Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect, or any of its characters, though I wish I could. They belong to Bioware and EA. Any other characters are mine unless stated otherwise. All songs and quotes are credited to their respected owners. I make no money with this Fanfiction. It's just my imagination gone crazy.

Special Note: This chapter was way overdue. I even got reviews and private messages asking when I would post again. Haha. I love you guys. I actually started this chapter a long while ago but for some reason I lost the muse to continue and I got writers block. It sucked. Anyways I hope you like the chapter. I had to put on my big girl pants and push through to finish it. Hope I did it justice. Feron is a complex individual and I'm sure he did not come out relatively sane after all he suffered. Ehhh… I'm still in need to a beta. So let me know if you are up to it. I have many stories if this is not the one you want to work on. Btw, yes I know my chapters are weird. I'll fix them soon, promise. Until next time folks. Please R&R.

'Shivers run down my spine. It is nothing pleasant. It is cold, it is always cold. I notice my breath. Short, labored. The puffs leave my mouth in short burst. I regret losing the heat of them. I cannot help it, though. I need to breathe. My nose is broken as well as the bridge, and just the slightest movement from it hurts so I must breath from my mouth. I feel the grains underneath me, they are rough and numerous. It is uncomfortable. They dig in between my scales and irritate the sensitive skin underneath. I do not get a moments rest, even in my cell. It is cold, small and only has four walls. Dark, no light, no bed. Nothing but me.

I am losing my colors. My eyes are dull and no longer glossy and full of life. My back has sores, and the bruises have begun to show even more as time begins to pass. My wrists are raw from the restraints of that god awful chair, and the blisters are starting to pop and bleed. I do not know how much more I can take of this. My mind is beginning to falter. I no longer have a good memory to fall upon in my darkest hours. All I remember is pain, all I feel is pain.

My breath hitches as my heart skips a beat. I cry out but not loud enough to alert them. It is painful and my face contorts. My back arches slightly, and I rub at my chest to relieve the pressure as I come back down and my life resumes. It works, but not for long. Why can't they just end it? It's been so long. How long, I am not sure. I wish I did. It might help ease the pain in my soul.

My throat is raw from my screams. I am dehydrated and hungry. My body is failing. But when they notice, they will revive me until the point where I am near breaking again and this process will repeat. I'm beginning to stop fighting. They hurt me less then and even if it is not a significant amount, I still can notice it. I feel like a coward as tears begin to stain the frills of my cheeks but that is something I cannot help. At least I have the comfort of knowing that no one will see me in this moment but me.

I've prayed to Kalahira since I arrived to show me mercy and just take me across the sea. I prayed to Arashu to protect me for whatever amount of time I have to rest before they come again and last but not least to Amonkira in hopes that when someone finally comes to take them down, and if I have passed, that they will suffer to their very last breath before someone puts a bullet through their skulls.

But I am starting to lose faith. They have not heard my prayers. I'm still here. They have forgotten me. I know I have not prayed to them before I came here against my will but I know I've done good deeds at least to warrant against this.

Will I never atone enough to be free?

The door opens, and I have to squint my eyes from the bright light that filters through the now open door. They have come. Three as per usual. What torture is in for today?

Electric shock?

Pealing the scales off my back?

Perhaps beating me with bats or boards.

Who knows?

I never usually do. I'm scared, please someone save me. I cannot take much more of this.

I raise my legs and I wait for them to surround me. My arms and hands are weak; this is the only thing I can do to fight them off. I cannot give up fully, just yet anyways. I must make their jobs harder for them. Otherwise what are they getting paid for?

To stand there like human wall ornaments and look pretty?

Surely not.

I know this routine. They will drag me kicking and screaming if they have to. The first blow hit one straight in the stomach and he flew back into the wall with a grunt and a sneer. The second did not make contact as it was grabbed and pulled none too gently. They grab my shoulders and arms as I was distracted trying to pull free, pulling them to the point where the bone will pop from its socket if they do not stop soon. I bite my lower lip hard, the dry skin cracks and I start to bleed as the scream that threatens to come out stops. I will not give them the satisfaction but they will soon have it.

It's only a matter of time.

The trip to that god awful room was not long, but the snickers and kicks to my shins of the hired mercs that line the walls do not settle my nerves for what is to come.

The straps soon dig into my raw skin and the wires for my vitals are taped to my scales. They make sure I am strapped and secure. No chance of escape. It is useless and pointless. I can't escape either way but the Shadow Broker is not stupid. He knows given the chance, I will try even if it meant my death. I would gladly welcome it.

As I look up into the control room from this hell I'm in and I see the merc that mans it, he grins, his eyes playful. He is sadistic and the thought of my pain is what he looks forwards to every time I am in this situation. The men that strapped me leave and I know that it is time for the inevitable. His finger itches to flip the switch that causes me pain but he known that without the Shadow Broker's orders he would be shot on sight so he stills his wants and remains ready.

Soon the confirmation is heard over the speaker mounted above, my throat itches and I try to swallow the small amount of saliva I have saved to quench my dry throat. Maybe this time will be the last. Maybe this time I will cross the waiting sea. Maybe…

The merc on the machine chuckles and shakes his head. He murmurs something that my muddied ears cannot hear and his finger lunges to the switch, he flips it…

Pain…..

All I feel is pain…'

Feron woke with a start, his chest was hurting and tears began to form in his milky black eyes. He hated dreaming, though more like memories they still were as real as if he currently lived it. He blinked his double set of eye lids rapidly and pushed back the tears. He will not cry, he will not show weakness. All he suffered is over. Shepard and Liara saved him, the old Shadow Broker and the mercs that tortured him used to lay dead in a puddle of their own blood on the base. He saw it with his own eyes when the cleanup began. Even those that hid like cowards died at his hands, slow and painfully. He was safe. He had to remember that. It was only a dream, only a memory.

Looking around the room through his haze, he noticed he was alone. The window staring towards the mass effect core was dimmed and dark light filtered through the room, perhaps due to his roommate. Usually Feron did not sleep long. The Drell species in general only slept six hours at most, but he only slept two to three. He would be up before the assassin, showered and fed. Today was not one of those days. Usually his dreams would not be as long; he would wake before they took him. He did not know why today was different. It was nothing significant. He did not eat anything that upset his stomach before bed. He did nothing out of the ordinary.

So why?

Why now?

He clenched his fist as he swung his legs over the small cot, his body slouching and his head hung. He was shaking, he realized. He was scared that it would happen again if he closed his eyes, even though he knew it wouldn't but it did not prevent him from trying not to blink. It stung his eyes and made them water. The Commander would not allow it. Aleana would save him. She was his Siha, his warrior Goddess. Grunting, he stood and stretched his aching muscles. He didn't wish to be here any longer. His dream, or rather memory, was still fresh. He was starting to suffocate. Grabbing a quick change of clothes he left and showered. The water was cold as ice but after the shock, he felt better. His body no longer short of breath, his heart no longer beating to the point where it would burst through his chest. He was okay again. But he still remembered. He didn't want to remember.

The day went on as normal. Visit the crew he befriended, go to the Cargo Hold and shoot targets, do some hand to hand and then meditate. Normal. Coming out of his Zen he sighed heavily. Even that couldn't come out right enough for him.

What was wrong with him?

Before all this he took risk, even if his work would be more dangerous in the long run. He was in his prime. He was young, agile. Trained, fierce. He felt like he aged twenty years in a short amount of time. Putting his head in his hand grunted tiredly. This is not how he wanted to live after he escaped. Not that he thought it would ever happen but here he was. He did not want to be sheltered, scared. He saw the look of pity on the crew's faces and hated it with all that he could. The look of disgust and anger from the xenophobic few and sneered in return. Maybe if he didn't take the job from the Shadow Broker he wouldn't have suffered all of this in the first place. But then he would have not met Liara. The Collectors would have taken every human and insured the Reapers victory. Shepard would have been just burnt meat, and he would not have seen her as his Siha.

Was it worth it?

In his muse, he did not hear anyone enter the Cargo Hold. He did not hear the light steps coming towards him and did not hear the soft musical voice of the one calling his name until it was too late. Feeling a soft hand on his bare shoulder, his vest, jacket and shirt folded neatly at his side, taken off when he began his routine, he jumped to his feet and swung his leg back. His calf connected with a strong forearm, his eyes darkened in hatred and for a second he saw the enemy. He was wrong though. It wasn't.

"Wow tiger! I come in peace…"Aleana eyes widened at the sudden attack. Luckily she had the reflexes to counter it. Otherwise she would have a huge bruise on her face instead of her arm. The dull throbbing attested to that but it was ignorable. She could take a small hit but damn Drell and their thicker and stronger body. Stepping back to an appropriate distance, she held her hands up in surrender. Her body hunching in submission to show him she meant no harm. She was worried. Her eyes shown with it and he felt ashamed. He just attacked his Siha.

What was wrong with him!

Coming down from his stance, his eyes widened in shock. Though impossible, they did and he chocked down the whimper.

"Commander…..Aleana…..I-I'm s-so sorry!" He began to retreat. His legs shaking slightly as he tried to bend and gather his clothing. He needed to leave. She was surely mad at him. He could not bear the thought. She'd surely kick him out now. He was nothing but trouble.

"Feron! Stop. It was a mistake…Please don't leave…." She spoke softly, no pity, only worry shinning in her voice. That made him stop. His Siha. He had to remember. She was not like others. She knew what he went through. Stopping his retreat he stood taller now. He would do anything for her even if it went against what his body wanted to do.

"Commander….Is there something you needed?" His voice was deeper than normal and wavered slightly, the vibration sending chills down her spine. Shaking herself from the want of hearing more of his rich sound she shook her head. Taking small, slow steps towards him. She didn't want to frighten him. He looked skittish and closed off. She had not seen him all day and she was worried. Though she only had herself to blame. She was out on Illium.

"I was just passing and when I saw you I wanted to come see you….Well I mean I wanted to see if you were okay. We haven't spoken in a bit…Feron, you know you can speak to me about anything….Are you okay?" She was tripping over her words and she knew for the life of her that she couldn't get out what she was saying. Feron thought it was cute, sweet. He wanted her to fumble more, but now was not the time for it. She said she wanted to see him. He was happy. He wanted to share everything with her in that instance but he couldn't yet.

Maybe in time, but not now.

Scoffing, he waved his hand in front of his face and tried to dismiss the worry she felt. He smiled at her and waved her to him. They spoke no more. It was not needed. He just wanted to be near her and though he did not know it, she felt the same.

As he sat there next to her, on the cold metallic ground of the Cargo Hold he realized something. It was gone. He felt peace since the day began. The scent coming from the human woman besides him was soft but sweet and surrounded him like a cocoon. It was like it protected him. He forgot his memory then and it never crossed his mind even after she left. All he had was her scent. He was safe.

Sitting at his coat now, he looked to the older Drell across from him. A mug in his hands, most likely the medicated tea he often drank for his Kepral's. He was peaceful, his posture straight and looking like ever the gentleman.

"I have not seen you today. You are doing well?" Thane's voice, rich and deep, assault his ear canals. At first Feron did not know how to respond. Was Thane truthfully worried about him? Was he sizing him up again? His voice didn't betray any ill feelings, but as an assassin he was a master at hiding his emotions. They were currently rivals so he couldn't lose face now. Still….

"I'm fine..Thank you…. Yourself?" Feron responded in kind. It was only proper. He did in the end have a good day with his Siha after all. His body shook with a silent chuckle. Thane mood would certainly sour if he knew. But when Thane chuckled out loud, he knew something was up. Damn this man. He may have been older, wiser, and perhaps better skilled but he had his own tricks too.

"Fine, actually. Aleana and I spent a great deal of the day together. The view across Illium's bustling city was….spectacular."

So that was his aim. Feron thought as his large teeth grinded against each other. Damn sneak.

Fine…Want to play it like that, huh? Feron lips formed a wide smirk.

"Ah. So that's where she was before she came to meditate with me. Though now that I think of it, I was a bit cold being shirtless as we sat next to each other…Oh so very close….Perhaps next time I will remember…Who knows…" He said with a laugh in his voice. Seeing the older Drell flinch ever so slightly, he knew he won. He was seething. He could feel the hatred in waves. Lying back on his cot, he stretched his limbs as far as he was able, and when he closed his eyes he fell into a deep sleep.

Only this time, for once in more than two years, no bad dreams or bad memories came. Just her sweet face, her soft smile and her rich laugh. He smiled in the darkness as he slept. She was truly his salvation.