"You two are a goddamn disgrace!"

Both of us – Shepard and I – winced at Lt. Zabaleta's yell. Me, because being yelled at by superiors was something I still hadn't gotten used to. Adorable, I know. Shepard, because, well, I had the feeling she had been waiting for the hammer to fall ever since I found her hiding at the hangar, and now it was falling. But the thing is, I didn't think Zabaleta was referring to Shepard and I when he said "you two".

"I gave you two the easiest goddamn jobs in the ship! Look after a kid, and babysit the civilians! And look at the mess you made, two hours running up and down the ship like idiots, while Chief Archer was stuck with a thumb up his ass by the airlock!"

Yep, Gomes and I. We did run all over the ship like idiots looking for Shepard.

He paused, under the dirty look the chief medical officer threw at him. There were people coming and going into the medbay constantly, and every time the door opened, the voice of Zabaleta probably woke up the patients in surgery. Just outside the medbay was probably not the best place to have it out, but Zabaleta had found me as soon as the medical staff had given me the all clear.

"It was my fault," I heard Shepard said, her voice thin and weak. "They-"

"Yeah, that crossed my mind," Zabaleta interrupted her, his voice still harsh. He took a step closer to her, and I felt her shifting, almost like she wanted to slip behind me but didn't. "You are a guest aboard a military vessel! When the captain gives an order, we follow the order! We act as a single unit, and we don't just dilly-dally around when we are in the middle of an operation!"

I barely twitched, and the lieutenant nailed me to the spot with a single look, almost daring me to say anything. I didn't, of course, and neither did Shepard.

"So if you can't follow orders, then I'll have to make sure you don't have a choice. Kowalsky!"

"Sir!" a private replied, stepping towards us.

"Escort the civilian to the brig."

Wait, WHAT?

"S-"

"Is there a problem Jinx?" Zabaleta snapped, interrupting me and looking at me straight in the eye.

I really don't know what I was trying to say, or if I was even thinking of saying something. Something pulled at my arm, and I realized it was Shepard.

"It's okay," she muttered, and repeated it when I opened my mouth to speak. "It's okay."

Grinding my teeth together, I took a step back and straightened up, giving Shepard another glance. She was avoiding looking at me in the eye, and that really bothered me.

"On the double Kowalsky!" Zabaleta snapped.

"Yes sir!"

He put his hand on Shepard's shoulder, and led her away without a peep from her. I watched them go through the corner of the eye, until the airlock closed behind them.

"Jinx," Zabaleta said.

"Sir," I replied, my voice dry but not so much that it'd sound disrespectful. In truth, it fucking sucked, but I could see his point. What annoyed the hell out of me was that it was my responsibility. If he was going to throw someone in the brig, it should have been me.

"The last thing I want is for her to wander round the ship when it's a fucking mess and we're still patching her up," he said, looking in the direction Shepard had disappeared.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, that small detail aside," Zabaleta said, turning to look at me. "Damn good job you and Gomes did down there. We'd have been in a world of shit if the goddamn 'tarians had taken the bay." He shook his head as he spoke. "Freaking eggheads, we came in fucking blind."

I didn't say anything because he hadn't asked me anything, and moreover, I was a little shocked by the sudden praise.

"Regardless, good job."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now get your ass up to the range and help the range master clean up." Zabaleta noticed my eyes wandering towards the medbay, but he just shook his head. "Can't help her, kid. All you can do is stay out of the way and let the doctors work."

I turned to look at the Lieutenant, and he gave me a nod. Like he understood.

I bet he does.

"Yes, sir."

"She's a tough fucking marine. If someone can pull through, that's Gomes. Now scram."

I snapped a salute, and was about to turn and leg it for the lifts when the Lieutenant stopped me.

"Oh, and Jinx."

"Sir?"

"If you can snipe batarians at combat range in our goddamn hangar bay, you sure as hell can pass the marksmanship test. So get to the range and pass it already, you're starting to piss me off."

"Yes sir!"

I had been working on my sniping pretty hard, and I thought I was doing it under a lot of pressure from the drill sergeant, and later the range master. But I hadn't really understood just how different the kind of pressure one feels during actual combat can be. There was a difference between trying to make the shot to avoid being chewed up by the drill sergeant, and trying to make the shot because missing it would mean everyone fucking dies, Shepard included.

Lining up a target with that kind of pressure, that kind of desperate need to make the shot, that was something else. The feeling that trying to line up targets carefully was a waste of time, that it wasn't that important to hit everything every time, I had had it burned out of my head and I didn't even notice.

I made twenty-four out of twenty-four during the marksmanship test that day.

Hey Marie,

It's been a while. Sorry I didn't write before, I didn't even know if you'd want to hear from me.

I just figured I'd give you an update with Lana. Last week she ran away from home, I only found out when I called her over FTL on Sunday. She's okay, we found her after a couple of days. Turns out the foster family she ended up with was a freaking disaster, so after some wrangling I ended up pulling her from there.

She's going to be staying with me, so now I'm officially her legal guardian. I don't know how we'll make it work with me still having six weeks of bootcamp, but we'll manage somehow.

Anyway, just a little update. Hope things are okay with you.

Take care,

Roy.-

The brig. It was a small room, with nothing but a cot, a toilet, and a small light embedded on the wall. The only door was a heavy slab of metal, locked, of course, with only a narrow window allowing to see the outside. Not that there was much to see anyway. It occurred to her that it was exactly what she had wanted, a small dark place to hide away from all the noise.

But it wasn't.

I screwed up, that's why I'm here.

Perhaps it was the fact that she felt like she deserved it, that it was a punishment. Or maybe it was the guard that came every so often to check on her. She wasn't really hiding away. Her screw up had landed both Roy and Gomes in a hell heap of trouble, specially Gomes. She had screwed up, and Gomes had landed her in medbay; assuming she even survived.

And she was angry. She was angry at herself, and she was angry at Roy, too. She was angry at having to rely on him like that. And every time, there was something that went wrong. And whenever it did, she felt he was putting everything on her. And, and, and. Her mind was spinning in place, not getting any traction. It had been two days now, but all she could get was one thought.

It was her fault.

She curled up on the cot, arms around her knees, legs against her chest. The small light in the cell was too damn bright. She wanted darkness. She felt too exposed there, she didn't want anyone to see her.

The sound of steps intruded into her thoughts, getting slowly louder as they drew closer. They were slower than before. Way slower.

Odd.

Her eyes stayed glued to the narrow slit, waiting for the guard to pass by.

Keep walking, just keep walking...

The opening darkened, she couldn't see who was on the other side. Then, to her surprise, the door clanked loudly and started opening.

"Hey there kid."

It took her a while to process what she had heard. That was Gomes.

"Mind if I come in?" Gomes continued. "Kinda hurts to just stand here," she added with a grin.

Shepard didn't answer, which Gomes apparently thought was an invitation to waltz in and sit down on the cot by her. Shepard didn't look at the marine, she didn't want to say anything. What could she say?

Sorry I nearly got you killed? Great.

"How are you doing?" Gomes said.

Shepard shrugged.

"I have to say," Gomes continued, looking around, and suppressing a wince when she turned her head a little too far. "This place hasn't chanced one bit. Course, last time I was here I had a massive headache and a black eye."

That managed a side glance from Shepard. If Gomes was going to be there, she'd rather her just talk about herself.

"Bit too much fun during shore leave," Gomes said, and winked at Shepard. "You had to be there."

"I guess..."

"Come on, it's not so bad. It's nice and quiet down here. Tranquilito."

Gomes winced again, trying to settle herself more comfortably. Shepard looked at her do it, and finally couldn't keep it any longer.

"Are you okay?"

"Who, me? Hah! This is nothing nena, nada," she replied, rubbing her hands dismissively.

"Sorry."

"Sorry? Why you got to be sorry about?"

"It's my fault. You... you almost died, and-"

"Now, wait a minute," Gomes interrupted. "True, we were going all over the ship like a couple of morons looking for you, but look what happened. If it weren't for you, neither of us would have been there to stop the 'tarians."

"They wouldn't have shot you..."

"And they'd have fucked up the ship. They were right by engineering." Gomes turned again, and Shepard saw the pain in every move she made. Why was she down there? She should have been in bed.

"But they shot you," Shepard insisted.

"Part of the job," Gomes said with a small shrug. "Not the kind of thing you want to sign up for, I hope."

Shepard opened her mouth, closed it again, and gave Gomes a suspicious look.

"Did Roy send you?"

Gomes started laughing suddenly, wincing and grabbing her side as she did. It looked both comical and painful at the same time, and Shepard didn't know whether to try and help her or stay back. Her obvious hesitation, with her hands getting closer to Gomes, and then pulling back before she touched her, made Gomes laugh even harder.

"Ah, ah nena, you..." Gomes finally said, getting herself under control. "You are smart, you know that?"

"He did," Shepard replied, and her voice came out dry.

Gomes put her hand on Shepard's shoulder. "I was coming down anyway, and he ain't allowed."

"Right."

"What, you don't think he would come if he could?"

"Of course he would," Shepard replied, the words dragging themselves between her teeth. "He always does, doesn't he?"

"… what?" Gomes said, taking her hand off Shepard's shoulder.

"Always getting me out of trouble, why bother. What's the point. Shouldn't have come."

"Nena, what are you talki-"

"I hate him," Shepard said, interrupting her.

For a moment, the air felt like a ghost had moved through, dropping the temperature to below freezing. It was such a shocking declaration that Gomes could only stare at Shepard, mouth agape. Shepard didn't return the favour, instead she obstinately looked at a spot three feet from where she was sitting. A dark spot was on the floor, she couldn't figure out what the shape reminded her of.

"Bullshit," Gomes finally said, after a pause that could have lasted several hours. Shepard just shook her head. "He came all the way here for you, you wanted to stay with him, and now you say you hate him? Estás loca, nena."

"I hate..." Shepard's voice trailed off.

"No you don't." Gomes waited again. It was like trying to pull a tooth out. "Fine, I'll bite. Why do you hate him?"

"…"

"Well?"

"Why did he save me...?" Shepard finally muttered. It wasn't the question. Or maybe it was. It wasn't exactly what she wanted to know. But maybe it would be enough for Gomes.

"You could ask him, you know," Gomes replied. "He looks like he'd tell ya."

"I guess..."

"But that ain't what you really want to ask him, is it?"

The only reason Shepard didn't curse was because she simply wasn't in the habit of doing so. As it was, her tell was obvious enough, looking away from Gomes and shrinking ever so slightly on the cot.

"So what's so bad then, huh? What did he do to you?"

"He... he saved me..."

"… and?" Gomes prompted.

"And he didn't save them." She turned to look at Gomes in the eye. She would have wanted to cry, but it had been a long while since she had been able to. She simply couldn't. "He didn't save my family."

"He didn't? When?"

"Back on Mindoir."

Shepard looked away, her eyes unfocused as she tried to look inwards. Back to that day. It was hard to remember, it was so hard to remember. No matter how much she tried, it was a blur. A feeling, the sheer terror as the batarian overpowered her, then... Not a lot. Roy. Her family. She knew she had seen them, she just couldn't remember what was real and what wasn't. Her dad, her brother, her mother. She couldn't remember who it was she had seen.

"Knowing him, I'm sure he tried."

"He didn't," Shepard said, and the bitterness in her voice was thick enough to be tasted. "He left them, left them but came to save me."

"How do you know?"

"He told this shrink... I can't remember her name. He thought I wasn't listening."

Gomes didn't answer at first. She was looking at Shepard, thinking. She didn't take long, though.

"Must have been a reason. Doesn't seem the type to me, nena."

"Doesn't seem the type... Look at how he comes every time," Shepard replied. "He could have saved them the same. He could have."

"Tell ya what, I'll ask him."

"NO!"

Gomes looked at Shepard, a small smile on her face. Like she had expected Shepard's answer.

What now?

"It's okay nena. That's how you feel, that's how you feel. Don't mean it's the truth."

It's true.

"No it ain't." Gomes gave Shepard another look, one that said she knew exactly what she was thinking.

"And how do you know?" Shepard said.

"I know him," Gomes replied with a shrug. "He's that type, what you see is what you get. He's not so hard to figure out, he's that kind of guy."

Shepard opened her mouth, closed it, then shook her head. What was the point, she couldn't know. How it felt. How she felt. She was still trying to figure it out herself.

"My old man was a marine too, you know. Operations chief aboard the Moscow. Good times, we got to see the whole damn galaxy thanks to that." Gomes laid her back to the wall, wincing as she slowly found the right way to place her wounded back on a good spot. "Five years ago, we get lieutenant Brown for a visit. Bad op, people died... Dad never made it."

Shepard glanced at Gomes, but the marine wasn't looking at her.

"I was pissed off, you know. Back then I was really pissed off. At everyone. At the corps, at the Alliance... I ended up joining out of spite. Had something to prove, you know." She looked at Shepard and grinned. "Let me tell you, going through bootcamp with something to prove, against the corps? That was less fun than it sounds."

Shepard waited, but Gomes wasn't talking. Finally, curiosity got the better of her.

"So what happened?"

"Nothing too dramatic, Shepard." Gomes nodded. "Just learned the hard way. Shit happens. No matter how hard we try."

She reached out and put her hand on Shepard's shoulder.

"Not what you wanted to hear, I know," Gomes finished.

It really wasn't.

Thanks for your mail, Roy. I really wanted to hear that I was wrong about Ali and you too, don't forget to keep me updated with everything else I've ever screwed up.

Marie.

We never got to see the cleanup of the op, because we were shipped out with one of the frigates, three days after the start of the op. Off to Arcturus with the best wishes of the crew. And this time, I wasn't being sarcastic. It wasn't a wasted trip just for us, the frigate was bringing back close to fifty people who were in need of long-term medical assistance, so it was packed. The Einstein could take care of herself and her crew, but it was best to send the wounded back and get fresh boots in.

So off we went to Arcturus. Shepard acted weird the whole trip. Not that She had a reason to be cheery, but bugger me if I didn't feel like she was trying to avoid me.

Thinking about it, I shouldn't have been surprised. I left her to be taken into the freaking brig, and I didn't even have a chance to pay her a visit. But... she didn't seem pissed about that.

So, all in all, it was a quiet and very awkward trip. We got to Arcturus late in the local evening, and had to take a quick detour to get ourselves some groceries before the shops closed. After that, it was off to find our new digs. My single, tiny studio was not enough for the two of us, so the Alliance had upgraded us. The new apartment was as tiny as the one I had before, only it had an extra attached room with a second bed. So, Shepard took the room, and I took the main room with the wall-mounted cot.

Yeah, it was like being a student all over again.

"Well, it's not big, but you've got your own room at least," I said, after our very quick tour was done.

"Yeah."

"Anyway, you've got all you need for tomorrow," I said, dropping the bags on her bed. "School and everything."

"I know," she replied, dropping down right next to the bags.

I hesitated, not sure what to do. Nagging her some more seemed rather stupid, but this time she did sound like she was completely shut down. And not only that, she sounded resolute to keep me out, too.

"I'll go cook us something," I finally said, turning around and leaving like an idiot.

Fresh produce in Arcturus wasn't cheap, but the station was placed a single jump from Earth, so they did get fresh supplies on the regular. Seasonal produce – seasonal on Earth – was somewhat affordable. And seasonal had changed the meaning quite a bit over the last couple of centuries. Advances in breeding and genetics meant that late autumn was still seasonal enough to get things one could only find during the height of summer back in my day.

I got the vegetables out – courgettes, tomatoes, peppers, and onions – and started chopping. That was one of my favourite dishes, ratatouille. A dish that pretty much every Mediterranean country had a version of, simple but very pleasant. I chopped up the onions first, put a pan on the stove, and after adding a glug of olive oil, set the heat on high.

The stove was somewhat similar to a glass ceramic cooktop from back on the day, and it started glowing brightly as soon as I turned it on.

And giving out a lot of heat.

Too much heat, as it turned out.

"What the-"

There was a loud pop, and a hissing, accompanied by the smell of burning electronics. I quickly tried to shut it off, but it did me no good. I think I was flailing my arms at some point, trying to figure out what to do.

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*

*FWOOOOOSSSSSSHHHHH*

The answer was easy. The overhead smoke alarm started beeping, and a moment later a veritable deluge of foamy water came down on us, flooding the apartment so fast we had to run out like rabbits being chased by foxes.

"What did you do?" Shepard said once we were outside.

We were both soaking wet, and the station maintenance people had come so fast one could think we were in the middle of a war. The first thing they did was ask that very same question, and they didn't seem too convinced by my explanation.

Yelling "Nothing! Honest, nothing!" when someone asks you what you did is not a great response.

"I seriously did nothing," I said, squeezing my shirt and dropping another ladleful to the slowly increasing pool under my feet. "Just turned the stove on."

"Right."

"Okay, you got me. It was a secret plan to see how fast you could run the ten yard dash. I even had a timer set up and everything."

"..."

Ten minutes later we got the all clear. Yup, equipment malfunction. Not my fault.

Mental high five!

After getting some dry clothes – whatever had survived the deluge, which didn't include shoes, unfortunately – we made hay. First stop was the laundromat. Second stop...

"Hi! Welcome to Rob's Relay!" a very perky waitress greeted us. "Just two?"

"Yeah, just two," I replied.

One table by the front window, where we could see all the foot traffic coming and going, and we were all set. I flicked the menu to life, and started browsing. Last time I was there, I didn't get to eat anything substantial, and worse still, it was really reminding me of that time with Marie. The rather short, and apparently rather venomous message I had gotten from her hadn't lifted my spirits.

I seemed to be doing rather well at pissing people off. Maybe the Universe was trying to give me a sign. Stop messing about trying to help people and... get on with helping people for the reapers?

Headache...

"Are you guys ready?" the waitress said, which brought me back to the present. I had the menu open, and I wasn't even looking. "Want to hear the specials?"

"Nah, I'm good," I replied. This was either a good idea, or a terrible idea. "I'll have a pile of ribs, wedges, and a salad to share?" I looked at Shepard as I said that, and she looked up from her own menu. Looking at her face, she hadn't been reading the menu either. "And a large Astro-fizz."

The waitress gave me a quick glance after that, which made me grin. Hell if I cared. She didn't seem to mind much either, I saw her make a bit of a shrug and poke at her datapad. "What about you honey?" she said, looking at Shepard.

"I'll... have the same," she muttered.

""I'll bring ya guys a big plate to share, that allright?"

"Sure," I replied, and off she went.

The ribs were actually quite good, and they definitely gave us a big enough portion quell the appetites of a teenager and a gene-modded recruit in the middle of training. I had a feeling they were used to feed the marines in this place.

"How are the ribs?" I said, looking at the slowly growing pile of bones on Shepard's plate.

"They're okay."

Not as good as your dad's I bet, I thought, not answering it.

What really worried me was the Astro-fizz. She was on her third refill, and it wasn't a small cup either. I made a mental note to check the extranet and find out how much sugar and caffeine was in there.

"Ali."

"Hm?"

"I've got a shuttle back to camp in a couple of hours."

"I know."

I waited her out until she looked up.

"I won't be able to come back until bootcamp's over."

"I know," she insisted, giving me a get to the point shrug.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah?" She took another sip of her drink, and looked at me again. "I told you already, I'm fine. Leave me- I mean, stop worrying about me."

"Okay. I'll call you on Sunday."

Yeah, I really need to learn when to back off.

I was starting to think that the Universe truly hated me. Or at least the gods of time zone application. I left Arcturus late in the evening, with a short shuttle flight back to earth, and arrived to Greyhound Camp at the crack of dawn, just as the camp stirred to life. Which, of course, meant another nearly sleepless night, another time zone adjustment, and another very long day ahead of me. I picked up my bag as soon as we landed, and after thanking the pilot, I legged it to the barracks before the stampede of recruits made it out towards the mess.

"Well, well. The prodigal son returns!"

I had forgotten how much Chyse's voice could grate on my nerves, but at least it was sort of a greeting.

"Well damn," Ramsey added. "I thought you quit."

"Yeah, sorry to disappoint," I deadpanned. "Well, not really."

There were a few chuckles at that, not including Ramsey himself. For what I heard, it didn't sound like anyone really mind that I was back, so there was that. I started unpacking my gear, but I had barely gotten the first gun out when the voice I had missed the most shook the windows of the barracks.

"JINX!" the drill sergeant shouted.

"Sir!" I snapped, standing as upright as I could.

Man, he didn't look happy. At all. Wait, he never looked happy.

"Gear up, I want you at the range in ten minutes!"

"Yes sir!"

Dafuq?

I got odd looks from the rest of the unit, but all I could do was shrug and gear up. I had no clue what the sergeant wanted, I hadn't had time to actually do anything. But orders were orders, which meant no breakfast for me. And not a lot of sleep either, I had just been able to have a nice nap on the shuttle in, but that was about three hours at best. Well, that's what they say. When they tell you to stand, sit. Tell you to sit, sleep. And if they tell you to eat, then eat, because who knows when you'll have another chance to do so.

Or something like that. I like to take liberties with sayings like that one.

I finished the gearing in good time, and legged it towards the range while the rest of my team headed off for some chow. Dammit. Kim promised to save me some, but really, army food isn't something worth saving for anyone.

"Jinx, get in here!" the sergeant called as soon as I was within earshot.

"Sir, recruit Jinx rep-"

"Yeah, yeah, pipe down," he interrupted me, bringing his omni-tool up. "Now, I have your report here from the Einstein, and you're going to have to explain to me how the fuck you managed to falsify an Alliance report!"

"Wha-... Sir?"

"Are you deaf or stupid? I know Captain Kishi and the Einstein's range master, there'd never falsify a report like this! Are you calling them liars?"

"Sir, no sir! I did not alter any report whatsoever, sir!"

"Is that so? Well, why don't you demonstrate for us, then!" He pointed at one of the lanes at the range. "Sniper rifle, twenty-four targets! Now!"

So that's how it's going to be.

I rushed to the lane, where the lights were already flashing, and got into position quickly. The sniper rifle felt perfectly at home in my arms, but the range, not so much. It was weird moving from a virtual range to a real range, no matter how good virtual technology had gotten. But anyway, I didn't have any time. Targets in front of me, a timer ticking down, and a whole lot of pressure being put on my shoulders. All that was missing was Shepard sitting next to me while the enemies marched down on us.

That feeling never left me. Made the rest of the pressure seem trivial. So much so that I barely noticed time passing as I took targets down one by one. Three hundred, five hundred, six hundred. It didn't seem too difficult, like the targets were actually bigger than-

Son of a bitch.

The targets were actually bigger than the ones the range master aboard the Einstein had had me shooting at for almost two weeks.

Sneaky bugger.

"I'll be damned, Jinx. Twenty-four out of twenty-four! Never met anyone so lucky in my life."

"Sir?"

"Were you about to tell me that wasn't luck?"

"Sir, I followed my instructors' orders, sir!"

"We'll see about that, again!"

Freaking hell, was it really so hard to believe I was actually a decent shot? It seemed that way, because the sergeant had me shooting different scenarios all freaking morning, going through the entire weapons load with them. The rest of the recruits joined us too, it was still marksmanship week after all. We were coming to the end of the full training on it, so the scores were still open, with the board recording where we were at score-wise.

A little competitive prodding never hurt anyone, or so they claimed.

"All right Jinx, you have me almost convinced!" the drill sergeant shouted after a particularly nasty combo test with moving targets of variable shielding. Some needed double tap, others needed only one. And they came and went fast.

I missed one, dammit all.

"Sir, yes sir!"

"This will be your final drill! Open ended target acquisition, you have three misses!"

Shit, I knew what that was, but I didn't do any of them aboard the Einstein. The idea was that targets would appear at random distances, with the median distance slowly increasing over time. Go on until you ran out of range (five kilometres, fat chance of that!) or missed a total of three times.

I took a deep breath, settled down better on the ground, and replaced the sniper rifle on the right spot on my shouder. I was fucking tired, but I couldn't let it matter.

This could be a real fight. There were no second chances out there.

"Go!"

Targets started appearing quickly, and goddamn but the pressure was on. In a way, it reminded me of the fight with the batarians. Well, every shooting drill put me in that mindset, but this one was specially bad. On three misses I'd be out. I had to keep the targets at bay for as long as I could. No mission to accomplish, no goal in sight.

Just survive.

My first miss came at a range of only four hundred yards, which both pissed and threw me off so much I nearly followed with my second miss on the next shot. Sloppy, the range master would have made me scrub the entire hull of the Einstein from the outside, with an oxygen supply only if I was lucky. I had to be better than that. In a real fight, that'd have been one of the closest batarians, and I didn't have Gomes to bail me out.

Second miss was at nine hundred and fifty yards. A bad combo of high target on the right, and follow-up on the low left. Bad shift on the ground, I messed up.

Then the targets started getting easier. As they got further away, I had to move less to switch aim. And I could still take enough field of view to follow them.

Single tap. Single tap. I lost myself in it.

Then I missed.

"FUCK!" I shouted, resisting the urge to slam the ground with my sniper rifle. And everything was going so well, too.

I folded the rifle and stood back on my knees, grateful for the movement and the renewed flow of blood to my limbs. Then I turned around, and saw that half the recruits were standing behind me, watching.

And quite a few of them looked shocked too. Including my unit. The only one who didn't look surprised was Kim, she was grinning instead. And Jake, my old buddy was there too, and he looked as proud as if I was his real brother. One of them, at least.

"I'll have you know, Jinx, that you've cost me twenty credits," the drill sergeant said.

"Sir?"

He just pointed at the board over his shoulder, where my name was. Maximum distance, two thousand, three hundred and twenty-five yards.

Hot fucking damn!

First fucking place on the platoon.

"ALL RIGHT LADIES!" the sergeant shouted, turning to the rest of the recruits. "If Jinx can get this score, you lot have a lot of catching up to do! Get moving!"

And so they did. Nobody touched my spot on the open-ended test.

Author's Notes: What do you know, the Alliance training actually works, and Roy is becoming somewhat competent! And yeah, you can't keep a good woman down. You need a tough-as-nails marine, you need someone who can talk to kids, you basically just need to make a problem go away, you call recently-promoted corporal Gomes.

By the way, by today's standards, that sniping distance is ridiculously long, but with the assumption of advanced mass effect based weaponry, aim-aiding VIs, and all that crap, why the heck not. About time Roy got something good.

Lots of reviews again! And follows and favourites, so much so that by the numbers, this is now my most popular fic.

Mizuki00: Yup, the aftermath, as you can see, was quite good. Apparently Roy ranked up on Sniper Rifle.

Archer83: Thanks a lot! Gomes made it after all, and got herself in the middle of it as well. As far as commendations, Roy can't expect much of that, he's still just a recruit!

Unnamed Wanderer: Fate is a hard thing to fight :)

DrStache: Thanks! And yeat, I did laugh when I read the name out loud the first time, but had to keep it in :D

And time moves on. Deadline may feel like it's very far away - deadline for the reapers, that is - but time flies when you're having fun. And when the writer plans timeskips. Thanks for reviewing, following, and more importantly, just plain reading! I hope you enjoyed it.