Hey, all! Just wanted to throw a shout-out to everyone who read and reviewed and favorite the first chapter! I've decided to continue, so thanks for the encouragement. This chapter will be slowing it down a bit, doing some character development and looking at relationships. Someone pointed out to me that I forgot about Vega, but I didn't. I just don't know enough about his character to write him, and I don't want to take liberties with something I know nothing about. So, once the game comes out I will do re-writes that include him. But, by that time, none of us will be reading fanfiction cuz we'll be too busy playing the game. I digress. =)

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A thrust. A carefully timed strike. A low grunt.

Sweat stings her eyes as she weaves in and out, dodging and blocking and dancing with a tireless adversary. Her foe swings back and forth with endless predictability, but nevertheless tired legs and weary arms struggle to keep up, to win this battle.

Another series of sloppy footwork and imprecise attacks remind Serah that she's been at this far too long. Still, she's determined to punish this heavy-bag; its shell is scratched and worn, undoubtedly from others' attempts at doling out justice of their own. This bag was responsible for too many horrors and wrongs and hurts and it was going to get what it deserved.

She would make sure of that.

The biotic throws roundhouses and snap kicks and heavy-fisted right hooks that sometimes hit their target and sometimes don't and mostly just exist to make her feel better about, well, everything.

"Impressive form," comes a voice from the doorway, as she strikes the air with her heel and stumbles forward. "Planning on spin-kicking the Reapers back into dark space?"

She swipes furiously at the tears running down her cheeks -thankful that they're masked by a thick layer of perspiration – and turns to face her addresser. It's that Turian she doesn't know the name of, his tall form leaning against the doorframe. His mandibles twitch as a smug grin spreads over his face, though she doesn't return the gesture. "Pretty face," she spits back, her dark mood anything but playful. "Planning on charming that Asari to help you out of your virginity?"

Surprisingly, he laughs - a scratchy, crackle-sounding thing that reminds her of tires on gravel. "Liara?" Another chuckle. "To help her out of her own, would be more appropriate."

That comment definitely sets her off-balance. Either he's too thick to catch the maliciousness of her statement, or he was clever enough to redirect the conversation. Serah gives him a wistful look-over, eventually deciding on the latter.

The scent of dry air and stale sweat invades her senses, followed by an apathetic realization that it's her own body generating the pungent odor. Nostrils curl with a casual sniff, and shoulders fall forward into a sigh. She's too angry and too damn tired to be self-conscious.

"This is an odd time to be awake," the Turian says eventually, breaking the still silence. "Especially after-" he stops himself just in time, just before her eyes grow wide and her hands once again ball into fists.

Especially after what? The destruction of my planet? Go ahead three-fingers, say it.

He clears his throat. "Especially after...all you've been through today. I'm sure you're exhausted."

Good save, Turian. "I couldn't sleep," she admits with a shrug. "Thresher Maw hiding in the closet."

"Now that's one hell of a bed-time monster." He crosses long arms over his chest and shoots her a look that she assumes is sympathetic. "I'm sure it's nothing that a tall glass of brandy can't fix."

She makes for the door sluggishly, a slight twist to her mouth. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a connoisseur of human drinks."

"Connoisseur?" He huffs, falling into stride beside her. "Nah, human alcohol isn't nearly potent enough for my tastes. I do observe the crew members' habits, however. Of the limited options available to relieve stress, drinking seems to be the most popular."

She frowns. "I can't drink on duty."

"I wouldn't suggest it...merely pointing out that Doctor Chakwas keeps a few bottles of the Serrice Ice delicacy in med bay storage." His face is stoic, but she senses the slightest hint of an impish tone.

"I'll...keep that in mind." She winds her way through a maze of unfamiliar walls and cold deckplates and a sea of foreign faces with tired eyes that should be asleep but aren't, probably for reasons similar to her own. She halts when they reach the mess area, the scent of warm food rustling hunger in her empty stomach.

The Turian suddenly extends a long arm in her direction, and she gives his hand a quick, mechanical shake. "Garrus Vakarian."

"Operations Chief Serah Gray," she responds, forcing out a small smile. "Thanks for, uh, the talk, Vakarian."

"Just Garrus," he corrects. "If you need anything, I'll be in the Main Battery finishing some calibrations."

She nods as he strides away purposefully, disappearing around the corner.

"Hey, Chief." Her eyes roam the room, finally coming to a stop on Major Alenko's figure seated at the mess table, hunched over a mountainous plate of food. "Care to join me?"

Nodding again, she slips into the chair across from him, thankful for a moment to rest. Her stomach growls irritably as the scent of beef and potatoes reach her nose.

"Everything all right?"

Serah arches forward on her elbows and fixes her gaze on his meal. "Earth is in the process of being annihilated, humans are supposed to be sticking together, and the most welcoming person I've encountered on this ship has been a damn Turian."

Alenko leans back, considering this. "Look at these people," he says between mouthfuls. "They're scared shitless. This whole thing is like a bad nightmare come true – you can't blame them for not noticing the new kid on the playground."

"It's just, that was my home, you know?" She pictures dust. She tries to imagine Vancouver as it was before the attack, but images of destruction flood her mind. It's all just dust; a skeleton of what was. Endless mountains of smoke surrounding the carcass of a city. The taste of death and metal. "Now it's gone."

"Get ahold of yourself, chief. You have to pick yourself up and move forward."

She knows his words were intended to support, to strengthen, but nevertheless they sting like ice. No matter how hard she tries – how hard she's tried – Serah can't figure Alenko out. Sometimes he speaks to her as if they're friends, as if he's not her superior and they're just two buddies shooting the shit. Other times, though, he pulls the rank card; he speaks to her as if she's a child, as if she's nothing more than an inferior grunt under his command. As if she's a burden.

This is one of those times.

"I'm sorry," she breathes after a long pause, unable to bear the maddening silence. "Your parents were back in Vancouver, weren't they, Major?" As soon as the words leave her mouth Serah realizes the mistake she's made, and no matter how much she wishes for it, she can't pull them back in. Smooth move. After discussing his dead parents, why don't you mention something about the entire Company of biotics he left behind on Earth? That should go over well.

"They were," he replies, staring past her shoulder. She fights the urge to turn her head and discover what it is that's holding his gaze, primarily because she knows she won't find anything. "Truthfully, I hadn't given it much thought."

"You know, Major, all I can think about is how I'm glad to be alive." Serah reaches across for his dinner knife and proceeds to stab a potato, munching on it thoughtfully. "I mean, Warren and Pagefield were right there in the barracks with me. Right there. And then shit hit the fan, and I didn't give them a second thought. I didn't even check..."

He shoots her a painfully sympathetic look, and once again she scolds herself for forcing the topic. She doesn't understand what he's feeling; how can she? "Stop that train of thought right there, Chief. You don't want to go down that road." He lifts his chocolate eyes to meet hers. "Just, don't blame yourself. They were my responsibility."

"We've all lost someone," Shepard suddenly declares, swaggering around the bulkhead – rather self-importantly, Serah thinks – and facing the near-empty mess hall as if she is addressing an immeasurable crowd. "We've lost people before, we lost people today, and we're sure as hell going to lose people before this is all over."

Serah voices the concern that she sees brooding behind Alenko's eyes. "And what if it never ends? What happens if we lose, Shepard?" Reinstated or not, I'll be damned before I call this traitor 'Commander.' She may have earned the title years ago, but she sure as hell doesn't deserve it now.

Shepard puffs out her chest and waves an all-encompassing arm over her audience. Of two. "We can't lose if we never give up." She crosses her arms boldly. "One step at a time, that's how we've got to take this. We can't defeat the Reapers overnight. It may take months – it may take years – but if that's what is required then that's what we'll give and we will push them back. Make no mistake: we will not just sit by and watch this happen. The Reapers asked for a fight, and now they've got one."

Alenko pushes the food around his plate disinterestedly, taking occasional stabs at chunks of meat. "I've missed your pep talks, Commander," he says with a half-hearted laugh. Serah doesn't fail to notice the distance in his voice, the hesitation, as if he's looking at a friend but speaking to a stranger.

Shepard's dark gaze comes to a solemn rest on his form. "I'm glad you're here, Kaidan."

Kaidan.

Kaidan, Kaidan, Kaidan. Serah swallows and sinks in her chair, trying to make herself small, all the while cursing the injustice of getting caught in the middle of another intimate moment. So they're on a first name basis - that's what friends do. No big deal.

Except, the way Shepard's looking at him is anything but friendly. It's...desirous, ravening.

It's sickening.

She glances around nervously. Maybe she can sneak away-

"And you too, Gray." The Commander's gaze now falls on her. "We need all the help we can get. If you're part of Kaidan's team, you must be a skilled biotic; we're lucky to have you aboard."

The words should have brought comfort. They should have brought warmth and ease and an accepting recognition of Shepard's goodwill. But, coming from a woman who had turned her back on the Alliance and romped around in a terrorist-affiliated ship complete with an alien-petting-zoo for a crew and an all-seeing Artificial Intelligence, Gray felt anything but comforted.

"Both of you should get some rest," Shepard orders. "We'll be docking at the Citadel soon and I need you ready to go." The commander turns to stride away, throwing one last, gallant look over her shoulder. "We're going to get help, and we are going to take back Earth."

"She's awfully optimistic," Serah grumbles once Shepard is out of sight.

"What else can she be? People wouldn't follow her is she didn't inspire hope."

The only thing she inspires you to do is stare at her ass some more. Don't pretend like I didn't notice, Alenko. I did. I noticed. "You outrank her, sir. I'd follow you before anyone else."

His lips curl into the slightest of smiles, but his eyes remain aloof. "I'm taking a backseat on this one, Chief. Shepard's the expert here – I'm just following her lead. I've got a feeling the entire galaxy will be on her heels for this one."

The soft, resonating hum of the drive core penetrates the ensuing silence. Resting sore muscles and bruised elbows on the table, Serah fixes the Major with a hard stare. A dark part of her mind wonders if maybe she can jump ship once they reach the Citadel, if maybe she can escape before Shepard drags them all down with her. The more rational part of her mind, however, laughs at the idea. What good can she do on her own? Besides, she's not going to desert the Alliance, she's not going to desert the 1st Spec Ops, and she sure as hell is not going to desert the Major.

If Alenko's riding the coattails of this lunatic commander, then she'll have to do it as well. Reluctant or not, she'll stay as long as Alenko stays. Or until Shepard is out of the picture.

Now that's a thought. Why should Serah leave the ship, when Shepard is clearly the problem? I'll find some way to get her off the Normandy. It's a dangerous idea, but maybe, just maybe...

Sleep definitely won't come easy now.

She might just pay a visit to the medbay, after all.

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Well, there it is. Slowed the pace down quite a bit, and I hope it wasn't too angsty. It had to be done, though, and after numerous edits and re-writes I'm still not very pleased with this chapter, but I'll tweak things based off of your feedback – that would really help me. I've got some serious action planned for the next chapter, so I hope that makes up for the slowness of this one. I appreciate thoughts, comments, concerns, criticisms, etc. =)

BTW, if you're into Shenko and need more, check out Smartlooks. Feed the addiction.