So, I got to wondering. Why does Kaidan turn into such a jerk in ME2? What if Shepard met Thane a little sooner than she does in the game? What on earth possesses me to keep writing these things?

Mass Effect and all its characters belong to Bioware. My overactive imagination belongs to me XP

Shortly after ME1

They were supposed to have won. Saren was defeated, Sovereign destroyed, and the Citadel was safe, at least for now. That's where the story always ends, doesn't it? The hero emerges triumphant from the wreckage of the battlefield, grim determination on her face as she returns to receive the accolades she so richly deserves, everything made right in the universe once again.

Except that wasn't what happened, not at all. At first the Alliance made her their showpiece, parading her around like a prized pony, using her as living propaganda to sell the glory of the human race. Her place was aboard her warship, not pretending to be a symbol of some unattainable ideal, and certainly not photo-edited beyond recognition on their recruitment posters. Shepard felt like a fraud, and most days, she would have given anything to be back on a mission, her companions at her side. She'd take husks over politicians any day. At least you could shoot the husks.

It seemed as though her life was out of her control, and just as she'd begun to seriously contemplate a change of career, a quiet disappearance from public view, the fickle eye of the media turned elsewhere. Commander Shepard was no longer important to the galaxy, and she couldn't have been more relieved. But when she returned once again to take command of the Normandy, she found her beloved ship was not as she'd left it. Garrus was gone, having returned to C-Sec with the goal of one day becoming a Spectre. He'd left only a message, thanking her for the honor of fighting at her side, and she couldn't bring herself to delete it. Walking the decks, she noticed many of the men and women aboard had changed as well, as fresh-faced as her original crew had been scant months ago.

They went on a few sorties, hunting geth in the Skyllian Verge. The missions lacked the urgency and excitement of her earlier adventures, but it felt good to be back where she belonged, the whole galaxy at arm's reach, her pistol reassuringly holstered at her hip. It was slow, painstaking work, with little action and long periods of scanning, and her team was getting restless. Wrex grew more short-tempered by the day, clashing with some of the newer crew: she'd had to physically stop him from tearing one of her cadets in two. Standing her ground inches from the raging krogan, ancient and immense, scarred and brutal, she understood why the young recruits tended to stare at him, unable to look away. Yet she refused to back down when he told her to get out of his way, and he begrudgingly grunted and stormed off. He'd sworn himself to her krantt, but she knew he needed battle like she needed air. This could not last: soon enough she'd have to set him free.

Kaidan had been avoiding her, ever since she'd turned him away on the eve of their jump through the Mu Relay. He'd been a good friend, always keeping her confidence, and she'd come to rely on his support and advice more than she'd realized. Every now and then she'd catch him watching her from a distance, but when she tried to approach him he stayed blank, emotionless. He was trying to be strong, trying not to show he was hurt. Shepard felt guilty for not wanting him, guiltier still for the feeling deep down in her gut that she'd always known he wanted her, and lacked the courage to set him straight until the moment her rejection would cut the deepest.

And so, as effortlessly as Shepard's warrior tribe had come together, they began to fall apart. Not a day passed when she didn't think of Ashley, and her sacrifice. Not a night went by without dreams of the Reapers, ancient memories blurring into twisted nightmares, a constant reminder that the time would soon come when the same sacrifice would be asked of her.

It wasn't a surprise when Tali stopped by her quarters one evening, head bowed shyly as she explained why she had to return to her people, asking Shepard's permission to leave the Normandy.

"You were always here of your own choice, Tali, and you're free to leave whenever you like. It's been an honor to have you aboard. You'll always be welcome on my ship." Tali just froze, then burst forward and hugged the commander, nearly knocking her off her feet.

"Thank you, Shepard. Keelah se'lai."

It was settled. Approaching the Migrant Fleet directly was ill-advised, even with a quarian passenger aboard. Tali was a girl when she left for her pilgrimage, but she was expected to come home as an adult. The manner of her return was just as important as the new technology she brought: even a captain's daughter had to earn her place among her people. She asked Shepard to bring her to Ilium, where she could barter safe passage home using credits she'd earned as an Alliance crew member. It wasn't much money, but it would be enough, and no quarian could say she'd had her success handed to her.

It was Liara who insisted they throw a going-away party for Tali. Though a century apart in age, the two women got along famously once they gathered the courage to talk to one another. Shepard envied them at times: they laughed and conspired like sisters, and when they worked together to solve a problem, thoughts and ideas and technical jargon flew between them faster than anyone else could follow. They were each brilliant, but together they were unstoppable. Liara was going to miss the quarian dearly, and the two had been near inseparable since Tali announced her intention to leave. As uncomfortable as Shepard was with the idea of letting her crew run wild on Ilium, she couldn't deny Liara the chance to give Tali a proper goodbye.

Cursing quietly to herself, Shepard put on civilian clothing for the first time in ages. She'd initially stepped out of her quarters wearing Alliance fatigues, hair swept back in an attempt to dress herself up and pass Liara's scrutiny. The asari stood waiting by the airlock, shaking her head in disapproval.

"What? It's not armor."

Liara sighed. "You could at least put in an effort, Shepard."

"Tali's wearing an exosuit."

"I have to wear an exosuit. Besides, it would be nice to know there's a person under there. I'm beginning to wonder if you aren't secretly a geth." Once reserved, Tali had gained a great deal of confidence during her time aboard the Normandy. It hit Shepard how much she'd grown up.

"I've heard rumours, Shepard. Maybe you are a robot." Liara had a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Secrets were hard to keep on a small ship, and although she doubted Kaidan would openly talk about what happened between them, the whole crew seemed to know she'd turned him down.

"Fine, I'm a robot. But I don't have any civvies." The last part was true: she'd left her old life behind her when she joined the Alliance, including her clothing. Military commanders had no use for finery. Liara just grinned, unsettling Shepard more, and exchanged a few words with Tali in whispered giggles.

The whole crew stepped through the airlock and into the dangerous beauty of Ilium's streets, save a few left behind to guard the ship. Herded along by their vigilant commander, they shuffled through the gleaming hive of the city, gawking up at skyscrapers like children on a school trip. Shepard kept them in line: getting lost on Ilium could be fatal, and she wasn't about to let the city claim her charges.

As they approached Eternity, Liara and Tali each grabbed her by an arm and pulled her aside, gently but insistently. They waited until everyone else had entered the bar before Liara leaned in to explain.

"We're staging an intervention, Shepard."

"What? I can't just leave everyone in there."

"They'll be safe. I know the bartender: she'll make sure no one gets in trouble. Now come with us, we're buying you real clothes."

"I don't need real clothes." Even Shepard realized she sounded childish, and Liara and Tali knew they'd won.

"Yes, you do. Even you need to relax once in a while."

Shepard knew better than to argue with a determined asari, especially one who'd touched her mind and knew her secrets. Even so, convincing her to try on a dress was only slightly easier than putting a collar on a rabid varren. Liara and Tali found a shop and cornered her in a fitting room, lobbing pieces of clothing at her like grenades until finally she found something to her liking. Shepard tugged at the fabric, fiddled with the straps, wriggled restlessly at the touch of softness against her skin, and finally resigned herself after a few furtive glances in the mirror, deciding the dress wasn't so bad after all. Still, she felt uncomfortably exposed, and before the girls could protest she snatched up a few accessories, covering her arms in a close-cropped leather jacket and her legs in leather boots that laced to the thigh, their tops disappearing under the hem of her dress.

"Satisfied?" She gave a big goofy grin and a curtsy, making the girls laugh.

"Close enough. I might almost believe you're a woman." Liara had clearly been spending too much time around Joker.

"Thank you for taking off your armor, Shepard." Tali took her by the hand and gave it a squeeze. Shepard decided to leave her fatigues behind: there would be more waiting for her aboard the Normandy. A lifetime supply, she thought with a sigh. It did feel good to loosen up, if only a little. She led the trio back to Eternity to rejoin the crew, talking of lighthearted things along the way, walking arm-in-arm. Shepard even allowed herself a quick look up at the skyscrapers as they passed, for a fleeting moment gawking like a child at the wondrous sight.

Liara had insisted on holding Tali's party somewhere away from the Normandy: she said no one would be able to relax on board the ship. Eternity was bustling when they arrived, and Shepard realized with a cold shiver that coming here was a terrible mistake. There were dozens of strangers here, any of whom could pose a security risk. Humans, asari, turians and salarians made up the bulk of the patrons, with a smattering of other races, none of whom wore uniforms or insignia declaring their loyalties. A group of krogans was busy getting drunk in a corner booth, all males, and by the look of it their conversation was getting heated. Not a security guard in sight.

All around her people were laughing and talking, dancing and jostling: there were too many variables, too many individuals to closely watch. A young asari was staring at her from across the bar, her eyes daring Shepard to stare back. Two salarians chatted nervously to her right, using the din of the crowd to carry out negotiations for the price of unspecified cargo. And the vacant-eyed drell at the corner table, sitting veiled in shadow: something wasn't right about him. Shepard began rehearsing in her mind exactly how she would draw and fire the pistol concealed in her purse, cursing Liara for standing firm on the point that a gun holster was not appropriate eveningwear, glad she'd taken care to tuck a blade into the top of one of her boots.

Working her way through the crowd, she broke from Liara and Tali to detour past the drell. He kept his head down as she passed, staring numbly into his drink. Leaning in, she whispered softly into his ear.

"I know why you're here. Not tonight. Is that understood?" He kept his eyes down and said nothing. In truth, she had no idea what he was up to, but her instincts told her he was dangerous. If she were looking to kill someone, a noisy bar in a lawless city would be an ideal place, and she too would have chosen a seat in a shadowy corner, pretending to drown her sorrows and trying to look pitiful enough that no one would approach her. Or maybe he really was depressed, and she'd just confused the poor soul.

"Shepard!" Joker waved her over to a group of tables overflowing with exotic drinks and inebriated officers. She barely recognized her own crew: they looked too young, too happy.

"Are those Alliance standard issue?" He was staring at her chest: she shot him a sour look and fastened her jacket. They were all looking at her strangely: a long time had passed since she'd stepped out without a uniform. Shepard paid them no mind and ordered a drink, a weak honeyed ale that would do little to dull her wits. Liara and Tali squeezed in beside her and began chatting with the rest of the crew, drinking and talking, laughing and smiling, having what seemed to Shepard to be a fabulous time.

Are they all crazy? Shepard had never set foot on Ilium before that night, but she'd heard stories about thieves and assassins, smugglers and slavers, men who would slit your throat for offenses you'd never even heard of and a legal system so corrupt as to be a criminal organization all of its own. She had to protect her men, get them safely back to the ship. Still, Tali's happiness was well worth one night of vigilance, and she didn't mind the outfit as much as she'd though she would. And Tali was glowing, a newly gregarious queen of her tipsy little court. Shepard started to enjoy herself, following conversations here and there, sitting with her back to the wall to watch over her charges. Warily, she noticed that the group of krogans across the room were getting more agitated by the round.

"Aren't you going to dance, Shepard? You don't seem to be having fun." Tali's question startled her: her head snapped toward the quarian with military precision.

"I am having fun. This is the most fun I've had in ages. Honestly." She faked a smile and raised her glass, the ale barely touched.

"You're worried about me, aren't you. Everyone always worries about me. I can take care of myself now."

"I know, Tali, but…"

Gunfire cut off Shepard's words as one of the krogans decided he didn't like another's face. Before the commander could take charge of the situation, a blur of light flashed past her, and a combat drone materialized in front of the attacker, incapacitating him with a burst of energy.

"Her name is Chiktikka, I built her while you were scanning for geth. I told you, I can take care of myself. The sky won't fall if you let yourself have fun."

Incredulous, Shepard laughed, clapping Tali lightly on the shoulder. In any other civilized city, gunfire would bring security, and they'd spend the rest of the night being interviewed for a police investigation. Here on Ilium, the music continued to blare overhead, the noise of the room barely dimmed, and only a few heads turned to watch as the bartender Aethyta calmly hauled the krogans' corpses away.

Shepard excused herself from the table and headed off to the ladies' room. Or what passed for the ladies' room: the crowd grew stranger by the hour. She splashed cold water on her face, remembering Tali's words. She'd been treating the crew's night out like a combat exercise, one against a hundred. But she had dozens of soldiers under her command, four biotics counting herself and a krogan battlemaster, and a crack engineer with a brand new combat drone. Not so bad. Shepard took a good look at her reflection: not bad either, at least from the neck down. Her face looked pinched and harried, and her hair looked more severe than she'd intended, pulled back neat and tight. She took a red cosmetic salve out of her bag, dabbing it on her lips and subtly rouging her cheeks. Better. She let down her hair, shook it out, and closed her eyes, letting the tension drain from her face. Much better.

Liara and Tali were giggling furiously when she made her way back to the group. "So does this mean you're ready to dance? I think Kaidan wants to dance too." Oh no. They must be the only ones on the ship who hadn't heard.

Shepard was glad she'd already put blush on her cheeks. Kaidan, no less flustered, answered for her. "We can't. It's wrong. It's against regulations, isn't that right, Shepard?"

"Oh. I didn't think regulations counted on Ilium," said the quarian. When she received no reply, Tali grabbed Shepard by the hand. "I'm not part of your crew anymore. Let's dance. Or do I have to send Chiktikka after you?"

With an apologetic glance in Kaidan's direction, Shepard accepted Tali's offer. Quarian dancers were known for their elegance and grace, and Tali was no exception. Shepard did her best to keep up with her, hips swaying in near-forgotten patterns, letting herself be taken in by the rhythm, remembering the joy of dancing carefree, in the days when her life was still her own. Now, it was only a cover: she used the opportunity to scan the room. People milled about, changing tables as deals concluded and advances were accepted or rebuffed, glasses were raised, conversations began and ended, and one man fell over after drinking Aethyta's mystery brew. Wrex re-entered the bar, having chaperoned a group of officers back to the ship to sleep off their budding hangovers. A waitress brought an expensive-looking bottle to Joker's table and leaned in to talk to him, pointing at Tali and Shepard.

Joker already had the bottle opened and was decanting its effervescent contents when Shepard returned to the table. Ultrafiltered, amino acid free, and safe for general consumption: how thoughtful. "It's for Tali," he said, "some guy sent it over to thank her for doing his job, whatever that means."

Shepard glanced over at the corner table where the drell had been, finding it empty. Her instincts hadn't failed her, but at least the assassin had the good sense to take his leave.

"To Tali," said Shepard, raising a glass, eliciting cheers from the remaining crew.

"Guess if you're exiled from the Flotilla, you'll have a job waiting for you." Wrex snorted as he laughed: he'd barely spoken all night. It was as good a time as any to set him free.

"Wrex."

"Shepard."

"Your turn. Wanna dance?"

"You don't dance with crew."

"Yep."

"Uh-huh." That was all they needed to say, and Shepard was grateful for it. Wrex needed battle, and his people needed him. It would have been selfish not to let him go, although she knew he'd stay with her if she asked. She was going to miss having him around: she respected his advice more than anyone's, even if she didn't always agree. Wrex didn't take her up on her offer to dance, but he did share a drink with her, and a few war stories. She loved listening to him talk, letting the deep rumble of his voice boom in her chest as he recalled past glories and boasted of future conquest. He'd never talked about the future before, or about being the leader she knew he could be. Shepard was proud.

From across the bar, Liara caught her eye and waved her over, beckoning her to the dance floor. Most of the crew still capable of standing had joined the asari, gyrating in some vague facsimile of a dance routine. Shepard laughed, and with a glance at Joker waved them off. She didn't want to leave her pilot to drink alone.

"Go on," said Joker, "Wrex promised to teach me how to make women think scars are sexy. Top secret man stuff."

Shepard let herself be swallowed by the crowd as she moved to join her friends, still on her guard but no longer threatened by the teeming masses around her. She felt a part of them, a single thread in the motley tapestry of Eternity, at ease with the noise and heat and smell of sweat and perfume, the very air around her pulsing with life.

From the darkness, a deep voice rasped in her ear. "How did you know?"

Strong fingers locked around her wrist, preventing her from drawing her weapon. Shepard whirled to face eyes black as night, piercing as daybreak. His pistol lay holstered beneath the folds of his coat, but she was wise enough not to take solace in the fact. She was in danger, she could feel it in her gut, in the tingle at the base of her spine. Through her wrist he felt her pulse quicken, adrenaline surging at his touch. Assassins didn't live long once exposed: only her silence could buy his safety. He knew. She knew. And so it began.

Warning... next chapter is probably going to upgrade the rating (or downgrade, depending on your perspective).