Everything was happening too fast. Seeing the fetal Reaper had shaken something inside of her, had twisted something in her core. She'd wanted to throw up for a moment, tasting bile in the back of her throat, but she'd swallowed it. No. Hell no. This was stopping here, now, no matter what.

The Illusive Man could shove all of his human supremacy bullshit up his smug ass. Nothing good, nothing, could come from a place like this, from a place that had been creating something so foul.

She'd spared a look at her squad for a moment. Zaeed looked shaken by the sight of the human Reaper, and even Legion seemed to reach a quick consensus that the thing had to be destroyed. If even a dead Reaper could indoctrinate, what havoc could a partially formed one do?

Shepard hadn't expected the thing to claw its way up the platform and start attacking them. It had been barely controlled chaos, blasting away at it. The rest of the team was heading back to the Normandy, and it was just the three of them left to finish the fight, battered and worn and exhausted. Herself and Zaeed had their jaws set, however – neither of them planned on dying here. He certainly had a track record of making it out of these sorts of situations alive, and there was no concession on his face now. Shepard could appreciate that. She had no intention of dying, either.

Legion was unreadable, but as it had said not too long ago, the geth did not experience fear.

Then the Reaper was howling and its death throes displaced the platforms. Time had held no meaning since she'd seen the thing, but now that it was gone, falling down into the abyss below them, time was racing to catch up. The impact of its thrashing sent the three of them sprawling and she looked frantically to Legion and Zaeed to make sure they were all right. They had to get the hell out of there. Time was quite literally ticking away.

Legion was fine, gripping the platform with both fingers and toes, and Zaeed-

"Zaeed!"

She acted without thinking, sliding down after the mercenary, who was scrabbling uselessly at the smooth surface, his eyes wide in disbelief, in a mixture of fear and stubborn refusal. Shepard could easily imagine what he was thinking: Not like this.

She could still feel her oxygen hissing away as she turned end over end in the vacuum of space, feel the burning shoot through her nervous system, the freezing cold. Not like this, she'd thought, I'm not done yet.

Neither was Zaeed. Not on her watch.

"Shepard!" he shouted. It sounded at once alarmed and something else. Angry, maybe, that she was speeding towards the edge instead of scrambling to stabilize her footing. Scolding her for trying to save his life instead of her own.

She reached. He reached back, swearing colorfully.

He went over the edge.

She caught him.

Shepard grunted, felt her body teetering dangerously, but she grit her teeth and ignored the pain radiating from her shoulder. Heavy bastard. She pulled back, slowly, and he found purchase with his other arm, his legs, and for a brief moment he was nearly on top of her thanks to a lot of grunting and pulling and tugging.

They made eye contact and he gave her a brief nod, brows knit together in a strange expression. He looked a little pale. Shepard nodded back and slapped his shoulder.

"Shepard-Commander-!" Legion shouted in warning, pointing, and she managed half a curse before things went black.

It wasn't a peaceful blackness. Shepard snapped out of it in a bodily jerk, Joker's frantic voice coming over the comms. Assuring him she was fine, she hauled herself to her feet, glad the adrenaline pumping through her system was blocking most of the pain she was in. Her heart caught in her throat when she saw Zaeed and Legion under the rubble. Shifting the metal plank off of Zaeed stirred the older man into a fit of coughing and he took her hand up. Together, they freed Legion, and for a split second, she dared to breath.

Then they ran, and ran hard, using energy they didn't have. Legion was far out in front, the geth pausing at regular intervals to cover them with suppressing fire. Zaeed was right on his heels, perhaps reinvigorated from his near-death experience, though not enough to help Legion shoot the advancing Collectors.

Shepard felt like her legs were going to collapse, like her lungs were going to burst, and she was almost certain she'd dislocated her shoulder catching the mercenary. She was lagging behind.

Emerging from a tunnel she felt a rush of elation – the Normandy, and Joker. Joker with a rifle, snarling and spraying bullets at the Collectors like the baddest commando that ever lived. She felt a grin spread over her face, though it probably looked more like a grimace thanks to her exertion.

Legion piled into the Normandy, Zaeed close behind, and both of them turned to check on her progress.

Another platform slammed into the path they'd taken, and even though it didn't register in her brain for a moment, the expressions of horror on Joker and Zaeed's faces drove the event home. She'd have to jump. Her legs were barely working, her body felt impossibly heavy, and people were shouting at her.

Not like this, she thought fervently, pushing herself just that little bit harder. Her legs pistoned, her left arm swinging hard to keep up her momentum. She reached the edge and she jumped.

Not like this, not like this, not yet, repeated in her mind as she arced through the air. She hadn't put enough oomph into it - she'd only catch the edge.

Shepard slammed into the ledge with a loud grunt, tried to scrabble with her arms, and cried out when her right arm loudly informed her that yes, it was dislocated, and no, it wouldn't be supporting her weight. She slid back alarmingly, and for a moment, she felt a horrible pang of terror.

After all of that, she was going to be done in by her own dedication to her team.

Strong hands grabbed the back of her suit and hauled her up with a snarl.

"Up you go," Zaeed growled with the effort to pull her back up, staggering back when he took on her weight. They fell against the bulkhead and Shepard looked at him with what must've been a shocked expression. He'd just saved her ass. Zaeed.

"Excuse me, pardon me," Joker limped past them while Legion closed the hatch, and Shepard allowed Zaeed to prop her up, the two of them shambling after him. He was leaning on her just as heavily as she was leaning on him.

EDI counted down. Joker asked her not to.

Shepard didn't mean to, but she curled her fingers into a fist against Zaeed's back. She had every faith in Joker, but they were cutting it pretty goddamn close. Could he even feel the gesture through his armor?

He surprised her by tightening a hand on her waist, just briefly, a gesture of reassurance with enough pressure for her to feel it through her own suit. Apparently he'd felt her nervous one.

They'd have a chat later, she decided. Ever since Zorya they'd... had an understanding. Not the friendliest understanding, either. His sudden camaraderie was a bit strange.

One bumpy trip through the Omega-4 relay, and suddenly, it was done. Not over, exactly, but they weren't in danger for at least a little while.

"I need to make a call," Shepard said, patting Zaeed on the chest and shuffling away from him. He nodded and let her take her own weight, "Keep our asses covered, Joker. We're not in the best position to get attacked."

"You got it Commander," Joker said. He sounded elated, chipper even, and that brought a smile to what must've been one of her more dour expressions. If not for him, they'd all be Reaper paste.

"All right?" Zaeed wondered. The concern didn't come from him easily and she nodded at him, waving him off so he didn't have to hover. Not that he was actually hovering, but he was making an effort to do more than be tolerant of her. She appreciated it. Coming from him, it meant a lot.

"Yeah, thanks," she said, offering him a lopsided smile and holding her dislocated arm, "We're sort of even now."

"Maybe," he grunted, smirking back at her, "Got any twenty year grudges you're planning on chasing down?"

Shepard let out a short bark of laughter and walked past him, shaking her head. Jackass.

Later, after telling the Illusive Man where to shove it (again), and after a visit with Dr. Chakwas, Shepard couldn't help but replay the events of the past few hours in her mind. They'd been tasked with a suicide mission, and here they were, maybe a little worse for wear but alive. There wasn't even any fanfare this time around, and she was contemplating limping to Omega for repairs. Owing Aria one was a risky proposition, however. While she'd done the asari some favors, she didn't think Aria had an altruistic bone in her body.

Most people still didn't believe the Reapers were a threat. She didn't want to put them in any more danger than she already had.

They'd do what repairs they could in private. Adding Cerberus to the list of people that weren't happy with her seemed a bit redundant – she'd already disrupted quite a few of their operations in the past. Making off with the Normandy in her newly restored body was a bit of a twist, but hell with it. The Illusive Man had wanted her completely intact, wanted her to be who she'd always been, and she was. Maybe for awhile they'd had somewhat similar goals, but she couldn't begin to trust a man who thought trying to reverse engineer Reaper tech was a good idea.

It wasn't over, but she wanted it to be. Selfish thinking, thinking she never gave into, but in the quiet after something so intense, she couldn't help but let her mind wander. For just a little while, she wanted it all to stop long enough for her to catch her breath.

One loud exhale later, she pushed up out of her chair and went down to the crew deck. Sitting around her quarters not reading the pile of datapads she ought to go through wasn't accomplishing anything. Maybe having something to eat and talking with the crew would help her feel more centered.

She'd made her rounds once before after the conflict, but she was still met with praise and back patting, which she returned with indulgent smiles and hand shakes.

"I can whip up something special for you, Commander," Gardner offered as she approached the kitchen, "For pulling our asses out of the fire like you did. What's your favorite?"

"Come on," she chided, "We all did our part. I just did the most shouting, nothing special about that."

He gave her a dubious, chastising look and she laughed.

"Nothing special, all right?" she put her hands up in defense, "Whatever you've got cooking now smells great."

Shepard spared a look around the mess hall. Most of the human crew was sitting down to eat, with some notable absences. The aliens, she knew, preferred to keep to themselves when they were able to, dining in private.

She certainly didn't envy poor Garrus and Tali, who had to suffice with what was likely tasteless dextro-paste. Maybe they would stop at Omega. The two of them had more than earned a decent meal.

"Have Jack and Zaeed come up already?" she wondered, surprised by just how hungry she was when Gardener's cooking tickled her nose. When had she last eaten? Seemed like forever ago.

"Nah," Gardener frowned, looking somewhat uneasy, "You know Jack, she'll just come make something for herself later. Zaeed usually comes up to eat with the crew, so I'm sure he'll be up sooner or later."

"Make my order a triple," Shepard decided, tapping the counter, "I'll bring them their food."

Sighing, but not game to argue, Gardener loaded up three trays and Shepard headed for the elevator, balancing them inexpertly. She hadn't done a whole lot of waiting tables in her day. Grunt, she assumed, had been up in the crew mess the moment he'd smelled food, and Tali always looked after herself. Jack didn't trust Cerberus, but Zaeed's absence was a little peculiar. He was a loner, fair enough, but he wasn't an introvert by any means. Maybe he was still unsettled from the Reaper fight.

The thought sent a chill up her spine and she mashed it down. It was dead. That was the end of that.

"Huh, what're you sucking up for, Shepard?" Jack asked when Shepard set a tray out for her.

"Just being friendly, Jack," Shepard smirked, shaking her head, "You all right?"

"I'm fine," she said tersely, though she did add, "Thanks. I didn't really feel like going up there with all those Cerberus assholes jerking each other off like they actually did something fucking useful."

"Jack-"

"Later, Shepard," Jack said loudly, effectively ending the conversation.

Some things never changed. She decided she'd leave the biotic for now and went to starboard cargo, calling out, "It's me," as she came inside, "Room service."

Zaeed was in his usual spot, leaning against the bulkhead and staring out into space. He turned to look at her in surprise, though a crooked smile broke out on his scarred face when she pulled up a crate.

"Thought you might be hungry," Shepard said, balancing her tray in her lap, inviting herself to eat with him, "Gardener said you usually eat with the crew. You all right?"

"You already saved the galaxy," Zaeed said, dodging her question and sitting down on another crate near hers, "Don't you ever get tired of solving other peoples goddamn problems?"

"So you're admitting you have a problem?" she asked, pausing to make an 'mmm!' sound, "This is great, by the way. Food tastes so much better after you dodge a bullet."

"Don't I know it," he said dryly. Again, he didn't answer her question, looking from his meal to her, studying, thinking.

"Thanks for hauling my ass out of the fire back there, Massani," Shepard said seriously, watching him eat. He looked uncomfortable with the thanks and shrugged a shoulder.

"You did the same for me," he said, looking away a moment, "Hell of a thing, Shepard. How's your arm?"

Shepard rotated her arm to demonstrate that it was fine.

"Good as new," she said, "Try not to fall off of anything for a little while though, all right?"

"Same goes for you."

They ate in silence, but even with her tray cleared, Shepard felt like the air wasn't entirely clear. He wasn't the type to avoid eye contact or to have some sort of... inner turmoil, she supposed. Maybe that wasn't a fair assessment, however. He'd been pretty torn up about Vido.

Shepard leaned forward, elbows on her knees and head tilted just slightly to the side.

"Hell, Shepard," Zaeed grumbled, "I know that look. What do you want?"

"What's eating you?" she asked, "Come on, I figured you'd at least have a story for me when I came down here."

"You risked your life for me," he said after a minute, leaning his back against the wall and putting a boot up on a nearby crate, "What the hell was that about?"

"You're part of my crew," Shepard shrugged, "Maybe we're not best friends, Zaeed, but I don't leave men behind."

Except in one instance. Her jaw tightened slightly, wondering if he'd call her out on it, but his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere.

"Hell of a risk to take," he said, "Not that I'm ungrateful, Shepard, don't get me wrong. I just-"

Zaeed scowled and folded his arms over his chest, shaking his head.

"Hey," she reached over and shoved his foot off the crate with a cheeky smile, "Get over yourself, all right? I look out for my squad, whether they like it or not."

Her shove set him slightly off balance and he shifted his weight, smirking in spite of himself, regarding her with an expression she couldn't identify.

"You're a hell of a woman, Shepard," he said sincerely, "Never thought I'd save the galaxy. Should've asked for a lot more."

"The galaxy isn't saved yet," she laughed, rubbing the back of her neck, feeling more tickled by his compliment than she'd anticipated. He was a hard man to get through to, "But thanks, Zaeed. I know technically your contract is over now, but you're welcome to stay on if you want. I couldn't have done this without you."

"Don't get all soft on me, Shepard," he growled, waving a hand at her, "I get it."

"Get what?" she quirked a brow at him.

"I don't usually work for free," he said, sounding suddenly cross, "I'll think about it."

Her other eyebrow rose as well – she hadn't actually expected him to consider the idea. Just how much had the last mission shaken him up?

"Zaeed-"

"I should let you go," he said, rising to his feet and putting his back to her, saying over his shoulder, "Talk more later, Shepard."

"Later, Massani," she stood as well, collecting his tray and squinting at his back. She'd come to learn when people needed some time to themselves, tempting as it was to keep prying.

Shepard left him be and headed for the elevator, shaking her head. She wanted to think that he'd stay on, but she hadn't been born yesterday. He'd made a career out of being a mercenary, a bounty hunter, and he wasn't going to throw all that out the window for the person who'd decked him, royally fucked up his revenge and put a gun to his head.

Maybe he would for the person who'd kept him from falling to his death, though.

Don't get all soft, Shepard, she scolded herself, hearing the echo of his voice in her head. She had a sizable team, and losing one man, a man who was in the practice of being bought, shouldn't effect her so deeply. Still, she was used to people rallying behind her in spite of themselves. It would sting a little, if he left. She had pride, after all, she was just able to swallow it most of the time if it meant getting the job done.

There were datapads to go over, she reminded herself, and she'd have to see if she could pitch in to repairs. The sooner they were ship-shape, the sooner they could figure out where to go next.

Or what to do next.

Shepard wound up falling asleep in her chair, head cradled in her arms, surrounded by datapads. Her sleep was troubled, the dreams disjointed and unsettling, and she woke some hours later with a start. Her hands sent some of the datapads flying as she clawed at her desk, certain she was falling, slipping.

"Shit," she breathed raggedly, rubbing her face.

It was better than the dreams where she was slowly suffocating in the vacuum of space as the Normandy burned silently around her, at least.

She checked her messages and collected the datapads she'd displaced. There was a lot to do, and it was impossible to say how long they had before the Reaper's made their next move.

A/N: Shout-out to Mongoose Bite, who is a brilliant beta and a constant inspiration.