time getting used to; "I've always relied on my biotics, which might be why I neglected the tech-sessions. Biotics more or less guaranteed me a spot with the Fleet Marines, hacking or not."

"Marines?" Chakwas was the first to ask; "I didn't think the Migrant fleet could produce biotics."

"I'm…a bit of a special case." He admitted, and then said no more. Thomas could feel the hand on his arm tighten just a bit, and wondered if there was something he wasn't being told. He hoped not; patience had taken a back-seat when his left leg had been ripped off.

"Well, physically you're alright." Chakwas noted; "I did notice some abnormal Beta-waves when I checked your brain-activity, but nothing serious. Different species react differently to head-trauma; some experience lucid dreams, though as very little medical history really exists on your people, I'm afraid I don't have a lot to compare against."

"What happened with the colony?" Thomas asked, looking from Nihlus to Jon, then to Chakwas; "And not to look a gift horse in the…mouth, I guess, but…"

He didn't know how to finish that sentence, and thus simply let the words hang in the air.

"The colony itself is more or less intact." Nihlus said; "the colonists who managed to hide in their homes were seemingly ignored. As for the garrison, however…I am sorry, but you were the only soldiers we found alive. The rest were…dead, or worse."

"…worse?" he feared with all his being that he knew what Nihlus meant, but hoped he was wrong. Imagining the people he had come to know and work alongside with, both Dog Squad, but also Saber, Bravo, Foxtrot and the rest of the 212th, turned into husks…it made him want to throw up.

"The Geth deployed some sort of spikes…" the Spectre began. Ashley's hand tightened again, and it started to actually hurt.

"They stuck people on them like meat." She growled, then let go when Thomas winced and she became aware of her hand; "God as my witness, they mutated human beings into…some kind of…walking dead."

"Nanotechnology, most likely." Nihlus added; "Still, it doesn't make sense for the Geth to suddenly come out past the Perseus Veil, much less to follow an organic like Saren."

"Saren's a manipulative bastard, I wouldn't put this past him." No one had heard the doors open, but Thomas knew that voice. Even as he turned his head to look, the sound of shoes on metal signaled David Anderson's entrance. The man looked like he'd had the worst day of the worst week in his life, a perpetual scowl marring his expression; "If I could have a moment with the marines?"

"Of course, Captain." Chakwas nodded. Jon'Shepard swung his legs over the side of the bed, then followed the doctor as she left the medbay. Nihlus paused at the door;

"I'll be in the CIC, Anderson."

"I'll see you there, then." Anderson nodded, watching Nihlus leave before he turned back to Thomas and Ashley; "I should introduce myself first. I am Captain David Anderson of the SSV Normandy."

"Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212th, Sir."

"…Private Thomas Fisher of the 212th, Sir…" he just didn't have the energy left in him to stand at attention, much less actually stand; "Sir, could I ask…why you are here?"

"You know about the Beacon the colony found?" Anderson asked. Thomas nodded, he did know they'd found it, and he knew what it was. He also knew Saren had been after it, and knew Commander Shepard was supposed to have been in contact with it; "The Normandy's mission here was to extract the Beacon and bring it to the Citadel. Then we arrived in the system, and immediately got pinged by a distress signal."

"You…got our signal?" Thomas wasn't sure why he was surprised. Mikhail had been a far more competent marine than him, so of course he'd managed to get a message out while under heavy fire. And now he was dead.

"Yes, but unfortunately the Normandy doesn't carry a large marine detail." The Captain sighed in frustration; "We sent down Commander Dawson with the rest of the detail. The Geth killed them."

Commander Dawson. Not Commander Shepard.

Thomas sat back, struggling to breathe. He was panicking, and even though he knew he shouldn't, that it wouldn't solve anything, he couldn't stop. The air was coming down in too short and ragged gasps, and his chest couldn't expand properly.

"Thomas." Ashley grabbed him by the shoulder again, pressing the other palm against his chest; "Breathe. Slowly. Take a long, deep breath, and exhale. Long deep breath, and exhale."

"First time in action?" he hardly registered Anderson's question, and hoped he wasn't supposed to answer. He could barely breathe, even though Ashley's instructions helped. His superior nodded grimly, then looked at him with an expression of deep sympathy.

"Thomas was only transferred from the EFEC last week."

"EFEC?" Anderson looked from Ashley to him; "…from the Scandinavian Union?"

"Yes, Sir." He managed to get out. He'd found out enough about what seemed to be some sort of alternate history that he knew his supposed background. Kalmar Union troops were soldiers from all over Scandinavia, including Iceland and Finland. It had been an invigorating discovery when he'd found it, but now…he wasn't sure. It felt like he was lying even though he wasn't; "I'm sorry, I can't…I just need a moment…"

"Take your time, son." Anderson took the chair Chakwas had used, and sat down. Thomas nodded rapidly, taking as slow and deep breaths as he could manage. Shepard wasn't on the Normandy, had never been on the Normandy. Instead, the Normandy's commander had been a man named Dawson, and the only Shepard he'd met so far was a biotic Quarian.

The universe was fucked up. And he felt like he might be to blame.

"Sir, about what happened with the Beacon…" Ashley started. Anderson held up a hand to stop her, which it did.

"What happened with the Prothean Beacon stays between the few of us, for now. Nihlus knows, Jon'Shepard knows, and you know, Chief Williams." He said, casting a short glance at the closed door. Thomas knew it led to the mess hall, even if he couldn't see it; "Private Fisher, I'm going to give you the short version, on the condition that you keep it to yourself. Aside from Dawson's second in command, no one are to know what happened. Am I clear?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good." The Captain ran a hand across his short-cropped, dark head; "Nihlus Kryik, Jon'Shepard and Chief Ashley Williams fought their way through the Geth and encountered the Prothean Beacon. Due to…unforeseen circumstances, Shepard somehow activated the Beacon. Normally, direct contact with Prothean Beacons can leave the subject a vegetable. Somehow, he survived with his mind intact."

"I read somewhere that Beacons imprint people with data, somehow…" Thomas looked between the two of them; "…did that actually happen to him?"

"That's a new one." Anderson huffed, though he did not sound like he immediately dismissed it; "it could explain Chakwas' report on Shepard's brainwaves. I'll have a talk with him when we're done here."

"…Sir?"

"Yes, Fisher?" Thomas tried not to react when Anderson called him by name. It felt extremely unreal.

"What's…going to happen? Now, I mean, with Saren and everything and us?" he didn't want to verbally acknowledge the lack of a leg. Not if he could help it.

Anderson straightened his back, hands flat on his knees.

"First, we're going to the Citadel. The Council will be informed of Saren's actions, and he will be stripped of his Spectre status. Then, someone will go after him, bring him back and put him on trial." The Captain sounded like it was a rehearsed statement rather than the actual truth, though Thomas knew better than to dig in it when a superior officer called a case closed; "Eventually repairs will be made, likely by the Citadel, since Saren's a Spectre."

"I hope so, Sir."

"…how's the leg, son?" somehow, 'son' didn't sound at all patronizing when it came from Anderson. The man probably had experience dealing with traumatized marines his age. Traumatized marines…I belong there now, don't I?

Thomas just looked down at his stump. He brought his hands underneath the covers so Anderson wouldn't see him clench them white.

"…missing, Sir."

Anderson looked like he wanted to laugh, but at the same time knew it would be extremely unprofessional and inconsiderate, so he simply huffed;

"Yes…yes, it does seem like that." The Captain mused; "How does it feel?"

"…Stings a bit, Sir." It was probably the antiseptics. He could definitely smell them.

"I suppose it would, wouldn't it?" Anderson seemed to be examining the stump. It made Thomas feel more self-conscious, but ultimately he knew the man was just trying to make it seem less catastrophic. He even realized that he knew what the Captain was going to say next; "That's quite the wound."

"…Beauty, isn't it?"

"…that's…" Ashley was confused.

"Any idea how it happened?" Anderson continued, just a streak of amusement at his eyes.

"…Sir?" Ashley started, both looking and sounding like she couldn't believe her ears. In truth, Thomas couldn't quite believe his own, either, but for a probably different reason.

"None whatsoever, complete mystery to me." Thomas quipped, feeling just a little bit of good mood returning. From the look on the Captain's face, they both knew what was going on. Anderson was good at this; "I woke up just now, one sock too many."

"Huh…been at wars, have we?"

"…Yes." It wasn't nearly as funny when it wasn't on a screen, though. Anderson nodded, examining the stump again. This time, Thomas didn't feel as self-conscious as before.

"Yes, yes…yes, yes, yes…Yes, well, this is nothing to worry about." The man said; "Keep warm, plenty of rest, and if you play soccer, try and favor the other leg."

"…What are you talking about?" Ashley halfway demanded.

"So…it'll just…grow out again, will it?" Thomas had to finish. He knew it was unprofessional, irritated Ashley and no-doubt stole the Captain's valuable time. Then again, how often did one find out an Alliance Captain could recite Monty Python?

Anderson's face grew serious, and Thomas knew the "jokes" were over.

"The Alliance takes care of its own, Private. Chakwas informed me that you were to be given a temporary prosthesis until she could requisition a proper bionic limb." Anderson said, resting his chin on the top of his folded hands; "Seeing how replacement-limbs have a near-zero percent risk of impairing your mobility, and considering your personal involvement in Eden Prime's attack, I'd like to offer both of you a place on the Normandy."

Thomas nearly fell from the bed, only stopped from doing so by Ashley's hands grabbing his shoulders. Both stared at Anderson, unable to believe what he had said, but for different reasons. Ashley, likely because she had never seen it coming, and Thomas because he hadn't considered himself anywhere good enough to be a candidate.

"Sir?"

"Both of you have respectable service-records," except Thomas' was forged; "- training and a score to settle. As I understand it, the 212th was more or less wiped out, otherwise leaving you stranded until the Alliance would find something else. I recently lost three good marines on your planet, so I'm offering to be that 'something else'."

"Njord's balls, is this…Sir, do you mean it?"

"I do. The offer does however mean that your stations will have to be reprocessed from garrison standard to navy marine detail. So your pay will not be as high. It's the best I can offer."

"Yes." Thomas declared, sitting as straight as he could; "Sir, Captain Anderson, nothing would be a greater honor than to serve on the Normandy."

"Glad to hear it. Chief Williams?"

"Yes Sir. Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams reporting for duty." Thomas could feel just a little bit of a smile creeping over his face at that. Ashley's voice held determination and a thirst for vengeance. He hoped his own was similar.

"Welcome onboard then, Chief Williams, Private Fisher." The Captain stood; "I'll have a talk with Shepard in the meantime. The Normandy operates on a skeleton crew, so there should be a few bunks to choose from in the crew-quarters. Food and equipment will be covered, pay extends to your shore leaves and I'll see to it that your Omnitools get the necessary documents addressed."

Then he left, leaving Thomas and Ashley alone in the medbay, with only the unconscious Hillary on a bed at the opposite wall.

And Ashley slumped. Thomas turned, more concerned than surprised at that. He would have been surprised if she had just handled everything as well as she had in the game, but he wasn't sure if this was better or worse.

"Chief, are you okay?"

"…coming from the guy missing a leg."

"Just worried…you seemed…" he trailed off when she sighed;

"Yes, I'm just fine. It's just…." She sighed, and then looked at him. "I don't know... I just, I feel like I wasted too much time when we stopped to check Bravo's corpses… If we hadn't, maybe more would have survived, maybe… I just didn't want to really see it. I even blamed a scared dockworker, an unarmed civilian that he hadn't fought back. How? I was so eager to tell myself that this wasn't my fault, but I still feel like it was. And yet, I was ready to blame it all on the first person I saw. I almost blamed Shepard for the entire attack, simply because he was there, and didn't manage to save everyone… even when an entire garrison of soldiers couldn't." She looked at Thomas in a way he'd never seen on her face before. It was a look of complete regret, of guilt, shame and sorrow.

She must have known a lot of the people living on Eden Prime. And to see them massacred, or turned into husks? The thought was nauseating. "And then, we had to fall back, and our team started dying, and… we just left Bolin and Jim."

"…Chief"

"And when the rocket came at us, you didn't even care about your own safety. Hillary was unconscious, I was hurt and couldn't keep fighting, but you could have dropped me and gone back down the hill."

The missing leg would have made that one more than a little problematic. Thomas wasn't going to bring up that point, however, because he was fairly sure Ashley was well aware of it. She was just trying to find ways they could have saved the others.

She was trying to find ways in which she had failed.

"Ashley…" she was taking this hard, harder than she had let anyone see until now. Or, maybe she had only hidden it from the others while he'd been awake. Thomas was tired, and honestly felt more than anything like simply going to sleep. But he also knew that Ashley needed someone to tell her that she was wrong.

"I could only watch as the only person besides Hillary whom I knew had survived the attack… got himself blown up. Just to protect us." He had a feeling that if he didn't stop her soon, she was going to work herself into tears. Thomas didn't know what by Hel was going on, with foreign emotions shooting through him, the anger, the fear, the need to help and comfort this woman, even if she was superior to him in all ways… he didn't know what it was.

"Ashley- Chief, listen to me."

She stopped, and looked at him. This was when Thomas realized two things. One: he was holding her by the shoulders, in a manner no military would condone, and two: he had no idea what to say now.

The silence stretched on for almost half a minute, each looking awkwardly at the other, then averting their eyes. It was almost an unspoken agreement until he came up with something;

"Listen…I can't exactly claim that this wasn't the first time I've ever been in a real combat situation, but if there is one thing I know, it is that if it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't be sitting here right now. I didn't save you and Hillary, you did, when you kept a cool head and gave orders even after finding Bravo." Despite his awkwardness and the lingering shock of being crippled yet again, Thomas allowed himself a short chuckle, smiling with his teeth; "Anyone else would have shit their pants and stayed away from the colony."

"And they'd still be alive if we'd done that…" she looked at his hands, though he couldn't from her expression gauge if she wanted them to stay there or let go.

"Maybe…or maybe the Geth would have scoured the hills until they'd killed everything in a ten mile radius of the colony." He let go of her, letting his hands dangle uselessly, then opted for simply resting them on his thighs; "Point is, your first move was to ensure the safety of the colony. Training doesn't make you do that, character and determination makes you do that…and I probably sound really stupid right now, but…Shit, Chief, we'd all be dead if it wasn't for you. I just got you from A to Z, that's all."

"…you should've been a shrink." She grumbled, followed by a short pause in which she simply opted to punch him in the shoulder. Thomas winced, but didn't say anything; he figured she might have something else on her mind. There was, but she was clearly reluctant to say it; "I…don't agree, that I couldn't have done more, but…Thanks, for trying. I appreciate it."

Then she hugged him. It was short, light and more just touching shoulders than an actual embrace, but still, it left Thomas stunned. Even when Ashley leant back, his face was flush-red, and his missing foot phantom-curled in agitation along with its counterpart.

"Well…ehm…" he stammered, blinking at the unexpected action. Ashley just stood from where she had briefly dumped herself on his sickbed.

"I'm going to grab some coffee, if there's a machine nearby." She said, turned and started leaving. She stopped by the door, though, and looked back. Thomas hadn't taken his eyes off her for even a second; "I'll grab you a cup too, you know, if you stop staring at me like that."

"I…didn't mean to stare. Sorry."

"It's fine. At least it's positive attention…I'll see if I can find out when we're at the Citadel." She said, smiled and then left before he could reply.

Alone in the medbay – except for Hillary, but being unconscious, could she be counted as company? – Thomas rested back against the bed's railing. He was tired, so very deeply tired. He'd lost a lot of blood, most likely, when his leg had been torn apart, and the iv-drop could only refill him so fast.

He could still feel where Ashley had hugged him, regardless of how light it had been. His skin seemed to be imprinted with the sensation, and closing his eyes, he could imagine her doing it again. It sent tingling buzzes down his spine – he was very much happy to not have broken thát – and down his arms and leg. His five remaining toes curled on their own, and everything kind of tickled, just a little. He sighed, smiling despite himself. Damn…I didn't see that coming…

He found out he'd fallen asleep when consciousness suddenly returned, and Chakwas was back at her desk, a cup of coffee was next to his bed on a self-heating plate of some sort, and the iv-drop in his arm had been changed with a new, fuller one.

Also there was a newcomer in the medbay, one who didn't seem like he needed medical attention. Dressed in a body-suit – so clearly fresh out of his armor – and asleep on the bed between his own and Hillary's, it took Thomas a lot of squinting to recognize Kaidan Alenko in the dimmed light of the medbay. Why is he in here?

Somehow, Chakwas knew Thomas was awake before he'd even made a sound. She'd turned in her chair before he'd even had a chance to open his mouth.

"Ah, you're awake." She seemed like it was more a question than a statement. When she followed his eyes to Kaidan, her smile became something closer to a frown; "Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko; he'll be your direct superior below the Captain."

"Is he…hurt?"

"I suppose you could call it that." Chakwas nodded as she stood and activated her Omnitool. She hovered it briefly above the unconscious – was he sleeping or just sedated? – lieutenant. When the data returned to her, she closed it down and nodded again; "Alenko is a LX3 biotic, which unfortunately puts him in the group of human biotics prone to severe migraines. Someone thought it was a good idea back then to just buy implants from the Asari without even running basic checks."

"Is it really bad?" he wasn't sure what else to ask. Biotics had never been a subject he'd focused much on, and he hadn't taken the time to read up on it while planetside; "He'll be fine again, right?"

"Oh yes, it's just a trivial matter of administering a fresh dose of his medicine." Chakwas had apparently done just that, somehow, when she had hovered the tool over the sleeping man; "It does, however, mean that humanity's biotic program is a few steps behind, mainly because of the implants. I think there's an update coming out sometime next year, the LX…4? Hopefully that will mean he can get a new implant, and we won't have to spend hours each week in the medbay."

"Right…" he sighed with no small amount of relief; "Glad I'm not a biotic then…my life's already one massive headache."

The last part was directed more at his missing leg than the doctor. Chakwas nodded, hummed and stood. There was a crate of some sort next to her, marked with 'fragile', 'this way up' and 'environmentally hurtful'. He wasn't completely sure about the last one.

"I had the armory make you a prosthesis while we're waiting for the actual model, by the way." When she opened the crate, something strongly resembling automail – of all things – came to view; "It's nowhere near sensitive enough for regular use, and will likely encumber your walk quite a bit, but it's better than a crutch or a wooden leg, wouldn't you say?"

"How…does it work?" he muttered with quite a bit of trepidation. Chakwas seemed to find something amusing, though she did not seem willing to reveal what.

"Let's put it on you first, then I'll show you."

Thomas – with some difficulty – found his way to the crew quarters about half an hour later. It was located on a floor he didn't remember from the first Normandy, between the Gallery and the Hangar, meaning there was an entire new deck he had never seen in the game. Lazy programming, probably…

Each second step he took gave off a metallic thud, only mostly muffled by the shoe Chakwas had helped him put on it. Though the initial connection had been painful when the nerves came in touch with the wiring of the metallic prosthesis, it helped when the doctor had applied some painkillers.

Still, it felt wrong to have something else there in place of his left foot. Automail or whatever they wanted to call it, this was metal, not flesh. No matter how advanced materials became, they couldn't make up for the sensitive skin they had replaced.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen, kids and adults of all ages: We're on course for the Serpent Relay, estimated time of arrival is three hours, whereafter we'll spend about ten minutes in-transit, and twenty minutes from the Relay to the Citadel. As always we ask that you follow the instructions of the stewardesses and refrain from kicking the seat in front of you."

Thomas stopped at the door to the crew quarters, at first expecting to see Seth Green behind him. He squashed the notion almost instantly, remembering whom the voice really belonged to. Joker was as casual as he remembered him, if this was anything to go by.

Good. It would be nice with at least one optimist on the ship.

"Ah, Fisher." The double-flanged voice was easier again to recognize. Thomas turned to see Nihlus watching him, having apparently just left the elevator; "I see the doctor replaced your leg."

"Kryik." If Nihlus was on a second-name base with him, he assumed the same was expected in return. To indicate the error of what the Turian had said, he shifted to rest on his own leg; "You can't really call a metal prosthesis a 'replacement', if you don't mind me saying so."

"Hmm, true." The Turian walked closer, and Thomas realized just how tall the alien was. Turians were taller than humans, that much was clear; "I wanted to request that you and Chief Williams are present when we meet with the Council."

"But we only saw Geth, and I didn't know Saren was on the colony until one of my team-mates mentioned it during the attack." The real reason was that he didn't want to spend any time whatsoever with the Councilors. He remembered them as being arrogant, stubborn and so set in their ways and beliefs that Sovereign linking itself to the tower hadn't convinced them at all. They were politicians, and he didn't much like politicians.

"Be that as it may, you are one of three surviving witnesses of the garrison, making you key-witnesses by virtue alone." His mandibles spread out just a little, and Thomas had no idea what it meant; "Even if you do not actually have to speak up, it would be best if the Council had access to all the witnesses available."

"…will it make them more inclined to lock Saren up?"

He honestly didn't believe that it would.

"My testimony and that of Williams' alone should be enough to have him found guilty." Nihlus said, a sense of regret and shame coloring his words; "Still, the more information, the better a perspective the Council will have on how to deal with this."

"I will do whatever I can to help."

"Good to hear it." the Turian nodded; "Now then, if you will excuse me, I need to find the Captain."

The new deck held more than just the crew quarters. It also held a brig, showers and a gym.

The gym was a sizable portion of the deck, with windows offering views at the drive-core powering the ship. The core was a massive beast of advanced science, and even those who had served on the ship since it was built sometimes stopped to admire the view. The gym itself, though, was mainly a flat area with hard-rubber floor and a few sets of equipment set up for general use. Everything heavy was bolted to the floor, with the exception of the hand-weights, all of which were currently fastened to a stand at the wall. Several mats of softer materials were set up in the middle, being either stretching- or sparring mats.

This was, unsurprisingly, where he found Ashley.

"Fisher." She greeted him roughly, though he wasn't surprised at that. She was in her underarmor uniform, which hugged her form tighter than a regular model would. It was really closer to a regular bodyglove than a set of clothes, which he pointedly refrained from pointing out.

She was also doing one-handed pushups without pause; "How's the leg?"

He briefly looked at hers, which was marked by a patched hole in the uniform's right thigh. She seemed to favor the other leg, which was no great surprise.

"Feels a bit weird…" he admitted, taking a seat on the floor next to her. When he felt that might be seen as a little weird too, he decided to start doing crunches. Those were exercises he could actually keep up while conversing; "How's yours?"

"Stiff. So. You've talked to Kryik?" her forehead was already covered in sweat, but her hair was still bundled impeccably behind her head. Thomas counted up to ten crunches before he took in a breath of air and nodded;

"Mm. He asked me to join the hearing against Saren." Gods, he was out of shape; "Said it would help the Council decide."

"Don't count on it." her reply was hard, yet not affected by her effort; "Council's always looking out for their own first. Human's are newcomers, we're seen as arrogant. brash. demanding. ignorant. Salarians try stealing secrets. Turians. Mostly. Despise us, after the First Contact War. The Asari just see us as a lesser race."

"Maybe you should use both arms?" he tried, receiving only a flat stare; "Never mind. Still, sounds a lot like how the United Nations used to run."

"Figured you to be a historian alright." It didn't sound like teasing, so he took it for what it was and just nodded; "Well, yeah, permanent board and all. Volus' been trying to – get on the Council for the past. Two-hundred years."

They kept up the exercise for another ten minutes. When Ashley shifted to two arms, Thomas knew she was just about done too. Because he definitely was. His stomach was giving him grief, and he hadn't actually eaten since breakfast in the garrison, however many hours ago that was now.

When done, Ashley swung herself up, using her hands as propellant. Thomas stared as she did so, unable to believe the strength in those arms of hers. They were muscular, yeah, but not that muscular. Probably genetic modifications.

He remembered that all Alliance soldier received them, but hadn't seen anywhere if the same was true for Union troops. He supposed it was something he should probably get checked up on, seeing as he was supposedly one himself.

"Hey, Chief?" he asked, struggling to get up. His new leg wasn't exactly helping. Ashley watched him in mild bemusement for a moment, then grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet; "Thanks. So…have you ever met others from the Scandinavian Union? Soldiers, I mean."

"A few, yeah…" she nodded and began walking, not turning to wait for him. Thomas cursed under his breath and jogged after her. At least the leg was made for basic movements, so he caught up easily; "Why?"

"Just wondered." He muttered, realizing that he didn't know enough about his "own" faction to inquire her on her knowledge. Still, there was one thing he could ask about; "I mean, was there ever any, uh, disagreements, like over religious matters?"

"You're asking whether or not I called them heathens?" she gave him a sharp, examining look. He hadn't meant that, and she seemed to realize that, her eyes returning to friendly once more; "But no, there never really was anything. They didn't make trouble for us, and I didn't make trouble for them. You guys don't exactly have a history of being religiously…fundamentalistic."

"Right, we're not really into the whole 'death to all non-believers' thing." He chuckled, then wanted to bite off his own tongue. Dammit, why hadn't he thought that one over before he said it?! "I mean, we've done our share of shit too, like with the Vikings."

"Assuming you're talking about the old-fashioned ones, yeah true, but that was fifteen-hundred years ago." She continued before he could ask what she meant by 'old-fashioned'. He could look that up later, he decided; "Christians still do that shit to this day."

"I thought Christians were peaceful since, you know, the Renascence and all?" he asked in surprise. Ashley looked at him oddly for a moment, then sighed; "What?"

"I guess you're not that much into history then."

SSV Normandy, CIC

Cockpit

14:31

"That…is a lot bigger than the vids showed" Jon muttered from his place in the cockpit. Thomas could only agree, seeing the mammoth of a warship drift by. The Destiny Ascension was… it was unfathomably big, looking more like a floating… city, really, but… it was like a giant, graceful creature of the stellar seas, swimming through the void without making a single movement. The middle of it was penetrated by a large, gaping hole, like a mouth. He had no idea as to its function, but… it was a beautiful sight.

In a way, it looked like a whale.

"The Destiny Ascension. Flagship of the Citadel Fleet." Kaidan had joined them in the cockpit without Thomas having noticed it. The lieutenant had introduced himself earlier, in the mess hall, and Thomas had decided that he liked the guy. Maybe it had just been his base knowledge of the Canadian that had made the first impression better, but Kaidan truly seemed to be a great guy, even if he seemed to have a little difficulty with smalltalk.

"Well, size isn't everything" Joker said, leaning back from his seat to give the rest of them a sideway glance. His stern stare lasted for all of a second, then broke down with a shrug; "Meh, you're probably all just overcompensating somehow."

"Why so touchy Joker?" Ashley asked, adding her voice to the crowd of gazers standing in the cockpit, exploiting the grand view offered by the wide "windows". In truth, they were simply millions of projectors relaying the feed from an equally insane amount of exterior sensors. It was the same effect, basically, but the technology was so far beyond what Thomas had ever seen before.

"I'm just saying, you need firepower too." The crippled pilot retorted, earning a smirk from Thomas, considering the fact that the Asari dreadnought looked big enough to tackle a Star Destroyer.

"Hah, its main gun can rip through any ship in the Alliance fleet" Jon commented, almost with a snarky voice as he glanced at the pilot.

"Yeah, no. I'm guessing you've never seen the Caucasus?" Joker mused as his fingers danced acros the haptics; "That, now that, is a ship I would put my money on. Just saying."

"What's the Caucasus?" Thomas asked, never taking his eyes off the gigantic Asari ship.

"Just the most heavily armored dreadnought ever built by human hand." Joker grinned, readjusting his cap; "It's part of the 6th fleet, and the flagship of Admiral Oleg Petrovsky. Want something pummeled, he's your man."

"You've never heard of him?" Kaidan gave Thomas a surprised look. To which he just shrugged;

"Can't say Alliance leadership ever interested me that much." The Dane said, returning his attention to the hundreds and hundreds of vessels zipping past with the speed of propelled bullets. Ashley looked at him curiously at his comment, though he couldn't figure out if he should ask why. Instead, he turned his attention back to Joker; "Where are we landing?"

"Docking" Jeff emphasized the word.

Thomas gave the pilot an annoyed look; "Right, docking, if you insist."

"Hey, it's not my fault you Union-people never took to space."

"Nidhogg" Thomas stated, remembering that one from what he had been reading. Joker's expression turned sour, prompting a grin.

"Yeah well, designed isn't the same as built or piloted by."

"Whatever you say."

Joker returned his attention to the instruments and opened communications with the Citadel. And by the Gods, the station was huge. Thomas was looking down the arms from their vantage point in the nebular, and he couldn't even make out more than a thin silhouette of a ring at the other end.

This wasn't a station… it was a gods-be-damned space-city! Everything he had seen so far was dwarfed by this one sight. It was immense, awestriking and breathtaking. Literally, as the air caught in his throat when he gazed upon it.

"Citadel Control, This is the Alliance SSV Normandy requesting permission to land."

"Hah." Thomas muttered.

"Ssshchh." Joker hushed him, though nothing could kill the grin on the Dane's face. The sight before them had robbed him of grief, if only temporarily, and Joker's reaction was funny enough that he just couldn't help it.

"Stand by for clearance, Normandy…" A voice with authority said over the comm. system; "Clearance granted. You may begin your approach. Transferring you to an Alliance Operator."

"Roger that, Normandy out." Joker ended the transmission with the Asari in the control tower.

"Normandy, this is Alliance Tower, proceed to dock 422." The voice over the comms said. Thomas sighed, trying to take in some air to help dissipate the excitement and anxiousness filling him. The Normandy obeyed instructions, and he could see the docks coming closer and closer. In a weird way, it reminded him of docking an actual boat, steering for the right moor.

This was just infinitely more vast.

"Here we go…"

Codex Entry: Kalmar Union GFIC – Ground Forces International Contribution

While by some ridiculed for never truly having embraced space-exploration and travel as most of the human race so fervently did, the Kalmar Union never viewed this as a slight on their part: Their citizens are free to go into space and or serve on any Alliance vessels of their choosing.

Another reason is that the majority of the Union's military spending goes towards the GFIC-project in collaboration with the EFEC. Union troops are highly sought for urban warfare trainers as well as experts in winter-style guerilla warfare, and their wet-navy warships patrol the straits of trade across the globe, including the infamous, pirate-infested Suez.

With a population of just above twenty million, however, the Union is at a disadvantage when it comes to numbers.

As such, Swedish Arms in 2060 began production of the first true direct combat drone, the Fenrir, a four-legged automaton weighing at 15 ton, measuring seven meters from front to rear and armed with a pair of 12mm rotating autocannons, six rocket-launchers and thermal vision. It can be controlled both remotely and directly by a single pilot, where highly advanced gyroscopes negate the effect of the machine's gait.

An unexpected side-product of the Fenrir-project was the advancement of bionic limbs, when Union Armor produced a replacement-arm for Kaliningrad-veteran SSgt, Kristofer Torsson. The arm was fully integrated with Torsson's nerves, allowing him full, if slowed, use of his new right arm.

The Fenrir-project was, due to its immense success, followed up by several other projects, all sharing the trait of bipedal, quadrupedal or hexapedal transportation. Mechs developed by Swedish Arms, with subcontractors in Norwegian Motors and Danish Panser, are currently in use across Europe, the Americas and Asia, as well as on international missions in the Africans. They are also a common sight on Alliance worlds, and Huginn-drones are frequently used by Alliance recon forces, due to their speed, optics and low detectability.