Gail is an actress. Oh, she's never been near Broadway. Her name isn't in lights somewhere in Hollywood, and even the director of the childrens' theater three blocks over would look askance at the suggestion, but she knows it's true. She should get an Oscar for her performance. It's an amazing performance, and always on. She's always acting.

From the outside, everyone who looks at her sees a street rat running with "one of those gangs," someone who doesn't care about society's laws and customs. She's a petty thief, irresponsible and indifferent, unable to amount to anything and unconcerned about it. Even the gang, people she's grown up with and known her whole life, think the same.

She's good at what she does. No one else in the Tenth Street Reds runs faster or hacks locks more efficiently. She's stealthy and observant, and is the go-to person when they want something scouted out. She can even lead a small group, in a pinch. There's an instinct, a sense of where the group is weak and how to compensate for it. The Reds rely on her. They trust her. They think she'll always be with them.

Gail isn't so sure. She does enjoy success, especially when she is responsible for it. But she can't help but feel guilty when she helps the gang break into a pawn shop, or when her scouting mission against a rival gang is too successful, and someone gets hospitalized. She likes having people to watch her back. But as much as she knows that Jammer won't let anyone get the jump on her, she can't confide in him because he doesn't understand. She feels every punch that she throws, and she can't tell anyone because they just wouldn't get it.

There is one person she can tell. Sister Pat is always at St. Mary's, ready and willing to lend an ear. She found Gail at the local youth center when the girl was barely older than ten, and took a liking to her. Gail doesn't like the youth center, or the people there. They're hypocrites. They can't be trusted. She avoids them like the plague, and hasn't been back to the center in years. She keeps coming by St. Mary's though, lurking around the church doors or standing in the alley outside until Sister Pat finds her and invites her in.

They usually go down to the basement, where the parish hall is. It's big and open, with lots of tables and chairs for the monthly socials, and one wall covered with pictures drawn by the kids in Sunday School. There's a kitchen adjoining the hall, and Sister Pat and Gail sit down at the table closest to the kitchen to share something to eat. Most of the time there's soup, always warm. Sometimes there's something else, like pizza. One time, there was lasagna with garlic bread.

They'll eat, and they'll talk. Sister Pat isn't like the people at the youth center, telling Gail that she should straighten up and go to school. She doesn't make Gail do anything that she doesn't want to do. Instead, she listens. Just listens. And sometimes she asks questions. And slowly, Gail opens up. She's honest with Sister Pat, telling her about her adventures and her uncertainties, the things that excite her and the things she doesn't like. And Sister Pat doesn't judge her or tell her that she should do better. She just listens.

And so Gail keeps coming back. She'll help Sister Pat unload groceries for the food bank, or venture into the dark storage room to find the old crock pot. She'll climb the rickety ladder, much to Sister Pat's alarm, so that she can string the Christmas lights around the room. She'll keep an eye on the kids running around the parking lot. And when Father Mark stops to thank her for her help, she ducks her head and mumbles something and goes to find out what else Sister Pat needs done.

And at night, she sits in the dark and fingers the wooden rosary that Sister Pat gave her. It smells of incense, and reminds her of the church. And she thinks, about her life and her future. And the more she thinks, the more she realizes that she'll never be happy where she is.

One day, she goes to St. Mary's to find Sister Pat. The sister is in the church garden, humming softly as she tugs out little weeds to give the flowers room to grow. She looks up as Gail approaches, and a smile spreads across her lined face.

"Why, Gail!" she exclaims, warmth suffusing her voice. "It's good to see you, dear. I wasn't expecting you to come by today."

Gail feels a smile tug at her lips as she folds her arms and settles into her signature slouch. She lets it come; with Sister Pat, she doesn't need hide. "Hey, Sister. Need a hand?"

"I would love a hand." The older woman beams at her. "Perhaps you could reach those weeds there? The ones in back; I can't quite get those. My old bones aren't what they used to be."

Gail nods and takes off her jacket, dropping it next to the bag of gardening tools. She balances herself as she leans over to reach the young dandelions, digging deep to get the full root so it doesn't grow back. It's an unusually warm spring, and the sun is hot on her back. She soon pulls her long red hair up into a messy ponytail so it stops sticking to her sweaty skin.

They work in comfortable silence for a while. Gail takes the time to sort out her thoughts, so that she can say things right. Finally, she breaks the silence. "Sister, do you think the Alliance would take me?"

Sister Pat pauses, looking up at her, and the unspoken question hangs in the air. Could a street kid make it in the military? Am I good enough? The sister looks at Gail with a thoughtful expression for a long moment, and Gail keeps still, watching to gauge her reaction.

"Gail, I've seen a lot of kids grow up around here, many of them on the streets. They've all had potential, but they were all afraid to use it; afraid of what they could become." She sits back on her heels, a solemn look on her face. "You have it too. You burn with potential. You have talent, you have instinct, and above all you have a good heart."

Gail waits silently, expecting to hear a but any moment now. Sister Pat continues, leaning forward intently.

"Let me tell you what I see in you, Gail. If you go to the Alliance, you will struggle. You will face incredible odds. You come from a disadvantaged background, but that weakness gives you strength. You have great courage, Gail, and I know that you can do whatever you put your mind to. You just have to fight for it."

Gail stares at her, and then releases a breath she hadn't realized that she was holding. "So...go for it?"

Sister Pat's smile returns, broad and encouraging and as warm as the sun on the back of Gail's neck. "You're eighteen, dear. You can do what you want." She reaches out and places a hand on Gail's shoulder, and the girl straightens her back. "Tell you what. There's a recruitment office downtown. I'm going to be visiting the Catholic Charities office that way on Friday; if you like, I can give you a ride."

Gail straightens further and opens her mouth, and Sister Pat holds up her other hand, forestalling her. "Think about it. Pray on it." She pats her shoulder. "If you decide that you really want to do this, meet me out in front of the church on Friday. I'll be leaving around eight-thirty."

/o\\

When Gail gets back to the base-it's in an old house, built at least a century ago-she finds Nick, Jammer, and Tina waiting for her. Jammer's eyes widen at her slightly as she comes through the door, and he jerks his head at Nick. Gail follows her indication, and sees Nick's eyes narrowed at her. Tina is very carefully not looking at them, and Gail tenses.

"Where've you been, Gail?" Nick demands. He's using his bossy I-know-better-than-you tone, the one that always makes Gail want to slug him.

"Out, Nick," she snaps back. "Last I checked, I didn't need to check in with you every time I left the building."

"You're always 'out'!" He takes a step towards her, and she unconsciously shifts her stance, balancing on the balls of her feet. "Someone's 'out' all the time, makes a guy think that someone's got interests elsewhere. Huh, Gail? Got some other interests?"

"What I do with my time is my own damn business." There's ice in her tone, and out of the corner of her eye she sees Tina make herself smaller.

"Nuh-uh. We're the Reds, Gail. We're supposed to look out for each other. Kinda hard t'do that when you're always wandering off like you got something better to do!"

"Uh, Nick-" Jammer starts, but doesn't finish as Gail cuts him off.

"Well, maybe I do have something better to do! Maybe I want more out of my life! Maybe I don't want to be a loser like you!"

Jammer's eyes widen further, and Tina gives a soft squeak. Something seems to snap in Nick, and he charges Gail with a roar. Without thinking, she meets him head-on.

He's big and strong, but she's fast and nimble. She dodges his initial swing, and brings an elbow down on the back of his neck. He stumbles and falls, grabbing her leg so they both go down. She kicks with her free foot, getting him in the shoulder, and he roars again as he throws himself at her.

She can vaguely hear shouting as they grapple with each other. Nick gets a good hit in on her jaw, and for a moment she sees spots. She knows where he is, though, and snaps her head forward, feeling her forehead connect with something soft and hearing his yelp of pain. He grabs her hair and she bites his arm.

Then Nick is pulled off her, and Gail throws herself after him, fists raised to do more damage. Strong hands stop her, pulling her back, and she hears Jammer shouting in her ear.

"-it off! C'mon, Gail, for me, please?"

Curt is holding Nick back, likewise urging him to stop. "Cool it, man! This ain't the way to deal with the issue!"

Gail stops struggling and glares at Nick. His nose is bleeding as he glares in return, letting Curt hold him back. They're both breathing heavily, fury arcing between them like something tangible.

Jammer releases his hold on her, and Curt hesitantly steps back from Nick. Other members of the gang are standing in the doorways, watching hesitantly. Jammer looks between the two of them. "We cool?"

"Fine," Gail snarls.

"Peachy," Nick spits.

Curt nods and steps back, and Gail straightens her jacket. Her jaw is starting to ache where Nick hit her, but she shrugs off the pain. "I'm done answering to you, Nick. You touch me again, and I'll tear your balls off."

"Try it, bitch," he retorts. "Guess you're not such a team player after all."

Jammer and Curt both start to move, ready to step between them again, but Gail tosses her head. "All depends on the team, Nick. See you round."

She turns on her heel and stalks out.

/o\\

The sun is barely up when Gail arrives at St. Mary's. She has a change of clothes in the bag slung over her shoulder, the rosary in her pocket, and lightness in her step. Sister Pat, preparing the car, raises an eyebrow at the sight of the bruise on her chin, but makes no comment. Gail does not offer any explanation, and the sister does not ask.

They are quiet on the trip downtown. Gail wants to say something, to express what she feels to Sister Pat, but the words do not come. So she is silent, watching the road rush past them and thinking of her past and future.

The trip ends, and Sister Pat lands the car in front of a shiny glass-and-steel building with the emblem of the Systems Alliance in large blue and silver. The two women climb out and approach the doors, but Gail hesitates in front of them.

Sister Pat reaches over and puts a hand on Gail's shoulder. She smiles gently. "Good luck, dear."

Gail smiles back, and suddenly feels a tightness in her throat. Acting on impulse, she reaches out and pulls the sister into a hug.

"Thank you," she whispers hoarsely.

"You're very welcome, dear." Sister Pat says, her voice not quite as hoarse as Gail's. She pats the younger woman's back and pulls back to look into her eyes. "God bless you, child."

The interior of the recruitment office is clean and well-lit. Gail pauses just inside the doors, a sudden hesitation striking her. This is a big step, one that will undoubtedly change her life. Is it worth it? Can she take this step?

"Hey."

She turns and sees a young man, a small pack like hers slung over his shoulder, a similar uncertainty in his stance. He gives her an awkward grin.

"You here to sign up, too?"

She finds her voice. "Yeah."

"Cool." He holds out a hand. "Ryan."

"I'm G-" She stops herself. A new life.

She takes his hand in a firm grip. "My name's Shepard."

She takes the step.

Author's Note:

This is currently a oneshot, but expect to see a full-length story eventually, going over the events of the Mass Effect games through Gail Shepard's perspective. Said story will probably be a while coming; I've got a lot of ideas and scenes, but everything that I have written is pretty much all over the map, chronologically. I'll start uploading the full story as I get things sorted.