Alright, this chapter hurt to rewrite. The pacing, the thoughts, the indifference towards potential death...not to mention letting a stranger operate on a patient he might just have been the one to shoot...never mind, just see if this version isn't better.

Oh yeah, and, uh...Loooooong chapter ahead.

Enjoy :)

Serpent in the Dark

Citadel, Serpent Nebula

Huerta Memorial Hospital, the Presidium

13:21

"So… will she…" Gunnery Chief Williams hesitated, not wanting to finish the sentence for fear that it would invoke the death of her subordinate. Well, former subordinate, seeing as Ashley was now in the navy marines, and Hillary had yet to be redeployed from garrison to navy operations. So, technically, the private was her own superior for the time being, until she woke up at least.

Despite knowing that Thomas had not only survived, but been redeployed to the same post as herself, Ashley couldn't escape the feeling that she was looking at the only other surviving member of Dog Squad, of the 212th. Hillary was stripped down to an easy-access set of clothing, form-fitting dark clothes covering her more private areas in a non-descriptive, leaving one without even wanting to start imagining, as if the seriousness of the clothing waned off invading eyes. The lower section of her chest, despite the shot having hit from behind, was already showing signs of damage, though nowhere near the grizzly sight her back had been when the armor was removed.

It might be because she had known Hillary for almost two years, or simply because Fisher was so new to the team, he had hardly been made a fully invoked member when Saren turned traitor, that she thought of Hillary in this way. Or I might just be in denial…shit.

To think… for once, her prejudice about a Turian was correct. She had even met the man, and now regretted not having acted on her feelings back then, and shot him in the head. If she could, she would go back in time and plant a slug right between his eyes.

"Don't worry; she'll make a full motoric recovery. As for the psychological impact this is going to cause, we're not sure what her reaction will be…" the Salarian doctor said, his three fingers rubbing at his chin. Salarians never seemed to give a straight answer, no matter the question. Or, maybe, she just didn't want to accept his words.

"Motoric?" Ashley asked, not liking the sound of it. Suffering from PTSD would still leave room for 'full motoric recovery'. That was not equal with an actual recovery. But apparently PTSD was only recognized by human militaries, meaning the Salarians wouldn't understand it anyway.

"Well…" the amphibian blinked as he stared down at the datapad; "…a large section of her skin, muscles and underlying nerves were either damaged or completely destroyed. We haven't seen this kind of injuries before, so we're not sure what the implications might be. I take it you are colleagues?" the Salarian said.

Ashley looked down for a moment, picking her words. Hillary was her primary concern right now, as Thomas had been cleared for a military-grade replacement-leg under the Alliance regulations. He was getting it fitted somewhere else in Huerta right now, so it was just her here.

"I'm her superior officer." She ended up saying.

"Ah, so you know her professionally or on a familiar basis?" The doctor pressed, earning himself a flat look. Ashley sighed and averted her eyes, realizing that different mindset as Salarians might have, this man was still a doctor, and cared for his patients.

"…Both, I suppose." She muttered, not really sharing the enthusiasm of the amphibian; "…Why?"

"At some point, she's going to wake up, of course. With everything that's happened with her, she might want a familiar face around initially" the Salarian explained professionally; "It's perfectly normal for patients to experience some…instability, after recovering from comas. Familiar faces are a good way to deter negative outcomes, if you will."

"Then… thank you doctor" she groaned inwardly, but kept up a straight face. No reason to give the doctor shit for doing his job; "Please, contact me with any updates or anything at all."

"Of course." He nodded. The doctor had the standard Alliance contacts for information, but she had also given him her personal contact information, just in case; "I wish you a good day, Ma'am."

She remained silent until she reached the lobby. Out there, sitting straight as one could be on the benches, Thomas Fisher was looking intently at her approach. He was wearing standard-issued leggings, meaning his new leg wasn't actually visible. Still, he didn't get up, something she didn't fail to connect to the prosthesis.

"H-how did it go?" he made a move to stand, but she instead just dumped herself in the bench. No reason for him to strain the new nerve-connections anyway. Prostheses had come a long way since their real start in the 2060's, where nerves could finally be fully integrated with the synthetic muscles, but there was still some cool-down. She didn't know how long.

"She'll make it." she said, then paused at his expression. He didn't look like he fully believed her, maybe thought she was just telling him what he wanted to hear; "The doctors say she'll make it."

"Njord's balls…" Thomas slumped back against the bench, closing his eyes. Ashley didn't bother reprimanding him from swearing in the presence of children, instead just raising a brow; "So…what now?"

"Depends…how's the new leg?" she made a point of letting him look at it before even moving her eyes downwards.

"…feels…I dunno…weird. Wrong, sort of…But it's better than what Chakwas gave me, that's for certain." He muttered as he pulled up the left legging. What was beneath looked like a real leg, but there were differences that revealed it to be synthetic skin over synthetic muscle. For one, it was a distinctly beige color while Thomas' skin tone was more pale. Eden Prime's atmosphere didn't let as much radiation in as Earth's; "Not that I'm saying anything bad about her, you know, just that this feels…easier to move with, right?"

"So, you can walk? Tried yet?"

He stood instead of immediately replying. Though he clearly leaned more on his right leg than the left, he didn't seem to have incapacitating trouble. Thank God.

"Don't know what kind of science's in this, but…I can sort of feel my toes. Heel's still off, but…" he bent down and shoved the clothes back over his new leg; "…Yeah, I can walk."

The Citadel, Serpent Nebula

Presidium, Office of Ambassador Donnel Udina

14:07

"THIS IS A FUCKING OUTRAGE!" Udina screamed, his face contorted into anger the likes of which Thomas had rarely seen. Odd, that the man he had always hated and trolled in the second game was the one delivering the verbal beating to the Councilors. Speaking of Surt and his ilk, the three aliens were represented by their holograms, sharing looks before looking at Udina; "THE COUNCIL WOULD STEP IN IF WE ATTACKED A TURIAN COLONY!"

"Are you suggesting the Hierarchy is behind this attack?" Sparatus growled. Thomas, from where he stood, tried his best not to pay overtly much attention to the meeting. He knew how it would play out, even if Shepard was a Dextro-based alien this time around. Also, considering how far into the future this was, he found himself disappointed that the holographic quality of their images was less than impressive; "Or the Council?"

"Spectres obey the Council, do they not?!" Udina argued, forcing his voice down. Still, the strain was evident in his tone, and Thomas could see the man holding a rapidly clenching hand behind his back; "Eyewitnesses tie your Spectre Arterius to the scene, I demand you arrest him!"

"You don't get to make demands of the Council, Ambassador." Sparatus shot back, turning his head to regard Nihlus Kryik in almost the same sentence. Thomas followed, watching the good Turian Spectre as emotions played across his face…plate…thing; "Spectre Kryik, your report indicated your belief in Saren's guilt."

"He did have me at gunpoint" Nihlus sounded like he was giving his councilor snark. It was probably closer to him being frustrated, though.

"…I see." The Turian Councilor sighed, looking to his colleagues; "Still, we cannot decide anything here and now. For all we know, somehow, this is more than it seems."

"You doubt my words, Councilor?"

"Eden Prime was no-doubt a catastrophe." Tevos entered the conversation; "Events might have taken place that impacted your sense of judgement. Saren is, after all, a top Spectre. There would be no reason for him to attempt taking your life."

"Not to mention that the Geth would never follow an organic." The Salarian Councilor – Thomas couldn't remember his name – added; "If they could be made to do so, they would likely never have rebelled against the Quarians in the first place."

"That doesn't make it impossible, damn it." Udina growled; "for all we know he hacked the damn things, we know that can be done!"

"Be that as it may, Citadel Security is currently investigating your claims." The Asari said, turning the subject around; "Whether or not Saren truly is guilty of leading the raid on your colony, or if something entirely else was going on, will be established when all evidence has been gathered."

Thomas, leaning back against the railing on the balcony, glanced at Ashley. She was pointedly not looking at the councilors.

"Are those guys serious?" he whispered, hoping she could tell him that the meeting somehow made more sense than he could get from it.

"Told you they'd fucking deny it all." She ground out. Thomas, not knowing what else to do or say to that, just nodded and looked back at the holograms. Anderson was taking something of a backseat, allowing Udina and Nihlus to lead the charge.

In the end though, nothing seemed to come of it. The Council remained adamant that regardless of the overwhelming evidence provided by helmet-cams and Nihlus' testimony, Saren would be given a fair and square trial, which meant C-Sec needed time to gather evidence about him. Un-fucking-believable...

He'd actually assumed the rampant idiocy of the Councilors was just something for the sake of plot in the game, that there was no way in Hel they could be so stupid in real life. And yet, here he was, listening to them brushing off charges and accusations from not just Udina, but their own Spectre.

Apparently the old saying was true: Fiction had to make sense, reality didn't.

When the meeting adjourned, complete with the request that they all attended a formal hearing, Udina remained standing where he was, glaring holes in the wall where the holograms had been. Thomas was pretty glad he wasn't the one having to initiate a conversation with the man, seeing how he would probably get his face ripped off.

"So…" Anderson stepped up; "We're a step closer, I assume?"

"Closer or not, they still refused clear evidence." Udina scowled at the room as if the ceiling had done him a personal wrong; "If Saren gets a chance to manipulate the Council, if he even shows up, we're not going to have an easy time getting them on our side."

"I'm still surprised they just dismissed Nihlus' evidence." Kaidan Alenko said from where he was seated at one of the smaller tables. With Dawson's death, he was now Anderson's second in command, meaning regardless of whether or not he'd actually been on Eden Prime, he was required to be here.

"Saren's one of the best, and most esteemed Spectres in our organization." Nihlus groaned, though he kept himself straight and seemingly unfazed. It was only his voice that betrayed his frustration; "Compared to him, I am still relatively new to the Spectres, thus my word counts for less than his in a straight-up match of credibility."

"That's…not a very sound system."

"It is, however, the way it works." Kryik replied; "Older Spectres are usually far more intimate with the workings of the laws, and how to circumvent them, while newer members often tend to retain a black-and-white viewpoint."

"Bullshit." Jon'Shepard grumbled, clenching his hands where he sat next to Kaidan. Nihlus glanced at him, looking like he wanted to shrug or nod, then simply looked back at the two highest-ranking humans in the room;

"As it is now, we can only hope C-Sec finds incriminating evidence."

"There's nothing we can do?" Anderson demanded with thinly veiled anger; "What if C-Sec doesn't find anything? We can't just let Saren walk away from everything!"

"I have some contacts in the force." Nihlus said; "I'll contact them and see if something turns up. The Executor has always had misgivings about our organization, but someone who isn't a Spectre, he wouldn't be initially hostile to… I think."

"It'll do for now, then." Udina muttered, changing his focus from the Spectre to the Quarian; "Shepard, if you can, please do not become openly involved in the investigation. We're going to be wading through enough shit without someone pulling Humanity's connections to the Migrant Fleet on us."

"…how would that work?" the Quarian asked, sounding like he was glaring at the ambassador. Udina, to his unexpected credit, didn't snarl or growl. Instead, he just sighed and sat down.

"Shepard, your foster-mother is Admiral Shala'Raan, am I correct?" while no one else in the room seemed to react overtly surprised at that question, Thomas nearly found himself jumping over the balcony. He had not expected thát.

"…How did you know that?" Jon demanded with a more uncertain tone. Great, maybe someone would actually explain now. Thomas might have no business knowing it, but damn it all if that wasn't the most unexpected revelation yet. Especially from a man so often labeled a racist.

"My predecessor left me assorted diplomatic documents as references. One of which attained to your…leaving the Fleet." Udina seemed to have it in for Thomas, because every sentence from that man threw him a fresh round. First of all, it didn't to him make sense that Udina, or his successor whomever that was, knew about details from the Migrant Fleet, it was also uncannily weird that the man actually seemed to care.

"Can we not talk about that?" Jon muttered, looking away; "But yeah, I think I see what you mean. Politics and all…"

"Good, then we can get back to more important work." Udina sighed, this time with a bit more relief; "Anderson, would you mind coming with me?"

Anderson, with just a nod to the rest of them, turned and followed their ambassador into a side-room. Thomas, just like most of the others, didn't move or talk for a few seconds. Personally, he was trying to figure out what to do.

This was all so different. Mainly because it was actually real, but also because things obviously had changed. Nihlus was alive, Shepard was a Quarian, the Normandy's commander had been killed, and he himself was a leg short.

Despite how it might look similar to his own, the new leg still felt as intrusive as poking oneself in the eyeball to put on a contact. Laser-surgery was by far the better option, even if it had been relatively new technology back then. The leg, however, was not what he would call a better option. He told Ashley he was fine, that the leg was fine and worked, but in truth, he just wanted to have his own two feet on the floor.

When Anderson had left, the dismissal for the rest of them was unspoken, but clear nonetheless. Thomas decided that, with how everything had changed, he didn't trust himself with anything important. If he said or did something wrong, something new could change, and everything he knew could be blown even more out of proportions.

Which meant, he didn't trust himself to participate in the Council hearings.

"Err… Chief…?" he relaxed his expression as much as he could, though he doubted anyone would actually believe he was calm. Still, if nothing else, the Danish Education System had – though not intentionally, probably – made him more accustomed to lying through his teeth than what was likely a good idea. And it still didn't mean he was good at it.

"…Right, what?" Ashley seemed to have been in some sort of stupor. Her eyes were distant until she turned towards him and focused.

"You…okay?" she didn't look okay, by all means. She looked haggard and worn down, tired and exhausted all at once. And a knot of concern tugged at his stomach.

"Sorry, just…tired." She muttered, rubbing her eyelids. Thomas really didn't want to give her more grief, and knew that he would be doing just that if someone asked him anything at the hearing. He'd never been good in crowds; "What is it?"

"…Since you are my superior, and I was kinda trashed out before we even knew of the Beacon… I was thinking if perhaps… you should go as a representative for both of us. I'll go if you want me to, but…I've never been any good with too much attention. If they ask me anything…And I didn't even see Saren." He didn't mean to, but he was pretty sure that came out as a bit of a dick-move.

He wasn't even sure what he could do that was better than attending the meeting, but he just didn't want to do it. There was so much he could ruin if anyone asked him anything at it, he'd rather not run the risk at all.

"Okay, if you're sure… but wait, what would you be doing that could help more than the hearing?" She asked, cocking a brow at him. Seeing as he wasn't even sure himself, he didn't know how to answer that. Still, maybe she was right, and he could just avoid being asked…Fuck it, maybe I can still find something after the hearing; "Since I know for sure you're not planning on something stupid like trying to see the Consort while we're here?"

Ouch. That stung.

"Fine, I'll come along and stand still… you know, like a statue." he muttered, placing his hands in his uniform-pockets; "And I wasn't planning on seeing the Consort…she's also way too expensive for someone of my rank…and I'm not really into Asari."

"Good, because if it was only me…" Ashley sighed. She looked, for a moment, as if she was going to say something harsh, maybe something to reprimand him for even considering bailing on them. Then, her expression changed and she turned on a probably forced, yet wry smile, and faked a scared tone; "Oh, all alone in that huge tower, only human I know is nowhere to be found. What if the keepers attack me? Where will my dashing hero be to take one of their rockets for me?"

Thomas knew she was probably just saying it to take away some of the negative air – hoped that was why – but even as she seemed to realize that she might have overstepped a line, he couldn't hold down a grimace. He had lost a leg, dammit.

And that sucked more every time he realized it.

And Ashley looked like she wanted to punch herself in the throat. Instead, she palmed her face and groaned, letting the hand remain long enough that it left a mark when she removed it, and weary eyes looked at him. There was no trace of humor in them now, just the lingering grief.

"Hey... Hey, Thomas, I'm… Sorry. Sorry about that, I didn't mean for you to relive…to think about that shit…" he wasn't used to this, to figure out how to accept apologies. Very few had ever actually apologized to him throughout his life, and usually that had only been to get over their own bad conscience. Ashley was different, on that one. She was obviously sincere and looked like she was feeling like shit.

As a consequence, so was he.

"…It's okay." He sighed, trying to meet her eyes but found that he couldn't; "…I survived, didn't I? And you and Hillary are both alive too, no?"

He gave her his best smile, but had the feeling it came out as more of a wry attempt at one. There really wasn't anything else he could say.

"I just…Shit, I'm so sorry."

"I…it's okay… Okay?" he really didn't know how to make it understood, especially because he knew Ashley felt like it was her fault he had lost a leg. And then made a joke about it.

Yeah, in hindsight she really didn't seem possessed of great social skills either, so at least they had that in common, which was nice. Not. So, he tried something else, and just punched her shoulder; "If you're really feeling guilty, you could always buy me a drink later."

He had expected her to be angry, to hit him back or to – ideally – smile or grin at the joke. Instead, she seriously nodded, and he had no idea what to do or say from there on out. Shit- That…wasn't what I thought she would do.

"You could always just pretend you never saw the nod?"

There was starting to appear something of a pattern here. The Voice would always speak to him at the worst or most inconvenient times. Just like now. I'll just let it rest that a girl actually just accepted buying me a drink instead.

Really, because he wasn't sure how to do anything else and not be a dick about it. And it was also potentially the first time someone had ever actually accepted when he'd asked them on a "date", even if it totally wasn't and he had just been joking and…My life is a fuck-fest, isn't it?

Thomas' mind was struggling with the concept of a beautiful woman buying him a drink, mainly because it would then be the first time that had ever happened. Still, as an idea started forming in his mind, unconnected to the woman before him, he hoped maybe he could get away before the hearing started.

Speaking of the Jotunn, the Quarian with them stood, causing all idle talk to cease. Thomas watched him, trying to imagine what Shala'Raan would look like in real life, and why she had taken Jon in as a foster-son. Considering what he remembered of Raan and the other Quarians, there was a chance Jon actually might just know Tali.

Or maybe she had never existed either, like Jon's human counterpart. Still, that was not a thought he liked to entertain. He just couldn't imagine Tali not being out there somewhere, and wanted to at the very least look in places he knew she would come by sooner or later.

"Well, the meeting is not in an hour, so there's some spare time if you want to go have a look around." Jon said, though his tone betrayed the fact that he wasn't going to be doing sightseeing, and neither were the others, probably. Thomas didn't know if he was; "…Meet back here in 45 minutes, then we head to the hearing"

Strangely, Jon seemed to already be taking on something of a leader-role. Was it deliberate? Thomas wanted to roll his eyes at the oddity of it all, but refrained from it, instead just huffing a breath. Well, at least I can still manage one place before the hearing…

The Citadel, Serpent Nebula

Council Chambers.

14:28

"Hey Sparatus!" The older Turian was forced to turn around as the annoying voice reached his ear-canals, alerting him to the presence of the Human Admiral.

Spirits, why couldn't it be Hackett spending his free time on the Citadel? Hackett, he could accept and even respect… This woman though…she was a pestilence to all that was good and orderly.

"Admiral…"

He still greeted her curtly, looking at the human woman as she approached. He himself had just exited the private restrooms, getting ready for the session with the Alliance personnel. Spirits damn them all, this was making his kidney-stone hurt with stress… And now the infamous 'Neuter' Admiral had just jumped him the second he got his pants back up.

She had been waiting for him, that much was obvious. Turians couldn't do them, but he knew a "shit-eating grin" when he saw one.

"You busy? No? Good, because we need to talk before this hearing." She insisted, almost physically pushing him backwards.

That was another thing he didn't much like about her, this… woman. The daughter of Colonel Cologne, and the niece of Admiral Stephen Hackett, Anna Fisher was imposing, in the aspect that where the rest of the human admiralty tried pulling rank, she was known for irrational behavior, not to mention attempts at violence against Councilor Tevos.

That was one way they had found out the barriers could stop a bottle.

"Admiral Vestergaard, I really can't see how this hearing is of your concern. It's a simple matter of clearing up a misunderstanding with some Alliance marines and an unstable Spectre-initiate believing Arterius to be involved in criminal activities." He grumbled, trying to stare her down. Not that he normally shared information of this kind, but the woman had a way of finding out anyway, and she was always smug about it when she did.

Some days, he suspected her of being the Spirits-be-damned Shadow Broker. It was only because she'd never even attempted to hide the fact that she had contacts all across the galaxy that she wasn't a suspect. From what Valern had let slip, Jormungand – he assumed the term or word meant something – was causing all sorts of trouble whenever the STG started interfering with Alliance Affairs. The name, however, was practically all that was ever known about the damn group.

But Sparatus suspected Fisher to be somehow connected to it...

"Yeah, see that's where I disagree. Saren's always rubbed me the wrong way, and now the entire surviving garrison of Eden Prime nail him as the culprit of mass murder? It fits, is all I'm saying." She said, boasting and looking like her usual self. Which was somewhat disturbingly close to a human adolescent in expression.

"I'm willing to bet it is not…" he sighed, knowing it wasn't. Where was Security when you needed them?

"Damn straight it isn't! Listen, you know I don't like you much-" She started. Sparatus just sighed again, feeling the woman adding to his stress with each second. He was tempted to make it a point of thanking her for her honesty, but realized that would most likely just get her fired up.

Titans take her.

"Yes, you have made that abundantly clear with almost every conversation we have had…" He growled. She just held up a finger, like a child in school. Spiriiiiiiiiiiiiits!

"But, I do prefer you to your colleagues, so I have a… proposition for you." She continued, unperturbed by his words. Sparatus didn't dare hope for anything positive, considering her last "proposition" was currently locked away in the archives under ' .Open.'

"…Somehow I can't help but get a bad feeling whenever you propose something, Admiral…" was it truly a wonder why?

"Listen, I'm betting my shoes on Saren being guilty. And when-"

"If." Sparatus pressed down, letting it be clear he had faith in a Spectre of his own species. The problem with the situation was that he was forced to choose between a senior Spectre and a Spectre who had only just become a full-fledged member. Everything was made even more complicated by the former being the latter's mentor.

"When, he is found guilty, I doubt he's just going to turn himself in. So… Nihlus Kryik was on Eden Prime and was already on the Normandy when the mission went to shit. We have… had a Commander, Simon Dawson of the Normandy, and we have a Quarian ready to serve as well." She said. Sparatus' face could not have been less of a question-marker, his mandibles spread in utter confusion.

"I take it back… I don't have a bad feeling, because I have no idea what you are talking about." He grumbled, pressing his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them again, Anna Vestergaard was still staring at him, her mouth set in a smirk. He had almost hoped she would have gone away like a headache.

"Think about it. If Saren is found guilty, and if he runs, the fleets can't track him down. So, we send the most advanced scout frigate in Council Space after him."

"…The Normandy?" what exactly was she planning? Normally he wanted nothing to do with her schemes, but the Normandy was a joint-species project, so he wanted to know if she was going to send it off on some moronic ghost-hunt.

"On-the-button. Now, Nihlus is there already. Since Dawson was killed by the geth on Eden Prime, that leaves Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko as highest ranking human officer on the ship after Captain Anderson. Now, do you know there is a Quarian by the name of Jon'Shepard on the ship too? Or, well, he is on the Citadel right now, but still." She pressed. Always, always she was pressing.

Sparatus both hated and reluctantly respected that about her. Spirits, she was annoying and intrusive, lacked all sorts of proper respect and bypassed conventions and laws both written and not… but she had a temper and a resolve not even the Blackwatch officers could match.

Having survived as long and as much as she had, he supposed that one was a given.

"Yes, I think I do. We have just had a meeting with Ambassador Udina. I saw a Quarian in the background… Would that be him?" Sparatus hoped it wasn't. What was it with this Quarian the admiral kept referring to? The Quarians weren't even a Citadel Species, nor a member of the Human Systems Alliance.

They shouldn't be important in any way, so…what was he missing?

"It would, yeah. You see, I've been doing some research on him…" She said, causing the councilor to repress a groan. The truth was, Admiral Anna Fisher did "research" on everyone she deemed important. And even those seemingly unimportant, like a stray Quarian who just happened to be mixed up in the case of a possibly rogue Spectre; "And guess who he actually is?"

If there was one thing neither Sparatus nor any of his colleagues liked, it was when the Admiral infamous for brutally mutilating slavers, hunting down criminals and disregarding intergalactic laws, smiled.

Especially if it was her trademark smirk, like what she was wearing now. Sparatus shuddered, wondering how a human of an age supposed to lead to wisdom and patience, could be so… He wasn't even sure there was a word for it.

That smile was laced with promises of pain, death and retaliation, as well as childish glee and a predatory intellect. He knew she had some sort of condition, something there wasn't a Galactic word for, but the effects were disturbingly well known amongst humans.

A lack of empathy, sociopathic tendencies, extreme self-preservation and paranoia. Ruthlessness and violence was more or less just the brainchild of that. Still, on top of all that, she was also an extremely keen tactician and had led most of the raids on Shanxi. When Oraka had then been forced back through the Relay, Drescher stalking him through the Relays, Anna and her men had been first on the grounds of most conquered colonies.

S'kak, Fisher was more or less to blame for half the colonies the Hierarchy had lost in the 314-incident.

"I have no idea, frankly. The name Shepard is unknown to me…" He muttered, feeling the headache already knock on his door. He did not feel like spending more time with her than he could get away with, and right now he was scraping the bottom of his patience.

"The foster son of Admiral Shala'Raan." She said, a beaming, triumphant smirk prevailing on her face; "Which, in Quarian law, makes him the equal to the daughter of Rael'Zorah, another Quarian Admiral. My sources tell me young Zorah is somewhere here on the station, incognito. I haven't been able to track her down yet though…"

That didn't mean there was anything like defeat to catch in her voice though, something Sparatus had long since learned simply wasn't in her vocabulary. If anything, the human probably just saw it like any other challenge. Though, while he was starting to see the reasoning for her interest in this 'Jon'Shepard', he couldn't figure out what her stake was with the other Quarian. Still, Cologne's interests never went far from the path of giving the Council grief.

"Right, right… so, what is it about him being the foster son of this Admiral Raan that has you so eager you are willing to have a prolonged conversation with me?" He asked, pressing his eyes closed to get some of the headache out.

"I'm not giving that part up yet. Just keep an open mind during the hearing. We'll talk afterwards… or, we'll argue." She said, the promptly turned and headed for the women's restroom.

Spirits… now he had another meeting with her to look forward to. Almost grounds enough for simply convicting Saren on the spot. If conversing with the auburn-haired admiral was annoying, arguing with her was like being dragged through the hellish pits of the Turian spirit-realm naked, covered in tar and rolling in nails.

Then again, that was just another day on the job.

The Citadel, Tayseri Ward

Upper Wards.

14:48

Thomas wasn't exactly sure where he was going.

This, considering his current predicament, was neither something new nor something unexpected. Still, it was due cause for worry, because he feared he had disturbed whatever decided the timeline, and enough so that things might go horribly wrong if he didn't see to getting a lot of shit reversed, so to speak.

Far as he knew, Tali had only survived the original timeline because Shepard had torn through the alleys to find her before Saren's goons…or was it Fist's? Shit, he couldn't remember, just that no Alliance Commander would be riding to the rescue this time around.

Now, however, he faced a new dilemma.

The Citadel was big. At least a thousand streets on each Ward, and he was looking for the one that had the damn clinic on it. He wasn't stupid, he knew that however the game had been made to portray this place, everything had been vastly simplified. There were far more streets, doors and signs, the majority of them in letters he just could not recognize.

So, despite being a man, he did what his gender had been eternally condemned to refuse:

He asked for directions.

"Excuse me sir, but do you know the location of Doctor Chloe Michel's office? It's really important I get there fast."

Seeing as how the first the best person he had managed to stop was a Salarian, he didn't even know if the alien would know a clinic run by a human. Nevertheless, the Salarian stopped and looked at him, briefly making Thomas worry that maybe his translator was fucked. After everything that's happened, I wouldn't even be surprised.

"You… you're standing right in front of it, you know that?" the alien mused. There was this expression on his – or was it a female? – face that seemed to be eternally entertained by a human asking for directions to a clinic.

Then Thomas actually processed the spoken words, turned around, and contemplated vaulting the closest ledge.

On a bright, softly glowing neon sign, a series of English letters were bent in plastic, illuminated by azure gasses. Or something. Neon might work differently now than before.

Dr. Michel.

Non-profit all species clinic.

Open all hours, no appointment needed.

Even when the Salarian decided he had done his and left, Thomas remained, staring at the sign like it was coming alive. He couldn't even imagine how many years it would have taken him to live it down if anyone from the crew had seen him now.

"You could just have asked me for directions." The Voice pointed out, not lessening Thomas' frustration and fluster. He simply decided not to dignify that with an answer.

Alright… time to do this.

Luckily, he was wearing his Normandy-issued navy uniform, seeing as his own clothes were a bit too… lost, plus his garrison uniform had been blown to bits. Taking a deep breath of mixed trepidation and giddiness, Thomas swallowed and palmed the door.

"Doctor Chloe Michel?"

He decided to speak up instantly, hoping to catch her attention. Inside, looking through something obviously medicinal-related, a redheaded, young woman turned to regard him as he entered. She was wearing the same kind of one-piece bodysuit as Chakwas, just not in Alliance patterns.

"Yes?" the word came out with haste, like she was spending valuable time talking to him. She seemed…nervous, for some reason. Thomas wasn't even armed.

"Private Tho-" he started when a door next to Michel opened, and a man in full surgery-gear stepped out. Thomas simply stopped talking when it was obvious Michel's attention wasn't currently on him.

The man, built like a truck from what Thomas could discern, seemed to hesitate when their eyes met. Something about them struck the private as familiar, but seeing as he'd never even been to the clinic before, he couldn't imagine how or why. Yet, there was a definite widening of those strangely known eyes.

And for some reason, Thomas noticed the surgeon was wearing sneakers with azure plastic-wraps. Where do you even get those today?

"Chloe, could you keep an eye on the patient?" he gave the doctor as nod while pulling off gloves stained with dark, purplish blood. Right, multi-species clinic; "I'll take this one."

Michel, the woman Thomas had hoped to actually find, nodded and left for the side-room. That left Thomas with the surgeon, though he wasn't even sure why. The man's eyes were the only visible part of his face, the rest covered by a surgeon's mask and a hair-net.

"So…, Fisher, I'm guessing you're from the Normandy?"

The Citadel, the Presidium

The Citadel Tower

15:12

"Where the Hell is Fisher?" Ashley demanded of the room, seeing as the rest of its residents didn't seem any the wiser on the subject than her. Dammit, this was what happened when you let a uniformed kid play tourist. They always got lost.

"I don't know. We'll have to take the hearing without him. Does he know anything you don't?" Nihlus asked, looking to her side from where he was standing at the railing, listening to and watching a Turian C-Sec officer arguing with his superior.

"…No, not that I know of. He was knocked out cold by the rocket." She muttered, still not liking the memory of that moment, nor the fact that even bringing it up seemed to have brought the private pain back in the embassy.

It was a nice way of saying she might be accomplice if he ended up with post-traumatic-stress-syndrome.

"Well… at least we won't have to worry about missing crucial evidence then… come on, Anderson is signaling us." Jon'Shepard said, shrugging as he pushed away from the railing to the fountain, looking first at her, then at the Captain of the Normandy as he and Ambassador Udina were waiting at the foot of the stairs to the Council chambers proper.

"Dammit… he's better have an explanation for this later." She muttered, then followed the Quarian.

The Citadel, Tayseri Ward

Chloe Michel's Clinic, Upper Wards.

15:12

"I…am?" it too his brain a full three seconds to register and formulate a response; "I mean yes, I am. How did you-"

"Good. Take a seat then, I'll just have to check something." The surgeon cut him off. There was something distinctly familiar about that man, something scratching at Thomas' consciousness.

"You have met this man before."

"I kinda figured that…Who is he?" Thomas kept his silence as he watched the surgeon move around, operating his Omnitool while muttering about things like hemoglobin and blood clotting. Those were just the words he understood.

"Now where would the fun be in this universe if I revealed that?"

"You're seriously a bastard sometimes, you know that?" still, Thomas did as the surgeon had told him, and sat in one of the longue-chairs set up in the waiting room. It was cheap material, but better than sitting on plastic or the floor.

The surgeon guessing his posting however, was unexpected. Thomas spent painful seconds looking at his own uniform, seeing no symbols, signs or insignias. There was literally nothing giving him away, which just made it all the more weird that the surgeon knew.

Maybe the man was former Alliance Navy and knew the ship was at the station? Still, even if he knew that much, there was no guarantee a marine walking into the clinic was from the Normandy, of all ships. Plus, the media hadn't been around at all, so…how?

"I'm making some tea, Rooibos, if you prefer?" there was something even more weird about the certainty in the surgeon's tone, like he knew what Thomas liked. Was it something all marines liked, or did he just look like a rooibos-type?

"That's…yes, thanks, I would love some." He muttered, keeping an eye on the surgeon as the man walked around, bringing a pair of cups with him from what seemed to be a thermos-kettle of some sort.

"First thing I did when I started working here was getting a proper tea-kettle and boiler installed." The surgeon explained as if that would make more sense; "You'd be surprised how big a difference human tea can make when you wake up in strange places."

"I'll…remember that." Thomas said, unsure of how else to reply. On one hand, that was a handy tip, especially because he happened to prefer Rooibos over most other kinds of tea. On the other, the surgeon was starting to creep him out a little. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because a complete stranger was addressing him like they'd known each other for years.

When the man retuned with the cups, mask still covering his face, Thomas felt like the chair was on fire beneath him. He was utterly confused at how this had turned out, not to mention he wasn't sure how much time he had left before the hearing started.

"You're not drinking?" he asked, referring to the mask. The surgeon just shook his head;

"Both cups are for you." he explained, then added with what could almost be a chuckle; "Believe you me, my friend, I think you'll need them."

"…do I know you from somewhere?"

"You just might, depending on how much time you've spent here already…" it was as if each new sentence out of that man's mouth was competing with the former to be the more confusing. How much time he had spent here already? Spent where - on the Citadel? "Sorry about what happened to the colony, by the way…Drink, the tea's just above lukewarm."

"…riiiiight, I'll just…" he blew on the tea and took a sip. Warmth spread throughout his body, and some of the tenseness left his muscles, forcing him to nod; "It's good."

"Thought so. Surprisingly you and Chloe like it the same way. Easiest co-worker I've ever had, you know…just not into humans." The surgeon leaned back in his own chair and started fiddling with the hair-wrap; "You know, no one was thrown a bigger curve-ball than me when the name 'Fisher' suddenly appeared outside the Admiralty. And on Eden-fucking-Prime, of all places…makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

The hair-wrap came off, revealing short-cropped, dark hair.

"I…" okay. This had stopped being funny before it even started, and now Thomas was seriously considering ripping the surgeon's mask off, if nothing else then because he was being so frustratingly mysterious, and Thomas was fairly sure Ashley was going to murder him for being late.

Or maybe just rip his other leg off.

"Then again, six months is a long time to just be sitting on your ass, wondering about the why's and the how's." the surgeon scratched his chin, creaking his eyes in a smile; "Take me, for example. Didn't feel like joining the Alliance to go out killing pirates or patrol the void. So, I did what anyone with training as a naval officer and corpsman would do when arriving at the center of galactic society."

"Becoming a surgeon?" Thomas asked, watching as the man of aforementioned profession started undoing his mask.

"While waiting for the right moment where the right people were going to stop by..." he stopped undoing the mask, seemingly in thought; "Then again, I was actually kind of worried the place would be shot up before you got here. Granted I never actually had any guarantee you would be here, but…I guess things just have a way of working out. I'll even give you an example, Thomas…"

"I…my first name's not on the label." Only his last name was, adding to the mounting confusion. He officially had no idea what was going on, only that a surgeon working on the Citadel knew a lot more about him than even a stalker was likely to.

Which wasn't super creepy at all.

"About half an hour before you got here, a Turian walked in with kidney-problems." The surgeon said, removing the mask. For ten long seconds, Thomas simply stared at a face he had resigned to never see again – plus a short, well-kempt beard – and was unable to process the sight, allowing a supposedly dead man to continue; "So, yeah, I just came out of surgery with an alien, in case you hadn't caught on."

"This…this is…Is this…?"

Nicolai-fucking-Tengberg.

"Dunno how the Hell you survived Eden Prime, Amigo, but…well, glad to see you did." Nicolai picked up the untouched cup of tea; "I lied about both cups being yours, by the way. Cheers for your return to the living."

"C-ch…how?"

"How did you come back?" Nicolai turned the question around. Then seemed to take pity on Thomas and smiled, downing half his cup in one swig, wiped his beard with the back of his hand and sighed; "Truth be told, I really don't know."

"Don't tell me you…you…"

"Died?" Nicolai finished the sentence for him, with old grief in his eyes. Thomas just nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence; ""Don't know… after you went and got crapped on by the train, I decided to stick with the navy instead of going merchant-fleet. Half a year later, Putin decided to throw nukes around like fucking confetti. I was on the Esben Snare, at that point, and fucking atomic bombs hit Anholt, where we were anchored for shore leave. Never would have figured it should end like that… never even got to say goodbye to the old folks."

"So you… didn't see… some kind of light or a voice that spoke to you?" even if the reunion still seemed way beyond what could even be considered within the realm of 'impossible', his mind was starting to catch up.

"Saw a light, alright. Nuclear bombs tend to put on quite the show." Nicolai grinned, a hint of regret in his eyes. He shook his head and sighed; "Still, can't really do anything about it now. I woke up nearby about six months ago, knew next to nothing about what the hell was going on, needed cash and took a job here at the clinic…So, you heard a voice?"

"Kind of…yeah." Thomas drank some more of the tea, trying to calm himself down. It was damn near impossible, considering one of his best friends from before he'd been smeared was now sitting across from him, employed in Michel's clinic of all places; "I'm guessing it's something that'll be explained eventually."

"…Right." Nicolai said, sighing with just a hint of a chuckle; "Shit, here I'm being all mysterious and collected, and I haven't even asked how the fuck you ended up here…or how your leg ended up like that. Got a limp or…?"

Thomas put the cup down on the glass-surface of the table, idly staring at his own reflection in the material. His hair looked like hell, with how a good patch had apparently been burned off.

"…I was conscripted, more or less, into the 212th on Eden Prime… There I met some really good people… I spent about a week there, I think, before Saren attacked. I never saw his ship, but… we escaped the place with all but me, Ashley and another marine named Hillary dead. The entire colony was slaughtered by the geth…"

"Fuuuuuck…" He groaned, pulling at strands in his beard; "Didn't give those details on the news, just there'd been an attack on the colony…So, everyone dead but you three?"

"More or less, aside from Nihlus somehow surviving the whole thing. Halfway up a hill, I was hit by a rocket, woke up on the Normandy with one sock too many and found out Shepard is a Quarian… feel free to grow pale and scream now." he said, leaning back in the chair. Surprisingly, Nicolai did not grow pale or scream.

Then again, Thomas had never known him to actually do that.

"Nihlus survived?" Nicolai huffed; "Well…that means…wait, so you work on the Norman-…Shepard is a Quarian?"

"So far the only Shepard I've met is a Quarian, yeah."

"…a Quarian."

"Yeahhhhhhhhh…" Thomas had the presence of mind to actually grin a little at that. Nicolai's calm expression was now broken into a mixture of disbelief, horror and amusement. His friend then sighed explosively and slumped back in the chair;

"…Things are never really simple when it comes to being around you, know that?"

"Yes" Thomas nodded, almost feeling a little proud at that fact; "What's the matter, you never seemed to complain before?"

"Hey, I just dug out a freaking kidney-stone from a Turian." Nicolai retorted, drawing Thomas' eyes to the blood on his friend. So, not Tali then; "Let me tell you…not funny. Humans are hard enough to cut open and sew back together, but aliens…Shit, mate, that's not even funny. I mean, I've been here for months now, and I've been hearing about cases where Chloe had to…What's wrong?"

Thomas had, upon hearing the word 'hearing', been reminded that he was currently missing out on the meeting which would probably determine whether or not they even got the permission to hunt down Saren's ass.

"Shit…I was supposed to be at the hearing against Saren right now… Ashley is so going to kill me." Thomas groaned, getting up from the chair. At those words, Nicolai regained his smile and started chuckling.

"You know, of all the people… Ashley Williams, huh?" The look in his eyes when saying her name caused Thomas to blush far more than what he could blame on the temperature. He could feel his ears boiling, which was extremely frustrating because he had not even fucking planned on falling in love, or whatever it was called.

Considering his situation, it was probably a mix of hormones and Stockholm's syndrome.

"What? No, no, no, no… no. She's… I mean, she would never… I'm not…She's my superior officer, even if…Rules, and…I so hate you, you know that, right?"

"How long have you known her?" Nicolai asked, face getting a little more serious. There was still that easy grin on his lips, the very same that had always given him luck with the girls.

"I… for about…six days." Thomas managed to say, fighting the heavy blush. Blast it, is this what it was like when I teased him with his girlfriends?

"So… not even a week, and you're horny for the Chief already. Didn't take you long. Now… what are you doing here anyway, if you were supposed to be at a hearing?" He smiled, then looked around, probably to make sure Michel wasn't listening in on them. Gods that would be awkward to explain, mostly for him, though. Might have to knock her out and make her think neither me or Nicolai ever existed…

"Well… don't be insulted-" Thomas started, even as he heard the door slide open to the street. A hiss of pressurized air, followed by someone entering where he couldn't see.

"H-help me…" Nicolai was out of his seat before Thomas even recognized the voice. When he finally did, his friend was already at the door, kneeling where a hooded girl had fallen to her knees. Holy fuck-cakes!

"Hey! Hey, miss!" Nicolai was no longer the carefree guy Thomas had only just been reunited with. Now, he was a paramedic, a different personality entirely. Idly, Thomas knew his friend had been trained to handle gunshots and shrapnel-wounds in the navy, already before he'd been killed by the train, but to see him hoist up an actual victim… "Chloe! Clear a gurney, prep the antiseptics! Get the clean-rom ready and bring out the dextro-sealant!"

"What's going-" Michel halted her question when she saw Nicolai carrying the Quarian. Thomas was still at the chair, standing but having not yet moved an inch. He was stunned, unable to process what he was looking at. Nicolai was carrying Tali'Zorah to a gurney, and he was just standing there; "Right away!"

"C-can I help?" Thomas managed to ask, even as his friend was rummaging through equipment, activating machines and turning on programs. Nicolai stopped his activities just briefly enough to look over at him, eyebrows furrowed in agitation.

"…you have a gun?"

"No, but-"

"Then lock the door. We might have company." Nicolai barked, stunning Thomas to a standstill with the unfamiliar tone. Time really did change some people, he realized. Rationally, he should have expected something like this, really. His friend had passed the navy's officer-course; it stood to reason he could boss people around; "Now Thomas!"

The stupor was broken and Thomas snapped to it, realizing that things were actually happening even though he couldn't readily believe them. Shit was getting real, and fast. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

He slapped the haptic at the door, sealing it shut. Even then, he could hear the sound of running feet from outside. Little was in that area of the Upper Wards, and Thomas had noticed that the hallway ended just a dozen meters to the left of the entrance, with a public restroom. Unless it's widespread diarrhea, this is bad. Shit!

"She's in there!" someone with a flanged voice – a Turian – yelled outside the door. Thomas jerked away from the door as the panel lit up. Someone was opening it, and he didn't know how to lock the door.

When the door slid open, revealing a Turian in armor, he simply panicked and acted on instinct. The Turian managed to level his gun, only to receive a bionic kick to the knee. The alien went down, as did the shot, burrowing pellets into the floor to the sound of an overwhelming explosion.

"I said LOCK THE FUCKING DOOR!"

"I'M WORKING ON IT!"

"IT'S ONE FUCKING INTERFACE!"

"…kheelah…"

Thomas palmed the door shut again, then pointed his Omnitool at the interface and overloaded the damn thing. Contrary to what he had hoped for, the door didn't seal itself shut.

A sad thing about modern doors was that in the case of an emergency, such as a fire or a collapse, doors were designed to open once their hydraulics deactivated, thus preventing people from being trapped inside.

When the door slid open again, it was to the same Turian, now pointing his gun directly at Thomas' face. The snarl and wide-spread mandibles signaled little in the way of merciful thinking. Oh fuck me!

KRAK!

Five minutes earlier.

Upper Wards, Keeper Walkways 60 meters from Chloe Michel's Clinic

"Fenrir-five this is Fenrir-two, come in, over."

"Fenrir-two, this is Fenrir-five, overwatch is a go, all's quiet since target entered the clinic."

"Be advised, Five, Fenrir-one spotted three armed mercenaries enroute to the clinic. How copy?"

"…mercs are Birds?"

"Affirmative."

"Visual confirmed. Three Birds in civilian headed for the clinic." Fenrir-Five reported, switching off the safety on his weapon; "…Fenrir-two, uniformed human male just closed the clinic's entrance in a hurry. Sending footage…"

"…Understood. Be advised, human male potential VIP. Prevent incapacitation if at all possible."

"Birds have reached the clinic…VIP kicked flock-leader's knee in, possibly marine…the doors are opening again. Rules of engagement?"

"Duck Hunt"

KRAK!

When the Turian's skull exploded and sprayed Thomas with fragments and gore, the only reason he didn't scream was because he was too stunned to do so.

One moment, the Turian's shotgun had been leveled straight at his head, ready to send him back to the darkness, then the alien's head suddenly exploded. Contrary to when Bates had been shot in the head, the Turian had been killed with a standard slug. That meant blood, bone-fragments, torn tissue and brain matter gushing out in a fountain of gore.

Most of it hit him, splashing over his face and upper chest. Thomas stared in wide-eyed horror and disgust as the nearly decapitated alien fell to the floor in a sagging heap, gun still in hand. Someone stepped up behind him, though he couldn't make himself turn to see who.

"Aw Jesus Fuck, Man! Who's getting blood all over my floor?!" Nicolai's voice came from behind him in outrage and frustration; "I told you to lock the fucking door, Thomas, not short-"

The next alien coming through the door was obviously seeking cover from whomever had shot the first attacker. It was a Turian as well, dressed in the same civilian outfit but with a kinetic barrier that flickered to life as a round hammered it from behind, causing the mercenary to stumble forward. So, not civilians with guns then.

KABLAM!

Then the Turian was blown straight back out the door, missing a large piece of his chest. It was only the whine of sound returning to his world that made Thomas realize that the firing of a gun right above his head had momentarily deafened him.

"And stay the fuck out: We're full."

When he looked up, Nicolai was holding a smoking shotgun of non-human make, aiming at the doorway. When painfully tense seconds passed by and nothing happened, Thomas finally saw him lower the shotgun. Nick just killed someone!

"Six months sure do wonders for pacifists, don't they?"

"That's…not even funny. And where did he even get the gun?"

"Ah, shit, I hit the door too…" Nicolai groaned and folded up the shotgun, whereafter he looked down at Thomas with a wry expression; "Shit, you… ah…got a little something on your…everywhere, actually, Thomas."

"W-what…what the fuck?" Thomas whispered, staring between his gun-toting friend and the two dead Turians; "Where'd…how…"

"Should've thrown you the gun the moment I found it, yeah, sorry…" the surgeon/killer sighed, folding up the weapon; "Should've remembered Tali always carried one of these things."

"Y-you just…k-killed someone!"

"…Damn…I did, didn't I?" he groaned, shaking his head; "Fuck, C-Sec's going to be all over this place."

"Shouldn't we-" Thomas started, wiping his eyes from sweat.

A soft series of ping's made him trail off and look at the door. It was open, and a small ball was skidding across the floor. Two pairs of eyes widened in horror as the grenade's pings reached a constant tone, only for its lights to go out.

Gunfire sounded from the outside of the door, though neither human dared to move. Maybe the grenade was a delayed motion-sensor, and would go off the second someone moved away from it. When the gunfire stopped to the sound of a body hitting the ground, Thomas swallowed hard.

"…Are…are we…" Nicolai whispered, staring at the grenade. It had just stopped, and they didn't know why; "Holy shit!"

"That…was too close." Thomas breathed explosively, throwing the dud out the door. He didn't want to risk it suddenly activating and blowing them all to Hel. It was funny – just a little – that apparently that was now a legitimate destination for Scandinavians.

Didn't mean he wanted to see it, though.

"Okay…Okay, let's just…Okay, so…we have two bodies in the clinic."

"Three, actually, if you count the dead one outside."

"You're not helping." Nicolai grumbled, drawing in a deep breath; "Okay, I'll see if Chloe and Tali are alright, then we dump the bodies in the nearest vent and let the Keepers drag them to the protein-vats."

Damn. That was cold.

Still, Thomas was unable to come up with a better plan. If they called C-Sec, there was a fairly big risk Saren would know sooner rather than later that he'd failed at killing Tali – Thomas assumed the Turian was the one sending mercs after them – and more would come. Plus, Nicolai had killed one of them, and no other witnesses than Thomas himself could support his claims of self-defense.

After it turned out that Michel was wrist-deep in Tali's shoulder – that was a sight he would probably not get over for the foreseeable future – Thomas and Nicolai each grabbed their Turian, covered them in thermos-foil and started for the nearest Keeper duct. It was close, and the shooting had scared off whomever might have been close enough to see anything.

It still felt like a mob-film though, not that Thomas really had a choice but to help his friend with the last body. Like the first, this one was missing most of his head from what seemed to be a high-powered, heavy slug through the back of his head.

"So…who shot this one?" Nicolai mused grimly as they threw the body down the duct. Thuds and bangs echoed from within as the body dropped into the bowels of the Citadel; "I mean, you saw the entrance-hole, right? Had to have been a high-caliber round."

"…Garrus, maybe?" Thomas suggested. He remembered how the Turian had done the same to Sidonis, so it wouldn't be impossible; "Shit, I don't know…"

"Your tool." Nicolai said.

"What'd you call me?" Thomas asked with a frown. His friend then just pointed at the Omnitool currently flaring orange with the 'incoming call' message. Gods dammit, he needed to get an alarm on that thing. When he looked at the caller, it wasn't one he remembered adding, though he still accepted the call.

"Thomas, its Jon. I'm just giving you a call because Ashley seems a little pissed at you for not showing up. Just so you have a fair warning… speaking of, why didn't you show up?" Jon did sound a little annoyed, even if his words were calm and friendly. Thomas could feel his fingers going numb for fear of what Ashley would do to him, having skipped the hearing even though he'd said he'd be there.

Probably something like running rounds on the Presidium.

"Right…" he sighed, shaking his head as if that would solve anything. Gods dammit, why couldn't the guy have called after Tali was better? Right now he didn't even know if Michel could help her at all; "Listen… Jon, I'm at Doctor Michel's clinic. You know, the non-profit one in the Upper Wards? I think I've found something we can use for… Wait, how'd the hearing go?"

"Like dung, if you want to know. They just dismissed everything we said, and Saren called Anderson out on racism and on manipulating Nihlus… coming from him, that's like the Batarian accusing the Salarian of slavery. Anderson then tried using the visions as evidence…"

"He didn't mention…visions?" Thomas muttered, slapping his own forehead. Meanwhile, Nicolai was just following the conversation while furrowing his brows deeper and deeper. Thomas wanted to hit himself right about now. He hadn't even considered asking what Jon had seen when the Beacon grabbed him, and now he had nothing to go from.

"Right, no one told you…" Shepard sighed explosively; "Short story is that the Beacon on your colony shoved some images inside my brain, most of them flashes of pain, death and terror. Chakwas decided they were just dreams, while the captain tried using them against Saren…"

"He didn't."

"He did. And Saren used that to make it seem like we were grasping at straws. The Council dismissed us, ignored Nihlus and called the session to an end and named Saren innocent." What had at first sounded like static actually turned out to be Jon's teeth grinding against each other. Thomas wasn't yet completely sure why the Quarian was so passionate about bringing down a threat to a species not his own, but appreciated it nonetheless.

"Well great… fuck, this just makes getting Tali out of here safely even more of a priority…" Thomas grumbled to himself, lowering his voice the instant he realized he was speaking aloud. Dammit, if Jon heard about Tali – granted it wasn't a hundred percent that they actually knew each other – before she was safe, there would be shitstorms on the horizon, and Hel to pay.

"What were you saying before? Where are you?" Jon asked as Thomas made his way back inside the clinic.

"I'm in the non-profit clinic, Doctor Michel's clinic on the Upper Wards, near C-Sec. You know where that is?" Thomas asked. There was a bit of commotion on the other end, then Jon's voice came back on. Someone else was talking in the background.

"Nihlus does. Why are you there though?"

"I mentioned I might have found something, an informant… I think… C-can you hold for a minute, she's coming towards me now. I'll get back to you when I know." Thomas stuttered and cut the connection.

Tali'Zorah, dressed in black, silver and purple, was being helped from the other room, even though Michel protested with almost every step. When the doctor looked at them, she shot Nicolai an exasperated look.

"Jesus Christ…" the Greenlander sighed; "Miss Zorah, would you mind telling us why you're already out of bed?"

"I said I'm fine."

"You were shot." Chloe argued.

"…And you helped me." Tali replied; "W-what happened out here? I heard gunshots and screams and-"

"Miss Zorah, are you honestly trying to tell me you're feeling fine after you were shot with…" Nicolai paused and looked at Chloe.

"Polonium rounds. Two in the shoulder."

"Right, those. People usually get sick just from exposure to one."

"…My suit took a lot of the toxins away." She muttered; "A-and I don't want to stay here if it means...if it means...You- you could get attacked because of me!"

"Little late for that one now, I think…" Nicolai sighed, glancing at the ruined door; "Look, contrary to what you might think, we're not in a hurry to get rid of you. So chill, okay?"

"…oh."

It was painfully obvious that Tali had been in a hurry because she had expected to be kicked out otherwise. It was a sad fact that Quarians were generally being treated like that, even by the humans on the Citadel. Thomas just hoped Earth was different. When Nicolai elbowed him in the side, it took him a moment of annoyance to understand why.

"Hey Tali… I mean, Miss Zorah…" he started, feeling his mouth dry up like cotton. He was intimidated. Which made no sense whatsoever since Tali was about as harmless and cute as they came, at least at this point in time. He took a new breath, exhaled, took a new and finally continued;

"I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time."" He approached her, all the while she was leaning against the wall. On her feet and with those strong legs of hers being put to use, she looked more like the Tali Thomas remembered. With the exception of the fact that he now knew the color of her skin – and of her blood, thank you very much Michel.

"Yes, I... suppose I owe the both of you thanks. For, not letting them take me, you know." She was wringing hands, something Thomas couldn't help but smile at. It might be remarkable how different she looked from the way Mass Effect had presented her, but her voice and behavior remained the same; "But, I…uhm…I don't know your names…"

"Nicolai Tengberg." It was amazing – and surprising – how Nicolai let nothing show of the fact that once, before all of this, he had been one of the most ardent pushers for Tali as a…choice, for Shepard. Now, he seemed like this was the first time he'd ever even heard of her, even as he handed her back the weapon. Time really does change people…; "I, ah, borrowed your shotgun, by the way…Here."

"Private First Class Thomas Fisher. I serve on the Normandy, which is also part of what I wanted to talk to you about. But first… I would like to know if you by any chance know another Quarian named Jon'Shepard?"

He could have sworn Tali nearly hit the damn ceiling at that. Luckily, she remained standing where she was. She still ran on the spot, flailing her arms around, all in all reminding him of a squirrel on caffeine.

"Yes! Yes, I know Jon! Do you know where he is? How is he, what's he doing? Is he here on the Citadel?" Man, that couldn't be simple friendship… or it might. Thomas had never been the best to judge people's emotions. It would be a huge help with Ash, but he would probably survive without.

"Whoa, whoa, Tali slow down. First, yes, I know where he is and you will see him. Second, he's doing fine. The guy apparently saved my life on Eden Prime, so if I can reunite the two of you, I'd see it as a good way to start paying him back. He's part of the crew on the Normandy as well. And yes, he's here on the Citadel. He just finished a meeting with the council… long story. I'm sure he'll be eager to retell it when we meet up with him."

"So, WHEN do I get to see him?" she was almost like a predator in the way she borderline demanded the information. Not that Thomas minded giving it to her;

"Well, we're currently hunting this Spectre called Saren Arterius, and we need information on him that ties him up with the assault on Eden Prime. But so far, we've found nothing of u-" that was as far as he got, before Tali cut him off, activating her Omnitool in a display of brilliant light.

"I can help-I can help! I found a memory-core from a geth in the Terminus-systems; its databanks held information about their new "prophet" named Saren! And then you can take me to John!" She practically screamed, causing Nicolai to flinch and hold his ears.

"…ow." He grimaced; "Please don't scream in the clinic, Tali. It scares away the customers."

"…sorry."

"You do?" Thomas asked, only half-pretending to be surprised. He honestly hadn't been completely sure if she would have gotten her hands on it, what with so much else being altered. If she had come straight to the Citadel from the Migrant fleet, she wouldn't have had the data. It was only because she had been chased in here that he'd even dared mentioning to Jon he'd found something useful.

"Yes… I wanted to sell the information to Fist. He works for the Shadow Broker, I think, and then the Broker could give the Council the information and I would get something in return I could take back to the Fleet. But now…Kheelah, if this can help Jon, if this'll mean I can see him again…"

"Well…that was easy" Nicolai noted; "Somehow I'm surprised we're not still getting shot at, you know?"

"Stop tempting the universe, Mate." Thomas said, causing his friend to wiggle his eyebrows. Gods, he was still doing that? "But yeah, the plan'd be for you to give the data to Jon or Captain Ander-"

"Jon." Tali stated. Thomas hesitated, glancing at Nicolai; "It has to be Jon."

"Sure, fine…" the surgeon sighed, glancing in the direction Doctor Michel had disappeared off to; "Not like it's my decision anyway…Look, you two talk about…whatever you need to talk about, and I'll see how Chloe's doing. She's not used to people using her clinic as a fucking battlefield…"

Thomas nodded and allowed Nicolai to leave the room before reactivating his Omnitool and redialed Jon. Now at least, he knew the number.

"Shepard here." The filtered voice came back. Thomas could see how Tali was visibly restraining herself from jumping forward and snatching the tool from his arm, even if it would mean breaking it. Thomas had had his share of broken bones for this month, if he could have a say in it.

"John, it's me again. Listen, the informant has valid data on Saren, valid. We're still in the clinic. Where are you?"

"We've just entered the wards. We'll be a few minutes." He said.

"…Okay, we'll stay here. By the way, I thought you should know the informer is a Quarian from the Rayya." He really should just tell Jon he was standing here with Tali, but the small amount of Thomas that had always been a prankster preferred to see full shock-volume when the Quarian entered through the door.

"She is?" He asked, his voice taking on a more… a deeper tone, was the best way to describe it. Like the words gave him both dread and hope at the same time. Honestly, it was something Thomas wanted to find out more about. The whole situation was deeply weird and screamed of some sort of tragic separation in the past.

"Yeah. Now move your ass, I've never liked hospitals much." Thomas said, ending the transmission. When he turned, it was to be facing the half-glare, half-confused expression of Tali, as well as a Nicolai struggling to keep an even face.

"Don't diss my job, Thom."

"Why didn't you tell him it was me?" Tali demanded, her voice carrying hurt and confusion. Thomas sighed, having not foreseen the negative aspects of keeping her a secret.

"…I… dammit. I don't know really. If he knew it was you, he might race through the wards, topple people over, get arrested… better if he just gets the surprise when he walks in here, no?" he asked, grinning.

When Thomas shortly thereafter heard footsteps in the street outside, armored and civilian boots entering the room, he expected to see Jon already here.

In hindsight, that one was stupidly naïve of him.

"Took you shorter…" he started, turning around, only to be met with a gun, more precisely a Carnifex, a bit of custom-done markings done to the grip, stuck in between his eyes. Fuck me. Again.

People sticking their guns in his face was starting to become a really bothersome habit.

"There she is! The Quarian!" the leader of the men, humans this time, yelled, followed by the sound of guns being readied and aimed at Tali, Michel and Nicolai.

"Aw come on, I didn't even get to fix the fucking door!" Nick started. Thomas expected him to be holding the shotgun, but found his friend now unarmed. Tali, instead, had the gun strapped to her back, and Nicolai received a pistol-butt to the side of his face for his trouble; "-Son of a fuck!"

"Shut up! You, girl. You're coming with us." The apparent leader of the men, counting six of them, said, grabbing Tali's forearm, namely the one she'd been shot in. She yelped in pain, her voice a shrill cry for help. Thomas moved forward to help her, only to find the muzzle of a gun pressed against his forehead. Right, there was a gun on his forehead. How had he missed that? When the muzzle pressed against his skin, a green tint slowly started merging with the world. Thomas blinked, trying to get out whatever was in his eyes. Fuck, not now! I have to see-

A loud bang, followed by a slug going straight through the head of the man holding Tali, shook the room with volume alone. From behind the low middle-wall, a blue armored C-Sec officer stood, gun in hand;

"Let go of her, you son of a bitch!"

Shots were fired, rounds clipping against metal walls. One ricocheted, zipping just an inch past Thomas' cheek.

The muzzle was removed from his forehead as the owner took aim at the new attackers, namely Nicolai as he hammered a fist into the temple of the closest gang-member - or whatever they were. The man was sent sailing from the impact, weapon falling from his hand.

As the man in front of Thomas aimed his gun at the surgeon, Thomas grabbed his arm, forcing the gun against the ceiling until a knee hit him in the groin, forcing the air from his lungs in a wave of nausea and agony. Yet he held on to the arm, knowing that if he let go, the man would be shooting them all.

More shots, and more of the attackers fell to the ground, bloody holes in their heads, courtesy of a Turian handgun. Garrus' entrance was far less…gory, the first time Thomas had watched it.

Gasping for air as the pain starts pulsating instead of burning, Thomas delivered as hard a punch as he could to the man's own groin, feeling as the impact with the hipbone shook his own arm. It was nothing against the pain the man likely felt now though, as he sank to the floor.

Next to Thomas, Tali had pulled her shotgun from her hip, and blasted a hole through the stomach of the second attacker. Gore, pieces of bone and strings of intestine splattered over the pristine, white wall. It was enough to make the girl recoil and scream at her own work. And Thomas felt like throwing up, seeing in his mind how Donkey had tried stopping his own organs from falling out.

Meanwhile, Nicolai seemed to find himself occupied, trashing around on the floor with the last one. Both men were built like trucks, trading blows with power Thomas didn't even want to get near. He could see the Turian cop move up from the corner of his eyes, but he didn't shoot the last gang member, something for which Thomas was grateful, seeing as he could've hit Nicolai.

Finally, and probably due to his well-muscled body being that much stronger, Nicolai gained the advantage and delivered a head-butting in the other man's face. The sound of a nose breaking filled the otherwise now silent room, followed by agonized moaning. Nicolai stood, and simply started to drag the man against the wall, raised above the floor.

"Who the fuck are you?! Why'd you attack us?" He shouted, sending a new punch against the man's face when he didn't answer; "Answer me, you piece of shit! I am not cleaningblood off the walls too!"

Thát got him talking.

"No- no one! Fist sent us, said to get the Quarian, said to kill her and bring the data if we had to!" The man choked out, Nicolai's hand closed around his neck. Thomas had never seen his friend like this before, a storm of rage and anger. He'd never actually seen him pissed off before, or just hitting someone. It just… never seemed like him. Once more, time changes people. Shit, so much has happened…

"You were after-" Nicolai said, then realization seems to dawn on him; "You're the back-alley guys… which means…" He muttered, turning to look at the Turian; "…You're Garrus Vakarian?"

"Officer Garrus Vakarian, yes… You know me?" He said, seemingly unperturbed by Nicolai abusing a suspect right in front of him. He seemed far more surprised at being recognized, actually.

"…Heard of you…" Nicolai said, dropping the man to the floor. Then, he looked at his hands, blood staining the knuckles; "I don't… I don't feel so well, really." He muttered, slumping down on a gurney that was tipped over in the fight. Fuuuuck… we were almost killed?

"Miss, are you alright?" Garrus asked, turning his attention to Tali, the girl still holding the shotgun pointed at the corpse of the man she shot. She hadn't yet moved from when she had recoiled in terror. Shit.

"Miss?" He tried again, stepping closer. Tali whipped around, pointing her weapon at Garrus before seemingly realizing he was one of the good people. Thor's testicles, if she'd shot him…

"Tali, are you alright?" Thomas asked, and speaking of Thor's testicles, he was very much trying to not walk against his own, the pain still flaring up with nausea replacing the initial burning agony.

It reminded him a bit of Elementary School, somehow.

"Yes… yes, I'm… Fist! Fist sent them? He… He set me up, I should have known I couldn't trust him!" She exclaimed, her grip on the shotgun tightening. Not bothering with telling her that she would probably had marched happily into whatever trap Fist had for her, Thomas just breathed, getting his body back on the run. It still hurt like Hel, though…

"Fist? The owner of Cora's Den?" Garrus asked, holstering his weapon before looking at the dead or unconscious attackers; "Damn…"

"Yes! Yes, he said I should come to the bar, but then I was shot on my way and I went in here and…" Whatever Tali was about to say was cut off when new footsteps echoed outside the door. Thomas turned, prepared to jump into cover if more attackers appeared.

He was unarmed, not stupid. Still, there was no need. Instead of more armed attackers, someone familiar appeared in the entrance, allowing Thomas to finally relax. Shit, it'd been a long day already.

The male Quarian in the doorway started lifting his hand in greeting before he saw the carnage in the room. Whatever he was then about to exclaim was once more cut short when he discovered Tali, standing with shotgun ready, in the middle of a warzone.

"…Tali?"

Codex Entry: Alliance Unofficial Spy-Networks – the AUSN-Group.

While Alliance Intelligence is commonly and publically viewed as the Human Systems Alliance' main network for intelligence-gathering, espionage and counter-espionage, this model is solely for the purpose of ensuring greater Galactic attention does not fall on the less-than-well-known information- and semi-private networks within the Alliance Structure.

Most if not all of these networks nevertheless cooperate with Alliance Intelligence, sharing information across whatever political or ideological borders might exist between them. This makes them somewhat similar to the spy-networks rumored to serve individual Dalatrasses on Sur'Kesh, though the human equivalent is rumored to be more centrally funded.

One of these is the Organization known to the Galaxy only as 'Jormungand' or the 'World Serpent', a creature of myth and destruction from the realms of Scandinavia on Earth. It was once said that the Jormungand surrounded the Earth and covered out the stars in the skies, and was so long that it could span the planet and bite its own tail. The Jormungand was one of the four children of Loki, the Norse god of trickery, subterfuge and information.

What is known of Jormungand as an organization remains deliberately limited. It was founded somewhere in the 2150's, following the Turian attack on Shanxi. Common belief has it that Jormungand, much like its mythological namesake, was the "child" of Loki, the Espionage and Intelligence Service of the Kalmar Union. Since then, Jormungand has reportedly been connected to industrial espionage, assassinations, military espionage as well as blackmail.

While rumors are abound with the leader(s?) of Jormungand being someone high in the ranks of the Alliance, no solid trace, fact or document has ever been procured to finally cement the identity of whomever leads the shadowy organization.

With the many changes I make, significant and insignificant both, I would really like to hear what you think of them, even if you read and preferred the original version.

It's kinda my drive, you know? :)