Three months. Three months of running, three months of fighting, three months of this godforsaken place. And it was, finally, over. It had run its course: he had found his father, was ready to finally return home, no matter what stood in his way. The only problem?

Jack leaned back against the wall, feeling so very much like a prisoner. Not to the Brotherhood, but the Wasteland. Now, he was a wanted fugitive by the Enclave; now, if he tried to go home, they were likely to follow him there; now, no matter how much he wanted to crawl back into Vault 101 and mourn, there was inexorable desire for revenge that could only be slaked if he stayed in this nightmare. He couldn't see things any other way.

Make no mistake, he wanted revenge. He wanted that fucking Colonel's head on a plate and the rest of his men dead and thrown in mass graves. He wanted to find wherever the Enclave had scurried back to like rats and kill every. Single. One. Of. Them.

But he wouldn't. He wasn't that guy, no matter what else he had done. He couldn't let himself become that guy, because it would be the last thing his father would wanted. It would be betraying his father's memory.

But the language of the Wasteland was violence, and he knew how to speak it, meet it there and beat it, stab it, blow it up. He knew he could make them pay, make them all hurt like he hurt. No stone unturned, no room left uncleared, nothing left to chance. Burn it all and damn the consequences.

But...

But he had seen the look in his father's eyes when he admitted to killing (not murdering) Wolfgang, hurting Bittercup, wiping out those weirdos in Meresti. The disappointment, the grief, the ever-deepening concern as they made their way back to Rivet City - all of it. But the disappointment stung the most, got in deep and became infected, the fact that his father told him he still loved him in spite of his actions. That he had done things worthy of rejection and was being accepted anyways. That he couldn't be accepted, not anymore.

But...

But Jack had already failed. He'd already let this place corrupt him. He'd already lost, a long time ago. I don't want you to follow me, his father had said in his goodbye holotape. You shouldn't be here, he said. You were supposed to stay home.

But...

But his father was dead. Jack had watched him vomit, bleed out of his eyes, then rasp and finally collapse. Jack had beaten his knuckles bloody against the glass, clawed at the doors, slammed his head into the blast door so hard he still had a bandage over the cut.

Jack swallowed, shivered, and broke down into sobs.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he said. "I'm so sorry. I won't. I promise, I won't."

"Are you still wearing a hoodie into the Fleet?" Tali asked him, arms crossed.

"I washed it five times," Jack said.

He could hear her roll her eyes. "It's still going to need detoxing. Your gas mask, too. Keelah knows where you got the filters."

Shepard looked at Tali, who sighed.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm angry with the Admiralty Board, not you."

"I understand," Jack said.

"Thank you," Tali said, looking away from him.

As the Migrant Fleet came into view, Tali took a breath, then said, "This is Tali vas Neema nar Rayya, requesting permission to dock with the Rayya."

"Our system has your ship flagged as Cerberus," The Rayya operator said hesitantly. "Verify, please."

"After time adrift among open stars," Tali said. "Along tides of light and through shoals of dust, I will return to where I began."

Jack straightened himself, and his fingers drew out the shank made of scrap metal that he had made the previous night. He wasn't certain at all that it would be able to pierce a Quarian suit, but it was something. Not that he didn't have a shiv up his other sleeve, of course, or the standard-issue Alliance knife he'd found for sale at a seedy weapons shop on Omega openly strapped to his hip. Then his hand went to his new pistol, folded into a shockingly small rectangle from the belt he had made to hold it. He had his railway rifle slung over his back, too, and a few stripper clips of railway spikes also attached to his belt. Those, he was certain, would cut through their suits. If they wanted to take him, he would be ready.

Then he took a breath, too, steadying himself as the Normandy docked with the Rayya. He adjusted his hood, and the fitting of his gas mask, even though they didn't need it.

Tali spoke some more, procedures he expected, but the cleaning process wasn't pleasant. He had been through something similar once before - the Vault had an impressive paranoia about people getting colds, considering how isolated it was - and he didn't like it then, either. He rankled under the harsh scrubbers and the detoxing chemicals swiftly ate through the filters of his gask mask.

But it was over soon enough, and as he expected, the moment he stepped onto the ship, he had guns trained on him.

"That's a Cerberus operative," the captain said. "Get him the hell off my ship!"

Shepard swatted one of the guns aside, stepping in front of Jack. "He's part of my team. I take responsibility for his actions."

"I'm letting you on this ship as a favor to Tali," the captain said. "Not him."

"It's alright," Tali made calming motions with her hands. "I trust him."

Jack turned his head to look at her, shocked. She didn't look back at him.

"He has killed good members of the Fleet," the captain shot back. "I won't have a murderer walking on my ship."

"Jack is part of my team," Shepard said again. "Unless you want to shoot me and him, he's coming with us."

The captain glared at Shepard for a long moment. "People here have been briefed on him, Tali. I can't guarantee his safety. Or yours, Commander."

He said it like it was a four-letter word. Shepard was impassive, but Jack's heart began beating a little faster. He'd faced death before, but the idea of dying in front of Tali made him pale.

"I'll guide them away from the more militant members of the crew," Tali said.

"There's more of those these days," the captain said. "Especially with the charges against you."

"I'll handle it." Tali replied stiffly.

The captain glared at Jack, then looked back to Tali and sighed.

Jack wasn't impressed by the Fleet. All he felt when looking at it was sadness. He had done further research on the Quarians, what they had before the Morning War and how far the Galaxy had let them fall without help, and it caused him some melancholy. He had lived like this once, or something like it, anyway. He did his best to shake off the memories of the person he used to be.

He was recognized by fewer people than he hoped and yet still too many for comfort. It was the staring of the regular people that got to him, though. All that collective attention was universally a bad thing in the Wastes. The whispers that followed them didn't help either, even if those were mostly about Shepard. Could he blame them? No, even if part of him did. Did it also set off his paranoia? Of course it did. He was, yet again, grateful for his gas mask hiding his face.

They had nobody stop them in their path to the trial chamber, until the door itself, outside of which stood a tall Quarian who carried himself as gruffly as any member of the Brotherhood. Particularly Gunny, the jackass.

Jack idled just behind Shepard as the Quarian approached Tali.

"I wanted to see you before the trial." he said.

"I'm not sure that would be seen favorably, Admiral." Tali said. "Not that I'm not grateful, I am, but-"

"This trial," the admiral said with distaste. "It isn't about you, kid. You're just caught in the crossfire from Koris and his cowards."

"Oh," Tali said.

"This will be over soon," the admiral said. "We'll get your name cleared and then you can get back to whatever you're doing with Shepard."

"We're fighting the Collectors," Tali said. But the admiral had noticed something - or, rather, Jack.

"You," The admiral said imperiously. "Stop hiding behind Shepard. Get over here."

Jack glanced between Shepard and Tali, adjusting the strap that held his railway rifle slightly and stepping into the admiral's view.

"There you are," he said. "I'm surprised Tali is even working with you."

"Admiral Gerrel, he is my colleague," Tali said.

"I read your report, kid," Admiral Gerrel said. "He held you at gunpoint, killed our people. And what did happen to those slavers on Mindoir?"

Jack stiffened.

"Oh yes, we know about that." Gerrel said. "What sort of bombs did you use? Tali has described them, but we didn't get any clear helmet cam footage of them from Haestrom, and I'd like to know - in case you decide to start shooting at us again."

"Admiral," Tali said. "Please."

Jack sighed. "I can show you. I have the schematics on my omni-tool. The formula for the liquid I use, too."

"You're very forthcoming," Admiral Gerrel said slowly.

"Fuck Cerberus," Jack said. "If they didn't have me under their thumb, I'd shoot them all myself."

"Jack," Shepard said.

"I don't mind," the Admiral said. "Surprising, of course, but then again, I'd never expect you to be working for Cerberus either, Captain Shepard."

"I'm working with them," Shepard said. "Not for."

Admiral Gerrel glanced between the two of them, and the amusement was clear as he said, "I don't doubt it. Now, kid," he turned back to Tali. "You're gonna face some fire in there. Keep your head and you'll be fine."

"Thank you, Admiral," Tali said.

"Anytime, kid," the admiral said. "I hope we'll find your father."

"My father?" Tali asked.

"Oh." Gerrel frowned with his eyes, then shook his head. "It's nothing. I need to get moving. There are still some preparations to make. Wait here."

And with that, the admiral left. Tali looked to Shepard, then shook her head. "Keelah. Let's just get this over with."

"Is there anyone else you'd like to talk to?" Shepard asked.

"Reegar, maybe," Tali said. "But we should get going." She muttered, "For whatever that's worth."

Jack wanted to tell her it would be okay, like he would have a million years ago with Susie, but he knew better. Then he chided himself for placing thoughts of Tali next to Susie. Bad idea.

Jack was surprised by the size of the chamber when they were finally let in, by how much greenery there was. When was the last time he'd seen anything green that he wasn't eating? There were great leaves and vines carefully decorating the room, as well as planters with flowers. It was... beautiful, really, from where Jack was standing.

What wasn't so beautiful were the Admirals. Well... the one in the black and grey suit drew his eyes, but a lot of hips could do it for him. Her voice didn't help either - when she spoke, Jack shuddered, and his mind dove straight into the gutter. Shepard looked at him with a good deal of judgement, as if Jack wasn't already judging himself.

Admiral Gerrel was right: they did put Tali under some truly stupefying pressure. Revealing to her mid-trial that her father's ship had been seized by Geth - fucking low, Jack thought as the admiral named Koris threw it in Tali's face. Then the last thing he expected happened: they were given a mission. Jack cursed under his breath. He was willing to fight, but he knew when it was smart and when you should turn tail. That instinct had helped keep him alive. The prospect of a tight, cramped ship full of Geth? Hazardous would be a kind word. Worse, to him, was the perverse guarantee of absolution if Tali was killed. That any court could sanction something like that... he shook his head.

At least, Jack reflected, he was with two people he trusted. Hopefully, they'd find Tali's father. If they could do that, then Jack would attack that ship a hundred times over.