A few notes from me:
Just as the chapter says: Not Dead Yet! But damn, writing this chapter took a damn longer than expected… But yeah, I have a demanding job, a husband with even less leisure time than me, and way too many hobbies for the few moments I got left… I'm just happy to get anything written down at this point. That being said, I'm still holding on to my goal to finish. As long as it takes. Because I already came this far and now I simply own it to myself to finish (AND I already got the furious finale and the bittersweet epilogue sitting in notes for years now, arrg). Even if no one else is ever reading this (a distinct probability, looking at all the recent likes and comments – precisely none *lol*)

Still, looking at my journey… phew I started in 2012 with a first very crappy version here on FF, followed by about a hundred thousand rewrites… It is sooo ridiculous how many hours I have already spend. How many years have passed... BUT it is still too much fun playing in Bioware's sandbox, and I still love this universe with an insane passion that makes it impossible to let go…

On the chapter: not perfect, but the best I can do at the moment. Unfortunately… it turned out to be much grimmer than anticipated. Sorry for that. It just kinda ran with me that way. But light is ahead. Promise.

Every step we took that synchronized
Every broken bone
Reminds me of the second time
That I followed you home
You showered me with lullabies
Had you walking away
Reminds me that its killing time
On this fateful day

See you at the bitter end

From the time we intercepted
Feels a lot like suicide
Slow and sad, getting sadder
Arise a sitting mine (see you at the bitter end)

Placebo – The Bitter End

Chapter 25 ~ Not dead yet

"What do you mean, he has left the Normandy?"

I stood in the Normandy's airlock along with my gear and arched my brow, waiting for an elaboration. Patiently. With a nice, harmless expression. This one was Zen. This one had absolutely no impulse control issues about shooting messengers at all.

Sensing my stellar mood, Liara gave me that appeasing and annoyingly knowing smile. "We dropped him off Bekenstein and he commuted from there to the Citadel."

Know what? Screw Zen. I threw up my hands with an angry growl. "I get that, but why?"

I didn't need the magnificent perception powers of an ass-old asari matriarch to realize something was off when Grunt and his scouts returned to Tuchanka way ahead of the Normandy and with a disturbing report about Rachni-Reapers in their bags instead.

The asari's face darkened. "Cerberus."

I exhaled and pinched the bridge of my nose. Of course it was too much to hope for that the Illusive Asshole would have just kept sitting on his hands and stayed put. "So, what are we waiting for? Let's go to Bekenstein then; you, me, James. We can take the same way in."

Liara grimaced. "Actually there is something else you need to know. Maybe an hour ago the ship received a transmission from Admiral Hackett. Apparently the quarians have dropped out of hiding and are willing to talk about the war. They'll wait for our emissary in the Far Rim system."

YES. "Finally, some good news. Hackett already sent someone?"

"No, not yet."

Ah. I could tell where this was going, alright.

"And there is more."

I suppressed the urge to yell some obscenities to the high heavens. "Naturally." Once. Just fucking once… "Shoot."

"You also got an urgent audio message from Tali."

"Which you know because…"

The Shadow Broker just gave me a most sheepish shrug.

Yah. Could it be worse than having an over-zealous Cerberus Agent snooping through my correspondence? Eh, probably not. "Alright then. What does the message that surely has not been flagged private say?"

The asari finally had the grace to blush, even if faintly. "Well, in short – shewent up the ranks and is with the Admiralty Board now. And the war the Flotilla is willing to talk about is in fact war against the geth to take back Rannoch."

"They… dammit! What is wrong with those people? Did they forget that there is already an invasion of invincible space AIs just waiting to snuff out all organics?" I took a deep breath, forcing my annoyance down another notch. "Sorry, but I don't get it. The quarians couldn't defeat the geth during their hey-days. What makes them think they even got a chance, now of all times?"

"That's what Tali said as well. Only with enough profanity to make a batarian arms dealer cringe." She sighed. "Sometimes… it's just hard to believe how much she has changed from the girl we met during her Pilgrimage..."

Mhmm, says the timid xenoarchaeologist gone deadly info broker. "You know, Liara, those people in glass houses…"

The asari gave me an indignant glare. "That is certainly different."

I shrugged unable to hide my smile. "Sure. So, Far Rim it is?"

.~'*'~.

Ten minutes later and even the rest of my meager amusement spirited away, I stood before the comm unit behind the War Room, briefing Wrex on the situation, with the Normandy still at her hiding spot just inside the debris of Tuchanka's nuked moon.

"So the suit rats have finally lost all their brains along with their shit," The scarred Battlemaster growled, when I finished my sordid report. "As if there aren't enough problems already… Alright, Shepard, I'll see what I can –"

A muffled voice rose in the back.

"What now?" Holo-Wrex barked, then shot me an apologetic glance. He turned to someone just outside the camera field, their voices too ruptured for my translator to pick up through the static. A storm was raging above Camp Urdnot. And not just the meteorological kind as it seemed.

Some minutes later the krogan Clan chief's reptilian shape appeared back on the holo deck.

"Trouble?"

"Nakmor." Wrex disclosed with the sour expression of a tired old soldier staring at yet another avalanche of bullshit.

"Ah, the clan that has gone silent, right?"

"Yes and it turns out very much so. My scouts strolled right into their camp. No defenses, no guards, no warriors, no nothing."

I felt my face turn cold. "Reapers?"

He shook his massive head. "I don't think so. Not the slightest sign of battle."

"They could have been indoctrinated…" I trailed off, quickly suppressing the unhelpful feeling that threatened to crawl up from the recesses of my mind.

"Doubt it. As I said, there was no sign of combat and the Clan is too numerous for easy pickings. And the Squids already learned the hard way that we are notoriously difficult to keep in check."

Curious. "How so?"

He chuckled. "Seems like their method of control tends to trigger Blood Rage in those, let's say, less able-minded."

"I see. And what if Nakmor just evacuated?"

Krogan fleeing an enemy threatening their very home turf. Yup, sounds about right.

Wrex snorted. "Shepard, you've met krogans before, haven't you? No, the thing is, they're just bloody gone!"

"What do you mean by gone?"

"Gone! Like those funny magic tricks you humans entertain! Poof! Vanished in thin air! The food stocks were left unlocked and there's apparently enough in there to have fed the Clan for months. Same goes for most of their heavy gear, ammo and weapons."

"Huh? Run that by me again."

"I know! And who the hell evacuates without proper arms? According to Tosh they took personal belongings mostly. A bit of tech and equipment. But lots of ritual paraphernalia and mementos. Even that monstrous ancestral throne Morda loves to yell down from."

I slowly rubbed my temple. "This makes no sense…" First the quarians, now this. Didn't they see that there was war for all. Fucking. Life out there?!

"You tell me. This situation with Nakmor is a steaming pile of varrenshit." The krogan finally released his exasperation with a low roar that made the primeval ape in me cringe in fear. "Of all the Clans… and of all the other, half-assed, leaders," he spat. "Damn, I've counted on those shifty pyjaks!" His meaty fist hit something to his right with a loud bang. After another stream of rumbled curses, including Morda, some Drack and apparently each and every one by the name of Nakmor, he finally exhaled. "Sorry, Shepard. This means a change of plans. So..."

"So, no Aralakh Company outside the DMZ…"

He inclined his scarred head slightly. "For the time being. You know I'd rather tell you that a handful of warriors won't make a difference here, but I can't. Not those warriors. Between the troops I've sent off to Palaven and Nakmor gone, I'm already short on smarts as it is," he finished, for once looking almost as old as he was.

"Hey, I understand. It's okay, Wrex. Don't worry about it. We'll manage."

He nodded; slitted, glaring-red reptilian gaze looking me straight in the eyes. "I know you will. You always have. Good fighting out there, Battle Sister."

"You too, old friend."

The connection broke with a heavy sense of finality.

~V~

"Orla fruit, fresh and juicy Orla –"

"– the guaranteed best thessian–"

"– buy one, and get a free sample right–"

Picking up my pace, I pushed through a cacophony of noises, smells and bodies of all shapes. It was the first day of the Janiris festivities and Zakera market was packed. I glanced at a price board in passing. Packed, even though prices were bordering on the ridicule.

I shook my head. No ten minutes ago I had been surrounded by a paralyzing miasma of hopelessness and fear that had hung in the air like a heavy smoke; each face I'd passed telling a wordless story of loss and unimaginable horror. But that had been the Docks. Here, at the Wards, it was like stepping into another world indeed.

Hawkers, relentless in yelling their unbeatable offers. A myriad of smells; the exotic scent of a food stall manned by an old human woman, mixing with the heavy perfume of a batarian matron to my right and the stench of the fish market 50 paces ahead. An asari contortionist performed on a raised platform. Three-dozen kinds of music. Laughter. And wherever I looked people clinging to the tiniest piece of normality with the frantic desperation of the drowning. Because deep down they all knew: If the flood of refugees would keep up as it had so far, housing would soon become a problem. Then water. Then food. And the Reapers had yet to reach Thessia or Sur'Kesh in earnest.

Cheerful thoughts, really.

I sighed and kept weaving my way through the market until I spotted my target sitting in sturdy black pants and a mud green t-shirt at the patio of the "Tellurium", a nice mixed-species bistro that overlooked parts of the ward. Whenever my shift at C-Sec had brought me to this part of the wards with some time to spare, I had stopped to have lunch here. Sheriam, the turian waitress, took my order with a smile and a quick hug. Then my target finally saw me as well and lifted his arm in greeting.

I waved back and walked over to his table. I had tried to contact Thane, but to no avail. As expected the drell assassin was notoriously hard to catch. Massani on the other hand, not so much.

"Massani!" I set down my bags.

"Good to see you alive and kickin'," the former Merc rasped with a grin and grabbed my offered hand. A fresh looking tattoo blazed on his right upper arm. It looked suspiciously like something I had recently spotted on Jack.

A low growl emitted from his chair. I craned my neck and spotted a reddish varren laying under it. A studded collar wound around the beast's neck, a muzzle caging in its sharp teeth. Well, at least Jack's worries on that specific point had been moot.

"Zip it, stupid," the grizzled Merc growled back, nudging the varren's side with the tip of his combat boot. "That's a friend."

The varren studied me from its huge unblinking red-hued eyes for another moment, then dropped its head on its paws once more.

"Sorry 'bout Eezo," Zaeed added. "But, last time I left him alone for too long, the idiot ate the couch cushions."

"Don't worry. Gotta say, Massani, it's a domestic touch that definitely suits you."

The scarred man snorted. "Go to hell, Vakarian. You know, I was about to offer that you and your sassy ass can stay with me and Eezo, since room's getting scarce these days. But now…"

"Much appreciated," I injected quickly, shooting the merc a grin.

He rolled his eyes, just as Sheriam's colleague, a petite asari, arrived and put down the two beers I've ordered.

Massani nodded in thanks. Our bottles clinked.

"And what mischief is our favorite Commander causing these days?" he finally asked.

I brought him up to speed. Or at least, as much as our environment would allow.

"Huh," Zaeed begun, "so our old friend Timmy and his gang are once again up to no good. You sure?"

"We got a message from Thane. He suspects as much and I believe him." Plus there was also Valern and his strange request to met Shepard in person asap…

The merc's face turned thoughtful. "Thane's here?"

"So it seems. But, I have not managed to reach him, yet. And I also need to see Councilor Valern. Unfortunately he is not easily be contacted either. Shepard might be able to get him through some Specter backdoor channels, but those apparently require a special passphrase not even EDI knows." I exhaled some of my frustration. "Damn… I don't know why but it definitely feels like we're running out of time. Quickly."

"Can't just ask the Council for an appointment, eh? Citadel savior and all?"

"I'd rather not alert the wrong people to my presence. We're not exactly strangers to, hmm, Timmy." Plus, after that visit with Liara three years ago, my name very likely graced the Council's persona non grata list. "I might have an angle with Sparatus, but…" Provided he wasn't caught up in this mess as well. It seemed farfetched but I was not desperate enough to stake my life on it. Not yet.

"So, how 'bout C-Sec? Don't you have some friends there left?"

I shook my head. "Not sure if they can be trusted still. Lots of fresh faces. Lots of humans. No offense," I added quickly, and the merc snorted into his bottle. "So… Might be nothing. Might be anything. And Pallin… That one will stonewall me the moment I enter his office. Never forgave me that I left C-Sec and 'abandoned duty'."

Needless to say that Pallin and my father had gotten along just splendidly.

Massani put down his beer and looked me in the eyes, all serious suddenly. "Well, hate to bring it to you, mate, but Pallin's dead. It's been all over the news; two, maybe three weeks ago."

Oh. "That's… unexpected. Any specifics?"

"Nah, just the usual bollocks. Slipped in the shower, hit his head, tragical accident, blah-blah. Some Chellik bloke is running the show now."

"Wait, Chellick? As in Decian Chellick?" This made no sense. Chellick was decent detective in every way, but Executioner? It was like ordering the smooth-plated rookie to lead APEX Tac.

The merc sipped his beer once more and nodded. "That's the man. Oh and from what I heard, Bailey got a nice pat on the head by Udina as well. Think someone's cleaning house?"

I frowned at the label of my Parthian Ale. "Not sure. But that's definitely an awful lot of coincidences lately." No wonder the assassin had triggered. "Besides, that's exactly the place where I would start if I were planning… something," I finished, watching our asari waitress set down two bowls of snacks; white for levo, black for dextro.

Massani rubbed his artificial eye. "Damn it. First Omega and now this."

"Right, Jack mentioned something about Omega…"

"Yah. Tried to reach any of your old contacts recently? Well, good luck; the whole bloody station has gone silent. Nothing goes in, nothing goes out. And I could swear I've seen that bitch T'Loak striding along the Silversun strip some nights ago."

I mentally skipped through my latest communications. Now that he mentioned it… The only Omega contacts I had heard from had actually been off-station.

Shit. "You think…" I lowered my voice. "Reapers?"

He leaned forward, tapping the table. "Here's a thought. Given that special Relay, one would suspect they'd crawl all over Sahrabarik first chance they'd get, but there's not one blasted machine in sight. And the squids surely like news of death and mayhem to travel. Helps their case more than ours." His gaze turned intent. "No. I tell you, Vakarian, this is something else entirely."

I nodded. "Agreed. This stinks." And worse than a Dreadfish carcass three days dead in the sun, as Mom used to say. "But I can't see how to do anything about it. For now."

Massani harrumphed. "So it seems. Alright, 'Angel, what's next then?"

"We still need to get in touch with Thane, but..."

Suddenly the old merc leaned forward in his chair with a hideous grin. "Ah, don't you worry, your old pal Zaeed got you covered there."

"Oh? I'm listening."

"Well, remember that first time we hit the Citadel with the suicide squad?"

I inclined my head. I did. Too well, and for all the wrong reasons.

"See back then, me and Jack helped Thane with some special assignment. We tracked down his son. Kept the kid from doing some real stupid things like following his old man into the family business, if you catch my drift. Anyway, we met with this poor sod, who used to be one of Thane's informants. Still looked at Krios like he was a goddamn hero or somethin'. Spat up the name we needed for some nickels and a pat on the head. And apparently there's a whole bunch of kids like him, crawling through the airshafts and selling intel."

Grim, I nodded. If it were only just intel… "Duct Rats. C-Sec… they used to pull a corpse out of the vents every other month."

"Yah, that's 'em. If Thane's here and investigating as well, he'll certainly make use of them. That's our lead. We either learn something from them or they will tell him that some old friends are looking out for him. We win, one way or the other."

"Good thinking, this might actually work." I pushed back from the table. "Let's go then?"

The merc cleared his throat. "Yeah, actually…"

I sighed, dropping my hands. "Right."

"You left C-Sec, when, two years ago?"

"Almost three but yeah; I get it. The Duct Rats have long memories. I put in over 8 years with C-Sec… Chances are good that despite everything some of them will recognize me."

Zaeed shrugged. "Exactly why Krios ask me and Jack back then. Of all you Mary-Sue's we were the least likely to scream law and order. But don't you worry, I got this."

"Alright then. In the meantime… What is it you humans say? Divide and conquer? I might have an idea how to get a message to the Councilor without tripping any alarms…"

~V~

I hopped out of the shuttle, Rannoch's dry and dusty wind rustling my hair.

At the horizon, the orange sun hung low in a clear blue sky, casting the rocky landscape in long shadows already. I stood at the edge of a deep jagged canyon that wound its way towards the mountains, a calm river burbling along at its bottom. There was a… strange kind of peace in watching those lonely lands that hadn't seen a sentient organic in centuries. Could make you almost forgive the quarians their stupid war. Almost.

So far it had been an, uhh, interesting morning. The Admiralty Board was a lot more divided that I would have guessed, with Tali and Shala'Raan holding an unexpected amount of sway between them. So it was decided that Tali, EDI and I would board the geth Dreadnought emitting a Reaper signal, to gather intel and if possible shut the signal down for good. At the Dreadnaught's core, we actually found out how the Reapers managed to broadcast their malicious code to all the geth in the system: Legion.

We freed our synthetic friend – and then we ran. And not a moment too soon. Because quarians were still quarians, and Han'Gerrel the troublemaker vas Neema had nothing better on his mind than bombarding the now vulnerable Dreadnought at the first chance he got. We solely owned it to Shala'Raan to make it out in time.

Back at the Normandy it was again Legion who disclosed what he had learned during his forced "contact" with the Consensus: that there was still a small but powerful base operating as a central hub for most of the geth fighters.

Hence us paying a visit to Rannoch to shut the hub down, preferably before any geth noticed.

Behind me the shuttle's buzzing engines finally faded to a stop.

I shaded my eyes and squinted at the metallic reflection of a bridge some 600 meters ahead that seemed to vanish right into the cliffs. Maybe one hour of daylight left. We better double-timed it.

Behind me boots scraped over sand. I turned at a soft female gasp.

"Keelah…" Tali whispered with a choked voice, kneeling down and brushing over the barren soil with gloved fingers. "I never thought…"

"Creator Tali'Zora…" the geth's metallic voice started, conveying an unusual sense of urgency.

The quarian sighed and straightened. "You're right, Legion. Later. Our people are dying."

I squeezed my friend's slim shoulder. "We'll find some time after the fighter squadron is offline. Promise."

She nodded, then hurried towards the bridge, overtaking Legion who stomped along carrying a big equipment crate. I fell in behind the geth, EDI bringing up the rear. I focused ahead. Legion's description had been apt. The bridge curved to the left and led towards a round artificial opening in the cliff, almost like an airlock.

"Any updates from the Fleet?" I asked the Normandy's AI in her shiny mobile platform.

"Yes. Admiral Shala'Raan has successfully convinced the Board to pause the attacks on the geth fleet for the time being. A moment –" EDI paused. "Lieutenant Vega just reported in. He and Doctor T'Soni were able to extract Admiral Koris."

I let go of my breath. "Good. At least we have this going for us with the Board."

"Lieutenant Vega would also like to inform you that the Admiral did not leave his station voluntary. Dr. T'Soni had to subdue him via force field. He was not amused."

Oh great, there leapt my chances for the Admiral to support our side of the argument. Straight out of the airlock and into the vacuum of deep space. Figures.

In silence we caught up with Tali and Legion at the complex's entry; the geth already hacking the console nearby, the quarian studying the heavy doors, metal dulled by age and elements.

"Well, this plan of yours better work out, Legion."

"Consensus among our higher-order runtimes favors success five to one, Shepard-Commander," the geth replied. "You are an unknown. The geth in this hub are not prepared to encounter organic thought processes. You can disconnect the fighter squadron before they even realize that there is an attack."

"You said this is also a huge data storage," I added. "Like the servers on the Heretics' station?"

"Yes. And no," Legion replied. "This is more. It's –"

"Wait! This…" Tali suddenly pointed at some weathered glyphs next to the door frame, her voice an excited hitch. "This is quarian!"

"Yes, Creator Tali'Zora. It used to be one of Rannoch's prime Data Centers. Geth merely built upon the existing infrastructure."

"What happened to the data? Do you think…"

"I'm sorry, Creator Tali'Zora. All data Creators stored here was incorporated into Geth Consensus at the end of the Morning War."

"Why?"

"Because your history is our history." The geth turned towards the console. "Ambient air restored."

The doors opened with a hiss.

For several minutes we hurried in silence through the dim lit but pleasantly ordinary aisles.

I had already seen my fair share of geth structures including their inconceivable ships and after our run in with the Dreadnought earlier, the mundaneness of the tech was actually a relief. Or maybe it simply was the quarian side of it; the ancient basis blending in almost seamlessly with the newer tech.

"Shepard-Commander." The geth waved me over to a row of big, translucent pods. Several were inhabited by geth. "These are the stations where geth connect with the server."

"Will that even work on me?"

"No. When we enter Consensus we are code. An organic mind is unable to process data as we do; it needs a visual to attach itself to. You need, basically, a compiler that will translate the code into comprehensible visuals, using familiar patterns from your mind. However, with the parts we brought from the ship, we can modify one pod to allow for an organic-synthetic-interface. Which will be in fact an evolved version of the interface geth acquired through schematics belonging to Cerberus' Project Overlord. You may have heard of it."

I wrecked my brain, the name tickling some memory. Ah, yes. One of the many assignments on Miranda's list we could not follow through thanks to the Collectors stealing the Normandy's crew…

"EDI, do you have something about this Project Overlord in the databases you and Miranda grabbed before we cut the Illusive Man out for good?"

"I have," the AI suddenly paused. "You are not going to like it."

.~'*'~.

EDI was right.

I did not. Why is it that whenever I thought to have seen the full depths of Cerberus' moral abyss, they would just come up with yet another perversity?

In the meantime Legion finished his work, a mobile console hooked up through three dozen wires and diagnostic units. I eyed the modified pod unable to shake the queasy feeling. I was about to enter the Consensus. The freaking geth Consensus. I would have rather faced a pack of hungry Klixen in the dark unarmed.

"Shepard-Commander. It is time."

With a final sigh, I climbed into the open pod.

There goes nothing…

Legion halted before me, fastening the metallic band to my head and adjusting all the other little extras he had attached to the inside of the pod's electronics.

"Ah, you might initially experience dizziness, nausea and temporal loss of orientation. This is a normal organic reaction as we adjust the interface to your brain pattern, and create the visual reference for your mind to work with. We will be there guiding you. Shepard-Commander, are you ready?"

I gave a slight nod. "Do it."

The system powered up. My thoughts became… fuzzy. I felt… Not so well. Blood rushed in my ears and all of a sudden, an old alarm roared, but before I could react my world turned into a blinding white light.

~V~

"Garrus Vakarian?"

I opened my eyes to the dim-lit, yet meticulous arranged anteroom; low, relaxing music humming from some hidden speakers; the warm scent of wood and sweet spices permeating the air.

Embarrassed I threw the pink dressed asari a weak grin and rubbed my face. Damn… I actually had drifted off. Then again… I've been waiting in this chair for hours.

"You are very much in luck," The asari added with a mischievous and a disconcertingly knowing smile. "The Mistress will make an exception for you. Follow me, please."

I disentangled from the cushioned high chair and followed the acolyte deeper into what was considered a real sanctum by so many. A thick, deep violet carpet swallowed our steps until we reached a heavy wooden door, covered in a masterful carving of exotic flowers entwined with fabulous creatures. 'Past the wooden doors, paradise awaits' was a saying that actually had evolved here some centuries ago. My guide halted and I stepped through probably the most notorious doors on the Citadel.

The inside was not like I expected.

Sleek white furniture and a stylish theme of brushed metal and glass adorned the almost office-like room; tasteful pieces of art and decoration bringing in an occasional splash of color. A huge top-to-floor glass window opened up to the left, revealing a fantastic view over the Presidium's water garden. A silver-grey couch that would easily sit three krogan warriors in full gear faced the window. But what actually dominated the room was the stately asari wearing a long crimson dress; her black-rimmed, deep blue eyes assessing me with a strange mix of profound intensity and majestic grandeur. An unexpected sensation of reverence struck me. I couldn't help but lower my head. This was a queen and I was just an unworthy supplicant. And yet… I shook myself. Stop it, Vakarian. I had a job to do and no blasted time to waste.

"I… I need your help," I forced out, maybe a tad demanding.

The soft laugh of Sha'ira the Consort finally broke the dominating spell and I lifted my head. She approached me with a gliding step, the awe-inspiring intensity of her gaze replaced by a curious twinkle. "I welcome you, Garrus Vakarian. But I'm certain you understand that this is a major concession owned purely to my very own curiosity. And our shared friend."

"I do, Consort. I'm grateful for the gift of your precious time and will be brief – I need to get a message to Councilor Valern."

The asari frowned. "Sure there's more to it, isn't it? There are easier and, to be frank, less expensive ways to get to him."

"Yes, I know." I said, carefully framing my words. "But I have strong reason to believe that a resourceful and extremely dangerous faction is moving against the Citadel in force, and whatever it is they plot, in face of the Reapers out there, it could turn into a devastating blow at a moment's notice. Valern apparently knows something about it, but I have no way to reach him discretely, since this faction certainly has already infiltrated strategic key points and probably most communication. That's why I need you. You are simply the only person on the Citadel I can think of who is influential enough to help and who, I'm absolutely certain, is not involved."

"I see. And this ominous faction would be…?"

I hesitated. How much was safe to let on? How far could I –

"Commander," Sha'ira gently added. "You certainly understand that a little trust goes a very long way. Especially here."

I exhaled. "Cerberus. They are an all-human paramilitary terrorist group-"

"I know," The Consort pursed her blue lips for a moment. "I have clients… Well, consider yourself lucky. Unlike most of my sisters, I am aware of their potential for menace, and I won't discount them just because they are human and new to our world." She turned, her gaze resting on the large window. "The Citadel… She has been my home for all my life. She is a haven, a sanctuary for so many, and if what you say is true, for which I have no reason to doubt… You are right, I won't have my home come to harm. And especially not through some xenophobic terrorists." She faced me once more. "Consider it done." Another pleasant smile. "Now, about my compensation…"

… And that was probably the greatest misconception about the Consort. No matter how benign Sha'ira's smile, how sincere and genuine her compassion, in the end she always got paid. Always.

I grimaced, thinking about my abysmal solvency. "Uh sure. Yeah. So my funds…"

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not interested in your credits, Commander Vakarian." Her eyes took on a very distinct glint. "You actually possess something much more valuable…"

Maybe, maybe, this was not such a great plan after all. It was an open secret that the Consort was just as likely to take in favors and intel than credits, and my head was stuffed with information lots of people would kill for.

I cleared my throat. "I… Okay, what would you like to know?"

"I don't want to know. I want to see. Are you willing to let me see what kind of person you really are, Garrus Vakarian?"

Huh? Why would she… But then something else caught my attention. To see. There was an ocean of meaning sunken into those tiny words. I had a bad feeling about this. Too bad my options here were pretty much finite.

Finally I inclined my head in consent. "I do."

She pressed two fingers, first against her lips, then against mine. "It is agreed then." She gestured towards the couch. "Please, sit. If it eases your mind, whatever transpires between me and my clients, will never leave these rooms. This is my promise."

I sat down slowly. The asari lowered herself beside me, cupping the sides of my face with cool palms. I stared into her unfathomable, deep blue eyes. A gentle brush, then a slight pressure arose against my temples. My head became light. Her eyes flashed black. An utterly trapping and terrifying black. I exhaled and allowed the soft dizziness to spiral me towards the dark and take me in.

And yet… I had to admit the gossip was not exaggerated: the Consort was a true master; graced with a gift, not one in a million possessed. So much like the touch of the priestess of Athame, and yet so different. Sensual where the priestess was careful. Fulfilling and giving where the priestess demanded. I paused on the very edge and watched how the hypnotic dark in her eyes lost the last of its terrifying tint and wrapped around me like a warm, benign bubble filled up with a deep sense of protection. With understanding. And hope.

"Show me…" The Consort gently whispered, yet underneath, tiny and quickly suppressed, I suddenly sensed something else. An… urgency she could not quite hide. If not for Samara and her disclosures I probably wouldn't even have noticed, but Sha'ira… She really needed this. This kind of contact. And the deeply intimate connection it brought. The Consort craved for sensations. For emotion.

Just like an Ardat-Yakshi craved for life.

A gift like no other indeed. The truth was probably as mundane as a razor thin edge in her DNA that kept her from turning into a compulsive, life-absorbing, serial killer. All the perks. None of the penalties.

The hands on my face twitched.

Ardat-Yakshi.

Yeah, if that wasn't a pleasant thought.

The asari slow-blinked and the connection hitched.

"Please. Do not used that… term with me…" the Consort replied softly. "You know I'm not. You're still alive after all…"

Smooth. Real smooth, Vakarian.

Embarrassed I mumbled an apology.

It was accepted with a benign smile and a gentle nudge against the guards of my mind. Show me.

Right. I closed my eyes and finally let her in.

A tumble of images flashed through my mind; the essence of their respective emotions laid bare before the hungry watcher. Even if she wasn't able to exactly read my thoughts, now that I'd let her in willingly, she would see and especially sense what ever I offered. And her soft, so soft words of encouragement just kept drawing out the memories. Preserved moments slowly swirling around the presence of the asari, calmly watched without comment or judgement. Thoughts jumping back and forth in time, gently triggered by tiny hints of sensations she offered. My mother. Omega. Blackwatch. My father. Invictus. Solana. C-Sec. Reaper Taskforce. The invasion. My childhood. Selene. A sniper's calm. Saren. Sidonis. Mierin. All my failings. All my triumphs.

It wasn't enough. And unfortunately I just ran out of good old role-model-turian-thoughts to hide behind.

"Show me." Her voice was no more than a breathless hush. "The real you…"

I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to uphold the contact. I had held back this one crucial chapter and she knew it. The Normandy. A kinship like no other, forged through dozens of battles and skirmishes fought side by side.

"… your fears…"

The Thorian. A gravely wounded Commander bleeding out in my arms. The mindless terror of loosing her to some overly-lucky slavers on Omega. Ilos. The Collectors. Alchera. Reapers. My team. Dying in a puddle of my own blood. A green-eyed ghost to the rescue.

"… your deepest desires…"

I struggled, but relentless those other memories rushed up, coaxed to the surface by the Consort's masterful touch. Feelings, that catapulted me back in time, right back into those very moments. Cool, strangely smooth skin underneath my calloused hands. The unique scent of red blood mixing with mine. The taste of alien sweat on my tongue. A dim alley. A kiss. The thrilling rush, a longing to touch, to fight, to fuck…

And a soft human voice, moaning my name in the dark.

I groaned, unable to hold back the arousal flooding my systems. And with it the crazy sense of connection against all odds and reason. The strength I drew from our bond. The fiery need to protect her. The overwhelming sense of peace I found in her arms. The warmth her smile would bring to my soul. The lo–

And on the outside, the Consort's laugh was like a clear chime, cutting through the haze.

"Oh my, of all the rumors, I'd never…" then she sighed, a sound of purest delight. "Commander Vakarian, I have to say, I'm absolutely enjoying our collaboration."

~V~

"- and fifth, the drive core output," continues the baritone drone of the Normandy's Navigator. "I have no idea how Miss Zora did it but – Commander! Are you even listening?"

Huh? What… Hands still pressed against my eyes, I rub at the lingering headache. "Of course, I have. Aliens gone. Efficiency bad. See?"

Waitwaitwait, this is wrong. I've just been… somewhere else, haven't I?

"With all due respect, Commander, but you need to take these reports more seriously."

"Sorry, Pressly," I mumble against the heels of my hands instead. Uhg, why can't the stupid room just stop spinning? "I'm… not feeling very well."

"Understood. We can resume later. If you will excuse me?"

Nice job, Shepard, now he thinks you're rude AND incompetent. "Sure. Dismissed."

Dizzy I slowly drop my hands. Then my gaze. Stare transfixed at the faded old scar at the back of my left hand; just one of the many many wounds I got with the Reds. I follow its pale trace with shaking fingers.

No. That one's gone. Like all the others…

Footsteps approach. A chair scrapes. Then another, softer male voice speaks up with a chuckle. "Well, to borrow one of Ash's: Why is it that whenever someone says 'with all due respect' they really mean 'kiss my ass'?"

I jerk up my head, looking straight into hazel brown eyes. And just freeze, shellshocked.

Kaidan.

But… but he died!

Didn't he?

What the hell is going on? Fighting the vertigo I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. Fragments of visions? memories? jumble around my head in an incoherent flood. Geth server. Rannoch? The images blur out, just like a… dream? Wait. Does this mean I just had a very disturbing and vivid dream? The invasion, the Omega-4 mission, Reapers, Cerberus… My mind is racing, unable to keep up with the shifting kaleidoscope. Attack. Fire. A world of ice. Falling. Dying?

Yes. I died.

I fucking died.

No. Impossible. I am alive. At least until –

A terrible thought hits me like a bucket of ice. I shoot up from my chair. "Kaidan, we're still close to Alchera, right?"

"Uhm, yeah?"

Shit. The Collectors!

Kaidan squints at me. "Commander, are you alright?"

"Lieutenant Moreau! Get E- I mean, check the sensors on ranges! Do you get the signature of a big unknown vessel? Like a freaking gigantic vessel?"

"Negative Commander," the Pilot replies. "Why?"

"Shepard, what is going on?!"

I hold out a hand at the Lieutenant and stare at the camera. "Did you check the visuals?"

"Well, it's not like anyone–"

"Did. You. Check the visuals?!"

Joker sighs. "Okay, okay, checking the visuals… There, nothing to be seen. Sheesh, Commander, care to let anyone in on your thoughts?"

I finally exhale. No Collectors… And I'm still alive. Yet.

"Thanks Joker. I…" Think think. "I overheard some things in port and… it's been a long day and I just got this weird hunch. Sorry for the hassle. Don't mind."

"Naa, you know me, I never do. Moreau out."

I blink slowly and shake my head at a questioning Kaidan. Later. My omnitool bleeps in a new message. I bring it up instead.

Garrus. Does that mean…

Subject: Re: Heads-up
Sent by Garrus Vakarian 17/08/2183, 10:12 AM

Shepard,

I will do my best to hold on. Although on some days it feels like fighting a Colossus with a flash bang. You get the satisfaction to strike home, but in the long run you make zero impression. You're right, Tayseri Ward is still burning, and the C already tries to downplay the incidents… Incredible.

Commander, it would be my honor to redeem the debt during your next stay. I've already spotted the perfect place - I've heard they even serve coffee imported from earth –

I lower my arm. My laugh is more than just a tad hysterical.

Oh, this is a bad day. With a friggin' capital B.

"Ivy?" I look down finding one concerned Kaidan leaning over the table and grab my hand. It is warm and soft. Just like I remember…

How can this not be real…

"I'm fine." You know, like Fucked In Extreme.

His expression hardens. That's the problem when people know you too well. They simply refuse to buy your BS. "Doc. Now."

.~'*'~.

30 minutes later I leave the Med Bay and hurry across the Mess Hall like on autopilot.

I'd lied to the Doc through my teeth. Or so I think. Damn, I'm still so dizzy which makes it kinda hard to sort through my thoughts and memories. I focus on the little orange plastic box in my hand. Chakwas diagnosed me with a mild PTSD and gave me something to help my sleep. She also ordered me into at least six sessions of guided meditation with her, but that's okay, I probably can weasel around that one.

Get some rest, Shepard.

I guess that much of the Doctor's advice I can follow… I stop before the stairs leading up to the CIC. Stop and turn around and enter Lawsons – no, Liara's – no, my cabin. Tali's boxes and crates are gone. The dim cabin feels small and empty. Just like me. Oh goodie. I shake out a few of Chakwas' pills and crawl under the blanket of the sad little cot inside and stare at the ceiling. Inhale. Exhale. Oh, and try desperately to catch. The. Fuck. up with the unravelling reality.

I look at my hands. Make a fist. Unclench. Pinch the back of my hand. Pain. Real. I run my fingers over the fabric of the thin military grade blanket. Real. Everything around me feels perfectly real. And at the same time, I have my head stuffed with memories of three goddamn years; of conversations, faces, fights, fears, a hundred thousand details etched into my mind with crystalline clarity… Memories that could not be real because they state without a fucking doubt, I should be very dead by now.

But I'm not dead. Am I?

Fuck me, I'm loosing my goddamn mind!

And Garrus…

This will hurt…

I press the corner of my blanket against my eyes. Hot tears leak out and just would not stop.

.~'*'~.

I wake up the next morning; depressed and weary as hell. Again I check, and again everything just seems so… ordinarily normal.

I sigh and bring up my omnitool. It still has Garrus' message open. I read it again, determined to phrase a good reply. Try to sound just like the Commander the turian would expect. Friendly, interested. Not desperate. I type. Then delete. Not to overstep the boundaries that are still firm. Mentee, mentor. Not disillusioned vigilante and unhinged maniac.

Type. Delete.

I stare at the blinking cursor fighting to keep the increasing misery at bay. How? How in hell do I even begin to fix this? Worse, the longer I think about it the less sure I am whether all these memories are even real. What if this had just been a weird dream? A hallucination? A parting gift from the Beacon? And isn't also the sad truth that in that case, I have no rights to such feelings towards the turian at all?

Yeah, all so pretty freaking logical. Too bad me and logic don't go along too well and this other part of me is still hell-bend on steering our relation onto this other track.

Boy, is this a mess.

"Mission briefing in thirty, planetfall in sixty," Pressly suddenly drones over the Comm. I jump at the distraction with both feet.

Still. Before I crawl out of my bunk, I give the sorry-ass excuse of a friendly message another glance. It has to do. I hit the send button.

.~'*'~.

Swallowing the last bit of my hurried breakfast, I leave the lift and head for the armory in the hangar, unable to fully dispel the unease that's been lurking in the back of my mind since waking. Something is off, and I just can't put my finger on it.

Maybe it's just Alchera.

Or maybe, maybe it's just because I'm trapped on this crazy ride racing straight towards a conniption fit.

As I grab for my combat gear, excitement and the buzz of adrenaline floods my systems with a much needed familiarity. This. I close the last clasp of my armor and exhale. Finally something as it should be.

I stash three of my little high-priced throwing knives, thigh, boot and forearm, then reach into the locker for my black gun. My Stiletto… My hand starts shaking. Badly. Memories flare. Do you always kiss… No. It's just… too much. I finally slam the doors shut. Not gonna happen. It earns me a questioning eyebrow from Kaidan.

I shrug and crack a weak smile. "Let's try something different this time."

Oh yeah, this is going exceptionally well.

Leaving a puzzled Kaidan, I steer towards the weapon's locker. And I still can't shake this weird feeling. I focus and run through a few body checks. Then I freeze. In front of the neat rows of propped up guns, and shielded by my body, I hold out my hand; feel for the familiar tingle building up. A tiny bluish light crackles into existence and… nothing. I clench my fist. Screw me. Of course, no real biotics. Which means no Cerberus implants either. No enhanced reflexes. No regen like a krogan on steroids. And can someone pretty please explain me, how exactly I've become so friggin' used to a body, I can not even be sure is real?

Full stop. That's sooo no helping my case. Bottom line: fighting the old way it is. I snatch that custom Katana shotgun Wrex had left and modified for packing the extra punch. On an afterthought I also pocket one of the Harpys we've raided from the last Cerberus compound. Because I like the irony. So sue me.

Geared up, me and my futile musings climb into the Make after Kaidan and Private Fredricks. I drop into the co-pilot's seat, waiting for the gravity shift that would announce the Normandy's decent to the surface. And yet another unease is creeping in on me. I can hardly follow Kaidan sketching out the LZ and the terrain from the driver's seat. My breath is way too loud inside my helmet.

Then the Mako is deployed; just like it had dozens and dozens of times before. It simply provides the smaller target compared to the Normandy. Breath in. Breath out.

We drop.

My stomach lifts. Acid bites my throat.

Vertigo.

Fire. Falling. Space. Ice. Darkness.

Death.

I claw into the seat and struggle with a veritable panic attack until the Mako's thrusters slow our decent. I stare out the front window as the icy hell of Alchera's scarred surface is rapidly closing in; an endless sea of jagged glaciers and deep gorges stretching as far as the horizon under an ever dim sky.

What a lousy place to die.

.~'*'~.

Clearing the outpost is easy. For one it is hardly more than an oversized satellite dish hooked up to some power cells guarded by one lone Colossus. For the other, the modified Katana is an excellent weapon for the desperate. I totally deserve the dark scowl Kaidan now gives me after charging the Colossus like a bat-shit lunatic. Again I shrug and shot him a lopsided smile. Which he can't see because of the helmet but that's not the point. The point is that Garrus would have…

No. I stop that unhealthy train of thoughts. Forcefully.

Back on the Normandy, I more or less run out of the hangar and towards the CIC. Maybe that is the trick. Maybe I just have to keep on moving until things become normal again. Shouldn't be too hard. I am vanguard after all.

Debrief is quick. Hackett is pleased and hands out just one other assignment to squeeze in before our supply run. The prospect of another distraction makes me almost cheer in relief.

So Pressly plots the fastest course to inspect the Alliance freighter gone silent. Which turns out to have fallen victim to some pirates. Simple. Black and white. On the way, I receive a reply from the turian sniper. It is truly embarrassing how giddy it makes me feel. By the time we reach Omega I feel like a hamster on crack. So I buy a bit of bandwidth on the buoy for short a vid call.

Hence me standing now before the terminal, raking through my hair. Uhg. This is a bad idea. The screen flicks on, and the turian looks up, his hand lifted in greeting.

My breath hitches. He looks so… young. So full of ideals. Undamaged. Innocent. Free.

"Ah, hello Commander."

I blink for a long long moment. That voice… Dammit! My blood hums at the turian's low yet smooth timbre. Just like I remember…

"I admit, I did not expect a video call. Is everything okay?"

I nod, catching my bearings. Then splutter through my prepared sentences. How's work, family, the team? Garrus is as polite as ever. A bit of gossip. I finally find my footing. The awkward, yet oddly funny jokes. A few good-natured teases. So close, so real… I almost slip twice.

Almost refer to things he can have never known.

Almost tell him how much I miss falling asleep in his arms.

And yet, despite all the similarities and all the friendly laughs something... something is just not quite right. Again!

Too soon the bandwidth alert is beeping. We say our goodbyes, promising to meet again soon.

The connection closes. I stare at the screen reflecting, trying to pinpoint what exactly had triggered me. The rhythm. Yes. It is the rhythm that is wrong. As if he is just lagging behind one beat, one step.

Or maybe I am just one step ahead…

Out of sync.

Yes. Now that I really think about it, it is like this with each and everyone around me. Kaidan, the Doc, Joker, in fact the Normandy's whole human crew, they all seem slightly off. The SR-1 used to be my ship. My home. But instead of finding myself falling into the familiar routines, I feel more and more like a foreign body. Again.

And the others? So far there has been no reply from Wrex. Tali is on a secret mission for the Flotilla. Liara is chasing down a prothean relict to some remote world at the ass end of the Attican Traverse.

And Ashley… Ash is still dead.

Funny how of all things this is one of the few actual constants in my messed up mind.

No matter. I just have to keep on moving. Vanguard. Ever look forward. Never look back.

Luckily, somehow Hackett always comes up with another remote outpost to infiltrate, clear out or bomb to kingdom come. And yet, always too soon I'm back at the ship again; the blissful thrill of the mission replaced by the creeping sensation of slowly loosing my grip. I shift my feet and stare at the CIC's galaxy map.

Debrief. Hackett out.

Down time.

Misery.

Hackett in.

Deploy.

Kill.

Repeat.

It goes on for weeks. Weeks in which I tumble through this strange world, lost in a haze of conflicting memories and fits of prayers to whatever gods are willing to listen. Weeks in which I desperately hope for a wake up call, for a miracle; anything; even for some entity to show up and shift things back on the right course.

But in tragic irony, the Collectors never came.

And so didn't the Reapers.

Which raises the nagging question; are there no Collectors at all? No Reapers? Had the Sovereign really been the last relict of its kind?

And… doesn't that ultimately mean we sort of won?

No invasion, no worlds ablaze. What if I had somehow managed to look behind the curtains and into a different reality? A gift, received to appreciate the relative peace we had?

The likes of us are not meant for a peaceful life…

And in that moment I realize something else: I'm actually missing those fucking Reapers.

I laugh and laugh and there is absolutely nothing resembling mirth or sanity in it.

.~'*'~.

About twelve weeks after we left Alchera, Hackett deems we have cleared out enough outposts for the time being. It's a good enough reason to make some excuses and opt for a supply stop on Illium. Food, special gear, the usual. And admittedly there is also this other reason; the tiny voice that would not stop whispering that I just had to repeat the same steps to hustle this reality down a different path…

In the end I should have known better, but once again… I'm grasping for straws, desperately trying to stay afloat. But of course Liara never came to Nos Astra. No dead Shepard, no corpse to squabble about. No need to turn info broker.

From that perspective, it is really a fucking sadistic joke how much apparently depends on me being dead.

But thank God, my stubborn ass is notoriously hard to derail. Besides I'm fairly certain that even if I died right on the spot, it would not bring back this other reality. That time window is long gone.

So instead I sit in one of Eternity's off-white lounge chairs enjoying my third round of Thessian Rum, making the big decisions. This time of the day the club is next to empty. I lift my glass at the matronly Asari barkeeper, who bestows me with the same nonchalance she has for all her customers. I have not bothered to ask if her name is actually Aethyta.

Maybe not the same, but the right steps. Just… tackle things from a slightly different angle. Find my footing. Make new memories. Finally get the hell out of this spiral of misery. And thanks to the message I just received from Anderson I already know where to begin.

By the time I'm back on the Normandy and set up the long distance call, I almost feel like my old self again.

"Shepard!" The turian's surprised face appears on the screen. "Calling to take me up on that coffee offer?"

I can't help the smile creeping in. "Yeah. Something like that." My heart skips a beat. Better get this over fast. "Hey, Garrus, listen, I just wanted to call and… well, we're about to head back to the Citadel and I… uh… I figured something out with Anderson. Think I got an idea how to get you back on the Normandy. I mean, if you still want to, that is..." I trailed off.

The silence is deafening.

Then, "Oh well. I… to be honest I didn't expect that. I'm honored. Really. More than you can probably imagine, but I… I can't." He drops his gaze. A soft sigh. "I'm sorry." Then he lifts his head and rubs his neck. "Look, there is something I need to tell you…"

I exhale slowly, my chest tightening. "Don't say you have to go to Omega!"

"Omega? Why, no, not at all. Shepard," Suddenly his tone shifts, his face breaking into a very unexpected grin. "Shepard, I'm going to be a father!"

WHAT?! It takes me two very long seconds until his words fully penetrate. Then they hit me like a fright train. A very very heavy and fast freight train. "How… How in hell did that happen?"

Bile rises in my throat. This is a nightmare. A motherfucking nightmare…

"Uhm, well you know..."

I palm my face. Seriously? SERIOUSLY?

He clears his throat. "Ah, right. Not what you meant."

My voice is small and stifled. "I cannot believe this..." Help. Me. I am not getting enough air.

"Yeah, I know! Selene is just as surprised as I am and–"

The rest of the conversation buzzes out in white noise. I probably utter the correct polite phrases. I really can't remember. And frankly; I really don't give a damn.

I close the call, releasing the white-knuckled grip I have on the edge of my desk.

I gasp for air. The pain is... immense and unlike anything. An unholy mix of betrayal, rejection and hurt. It drowns me in a sea of acid, corroding away whatever protective armor this weird imagination of his love; and worse, the hope, that one day it could be again, had given me. And when there is nothing left, it drags me down into the abyss.

This hurts you.

It does. So fucking much. So much, I didn't even know one was capable of enduring so much inner pain. I wait for the rage, for Ivy to break out in violence but there is just her silence in midst this tsunami of hurt. Vision blurred, I stumble away from the desk. Bite my lips so I won't start screaming. I taste blood. Tears. An eternity passes and me caught in this limbo. And as I slowly fumble my way back into the familiar routines, the old void is there to greet me. I float inside the blissful emptiness and only there the hurt finally recedes. Until there is nothing. Fucking nothing at all.

So I finally do die. Just not on the outside.

And yet despite my best efforts a tiny spark remains. A tiny spark that just refuses to be purged… A nudge. Go on. Endure.

Vanguard.

I cancel the Citadel.

I let Adams announce a nice shore leave on Nos Astra instead, all drinks on me. I fuck Kaidan that night and it is the most pathetic thing ever.

The next day and still hungover as hell, I plead Hackett for another mission into Geth space. He complies, obviously sensing my utter and desperate misery. And then we are off.

And I, I just keep falling.

Shift in and out between utter numbness and the frantic need to escape from this terrible world. In the small hours of the night I find myself wandering the ship, talking to people I probably never met, people that probably don't even exist in this universe. I don't care; just let these memories drift in and out unfiltered. Fractured thoughts and images overlapping what passes off as reality. I stare for hours at the place where in my mind the SR-2 housed the Main Battery.

Never have I felt this alone. This hopelessly insane.

No one seems to notice. No-fucking-one. But then, I have always kept my thoughts to myself. Have kept such a tight lock on my emotions, not even Kaidan would get really through. It all had changed with Alchera, with the Collectors, but without?

And yet… no matter how much I miss my Crew, my friends; now matter how much the absence of the turian's love pains me; deep inside this dark nightmare, I most of all miss EDI. The reassuring stability and comfort her constant presence had provided. The fact that she had always looked out for our wellbeing, mine or the Crew's, no matter what.

I'm always here, Shepard.

"Oh EDI," I whisper, hugging myself in the dark of the nightly mess hall. "If that only were true…"

Would Cerberus and the Illusive Man even care to develop her? In a world that had no Reapers to counter?

I probably will never know.

The next morning or another, I run a mission on who-knows where. Some mercs. In a bunker. Or pirates. Or terrorists. Whatever. It all has become a mindless, irrelevant blur.

Until a bullet grazes my arm, the physical pain piercing through the numbness. I blink, finding myself with a few moments of clarity. Left flank. Open wide. Careless. Kaidan is screaming at me. I mumble an apology. Some vanguard I am indeed.

You need someone to guard your six-

I smother the sentence before it can drag out any more memories. Fall back into the silence and let the blissful dark swallow my mind once more.

Go on. Endure.

But why? I have no place in this utterly fucked-up universe.

So I'm unravelling. And still I feel that there is some part of me watching, wanting desperately to push against the inevitable.

Go on.

Endure.

Another planetfall.

Kaidan finally stopped talking to me.

That is okay. Wordless I kill my way through an ancient quarian city where the sun keeps killing my shields.

The geth are everywhere and my mind wants to trick me again into believing I've seen this place before. This time I ignore it. Instead I focus on that last bullet. Fantasize about it. A few inches higher. A few inches left. Maybe, next time I am just a little bit too slow. Just a tiny little bit…

I run around a corner, blind. Bounce back. Drop on my ass. Fantastic.

I slowly lift my head and stare into the barrel of a geth rifle. Attached to a Prime.

Go on, Shep…

Oh, fuck me and go to hell!

Pathetic. A small voice whispers in my mind. And so you will die.

Yeah yeah. Let's get over with it, already.

You will die. Again.

Woa - wait, what?

You have failed –

A hot burst of adrenaline explodes in my veins as the tiny whisper rises up to a baleful drone

– little Organic.

No... Nonono...

Yes. And so your interference has finally come to an end, Shepard.

I howl and the world fractures.

.~'*'~.

I came back with a scream.

Or tried to. Because all I managed was a weak groan. Immediately a dozen sensations assaulted my consciousness. My head throbbed like a mf. My mouth was parched. Boy, was I thirsty. My muscles were like soft gum. Even my lids seemed too heavy to lift. Hello déjà vu. Eventually I made out a slim silvery form.

"EDI?" I croaked, struggling against gravity to stretch out my hands. Heaven help me, I was weaker than a three day old kitty. And thirsty. So fucking thirsty.

"I'm here." Cool polymere-covered fingers wrapped around my outstretched hand. Then squeezed gently.

"You are real..." I whispered through a flood of relief.

The AI nodded. "Of course I am."

"What… No, wait. Water. Please."

EDI fished for a canteen and sweet, oh so sweet, water touched my lips and ran down my parched throat. I coughed, fighting nausea.

Another long moment passed. Minutes ticked by and strength returned oh-so slowly. My vision was still somewhat blurred, but I could finally process my environment. This was still the Geth server, and I was still inside the interface pod. Albeit in a less orderly shape than I'd entered. Much less. And what's that awful stench? Uhg… Me.

Someone shifted behind EDI in the dim light. I blinked and spotted a geth. My gaze darted to the banged up patch of old N7 armor. My N7 armor. An armor, that could have only belonged to a corpse...

I started crying in earnest.

"Shepard, are you alright?"

"Yes, EDI," I managed between two terrible sobs. "Yes, I am now." I took a deep breath. I was back. I just knew it. Back where I belonged. "Okay. Let's –" I tried to step towards the AI. The room spun. My knees faltered. Something tugged unpleasantly at my left arm. Aww great.

The AI caught me and sat me to the ground, my back against the pod. "Please, do not move, Shepard. You need medical attention."

I nodded weakly, swallowing hard at the emergency infusion bag connected to the crook of my exposed arm. "Shit… Legion, explain. What the hell just happened?"

The geth approached and dropped down before me. "Shepard-Commander we are so very sorry. We did not realize that the corruption left by the Reapers inside the Consensus was used to mask an entire Reaper entity. It must have been in there for weeks. It hijacked our connection to you. We…" The geth looked away in an eerily organic way. "We were unable repel the attack."

"A trap?"

"We can not say. Though it seems unlikely that any of the Old Machines could have anticipated us coming here."

"Just our luck then."

"We assume."

Yeah, Murphy just fucking hated me. I rubbed my face. Tried not to think too hard on how deep the Reaper had been in my head exactly. No, not any Reaper. Harbinger. Boy, I was sooo fucked.

"In anyway, it hacked immediately into your sensory implants."

"Okay. At least explains why everything felt so real…"

"Shepard," EDI begun. "What happened?"

"I… I saw or better lived through an alternate reality, I guess? Something built from my memories, but twisted by my fears."

"We are sorry. We should have taken such possibility into account."

"You said so yourself. How could you? It's okay, Legion. Don't beat yourself up. The fighters?" I asked carefully, dreading the reply. I was not going back in. I was not…

"Status unchanged. The Reaper isolated your presence before you could enter the Consensus in full. The Flotilla has managed to keep them at bay but at the cost of one of their frigates."

Double damn. This mission surely went all tits up. I dropped my head against the pod. I felt… actually worse than after waking in that Cerberus lab. How's that even possible? "So… how long was I out? It seemed like months for me."

"Four days." EDI offered.

Damn. Certainly explains the stench. Then again, not as bad as four months, I guess. Small gifts and all.

"Couldn't you, I don't know, just pull the plug and get me out?"

"Negative," Legion replied. "Your mind might not have survived intact. Extent of Reaper influence unknown. We did not dare to sever the connection."

"Then what made it stop? I'm fairly certain it wasn't me."

"Hah, we did!" Added a new accented female voice. "Aaand, we actually killed a Reaper!" A violet mirrored visor dropped into my view forcing the geth aside and slim arms wrapped me in a bear hug. "Keelah," Tali sighed. "You are back."

"Woah, what's that about killing a Reaper?" I mumbled against her embrace.

She rocked back and sat down across from me, her voice pitched in excitement. "Oh yes. EDI, me and a team of the most reckless boshtets Kal'Reegar could find. You should have seen it," Her hands gestured wildly. "Just us and a targeting laser to command a bloody orbital strike! It was glorious!"

I gave her a weak smile. "Gee, seems like you guys had all the fun."

"Yeah. Just too bad the other Reaper managed to escape."

"Harbinger," I simply stated.

EDI gave me a slight nod. "The energy signature might suggest as much. I filed it away for further reference. You woke shortly after the Reaper fled from orbit. Apparently it could not uphold its connection to the Geth Consensus and evade the Flotilla's heavy missiles."

"Okay people." I struggled to get my feet under me. "Let's move out and -"

"Shepard." EDI suddenly spoke up in my ear on a private channel. With a sigh I stopped my attempts to get up. "Please, you need to slow down. Your vital data has been extremely worrisome. Your heartrate had dropped below the critical threshold and without the trauma modul repairing the tissue damage multiple organs failure would have been imminent."

I found the AI's eyes and nodded. Shit. Even worse than I thought.

"- I think I need a few more moments. Tali, can you organize our extraction back to the ship? And uh… one of the Doc's wheelchairs maybe?"

The quarian jumped to her feet. "Sure, I'm on it. Will you mange?"

"Don't worry, I got EDI to help."

"On that note, I also confess to have used Officer Lawson's personal Lazarus cipher to gain access to some of your implants. I have disabled unnecessary functions, if possible, and adjusted the trauma module's parameters since your limbic system was overwhelming the controls with false positives. I apologize for violating your privacy, but it was necessary."

"I know, EDI." I said softly just for the two of us. "Harbinger tried very hard to make me kill myself. Just force my body to the edge, then watch my mind give up..." I shivered at the memory. "But I think I sensed you in there somehow. Your intent. Without that…" I looked up finding an unreadable expression on the AI's polymer face. "You saved my life. Thank you."

I took a steeling breath. But first, one more thing…

"Okay, Legion. Let's take those goddamn fighters down."

~V~

I woke to the smell of varren and last night's dinner.

Slowly I stretched out my limbs and cracked one eye open. The apartment was dim and silent, the building's annoying neon ads kept out by heavy shutters. Nothing that could have alerted me. I rolled my shoulder, tugged up my blanked and… There. Another soft noise. No. A whine? I lifted my head. Light spilled into the living room through a small crack in the old-fashioned manual door; Eezo sitting before.

I got up slowly and padded over. The varren let out another whine. I carefully pulled the door open and the varren brushed by me. I stepped into the kitchen. Massani sat on the table, face buried in his hands. Eezo dropped his head on the merc's thigh.

"You're alright?"

Massani didn't reply. Instead he pushed a datapad in my direction. Eezo whined again. With a sigh the grizzled human dropped a hand on the varren's head.

I tapped my visor awake, allowing the translator to decipher the human letters.

Dear Mr. Massani,

With deepest regrets I have to inform you that there has been a tragic incident this morning.

The auxiliary station on Menae where Jack and her students have been commissioned to had been attacked by a force of Reaper ground troops of an unknown kind. We don't know yet how they managed to bypass the defense lines but one of the surviving soldiers gave to protocol they came from underground –

Shit. Rachni. After Utukku I had alerted Hierarchy Command and the Alliance on their existence but apparently… Never enough. Damn it!

My gaze dropped back to the data pad.

According to her students Jack ordered them to fall back to the closest outpost, Teatrus, holding off the hostiles as long as possible. She saved at least thirty-seven lives.

By the time reinforcement arrived the station had already been overrun. There was no sign of Jack. Eventually the recon team had to retreat as well, aborting the search. It left us no choice but to declare her KIA.

I understand that you might feel differently, especially since we weren't able to retrieve a body, but given the circumstances and what we know about our enemy… Feeding your hopes would only be cruel.

Mr. Massani, I can't express how sorry I am to be forced to deliver you this message. Jack had become such integral part of the Academy and especially her students in these times... They will miss her dearly. And so will I.

She never hesitated to sacrifice herself for her students. She was a hero. She won't be forgotten. This much I can promise you.

With sincere sympathy,

Kahlee Sanders

I put down the pad, a cold and numb sensation gripping my chest.

"They…" The mercs voice was no more than a weak rasp. "They left her behind to die."

I walked over to the cabinet. Something strong. I noticed a black and silver label I had seen in Shepard's cabin as well. I filled up one glass and sat it in front of the merc. He knocked back the whiskey in one go.

We said nothing for a very long time.