A/N:

Hello there, I'm back again. I'm really glad... no, I don't think that's the right word... amazed and overjoyed seems more like it actually. I have been getting 11 reviews for the last chapter so far. ELEVEN! That is my record for any chapter so far, and it shows you liked what I gave you. Food for thought, you know? It seems more fluff is a good thing, where I actually feared it would be the direct opposite.

Well, I'll be giving you more of that then, (wink, wink, nugde, nudge)

Alright... this is it. We have seen happieness, we have seen fear and we have seen love in this story. We have also seen death, and the death of friends in combat. I think it to be most fair, that we send Sev off properly.

Death closes all...

October 22th

Horizon, New Houston memorial cemetery

16:59

"ATTENTION! PRESENT ARMS!"

"FIRE!"

"FIRE!"

"FIRE!"

The weather is always good for funerals, as if it is a bad joke, or the sky is trying to cheer us up. How come the weather is always bad on movies, but good in real life when you bury friends and loved ones?

The five-man squad of colonial marines shoulders their arms, having performed the service of a military firing salute. Their faces are set in stone, as if they couldn't care less about what happens here, about the man lying in a coffin right in front of them. Part of me hates them for it, for not feeling the same anger and grief the rest of us do.

At the same time, part of me is thankful that they don't. I can hardly stand looking at Scorch, shouldering himself to Fixer with red eyes, standing on his one leg, while the stump of the other is in bandages. He's using a crane for now, having it under his arm. They have both, as well as Tequila and Boss, been outfitted with special uniforms, made for special occasions.

I suppose, this is one such.

With a heavy sigh, feeling my throat glued up and my chest in pain, I look from the coffin to the man ascending the platform next to it. John has just placed the traditional flag over the coffin, except for the patterns on the flag. I now know what he picked up on Illium, in that small soft package.

It is a flag, one half bearing the symbol of the Systems Alliance's curves and star, while the other half is decorated with the circular insignia of the Grand Army of the Republic. He had to have Tequila detail and describe it. I'm just glad he didn't ask me, I don't know if I would have been able to keep it together.

"Good day. Friends, loved ones and comrades in arms, to both me and Sev Delta-Oh Seven." He says, holding a short break. The pain in my chest is getting worse, just glad I stuffed my pockets with tissue-paper in case I break down.

"We are gathered here today, to bid a friend and trusted comrade goodbye, and to see him off on his journey to the Spirits of Coruscant, where his body will become one with the force." John has been asking Boss about their beliefs in advance. Fixer told me when they exited the meeting on the Normandy half an hour ago. To some, I bet this sounds like a bad joke, sending a man on with words about the force and Coruscant.

"But also, we are here to remember Sev for what he was in his life, both in the service of the Republic, and as a team-mate and friend onboard the Normandy. I have not known Sev for very long, but in the time I knew him, he proved to be a soldier, beyond the meaning of brave, loyal and hard." I can hear sniffs coming from Scorch and Fixer, while Boss looks like he's a dead man standing. His normally tanned skin is pale, and his eyes are sunken and dead.

"Sev gave his life, to save that of others, the most noble sacrifice a man can make… we… we can be grateful, and humble, to have known a man of suck character as Sev, and… and pray that he will indeed become one with the force… Keelah'Selai Sev." John finishes off with a small bow, and a few people nod, but are otherwise silent as the next speaker approach the platform.

"Greetings, and… thank you John, for those words. I know Sev would have kicked my ass for saying this, but… it fit perfectly. Sev… was my subordinate, but not just that. Delta-Oh Seven was one of the best friends and soldiers I have ever known. He always had a way of making you know when he cared, and even if he didn't, you would still feel welcome around him." Boss says, looking at the crowd of fifty of so people attending to the service. The entire Normandy showed up, despite only the ground team being required to attend. I think Boss really appreciates that.

"We served together since day one of a war, which feels like it took place in another life. He proved himself from day one, saving my life more than once, and became a good and trusted friend ever since. We served on dangerous missions, missions others would have cowered at the mere thought of, but Sev… Sev took it in a stride, always keeping a, if not cheery mood, then a mood that would inspire courage in the hearts of his fellow soldiers. I will openly admit, there was more than once where I felt ready to retreat, to give up the mission, if not for the harsh words and jovial sense of humor this man possessed." I'm not sure if I'm just seeing things, but… yes, Boss is crying. Streams of tears are making their way from his eyes to his chin, showing the grief in an otherwise stone-faced soldier. Even a vat-grown war machine is human inside…

"I have seen two sides of Sev, although I have no doubt there also was a third side, one he kept from all but himself and those closest to him. I have seen him as a calm and collected soldier, one ready to wait for hours, even days before his target passed by. He was a man living the virtue of patience at times of need. Another side of him, was a side shown to his enemies, who would soon no longer count themselves amongst the living, but rather either dead, or in a scrap pile. He could be a face of fury when he needed to, showing off the pure rage and power of the Republic at its worst. Nothing could stand against him, no weapon could harm him and no armor of shield could protect his foe. And then… then, there was the third side, the one he only enacted when he felt safe about it." Boss says, looking us again, but I suspect it's mainly Fixer and Scorch.

"Once, we were on duty on a planet getting regular visits from slavers. The entire planets was basically one big slaver op. and we were sent in to dissolve it, just us and two other special force groups. When we reached the pens and cages where the slaves were being held… I'll never forget the sight and smell of hundreds, no thousands of people of all races stuffed in cages like animals, waiting for some perverse warlord to purchase the mother or young daughter of a family to make her his personal slave. When we went loud, shooting the slavers and freeing the prisoners, I don't know how, but Sev found out a slaver was taking off with his personal stock. Sev jumped in a fighter and went after him, flying the aircraft directly into the engines of the swine's ship and forcing it down while hanging on to the hull for dear life. The net thing I saw, was Sev carrying out a small girl from the ship. The only survivor from the treatment they had received. Sev, his…" Boss says before sinking audibly, reminding me of my own throat feeling like I'm on the verge of throwing up. I never was good at these ceremonies…

"Sev… he took off his helmet to assure the girl that he was a good guy, and… there were tears in his eyes when he tried comforting the girl. She couldn't have been more than six or seven, and were crying her eyes out while asking for her mother. Not screaming, but simply asking, pleading with a face distorted with fear. I… didn't know what to do, but Sev… he hugged the girl tightly while trying to explain to her what had happened, why her mother wasn't coming back. He ended up just sitting there with her in his arms, both of them crying. That, was the only time I've ever seen him cry. It was the side of him that embodied compassion and empathy, something most people thought him devoid of. But on that day, he showed us the core of his person. Not the man… the man trained to take out an enemy…from… from four miles away, but a man who cared and dared showing it…" He says, taking a break where I can see him struggling to breathe, with tears rolling down his face.

"About a year later, we were on a mission on another planet, and ended up losing him. We thought he was dead until we met again on the Feros. We… he showed no surprise over being with us again, as if he always knew we would find each other again… He… he… sorry…. He simply went over to us with this carefree attitude you would expect from someone after a party, or at the office… he was the same as always, and we swore we would never part again, no matter what. Then, Noveria happened... we… we… Sev he gave his life to save that of strangers, one of them being a mere child whom we later lost. But… but I… I don't think Sev would look at us now, thinking his sacrifice was in vain. I'd like to believe that he is looking after us from the other side now, smiling his hard smile while emptying a six-pack and stabbing a droid intending on hurting a child in his care. I'd like to think, that he is happy, where and however he is. Ner Vode An! It means, 'We are brothers all'" He finishes, snapping to a salute.

For once in my life, I get the movement perfect, snapping to a salute along with every single other person present, whether or not he or she knew Sev at all. My eyes blur up, and my chest feels like I have to scream. Fuck, here we go… tears start rolling down my cheeks as I fish out the tissue paper.

When the coffin has been lowered into the grave, and the soil been tossed on, we all stand around the grave, looking at the stone at the end of it. It seemed like a bad joke when we arrived with the large box, and the stone had already been set:

Delta-Oh Seven

Sev

Beloved Brother and trusted Comrade in Arms

Kandosii Sa Ka'rta, Vode an.

Have peace, where you only knew war.

I still have to figure out what the Manda'o-line means though, as it has the word 'brother' and that's about what I know. Slowly, Ash steps a few feet closer to the grave, looking between the remaining Delta's, and the fresly turned soil;

"Death closes all: but something ere the end. Some work of noble note may yet be done, Not unbecomming men that strove with Gods..." She says, finishing with a slow salute, one which we all copy.

The rest of the Delta's, Scorch in particular, seems as if they are made of stone. Stone that cries. I have never seen someone this destroyed before, not even in the situations where Nicolai came to grips with the death of himself and his family, or Ash when she thought I had died. This... this is something much worse. The other times, the reason for the sorrow was distant, as in non-existent. Here, it's right in our faces, shoving the ugly truth at us again: We lost someone.

As we start to break up, I notice that the sun has lowered significantly more than when we started the ceremony. It was high in the sky then, but now it's red and on the Horizon.

Time flies when you're having 'fun' I suppose... why do I always have to react to grief this way? I'm just glad I'm not smiling right now, or I'd toss myself over a cliff.

We slowly scatter, most for the nearby bar, to try and settle down a little, on top of all this, but a few are heading off elsewhere. Boss is talking to John, while Liara and Scorch are sitting on a bench at the side of the cemetery, talking. I'm not even considering trying to listen in. At least I have that much moral left.

…

Illium, Nos Astra

21:19

Okay, so I have decided that maybe keeping a diary or something like it could be a good idea… Hell if I really know, it was actually Tara's idea in the beginning, but it sounds like a good idea, so I was like 'why the hell not?'. It could also help me not lose sight of my past, just in case.

October 9th

So…. This will be my first entry into this thing. Not really sure what to say, and it is a little awkward using a voice… whatever this thing is called. I speak, and it writes… I swear, I can hack a geth to dance steps… in theory, but I can't figure out this… Tara, is this thing on?...

Alright, let's try that again… I'm going to delete that top paragraph when I'm done anyway. So… My name is Magnus Savarin Olafur, former Senior Sergeant onboard the SSV Normandy, if the recorder believes me, and I am now here on Illium where I have been sorta 'taken in' by my lovely Quarian friend Tara'Velan nar… Qwib Qwib? I think that was how you pronounce it… anyway, so… here I am, busting my ass off to repair an old cargo freighter, or transporter or whatever. So… the hour is now 21:22, and I'm lying on a cot, or actually it's just a thin mattress, but Tara only sleeps in a net, so I suspect I've been given the best deal here. I don't know… Right, how I met her… yes, you Tara… A diary is supposed to be private, you know? It's fine, you don't… Gods… she's an amazing girl, reminds me a lot about Tali actually, which is funny, seeing that I met her in about the same way.

She was being assaulted by this space mole-man, or piglet-guy or whatever you'd call a Volus to insult it… him… and then I, drunk as I was, jumped in before they could harm her, and started beating them up with an old pipe and saved the day… I wish. In reality, got beaten the fuck up, lost a middle finger on my left hand, and got a half-joker, meaning the leader of the gang cut my cheek open in one side and kept the finger… prick…

Reminds me, I have to get back in shape. Would like to face off against that one-mandibled prick and take him down. Shouldn't even be that hard, former N6 against a thug? Not even a fair fight if I'm sober, he he… ehm, delete that last part.

Also… I seem to have… ended up in a different version of the universe as I knew it. Here, Shepard isn't the gorgeous and sexy, dangerous and lethal, mentally unstable flame-hair named Jane Shepard, but a Quarian named… John'Shepard, I think it was. Anyway, he's the one who is in charge of the Normandy now, and they are going to Noveria this time…

Something isn't right in that place though…

October 10th

Well, I'm on the brink of urinating on this lousy piece of shit plate! I simply can't get it to stick on the surface of the hull for long enough for me to weld it down. I swear, it's sentient! It's an evil contraption sent here to torment me and… Gods, I'm more tired than I thought. I think Tara is right: Just because she can go thirty-eight hours without sleep, it doesn't mean I can… fuck, what time is it? 02:33? Gods, I really need to shut down now. Tara is sleeping in her cot already; just above me… her breath is somewhat… calming to my thoughts…

October 11th

I'm not sure how to put this, but something definitely went wrong on Noveria for the Normandy and the crew. I'm not sure what though. The reports given to the news have been about these creatures having completely overrun the place, and the teams had to bug out. This is NOT what happened when I was there… unless it's the Rachni? No… no they never went beyond the base, and the geth wouldn't be called 'creatures'… what the hell happened out there?

October 13th

Didn't get the chance to get anything in last night, worked till I fell flat on the floor, then slept there till morning. Apparently, that's something Tara's done quite often… I'm just glad she knows my secret, at least the relevant one… it really helps to have that of my shoulders, know what I mean?

…

I just asked a machine for its opinion… I need to find Chuck and get a session with him…

October 15th

I swear, Tara… I have now often caught her in staring at me when we're working… I don't know why, but it makes me feel… uneasy. Maybe she's still in shock over the tattoo? Man, I… really, her face was just priceless… I think. It's difficult with the mask and everything.

Also, reached my old score of one hundred crunches and fifty push-ups today. I'm getting back in shape… now I just need some 'eye of the Tiger' and I'll be set.

October 19th

Work is proceeding better than thought, and… NAILED IT! Sorry about that Tara! Well, I got the plating to stick, and welded the fucker on tighter than a Volus' wallet… if they have those. Funny how they resemble dwarves of the Nordic mythology… just, you know… space-like and all…

Started with lifts on some bars I found on the wall in the dry-dock. Can't heave myself more than ten times yet, but I'm getting there…

Also… something's going on on the Citadel… I don't know why, but the news report C-Sec setting up barricades and big guns on the Presidium… do they respond to hooligans with lethal force there?

Met Chuck again today, when I was up to get a breather from the work. He's curious about what we're doing, and I told him about the Ashanti. He seemed pretty excited.

I still wonder though, for how long his ship is going to be docked on Illium… I know, maybe he's a terrorist, or maybe he works for Cerberus, or perhaps the government! *ttptptss Hah! 'The government' in Council space… right, hey world, my name is Magnus's brain, I ate paint as a child! Herp derp! He he h- ehmm…. Hi Tara? Yeah… yeah I'll just… shut this thing off…

October 21th

Well… now we know what happened on Noveria… Tara has this friend on Illium, another Quarian I think, who has a friend who has a friend who is friends with Tali on the Normandy, and…

Noveria was a shit-storm, literally. There weren't any Rachni on the planet, instead it was overrun by what Tara had been told was… Xenomorphs? Like in the movie! They even spit acid, like- yes, it's about those things on Noveria Tara… you ever seen the movie 'Aliens'? Yeah, those very same things. No, I don't know how those fuckers made it from the screen and into the real world. I'm just glad I am not going to Noveria anytime the next decade…

The teams sent there had to pull out, and from what I understand through the chain-mail or message thing those girls and guys used to tell Tara, they lost some people as well… someone named Sev or Shevchenko… a Russian perhaps? And… Kaidan has gotten a facehugger on him… it's some time since Tara's heard from them, so maybe he's alright now. I hope so.

The bugger may be boring outside the poker table, but he's a good guy.

October 22th

Alright, present time… will just continue as usual…

Damn… well, better start with the most important news, depending on how you see it. Tara has gotten the targeting and controls on the turret to work, don't ask me how, and we're going to install it on the ship tomorrow. We're actually going to be done weeks before deadline, so if we're lucky, the guy owning the dry-dock may give her some money back… or, I make him. Either way, when we've gotten the thing mounted on the hull and made it work, I'm taking her out drinking. To celebrate her good work.

Now, the more… somber news… while I was writing the other stuff… oh, and we're taking a break, watching news in the Sportsbar, the barkeep changed it to channel SH, or Saren-Hunting. Yeah, the prick has a channel named after, and dedicated to the hunt for his sorry ass… well, the team and the Normandy has touched down on Horizon, in a colony named Houston… no wait, it's 'New Houston'… makes sense.

There's a funeral for one of the members of the Normandy, probably the Shevchenko-guy. It's really peaceful, just like a funeral should be. The guy I'm guessing is John'Shepard himself just stepped down from the speakers platform, and a new guy is taking the position after him is a human with… damn, he looks like a walking corpse… the dead dude was probably a good friend…

Magnus sighed, putting away the mike as he looked at the screen in the bar. The funeral had been over for some time, and the screen had been changed back to the match of gravi-ball between a team of Asari and a team of Turians. It helped take his mind off of work seeing two teams from highly advanced cultures clash and struggle in zero gravity mud while punching each other with rubber fists.

The cream of galactic civilization was behaving like human cavemen. Something he always had found curious and funny. A shame the 'blood talons' had been ousted in the finals. They had been his and Jane's favorite team, and they had a very special way of celebrating when they won. He smiled weakly at the thought of her, of her body's movements, of her wild and lustful eyes.

Taking another swirl of his drink, he turned to look at Tara, sipping at her Dextro-cocktail with a straw. It always reminded him of a small girl with a straw in her soda. His smile became a little wider at the sight.

If Tara hadn't believed him, he probably would have cracked by now, thrown himself over a ledge for good this time around.

Still, something about the way she looked at him sometimes, and what Chuck had said, concerned him a little. He hoped that he was wrong, that there wasn't any attraction towards him from his friend's side. Because he didn't feel any attraction towards her.

Sure, she was a young woman, with a slim and, he had to add, slightly seductive form and way of walking, while also being cute and somewhat irresistible to be around. Plus she was friendly and took care of people and had a compassionate spirit. Still, he viewed her more as friend than a potential girlfriend. He guessed he just wasn't into aliens.

However, he'd bet she and Tali would make a good pair of friends. They were practically copies in some sense.

"Magnus?" Tara said while keeping her face over her drink, only moving her bright orbs in his direction, making him aware she was looking at him.

"Mmmm?" He hummed, having his mouth filled with beer. It was the first time they were out relaxing, and he had half a mind changing the celebration after the mounting of the turret. If they had already been out drinking once, doing so again would seem more like a repetition than a 'party', in his eyes. Swallowing, he turned to look at her.

"How come you never wanted to return to the Normandy? I mean, if we get the ship down and all, what's stopping you from trying to return?" She asked with a small voice, and he could feel the anxiousness radiating from her person. He forced himself to smile;

"Well, I'd be leaving you behind, wouldn't I?" He said with a happy voice. The truth however, was that he would feel unwelcome on the ship, if he was even allowed to join. It had been Jane's ship, and everyone had followed her lead. He couldn't see himself taking orders from someone he would only view as an imposter, however ridiculous that might sound.

"Oh? I didn't realize you were so attached to me." She replied with a much happier voice. Maybe she read something into his comment that he didn't mean for her to.

"Yeah, it'd be like abandoning my sister to travel all alone. Besides, I'm planning on making sure your pilgrimage goes without you dying or something like that." He chuckled, giving her a small pat on the back which evidently was a bit harder than he had meant for, causing her to spill some of her drink onto the counter.

"I… right, all alone… bro." She replied with a snarky tone, although he felt sure he could read some sort of fluster in it.

"Please don't EVER call me that…" He laughed, feeling the alcohol starting to take effect.

"Why not?" She giggled back, the sound of her voice obscured by what sounded like bubbles and gurgles.

"Because it sounds so silly, you know? The last to call me bro was a muscled up Mexican dude… or Hispanic, I actually never found out…" He finished, taking a hand to his chin to ponder the issue. This just caused Tara to giggle even harder;

"So? I'll just become a buff mesican… metican? A buff dude like that, no problem." She said, laughing each word out. Clearly, she wasn't exactly used to drinking.

"Ha, Tara, the day you do that, I'll marry you and carry you through the door in an old fashioned style. Now, cheers girl, to us, and that stupid piece of crap we call a ship!" He shouted, and held his glass high for her to clink. She did, although with a somewhat distant and emotionless movement. He couldn't know just what was going through her mind at those words, and for some reason, he was glad that he truly didn't. It meant less change of responsibility and risk of hurting someone if he didn't know their expectations.

"To us then, and the Ashanti, may it carry us to our goals, many as they may be, or to our untimely death, should the Ancestors deem us unworthy." She replied. Magnus felt somewhat uncomfortable by that last part, as if Quarians accepted the possibility of death a lot lighter than other races. He for one, didn't long for the cold grave of the void, nor for the watery or that on land. He had already tired of that one after the first time.

"Well, how about we just hope for the 'goals' part, and leave out the 'ready to die if deemed unworthy' part?" He asked with a small smile.

"Oh… I suppose that works as well." Tara said as she finished her drink and got up from her chair.

"Where' you goin'?" He asked, flinching at his own drunken voice. Had he really had that much already?

"To bed. I think you should too. We'll have to have our minds set straight if we're to mount the turret without help and to perfection." She replied, and started hauling Magnus off as well, having grabbed his jacket's neck.

…

October 23th

Illium, Nos Astra

09:57

The smell of bacon, both Dextro and Levo, permeated the small apartment Magnus and Tara shared while working. It was synthetic, of course, as getting real meat these days was more expensive than buying your own fighter-jet. Still, it sufficed.

In the small kitchen, Magnus was in the process of wrapping up a large role of the boiling strips of meat, while he had another pan sizzling with the grinded version of bacon, the Dextro-based stuff that would then be stuffed into a tube before he ran it through a heater that would kill every single bacteria and trace of his DNA there was. It was troublesome, but he had figured that since Tara had worked herself to sleep the night before, even though she had been adamant about him going to bed, he would make her breakfast, as trivial as it seemed.

He had managed to do his pushups while the bacon started sizzling, and had just saved it from a complete meltdown when he got back and saw his own portion on fire.

Last time he had checked, Tara was still slumped against one of the crates containing parts and thingies, and since he didn't feel like starting work on an empty stomach either, he let her sleep.

Running the last trials on the tube, he picked it all up in a small casket, and placed his own bacon on a plate before heading down to the dry-dock. He also brought a pair of water bottles, intend on filling them at one of the Levo/Dextro fountains around the city.

He ended up in the dry-docks, finding Tara in the same spot he had left her, snoring against a crate. It was inarguably a cute sight, one which made him smile like a proud parent. It seemed weird, seeing as he was, at most, six or seven years older than her.

"Good morning sunshine, the Earth says Hello! To all the little… stars above and below!" He bellowed out in his best singer's voice as he entered the room, causing a startled Tara to fall to the floor in shock. He grinned as he observed her reaction while making his way over to where she was struggling to rub her eyes through the visor.

"I… I… Magnus? What time is it?" She asked while slowly getting up from her position on the floor. He couldn't suppress a grin at the sight and sound of her morning grogginess: It was just too damn cute. Then again, it seemed like most things were when they were done by young and cute Quarians.

"A little past ten, I think. I…" He said, showing her the casket he had the food in; "Brought breakfast. You like?" He asked with a smile, praying that eating pork wasn't actually against Quarian religion. Still, from what he remembered, meat in general was a delicacy among Quarians, so he couldn't be all wrong.

Her face was, if he could have seen it, completely frozen by the words. He had brought her breakfast, actually made her food. That was the first time anyone had ever done that for her. She had always had to try and appease others in order to survive, and here this human made her breakfast, as he called it, and it even included meat. Meat was something incredibly valuable to Quarians, since domestic animals weren't available to the fleet.

In other words: Tara had only tasted meat once before, and that was something a Turian at the shelters had given her, as a… trade. She shivered at the thought, not wanting to remember that day. The meat had tasted rotten as a result, and her appetite had been completely spoiled by what she had had to do to earn it.

Now, here was a human who demanded nothing in return, giving her a freshly made tube of boiled and fried meat, cloned and grown as it might be, it was still meat. As she sucked in and chewed on the paste, she felt the shivers of delight running through her body.

"Is it any good?" Magnus asked, amused over the visible trembles her body made with each bite. It was a pleasure watching her enjoy what he had made, and while he started digging in on his own portion, a small voice at the back of his mind asked him if he didn't like Tara as something other than a friend. He dismissed it though.

He was a human still loving a dead person, and she was a young Quarian who was bound to return to the fleet when she had completed her pilgrimage. As long as it might take.

Besides, there was no way she would actually see more in him than a friend or perhaps protector. And he saw her as the same: A good friend, and someone he cared for. Hell could kiss his balls if she wanted to take Tara from him.

Still, the little voice wouldn't shut up, and instead of buzzing off, it gave him a tingling feeling whenever he looked at Tara, or caught a glimpse of her slim form from the right angle. He had to admit it to himself, again: She had a stunning outline, and an enviable personality.

"Yes it is. Do you nhaf amy iea how rae eat is on the… on the fleet?" Tara asked as she swallowed the lump of mashed and boiled bacon. Magnus just nodded and smiled;

"Yeah, Tali told me once. You don't have room for animals on the Fleet, so it's as valuable as new materials."

"True… still, I love this. But…. Where did you find or afford this? I didn't have any meat, let alone bacon." She asked, causing him to frown a little. It had actually been a gift from Chuck, as a sort of 'sign of good faith', in case he wouldn't be well met by Tara.

"Well, it's… from a friend, actually. His name is Ch-Conrad Chambers, works as a psychologist on an Alliance ship stationed here for the time being. I think he was also there when… you know, I tried to jump. He says he saw you and spoke to you… rings any bells?"

"I remember a man who spoke to me when you were unconscious. His name was Conrad?" Tara asked, putting her finished tube away.

"Yeah… I met him on the Sportsbar the other night, we had a good talk and he bought me a beer. Then he gave me this a few days ago, asked if he could come see the ship sometime. What do you think?" Magnus asked while scooping up another bite of bacon.

"He seemed nice enough to me. I don't see anything wrong with him checking in. Who knows, he might even be able to help out… does he… know your…" Tara asked, making small circular movements in the air with her hand.

"Know of my origin? Nope, that's just you."

"Great, I don't need a fan-club around us when we're working." She said in a bit more thoughtful voice.

…

October 23th

Illium, Nos Astra

15:02

Magnus brushed a hand across his forehead, dirtying it with a mixture of oil and grease. This was the part of the repair he couldn't make up his mind about whether he liked or hated.

"Can you lower it a bit?" Tara asked, snapping his mind back to the present. He had been daydreaming, thinking back to his days with Jane, thinking back to the first day they had been together for real, with no clothes on. He remembered her forms, how her supple breasts had hardened in his hands, how she had shivered upon his touch. How he had gone from being a guy who was secret in love with her, to being her lover, to her greatest supporter. Especially after Torfan, where Jane had snapped.

"Hmm?"

"I said: Can you lower it a bit?" Tara repeated, sending him an annoyed glare.

Magnus got his mind into a more collected version, and looked over the tools and gears in front of him. Tara was doing some programming inside the ship, and he had to man the machine keeping her lifted up and into the belly of the ship, right under the cargo bay's opening. There was a system of gears not responding to the commands of the control board, and they needed to have it fixed up before they could focus on the turret.

"Yeah, yeah sure let me just… there, better?"

"Much… Okay, I think I've found the… nope, that's supposed to be there… ehm… not that one either… Magnus?"

"Yeah?"

"Does the flux intake connect to the dynamics of the ramp, or the generator for the power-bleeding from the engines?" She called.

"Eh… the last one I think…" He responded while pinching the bridge of his nose, smearing his face with the black substances.

"Right… then… what about this countdown?" She called from the belly of the ship.

"What countdown?"

"The one saying zero-zero, one-ni… one-eight, seven…" She said, counting down.

"What?! Tara, get out of there!" He shouted, struggling with the controls for the machine. If there was a bomb, he would not let her die to it. He had lost enough already.

"Got you!" she laughed when he had lowered her down to his level; "There's no timer or that, I just made it up." She laughed, making him feel a mixture of the want to pull her mask off and barf in her face, and wanting to laugh as well. He did the latter.

"I swear… Tara. One of these days, you're gonna cry 'Wolf', and I'm gonna ignore the fuck out of you while you get eaten." He chuckled, raising her back up into the ship.

"Cry what now?"

"Wolf. An old story where a boy is in charge of guarding a bunch of sheep, and he makes his fun by tricking the villagers into thinking that the wolf is attacking. When in reality, it isn't. Then, the wolf finally shows up and eats the kid's ass, while the villagers ignore his screams." He said while looking around the room.

"Wait, so he died?" Tara asked from inside the ship. The occasional spark from wires and such could be seen and heard from her position.

"The story varies. In some, he gets eaten, while in others, the sheep are all eaten. I think it depends on the audience." He said with a smile, pulling out the mike for his diary;

"October 23th. I just taught human folk-tales to Tara. Effect: She won't trick me with fake bomb alarms anymore." He said, placing it back in his belt. He had to admit, it was a handy way of recording his thoughts, instead of writing them down.

"I heard that!" She shouted from her place, which just made Magnus smile again, contemplating whether or not he should have some fun on her behalf by toying with the controls for the lift.

A series of footsteps on the floor behind him made him cease his devious smiling and turn to face a familiar face.

…

October 23th

SSV Normandy

Deck one. Cockpit, CIC and briefing room.

"Well, we are out of leads people. We have tracked down every single lead the council has given us, and our sources on Virmire says it's all quiet, and besides the occasional slaver-ship discharging in orbit, there's no activity at all." John says as we're all seated.

"What are you saying Commander, the trail's gone cold?" Garrus asks with a low growl. I bet he's a bit pissed right now. I'm not sure how I feel about it though.

I just don't get it, we were supposed to find a base or something on Virmire, and then there would be all the bullshit Genesis mentioned, like choosing whether or not to kill Wrex, and to save either Kaidan or Ash. Instead, the STG-team there reports nothing out of place, no geth, no need for a nuke, no nothing. Did I fuck something up so big that Virmire never happens?

No… I can't be that lucky.

Although… I'd say losing my virginity to Ash… that counts as being one hell of a lucky guy. And now, she's been asking how I was this good when it was the first time. I just don't know what to answer. Or, I know why I was that good, but it made me throw up when I found out.

Roku, the perverted son of a whore, had a few fingers in play during our love-making. The fucking bastard literally joined in and… no, I can't even think the rest without puking again. It was the most intimate thing I've ever done with someone, and then a spectral being decides that he has to 'help out' when I'm with Ash. If he was physical, I'd have broken every single bone in his body, and then shot him out the airlock… wherever that is located.

Sighing, I bring my mind back to the task and matter at hand: Complaining over a break in our hunt. I suppose the bastard will reach the Citadel no matter what we do, but… it is sound to hunt him all the same. If we actually kill him before the attack on the Citadel, we'll be home-free… I think.

"Yes, that is… what I'm saying. We don't know where he's gone, and apparently neither Hudson's or Jane's knowledge works here, since we should then know about Saren being on that Kazuat ball of rock by now…" He says, slumping down in his seat. I suppose it is something of a personal defeat, having lost track of the indoctrinated bastard. But as long as we know he'll be on the Citadel, we can prepare for him... I think.

"So… in essence, we have nothing to do for the moment?" I ask, rubbing my face as my hair is starting to fall down it on the left side. Seems my left side is the one always bugging me. Wonder if I should get the actual Mohawk Ash thought looked so cute. I guess it did look pretty good actually, so… why not?

"In essence… yes. We are dead in the water… anyone have something they want to take care of, any personal trips of something, better tell me now and we'll get as much squared away before the next batch of Intel gets here." John replies, wringing his hands as he stretches. That's one thing I really like about him in the soldier-commander relationship he's establishing:

John behaves both professionally and casually at the same time, making you feel like he's both your boss and your friend. I wish my trainers in Homeland Security had been like him. Perhaps I would have learned something then.

"I have something for you, if you have the time for it Shepard." Wrex says, looking almost embarrassed to ask. Never thought I'd get to see him wring his hands… looks like the krogan version of Tali.

"So do I, but let's hear Wrex first." Jane says, nodding to the Krogan. I'm not sure how or why, but those two have really been hitting it lately. Could be their violent nature, but heck if I know.

"Okay, there's this turian named Actus, Tonn Actus. He's somehow gotten his claws on my family's old ceremonial armor. I want it back. Problem is, this guy isn't exactly on the market. He's a dealer in the black market, silences those he can't buy out, and he killed the man I sent to buy the armor back last year. I've found out where he's hiding, and as much as I hate to say it, I can't take him alone. That's pretty much it, and no Vakarian or Kryik. It's NOT just because I don't like Turians in general." Funny how all turian names sound roman. I really wonder if they have a planet named Rome or Sparta. Someone should have chat with them about copyright then.

There's silence in the room for some minutes after Wrex has spoken, and I am a bit taken aback as well. Is this Wrex's side mission? What would be his loyalty mission in the game? If so, this is pretty cool.

"So… you want us to take down a bunch of mercenaries to reclaim some lost armor?" Nihlus asks. For some reason, I don't think those two are on the best of terms. It's merely an assumption, an educated guess.

"No, I don't want you to do that, I'm asking you to help me take them down, as in I'm going in first, and just need some assistance. And second, that armor is priceless Spectre, it's a fucking relic. Useless, but it has sentimental value. Like if you wanted to find… whatever you spike-heads find sentimental, that your grandfather lost somehow." Wrex growls. Okay, I guess they actually don't like each other at all.

"So… we just go in, shoot the place up, with no risk of hurting civvies, and kill the fucker, then get the armor?" Nic asks, looking at Wrex with something akin to a hopeful look. Wrex turns to face him;

"In short? Yeah, that about it." He says with a small glint in his eyes. Why do I have the bad feeling here?

"Awesome, sign me in!" Nic responds, bumping his fists together. Oh, now I know why I have the bad feeling. My best friend is turning into a shootout-loving maniac. Perfect…

"Hmm… do you know how big a team would be required for this?" John asks, scratching his helmet's chin with a hand.

"About four or five should do it. His goons are just that: Goons. They are pretty much just hired off the streets and given a gun. I bet they would just piss themselves to see us coming, if you… want to." I can see John mulling it over. I can't see his face, but his body language is clear enough.

I have to admit, seeing and hearing Wrex ask for help… I never thought I'd see the day, and now that I have, I'm not sure if I like it. I always pictured him as this immobile and untouchable warlord who wasn't afraid of anything or anyone. A guy who didn't know the meaning of 'awkward' or 'shy'. And now he sounds almost nervous that John and Jane won't help him.

"Hmmm… unless we get Intel from the Alliance or the Council in the meantime, I don't see why not. We have a big enough compliment that we can spare the men. But, Nihlus will be leading the mission." John says with a final voice, letting the old Krogan know the matter isn't up for discussion.

I'm slowly bracing myself for the outburst, the objection and rage that Wrex has to abide by the turian Spectre. Instead, Wrex just nods;

"Thanks commander. I'll give Joker the coordinates." He says before sitting down again. Okay… what just happened? Wrex is supposed to be against Nihlus, not this… calm. Did I misunderstand his character, or did my being here fuck up his personality? Then again, he enjoyed John torturing Fist, so he can't be all bad… I didn't just think that, did I?

"Alright, now that Wrex has aired his concerns, I think it's my turn." Jane says stepping into the middle of the room. She looks at John, for acknowledgement I guess. He nods, and she continues;

"I know you all by now know of my past, that I am not from this version of the universe. Back when I was… back then, I had a mission for a friend of mine, a man I considered my mentor. His name was Sullivan Kahoku, an Alliance Rear Admiral. He lost contact with his men on a planet they were sent to investigate. We were going there, but… someone got to Kahoku in the meantime."

"Who?" Garrus asks, leaning forward in his seat.

"Nothing was ever proven, but Anderson had a strong suspicion it was Cerberus, the pro-human group that makes Terra-Firma look like hippies." Jane sneers. She gives me a momentary glance, as if blaming me since I know Jacob and Miranda. The look disappears before anyone else can see it though.

She isn't still pissed over the 'Jacob and her' thing I let slip, is she?

"Wait… if they are pro-human, they should have protected marines, not killed them, right?" Tequila asks, rubbing the bridge of her nose. I've never really understood that part of Cerberus agenda either. They claim to stand for humanity, but slaughter innocents in scores.

"Yeah… they don't give a fuck though… if someone's a threat, he or she gets taken down, human or not" I say, shuddering to think of what John went through on Akuze. It all makes sense now. Batarians or other merc-bands would never be able to control Threshers… had to be Cerberus. It's a public secret I guess, but it still bids the question: Does Miranda know, and was she part of the experiment? She claimed not to have known of John until a few months back, but… yeah, I fucking bought it.

I thought I held all the cards, and that fucking broad lied to me with a straight 'Oh I'm innocent' face! I'm going to hurt her so fucking bad when I see her next time. Maybe we should pay Aite a visit, and lure Miranda or Jacob out by bombing their VI-facility to gravel.

"What happened then?" John asks, pressing Jane for more. She takes a deep inhale and continues;

"Cerberus got to him. They took him and we never found him… until his body turned up on Omega, and the news all said he had died in his sleep, leaving a wife and kids. John… I had to look his family in the eyes and lie to them, feed them the same bullshit the media did. I… I want to save his life this time, even if I have to abandon ship to do so." Jane says. There's a fire burning in her eyes, one I haven't seen before in any person I've ever met, not even Ash.

"Hmm… Kahoku? I met someone named Kahoku when we were on the Citadel for Thomas's prosthetics… Hawaiian? Grey beard and always impeccably dressed?" John says, causing a light of recognition to flare in Jane's eyes.

"Yes, yes that's him. So he's alive still… thank God."

"Alive and worried. His marines have already gone missing from what I heard…" Ash says, joining in. How did she know that?

"Then it's begun… Commander, Captain Jane Shepard requesting permission to take leave and protect him." Jane says, standing tall in front of John. The latter just waves his hands dismissively.

"Absolutely not! Remember, we have a large enough team to split up for the time being. We drop by the Citadel in two days, then we meet Kahoku and you, Fisher and T'soni will take on the assignment as his temporary body-guards. While Wrex and Nihlus are out taking down Actus, the rest of us will go dig for Cerberus and their hidey-holes. If all goes as planned, we'll be able to pull this off with no casualties and be ready for the Intel when the council finds something. No one's taking 'leaves' while I'm in charge." He says with a confident voice.

I can't help a smile protrude on my face.

Despite all the shit we've seen so far, despite the personal and otherwise injuries and losses, this feels like it's going the right way. Looking around the room, I can see several of the others nod, but none standing to air their own problems. I guess that was it.

I wonder if anything can even touch us at this point. We can be at more places at once, and we have some F'in heavy-hitters on the ship. Cerberus can just try taking a pot-shot at Kahoku now that we know they are coming.

…

October 23th

Cronos station

16:22

"Ah, mister Taylor. I'm glad to see you back in the fold. I trust you had a pleasant flight?" The Illusive Man asked, leaning back in his custom-made chair. He was puffing on a fresh cigarette, enjoying the advantages of modern medicine. The cigarettes were completely harmless to one's health, and as such he could enjoy them without the risk of Cerberus losing its leader to cancer.

In front of him, the holographic image of Jacob Taylor stood, looking less than amused over his superior's reaction to the entire affair. Both with Noveria and concerning his capture.

"Thanks, it was a nice diversion from the last week's capture and interrogation." He said with a stern face and a pissed voice. He hadn't slept properly since his conversations with the Alliance corporal Fisher. It wasn't because he had told him that he knew Jacobs father. It was because Jacob knew the man had been lying when he said it, and that left out the only plausible explanation on how he could know what he did about Jacob, and Miranda for that matter's sake.

"Ah yes, Miranda told me how you were subjugated to threats about 'being sent back one finger at a time'." He said calmly, puffing on his cigarette; "I'm glad to see that was avoided. Out of mere curiosity, did you encounter this 'Fisher' again?" He asked, while his steel-blue eyes bore into the Afro-American man in front of him.

"Yeah, he was the one who almost broke my jaw with a single punch. You saw the video of the skirmishes on Hanshan?"

"I did… the green biotics were a surprise, even to me. Did you find out anything about him? His past, his powers, why they are green, how he has avoided detection of our biotic cells, his motives, et cetera?"

"Not much. Even his fellow crewmembers don't seem to know of his past. It wasn't in the data Miranda was given, and so far we only know he arrived on Eden Prime and was recruited there… before that we've got nothing, like he's a ghost…" Jacob answered. He was starting to be genuinely creeped out by the young corporal. The things he did, the things he knew… it shouldn't be possible. Unless he had spies in Cerberus, which was actually the, to Jacob, most preferable theory.

"Hmm… anything else about him?" The Tycoon asked, keeping a level gaze on his employee.

"There is something, but I don't know how relevant it is… when he was threatening to tear apart me and my team… normally that would be bravado from one man, but his squad mates seemed to be actually taking him serious and calming him down… he referred to 'letting Roku loose' on us. I don't know who or what Roku is… maybe a weapon or a person we haven't seen yet, but the face of the other human member of his team… she paled when he said it, like it was something really dangerous. He is held in high regards on the ship, from what I could make out, and has info on pretty much everyone onboard. Info they seemingly hadn't told him before… could he be the Shadow Broker? I mean, we've never been able to confirm the identity of him or them, and this guy shows up on no files and knows things no one should…"

"I doubt it. He's far too young… on a side note mister Taylor. What do you make of our chances of recruiting him to our cause?" The Illusive man asked, taking a new inhale on his cigarette.

"Honestly? I think he'd die before he joined us. He wasn't outright hostile towards me or Miranda, but he made it clear that he knows who and what we are, and what we're doing. Other than wanting something from you personally, I doubt he'd want any other business with us than at the bad end of a gun. That's my opinion sir." Jacob said, standing a bit more straight.

"So, he's a threat to us?"

"With his level of knowledge? Yeah, I'd say so. He even claimed to know the location of the Zeus station, and was ready to hand it to the Alliance if Miranda didn't comply with his commands." Jacob answered truthfully. There was no way they could turn Fisher into a member of Cerberus, despite what Miri might think.

Former Jack Harper mulled over this for some time while Jacob stood at attention in the hologram. There was some real possibility with an individual capable of producing green biotics, especially of the strength he had seen displayed on the recording. A class six of the creatures had been tossed through the air like a toy, and then slammed into walls and ceilings while the corporal was hovering in the air.

If Cerberus could get their hands on him, dead or alive, they might be able to benefit greatly from studying his brain and body.

"Thank you Jacob, that will be all." He said. Jacob then nodded and left the hologram which instantly shut down afterwards.

Sitting in the darkness of the room for some hours, the only light coming from the dying star, he was thinking. He weighed the consequences against the benefits, the pro's against the con's.

After having depleted his last cigarette, he decided, and opened a comm. link;

"Mister Garfield?"

"Yes sir?"

"Contact the Hanar, and get Krios dialed up. I have someone I want taken down and brought to me. In a body bag and intact." He said before shutting the link off. Sitting in the darkness again, he fished up a new package of cigarettes and lit one, once again enjoying the taste of the tobacco.

A few hours later, the comm. link activated again, and Harper picked up.

"Garfield here. I have mister Thane Krios on hold. Would you like to brief him in person, or should I do it?" The operative asked. When working with the most dangerous tycoon in the galaxy, it paid well to be respectful of your boss's wishes.

"Patch him in, I'll give him the rundown." He said, turning the screen around so that the other side of the link would see the star, not him.

"Illusive Man. I have been told you have an assignment for me." A dry, almost sad voice said. In the turned around screen, the Cerberus leader could see a Drell, past his prime years from the looks of him, and with heavy bags under his eyes. A small voice asked him if this man really was fit to work as an assassin, but he dismissed it. For humans, eye bags were a sign of tiredness. In Drells, it was as much a normal part as the lips or eyes. He had light-green skin, with patches of black under his face, like skin under a helmet. Drell, next after Asari, were the most human-like species in the Galaxy. Biggest difference was the difference in DNA-coding, and the fact that their bodily liquids caused the same effects as some heavier drugs.

"Yes. How much have you been told?"

"Your employee has been very scarce in details. He only mentioned a job, and that it had priority." The Drell answered, his dry voice gritting through the speakers like sandpaper. It was probably to be expected of someone whose species have lived on a world that could best be compared to either Rannoch, or the deserts in the mid-west on Earth.

"I have a job for you indeed. A man by the mane of Thomas Fisher, Alliance Marines. He'll be on the Citadel in a few days, I'll send you what files we have on him." He said, tapping a button to bring up the data their informant on the Normandy had been able to piece together and combine with Miranda's own data from the small robot she had been given back.

How ironic that Fisher had delivered the needed info himself. It caused a small smile to appear on his face, something that happened less and less often.

Fisher might have been an asset to the Normandy, but he had grown too knowledgeable of his organization, and thus caused more trouble than he was worth in the long run. There was always the chance that Fisher had been bluffing about knowing the location of Zeus station, but he wasn't going to wait until a Council Spectre kicked the door in to his stations and font-companies.

It was a risk he couldn't afford to take.

Besides, Fisher's body would reveal some groundbreaking understanding in his biotics, and how to implement it in Cerberus's own growing private army.

"Curious… I've never been tasked with marines before. Colonels and admirals yes, but a marine?"

"Just do your job Krios. You are but a weapon…" He started, waiting for the Drell to catch up;

"And you are the killer… I understand." He said, terminating the link. Jack Harper let out a sigh of relief. The best assassin he knew of was on the case, which meant Thomas Fisher would soon be but a memory, except for his cold body.

That one, would be a real throve of treasures.

Well... that can't be good...

Always pissed me off that the murder of Kahoku was never mentioned in Mass Effect 2. I mean seriously? they killed an admiral for fuck's sake! I'd have spam-mailed TIM, at the LEAST!

Also, a question: So far, which character is your favorite? Can be OC, can be Cannon. Take your pick :)

Well, I'm off till next time.

See ya :)