The sharp clack of polished shoes on the smooth tile was enough to make anyone lining the hallway stop and stare momentarily. The two of them proceeded rapidly towards their destination, barely pausing to return nods of courtesy or the occasional salute from anyone who was military.

Right now, such trivialities were secondary as they approached the infamous interrogation wing of C-Sec. Their man lay in one of the rooms lining this stark expanse, containing the answers to the thousands of questions burning in their brains.

A door on the left opened and a human male stepped out, clad in the uniform of a C-Sec officer. "Admiral, Councilor," he began to the two, "I'm Captain Bailey, thank you for coming on such short notice."

The captain held out his hand to the closest one who promptly shook it and moved on to the next, sensing the urgency in their grip. Without needing a prompt, the captain beckoned for them to follow as they proceeded into the observation room.

"Did you have any trouble with the Council, sir?" Bailey asked over his shoulder, "We only sent you the request our 'guest' made not half an hour ago and you were scheduled to be in a meeting for a few more hours."

"The Council didn't need my input at the moment," David Anderson said, "I just had to know for myself what it is we're dealing with."

Bailey shrugged, "If it's not too personal, sir, that's something I'd like to know as well."

Now the second man stepped forward, "How long has he been here?"

"Xelvin says at least five hours, according to the timetable he presented."

"Five hours?" Admiral Hackett repeated, "We weren't notified until just now, when he was already on the station for five hours?"

"Actually, sir, we only notified you when he asked for the both of you. Specifically."

Anderson and Hackett looked at each other and shared a frown before they maneuvered themselves into the cramped room. They spend a couple seconds trying to adjust their positions so they could see exactly what was going on in the room beyond. The one-way mirror prevented their subject from gazing back at them but it provided an unobstructed view on whatever was sitting in the chair at the moment, cuffed to the table.

"Good god," Anderson breathed.

Hackett stroked his goatee in thought and squinted his eyes, "And…he claims to be Shepard?"

A man sitting in front of the desk wheeled around in his chair. The pair could see that the man was a registered Alliance psychiatrist by the name of Benz, according to his name tag.

"As far as I could tell, admiral," Benz said nervously, "Since arriving on the Citadel, he had claimed numerous times that he in fact was Commander John Shepard of the Alliance. A fact that had us puzzled, to be honest."

"No need for the speculation," Anderson assured, "We are all equally puzzled by what…he…has to say."

Everyone in the room now glanced at what the cyborg was currently doing. It was still sitting in the same pose when they had entered, not moving an inch or so much as twitch in their direction. The dull orange of its eyes glinted with malice and the skeletal construction set them all on edge as they merely gazed upon it, upon him.

Hackett turned to Benz, "The report mentioned that he wasn't alone. Who…?"

"Ah, yes," Benz adjusted some records on his omni-tool, "We moved them both into the same room as they were deemed less of a threat than this one here. And…also because the entire wing is overcrowded as it is, so we had to make do. One 'Moreau' and one 'Vakarian.' Human and turian. They seemed to have taken to their companion quite well, considering."

"That's no surprise," Anderson mused, "They were members of Shepard's original crew. How have they been treated?"

"They seemed fine, both physically and mentally. A little irked at the fact that they have been waiting but that's been the normal reaction from anyone who has spent time here." The man chuckled a little before continuing, "But I wasn't aware of the fact that both had known Shepard previously. You'd think the file would have included that."

"Moreau's assignment was for a classified mission and obtaining a record of his involvement would have been far above your pay grade. As far as Vakarian goes, he was the product of a rather impromptu on-site recruitment by the commander. You'd only obtain a record of his involvement through news updates from around the time frame of the Battle of the Citadel."

"Well, had I known that, I would have included questions pertaining to that subject in my initial analysis."

"You talked to him?" Hackett interrupted.

"Uh, briefly. I only managed to get so far until he became uncooperative with me and repeatedly stated that he would only speak to you two or anyone he was traveling with."

"Which is why you sent out the request in the first place…" the admiral realized, "You didn't get anywhere in those five hours, did you?"

"Not in the slightest," a thin man in the corner replied. "At least, if you're talking about how the verbal questioning went."

Anderson scooted over, "I'm sorry, mister…?"

"Isaacson, sir," the man offered a hand, "Doctor Isaacson. I'm up with the NTech development unit at the requisitions posting."

"Permanent station?"

"Temporary. Been on the list for rotation until I was hailed. Brought my tech team over and everything."

Anderson cocked an eyebrow, "I must have missed something. Tech team? What exactly did you do?"

Isaacson smiled, "Nothing that our good friend in the other room didn't notice. We set up heavy duty scanners to give ourselves a better look at his inner workings."

"And?"

The doctor spread his hands, "And what I have to say is that he is the most complex piece of machinery I've ever come across. He's a modern engineering marvel."

Hackett stepped into view for the man, "What did you find out?"

"I'll get to it, then. Long-range scans have been able to identify a set of organs encased within the chest area of his chassis, enveloped in a synthetic skin sac, a synthsac."

"I've heard of the technology," Hackett mused. "Synthetic organ protection is a common fix for soldiers who have been gravely wounded in battle. I would guess with a design like this the sac is wholly necessary?"

"I don't see what other viable option anyone would have at this point," Isaacson pushed his glasses up his head as he drew his research from memory. "Synthsacs perfectly emulate the texture and consistency of all the layers of fat and muscle in the body. They can be molded to a specific body cavity in order to have the organs remain in the perfect orientation. That means that the actual material of the synthsac is made with a combination of plastarch, PBI, and Nomex for added firmness, with the side effect of making the organs completely and totally fireproof. Scorch marks on his chassis seems to indicate that he already put that design feature to good use, although I'm not sure if...uh, he was aware of it. But in this particular case, that synthsac has been engineered to encase the digestive tract, heart, lungs, and a few other accessory organs of the host."

"Digestive tract? You mean he still eats?"

"Probably not in the way that you or I would figure. His metabolism has been slowed down due to the reduction in actual body mass. He could live off of a simple protein bar for a week and not suffer any ill effects. We managed to remotely scan these organs and compared it to the DNA that we had on file. It was Shepard's DNA."

"Those organs could simply have been cloned," Hackett pointed out, "There are several ways to obtain tissue samples for the purposes outlined here."

"True, but you can't clone memories. That was what Benz was trying to accomplish before Shepard clammed up. He gave a bit of background but it was enough for us to eliminate the possibility of a clone entirely."

"But what was the purpose of all this?" Anderson gestured.

"That was what I wanted to find out, too," Isaacson said grimly, "So I took the liberty of conducting a more thorough scan. You can see what I found embedded on a specific part on a leg."

He held up his arm, engaging a small display on his omni-tool, and both Anderson and Hackett bent down so they could properly see it. When it came into focus, their eyes widened as the inverted "C" logo was immediately visible.

"Cerberus," Anderson whispered.

"Did we check him for bugs?" Hackett burst out in alarm, "Or any tracking software that could-"

"Already taken care of, admiral," Isaacson assured, "Once the logo was discovered, I initiated a sweep of his systems using a remote sifter. He's got some kind of advanced software in his head but from the files I pulled, none of it was devoted to anything that would cause alarm to any of us. It was mostly combat related and codex files."

Isaacson glanced out the window for a brief moment, "Gentlemen, if I may offer my hypothesis, I believe that the body that we are currently referring to as 'Shepard' remains incomplete."

"Your hypothesis is welcome," Hackett nodded, "But why would you guess that it's incomplete?"

"Well, based on our dealings before, we know that Cerberus has always had meticulous and well-laid out plans in the past. Assassinations on party members? Assaults on eezo refineries? All of it was well thought out and planned in advance, but…him? He doesn't even appear to be finished."

Isaacson took a breath, "Let me explain, you'll notice that he appears to be partially covered by that grey armor that you see all around him, yes? That is a lightweight and strong polymer developed by our R&D lab and is currently unavailable to the public, let alone our main military branches, but the intricate layout suggests that his whole body was supposed to be covered in the stuff."

"So you mean to tell me," Anderson said skeptically, "That Cerberus used a stolen material in order to pass this machine off as Shepard as an infiltration unit?"

"Technically, they wouldn't be passing it off. Based on DNA results, which can be proven inconclusive if false, but with the combination of whatever MSE testing that Benz managed to pull off, I state again that we can definitively conclude that it definitely is Shepard in there."

Anderson's gaze could have shattered steel as he now looked at the cyborg for even a hint of familiarity as Isaacson continued, "Back to what I was saying, the polymer can replicate human movement through artificial nerves which is why the upper portion of his face can move like that. If his entire body was coated, then he would have the capacity to essentially pose as a human exactly. We checked the measurements and they're the same as what we have on file for him, even the weight is similar albeit not exact due to the heavy nature of the materials involved, but still lighter than what we were expecting. His hydraulic limbs allow him to pulverize certain objects and jump higher distances while the combat software embedded in his mind grants him complete and total control of his surroundings."

"But…" Hackett paused, "It's still Shepard…"

"That's the idea. We haven't been able to talk to him much but now that you're here, maybe he'll finally open up."

"I wanted to question him regardless," Anderson growled, "I still want to look him in the eye…or whatever he has now, and see for myself whether it is Shepard or not."

"Better you than me," Bailey muttered under his breath.

The door slid open and Shepard perked up slightly to the lone sound. His eyes automatically turned to the entrance and he was somewhat unsurprised to see two familiar faces walk towards him on the other end of the table. They were the two he had been requesting, after all.

Anderson's and Hackett's expressions were grim, stone-faced, which was to be expected. Perhaps he would have to endure one final round of questioning before he could move on.

Perhaps…

"Anderson," he let the word ring out a moment before he continued, "It's good to see you again." He now tilted his head towards the other man, "And Admiral Hackett, I'm glad that you were able to come."

No one spoke as each coldly regarded the other, as if his visitors were unwilling to accept the truth that had been thrust into their faces so suddenly, so unexpectedly. To see a long lost comrade, back from the dead, is a sobering experience for even the most stoic of men.

Anderson crossed his hands as he leaned forward onto the desk before he tested the waters, "Who are you?"

Shepard matched the councilor's movements, "Commander John Shepard. But they told you that already, didn't they? You just threw out that question to confirm for yourself instead of having to rely on the eyewitness account that wasn't a completely trusted source."

"You may be right, but I remain skeptical. Commander Shepard died fifteen months ago."

"And yet here I am."

"And yet you are. You may sound like him, you may even think you're him, but how can you prove that you're really him?"

"What do you want from me?"

Hackett, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, now chose his moment to speak, "The truth. We want a debriefing of your whereabouts from the moment we supposedly lost you."

Metal shoulders rose in a shrug, "My guess on what went on during those fifteen months is as good as yours. The Normandy was attacked, I was spaced, and along the way Cerberus managed to get its filthy paws off me." He slowly blinked his glowing eyes, "But this could have been avoided. You deliberately stopped looking for me mere days after I died. Why was that, admiral? Why, Anderson? Why did the Council, whom I fought for and defended, suddenly decided to ignore everything I'd done? Give me an answer to that first, and then you'll have yours."

Anderson sighed, "You have to understand-"

"No, I most certainly do not have to understand!"

"Okay, okay," Anderson raised his arms to calm him down, "You have to believe me when I tell you that I did not approve of the decision, but once the Council had heard enough testimonies from the surviving crew of the Normandy, they ceased all search and rescue operations."

"Why?"

"Their official response was that it was too dangerous to have a large task force operate so far into the Terminus systems. But I knew better, even though they never cut me in on their machinations. I think that they took the opportunity to quell any rumors you brought up while you were chasing Saren. The things you said, you made them afraid…if you can remember that at all." The last part carried a thinly disguised tone of disgust, but Shepard detected it all the same.

"Of course I remember warning the Council about the Reapers. From the sound of things, I would have to guess that they haven't taken any extra precautions about my advice to be prepared."

The human councilor shrugged, "They chose to believe that Sovereign was a geth ship and that Saren had managed to manipulate the geth into following him. Not that it was part of a sentient and ancient race of machines responsible for the extermination of all life in the galaxy."

"Those blind fools…" Shepard growled, "Joker told me as much but hearing it from you...I didn't want to believe that it was possible."

He continued to fume in silence as Anderson and Hackett regarded him. Cold fingers tapped at the metal surface from whatever reach the cuffs on his arms allowed. The councilor cautiously slid his chair forward so he could be more personable with the cyborg.

"You...you came here for a reason. The Shepard that I knew would not do something so rash without a plan. If you can help us understand what it is you want-"

"-I can tell you what the only reason for my coming here is. What it is I need." Shepard straightened in his seat, "I need my life back."

Sensing hesitation from his company, he pressed on, "I see how you look at me. It's the same how I've been treated ever since I woke up. It's always comprised of the same glance of disgust, an eye of loathing. How do you think that makes me feel? To be a pariah in an instant? I hate it. I hate this body, I hate how people can't react to me normally anymore, I hate it all. If it weren't for the fact that a few people managed to accept me, albeit begrudgingly, I would have killed myself long before even considering to come here."

The sight of the former human seethe gave chills to the organics sitting in the room as the abhorrent voice continued, "After all that you are going to ask me, you will eventually come to your own conclusions on who I am, but once you realize that I am Shepard, you will do what I ask. Consider it your penance for simply letting me go." He raised a skeletal hand for emphasis, "Fix this. I don't care if this skeleton remains my body, but I don't want it to be seen. Not by anyone, not even me. I want to have skin again, I want to be normal."

Anderson grimaced, "You speak as if we were the ones who caused you your pain. You demand normality but we cannot just merely give you your life back."

"But had you done more, I could have been spared pain. I would not be in Cerberus' hands, but in a nice quiet grave back on Earth. I've gotten to the point where I've had enough. I know I can't swap my body, but I can hide it." He gazed intensely at Anderson, "And I know the Alliance can make that possible."

"We can," Hackett said, mouth a thin line, "But you're going to have to do better than that."

"Maybe you can start by telling us what happened when you woke up," Anderson offered.

Shepard glanced back and forth between the two, slowly letting his head face each other before going back to its original position. Rolling his metal head in an imitation of loosening up, he scooted forward, clasping his hands together as he quietly fumed, "This better be the last time I have to explain myself…"

Hackett and Anderson both looked like they aged ten years once they stepped out the door. Ignoring any questions from their peers in the observation room, they walked out into the hallway and gestured to the guards manning the entrance. Hackett nodded to Anderson as he moved toward the far end of the hallway towards the elevator bay. Anderson, meanwhile, immediately moved to the next room further down the hall as the soldiers prepared to move Shepard and waved to the observer for access.

Once the light flashed green on the door in front of them, he moved into to address the two sitting in the other interrogation room. Anderson should have been surprised to see that there was a third person in the room as well but the conversation with Shepard had left him emotionally drained.

"Commander Alenko," Anderson said tiredly, showing a hint of warmth, "This is unexpected. I didn't know you were called." Both him and the biotic shook hands, the latter a strong, strapping man who was dressed in Alliance casuals. His combed hair was carefully parted and there was an air of resignation on him.

"Councilor," Kaidan nodded, saluting to Hackett. "I actually got a message from this one here," motioning a hand at Joker, who waved sheepishly, Garrus rolling his eyes beside him, "And I wanted to come as quickly as possible. What happened?"

"Yes, sir," Joker said as he adjusted his cap, "What went on? Did you talk to Shepard?"

Anderson eyed the trio before grabbing a spare chair and sitting down beside Kaidan. Joker and Garrus were not cuffed to the table as Shepard was and they maneuvered their seats so that they could better view the human.

"I did," he breathed, "And...Shepard is going to be fine."

Garrus banged the table with his hand, "Yes! I knew he'd get through."

"He's being taken to surgery now. No telling when they'll be finished but I've been assured that he'll be up and running in a week, max."

"So, it really is Shepard…" Kaidan muttered as he stared off into space.

"We couldn't convince him until you got here, sir," Joker turned to Anderson, "He thought that we had been duped by a Cerberus trick."

"Well," Garrus offered, "From our standpoints that's what we all thought when we first met the resilient bastard. It's just...I'm glad he's finally getting some closure."

"I'll admit that it was tough to believe, but that is Shepard in that room. However, he won't be the same again," Anderson shook his head, "He will be confined to that body for the rest of his life. What the docs down there are doing is making him look more presentable."

"Presentable?" Kaidan asked, "How?"

"Cosmetic adjustments such as a flash-cloned epidermis, and some minor tweaking with various bits of hardware. He will look like himself again, but Shepard will have to adjust to the fact that he will not be able to return to normal. When he died, everything changed for him."

Garrus looked confused, "But what's going to happen to him afterward?"

"We're just going to have to take this one step at a time," Anderson sighed. "We've cleared him on any Cerberus affiliation, which should be enough to get him to reaffirm his allegiance to the Council in order to retain his Spectre status. After that, well…" The hint of a smile flashed across his face, "After that, we'll see if we can get him back up to speed. It wouldn't do to have him lazing around, would it?"

"Hot damn!" Joker crowed before suddenly stopping in embarrassment, "Does this mean that…?"

"Yes, Joker," Anderson laughed, "I took the liberty of pardoning for your involvement in a terrorist organization as well because I know that making that decision in your case was warranted by a series of unfortunate conclusions made by this Council. For that, I apologize and have hereby assigned you under Shepard's command for any future assignments should the man decide to get back in the game."

Joker straightened in his seat and snapped off a salute, "Thank you, sir."

"Councilor," Garrus started nervously, "Sir, would by any chance-"

"I have no authority over you, Vakarian," Anderson shrugged, "The decision for you to stay can only be given by Shepard and I suspect that he would want you around, he would want you all around with him. This man needs to heal and it would do to have his comrades-in-arms by his side for that."

Now it was Kaidan's turn to look confused, "Anderson, does this mean…?"

"It means that you will be placed under Shepard's command again, Commander Alenko. However," he added with a wink, "If you feel that your skills would be best needed elsewhere, I could certainly accomodate-"

"Negative on that, sir," Kaidan beamed as his gaze swept the entire room, "It will be great to work with the crew again, sir."

Joker's grin was so wide it was contagious, "Now we're getting the band back together!"

Shepard's escort flashed a badge to the guard in front of the surgery wing. The man nodded and opened it to let the human and cyborg through. C-Sec's medical bay was a treasure trove in terms of valuable equipment and raw talent. The various procedures that were performed on organics were arranged by floors. Shepard's department of interest took place on the fifth floor, which was reserved for military use.

C-Sec truly didn't have control over all its properties. Rather, it leased various departments out to whoever was willing to rent the equipment out. Everything from biotech corporations to planetary militaries all had some stake with the material that C-Sec had managed to accumulate over the years. It had gotten to the point where they simply marked out an entire floor filled with the most popular equipment for lease and maintained a discreet but open acknowledgment about the use of its equipment.

Alliance soldiers were clustered more heavily around one such particular room and it was here that Shepard passed through alone, the escort having done his duty to the letter. The area was filled with half a dozen white-coated technicians and doctors while in the center lay a cylindrical glass tube, heavy machinery surrounding it on all sides, save for the entrance.

Entirely clad in white, a doctor motioned for him to step inside the tube, to which he did so compliantly. A harness, perpendicular to the floor, was the only thing standing inside and it took the help of three to properly secure him to it to prevent his limbs from flailing around. Once that had been completed, a tray was brought over and the technicians began hooking various tubes from the top of the cylinder to his body. External ports located in his chest provided direct access to key systems. A hose was strapped in to keep him properly hydrated and smaller tubes were attached so that the proper drug dosage could be administered to his bloodstream directly, through the use of a small port located behind the grey armor in front of the synthsac.

Shepard could only stare straight ahead as the men ducked beneath his field of vision, tinkering with his inner workings before they stepped aside. Double-checking their procedures, they gave a thumbs up to the specialist manning the systems controls. A few seconds later, there was a distinct whoosh of air as it was pumped into his lungs directly, another tube filtering out the carbon dioxide. There was a dripping noise and Shepard peered down to see that the chamber was slowly flooding with water. Had he not been more informed he would have panicked right then. Skin treatments required the use of a buoyant medium for proper coverage and sensitivity purposes. A procedure like this could simply not be done any other way.

The water was up to his waist now but Shepard did not so much as flinch. Rather, he closed his eyes and let the coldness seep around him, encase him, and transport him away. When the liquid completely covered him, he could still feel the air pumping in and out of his body in a steady rhythm, the hoses perfectly sealed to the outside environment.

There was now a feeling of cold fluid within him but it was not from the tank. Rather, it was from the combination of drugs that were now flooding his system directly through his bloodstream. The feeling was intense, he was freezing. The cold seemed to be reaching all throughout his body, a sensation he hadn't felt before in a long time. The icy fingers stretched toward his brain and he relaxed as the blackness swallowed him up.

It seemed like mere moments had passed before he closed his eyes until they suddenly snapped open, mind clear of the drugs that had permeated it. His vision stretched beyond his glass prison so much that he could see all of the expressions on his caretakers. They all seemed relaxed, calm, some even putting on warm smiles.

Did it work? Am I back?

He opened his mouth to ask his questions but all that elicited was a gigantic bubble as it frothed to the surface. He stared upward as the water level immediately descended and awaited for the moment that the air would touch him again. There was a faint prickle as the top of his head slowly became exposed, but it quickly escalated into a burn.

Shepard jerked in his bonds as more and more of him was being freed from the water. Everywhere the water slid off felt like he was on fire. What was going on? It felt like he had been dipped in corrosive acid. He spat the water from his mouth as he yelled in pain, limbs rattling in place. Technicians beyond the threshold shouted for him to calm down but he paid them no mind. Fluid flowed off him, causing his skin to prickle as the slightest brush of air passed over it.

He stopped thrashing long enough to adjust to the sensation.

Skin.

Shepard desperately tried to stop trembling long enough to peer down at himself. When he did, he let out a low sob as his body came into view. Aside from the errant tube poking out of his body, the sight of his familiar, pink covering caused him to open and close his mouth incoherently. The muscle on his person was just as defined when he last remembered it, save for the fact that it was completely smooth; the scars that he'd accumulated during the hunt for Saren had been completely erased.

A fresh start, a new turn.

By now, the cylinder had been completely drained and four doctors were now inside, uncoupling the tubes attached to his body and adjusting his harness so that he was now parallel to the floor. Moans were the only noises coming from his body as he continued to feel his skin smolder. Shepard's eyesight blurred and he lifted a free hand to wipe away the intruding filter. When a fleshy hand touched his face, he stopped. He could feel the warmth, instead of the dull prickle that had come from any touch when it was just his metal appendage, the full range of temperature flowed through his fingertips, the sensations flaring with joy in his brain.

"It's…" he sputtered, "It's…"

Exactly what "it" was never had a chance to fully vocalize from Shepard's mouth because the last tube in his chest was held up to the light as a doctor inserted a syringe into it. As he watched the clear substance race towards him, he only had time to groan out loud before the lights went out again.

The transition from limbo to alert was much less sudden this time. Gradually, he let his eyes open and adjust to the ambient light rather than have his overloaded system jar him out immediately. He could see that the room he was in was a regular room that one would find in a hospital, much like the one he had found himself in when he escaped from Cerberus.

Unlike that dismal place, the entire place was much more pleasing and accommodating to the eye. The bed he was on was soft and comfy. A simple desk stood beside it and a window overlooking the Presidium streamed warm light into his room.

Positioning him in an upright position, he winced as he felt himself itch all over. Acting on instinct, he reached a hand to scratch and sighed in pleasure as the feeling produced tingles. Even though he technically had not been simply a metal robot for very long, he vowed never to take such sensations for granted. He reflected that Tali was probably in a similar state of mind, her being encased inside an enviro-suit, unable to enjoy simple pleasures such as skin in the open air, having nothing to impede it. He clenched a fist at the very thought of her, frowning. There were so many things he wanted to do now but he could scarcely focus on one single thought, his mind was racing.

He gingerly swept his feet over the edge of the bed, noting that he was wearing a standard hospital gown. It was made of a sheer and light material and Shepard surreptitiously glanced down to see how extensive the procedure had been, walking over to a mirror in the corner. He needn't have worried, everything had been replicated exactly as it was, as he was about to see. No longer viewing a skull for a face, he sighed in relief as his normal, chiseled face smiled back at him in the reflective surface. His scars may have been removed on his torso, but he did note that the one on top of his head, near his bangs was kept intact. He would have to ask about that later.

On cue, the door opened and a smiling man in a white coat stepped into sight. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and had a full head of thick, black hair. Shepard turned quickly and relaxed his posture once he saw the man head toward him with an arm outstretched.

"Commander Shepard?" the man began, "I'm Dr. Luther. My team and I have been working on you nonstop for the past three days. I thought I'd come in and give you the rundown, face-to-face."

Shepard touched his chest in surprise after releasing Luther's hand, "Three days? That long?" He quickly scanned the room to find a place to sit and successfully found a chair. Luther pulled up one from a nearby table so that they could talk more easily.

"Organ replication is a long and arduous process, commander," Luther said as he nodded sagely, "Add to the fact that yours was one of the few full body procedures we've ever done and you're guaranteed at least a two day stay in the tube."

"At least I was out for that time," Shepard scratched the back of his neck as he spoke.

"Well, you also spent two extra days recuperating in this very bed. We only lessened your dosage six hours ago so that you could naturally come out of your mini-coma, as opposed to that rather rude awakening back there."

Shepard gave a quick laugh, "I've had worse."

"So I've heard. But anyway, as your doctor I have to ask, how are you feeling? I know that your skin must be itching like hell right about now and trust me when I say that it'll pass in time. But is there any other discomfort that I'm not aware of?"

"Aside from the itching all over my body, which you mentioned, I'm fine. It...it feels like my skin. Although it seems to be rather chilly in here right now-"

"Your new skin is just going through a period of hypersensitivity. This is common for all cloned organs, you just need to let it adjust. Oh, and the marks on your chest from the tubes? Those will heal over in a few days, nothing to worry about."

"Cloned organs?" Shepard arched an eyebrow, noting that he could at least perform this motion and have it look natural.

"Oh yes. We can't just use skin donations for such a radical procedure. You would have permanent scarring that would resemble a jigsaw puzzle which probably wouldn't sit well with you. Instead, we used previous scans to create a template for the farm to develop. Digital artists created a render of what you looked like and added your facial features, painstakingly replicated from your records, in order to bring your image back."

"Where did you get the scans?"

"You didn't really think that those decontamination protocols on all of our ships simply decontaminated did you?"

Shepard looked quizzical, "There was never anything to support the fact that they performed any other function. I guess I should be grateful for that."

"Maybe so. Do you have any questions regarding the specifics of the, ahem, new you?"

"Actually, yes," Shepard raised an arm for emphasis, "I'm kind of surprised that you managed to make this skin warm. I mean, considering the fact that there is no circulation underneath, there should be no reason-"

"Ah," Luther waggled a finger with a twinkle in his eye, "That's one of the more ingenious aspects we came up with. We installed a nano-weave of heat emitters into the epidermis itself. What you have there is a complex structure of skin, muscle, tissue, and nanotechnology. The weave emulates the feeling of natural body heat so that people wouldn't be caught off guard when you move in to give them a handshake, case in point." He raised his own arm to match Shepard's with a smile. "Not expecting us to be that detailed, huh?"

"I'll admit, it is a welcome surprise. But is there...you know...anything you had to leave out?"

Now Luther laughed for a few seconds before answering, "Don't worry, Shepard. It's you through and through. Every conceivable aspect is where it should be. We had to make some adjustments to some more prominent features such as your eyes and teeth, in the cosmetic sense, but you are able to experience the sensations that all humans do. That is mostly thanks to the accommodating design of what is technically your new skeleton. Built into the base of the neck was a specific slot that allowed for artificial nerve fibers to be installed in case the addition was deemed necessary by the original designers. That is why you are able to have your sense of touch back. We took the liberty of installing our own fibers and connected them to your brain stem while you were out in the drink. I think it's safe to say that you now have a completely functioning nervous system again and you're essentially back to your normal self."

The good news swept over the commander, causing him to break out in a grin, "What were the changes to my eyes and teeth?"

"Like I said, purely cosmetic. We had to swap out your optics for regular colored ones so your eyes are blue again instead of that nasty orange. Also, your teeth were also replaced for natural ivory colored ones instead of black. Wouldn't want people to think that you took a sugar binge while you were away, right?"

As Shepard slumped in his chair, stunned, Luther put his hand on his chin and continued, "Although, I do have to advise you, that did have to make some major modifications to your structure during surgery."

Shepard glanced over, "Such as?"

"Well, in order to conform to your body shape exactly, we had to remove those pieces of grey armor that you were partially encased in."

"And that's a problem, how?"

"It isn't exactly a problem, but it does mean a few developments that you might have been in the process of getting used to. Right now, it means that you are more vulnerable to gunfire, should you venture back out in the field as you will not have this covering to protect you any longer. That means that you can be hurt, just the same as any one of us."

Shepard pinched the inside of his arm, "This skin feels pain?"

"Pain, pleasure, anything you can think of. It even bleeds, in small amounts, though. You have a thin layer of blood between the outer epidermis and the muscle, like it is on any body. That was done for the blood to act as a lubricant between the two layers and to make it seem to other people that you're more man than machine, in case you just so happened to get wounded again."

The worn lines on his palm seemed to stand out, from Shepard's perspective. He regarded the limb with a careful curiosity, as if he had plunged into a wonderful dream, and that he could wake up at any moment. The itching had subsided drastically by now, as had the cold, and Shepard breathed in, letting his nose filter in all the air it could take. He breathed out from his mouth, letting the warmth flow past his tongue and lips, letting unused senses completely trap him in its surrounding embrace.

"My god," he mused, "It's uncanny."

"At the very least," Luther said as he rose from his chair, "It was an honor to help you along, Commander Shepard. I hope you think of my team's efforts as satisfactory."

Shepard held out a hand for Luther to shake, who gripped it firmly, "Your efforts were more than satisfactory, doctor. And the honor was mine."

With a gracious nod of the head, Luther backed out of the room and left Shepard to his thoughts. Aimlessly drumming away with his fingers on the table, Shepard sighed at the sudden quiet. The padded noises from his fingers drew a big grin on his face as the reverberations traveled up them, delivering the pressure signals to the intended source.

"The honor was all mine…"

A/N: So I began the rather unfortunate practice of writing these chapters at the office when I should be doing actual work. Hell, I have a lot of free time over there so why not make the most of it? This way, I'll be able to churn out chapters faster rather than my rather pathetic output at the moment.

Expect the next chapter to finally get this series back on familiar ground. Should be out by Friday if I get enough time in!