"…two broken ribs, punctured lung, several fractured vertebra…"

The voice swam through Shepard's mind. At first, he wondered if he was dead. Then came the pain, shooting through his back and side. It felt like he'd been hit by a shuttle. He opened his eyes, only to be greeted with intense white light. He closed them shut again, and opened them. He could make out several distorted, dark shapes moving about the room.

Then he remembered the fight. Ridley, standing over him, possessed by a Reaper and plasma burning in his mouth. He let his mind wander further back, to the Citadel, where Saren leapt from column to column, firing lasers at him and his team. Desperately, he shook the memories from his mind's eye.

He blinked several more times, clearing his vision. He was in a hospital room, bare white with no windows. Sterile tables lined the room, and there were a couple of chairs scattered about as well. The bed was also comfier than expected.

"…ooks like he's awake," a voice said.

Someone leaned over him. Shepard could tell it was Tali.

"This is becoming one hell of a trend," he groaned, wincing as more pain shot through his abdomen.

"You should try taking it easy," she said, barely restraining the elation in her voice. "You survived a crash from twenty kilometers up."

"How long was I out-" he sucked in air as his muscles burned. "…This time?" he finished.

"About twelve hours," another voice said. Garrus. "Not your best time."

Shepard shifted in the hospital bed. "Where are we?"

"Some Alliance cruiser," a third person said. Tzar appeared in Shepard's field of view. "En route to Arcturus Station for awards and free drinks. Well, the latter's what I'm hoping for."

"Drinks probably not available," Mordin said, stepping into the room, his eyes fixed on his omni-tool. "Good to see you're conscious, Commander. Was worried you might have suffered trauma."

"Mordin here found you," Garrus said. "Buried under several tons of ash and Reaper guts."

"Well, thanks," Shepard said. "How'd you get me out?"

"Had help," the salarian said. "Most of your wounds are patched up. Minor stuff. Won't take too long to heal as long as you stay off battlefield."

"Thankfully, I think we can all afford to take it easy right now," Tali said, sitting down in a chair next to Shepard. "It'll be good to finally relax."

"Agreed," Tzar said. "I want to get out and see the galaxy. Heard about some pretty cool stuff from some of the crew. Can't wait to experience it for myself."

"Where's Samus and Rundas?" Shepard asked.

"Samus took off as soon as she got paid," Garrus replied. "Bought a used ship and took off with Rundas as soon as she could. Said she'd like to stay, but she wanted a 'day off.'"

Shepard chuckled, causing more pain to fill his ribs. "Got any painkillers?"

"You don't need any painkillers," Dr. Chawkwas said, entering the room and setting down her tablet. "You've experienced much worse without them, and it could interact poorly with some of the meds you have in your system."

"Dr. Chawkwas," Shepard said, happy now knowing his crew had survived the battle. "Glad to see you made it off Phaaze."

"Yes, the crash was a little unpleasant, but the crew made it out unscathed for the most part. Joker's on the bridge right now showing the pilot of this ship a few things. Hope he doesn't decide to take us out for a joyride."

"So, everyone's accounted for?" Shepard asked.

Tali nodded. "We're all alive, despite what one would think."

Another figure passed through the door, entering the now-crowded hospital room. Admiral Anderson stood tall, looking stoical as always. However, his eyes showed there were more emotions playing out under his stern exterior.

"Sorry to break up the reunion," he said, "but I need to talk private matters with the commander. Could I ask you all to leave?"

"How about 'no,'" Tzar said, jokingly, as he left the room. The rest followed behind him.

"Talk to me after you two are done," Tali whispered to him before leaving as well.

Anderson pulled up a chair and sat down. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Been better," Shepard said. "What do you want to talk about."

"Several things. Firstly, Phaeton. The Reaper you encountered. We've been pulling it apart and, frankly, I think we finally can tell the council that the Reapers are definitely real."

"Well that's good," Shepard said. "Knock some sense into their thick skulls."

"Yes," Anderson said. "But I've also got official matters to discuss. I've already been working with the brass, and they're a little upset that the Normandy was lost in the battle. It's hard to justify a ship that costly being used as a dropship in an extremely hostile combat zone."

Shepard felt a pang of guilt cross his face. His home for the last two years was gone, and some of the Alliance's greatest engineering achievements had gone with it. "Shit," he said. "Are they coming after you?"

"Surprisingly, no," Anderson said. "They're more concerned about the loss of what it stood for. The figurative white steed of humanity's first Specter. The morale and political loss matters more than the monetary loss at this point. They can always build another, really. But…"

"But what?"

"They want to reassemble a task force under your command. They liked how you functioned while dealing with Saren, and now this ordeal with the Space Pirates has made it clear that you need a good team. They help you get things done."

"Does that mean you're keeping this group together?"

"Officially, yes. In fact, they're already attempting to contact Samus and Rundas with hopes of getting them back on board, though they haven't been responsive. But, I needed to check with you first. Do you want to have your own, Alliance-sanctioned team?"

"Well, hell yeah," Shepard said, wondering why that needed to be asked.

Anderson laughed. "That was for official purposes only. As far as I'm concerned, you've already got it." He pulled a file out from under his arm. "They want you working on this as your first assignment with the team. Colony disappearance at Freedom's Progress. Whole thing went missing. To small to warrant a full investigation, but Specters can choose what they want to look in to."

"I'll think about it then," Shepard said, picking up the file.

Anderson stood up. "Well, best of luck, Shepard," he said. "I will see you during the awards ceremony." He left.

Shepard opened the file and began reading.

Inside her new ship, Samus stared at the miniature holographic projection and half-listened to her potential client ramble on about…something. She liked her new ship. It was an old prototype patrol corvette that had never been mass produced. A gunship of sorts, shaped vaguely like a saucer with several hardpoints for mounting any number of weapons on it. Its cockpit was spacious enough to act as a makeshift sleeping area, and had a large window that provided a good view of the surrounding landscape. Mounted on the underside were three large mass effect field generators that doubled as landing gear - relics of an older style of human engineering. The whole thing was still colored the ugly Alliance white and blue, but she was going to have it painted with her own colors soon enough.

"…and that's that," her client's hologram said, tapping a cigarette on his chair.

"So why is it so important that you keep trying to contact me on my vacation? I just got through with one hell of a job."

"This will be a simple job, I assure you," the man said, taking a draw from his cigarette. "I need you to ask your friend, Alexander Shepard, to meet an agent of mine. This is a matter of galactic security."

"And why do you need to talk to Shepard?" she asked.

"Because, as much as I hate to admit it, I need his help with something big. And, though he wouldn't like to admit it, he needs mine as well."

"So, Mr…"

"Harper," he said. "CEO of Charon Industries."

"Look, I'm not playing this charade any longer," she said, leaning forward. "I know who you are, and I don't work with your kind."

"My 'kind,' as you put it, is working toward the advancement of humanity in the galaxy," he said, quickly dropping his facade and blowing another puff of smoke that disappeared from the projection. "And I know Shepard would help me if he would hear what I have to say. But I need someone he can trust to get him into contact with me."

"I don't work with terrorists," Samus said. "No matter how much they pay."

"I rarely contact those I wish to hire myself, Ms. Aran. I cannot stress enough how much I need you to contact him."

"And what if I don't?"

"Then bad things will happen."

"Enough bad has been done in Cerberus' name, don't you think," she said. "I don't work with scum like you. Your people are the human equivalent of the Zebesian's Science Team. The worst of the worst. I've seen what you've done countless times, and you expect me to work with you?"

"That's not what this is about."

"That's always what Cerberus has been about."

There was a pause.

"I can see there is simply no negotiating with you, Samus," the man said, taking another drag on his cigarette. "I shall contact someone else then. Good day." The hologram winked off.

"Finally," Samus said, elated to no longer have that asshole on her hologram. Her armor glowed and then melted away, revealing her last purchase after the ship: a new swimsuit. Usually, she wouldn't entertain such luxuries, but after the literal war she had just gone through, she decided it would be worth it. It was a simple red bikini, not overly revealing with longer shorts and a much more conservative top than most citizens of the galaxy would wear. She liked it though. She felt like she was off guard without feeling too exposed.

Stepping out of the chair, she took the small elevator shaft out of the ship.

"Finally," Rundas said as she sat down next to him in a folding chair. "And here I thought you wouldn't be taking calls on vacation."

"Had to. High profile client."

"New mission?"

"No," she said, flicking a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I turned it down. Not my type of work."

"Ah, well," Rundas said.

They sat in silence, watching as the sun set over Virmire's tropical oceans. The only sounds they could hear were the waves crashing against the shoreline and alien birds somewhere in the jungle behind them.

"You know," Samus said, searching for the right words. "This is nice."

"Yeah it is," Rundas said. He reached down and picked up a bottle. "Drink?"

"Sure."

He cooled it with his gauntlet's power and tossed it over to her.

"Thanks." She opened it and took a sip. Thankfully, it wasn't a prank or hard liquor. Just good old fashioned soda she hadn't tasted since she was three.

She downed half the bottle before leaning back in the chair.

For the moment, life was good.

The Illusive Man sat in his chair, facing the star Anadius, its cool, blue color reflecting against the black tiling of his room in the space station. He put out his cigarette and sighed. Samus had declined his offer, which was unfortunate at best. He was hoping to get Shepard on his side easily and without violence. Sadly, without someone the Commander trusted, that could be next to impossible.

He thought for a moment and took a drag, blowing out a wisp of smoke. He then tapped a button on his chair.

Another bounty hunter appeared in his holoprojector. This one, however, was not as welcoming as Samus. Its armor was sleek black with green lines, and it carried a massive weapon in one hand.

"Sylux," the Illusive Man said, "I have a mission for you."

"Can it wait for a bit, I'm in the middle of something," the mercenary's heavily-modified voice hissed.

"No. I merely wish to give you an assignment. You owe me several favors, after all."

Sylux growled. "What do you want?"

"I need you to retrieve Commander Shepard and his crew for me. Feel free to use any methods necessary, but I want them alive. No disintegration."

He could see the mercenary cringe. "As you wish."

"And rest assured, you will be paid. Thanks to the Phazon Crisis, I've been able to procure more of the xenotech artifacts you so highly value."

"Now we're talking," Sylux said. "When do you need them?"

"Within two months," the Illusive Man said.

"Consider it done."

Sylux deactivated its hologram and turned to face the Space Pirate Commander that called himself Weavel. "So here's the body," it said, pointing at the corpse of Ridley that was half-buried in ash and debris. There was a massive hole burned through his brainpan.

"He made it all the way to this planet, even after what happened at the Leviathan?" Weavel asked. "Even for him, I'm impressed."

"So where's my payment?" Sylux asked.

"We've already managed to secure whatever wreckage the Alliance left after they scoured the area searching for their dear Commander." Sarcasm tainted the last words. "Consider, say, forty percent of whatever tech we find to be yours."

"Fifty," Sylux said.

"Forty, and no more. You are in no position to negotiate." In response, several Zebesian soldiers pointed their weapons at him.

"Fine," the bounty hunter spat. "So what do you plan to do with his body? Stuff it? Eat it?"

Weavel knelt down next to Ridley's shoulders, running a talon along the dragon's armor. "Let me just say that there's been a schism in my species. If we want to be reunited, I think we're going to need our old Lord back to one-hundred percent."

Sylux laughed for the first time in ages. "You really think you can put him back together?"

The Space Pirate looked at it with a stern glare. "Indeed. We have the technology, even if our group is…smaller than would normally be. Now leave. Your services are no longer required."

Sylux huffed and boarded its old ship, the angular Delano 7. Once inside, she took off her helmet, letting her long black hair droop over the control console. One more job done, and another pile of ancient xenotech secured. It fetched a good price on the market, and worked well when integrated with armor or weapons. She'd have to pay another visit to Cerberus' R and D to get some new pieces made, but for now, she was content resting.

After all, she had plenty of time until her next job.

Author's Note: Fittingly, a year after this story began, it ends.

Can't believe we're finally here. At some points, I really did think I was going to just abandon it and start something else, but it's finished. The conflict has been resolved, and Shepard and his team can finally live in peace for a little bit.

Anyway, thank you all for reading. Seriously. There are many better fanfics like this out there (From the Ashes and Avatar of Victory come to mind), but you stuck with this, and heck, from the comments, enjoyed it. And that means a lot to me. Thanks to all of you for making it this far. It's great to have people responding. Makes the whole writing process worth it.

So again, thank you all for reading. It's been great, and we finally get some closure to the story.

Thanks, seriously. Can't seem to stop saying that.

But, with the end of this project, comes discussion of future ones.

I've been talking with some friends and fellow writers, and really, I'm gravitating toward doing an original web series. As much as I'd like to do a sequel (and not let any of you guys down by not doing one), but doing something original sounds like a good way to try something new and branch out as an author. Plus, I've been planning an original story for over half a year now. I'm not ruling out a sequel to Corrupt Elements entirely, but if I did do one, it would be a side project with far less frequent updates.

But, until next time, thanks for watching. It's been a good two years, everyone. Best of luck in all of your endeavors, no matter what they may be!

See you 'round!

- PrehistoricEchoes