It was a few drinks later - and it was just a few, he was due back on duty in eight hours - and Donnelly now sat in the miniature cubicle which could be generously called his quarters. At least he rated a separate room, as opposed to the general crew quarters. And even those were an improvement over the hot-bunking pods he'd gotten used to while in the Alliance. So all things told, Donnelly was quite content with his surroundings. The bed and desk were folded away which left him just enough space to sit in lotus position. He closed his eyes and began to slow his breathing. He could feel the tension in his face and the beginnings of a headache behind one eye. He told himself to just pay attention to his breathing.

-Dark brown eyes, full of fury, staring holes through him. A single question-

-What. The. Fuck. are you doing on this ship?-

-A black nightmare shape-

-A red beam-

-The Eye-

-THE VOICE-

Just breathe. Let the thoughts go. Don't control them. Let them come, and then let them go.

----------------------------------------

He'd been on Omega, sitting morosely in the Afterlife club.

Donnelly felt the bass of the music pulse through him and hoped it would somehow make him feel alive again. He was surrounded by excited, chattering patrons. Lots of stories were being exchanged, many trysts were being planned. There seemed to be blue-skinned asari dancers everywhere, occupying every elevated horizontal space. He watched their lithe, scantily-clad forms twist and gyrate. Donnelly wished such views would give him pleasure. But they couldn't, not now.

He slowly turned his glass in his large, callused hands. The amber liquid within rocked gently. The booth was empty; his dark demeanor did not invite others to join him. Donnelly knew what his problem was. However, this was a case where knowing did not help. He had seen the horror that was coming for them all, he'd been impacted by it in ways that his comrades in the Alliance just didn't understand. Donnelly had watched and ground his teeth as the Council and then the Alliance had begun to solidify the 'official' position. The attack on the Citadel had been a massive, unexpected geth invasion - and nothing more. Sovereign was a giant geth dreadnought - and nothing more. Yes, there had been initial rumors of 'Reapers', giant genocidal machines from deepest intergalactic space, but those were just rumors.

Donnelly had protested to his immediate superiors, then to anyone else who would listen. He had tried to work within the system. He'd been slapped with the 'PTSD' label and sent to mandatory counseling. He'd begun to drink more, probably a little too much. He had taken up meditation to try to calm himself. He kept up his protest efforts. The posthumous shellacking of Shepard's reputation had been the last straw. To see the Hero of the Citadel turned into an object of derision was too much. Things had gotten very ugly after that.

"Do you mind if we join you?" The voice was lovely and feminine, with a hint of an Australian accent. Donnelly looked up at the newcomer. Her face was pale, flawless, and as lovely as her voice. She had jet-black hair and light blue eyes that, for now, focused only on him. Donnelly saw a man standing behind her, but he was turned away to scan the rest of the club. All Donnelly saw of him was the back of a head and short brown hair.

Donnelly waved towards the bench opposite him. "Sure, it's a free country. For a while, anyway." He regarded the pair as they sat. The woman wore some kind of black-and-white catsuit which hugged her spectacular figure. There was an orange-and-black hexagonal logo on one shoulder of her outfit. The man, on the other hand, was dressed simply in jeans and a black tee shirt. His body was large and muscular, giving off the impression of vast coiled power just under his skin.

The man had eyes almost as blue as his companion's, but somehow they seemed warmer and less icy. His most obvious facial feature was a thin network of scars which crisscrossed his face. It may have been an artifact of Afterlife's dim lighting, but Donnelly could have sworn that those scars were faintly...glowing?

Donnelly crossed his burly arms and looked closer at the man. There was something familiar in those features. "I know you, don't I?" he asked the man.

The man shrugged, "I'm sure you've seen me, but we've never met personally. My colleague here is Miranda Lawson." Miranda gave Donnelly a graceful nod. "And I am-" the man paused, and one edge of his mouth curled up in an ironic grin. "-well, maybe you remember this." The man turned his head, showing Donnelly his profile. He tilted his chin up, and put a determined look on his face as if staring down the universe.

It was a very famous pose, from a very famous man. For the first time that evening, Donnelly truly felt something...namely, utter shock. "No! It cannae be!"

The man turned back to him and gave a soft, sad chuckle. "I'm afraid it can be. John Shepard, at your service."

Donnelly fumbled for his glass. "Dammit, man, I saw the vids of your funeral. It's been two damned years! If you were alive, why didn't you say something?"

"He wasn't alive," said Miranda. "It's a long story, but suffice it to say that John Shepard has had a very long road to recovery. But he's here now. And so are we."

Donnelly looked over at her. "We, ma'am?"

"Cerberus. We're the ones who brought Shepard back to life."

Donnelly took a sip and thought. He'd heard of Cerberus, some sort of human-centric extremist group. There'd been rumors floating around the Alliance of assassinations and weird experiments with alien technology. He looked at Shepard. "Is this true, Commander?"

Shepard nodded. "It is. Miranda was the one who personally oversaw the project to, um, rebuild me. Oh, and technically I'm no longer a Lt. Commander. Just as you are no longer an Operations Chief."

Donnelly realized what they were here for. He leaned back and crossed his arms again. "Okay, so make your pitch."

The two newcomers looked at each other.

"Oh come on," continued Donnelly. "You didn't just happen to run into me. You know my service record, you know that I'm ex-Alliance. And I imagine that the news of Shepard's return is still being kept secret. You wouldn't just stroll up and chat with some lonely drunk chap in a bar."

"Yes, Shepard's status is being kept secret for now," said Miranda. "And you're correct in that were hoping to recruit you. I've read your file, I know what happened to you during the Battle of the Citadel. We aren't looking for somebody just interested in a paycheck. We need people who are capable and who are committed, who know what we need to fight."

Donnelly took in a great breath. "The Reapers," he said, breathing out. It was a name he hadn't said aloud in quite a while. The club's lighting seemed to get even dimmer as he said it.

Miranda nodded. "We have a mission. We need a Chief Engineer. More specifically, we need you. You have an exemplary service record-"

Donnelly gave a short, bitter laugh.

"-yes, I would call it exemplary, even given the circumstances of your departure."

"Ah, departure. Is that what they're calling it nowadays?" Donnelly took a larger gulp of his drink. He gestured at the club's patrons surrounding the trio. "None of them know what's coming, do they? All this gaeity. It's all so much whistling past the graveyard." He regarded his drink, then set it down. "So you're going to fight them?"

Shepard nodded. "We are. And it isn't quite as bleak as you might think. The Reapers aren't gods, they're just very advanced machines. And their main weapon is surprise."

The former Spectre leaned forward. "What I'm about to say is highly classified. I might get in real trouble with the Council for telling you." Shepard rolled his eyes as he said the last. "The Citadel is a mass relay. A giant mass relay, connecting to intergalactic space. It wasn't built by the Protheans like we thought."

Donnelly scratched under his chin. He knew he should have been surprised, but somehow it made sense. "So who did build it?"

"The Reapers," said Miranda. "And their standard strategy is to use the Citadel relay to launch a huge, unexpected attack at the heart of whatever civilization is residing there. And they do it like clockwork, every fifty thousand years or so. You see, the Protheans weren't the first civilization destroyed by the Reapers. It's a cycle that's been going on for...well, millions of years, maybe. We're still trying to figure the timeline out."

Donnelly thought a little more. "So the geth's attack on the Citadel was to open the relay. Sovereign was trying to let the rest of his mates through. But why didn't they just, I dunno, push a button? Surely the Reapers have remote access if they built it?"

Shepard smiled. "The Protheans. They got in a sucker punch, right before their end. A small strike team was able to infiltrate onto the Citadel right after the last cycle and take away the Reapers' ability to remotely open the relay."

Miranda now leaned forward. "Thanks to the Protheans and to Shepard, the Reapers are still trapped in intergalactic space," she said. "We've slammed shut their main door into the galaxy. Under normal FTL speeds, the Reapers are going to take centuries, or more like millennia, to get here."

Donnelly nearly reached for his drink, then thought better of it and leaned back. He caught the glance that passed between Miranda and Shepard. "So without mass relays, by the time the Reapers get here, we'll be advanced enough to take them on. However, I'm guessing they're still looking for another back door into the relay network. They must have alternates set up, yes?"

"We think they have several proxy species scattered throughout the galaxy," said Miranda. "And one of them has just begun operating in earnest."

"Mr. Donnelly, have you ever heard of the Collectors?" asked Shepard.

Donnelly shrugged. The name was familiar, but he didn't have any recollection beyond that. "Not really."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"They're an advanced and very secretive race," said Shepard. "Until recently, they were known for...well, collecting specimens of different sapient species. Just a few, here and there. But about six months ago, they began abducting whole colonies."

"And only human colonies," added Miranda. "Tens of thousands of people by now. Why they're doing it is still a mystery. But past reports on the Collectors indicate that they use Reaper-based technology. So whatever they're up to, it involves the Reapers. We're going to go and take them out."

Donnelly looked at Miranda "We, eh? You mean Cerberus." He pointed at the logo on her shoulder. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yes, it's the symbol of Cerberus," said Miranda with evident pride. "I know, it sounds odd for a secretive organization like ours to have an official logo. But we're entering a new phase. Under previous management, our group made some...unfortunate choices-"

Donnelly saw Shepard's face harden.

"-but that is in the past. We're trying to show that we can be an open and positive force for good."

Donnelly looked at Shepard. "You're going to be leading this mission?"

Shepard nodded.

"Okay then, Ms. Lawson," said Donnelly. "If you've read my file then you know that there really is only one answer I can give you, correct?" And he knew it was true. Even if the man sitting across from him was some sort of clone, even if the whole thing was a fake, he couldn't just walk away. It was either go down fighting or sit and drink himself into a stupor waiting for the inevitable end.

He saw them both relax. "Excellent," said Miranda. "We can go over salary and other details later. I know it isn't that important to you, but you will be well compensated."

"Actually," said Donnelly, "I do have one condition."

Miranda frowned. "Well, that depends. If it's reasonable, we can accommodate you."

"I'm assuming you have a nice new uniform for me, to go with that logo?" Donnelly asked.

"Of course. As I said, this is going to be an above-board operation."

Donnelly placed his hands flat on the table and then laced his thick fingers together. "I wore a uniform for ten years. For an organization that I thought was worth fighting for. And they let me down and they let him down." He nodded at Shepard. "Hell, they've let everybody down. I swore when I left that I'd never put on a uniform again."

He regarded them both. "So, I will join you. I will be the best damn engineer you've ever seen. I will fight with you, because the Reapers need to be fought. I will follow Shepard into the very mouth of hell, if that's what you ask of me. But I won't wear a uniform. Never again."

Shepard and Miranda looked at each other. Shepard nodded, and Miranda gave a little shrug, as if to tell the Commander it's your call. "I don't think that will be a problem, Mr. Donnelly," she said.

"Excellent," said Donnelly. He picked up his drink and drained it. "So, I'm assuming that since you need a Chief Engineer, you have a ship for me?"

And Shepard smiled, the first really happy smile that Donnelly had seen from the man. "Oh yes, that we do."

----------------------------------------

"Mornin', Abramson," said Donnelly. He stretched a bit as he walked into Main Engineering. "How's she doing?"

Abramson was one of his two assistant engineers, and had apparently been with Cerberus for a while even before the Collector mission. He was a shorter, tow-headed man who always had a pleasant smile for everyone. It was a nice change from his other assistant, Rogers. Rogers always looked like someone had just let out a very raunchy fart in his presence. However, today Abramson didn't look happy.

"The core is fine, Marcus," replied the assistant, "but I'm missing a few printouts." That explained Abramson's expression. Missing paper was not just clutter, it could be dangerous. It could work its way into some vital bit of equipment.

"Don't worry, we'll find 'em," said Marcus. "Where did you see them last?"

"That's the thing," said Abramson with some exasperation. "I had them right over by the stairs to the subfloor space. I set them down, and when I turned back they were gone. There isn't anywhere they could go! It's not like we have rats or something on board."

A suspicion began to form in Donnelly's mind. "Rats, no," he said. "But I think they may have been taken, all the same."

Abramson gave him a quizzical look, then his eyes widened. "Oh man, you think it was her?" The assistant pointed one finger down at the floor.

Donnelly nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure it's her. Let's just mark this as a lesson learned. Just make sure we don't leave things lying around, okay?"

----------------------------------------

They settled into a routine, or at least as much as Donnelly could manage on a warship going into harm's way on a regular basis. He shuffled the maintenance duty roster in order to keep the other two engineering staff well away from the subfloor area. He made sure to make his visits there on a regular schedule. Sometimes, Shepard was there, speaking in a low voice to Jack. Donnelly always waited until the Commander was gone before venturing down.

Kelly Chambers had asked him if she could accompany him on one of his trips down into Jack's domain. The bubbly redhead was a nice girl, but she had all the self-preservation instinct of a lemming. Donnelly had tried to break it to her as gently as possible that no, that would be a Very Bad Idea.

There were, occasionally, some breaks in the routine.

----------------------------------------

"Now, Shepard," said Donnelly, "I was fine with the crazy biotic criminal squatting under my engineering deck. It's a challenge, I says. It keeps me on me toes, I says." He blew out a breath. "But this?" he exclaimed, throwing one arm towards the looming capsule sitting in front of the two men. "What are we going to do with it?"

"Him, Marcus, not it." Shepard seemed very proud of his new acquisition. "Can you get the tank on the shuttle?"

Donnelly folded his arms and looked sourly at the giant transparent tube, currently filled with a clear liquid along with the biggest krogan he'd ever seen. "Maybe, if we can get it on its side. Can it go on its side?"

"I hope so," said Shepard, "because that's what we're going to do. C'mon, it'll be a conversation piece. You know, for our next gala cocktail party." Shepard gave him a cheeky grin.

The engineer shook his head. "Okay, then. We have to get it out of this room first. Let's see..."

He then looked around. The place looked like...well, it looked like such places usually did after Shepard was done with them. Bullet holes traced crazy looping patterns in the wall next to the tank. There was large panoramic window - broken, of course - which looked out over a larger, cavernous space filled with more birthing tanks. The tanks were open, and their former occupants' hulking bodies were scattered all over. There were even a couple of large mechs that had been turned into burned-out piles of scrap.

In this room, the only corpse Donnelly could see was a large krogan who lay crumpled in a heap near the tank in question. "Who's that poor bugger, then?" he asked.

Shepard cocked his head to one side as he regarded the body. "That was supposed to be our next recruit. Warlord Okeer."

"Ah," Donnelly hadn't dealt with many krogan, but somehow he got the feeling that Okeer was old. Nobody really knew how long krogan lived, as they usually wound up dying violently before old age could claim them. Okeer's body looked ancient, with a scarred and creased headplate which had clearly seen many battles.

Shepard pointed at Okeer's body. "Take a good look, Marcus, because you'll probably never see this again. That was a krogan scientist."

"Really? Well, I guess there's a first time for everything."

Shepard then turned and pointed at the giant tank. "And that," he added, "is his greatest creation. Or so he claimed, right before he died. Okeer had access to Collector technology, and said he used some of it in making this paperweight. So I'm taking it. Hopefully the occupant will be valuable enough to keep this particular ground op from becoming a complete goat-fuck."

Donnelly stepped forward and peered into the tank. The krogan inside the tank was apparently asleep or comatose. The huge, reptilian body didn't twitch at all. Although Donnelly could swear that he saw a flicker of one yellow eye. Was it...awake? He regarded the krogan's wide and fanged mouth, and stepped back with a shudder.

"I've got no problem with aliens, right?" he said to Shepard. "Hell, we had a turian chap on the Perugia, part of some cultural exchange program. He was a right nice lad. Bit stuffy at first, but damn could he drink. I don't know about this laddie, though. Krogan have a justified reputation. And he'll be, well he'll be like a wee baby in a full-grown body. He won't know his own strength."

Shepard shrugged. "Okeer had an imprint program of some sort, to teach them while in the tank. We ran into another tank-born krogan on our way here. The guy actually helped us, and seemed pretty calm. Well, except for the fact that he wanted to wait around for his death. This krogan should be okay. Besides, I haven't decided yet if I want to release him. Let's at least get him out of here."

Donnelly walked over to the door. "Well, Okeer got the tank in here," he said, "so we must be able to move it back out. The door is big enough." He stepped through the door onto the metal landing and looked down. Six stories down was a little courtyard composed of rubble, surrounded by bombed-out buildings. The shuttle was parked in the middle of the courtyard, with Jacob and Zaeed standing guard. Donnelly leaned over the railing and looked at all of the various ramps and stairs leading down to the shuttle.

"Hauling it down that will be a right bitch," he said to himself. There was another ramp going up from the landing, however. Only one story up, and a straight shot at that. He came back in.

"I want to try getting it out via the roof," he told Shepard.

The Commander furrowed his brow. "I don't know, Marcus. The roof might not be able to take the weight of the shuttle. The building probably isn't structurally sound, we had to do quite a bit of shooting in here."

"Yeah, I noticed. But the shuttle can hover while we put our cargo in. I just need to estimate how much he weighs. It has be much less than the shuttle." Donnelly opened his omni-tool and began calculating. "Let's see, call it a cylinder. One point five meters diameter, two point five meters high. Filled with water, we'll assume the body is also about the density of water...okay. And the metal housing is about three centimeters thick...call it two thousand kilos."

The engineer turned back for the door. "I'll go up to the roof and check it out. See if we've got a place big enough for the shuttle, and if it's sturdy enough for our lovely door prize here."

"Hang on," said Shepard. He trotted to catch up with Donnelly. "I'll come with you. We've swept the area and the Blue Suns should be all gone, but I'm not so sure of the roof."

They tramped up the ramp. The sun was red and low in the sky, and a smoky haze hung over the surrounding buildings. The roof lay strewn with trash and crates scattered everywhere, and the smell of smoke and dust hung the air. Donnelly began picking his way cautiously through the obstacles, setting his feet carefully and listening for any creaking that would indicate danger. He heard Shepard following close behind, setting his own armored boots in the same places where his engineer stepped

"How are you sleeping?" asked Shepard.

Donnelly shrugged. He stopped to press one foot more heavily on a spot where there should be a support beam. Good, there was no flexing under his foot. "My sleep's okay. It's for sure better than it was. I think it's because I'm actually doing something about the Reaper situation. Plus the meditation helps."

"You know, I tried that a couple of times. I never could get it to work. I couldn't force myself to relax enough."

"It's not about forcing, Shepard. You have to realize that you can't control your thoughts, and take it as it comes. You just have to let it be. It all works out eventually. Ah, that looks promising!"

'That' was a wider area of the roof, free of any large debris. Donnelly nodded in satisfaction. "Plenty big enough for the shuttle." He walked into the center of the possible landing area and went down on one knee to inspect the roof.

"So," he asked Shepard, "once we get the tank on board, where are you planning to put it?"

He heard the amusement in his Commander's voice. "Well, you've got that one corner of Engineering that you don't seem to be using-"

"Shepard, if you put that damn thing anywhere near my drive core, I will have no choice but to break out my bagpipes."

"You don't play the bagpipes."

"I'll learn."

There was a soft click of metal, of a gun being cocked. Donnelly heard a new voice, harsh and weathered-sounding. "Freeze, assholes. Try anything, and you get a bullet. Now, you're going to move nice and slow, and get on your radio, and get that shuttle up here. And then I'm taking it-"

There followed the crunch of a step, followed swiftly by a wet bloody thud. A pause, and then Donnelly heard the larger thud of a body hitting the roof. He stood, never having bothered to turn around.

"Those mercs do like to talk, don't they?" he said.

"Christ, don't get me started," replied Shepard. "That Jedore bitch just would not shut up."

Donnelly chuckled, and turned around. "This'll do. We'll need to get a couple of lifters and some big lads, but we can do it."

Shepard clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. Make the calls, I'll send the shuttle back up to get what you need."

They began walking back towards the ramp.

"Sooo..." said Shepard, a little too casually, "How are things working out with Jack?"

"We have an agreement," replied Donnelly. "I ignore her completely, and she doesn't rip me head off. It works out for both of us."

Shepard pursed his lips. He ran one armored hand through his hair. "That's too bad. I was hoping she would start to become more social. Get out of her shell more. I keep telling her she needs to talk to people."

"See, Shepard," said Donnelly, as the two men headed back down the ramp, "you like helping people, and that's great. But you have to learn that there are some things you just need to let be."