A/N: Welcome to my Mass Effect 3 redux. This fic will be a re-write of ME3, with a some key elements from ME2 thrown into the mix. Although it adheres to canon in some respects, it is not a strict re-telling of the game and I will be constructing elements of my own mythology.

There are dozens of well-crafted Shepards to be found, but this particular one is mine. I don't leave a lot of Author's Notes so feel free to ping me any questions, comments etc. Otherwise, you're in for the long haul with this one and I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

As of January 2017, this story has undergone editing and a little bit of rewriting. I have also made the decision to incoporate some segments of my shorter story - No Impact, No Idea - into the body of this one.

Chapter 1
The Commander's Mantra

SSV Normandy SR-1

'Just breathe. Maintain control. Don't let the crew see how scared you are.'

If everything around her was going SNAFU and the odds stacked against her, the simple words helped her focus. They gave her an edge to carry her through where others would fail and die.

After all, she was Commander Shepard – sole survivor of the slaughter of Alliance marines on Akuze and Hero of the fucking Citadel.

This time her mission had been search and destroy – to eliminate the last vestiges of geth resistance. It seemed straightforward enough – if one could label the pursuit of a highly advanced A.I species straightforward. The problem was that they hadn't found the geth at all. Instead the SSV Normandy had run into an alien ship possessing destructive potential greater than that of almost the entire galactic fleet. The proverbial shit and the fan had well and truly collided. In the midst of a colossal shitstorm the Normandy was one ship, and the crew were having their asses handed to them. The Commander's mantra was stuck on repeat in her head.

There was no question about it. The Normandy was dying.

Shepard fought to stay on her feet as her ship took another glancing blow. The comm system was a chaotic blend of real and artificial voices overlapping to create a cacophony of sound. The automated warning system excelled at stating the obvious. As it advised of yet another system failing Shepard thought that it should just be reprogrammed to say 'you're all fucked.' At least that would be honest.

The artificial, calm, controlled tone seemed out of place. "Structural integrity compromised on decks one, two..."

Hardsuit on – check, Shepard thought. Helmet...where the fuck is my helmet?

"Evan!"

The voice was not remotely artificial. It was loud and firm, and so familiar with its underlying tones of silk. Shepard spun to see her N7 helmet being offered to her. As her hand stretched out to take it, she met the intense blue-eyed gaze of Dr Liara T'Soni.

Liara...

Just a split second later Shepard's free hand was clutching desperately at the back of the asari's slender neck, hastily drawing Liara close so she could claim her lips in a fierce kiss. The response was immediate and just as intense, accompanied by the barely audible sound of a whimper. Both human and asari clung to each other, preserving a moment of sanity in the midst of chaos, of life in the midst of death.

Shepard drew back only a fraction. "Get yourself to an escape pod, Doctor." Her lips brushed Liara's as she spoke. "I'll be right behind you."

"Where are you going?" Liara demanded, obviously determined not to be so easily shoved aside.

"I need to get to Joker. The stupid bastard is trying to save a lost ship."

"Then I'm coming-"

"No!" Shepard growled, her voice deliberately harsh. She wrenched herself out of Liara's embrace and gave her a shove with the hand that had been caressing her half a minute earlier. "Go, Liara. That's an order! Your priority is to get these people to safety!" And yourself.

For a moment Liara's eyes flashed with mutinous intent. It disappeared, replaced by a fierce determination. "Aye, aye, Commander." The formal response was anything but cold. The few words carried within them an undeniable passion.

Holding onto Shepard's gaze, Liara pulled on her own helmet. Shepard soon followed suit. The stuffy N7 helmet locked into her hardsuit and provided her with the detachment she needed. Only moments later, the Normandy was rocked by yet another explosion and Shepard was tossed like a ragdoll against a nearby bulkhead. Liara reeled and clutched at a still intact console to maintain her footing.

"Evan!" she called out in a wretched voice.

"Get the fuck out of here, Liara!"

With one last look at Shepard's emotionless mask, the asari turned and ran in the direction of a pair of wounded crewmembers struggling to move along the shattered, writhing corridor.

A bitter thought crossed Shepard's mind as she watched Liara leave. She had forgotten to tell her how much she loved her. She shook off the thought. There would be time later. After all, she'd be in the escape pod right behind her.

Several crewmembers passed her in the ruined corridor. They were haggard and bloody but capable of making their own way to the pods. Even more so after she yelled herself hoarse, telling them to get their asses moving or they would answer to her after all of this was over. It was too late for the next crewmember Shepard came across. He lay in a twisted, mangled parody of himself – obviously having caught the full force of an explosion. Even as she ran past him she recognised him as one of the shuttle pilots, the young blonde one who was always grinning. She couldn't remember his name.

When she found Joker still in his chair, she was only partially grateful to find him alive. Mostly she wanted to strangle the foolish bastard. His deft fingers flew across the haptic interface in a futile effort to try and save the Normandy.

"She's lost, Joker!" Shepard found herself yelling directly in her pilot's ear when he didn't acknowledge her presence.

His eyes didn't waiver from the display. "No! I can save her!"

She responded by seizing his arm roughly and using her entire body weight to leverage him out of his seat. He protested, still trying to punch last-ditch commands into the rapidly failing systems.

"We're leaving!" she heaved again, struggling against a deadweight that did not want to be moved.

Finally she felt a shift in his body. Joker's expression changed from one of determination to despair.

"I'm coming, Commander."

Although Joker could easily walk unaided, his shuffling gait was not fast enough to dispel Shepard's fear that the Normandy would break up completely before they made it to one of the remaining pods. Her mood wasn't helped as a conduit blew out to one side, showering them both in red hot sparks and shrapnel.

Don't let the crew see how scared you are. Fuck it, I'm fucking scared!

She felt the Normandy shudder beneath her thick-soled boots in yet another death rattle. Although her heart thumped rapidly and her breath sounded hoarse and loud in her helmet, Shepard felt as though she was holding her breath. Her head felt light, almost giddy as she and Joker made the agonising journey to safety. Having come to his senses, Joker was shuffling in an awkward but fast trot, no doubt in some pain with the movement. He knew as well as his commander that their ship was been torn apart beneath the hammer-like blows of the colossal alien ship.

The escape pod lay within reach. Shepard propelled Joker forward with a shove in the middle of his back. She was just a few steps away when the bulkhead behind her blew outwards with a tearing of metal. The sudden loss of pressure was enough to dislodge the magnetic soles of her boots from the deck. There was time for a last, desperate grab at something solid before she followed the debris into space. Joker was strapping himself in and gesturing at her wildly. He was also yelling, but there was no way she could hear him.

The vacuum surrounding her was beckoning with irresistible force. Shepard slowly lost her grip on the ship's superstructure. There was the sickening realisation that she wouldn't make it to the pod. As though caught in a biotic pull, she was drawn away.

Joker was safe, but her day was becoming worse by the second. This was going to be a great story to tell the kids.

The peace of drifting free was suddenly split apart by flame and force. It slammed against her like the shockwave of a grenade in the midst of a fire fight. Her vision faded to black.

Tiny pinpricks of light appeared at the corners of her vision. The very edges of reality. Needle like sensations continued as Shepard tried to focus. It intensified to a sharp, stabbing pain in her head. Her helmet's display was flashing a warning message. Her hardsuit was compromised and it was venting O2. Driven back to full awareness she clutched behind her in a futile effort - more of an instinctive gesture than an attempt to repair something.

Shit, I'm going to die...

That thought had crossed Shepard's mind more than once in her twenty-nine years. As a newly promoted Gunnery Chief, she'd watched a hive of thresher maws decimate her entire unit on Akuze. It had taken the maws mere hours to carve their way through fifty experienced marines - some of the finest the Alliance had to offer. The screams and the stench of death on that day had been overwhelming. Although she did not die that day, she always believed that her death would come amidst similar screams. Amidst similar stenches.

Her lungs burned as she strained to draw in non-existent oxygen. There was nothing. It was the end. With this certainty Shepard was able to call bullshit on whatever asshole had claimed that you saw your life flash before your eyes just before dying. Everything was forgotten in those last moments of her life, everything save for a few flashes of a lithe blue body entwined with her own and a pair of luminous blue eyes. The planet below her loomed large, mirrored in her helmet's visor, but she could no longer see it.

It's not fucking fair, not now I've got something to live for. I didn't try hard enough...I've failed...Liara...

Defence Headquarters, Vancouver, Earth

She was suffocating. Something covered her face. A weight pressed down on her chest. Each breath came in a constricted gasp within vice-like lungs. She fought against whatever held her, striking out with her fists and thrashing her legs around. A few moments later she emerged, panting, from a tangle of bed coverings. The offending linen was tossed to the floor as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Her naked body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as though she had been working out instead of trying to sleep. Her bare feet padded across the floor of her tiny apartment. Sensors picked up her movements and harsh fluorescent lighting assaulted her eyes. It wasn't until she fumbled her way to the bathroom and splashed liberal amounts of cool water on her face that she could see properly.

Evan Shepard stared at the wet face in the mirror.

It wasn't as though she didn't recognise the woman she saw. Cerberus had done a damned good job of rebuilding the charred, barely human corpse that had been recovered from Alchera. Everything - from the steely blue of her eyes, the black hair cropped in messy layers that fell on her cheeks, to her pale skin and slightly hawkish nose - had been rebuilt.

However it wasn't really her.

This fact was brought into stark reality by the glowing orange scars that creased both cheeks and just above her right eye. Rest or advanced medical treatment had the potential to heal them completely but she didn't have the time or patience for the former and dismissed the second as a waste of resources. Shepard didn't give a fuck whether the scars made her unattractive or unapproachable – diplomacy had never been her specialty.

The thought of trying to appear attractive to anyone brought a self-deprecating smile to her face. Shepard remembered being told she was attractive. However her own thoughts on the subject were ambivalent. There had never been a shortage of women who wanted to sleep with the old Shepard, so it was largely irrelevant. Something about her was attractive, and that was all she gave a damn about. That Shepard had only cared about two things - the Marine Corps and women. It was a state of affairs that had satisfied her immensely. At least until all rationality and reason were driven away by a certain asari researcher.

Shepard dragged on a bathrobe and slumped into the chair in front of her terminal. The screen stared back at her, waiting expectantly for a message she couldn't write. What exactly was a person supposed to say to the Shadow Broker? 'Dear Liara'…no...too formal…'Hey Liara'? With a current of frustration simmering under her skin, Shepard typed out a simple, 'Liara.' She stared bitterly at the name at the top of the screen while drumming her fingers on the desk in a repetitive rhythm. 'I know it has been a while but I'm sorry.' Shepard winced and quickly deleted the sentence. She started a fresh sentence. 'We didn't part on the best of terms but...'

"That's an understatement," Shepard muttered under her breath as she continued slowly, trying to consider her words. 'I'd really appreciate the chance to talk.' "Fuck, who says that?"

After a few moments she stabbed her finger on the console and hit delete once again. Suddenly began typing in sharp, staccato bursts,

'Why the fuck should I have to apologise to you? I'm not the one who suddenly became all self-righteous. I'm the one who died remember, Liara? So fuck you. If you don't want to see me again then that suits me fine!'

When she reflected on what she had typed Shepard was able to see exactly how juvenile she sounded. Like a sixteen year old who had fallen out with a friend as opposed to a thirty-one year old adult. With one command, she erased the entire message before pushing her chair away from the desk.

Shepard rubbed her temples with the pads of her fingers. Her head was a foggy mess. Nothing had been right since the Alliance, in all its wisdom, had seen fit to take the Normandy away from her and ground her pending an inquiry into the mess in the Bahak system.

It wasn't only the indignity and disgrace of being relieved of duty but the sheer inactivity of sitting on her ass with nothing to do. While the Reapers were poised to bring true meaning to the words 'hell on earth,' she was mooning about composing messages to an ex-girlfriend.

For someone who loathed self-reflection, Shepard had too much time on her hands to mull over everything that had happened to her over the past three years. Eden Prime, Therum, Virmire, defeating Saren, dying, and everything in between – it was enough to fill several lifetimes. Shepard was only on her second.

Half an hour later, Shepard was able to momentarily able to concentrate on something else as she threw her towel to one side and dived headfirst into the cool water of the station's swimming pool. One way of maintaining sanity was to make full use of the few facilities she had access to. Her once new swimsuit was now well-worn. In lap after lap of repetitive movement, the water became her entire world. Stroke, stroke, stroke…breathe. Stroke, stroke, stroke…breathe. Unfortunately the simple rhythm eventually invited unbidden thoughts of the kind she had been struggling to ignore. The blue hues of the pool brought to mind Liara's skin and the way it felt beneath her vision was assaulted by vivid memories – from their first tender, almost sombre lovemaking en route to Ilos, to the frequent fucking during the weeks following their victory over Sovereign. In that short time, Shepard felt as though she had spent a lifetime with her lover – mostly due to the intensity of the asari melding process. Her brief relationship with Liara had meant more to her than anything that had come before – or since. Then death had inconveniently come between them. Nothing had been the same since.

Shepard reached the end of another lap and ducked downwards in an underwater turn. She slapped the end of the pool with her feet with all the force she could muster. She increased her stroke rate, driving forward as fast as she was able. It worked, and the memory of Liara's blue skin was lost. As she turned her head to breathe, she became aware of someone calling her name.

"Hey, Shepard!" It was a familiar, female voice. "Skipper!"

She already knew who it was and ignored them until she finished her length. Her hand slapped the end and she stood up, her chest heaving with each rapid breath. When she pulled off her goggles, she looked up to see Ashley Williams kneeling at the side of the pool. Her former squadmate wore a casual officer's uniform. Shepard immediately picked up something new.

"Who was the genius who promoted you, Williams?" she asked, seeing the lieutenant-commander's insignia on Ashley's shoulders.

"Obviously not the same genius that strung you up, Skipper," Ashley replied, holding out her hand to Shepard in an offer of assistance.

Once out of the pool, a dripping wet Shepard retrieved her towel. Ashley followed her with her arms folded across her chest. Shepard pressed the soft material against her face, grateful for a few moments to shake off the emotions she felt at seeing the young woman. "You know full well I've been stripped of rank. It's just plain Shepard."

"You think I give a damn about some regulation?" Ashley replied. She sounded slightly insulted. "You're Commander Shepard. Although you look as though you've forgotten it. You look like shit."

Ashley's tone hovered between concern and accusation – as though Shepard was falling short of the standards expected of an Alliance officer. Her gaze raked Shepard up and down while she towelled off. "And I don't just mean that freaky tech that Cerberus pumped into your body. You look tired and as though you haven't had a decent meal in weeks."

"Yeah well, it turns out that being grounded and having your ship taken away isn't exactly conducive to a healthy appetite," Shepard responded, giving her hair a cursory fluff with the towel.

She tossed the towel over her shoulder and considered the woman standing in front of her. They'd fought some tough battles together. The sole reason that the former Gunnery-Chief was standing in front of her was because she'd made the heart-wrenching, split-second decision to save Ashley over Kaidan Alenko on Virmire. Shepard still couldn't explain her rationale behind the decision. Alenko had been the senior officer, a seasoned biotic. Yet she'd chosen Williams - a headstrong young marine with whom she'd frequently clashed.

The last time they'd spoke, an encounter in the aftermath of a mission on Horizon, Ashley had made her feelings about Shepard working with Cerberus clear. Garrus Vakarian had to separate them when their heated exchange almost descended into physical violence. That meeting was clearly on both their minds as they sized each other up. The Lieutenant-Commander standing in her crisp Alliance. The damp woman wearing nothing other than a swimsuit, but still managing to look every inch the soldier that she was.

Ashley broke the silence. "Look, Skipper…on Horizon…I was angry when I saw you with Cerberus. I thought you'd turned your back on the Alliance. I may have said a few things-"

Shepard silenced Ashley with a wave of her hand. "Forget it-"

"Let me finish," Ashley continued. "I hate Cerberus…and I hated you for working with them, but I hate myself more for abandoning you when you needed me. I should have been with you when you went through the Omega-4 relay." The marine managed a small smile. "God knows you can't shoot worth a damn."

"You know what I always say, you throw enough bullets at them one's bound to hit." Shepard held out her hand in a conciliatory gesture.

Instead of shaking the hand, Ashley grasped it and pulled Shepard into her body.. The embrace was brief and awkward. When they stepped apart, Shepard grinned at the damp patch her wet body had made on Ashley's uniform.

"I would suggest a stroll along the river to Fratelli's for their eggs benedict, but I'm guessing that doesn't fit with your current situation."

"Don't torture me, Williams. Breakfast is usually an unidentified plastic-wrapped substance in my quarters."

"The officer's mess then? If anyone has an issue with that, they can take it up with me."

Shepard managed a half-hearted smile even though the thought of showing her face in the mess filled her with dread. "Sure thing. Give me ten minutes to make myself presentable."

With Ashley going on ahead to meet her at the officer's mess, Shepard returned to her quarters to shower and get dressed. She did her best to dispel the dread. After all, it was just breakfast with a fellow marine. A friend.

Clad in the casual uniform of an Alliance soldier with no rank insignia, Shepard made her way down to the officer's mess. It was peak breakfast time for the rest of the personnel on the base. Most of the tables were occupied. Young desk officers on their first posting out of the Academy or old salts sitting in small clusters together. Ashley Williams was easy enough to spot. The Lieutenant-Commander was standing at the head of the loudest table in the room. The men and women she was talking to weren't desk jockeys; they were bona fide space marines – although still fairly green by their manners. Shepard knew better than most that combat experience wasn't something that could be taught in the classroom. It had to be experienced the hard way. The slow learners didn't make it out.

Drawing in a small breath, Shepard started across the room. She felt eyes on her as she made her way through the chairs and around tables. Her arrival beside Ashley was announced by the sudden silence of the group in front of her. Their mouths stopped moving, they stopped eating and, to a man, they stared up at Shepard. Some were in awe. After all, Shepard had been a war hero even before becoming the first human Spectre. Before her career had really even started she'd been sole survivor from a unit of fifty good, tough marines on Akuze. Medals and rising quickly through the ranks had followed, but none of it had ever drowned out the screams of those marines when they died. Then there was the fact that she'd died and been brought back to life – her glowing scars were bound to be the show stopper at any party. They were judging her on what little scraps of scuttlebutt they'd heard about Bahak – no doubt most had discussed whether they thought Commander Evangeline Shepard, Alliance hero, could really have caused the deaths of 300,000 colonists. There were some that would refuse to believe she'd be capable of anything so horrific. There would be others that knew better. Commander Shepard had a reputation for getting things done, no matter the cost. If 300,000 dead Batarians were the cost of keeping the galaxy safe, then she'd pay it willingly.

"Shepard!" Ashley slapped her on the back with a warm grin. She turned to the six men and women at the table. "I'd like to introduce you losers to Commander Shepard."

One young man stood and saluted smartly. "Second Lieutenant Grayling, ma'am. It's a pleasure!"

"Still down Grayling, you ass," Ashley said playfully. She looked at Shepard but inclined her head towards the table of officers. "I had the dubious task of taking these FNGs through part of their OCS training at Fort Charles Upham a year ago. Kinda scary to see that they've been let loose on the world…but makes me proud at the same time."

Shepard found herself nodding and smiling but all she could really see were the pairs of eyes looking at her. Grayling still appeared ready to follow her to the depths of hell and back, while one young, red-haired woman was eyeing her through narrow eyes as though she had already been tried and found guilty.

"Will you both join us?" another officer asked expectantly.

There was a scramble to drag two additional chairs across from other tables, including one that was swiped while its occupant merely stood to reach the salt. Loud, carefree laughter followed his eventual embarrassment when he went to sit back down. One of his buddies helped him up and he whirled on the culprits with clenched fists. However, upon seeing Shepard and Williams, he turned red and went to find another chair.

Shepard fought the urge to rub her temples as the noise of voices and laughter grated. It was worse than normal, to the point where it was uncomfortable. The redhead woman was whispering something to the marine next to her. It was ridiculous for Shepard to speculate that it was gossip about her but they both glanced her way and looked away guiltily when their eyes met. As Ashley went to sit down, she unconsciously started backing away from the table. When she became aware of what she was doing, she spun on her heels and started walking on the direction of the exit. The doors were sliding open when she felt a hand grasp her arm and stop her in her tracks.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

It was only with Ashley's gaze on her that Shepard realised her eyes were stinging. She gritted her teeth helplessly. This is not happening, she thought angrily. I am not fucking crying in front of Ash and half the fucking Alliance Navy.

"Shit…Shepard," Ashley said hesitantly. It was clear she didn't know what to say. "It's just a farce you know, the Defence Council will eventually see reason and reinstate you back to active duty. They'll find another scapegoat-"

"It's not that, Williams…well, partially. I mean, it's the reason that I'm cooped up here with more time on my hands than any self-respecting soldier should have, but there's a lot on my mind," Shepard tried to keep her voice casual. "Hey, I think I'll eat in my quarters. You go eat with your marines, I'm sure they'll love the opportunity to catch up with you. We can do food another time. Maybe a drink when I get out of this mess?"

Ashley frowned but looked over her shoulder at the raucous table of young marines with a fond smile on her face. When she turned back to Shepard it was just a formality. "Are you sure, because I can ditch these guys?"

Shepard couldn't think of anything she would enjoy less than sitting down and trying to talk through the things on her mind – especially with someone as blunt as Ashley.

"Yeah, Ash. Tell them the great Shepard has a fucking, god-awful headache."

"Okay. I'll see you soon, Skipper," Ashley promised with the honesty evident in her voice. The tough marine even reached out to pat her awkwardly on the arm.

Shepard managed a smile. "I'm sure as hell not going anywhere."