I'm baaaaaaaaaaack! Guess who's back... back again... Del is back... tell a friend! Yeah! Now, I'm not going to lie, but I'm freaking excited! Weeeee! The sequel is here! I'm so excited! I almost forgot how awesome it is to write original content, and considering it's exactly what I'm planning to fill the sequel with. Yep. 2 years, filled with pretty much original content, and that makes me feel giddy. I love writing original stuff, and from what people told me, they like it to, since they loved the beginning of the story, which had tons of it.

Anyway... yes, this is the sequel! I'm not going to tell you what's going to happen... because that would be cheating. You'll have to read through the whole story like everyone else. But... I'll give you a quick taste right here. I personally adore this particular... writing technique. So without any more delays, you've waited long enough as it is, enjoy the story!

Я умираю, но не сдаюсь - Unknown

I lean on the wall, well, more like crash against it and stop there for a moment to catch my breath. Breathing is painful. Walking is painful. Existing is painful. I have no idea how I'm even standing at this point. With a groan I push myself off the wall and proceed to drag my sorry ass further down the corridor to my destination. Every second step makes me wince in pain. By the nine hells, I don't think I've been injured like this since the battle against Sovereign. Not sure if it's a good or bad thing. I'll go with bad, since pain is generally not good.

I finally step into the room. Looks like a control room, with all the buttons, levers and screens that are filled in this place. Large windows are all around the place, giving a good view of something that looks like a large generator. I'm kinda weirded out by the fact that it's all physical buttons. I'm so used to using holographic interfaces that I'm feeling a bit lost looking at all these things. Then again, this base is old. Older than I am. Okay, enough thinking. I need to finish my work. I look around, trying to find something that would look like it would restore complete power to this place. My eyes eventually land on a big lever, which has 'power' written on it with faded letters. I stare at it for a few seconds, wondering why they would make it so obvious, and why of all things they would use a lever, and not a big red button or something, and limp my way over to it.

Instinctively I reach with my right hand but I stop myself in time, lowering my injured forearm, minding the knife strapped to it via duct tape. Ah, duct tape, even centuries into the future you are still the most versatile thing known to mankind. I'm pretty sure that nearly every single bone in my right hand has been shattered, so I strapped my knife to it so I'll have some use for it. Better a weapon than dead weight. Not to mention the fact that I can't be disarmed now. They'll have to break my arm now. Thinking of injuries... let's see... I wince slightly as I check my physical state. Four broken ribs, my shoulder hurts from being dislocated, my legs really hurt, though the left one hurts even more from two gunshot wounds, many bruises and cuts all over my body and I haven't slept in nearly three days. I'm not counting the four hours of unconsciousness I've had, because the time before and after those hours was most definitely not fun. The best part? My medigel supply ran out several hours ago. I know for a fact that the only thing that is keeping me in working condition is the three doses of almost-illegal battle-stims I'm running on, though I really hope the warnings of organ-failure were just a way to scare the users not to abuse the substance.

I finally reach the lever and I can't help but stare at it a little. This little thing just might change the face of the galaxy. This piece of plastic and metal can change everything. Possibly for the better. Quite possibly for the worse. The responsibility that might come with pulling this level down... is frightening, to say the least. But I'm going to pull it down. I want to, need to know why all these people died. Why she died for this. I can find out only by pulling this thing down. I'm too involved in this to back down now. I place my uninjured left hand on the lever...

…the sound of an unfolding handgun behind me causes me to freeze. I don't need to look to know who it is. After all, we're been tearing each other apart through the past week. "Remove your hand," came the flanging voice, only confirming my suspicion.

"No," I say flatly. "You'll only shoot me," I will not remove my hand. Not a chance. The lack of response only confirms my words. He will shoot me once I remove my hand. Slowly, I turn around to look at the turian, then at the weapon aimed at my face. "Your brother says Hi,"

Yeah, good idea! Antagonize the one aiming the weapon at you! His mandibles twitch slightly and his eyes narrow. Yeah, struck a nerve there, that's for sure. "You killed him," he says, not asks. He a bit too calm for my tastes, but whatever.

"Self-defense," I say with a half-hearted shrug. "And he was an asshole, you know that."

"He was still my brother," he turian replies. "Now, I will not repeat myself. Remove your hand and step away."

"You know I can't do that," I refuse to give him any kind of power over me. Once I let go, he can do whatever he wants, and I'm not going to let that happen. I know that I am essentially screwed in this situation. I'm exhausted and injured. He's in fine health and relatively rested. He has a gun pointed at me, I can't reach mine because my only usable hand is resting on the only thing keeping me alive, not to mention my pistol is holstered on my right hip.

"I can't let you go either. You're too involved in this now. You should've listened to her and backed off. Maybe then no one would've suffered."

I bark out a humorless laugh at that. "Except six innocent people who you still murdered, by the way. No, I will not remove my hand." If it comes down to a fight, I'm pretty sure that my injured leg and aching body would work properly. The adrenaline and endorphins will make sure of that, not to mention the stims.

He allows some frustration to enter his voice. "They were not innocent! By now you know what they did. You know what they worked on! Do you even have any idea what you're going to do? What will happen once you pull that lever? Only for some bit of money?!"

I mull over the question. "Mostly, yeah," I say with the same nonchalance. "And it's not about the money. Not anymore," they asked me, begged me to stop him, and I made a promise that I will. Too many people died, too many for me to just turn around and walk away.

This only seems to enrage him further. "Then you know that you cannot do this! If you pull that lever down, everything will end. You will doom the entire galaxy!"

I fight down the urge to laugh at that. If you only knew... no, if you only believed, you would've known that the galaxy has been doomed since... since eons ago. I doubt another galactic apocalypse will change much in the grand scheme of things. The Reapers will come regardless, unless the whole galaxy will spontaneously explode, which won't happen anytime soon. "You can't be sure of that," I counter.

"You can't be sure of that too," the turian counters my counter. He's right. I'm not entirely sure either. Indeed, I might be responsible for the early end of everyone in the galaxy. Of course, I might be wrong about that too, like I've been wrong on many occasions before. "You will be signing everyone's death. You will kill billions."

I don't reply at first. I simply look at him evenly. I can't change his mind, that's for sure. There are no paragon or renegade points to help me out here. Whether I'll be dooming the galaxy or not, with him here, chances of getting out alive are slim. So... it simply doesn't matter. "Then so be it," I finally say, not bothering to roll my eyes or shrug to show him how much I'm sure he's wrong.

His eyes widen at those words, as if he's finally realizing that no, I'm not going to back off. "You're insane," he spits out with frustration and disbelief.

These words finally break me. I laugh. Genuine, loud laughter. Oh, how ironic that of all people, he's the one saying that, mirroring the words I spoke not a couple of days earlier. And hell, maybe he's right. Maybe I am insane. Who knows? I shake my head at the absurdity of finding humor in this situation. I look back at the turian. "Gotta ask. Have your brother ever told you the human definition of insanity?" I ask, receiving some sick pleasure from the fact that anger came back to his face. He's furious, and that makes me happy.

I have to wonder how things went so wrong. I mean, I just planned on sitting down these two years, quietly prepare and then rejoin Shepard once she comes back. Then again, nothing goes as you planned it, that much I learned personally. Still, I have to ask myself at which point things have gone this wrong.

The turian opens his mouth to snap at me, but I don't let him.

I pull the lever.

One year, two months earlier

The smoke burns down as I inhale it into my lungs, leaving a rather disgusting aftertaste in it's wake. Pretty fitting if you ask me. I'm pretty disgusted with myself as it is. I look out into the Presidium, where people are milling about, going about their business, as if the whole place wasn't under attack and in ruins barely two months ago. So quickly they went back to their regular lives, as if nothing happened. As if nothing is going to happen. Idiots. The whole lot of them. I take another drag.

It was Thursday.

I fucking hate Thursdays.

"Uh, sir?" I hear from behind me, a feminine voice filled with hesitation. I turn my head to the good side, where I'll be able to see the speaker. Once I do that, I can see that it's one of the nurses, Susan I think. Not really sure. Never bothered to learn her name, just that she's usually very shy around me. Garrus joked that she fancies me, but I ignored him back then. Then again, it might be true. She's an unassuming little thing, shorter than me by at least a head – I'm shocked to learn that it's possible to be any shorter than me – shoulder length light brown hair, brown eyes and pale skin. Well, usually pale. Right now it's more of a pink tint, which is obviously a blush, as if she's embarrassed to talk to me. "It's, uh, you're not allowed to smoke here," she says to me gently. Hm, Garrus might be right. I did catch some of the nurses giving me some curious looks of the interested kind. Probably because I'm one of the heroes of the Citadel or something. Despite how unusual it is for me to even receive these looks, I'm not interested at the moment. Got other things on my mind.

I look around and I don't see any sign telling me not to smoke. Probably because almost no one smokes here, for some unexplained reason. I look back at her, noting that she looks even more uncomfortable than before. "Dully noted," I finally say, taking another drag and going back to stare out of the window. I hear her still standing behind me, probably waiting for me to get rid of the smoke stick. I take another long drag, just to make a point. After another minute it seems that she finally gets the message and leaves with an indignant huff.

I have too much on my mind to care about something so dull and... meaningless.

My name is Alex and I'm, for a lack of a better word, an extra-dimensional traveler. Or more accurately, and extra-dimensional kidnapping victim. Almost a year ago, the asshat that goes by the name of The Chairman essentially kidnapped me one morning and dumped me into the Mass Effect universe, which is, for the record, simply a video game back home. I have no idea why he brought me here, and he simply told me to join Shepard and that I should not change anything.

Which brings me to my current line of thought. Why the fuck am I even doing here? I joined Shepard's crew, we kicked ass across the galaxy and we saved the Citadel from Sovereign. But... what was the point of me being there? It would've happened regardless, and in fact, I've made things even worse in some places. Kaidan is dead, and Ashley is crippled, the latter of which would've never happened had I not been there. Most importantly, Shepard is still dead, this time through my inaction.

So... why am I here? What is his plan? What is the goddamn point? Sadly, the view out of the window isn't giving me any answers.

I put out the cigarette on the windowsill and take out another one. I can't stay locked up in that room at the moment. Not to mention that I don't want the smell of smoke in it. Which is why I'm out here in one of the hospital corridors. And it is good training, I have to admit. My crutches are placed against the wall and I can stand on my own. Can't say the same about walking without them, but I'm getting there. Then again, I lost count of how many times I've stumbled to the floor, so I have no idea when I'm going to get there.

"Well, well, look who've decided to finally grace me with his presence," a very, very familiar voice suddenly says, causing me to both cringe and perk up in recognition. Since it came from my right side, which is still, much to my annoyance, blind, I have to fully turn and face the speaker.

Ashley Williams is in front of me, looking more than a bit offended as she sits in her wheelchair. She's wearing a hospital gown and her hair is down, which is a surprise. I haven't seen her with her hair like this, other than the third game trailers back home, which was a year ago, so its a bit unusual for me. Hell, I'll go out of my way and admit that it makes her look quite hot. "Hey Ash," I say, silently cringing to myself. Why shouldn't I be uncomfortable around her? After all, I've been actively avoiding her for the past month.

"Hey yourself," she snaps at me, with good reason. "Everyone tells me we're in the same hospital, on the same floor actually, and I don't hear a damn word from you for nearly two months!"

I almost wince at her every word. "In my defense, I've been unconscious for the better part of the first month," I put up a flimsy defense at best, but I really have no excuse. Ash knows it too, and her glare shatters whatever defense I could put up. I know exactly why I didn't even send her a message, not to mention actually visit her.

Because I feel guilty, that's why.

No use in denying it – not to say that I didn't try – because that's exactly the reason. Like me, Ashley suffered a spine injury. And she needs exactly the same surgery that I went through. I was wounded quite a time later than she did, but here I am, able to stand on my two feet, and here she is... in her wheelchair, unable to stand. I got moved up the waiting list, thus making her wait longer for the surgery. I'm the reason why she got the injury in the first place, suffered pretty much the same injury she did... and here I am, able to walk again, while she can't.

"Hey, Scarface, are you there?" the voice of Ashley snaps me out of my thoughts.

I frown a bit at the new nickname, but simply sigh. "Sorry," I have nothing else to say other than that. I've got no excuse. "I just had... stuff to occupy me. Sorry I never visited or anything..." Yeah, been to busy dwelling in self-misery and disgust with myself, if you can call it stuff to occupy myself with.

"Not good enough, Eye-patch," she says with a smirk and a shake of her head. Another nickname? Wow, I hope they don't stick, because if I get a nickname, I hope it will be original at the very least. Or cool. "You own me one. You're going to make it up for me, because you have no idea how boring it is here when you can barely move. And I had no idea you smoked..." she notes, face wrinkling in obvious disapproval.

I can't help but smile slightly at that. I definitely know how boring it can get. I take a pull of the almost forgotten cigarette. "I don't. I just take a few drags when I have too much on my mind. How are you?" I change the subject, gesturing at the wheelchair to let her know what I'm asking about.

"That?" she asks, tapping the wheelchair. "Well, for one, I can finally sit," she says with some excitement. Probably because it is something exciting for her. "It's true what they say, you know. That you take things for granted until they're gone. I couldn't sit for a month, and it was torture!" she exclaims with a grimace, as if remembering some very, very awful thing.

"So... when is the surgery?" I finally ask with an amused smile.

"In a couple of months," she replies.

"Is it... is it safe for you? I mean, is it safe to sit like this? It's a broken back after all," I ask with some concern. I have no idea what you do with spinal injuries, but I'm pretty sure one should not be sitting. My back and legs are killing me from standing around for too long, so I can't imagine how it is for her.

"Oh no, doctors said it's fine. Most of the damage is fixed, now I just need the implants to make my lower half work properly again," Ah, yes, the implants. Got them myself. Essentially super-high-tech implants that are used to reconnect the nerves and the spine itself to return it to working condition. It has a lot more to it than that, but I admit that when the doctors explained it to me, I missed almost half of it through all the medical and scientific jargon they were throwing at me at the time. "What about you? From what I hear you were halfway dead,"

"Eh, I was. But I got better," I say, smiling to myself. I always wanted to have a reason to say that, though it doesn't have the same effect, I guess. I show her my arms, which now lack my tattoos, and hair. Also very pale, I must add. Same thing's with my chest too. "Got some new skin, new implants and a new eye," I tap the eye-patch I'm wearing, which should be removed today. Can't wait to see how I... see. "Overall, lucky to be alive."

She lets out an impressed whistle. "Damn. Now that makes me wish I was there even more. I owed him a bullet to the head for what he did," she mutters, her hand reaching to her chest, where Saren shot her. "Still, good to know you got back up after that. Not many can do that."

My smile falters at that. Yeah, you can't, for example. At least, not at the moment. "Well, you'll be glad to hear that I did put a shot through his skull in your name," I add with a smirk, glad to see that it made her look a lot more happy, considering the subject.

"Thanks! Anyway," Ashley continues. "It's pretty boring here now, though I hope that you will drop by once in a while now that you can walk. Garrus visited me a couple of times, but with most of C-Sec not knowing what to do with themselves after the invasion, he's too busy and with everyone else going off to do their thing..."

Another subject that kept making me a bit... depressed. With Saren gone, everyone just... drifted apart. It's a bit surreal for me that after all the things we've done and been through, all of us just go on to do our own thing. Hell, even Riley disappeared! I decided to check out her well-being once I learned we were in the same hospital, but to my surprise I heard that she was released already. Thankfully, she was released after Shepard left, so I'm pretty sure she was not on the Normandy when it was attacked. Which happened two weeks ago. Speaking of the Normandy...

"You got the message," I say. It's not a question. More of a statement, really. I'm sure that she got one, being a member of the crew and all.

Ash joins me in staring out of the window. "Yeah..." she says quietly.

It's been almost two weeks.. Two freaking weeks. Thirteen days where no one said a word. Nothing on the news. Nothing on the extranet. No word from the Council. No word from the Alliance. I can immediately exclude the option that no one knows, because I'm pretty sure they do. Joker messaged me after they were already rescued by the Alliance, so there is absolutely no chance they don't know about it. Which means the Commander has been dead for longer than two weeks, depending on how fast Alliance ships got to the scene. Of course, that still doesn't answer my question: why the hell no one is saying anything?

"I'm going to see Anderson. Probably today. Maybe tomorrow," I say, deciding to share my plan. The only response I get from her is a raised eyebrow, which means I should elaborate. "I need to know why no one is saying a word. She's been dead for two weeks. I'd expect the media would've been all over it by now, but they're keeping it quiet. I'm going to ask for the reason," I explain with a small shrug.

I don't really know Anderson, well, more accurately Anderson doesn't know me, but it's pretty much the same thing as far as I'm concerned. I know that he cares about Shepard, but he's not inclined to answer any of my questions. I'm not Alliance, I don't belong to any legal group, really. The only thing in common we have is Shepard's mission, so... he can kick me out of his office if he wants, and I can't do a thing about it. If he doesn't want to tell me anything, he doesn't have to. Of course, I can already come up with some answers of my own, but I want to hear it from Anderson first.

Ashley snorts in a very unladylike manner. "That's pretty obvious, don't you think?" she remarks bitterly. "Politics," she spits out, showing her dislike to the practice.

Same conclusion I came to. The Alliance, or the Council, or both, are trying to milk Shepard's fame for all it's worth while they still can. Of course, then they're going to drag her name through the dirt simply because they're too afraid to see their perfect little world crumble, but that's not the time for that. "I guessed the same thing," I reply. "Still, I want to know just why Anderson is going along with this shit."

"Probably because he doesn't have a choice," Ash replies, disgust still evident in her tone. "They kicked him out of his own ship because of some backroom politic decisions, probably the same thing now."

That makes me grimace. Another reason why I hate politics. Sure, I can't complain about the decision, because Shepard got the Normandy out of it, but it's still a bit... harsh to take away his command like that. "Maybe. I'm still going to ask though. No one else is going answer, and I can't just wait until they finally decide to tell everyone what happened."

"I'd go with you, but..." she doesn't say anything, just gestures at the wheelchair. "Not to mention the doctors. They will probably sedate me if I try to escape again."

Again? I'm about to ask for details but I'm interrupted by someone clearing their throat. I turn around and see a man, a doctor to be precise, accompanied by the definitely apologetic looking nurse who bothered me a couple of minutes ago, Susan. "Sir, smoking is not allowed here. Please get rid of the cigarette and return to your room," he says, voice firm and unwavering. Well, it's not like I can run away from him or anything. With a roll of my eyes and a last pull from the cigarette I put it out on the windowsill, right on top of the last one and turn to Ashley.

"Well, I guess it's time for me to go. I'll drop by later, I guess," I say to her with a small smile.

"You owe me one, Scarface. I'll be waiting for that visit, and don't forget about it," she says as I grab my crutches and begin to walk away.

"Wouldn't think of it," I say, pausing to giving her a lazy salute.

Damn, walking with crutches is so annoying. Now, I just need to find Morrison so he'd remove this annoying eye-patch. Being unable to see one side of everything that's in front of you is quite aggravating. Not to mention that I actually want to see how my new prosthetic looks like.

Once I get that done... I'm going to have my little talk with Anderson.

Aaaand... that's it! For now. I hope you liked the beginning, just... a little bit of what's to come. Gives you something to look for, I guess. I honestly have no idea how long this story will be, possibly longer than the last, maybe a lot longer, but that doesn't matter. I'm going to have too much fun with this to even care.

Now... my main plans... so to say, goals I wish to achieve with this installment. The last story got, for lack of a better word, a shitload of reviews, hits and follows. Much more than I initially expected. With this installment, I hope to reach 1000 reviews, and to finally get this story a page on TV Tropes. Yeah, that's my personal goals for this story. Last story had over 9000 hits, this one has 1000 reviews and a page on TV tropes. So yeah, hopefully you'll help me get to these goals! Oh, and if anyone could make a story cover, I would be eternally grateful!

So yeah, for all of you who are reading this... to all those who came here from the last story, welcome back! To all the new ones (though I have no idea what you're doing here without reading the previous story) welcome aboard! So... let's get this show on the road! Next chapter should be ready in... who knows when! I'll get it done sooner or later! So thanks for reading, feel free to tell me your thoughts! Looking forward to see what you have to say!

Until next time, Delvaro out!