I don't own the Mass Effect.

Epilogue: Breaking Away

The Silver Blade

Cieran Kean

Date: 01-19-2187

Location: Illium Minor, Doru District, Omega, Sahrabarik System

We had won our little war. The Collectors were dead and gone, courtesy of Shepard overloading the station's reactor and the sympathetic detonations of a few nuclear bombs. EDI and EVA had even managed to abscond with a good amount of data from their systems, information that we still needed to go through and evaluate.

Well... information that someone else would be going through. Shepard and Williams were already gone, heading back to the Alliance and Council so that the former could try and explain herself and use the data she had to convince someone that the threat was real. I wasn't giving her good odds, but who knew, maybe she'd have better luck than I thought.

Lawson had left early today, heading back to her hidden base, though she had indicated she'd probably be going to Novgorod sooner rather than later to work out a new arrangement with Ayle now that our current alliance had run its course. I rather approved of that... Miranda was eminently sensible company, her politics notwithstanding, and if we could keep access to the SR-2 that would be a major benefit.

"Or it would be if we had any Lancers left for her to shuttle around." I muttered, tipping my second drink back. The alcohol burning pleasantly as I forced myself to keep going through the list.

Of the twenty three Lancers I had brought with on the mission, ten were dead, and nine of the remaining thirteen were wounded.

Of my four squad leaders, only Aya was still alive. Chek and Terro were both gone, costing me two more friends, and I'd never really gotten a chance to know Helir. The worst was Terro's old Team Two... they were down to a mere pair of survivors, and Deshi was fighting off an infection while Herra was being fitted for a cybernetic left leg.

Our support teams hadn't gotten off any lighter. The volunteer squad has lost four people, with four more wounded, one crippled for life, and our Nightblade maidens had seen half of their number die and all three of the rest were among the walking wounded.

That we weren't the only ones hammered by losses didn't really improve my mood.

Miranda and Shepard had gotten off strangely light compared to the rest of us, but they'd still lost good people. Grunt and Kara Bourdin were both dead, Mordin had needed emergency surgery that he'd evidently done himself, and Tali had been left on the SR-2, still under the knife with Nikita watching over her. For their part, the Cerberus crew had lost maybe one in five, positively light causalities, and they'd been the only group to suffer more dead than wounded.

Williams was still alive, barely, and so was Vega, but the rest of her team was dead. They'd evidently been on the rear-guard detail once they'd made it to the core, and had been all but overrun trying to hold the line.

Which still left them better off than Tela Vasir and her team... dead to the last Asari, the Spectre herself evidently going full kamikaze to delay the proto-Reaper long enough for Shepard to overload the core and then run. There was probably a long story to that, but Shepard hadn't been in the mood to share, and I hadn't been in the mood to ask.

"You shouldn't be drinking alone." I glanced up at Shyeel's voice, my old friend walking in to my office, one arm bound against her chest in a sling, a bottle of something held in her other hand. "Looking at the list?"

I waved a hand in disgust. "What the fuck else is there? Not like I can terrify the doctors into magically fixing Illyan."

And she needed a lot of fixing. More than a day after our return and she was still in and out of surgery, and none of the docs had been sure if she'd ever leave the coma she'd fallen into. Asari regeneration had its limits, and she'd... done a real number on her own brain by flaring her biotics in the last moments of the fight. That was on top of the wounds she'd sustained, including getting her already torn up leg torn apart, to the point where no one was really sure how she'd still been able to move... she'd probably been using her biotics for that too, explaining the sheer extent of her internal damage.

Shyeel settled into the chair across from me, kicking her feet up on my desk. "You want the full damage?"

I didn't. "...hit me."

She exhaled, took a swig of her drink, then set the bottle on the floor. "They're taking out what's left of the muscles in her thigh, they weren't healing. She lost those fingers too, so she'll be on anti-rejection and anti-regen drugs, probably for the rest of her life. They're still trying to check what parts of her brain got hit the worst... her sense of balance might be shot, maybe some motor control, they won't know for sure until she wakes up. She's done fighting, probably forever."

I let out a slow breath, lifting my glass again. "More?"

"Probably sterile, pegged the odds above seventy... might not even be able to meld anymore either." Shyeel shook her head tiredly. "About the only thing they're positive about is that she'll survive the surgeries, and that she'll eventually wake up. They want to keep her under for a few months at a minimum, try and see if her body can patch anything up in her head, but she'll make it."

Something eased in my chest, and my head fell back against my chair. "...good."

"Yeah." She murmured. "...figure they'll be transferring her to Novgorod soon. Guessing we're not going with?"

I shook my head. "And let Ayle talk us into working? Fuck no... I'm tired Shy... we're going on our vacation, and we'll take a second one when Illyan wakes up."

"That sounds like a plan... a good plan, for once." Shyeel said quietly. "How's Voya doing? Still asleep?"

"I may have slipped her the painkillers she was trying to avoid." I rolled a shoulder in a shrug, "She'll hit me later, but she needed the rest."

She smiled a little, the motion tugging at her scarring. "So long as she's not so pissed she won't make sure we get there alive."

I waved the concern away, "She'll be fine. It's the only place we can go and not be bothered and she knows it, even if she's a bit annoyed she won't risk ruining our first real break."

"You never know," Shyeel pointed out, "Voya's not really the vacation type."

No, she wasn't... but I thought she'd make an exception after the last few months. Past few years, really.

"Well... before we can plan that," I flicked my eyes to the reports again, exhaling out the emotions trying to well up again. "Should probably make things easier on Trena, pick out new squad leaders..."

"We could." She agreed, "But why bother?"

I rolled a shoulder, "It's my responsibility at the end of the day, much as I bloody hate it. Who gets squad one?"

My companion made a unhappy face, "More important question, who gets squad two? Deshi is cute but he's not a leader, neither is Herra."

A hand rose to rub at my temple as I grunted in agreement. "Mirala on team one, Jacqueline to two?"

Shyeel shrugged, "Works. Noru did a good enough job on four after Helir went down... probably safe to leave her there. Unless you want to reshuffle the actual teams around a bit?"

I grimaced, considering that. Right now we didn't any teams that were combat capable, and that wasn't a good thing. "Rotate Washana and Kesi to squad three, that would give Aya five mostly upright soldiers to work with."

"Aya? She blinked a few times, "I figured you'd drag everyone to Mirala's team."

"Mirala," I said, "Has proven she can kick people's asses into shape, and I want Jacqueline and Noru to get used to leading."

Another lazy shrug, "Works for me... going to be weird to come back, find new people wearing the coats."

The various locked boxes in my head where I'd shoved most of my emotions rattled a few times, and I needed a moment to sip from my drink before I could reply evenly. "Weird is one word for it I guess."

Shyeel frowned, then winced. "...I really know how to say the wrong thing, don't I?"

"It's part of your charm." I replied dryly, "Maybe you can round out the shift by propositioning Voya for a threesome."

"It's on my to do list... as soon as you grow a pair of nice breasts." She countered.

"...thank you for that mental image." I shook my head, "...fuck it, I don't want to stare at this shit or think anymore. I've done enough work."

"We've done enough work." My friend corrected me, getting her boots off of my desk and standing. "Time to get drunk and pass out."

I lifted an eyebrow, "Since when have you done any real work around here?"

"Does pouring drinks count?"

I considered that gravely for a few heartbeats, absently shutting my system down and tossing the tablet with the casualty numbers aside. "...maybe, depends on how many you pour."

She laughed at that, helping to haul me to my feet, the pair of us shuffling back into the old suite for probably the last time. I idly wondered who would be taking it over once our evacuation was completed, then decided that I really didn't give a shit. Someone from the Tersatani, but it didn't matter.

We'd just collapsed onto the living room's furniture when company arrived, Erana bustling in, closing the door behind her. "Shyeel, Dad."

"Told you not to call me that." I sighed, shifting back against the couch and getting comfortable. "Where's Jacqueline?"

"Asleep again." She reported, walking in our direction before hesitating. "I... just wanted to make sure you hadn't left yet."

That drew yet another sigh as I gave her a long look. "Erana... you can't come with. You need to stay near Illyan."

"I know." The gangly maiden replied, "I just didn't want you sneaking off or anything."

"I'm an ass but even I'm not that much of an ass." I shook my head, then waved a hand at the couch. "Take a seat, you can be our designated sober person."

My surrogate daughter did so, groaning audibly as she sat down and stretched her long limbs out. "...it'll be weird, living somewhere else. Kind of got used to the place."

Shyeel shrugged, "I never really cared for it... nice Omega is still Omega. It'll be good to have a real sky, real homes. Speaking of, did she actually cancel it?"

"She better have." I muttered.

Erana giggled, a little weak maybe, but a giggle all the same. "No, she didn't. Miss Trena and Ghai already moved in with Ethy, they say its a very tasteful penthouse with an excellent view and capable security systems."

I fought the urge to groan. I'd wanted something small and simple like this, preferably a bit away from the core area, but Ayle had used her new authority to overrule my desires entirely. A multi-story penthouse with room for my entire team, Erana, and then Trena and Ghai had been set aside to 'honor' our roles in founding the corporation. It was also, purely by coincidence, located just a few blocks from the headquarters building and the new Lancer facility.

Right where Ayle would easily be able to track us down if we were trying to avoid doing any real work.

"It's also near the new medical center." Erana's voice turned quietly somber once again, "So if my sister has problems... we'll be right there."

I half closed my eyes, tipping back my glass of rum. "...Shy, get her a drink too."

Shyeel narrowed her eyes, "Someday I'm going to kill you for shortening my name, you know that right?"

My left hand made a shooing gesture, "Less bitching, more fetching of rum."

She flicked a finger at me, a tiny bit of biotic power knocking my head back and making Erana smile a little once again, but she got off her blue ass to fetch more drinks all the same. Rum, whiskey, and brandy flowed in equal measure, Erana politely sipping from hers while Shyeel and I mostly focused on getting good and drunk.

Illyan was going to make it, that was worth getting drunk over.

Friends had died in a fight we hadn't truly wanted, that was also worth getting drunk over.

The Collectors were dead... and the Reapers were coming, which meant shit was about go get complicated. This would be our last chance to drink, to relax, to unwind for the first time in seven years... for Athame knew how many more years to come.

When I collapsed into bed with Voya, pulling my lover against me... it was with the knowledge that for once... there was nothing waiting for us tomorrow.

End: Another Realm VII - Hellhounds

And on that short and happy note... we are at an end. I struggled far more with this particular story than I did with almost any of the others, particularly after the second act or so... and I think it adversely affected the quality of it as the burn-out with the characters and setting finally caught up to me after six stories. Hopefully everyone still enjoyed it, even if I'm not entirely satisfied with how it turned out. In hindsight... I think I may have misstepped in bringing AR back towards canon after so long avoiding it, and Shepard, but what's done is done.

As usual, I won't give a time frame for the next story. Due to a few changes to who survived the final battle, the plot needs to be shuffled around a bit to make sense... and I may end up folding Twilight into Gotterdamerung entirely. Not sure yet, but don't be surprised if AR:8 is posted as the final story. I'm going to try and start alternating my writing between Student of Vacuo and AR, so hopefully another long hiatus will be avoided... but I can't promise anything.

Thanks as usual to The Blocked Writer for acting as my beta, and sticking around despite my long hiatus and occupation with other stories. Thanks to GreaterGoodIreland for creating the old tropes page, and thanks to anyone else whose edited it or talked about this story elsewhere.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, read, and stuck with me through seven freaking stories of this. You guys and girls are awesome.

Semper Victoria,

Kat