A/N: My thanks to Carleen for beta work on this story.

XXxxXX

Email Extract:

From: Admiral Steven Hackett
To: Commander Adam Shepard

Shepard,

Never had the chance to get you some new N7 equipment back on Earth. I've arranged for the N7 Long Range Incursion Mark II Armour to be delivered to the Normandy before supply lines get even less reliable than they are now. Have you and your team look for the armour next time you're suiting up for a mission.

Everything has been tailored to your needs.
Enhanced Fabricators
Omni-Tool Booster; Hephaestus-4 Software
BioAmp Interfaces
Upgraded eezo power core
Passive and active stealth modules
Ablative plates
Movement Enhancers - Power Exoskeleton
Thermal and LADAR Optics

Hackett

XXxxXX

Westminster, London, Earth

There was no banter, no talking, no laughter, just the eerie rumble of the engines and despairing radio chatter. What was there to say? This was it, the moment that would determine if the cycle should continue or be broken.

Commander Adam Winston Shepard didn't know what to say. He was never short on words, never short on ideas about how to inspire men and women in arms. But today, at this very moment, there was nothing – he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He had done the very best he could to pull everyone through this war, now it was time to see whether if it all paid off.

"We're coming up on the RV," the Mako driver said. "Good luck, boys and girls."

He felt the tank come to a halt and heard the locks hissing as the hatch opened. The sound of distant battle rushed in to greet him as he and his team climbed out. He had said his goodbyes to those who weren't here, a small part of him said that he wasn't going to be coming back.

Stepping out onto the cracked asphalt, he looked up at the clouded night sky and the obelisk of light standing in the centre of an open grave. That was where they would all be going, and on the other side, he could see Harbinger and his companions land.

"Check gear," Shepard ordered.

With the understanding, there would no thermal clips to scavenge the team carried long-range packs. Each man was carrying a variant of the Alliance SCAR-Mk1, an M11 Suppressor Sidearm and a Prothean Beam Rifle for good measure. The load out had served them well on numerous fronts, and hopefully it would do the same when they boarded the Citadel.

"I'm not going to lie, we're going to be running across a killing field here," Adam said. "Move quickly and keep the heat on the Reapers, and we'll pull through."

"Hopefully," James muttered.

"Good luck, everyone."

He walked to the base of the mound and crawled up the slope to where Major Coates and Admiral Anderson were. They had their focus on plotting the best way to get to the base of the node, but it looked hopeless.

"They're going to slaughter us out there," Coates said grimly.

"They all volunteered for this, let's make sure their sacrifices count," Anderson added with equal measure. "Adam, nice of you to join us, any ideas?"

Looking across the site with his blue eyes, Adam wondered if they could call in some kind of distraction. He knew the spiral was jamming targeting systems, but if the Normandy could act as a signal relay then they could call in thermobaric strikes to blind the Reapers – temporarily.

"Call in bombardment from firebases and ships, might buy us enough time to make the run."

"But the Spiral," Coates gestured.

"I'll get Normandy in to help boost the signal."

Turning to his men, Coates gestured for the ETACs to call in fire support with their laser designator.

"Normandy, this is Shepard," Adam broadcasted. "I need you to come in as a signal booster, do you copy?"

"Copy that Commander," Joker answered.

He could hear the anguish and fret in the pilot's voice. Jeff always knew the gravity of the situation, more than he let on.

Moving back to his team, Shepard awaited the final go.

"All battle group elements, advance on the spiral. I repeat, advance on the spiral. Good luck everyone," Anderson channelled.

"Let's go! Let's go!" soldiers bellowed.

The men and women roared out of the ruins of London and onto open ground. Tanks thundered in front, kicking up dirt in their wake. Reaper ground units emerged from the crevices in the ground and counter charged the assault force. Despite their numbers, they fell quickly to the onslaught of artillery.

"Target the Reapers," Shepard ordered.

The Normandy flew onto the field and boosted the signal up to available fleet units. Joker threw the ship into a merciless spiral to avoid Reaper fire. Heavy artillery shells and missiles strikes zeroed in on the Sovereign-class ships. Firestorms rolled across their hulls, hazing their sensors. It bought the assault teams some precious reprieve, but it still wasn't enough. Soldiers left, right and burned to nothingness as a crimson washed over them.

"Shepard. Incoming!" Kaidan shouted.

Looking left, he saw a lance strike his team. Instinctively, he rolled to the out of the targeting course, and saw the external suit thermometer skyrocket.

"Shit," he cursed.

Rushing over to his wounded cadre, he checked their vitals via HUD biometrics. They were still conscious, but it looked like none of them would be able to walk any time soon.

"Normandy, come in!" Shepard barked. "I need you to come in and pick up the wounded."

"Copy that, Commander," Joker answered.

The stealth frigate stopped its gun runs and hovered over the field. The main hangar doors opened, and Marines poured out to collect the injured.

Grabbing a hold of Kaidan, Adam slung his oldest friend's arm over his shoulders and hauled him to the safety of the ship.

"Commander, I can still fight," he breathed.

"Don't argue with me, you're hurt badly…"

"Shepard, don't do this," Kaidan pleaded, clutching his bleeding side.

"You're going to be okay," Shepard said, ignoring him. "Normandy is yours, take good care of her."

Placing Alenko down onto the deck with infinite care, the Commander took a step back and took one last look at his team.

"Dammit Adam!"

Assured that his team was all on board, he descended the ramp in a full sprint. Running past injured soldiers falling back to the ship, the Spectre gave a man a pat on the shoulder as a sign of reassurance and hope.

"Wave off Normandy… get them out of here, Joker," Shepard broadcasted.

"NO!" Jeff cried.

"DO IT! That's an order. Keep them safe."

The pilot offered no reply, just a saddened silence.

"It's been an honour, Shepard."

"Likewise, good luck."

He could hear the Normandy's engine whine as it soared overhead. Adam knew that it would be a long time – if ever – before he would see her again. His chest relaxed, and he felt a cold yet strangely welcoming hand settle on his shoulder.

The end of a journey.

Riding a stream of sapphire light, Adam leapt across the battlefield, jumping from cannibal to cannibal. His PBR spewed out ghostly death as it dissolved his enemies to paste. He fired in sustained burst for full effect. This time, he was going to make it count, this time, he was going to end it.

He dug his armoured boots into the ground, and came to a halt at an overturned tank. Admiral Anderson was barking orders for the surviving gunners to provide cover fire.

"Shepard, didn't anyone else make it?" he asked, though knowing the grim answer.

'They got hit," Adam answered. "Ordered the Normandy to pull them out."

"Then let's finish this!"

Shepard, like the sentinel and a born leader took charge toe the spire. He was the shield and support. Charging across the field, his boots dug into the scorched Earth. Calling in fire support had been a good move; it distracted the Reapers enough so that people could make it to the eerie column.

But it wasn't enough, soldiers kept on dying by the dozens. By the time he and Anderson had reached the spire, no one else was left standing.

"Here goes nothing," Adam muttered.

Taking in a deep breath, he stepped into the light.

…

He felt his skin tingle as a mercury feeling flooded him, like a cold metallic sensation coursing through his veins. His eyes were filled with an abyss of white, until it faded and was replaced by the sight of red.

The room was not what he had expected. It was totally unguarded, but the piles of bodies and the dull red lights sent chills down his spine.

"God, that smell," Anderson coughed. "Come on, we've got to get to the control room."

Adam was thankful that he had his helmet and air filters on.

Following along the path, Shepard kept his rifle raised and sightlines clear. No telling when a husk might jump him. Looking at the rows of corpses, he saw the bodies haphazardly stacked atop one another like a pile of timber. Most were still wearing what they had when the Reapers attacked. Most were civilians going about their daily routines; some were soldiers and law enforcement. But it didn't matter who those people were, the Reapers didn't care. Down at the most basic level, all humans were virtually the same.

"Only monsters would do this," David growled.

"The Reapers have no morals," Adam added.

Stepping out of the morgue, Shepard breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe if he had initiated the assault to take Earth sooner, then maybe there wouldn't have been that many bodies inside or passing through that room. Adam couldn't really answer that question, the sight of men, women and children thrown on a pile still clawed at his mind.

Walking across the walkway as fast as Anderson's injuries would allow them too, Shepard gazed across the chasm which eerily reminded him of the Shadow Broker's ship. The massive panels of energy cells rotated in and out of the sockets, discharging arcs of electricity onto other panels.

The ludicrously long flights of stairs up into the Command Centre made the flight of stairs into the Illusive Man's office of Cronus station seem reasonable.

Upon reaching the room, orange lights flooded Shepard's vision as he looked out onto the Citadel. The enclosed station's lights scrolled across the wards like an intricate pattern, some reminding him of Prothean ruins.

The greatest trick the Reapers have done, is making this cycle believe that we are the makers of the Relays and the Citadel, Adam remembered Javik saying.

Seeing the command console near the windows, the two Alliance Officers interfaced with the panel and pulled up the security controls.

"Shepard, the console requires dual commands," Anderson said. "On my mar…"

Gunshot.

David keeled over and slammed into the console, a bullet digging into his lower back. Shepard whipped around, just as a modified round overloaded his shields. A small sense of satisfaction filled him when he found that The Illusive Man was on the receiving end of his pistol. Without hesitation he squeezed the trigger and watched the heavy round of the M-11 rip through Little Timmy's shoulder.

The Cerberus Leader crashed to the ground, clutching his wound. Shepard looked at the half-cybernetic man with disgust, before rushing over to Anderson.

"I'm good," David wheezed.

Adam quickly applied a salve of Medi-gel onto the wound to stave off shock and blood loss. He then returned to the console and activated the opening controls.

"On my go," Shepard said. "Three, two, one, go."

Both men turned the nodes. The panel pulsed and a slight shudder could be felt as the arms parted, revealing the tumultuous naval battle. Fighters were locked in a vicious game, while ships exchanged laser fire, kinetic attacks and missiles. Hundreds of debris in orbit belonged to the Reapers, but an even greater number belonged to the allied Armada.

Turning around to face the Illusive Man, Shepard knelt beside him and looked him straight in the eye.

"Why? After all this?" Adam growled. "You knew the risks. You knew about indoctrination. But you still played with Reaper tech. YOU'RE FUCKING INDOCTRINATED!"

"You can't reason with a Reaper pawn, Shepard."

Before venturing into the Collector Base, Shepard had a cold and grudging respect for the Illusive Man. But seeing the brutal experiments that went unchecked, and reading the orders he'd given to Cerberus soldiers – that respect withered and died.

"We needed to evolve, otherwise we'd die. We must harness the Reaper's power…"

"Bullshit!" Adam argued. "They've had millions of years to adapt. Millions! You're just one man, we're just one species. They've killed millions of races. Their masters couldn't control them. What makes you think you could? They control you!"

"I wish you could see it Shepard, everything… perfect. That's what I wanted for humanity."

Adam sighed, shaking his head and pulling himself up.

"Look, the Crucible is docking," Anderson gestured.

Shepard could see the core dock beneath the control tower while arms locked into place. Flickering his eyes over to the console, he could see the Crucible and the Citadel's systems perform a successful synchronisation.

"Shepard, there Crucible is not firing. It must be something on your end," Hackett's voice crackled.

"Copy, we're on it."

Just as the comm channel was terminated, a cloud of white spiralled into a small humanoid form. A boy, the very same he had tried to save at Vancouver.

"I am the Catalyst," he said. His voice was that of a child, but with a man and a woman echoing him. "Follow me."

Not wanting to take any risks, Shepard decided to drag the Illusive Man with him. Anderson grabbed the other arm, and hauled the Head of Cerberus onto the platform. The panel carried them up to a higher level, where a blue glow dominated one-half of the room, and red on the other side.

The place commanded a 360 view of the cosmos around them.

"What is this place?" Shepard asked.

"This is where you will choose," the AI said.

"Choose what?"

"The fate of this cycle. To your left is destruction of the Reapers, but then the uprising of the machines will happen again. To your right is to control the Reapers, but you must sacrifice your form to do so…"

Shepard looked down at the Illusive Man and shook his head.

"He cannot," the AI, pointed. "He is already within our thralls."

"Is there another solution?"

"Yes," the Catalyst nodded, gesturing to the centre. "Commit a live form to the beam, and you can create a new hybrid race of synthetics and organics amongst those whom already exist."

There was the solution for a new future, a new hope. A smile spread across Adam's lips.

"Shepard, send me into it… the beam," the Illusive Man whispered. "Let me do this one last thing for humanity."

Adam looked at Anderson, whom returned with a nod.

"It makes no difference," the Catalyst said.

Slowly they hauled the Illusive Man to the ledge, and of his own accord, the Head of Cerberus leapt into the beam, changing it emerald.

"Commander, whatever you've done has worked. The Crucible is firing."

The column of light increased in intensity and pulsed stronger. A loud whine and screech of metal rocked through the room. Huge chunks of debris fell and crashed through the catwalks. High voltage wiring was severed and sent sparks flying.

"Dammit, this place is falling apart!" Anderson cried.

"We gotta move," Adam beckoned as he sprinted back.

But having barely taken a few steps, he felt an unseen force pluck him from the ground and flung across the room. An emerald light filled his vision… until blackness greeted him.

XXxxXX

Unknown location

"Out of those seats, kids. We're almost at the LZ. It's gonna be hot. LT, what are we getting into?" a female Sergeant asked.

The Marines unbuckled their harnesses and stood up, checking equipment and preparing themselves to hit the ground running.

"Evac at South Farthing is under heavy attack, we're gonna deploy along the west perimeter and…"

A bullet pierced the Kodiak canopy. Air rushed through the opening, filling the cabin with roar of the coughing engines.

"I'm losing altitude control!" the pilot yelled. "Ventral thrusters offline!"

The transport plummeted through the air, spiralling out of control. The passengers were at the mercy of freefall in the flying brick. The deck fell out from underneath Adam, and the ceiling slammed into his helmet. One of his men crashed into him, sending both of them tumbling into Ellis.

Shepard's world slowed to a crawl as adrenaline flooded his veins. He could see tracer rounds rip through the compartment, narrowly avoiding his men. Luck could only hold out so long until the first mist of blood washed over the hold.

He could hear them scream over the COM as bullets pierced flesh. Men flailing and thrashing to protect themselves, became like ragdolls at the mercy of a child.

Slamming into the cockpit door, Shepard felt his lungs emptying. Metal screeched as the floor rushed up to greet him and the Kodiak come to a bone jarring halt.

The world kept on spinning as Adam's head throbbed in the darkness.

"Shepard!" his NCO cried. "Shepard, you've gotta get up!"

"Maria?" Shepard murmured.

"Come on, Adam!"

Raising an arm in front of him, he drew in breath. His eyes were darting back and forth like a rattle. Everything was so eerily quiet, no fires, no sparks, no radio chatter, just the howling winds. Looking to his right, Shepard found a column resembling Prothean technology, hissing with exhaust and crackling with sparks.

Sergeant Major Maria Ellis wasn't there. He knew she wasn't there, he had desperately hoped to see her again. But she wasn't there, she was long gone.

Rolling onto his chest, he placed his hand onto the stone floor.

Stone… why is it stone?

There shouldn't be stone slabs; there should be twisted metal and wires. Instead, Adam found himself in a large cavernous hall, laced with glowing crimson vines leaching onto the stone. It looked like something out of a fantasy novel.

If this was the afterlife, then life had a sick sense of humour. But he knew he wasn't dead. That small voice of reason within him began to scream combat orders at him.

Training began to kick in as Shepard moved out of the open and jogged towards the Prothean spike.

Systems check.

He had to run through his armour diagnostics. Interfacing the controls via Omni-tool, Adam brought up the readout onto his HUD. Everything seemed to be in working order, nothing was breached or compromised. He had expected something to be horribly wrong – armour wise – after having fallen into the beam.

No, something has to be wrong. It can't be all green.

Tech fails, eyes don't.

Running his gauntleted hands over his armour, Adam quickly furrowed for any damages. Nothing. Like most Sentinels, Shepard carried a kinetic barrier, tech armour and provided his own biotic barriers. His bleeding-edge composite armour was protected by three-layers of self-replenishing defences, and the alloy itself was resistant to most small-arms fire.

Guess, Hackett was right, Adam pondered humorously. Next step, finding a way out.

He looked back at the Prothean spire, which reminded him of a certain building in Dubai. Reaching out, he brushed his fingers on the spire's surface in the hopes that it would contain information. His body and mind had adapted to Prothean technology, Liara and Javik had said so themselves. He had faith that the artefact wouldn't kill him.

The surface pulsed and sent a rippling wave through the seams of light, and slowly it began to dissolve in a blue wave of charcoal.

Shepard found himself staring at a pile of luminous dirt being blown away by the winds within these walls.

Fuck.

Looking around, he drew in a deep breath and hoped that he was going in the right direction.

XXxxXX

Marian had to remind herself why she went on this expedition. She remembered the year she worked as an indentured servant with her sister, Bethany. They worked as mercenaries, following the contracts, and had made a name for themselves. Though the two hadn't parted their boss on good terms, their relationship towards him was at least civil, and it allowed them money to fund the journey into the Deep Roads.

But her desire to find riches to get her family out of poverty influenced her to go on the expedition. She never thought her business partner would've betrayed her. That was something she never saw coming. Bartrand was many things, but a backstabber and a kin betrayer…

Varric no longer made humorous remarks, but deathly promises to skin his brother slowly.

Turning around the corridor, they arrived back at a familiar chasm. It was where the expedition had mired itself before Bartrand had betrayed them all. Dwarves may love riches, but it wasn't in their nature and culture to betray their own.

"Here we are, back at the beginning."

"Don't remind me," Marian murmured dryly, remembering where they had saved Sandal.

It was difficult knowing that a dwarf with the mind of a three year old, had frozen an entire lance of darkspawn in an instant, while her brother, Carver had been maliciously slammed into the ground by an Ogre.

"Can we just stop for a moment?" Bethany asked, her voice hollow and weak.

Marian turned to face her sister, and felt an icy hand clutch her. Bethany looked just like Wesley after he had been injured by the darkspawn.

"Maybe it's the mushrooms we found," Varric joked, but his humours expression disappeared the moment his eyes saw Bethany's blackened veins and pale skin.

"Andraste, no," Marian whispered.

"It's too late for me," Bethany wheezed.

Wrapping her arms around her sister, Marian gently laid Bethany against the wall and placed her hand on the cold flesh.

"Is there anything we can do for her?" Marian asked, imploring Anders.

The mage nodded. "She could become a Warden. It's no cure, but she'd be saved from the taint."

"Then we have no choice," Marian concluded grimly. "Anders, do you know where they are?"

"Yes, the map I have shows where they'll be camped."

Lifting Bethany onto her feet, Anders and Marian followed the map, with Aveline moving as the vanguard and Varric covering their backs.

The group moved through the eerie halls that were once populated by dwarves, and the food halls littered with shattered cutlery.

She examined the bodies of the dead darkspawn. Most were just grunts, but a number were ogres and Emissaries. They looked like they had been slain quickly and quietly, there was no sign of retaliation. Their corpses weren't mangled or mutilated; the only wounds seen were on their heads. As she progressed further down the trail of destruction, the bodies appear mangled and the walls covered in bloodied smears.

There was an ogre slumped against the walls, it's head replaced by a luminescent turquoise paste. The same could be said for warped armour in a puddle of the strange liquid. Then there were grunts halved by a fiery blade, or battered to death with a ram. It looked like a God of War had torn through them. Some were reduced to pulpy smears over the ceiling.

"By Andraste," she whispered.

"By the Maker, what did this?" Aveline wondered.

"The better question is, is it friend or foe?" Varric supplied.

"Anders," Marian called. "You said there were Grey Wardens in these roads, could they have done this?"

The mage ambled over to the dead and examined them closely.

"I haven't seen anything like this before; I do not believe this is the work of the Wardens."

"We can ask them when we see them."

Continuing on, she shifted Bethany's weight on her shoulders. Marian was deathly afraid for her younger sister. The apostate's skin was becoming deathly pale, her veins blackening and dark shadows forming around her eyes.

"Just hold on, we'll be there soon."

…

The Grey Wardens, a welcome sight and a good reprieve. They were dedicated masters of fighting the darkspawn and great allies with the dwarves who had lost their homes to the demonic creatures.

Maybe, just maybe, Bethany would live to see the sun again.

"Ah, Anders," the leader of the outfit said dryly.

"Stroud," the mage said with equal calibre.

"My sister," Hawke interrupted whatever feud these two have – it could wait. "The darkspawn."

Stroud turned his brown eyes warily onto Bethany's deteriorating health.

"Salvation may not be where you wish it to be, or what you may hope it," he said. "Some consider that the life of a Grey Warden is a fate worse than death. It is a calling, a duty that cannot be neglected."

"Please take her," Anders begged. "She's an excellent fight, a powerful mage."

"Those who become Grey Wardens rarely if ever, get to see their loved ones," Stroud argued softly.

Hawke knew his intentions were noble, but she was willing to sacrifice seeing her sister and take joy in the fact that Bethany would still be alive and well.

"At least she will live," Marian reasoned.

"Are you sure about this?" Bethany asked softly.

Marian felt her heart drop. Would her sister prefer death by the hands of the taint, than life as a Warden?

"Yes," Marian nodded.

But before they could continue further, a distant roar interrupted them. She heard the rumbling and the shaking. Ogres were coming their way, and whenever there was an ogre, a legion of darkspawn travelled in their wake. The Grey Wardens and her companions readied their weapons, bracing for the oncoming onslaught. All eyes turned to the junction up ahead, waiting for the first creature to round the corner.

Marian drew her bow and aimed. The first ogre came into view, but instead of turning right, the beast charged onwards at an unseen force. A white orb with a helix in its wake, crashed into the ogre's head.

"Hold here," she ordered.

She watched the darkspwan's movement come to a halt as ice covered its flesh. Another orb trailed behind, but it was a fiery orange. Flames burst forth from the sphere and shattered the frozen skull. In a heartbeat, the ogre fell. But its more heavily armoured battle brother behind it was still moving.

A low hum rolled across the caverns as ghostly greenish-blue lances stabbed through the throbbing read and boiled the heavy armour away. Soon the beams struck flesh, and caused a water cascade-like sound. Soon the beams coalesced into one strong continual focal, and turned the ogre into nothing more but a luminescent sludge.

"By the Maker," Aveline whispered.

Darkspawn roared past into the storm. Violet-blue tendrils lashed at the horde, smashing the grunts with savage force. Black orbs with dark cobalt rings morphed into existence, robbing the darkspawn of their foothold. A bolt of energy streaked towards the helpless creatures, and unleashed a deafening shockwave.

But the horde continued, unwavering in their feral desire to kill the force that dared defied them. A streak of sapphire light ripped into the central mass, throwing bodies in all direction.

Like an Archangel of battle, a man clad in black armour with orange plates floating around him, stopped and breathed. Wisp tendrils arced from him and latched onto those surrounding him, like constricting snakes. The darkspawns screeched in pain, flailing about as they were burned alive.

A spell sailed from a source out of sight towards the newcomer. He stood his ground and held up his left arm. An orange gauntlet and flaming shield materialised, withstanding the spell's impact. He raised his right arm, and launched a dozen projectiles down the hall.

Grunts danced from one foot to the other, scrambling over their dead to claim the kill. Waving their blades savagely, the struck at the armoured entity, he stood his ground and struck back. An orange blade appeared on his right gauntlet, just as he swept out his arm.

Scores of heads fell to the ground, singed necks and electrified corpses soon followed. Reaching around his back, he unslung an object that appeared to be some kind of crossbow – lacking a bow. The metallic object expanded, and expelled a turquoise mist.

He brought the thing to bear and rammed it into an Emissary's abdomen. A greenish-blue spear punched through the demonic corpse and the shade behind it, turning them all into glowing ash.

Spinning around on his fulcrum, the being slammed his elbow across a darkspawn, shattering its temples. The grunt was dead before it met the ground.

Everything from the way he moved told Hawke that he had been trained in the creed of warfare. Unlike most soldiers, he did not fight with a feral ferocity despite the brutality of his strikes. He lacked the artistic grace and elegance of generals and commanders, but had their infinite precision.

Nothing in excess, nothing wasted.

She wasn't sure if she should charge in and aid him, but his attacks could very well harm her and her companions. Hawke couldn't risk it.

As the darkspawn closed in, voice screeching and blades clashing, the entity still remained calm. Powerful waves of blue and violet rippled out from him, tearing the horde into oblivion, until none was left to challenge him.

Marian watched his stance relax as he slung his strange weapons. The orange plates that surrounded him, faded from existence. Her companions and the Wardens were silent.

"Who are you?" Hawke muttered.

"Not who," Varric corrected, "but what?"

The being turned around and faced them. She could feel a lump forming in her throat and an icy hand crawl down her spine. Tightening her grip on the bow, she aimed for the heart.

Slowly the newcomer raised his hands as a gesture of good faith. But Hawke didn't trust him. His intimidatingly powerful build was no less intimidating in a neutral stance.

"Whoever you are, we are grateful for your assistance, but hold still," Hawke ordered, trying to remain calm. She could sense her companions shift uneasily behind her.

The being stopped, hands still raised.

She guessed the being was male, human – judging by his size, or at least a small qunari. His armour lacked anything in the way of artistic flair present in all the armour worn by nobleman. She could say it looked very qunari in its design, utilitarian and only made for its desired purpose.

The plates overlapped one another in a dragon skin like fashion. Each looked they had been finely crafted by the greatest armour smiths. The blood red strip that ran down his right arm was bordered by bone-white upon an onyx black; it certainly gave him an intimidating edge. There was an aperture perched atop his forehead, similar to what jewellers wore, except she doubted that they were for examining gemstones. There were four focal points, combining to provide a panoramic view, that much was certain.

"Who are you?" Hawke asked.

Must not show fear, her inner voice chanted.

He still had his hands raised, and slowly he turned to face Marian.

"I am Commander Adam Shepard," he answered.

There was something unsettling about his voice. It was powerful, authoritative, calm and reassuring – the mark of a leader. His accent was something she couldn't place, there were no extenuation of vowels, it just sounded very neutral. But there was a haunted weariness to it and something else. It didn't sound worldly, there was an electric crackle to it she couldn't describe – like there was no soul behind it.

Seeing that his intent was not hostile – for the time being – Marian gestured for her companions to lower their weapons. The Grey Wardens were still on their guard however.

Hawke watched as the Shepard's head inclined to Bethany's ailing form.

"What's her status?"

That was an odd expression. Usually people would ask for someone's condition, not their "status". A small pointer that he was not from Thedas… or had a different education.

"She'll be fine," Anders answered. "The Wardens will take care of her."

Shepard's body language said he wasn't convinced.

"Let me have a look at her, then," he offered.

All eyes turned to Hawke.

If he can defeat darkspawn that easily, then maybe he can help Bethany, she reasoned.

With a nod, the Commander walked calmly towards the pile of rocks where Marian's younger sister was. Kneeling down next to her, Shepard reached up to his helmet and unlatched a buckle. There was a hiss of air as he lifted the armour piece and revealed his face.

He had rugged features, closely cropped dark hair, light stubble on his jaw, blue eyes and a curving scar on his forehead. His skin was pale but had a soft tan to it, and looked absolutely smooth and free of abrasions.

Lifting his left forearm, an orange gauntlet winked into existence with a strange hum. He slowly moved it across Bethany, before retracting it back. A coloured silhouette of Bethany's body appeared above his forearm. A red dot flashed at the lower abdomen area, while yellow lines coursed outwards.

With his right hand, he tapped on the gauntlet, and the image shifted again, focusing on the wound inflicted by the darkspawn.

"It's not like any poison I've seen," he muttered.

Hawke wanted to ask him what kind of magic he was using, but decided to ask him some other time. There were more pressing matters at hand.

"There is no cure for the darkspawn taint," Aveline said grimly. "Only to join the Grey Wardens."

Shepard's confusion was clearly etched into his features as he turned to face the Guard Captain. Taking a leap of faith, Hawke decided to ask him a crucial question.

"Do you know what the darkspawn is?" she asked.

There was a pause.

"Those things back in the cave?" Adam gestured.

Marian nodded.

"Do not worry," Stroud said, "we will take care of her."

Gently, the Wardens lifted Bethany.

"I guess this is goodbye then," she said.

Tears stung Marian's eyes. It is a fate some consider worse than death.

"We will meet again," she said firmly, feeling her chest tighten.

XXxxXX

Deep Roads Entrance

She was rich… she had wealth and soon power would follow. But her sister was not there with her, nor was her brother. Marian loathed going to Gamlen's shack now. She knew that her mother would ask for Bethany, and she knew that she would have to explain why Leandra's youngest daughter would be with the Grey Wardens.

At least she'll write letters, Hawke thought grimly.

Everyone loved Bethany's kind hearted nature. She was strong headed like her sister, but was also a bit naïve. Knowing that brooding wasn't going to help, Marian shifted the pack of gold and continued to lead her companions along the trail back to Kirkwall.

Commander Shepard hadn't said much since he'd join her group. From the sounds of it, he'd been in the Deep Roads for a few days. There were so many questions to ask him, she didn't know when it would be the right time.

The equipment he had suggested he was a powerful mage, yet he moved like a rogue-warrior hybrid. Even Anders was chomping at the bit to ask Adam a few questions. No one spoke, but they could all grasp the magnitude of what Hawke felt, so they all remained silent.

Only the sound of crashing waves and footfalls were the only things to hear. All the animals were asleep, and no bandits would dare venture this far to the Deep Roads. Sure, there were riches to plunder from the caravans, but each would be accompanied with mercenaries.

If Marian's luck held out, the bandits would assume that she and her companions were just a scouting party.

…

This place, wherever the hell he had ended up… it wasn't right. The people, they spoke English, there was a man they referred to as a dwarf, and there were references to apostates. Yet their society was pre-industrial. Something along the lines to medieval.

Trying his COM once more, Shepard switched to an open channel.

"This is Commander Adam Shepard of the Normandy. I'm down at an unknown location," he said. The hiss of static was the only reply.

He followed the leader of the group, Marian Hawke. Apparently, she was on an expedition and had been betrayed by her business partner. What pained her most was the loss of her sister to a group called the Grey Wardens.

Keeping his head on a swivel, he scanned the woodlands with his optics in case of an attack. The pack he carried, no doubt belonging to Bethany, contained ample amounts of gold. Bandits would definitely take the opportunity to jump the group for the vast amount of treasure.

There was a lot of trust in allowing him to carry the gold… or let him come with them at all. On the other hand, maybe it was because Hawke didn't care since she had more than enough gold and gemstones to last countless lifetimes.

Alert, Shepard's HUD flashed.

White outlines of humanoid figures appeared along the edges of the woodland.

"We've got company," Shepard said aloud.

The figures burst into action the very moment Hawke and her companions dumped their packs. Shepard dropped to the ground, narrowly avoiding a barbed arrow. He quickly spun towards the source, levelled his SCAR and squeezed the trigger in quick succession.

The bandit archer shuddered under the impact of three rounds slamming into her chest; she was dead before she hit the ground. Turning to engage his next target, the suppressor unit hissed as rounds were hurled with terrifying accuracy.

Aveline moved towards the bandits, shield at the ready. It was clear that she was the frontline fighter for the group, absorbing hits and distract the enemy long enough so that Hawke and Varric could deliver the killing shot with their arrows.

However, what drew Shepard's attention, was Anders. The man possessed magical abilities. Every stroke with his staff, fireballs rained from the skies, burning out the bandits hidden in the foliage. Thunder strikes stabbed the ground with savage energy, turning the sand to glass and ripping the highwaymen into oblivion.

That staff was too simplistic to be an anachronistic Omni-tool. His optics picked up no energy signatures save for infrared and UV flares. But that was it. Nothing else, no known radiation or extreme electromagnetic frequencies… nothing – except for the EM signature from the Synthesis Event.

It was something he could dwell on later, turning back to the task; Shepard scanned the tree line for more enemy archers. Hawke and Varric still stood their ground, having Anders's magic to defend them

Magic…. Bloody fucking magic…. But I have biotics.

With his left arm flaring to life, Shepard launched multiple singularity fields into the forest. The black orbs with violet tendrils plucked everything off the ground, dirt, leaves and combatants. He could see the bandits with their panic filled eyes, flailing for a branch to hold onto. But there was no use.

At the flick of his wrist, the fields detonated in a spectacular sapphire storm. Thrown into trees or torn into oblivion, most of the bandits caught in the savage maelstrom were reduced to nothing more but bloodied smears.

"Maker…" Varric breathed. "That was quite impressive."

Adam had to admit her preferred gunning down something inferior and familiar as opposed to screeching, growling creatures and howling apparitions that appeared from nothingness. He knew for a fact that Omni-tools couldn't create drones that intricate.

"That's impressive magic abilities you have their," Anders commented.

Shepard said nothing, save for a curt thank you.

Clue number one… or two, Adam thought dryly.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a body stir. Quickly he sprinted towards the fallen form, and had crouched down beside the man with his M-11 Suppressor at the ready.

"P-please don't kill me," he whimpered.

Hell, he's just a kid.

"Where's your family?"

"Dead," he choked.

Shepard had seen this story too many times on Omega. Kids turning to crime because there were no other options, Adam had been fortunate enough to stay away that path. Since his birth, it was a given he would grow up and enlist. The Alliance Parliament had done everything in their power to provide him and many others like him with the best education possible.

Despite his sheltered upbringing, he knew that those without, far outnumbered those with. This boy begging for his life was a stark reminder that in a pre-industrial age, many had little hope of escaping desolation. A small voice asked if he could truly kill the boy in cold blood.

Hawke walked over and knelt down beside the teenager.

"You shouldn't be here," she said softly.

"I-I'm sorry," he said.

Slowly, Shepard holstered his weapon and hoisted the boy to his feet.

"Here," Hawke said, handing the teenager a bag of – what Shepard assumed to be – coin. "Find honest work."

Seeing the boy off, Hawke and her companions resumed their trek. Shepard wondered if she was going to ask him about the things he had performed. It was already clear to him that he was dealing with a medieval culture – or a Dark Age culture as he preferred.

Swords, bows and nothing so much as a firelock, Adam noted.

Of course he was just painting what he had seen so far of their society with his own perceptions.

…

Relief quickly flood Hawke as she saw the gaunt gallows of Kirkwall, and the tall statues of despair. She never thought she'd be so happy to see the city again. It was a sign she made it, that she had pulled through. However, as soon as she laid eyes on Lowtown, her stomach flipped and boiling water cascaded down her back.

Bethany.

She still had to tell mother about Bethany.

XXxxXX

Lowtown, Kirkwall

Lowtown in Kirkwall, it made his skin crawl. The shanty shacks leaning upon one another like a group of drunkards trying to stand. Everything here reminded him of the Favela back in Rio. The Alliance did their best to clear out the gangs, but there was just so many people living there. Candidates of N-School were sent into the Favelas for combat experience. Fighting in the narrow corridors and pushing through ambushes was one of the most stressful things Shepard had done.

Lowtown reminded him of that brutally suffocating environment. At least he could take comfort in the fact that there wouldn't be a sniper waiting to take his head off. With the sun high up in the sky, the populace was active in the markets. It seemed vibrant enough like the meat markets on Omega he'd been too.

He also noticed the wide-berth everyone gave Hawke and her entourage as they made their way through the streets. Eyes were flicker back and forth, some were leering at the leader of the group, others were assessing their monetary worth and the rest just looked on wearily.

I need a cloak, Adam decided.

There was a superstitious air to this city, an old and hollow aura that didn't strike him as a renaissance society. Maybe he was judging to soon, but that was what he had to do if he wanted to have an edge.

Analyse and leave room for interpretation.

"Home away from home," Varric sighed happily.

The building looked like it had seen better days. It's corroded stone walls and weathered timber did little to put Shepard's concerns at ease. Above the doorway was a large figure of a man, being hanged upside down from a support strut. The bar was aptly named The Hanged Man.

Funny how seedy bars and clubs seemed to name themselves to their patron's predicament.

Some of the sober visitors eyed Shepard with curiosity, having never seen his armour before. The drunkards however, leered at Hawke. Marian paid them no attention; she just beckoned her companions to follow her.

She lead the group up the stairs, instinctively, Shepard hovered closely to one side of the walls, textbook operation for clearing buildings.

Entering a room, Shepard was greeted by the sight of a well lived in space, with room for guests. There was a double bed at the far end with a dresser beside it. In the centre was a table and comfortable chairs, illuminated by the fireplace.

Adam was going on gut instincts alone. He wasn't too sure if he should bail out on this group and take his chances, or stick around. Placing the treasure pack at the corner of the wall with the others, the Council Spectre moved over to a corner of a room, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long as Hawke turned to face him, and leaned onto the back of a chair. Taking his cue, Shepard removed his helmet and latched it onto his harness.

"What was that back there?"

Adam breathed out a heavy sigh. This was something he had been dreading, explaining technology to a culture with magic.

One shitstorm after another. Too shoot them – best to stop there.

Shepard looked at Hawke and her companions warily. He hated when he was this unprepared.

Maybe this is all a sick joke and I'm indoctrinated… or better yet, I've snapped during interrogation training at the Villa. Meaning the Reapers aren't real, and I was nowhere near committing genocide or a stellar or galactic scale… on numerous occasions.

Fuck… face it Adam, this is real.

"Magic," he answered. Shit, I did not just say that…

"Magic?" Hawke repeated exasperatedly, with an arched eyebrow.

"Magic," Shepard shrugged, attempting to make it look more convincing.

"I've never seen magic like what you did back in the Deep Roads," Anders commented.

Bingo… Deep Roads… now where the limey hell is that? Or here? Where is here?

Easing off his helmet, Shepard sat down on the corner stool and looked up at Hawke. He knew these people were intimidated by him, and right now, that was not what he wanted. As much as he hated to admit it, he was on his back foot. No, worse than that, he had been dropped into a place with no intel, no support and worst of all, no logical conclusions he could draw from.

"You're not from here, are you?" Hawke questioned.

Very astute… of course I'm not from around here.

"I could answer that, if I knew where here was," Shepard countered.

"You're in my room," Varric supplied. "At the Hanged Man, in Lowtown, in Kirkwall, in Thedas."

Smartass. At least shorty told me where I was – sort of.

Adam's eyes followed the dwarf as he opened the door ajar and whispered to the tavern girl about getting them some drinks and food – in that order – before closing it again.

"Can this wait until tomorrow?" Adam asked, playing his final trump card. "I'm a bit tired."

Not really.

"It's alright if you're an apostate, I can help you hide from the Templars."

Apostates and Templars? Don't mean to be insensitive or anything but… are these people in a crusade? Does Christianity exist here? Well they speak English, I've seen a lot of dwarves on the way in… and there are… elves? Hell, I'll believe in Space Buddy Jesus... and Gandalf.

"Hawke, he's clearly an apostate," Varric said.

"Then we should protect him from the Templars," Anders argued.

Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

"Look," Shepard interrupted. "I can take care of myself."

"So I've noticed," Marian said, brushing aside a stray lock of her ebony hair. "But the Templars will find you unless you have someplace safe to…"

The door creaked open. Shepard's arm darted for his pistol, ready to raise the weapon and plant three rounds into the intruder.

"Wait! Wait!" Hawke waved. "She's a friend."

Adam's stance relaxed, realising the potential standoff he could've created.

A woman with a dark complexion carried a tray of bread and stew, and a jug of drink. She placed the foodstuffs onto the table, and then turned to face Shepard.

She was clearly not a tavern girl, the pirate styled outfit and the daggers on her back were a clear indication. Standing next to Hawke, the two were a clear contrast to one another and not just in looks alone. Sure they were both beautiful, but Hawke had a certain grace and elegance to her demeanour, while the newcomer was something more of the look of a thrill seeker about her..

"My, my," she said in a sultry voice. Her eyes moving appreciatively between the chiseled features, narrow waste and stylized codpiece. "Who's this?"

"Commander Shepard," Adam answered with a menacing growl.

"I'm Captain Isabela… well former Captain."

The Spectre looked at her warily. She struck him as the cutthroat type and obviously immune to intimidation. I hate her already.

"We found him in the Deep Roads… or more like our paths just crossed," Hawke added.

"Deep Roads?" Isabela asked with a slight tone of surprise.

Anders nodded. "He tore through an entire hall of darkspawn."

"Getting off topic here people," Marian reigned. "What are we going to do with Shepard?"

"No offense Hawke," Varric said, both hands raised in a non-threatening gesture. "But you need to see your family. I'll handle the payments, and we can get back at this tomorrow."

"You can bunk with me," Isabela suggested blatantly.

Shepard's eyebrow creased in annoyance.

"Oooh, someone's serious. Almost as bad as Fenris."

"Isabela, stop taunting the poor man," Marian chided. "I'll be back soon."

Adam watched her leave after she sent him a reassuring look. He then turned his attention back to her compatriots.

Well… this is awkward.

"Really, what was that back there?" Anders asked.

"Not going to let this go, are you?" Shepard countered in a polite tone.

"It could help the apostate's cause, help them be free of the Templars."

"Not this again, Anders," Isabela groaned.

"At least I'm helping other people," the mage countered. "I'm helping them gain their freedom."

"Please, I'd rather eat right now, than argue about morality," Varric intervened. "I've also got a traitorous bastard of a brother on the loose too, so shut up and eat. Shepard, you're more than welcome to join us. I kinda owe you for saving our asses in the Deep Roads."

"Appreciate it," Adam said diplomatically.

Sitting down on the chair by the table, he waited until everyone had filled up on their share, before getting his own.

Chance of poison… possible, but unlikely.

Surprisingly, the stew didn't smell all that bad. Despite the seediness of the establishment, it looked like the meal had been well prepared. Taking a small scoop in his spoon, Shepard tasted the broth and let the flavours dance. It was slightly spicy and sweet, accenting the savoury aroma nicely.

"This is good," he said.

"That's why I ordered it," Varric smiled. "Sounds like you have eaten for days."

"Haven't eaten since I arrived in the Deep Roads," Shepard shrugged.

"What were you doing down there alone?" Anders asked.

"It wasn't by choice," Adam answered. "I was… examining an artefact, and then I ended up here."

"Do you have any plans?" Varric asked.

Shepard stirred the contents of his bowl and placed a hand on the timber.

"Find a way home."

"Where is home?" Isabela queried.

"Very far away."

XXxxXX

Gamlen's Shack, Lowtown

There was Leandra, waiting by the door with her brother. Marian could already feel an icy hand grip her heart while a fire was set alight on her back. She shifted uneasily in her leather and plate armour as she walked towards her uncle's home.

By the time she had reached the steps, her mother had already spoken the dreaded words.

"Where's Bethany?"

Marian knew better than to expect a "welcome home" from her mother. Their relationship had been frosty ever since Carver had died, and Gamlen's squandering of their family wealth was no help either.

It pained her to know that her mother silently blamed her for the death of her younger brother. But it hurt even more to know that this time, it was her fault. She had let Bethany go with her into the Deep Roads; she was the one that gave Bethany to the Grey Wardens.

This time, it was her fault.

"Mother… I don't think… I don't think she'll be coming back," Hawke whispered.

"Oh Maker, my baby," Leandra sobbed. Her knees gave way as her hands met the dirt. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks and dropped onto the ground.

Marian felt a knot in her throat as she tried to comfort her mother.

"I… I'm so sorry. It's all my fault," she said as her eyes watered.

Her mother said nothing, but continued to cry for another child lost to the darkspawn. She felt a hand being placed on her shoulders and looked up to see her uncle with a rare expression; sympathy.

"I think it's best if you let your mother be, for a while," he said softly.

XXxxXX

Put a child in a cell, and he will yearn to see what lies beyond those walls and beyond the horizon. Put a child in an open field, and he will forever remain there – his curiosity having never peaked.
-Anonymous

XXxxXX

A/N: Well there you have it, my attempt at a crossover where the two universes have an exponential technological, philosophical and ideological gap.

A lot of the ideas that I wanted to use in this story has been cut out after I had read Stars Fade by totallybursar, just in case people get the notion that I'm stealing ideas. I'll do my best to make this story as original as possible.

Pffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffft, used the "Citadel explodes and sends Shepard to Thedas" scenario.

Please leave a review and tell me what you think.

-Andrithir