A/N: I like writing fanfic. There is a freedom, a challenge in writing using someone else's world, someone else's lore that is just as satisfactory as writing in a world and lore I have created from my imagination alone. One of the challenges, however, is taking the lore & world build of someone else and making it dance to steps of my choosing when the music played is sour and off key. The endings in ME3 were stupid. All of them. I spent more time debating the ending choices, trying to figure out what I had possibly missed in the narrative of the game that would explain what was about to happen than I did my first ME1 play through deciding between Kaidan or Ashley. If I don't like it, I 'fix' it. Or 'fics' it, take your pick, lol.

So here is the ending with my Renegade Rache and my Renegade Kaidan.

Rache Shepard blinked the blood from her eyes trying to focus on the shimmering figure of the child, trying to understand the choices that had just be given to her. She wasn't sure if it was blood loss or pain that was causing the disconnect, the baffled incomprehension of what was being told to her by the child avatar…or maybe it was the scream of grief and denial she'd been keeping pent up inside ever since staggering past Kaidan's broken body because the mission still had to be completed.

Everything she had done was meaningless. Everything. The old feuds she had settled. The peace treaties she had brokered. The curing of the genophage. None of it mattered now. All of the deaths…Thane, Mordin, Vega…Gods, Anderson. Kaidan. Nothing mattered.

She wanted to sit down. To just sit and be done and not move again ever because nothing that she had done had made a single bit of difference in the end. She even had a nice lightshow going on in the background. Look…more pretty fireworks from a Reaper laser as it hit that turian dreadnought and the ship began to break apart. How often did one see that?

A turian dreadnought that was only in orbit around earth because she had arranged for them to be here, dying so far from their homes and their loved ones.

"Control. Synthesis. Destroy." She closed her eyes, swaying slightly. "I came here to destroy the Reapers. That has been my goal from day one. But if I destroy them, I destroy the geth. I sacrificed the quarian race because those imbeciles couldn't understand the order to retreat every time I gave it to them and because I thought the geth would have a greater tactical advantage in this war. If I destroy the reapers and the geth the deaths…the sacrifice of the quarian race will have meant nothing. No." She shook her head but stopped quickly as dizziness stole over her.

As if too solidify her position she turned from the path leading to the destroy functions and faced straight ahead.

"Synthesis. A melding of organic and non-organic. Sounds nice and easy…until you start looking closer. It would be me choosing for all life everywhere. Me playing God and determining the fate of all those around me. Human. Turian. Asari. Geth. Even batarian. Plants, bugs, everything. A solution so that organic and in-organic can be forced to live together in peace." She looked into the skyline once more, searching the battlefield claiming far too many allied species and far too few Reapers.

There, that was what she was looking for. Silent she watched as the geth ships placed themselves between the Reapers deadly beams and the more vulnerable smaller Alliance ships.

"Yes, clearly synthetic life forms care nothing for organic and we need to force everyone to become the same so they can learn to live together in peace and harmony. Peace through mediocrity rather than strength through diversity. Great choice." She drawled with heavy sarcasm. "So the reason I can't outright destroy the Reapers is the same as why Synthesis is invalid for me. The geth. Ironic, when you think about it. I spent a lot of my first months as a spectre killing geth…now I count them as allies. I don't screw over my allies. Not when they're dying because I asked them to." The words were harsh.

"There are other…" The child avatar began.

"Shut up." Rache snarled at him. "I've had more than enough out of you. Keep it up and I'll unleash a singularity on your ass just so I feel better." Of course using what little energy she had left was more than likely to leave her bleeding to death on the floor.

The avatar wisely said nothing.

"So. Control." She faced the control port, trying once more to get the blood out of her eyes. The left was having a particularly bad time and she wasn't sure how secure the eyeball was in the socket. "My whole life has been about control. About having power so that I control the outcome of events. About making circumstances go the way I want because that is the only acceptable option for me. Should be an easy pick, right?"

"The Illusive Man…"

"Shut up. Research the word 'rhetorical'. In silence." Rache snapped at it again before limping toward the blue option. "Control enslaves the Reapers. Forces them to do what I want. If I want them dancing a can-can chorus line while singing my praises, I can. Control enslaves them."

The avatar said nothing this time.

"When I was sixteen years old slavers raided my home. They killed or captured everyone they could get their hands on." Rache's lips curled, her eyes narrowed as she stared at the rods glowing before her. "I loathe slavers more than anything else in my life. And the least crappy solution is the one where I become one. Fuck you, Fate. And your little dog, too."

Weary, in pain, and oh, so tired, she listed to one side, her eyes closing as she tried to think, tried to make sense of what was being asked of her. What would Kaidan do?

Not a damn thing because he was dead.

Images of his body on the ground flickered through her mind's eye once more and her shoulders slumped even more. What did it matter then? Time to give death a second chance and see if this time she stayed dead.

Reaching out, Rache wrapped both hands about the rods…and felt her sanity implode.

Time lost all meaning as information rushed at her faster than the rudimentary speed of her natural brain's processes. Compensation was made. Modifications. Organic became more synthetic and comprehension began to sort order from chaos as the impressions of a myriad of reapers became clear and understood.

"Cease." The thought was all that was needed since she was no longer bound by the former limits of her mostly organic physical body and had ascended to a higher platform.

"Why?" They demanded of her, showing their victory, Harbinger's voice the loudest as it used sensors to scan the rubble strewn ground in London, showing her the fruits of its harvest.

There had been a reason why they needed to stop…it had been a good reason, too. A reason that seemed to no longer matter…as if it had belonged to an insignificant mind now being made aware of its own potential greatness.

"We will continue as we always have." Harbinger persisted as its scanner touched the corpses laying so close to the teleportation conduit.

Kaidan breathed.

"Kaidan!" She shrieked wordlessly, her mind pulling herself from their consensus, demanding her own individuality take the forefront.

He was alive.

"Its biotic potential makes it ideal for indoctrination." Harbinger intoned sensing her interest. "Simple repairs to its rudimentary form are required."

"Complete repairs." Rache ordered and immediately Kaidan's DNA patterns began to flash through her consciousness.

Information from Reaper archives began to make themselves known suggesting genetic manipulation. Paths that would make the subject a more effective agent of the Reapers. Without thought she made simple adjustments, tweaking, tossing aside the tech implanted in him as organic nodes were refined giving him needed biotic boosts and control.

"Begin indoctrination proto…" Harbinger began.

"No!" Rache countered. "There is another beside him. Modifications are required." Her senses took in the badly beaten form of James Vega and began once again to tweak, to refine.

"Begin indoctrination…" Harbinger tried again.

"Denied." Rache began to pull her own mind further from the overwhelming influence of those she was directly in contact with. "Report status."

From across the galaxy information poured through her about the state of the harvest. Areas that had been completed. Areas that were showing resistance. Projected targets to harvest next.

"Denied." Rache's thoughts began only to have the consciousness of those she sought to control try to fight back.

The harvest must be concluded, millions of voices called out to her. The pattern must be continued…already a rudimentary species was being marked as having potential for the next cycle.

"Denied!" She rasped again and began to feel the power in the crucible build, preparing to fire.

The relays would be destroyed. She couldn't stop that even as the reaper thoughts she was in collusion with began relaying probabilities to her of the survival rate of those they were harvesting.

Thessia…complete. No viable remnants remain free of indoctrination.

Palaven…in process. Planet harvest/subjugation 72 percent complete.

Sur'Kesh…in process. Planet harvest/subjugation 53 percent complete.

Earth…in process. Planet harvest/subjugation 89 percent complete. Orbital scan indicates viable races for harvest and repurposing in significant numbers. Indoctrination of lesser organics proposed. Agents could then sabotage various spacecraft leaving them open to additional harvesting.

"Denied." Rache pulled together the tattered strings of her sense of self and began to jerk them close. Information flooded her thoughts. Simply comprehending the basics of what was being burned through her mind drove her to the brink of sanity but she was learning just how insignificant their attempts at fighting the Reapers had been.

Even fighting back had been part of the program of the cycle. Humans had not been the first to try it and unless her will prevailed, they would not be the last.

To protect the future, the mass relays had to be destroyed. Being forced to create their own solutions for technological advancements would prevent the sole dependence on Reaper technology and prevent the Reapers from controlling the cycle. Or starting it all over again.

Destroying the mass relays gave the future hope…but only if the various species survived.

Programs answered her demands and Rache ran hypothetical paths of reconstruction based on the current time reports the Reapers flooded her with.

Thessia…no viability. Asari on various outlying colonies would propagate the race.

Palaven…viable. Success parameters increased if fleets in orbit around Earth were returned. Transportation protocols via teleportation of ground troops to life sustaining space craft and then to mass relays implemented.

Sur'Kesh…viable. Success parameters indicate planet/species levels sufficient for propagation. Earth…viability diminished. Indoctrination protocols, harvest levels leave remnant population diminished. Alternate probabilities for human propagation required.

Proposed: repurpose Reaper hardshells into liveships capable of carrying survivors in species sustainable numbers.

The part of Rache that remembered being human revolted violently.

"Proposal rejected." She whispered and could feel the buildup of power in the crucible. "Alternate paths required."

Proposed: restructure of human forms to adapt to baseline inorganic needs reducing the demand on limited natural resources.

The surge was growing, the power pulling in on itself, demanding an outlet, a purpose.

"Proposal rejected!" Rache managed the thoughts, trying to contain the energy, to control it. "Alternate paths required!"

Proposed: smaller numbers of genetically diverse human survivors placed on resource rich planets capable of sustaining and propagating the species.

She had to hold on, to maintain control just a bit longer. She had to give the human race a fighting chance. "List resource rich planets acceptable to human propagation parameters."

Information spun through her mind, faster than a human could comprehend but Rache was no longer just human. She wasn't even sure she was human. Or had been since Cerberus rebuilt her. Hell, maybe she wasn't even Shepard anymore. Just a very clever AI capable of mimicking and predicting what the real and inconveniently dead Rache Shepard would do or say in any given situation. A better built version of the abomination she'd seen among the refugees.

Part of her, the part that still thought of itself as an individual, as human, denied the thought she was anything but real.

"You're real enough to me." Kaidan's words. Kaidan's confidence. Kaidan's faith.

"Destination selected." She picked a planet lush with green life and no native sentient species. "New instructions supersede all other commands."

"Selection of genetically diverse human survivors has begun. Transference of required individuals to life sustaining space craft has begun. Space craft transference via Sol relay has begun. Requesting further instruction."

She could feel the last of her consciousness going, her body literally being pulled apart as the beam began to break free of her control and pain began to splinter her sanity leaving only fragments of self identity remaining.

"Final instructions accepted."