Dreams of the River

 

The silence of the cockpit was a lie. Outside the UT-47 Kodiak shuttle, the atmosphere of the unnamed planet was screaming across the hull, a violent thermal embrace. Commander Elhana Shepard exhaled, her breath fogging the inside of her helmet briefly. It was supposed to be a simple recon drop—in, scan the unsettling energy readings in the Terminus systems, and out. Solo. Just how she liked it sometimes, away from the crushing weight of command, the politics of the Citadel, and the looming shadow of the Illusive Man.

"Normandy, this is Shepard," she keyed the comms, her voice raspy with fatigue. "Data secured. Coming in hot on vector four. Have Chakwas prep a stimulant package; I think I pulled something dodging that thresher maw last week."

Static hissed back. Then, Joker's voice, broken and frantic. "Commander! Read—ou have multiple bogeys on your si—reaking up! Shepard, abort! Abort vector!"

The proximity alarms screamed a split second before the impact. It wasn't a missile; it was an energy lance, pure and searing. It sheared through the Kodiak’s starboard engine wing like butter. The world became a centrifuge of fire and shrieking metal. Gravity stabilizers failed, slamming Elhana against her restraints. The viewport cracked, spiderwebbing a view of rushing green and brown canopy below.

"Mayday! Mayday! Going down in sector..."

The second impact killed the comms. The third took her consciousness.

3 Years Later

The search had never truly ended, but it had grown cold. The war against Cerberus ground on, consuming resources and attention, but the crew of the Normandy SR-2 refused to overwrite Commander Shepard’s status from "MIA" to "KIA."

It was EDI who found the anomaly. A faint, intermittent energy signature pulsing from a dense, uncharted jungle world in the Pangaea Expanse. It was the distress beacon of a Kodiak shuttle, buried under a year’s worth of tectonic shifts and aggressive flora growth. When the Normandy broke orbit, the mood was brittle. Hope was a dangerous thing to hold onto for three years.

"Ground team prep," Garrus Vakarian's voice was tight over the ship's intercom. He hadn't polished his armour in a week; the usual calming ritual wasn't working. "Liara, James, Javik—you're with me. EDI, keep the sensors sharp. If anything moves down there that isn't a tree, I want to know."

The landing site was a dense, humid rainforest that smelled of wet earth, crushing growth, and decay. The Kodiak was barely recognizable, a charred skeleton overgrown with purple vines thick as a krogan’s arm. Liara T’Soni scanned the cockpit debris, her biotics flaring softly blue as she levitated a crushed helmet. 

"The pilot seat is empty, Garrus. The restraints were sheared, not unbuckled. She didn't walk away from this easily."

"She's Shepard," James Vega grunted, shouldering his shotgun, his eyes scanning the dense treeline. "If anyone could crawl out of hell, it's the Lola."

Javik, the Prothean, knelt by the dirt, his four eyes narrowing. He touched the ground, his sensory abilities reading the environment. "There is a path here. Old. Frequently traveled by soft-soled feet. Not boots."

"Locals?" Garrus asked, his mandibles clicking nervously.

"Primitives," Javik confirmed, a hint of characteristic disdain in his tone, though muted by the situation. "Hunter-gatherers. The scent of woodsmoke is faint on the wind. North."

They moved out, silence hanging heavy between them.

The Lost is Found

The village emerged from the jungle haze like something out of a history vid. Dozens of structures made from bent saplings, covered in thick, cured hides and woven broadleaves, sat in a large clearing beside a rushing river. Thin trails of smoke curled from central fire pits. Children with skin painted in ochre patterns chased each other, their laughter a jarringly innocent sound against the grim determination of the Normandy crew. The arrival of four armoured figures froze the village. The laughter died. Men and women emerged from the huts, holding spears tipped with obsidian and bows strung with animal sinew. They didn't attack, but they formed a protective wall between the intruders and the children.

Garrus held up a hand, signaling his team to hold fire. "Easy. We're not here to fight."

A tall man with braided hair adorned with raptor feathers stepped forward. He spoke in a fluid, tonal language none of their translators recognized. Then, a woman emerged from the largest hut in the centre of the village.

Garrus felt his breath hitch. Liara gasped aloud. It was her.

It wasn't the N7 armour that defined her anymore. She wore a tunic of soft, tanned leather dyed a deep indigo, stitched together with intricate bone needles. Her red hair, once kept in a severe military bun, hung loose and wild to her mid-back, woven with small carved wooden beads and river stones. Her skin, always pale from life on a starship, was deeply bronzed and weathered by three years under a raw sun. A jagged, pale scar ran from her left temple down to her cheekbone—a souvenir from the crash.

But those eyes—that fierce, unwavering green—were unmistakable.

"Shepard," Garrus breathed, lowering his rifle completely.

The woman stopped. She looked at the armoured giants, her gaze wary, intelligent, but utterly void of recognition. Her hand rested on the hilt of a bone knife at her hip.

"Elhana," Liara stepped forward, her voice trembling. "Elhana, it’s us."

The woman tilted her head. She looked at the blue-skinned creature speaking a strange, clipped tongue. She felt a throb behind her eyes, a ghost of a headache that always came when she tried to look backward into the fog of her mind.

"Stay back," the woman said. Her voice was Shepard’s, but the cadence was slower, deeper, shaped by the native tongue she now spoke. It translated through EDI's algorithms with a delay. "You are... Sky-People. The elders spoke of the metal birds that scream."

"She doesn't know us," Vega whispered, horrified. "How can she not know us?"

"The crash," Liara murmured, her heart breaking. "Traumatic brain injury. Amnesia."

"Shepard, listen to me," Garrus tried again, his sub-vocal harmonics vibrating with desperation. "I'm Garrus Vakarian. This is Liara. We’re your team. Your family. We’ve been looking for you for 3 years."

The woman—Elhana—shook her head slowly. "I have no name like that. The River People found me broken in the burning metal. They named me Kael'na—Starlight That Fell."

As if to emphasize her point, two small figures darted out from behind her legs.

The Normandy team stared, stunned into silence.

A boy, perhaps three years old, with messy red hair and his mother's eyes, clung to her leg. A slightly younger girl, dark-haired like the native man who had first stepped forward, hid her face in Elhana's tunic.Elhana placed a protective hand on each of their heads. The tall native man moved to her side, placing a firm arm around her shoulders, his expression defensive. He glared at Garrus, speaking sharply to Elhana in their tongue.

Elhana responded softly to him, touching his chest to calm him.

"By the Spirits," Garrus whispered, the reality crashing down on him harder than any Cerberus destroyer. "She didn't just survive. She started over."

Liara stepped closer, tears shimmering in her large dark eyes. "Elhana... Kael'na. Please. You must remember something. The Normandy? The Alliance? The…?" the Reapers?"

At the word 'Reapers', a flicker passed over Elhana's face. A shadow of deep, primal dread that she didn't understand. She pressed a hand to her temple.

"Bad dreams," she murmured in the common tongue, struggling with the words. "Fire in the sky. Great metal squids that eat the stars." She looked at Liara, confusion warring with a buried instinct. "Why do I know your face, Blue One? Why does it make my heart hurt?"

"Because we are sisters in everything but blood," Liara pleaded, extending a hand. "Let me show you. Let me help you remember."

Elhana recoiled, pulling her children tighter. The native man, her mate, raised his spear.

"No," Elhana said firmly. "My place is here. With my mate, Tano. With my children, Jory and Elu. The before-time is smoke. This is real. The river, the hunt, the sun." She looked around at the simple village, a fierce love in her eyes. "This is peace. I never knew peace before the fall."

Javik finally spoke, his voice dry as ancient parchment. "The Commander has found a purity here that her previous life lacked. To remove her now would be another trauma."

"We can't just leave her here, Javik!" Vega snapped. "There's a war on! She's the only one who can stop it!"

"And that," Garrus said, his voice thick with self-loathing, "is why we have to take her back."

Garrus looked at Shepard—at Kael'na—living a life of simple hardship and profound connection that she had been denied her entire existence. A life she had built from the ashes of her trauma. And he knew he had to burn it down.

"Forgive me, Shepard," Garrus whispered. He tapped his omni-tool.

A high-pitched sonic pulse emitted from his armour. It wasn't harmful, but it was disorienting. The natives clapped hands over their ears, stumbling back. Tano dropped his spear, shaking his head.

"Grab her! Gentle! Vega, grab her!" Garrus ordered, hating himself.

Vega moved in, sweeping the confused and disoriented Elhana off her feet. She screamed, a raw, furious sound, thrashing against his armoured bulk.

"Tano! Jory!" she screamed, reaching back toward her family.

Her mate tried to charge, but Javik unleashed a gentle biotic throw, pushing the man backward into the dirt without harming him. The children were wailing, terrified.

Liara was crying silently as they retreated toward the extraction zone, the sound of Shepard’s screams tearing at her soul. Elhana fought like a wildcat, biting at Vega’s armour, cursing them in a language they didn't understand, her eyes full of betrayal and terror. As the shuttle lifted off, leaving the screaming village and the devastated family behind in the churning dust, Garrus refused to look out the viewport. He just watched Shepard, now sedated by a hypospray from Liara, slumped against the bulkhead. Her woven indigo tunic looked absurd against the metal hull. They had rescued Commander Shepard.

But Garrus knew, with a sickening certainty, that they had just killed Kael'na. And he wasn't sure which one was the greater tragedy.

The Horror

The medical bay of the Normandy SR-2 was a place of sterile white light and the rhythmic, artificial hum of life-support systems—a sensory nightmare for the woman who had spent the last years waking to the scent of damp earth and the warmth of a sun-drenched hut. When the sedative wore off, Elhana Shepard didn't wake up like a soldier. She woke up like a trapped animal.

"Tano!" she shrieked, her voice cracking as she bolted upright. She lunged off the bio-bed, her tanned skin clashing violently with the white sheets. "Jory! Elu!"

Garrus was there in a second, his hands raised. "Shepard, easy! You're safe, you're on the Normandy."

She didn't see a friend. She saw a monster—a creature of metal and scales that had stolen her from the river. She swung a fist with the raw, unpracticed desperation of a mother. It caught Garrus across the fringe, his mandibles clicking in surprise.

"Give them back!" she wailed, her eyes wild and bloodshot. She grabbed a tray of surgical instruments, upending them. Scalpels clattered onto the deck. "Where are my children? You demons! You Sky-Demons!"

"Commander, please!" Liara cried, hovering near the AI core door, her face pale. "We’re trying to help you!"

"Help?" Elhana’s voice dropped to a guttural, terrifying hiss. She backed into a corner, clutching her indigo tunic, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. "You tore me from my home. You left my children screaming in the dirt. You are not life. You are cold... you are metal and ghosts."

She began to sob, a deep, soul-wrenching sound that echoed through the deck. She sank to her knees, rocking back and forth, her fingers clawing at the deck plating as if trying to dig through it to reach the soil below. When Dr. Chakwas stepped forward with a fresh hypospray, Elhana snapped, lunging with teeth bared.

"I’ll kill you! I'll kill you all if you don't take me back!"

"Garrus, hold her!" Chakwas shouted, her voice trembling. "She's going to hurt herself!"

It took Garrus and a reluctant James Vega to pin her down. She fought with a strength that defied her frame, screaming names that weren't in any Alliance registry until the hiss of the sedative finally silenced her. As she went limp, the silence that followed was heavier than the screams.

Deck 2: The Quantum Entanglement Chamber

Kaidan Alenko stood in the centre of the blue-lit room, the holographic shimmer of Admiral Steven Hackett manifesting before him. The Admiral looked tired; the war with Cerberus was a relentless meat grinder, and the loss of the Alliance's greatest icon had been a blow they were only just beginning to recover from.

"Major Alenko," Hackett said, his voice gravelly. "I received your preliminary brief. You’re telling me you found her? After three years?"

"We found her, Admiral," Kaidan said, his throat tight. "But... it’s not what we expected. She was on a world in the Pangaea Expanse. Living with a primitive tribe. She’s... she’s gone native, sir. Completely."

Hackett leaned forward, his holographic brow furrowing. "Amnesia? Total?"

"Total. She doesn't know her name, her rank, or the Normandy. She’s married, Admiral. She has children. A boy and a girl." Kaidan paused, the weight of the next sentence nearly choking him. "We had to take her by force. The extraction... it wasn't a rescue. It was a kidnapping."

Hackett was silent for a long moment, his eyes closing briefly. When he spoke, his voice was a mixture of disbelief and a rare, sharp edge of disapproval.

"You took a mother from her children in front of her entire village? Major, I understand the importance of Commander Shepard to the war effort, but God... the psychological fallout of that alone... you’ve likely traumatized an entire culture, not to mention the Commander herself."

"We didn't see another way, sir," Kaidan said, his head bowing. "Cerberus cells are moving into that sector. If they found her first, they wouldn't have been 'gentle.' We had to bring her in."

"I know, Alenko. I know," Hackett sighed, his shoulders sagging. "But what’s done is done. Get her to Arcturus Station immediately. I'm clearing the highest-level medical clearance. We have the best neuro-specialists in the Alliance there. If there's a spark of the old Shepard left, they’ll find it. But until then... keep her sedated if you have to. I don't want her breaking her own heart before we even get there."

"Understood, Admiral. Alenko out."

Deck 3: The Mess Hall

The hum of the ship felt oppressive as Dr. Karin Chakwas walked into the crew dining area. The central table was occupied by the ghosts of the mission: Garrus, staring at his talons; Liara, tracing the rim of an untouched tea cup; and Kaidan, who had just come down from the comms room. Chakwas moved to the coffee dispenser. The machine hissed, a sound that usually meant comfort, but today it sounded like a funeral dirge. She filled a mug, the steam rising to meet her weary eyes, and sat down heavily across from Garrus.

"How is she?" Liara asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Chakwas stared into the black swirl of her coffee. "Physically? She’s remarkably healthy. Living in that environment has made her lean, strong. The scar on her head has healed well on the outside."

"And the inside?" Kaidan asked.

Chakwas finally looked up, and the look in her eyes made Liara’s breath hitch. "I’ve run three deep-tissue brain scans. The trauma from the crash wasn't just physical impact; it was a localized EMP from the shuttle’s core that fried her synaptic pathways. The parts of her brain that stored 'Elhana Shepard'—the N7 training, the Citadel, the years of service—are... they're gone."

"Gone?" Garrus growled, his voice cracking. "What do you mean 'gone'? You don't just lose Shepard. She’s too stubborn for that."

"The pathways are cauterized, Garrus," Chakwas said softly. "New ones have grown over them. For three years, her brain has been rewiring itself to survive, to learn a new language, to bond with a new family. To her, Tano and those children aren't just a life she 'found.' They are the only life she has ever known."

"Arcturus," Kaidan said, trying to find hope. "Hackett said the specialists there—"

"Will try to force her brain to fire old signals," Chakwas interrupted, her voice turning bitter. "They’ll use stimulants, neural-mapping, maybe even VI-assisted memory therapy. They’ll try to rebuild a soldier out of a woman who just wants to go home to her river."

She looked down at her mug again. The sterile lights of the mess hall reflected in the liquid.

"I’ve known Elhana since she first stepped onto the original Normandy," Karin whispered. "I’ve patched her up after more battles than I can count. I've seen her face down Sovereign and the Shadow Broker."

A single, hot tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek, splashing silently into her coffee.

"But I looked into her eyes just now, before I put her under. There isn't even a flicker of us left in there. She’s just... she’s Kael'na now. And I think we may have committed a terrible crime by bringing her back."

The table fell into a deafening silence, the only sound the distant, uncaring thrum of the Normandy's engines pushing them further and further away from the jungle world.

Keal'na Awakes

The Normandy was mid-transit, the blue tunnel of the relay jump shimmering outside the viewports like a ghostly veil. Inside the Med Bay, the air was heavy with the smell of antiseptic and unspoken grief. When Elhana—Kael'na—woke this time, she didn't scream. The fight had been drained out of her, replaced by a hollow, aching silence. Dr. Chakwas approached slowly, holding a tray with a glass of water and a protein wafer.

"Elhana? Can you hear me? You need to hydrate, dear," Karin said softly, her voice maternal and strained.

The woman on the bed didn't even turn her head. She stared at the bulkhead, her eyes tracing the rivets in the metal as if they were stars she didn't recognize. When Karin reached out to touch her shoulder, Kael'na flinched so violently the doctor stepped back.

"Please," Karin whispered. "We only want to help."

Kael'na remained silent until the doctor eventually retreated to her desk, burying herself in medical readouts. Seeing she was no longer the centre of attention, Kael'na moved. She slid off the bed, her movements fluid and silent, like a predator in the undergrowth. She stripped the blankets and pillows from her bed and the empty one beside it. Dragging them to the furthest corner of the room, behind the privacy screen and away from the door, she created a small, circular nest. It was a makeshift lodge, a sanctuary in a world of humming wires. She sat cross-legged, her back against the cold hull. From a small, hidden leather pouch at her waist—one the crew had missed during her frantic arrival—she drew a handful of vibrant, ochre-coloured sand. With trembling fingers, she began to pour it onto the deck plating, creating the jagged, circular sun-symbol of the River People. As she worked, she began to whisper, her eyes closed.

"Great River, flow through the dark. Tano, find me in the stars. Jory, Elu... wait for the Starlight to return."

The Arrival of Ashley Williams

The elevator doors hissed open, and Ashley Williams stepped onto the crew deck. She had just returned from a brutal solo mission on Benning, her armour scorched and her heart heavy. She had heard the rumours the moment she docked, that they’d found the Commander. She had showered and changed into her blue Alliance fatigues in a blur, her hands shaking so hard she could barely tie her boots. She didn't stop to talk to Garrus or Liara. She went straight to Med Bay.

"Ma'am?" Ashley's voice was hopeful, breathless. She stepped past Dr. Chakwas’s desk. "Elhana? Is it true? Are you really—"

She stopped dead.

The woman in the corner wasn't the Commander who had stood beside her on Virmire. She wasn't the woman who had defied the Council. She was a stranger, sitting on a pile of blankets in the dirt-coloured sand, looking small and lost.

"Commander?" Ashley whispered, stepping closer.

Kael'na snapped her eyes open. They were hard, green flint. "That is not my name! I am Kael'na! I don't know this 'Elhana' you seek!"

"Ash, it's me," Ashley said, her voice cracking. She knelt a few feet away, mindful of the sand circle. "It’s Ashley. Your sister. Your best friend. Look at me."

"I see a woman in blue cloth," Kael'na spat, though her lip trembled. "I see a thief who keeps me from my fire. I don't want to be your Elhana! I don't want the metal bird or the cold stars! I want to go home! Take me back to Tano! He is my heart! My children... they will be hungry. They will be crying."

"Elhana, listen to me," Ashley pulled out her omni-tool, her fingers flying across the holographic interface. "Look at this."

She projected a series of photos into the air between them.

Photo 1: Shepard and Ashley, covered in grime after the Battle of the Citadel, grinning at the camera.

Photo 2: A candid shot of Shepard laughing in the Normandy’s mess hall.

Photo 3: Ashley’s family—her sisters and her brother’s children—all smiling during a shore leave.

"You remember my sisters, El? You used to send them credits for school. You told me they were the reason we fought," Ashley pleaded, her eyes shimmering with tears. "And look at you. Look at how strong you were."

Kael'na looked. For a fleeting second, her breath hitched. Her gaze lingered on the photo of Ashley’s nieces and nephews. A ghost of a memory—not a thought, but a feeling of warmth—brushed against the back of her mind. Her hand reached out toward the hologram of the laughing Shepard, her fingers hovering near the light.

"Is... is that me?" she whispered in a voice so small it broke Ashley’s heart.

"Yes," Ashley sobbed. "That's you. The bravest woman in the galaxy."

The moment shattered. Kael'na pulled her hand back as if burned. The recognition vanished, replaced by a wall of sheer, terrified denial.

"No," she groaned, clutching her head. "No! That woman is a ghost! She is dead! I am Kael'na! I have a life! I have a soul that belongs to the River!"

She lunged forward, sweeping her hand through the sand, destroying the sun-symbol she had painstakingly built. "Go away! Leave me with my gods!"

Ashley reached out, trying to grab her hand. "Elhana, please—"

"I SAID GO!"

Kael'na retreated into her nest of blankets, turning her back to Ashley. She curled into a tight ball, pulling a pillow over her head to drown out the sound of the ship. Ashley stood there, her hand still reaching out into empty air. She looked at Dr. Chakwas, who was watching from the desk, a single tear tracking through the lines on her face. Ashley had never felt so helpless—not even when the nukes went off on Virmire.

Then, a sound rose from the corner.

It was low, rhythmic, and hauntingly beautiful. Kael'na was singing. It wasn't a song of war or a march. It was a lullaby—slow and melodic, filled with the sounds of a rushing river and a gentle wind.

"Flow, silver water, carry the sun...Sleep, little embers, the hunting is done...Father is watching, the forest is deep...Mother is holding you, sleep... sleep..."

Ashley staggered back a step, her hand over her mouth. In all the years she had known Elhana Shepard—through the grit, the blood, and the glory—she had never heard the woman sing a single note. Shepard was a soldier of steel and silence. But this woman, this Kael'na, sang with a voice that was pure raw emotion. It was the song of a mother who had lost everything, crooning to children she might never see again.

"She’s gone, Ash," Chakwas whispered from the shadows. "She really is gone."

Ashley didn't answer. She just turned and fled the Med Bay, the sound of the lullaby following her like a ghost through the halls of the Normandy.

The Heart Breaking Call

The lullaby didn't stay confined to the Med Bay.

EDI, perhaps moved by a burgeoning sense of empathy or simply fulfilling her role as the ship's monitor, had allowed the audio to bleed into the comms channels of the senior staff. It filtered through the speakers in the CIC, the Engineering deck, and the Mess Hall—a haunting, melodic thread of sound that seemed to pull the oxygen out of the room. In the Mess Hall, the atmosphere was funereal. Garrus sat with a half-disassembled sniper rifle, his hands uncharacteristically still. James Vega had a hand over his face, his broad shoulders hunched. Liara sat across from them, her eyes fixed on a data pad that she hadn't scrolled through in twenty minutes. The song faded into a soft, rhythmic humming before cutting out into the static of a closed channel.

"She never sang," Garrus said, his voice a dry rasp. "Not once. Not after the Citadel, not after the Collector base. I didn't even know she knew how."

"She didn't," Liara whispered. "That wasn't a song Elhana Shepard knew. That was a song Kael'na learned."

"It's wrong," James growled, slamming a fist onto the table, though the violence was muted by his grief. "Hearing her like that... she sounds like she's mourning herself. Like we’re the ones who killed her."

"Because you have," a cold, resonant voice interrupted.

They all looked up. Javik stood at the edge of the galley, his four eyes glowing with a strange, predatory intensity. He had been silent since the extraction, observing the "primitive" with a detachment that many found unsettling.

"You speak of 'rescue,'" Javik said, walking toward the table. "But you have merely raided a tomb. The Shepard you knew is a memory. A ghost. You have abducted a living woman to satisfy your longing for a dead one."

"She’s in there somewhere, Javik," Kaidan said, stepping into the room. He looked like he hadn't slept in days; the bags under his eyes were dark bruises. "The doctors on Arcturus—"

"Will tear her mind apart seeking a commander who no longer exists," Javik cut him off. He leaned over the table, his gaze sweeping over them. "In my cycle, when a warrior's mind broke, we honored the new soul that took its place. We did not force the vessel to carry a burden it had forgotten. This... Kael'na. Her spirit is tied to that river. To those small primitives. To take her from them is not an act of war. It is an act of cruelty."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

"Javik is right," Liara said, her voice trembling but certain. She looked at Kaidan. "I’ve spent my life studying the past, Kaidan. I know when something is truly gone. If we force her to be Shepard, she will spend the rest of her life in a cage—whether it’s a room or her own mind. She’ll hate us. And every time she looks at us, she’ll see the monsters who stole her from her children."

"We need her to fight Cerberus," James argued, though his heart clearly wasn't in it. "The Alliance... the whole galaxy looks to her."

"Then let them look to us instead," Garrus said, standing up. The metal of his armour clinked as he straightened. "If we’re the team she built, then we should be enough. Shepard gave everything to this galaxy. Everything. Don't we owe her the one thing she finally found for herself?"

Garrus looked at Kaidan. "Give her back her life, Kaidan. While there's still a life to give back."

Kaidan looked around the table. He saw the grief, the guilt, and the dawning realization on their faces. He knew what this would mean. He was the commanding officer. The responsibility—and the fallout—would be his alone.

"EDI," Kaidan said into the air.

"Yes, Major?"

"Reverse course. Set a heading for the Pangaea Expanse. Maximum burn."

"Understood, Major. Reversing thrust in five... four..."

The Normandy groaned as the massive Tantalus drive core shifted its output. The ship shuddered, the stars outside the viewports blurring into a chaotic smear of light as the frigate pulled a 180-degree turn in the vacuum of FTL.

The Quantum Entanglement Chamber

The holographic image of Admiral Hackett flickered into existence. He looked even more haggard than before, his uniform buttoned to the chin as he sat in the command chair of his flagship.

"Major Alenko," Hackett began, his tone formal. "I assume you’re nearing Arcturus. The medical teams are standing by—"

"Admiral, we’ve turned around," Kaidan interrupted. He stood at rigid attention, his hands clasped behind his back. "We are returning the Commander to the planet where we found her."

Hackett froze. For a long moment, the only sound was the hum of the entanglement array. "Major, I hope I misheard you. You are disobeying a direct order to bring the Alliance’s most vital asset to headquarters."

"She isn't an asset anymore, sir. She’s a mother. She’s a wife," Kaidan said, his voice steady even as his heart hammered. "I’ve reviewed Dr. Chakwas’s latest scans. The damage is irreversible without experimental procedures that would essentially be psychological torture. To 'bring back' Shepard, we would have to erase Kael'na. And I won't do that."

Hackett leaned back, his eyes narrowing. He looked past Kaidan, as if trying to see the rest of the crew. "And the others? Vakarian? T'Soni? Do they support this?"

"The decision is mine, Admiral. But yes. The senior staff is in unanimous agreement. We cannot save the galaxy by destroying the woman who taught us how to be human."

Hackett sighed, a long, weary sound that seemed to age him a decade. He rubbed his temples. "I’ve read Karin’s reports, Kaidan. I’ve seen the videos of the... the singing. Off the record? I think you’re doing the only decent thing left to do in this damn war."

His expression hardened again, the Admiral returning to his post. "But on the record, Major, this is a disaster. High Command is going to want blood. You’ve diverted a state-of-the-art warship and 'abandoned' the most famous soldier in human history. When you return to Arcturus—and you will return after she is dropped off—expect a full board of inquiry. You’re likely looking at a court-martial and the end of your career."

"I know, sir," Kaidan said, a small, sad smile touching his lips. "It’s a price I’m willing to pay. She’s worth it."

"She always was," Hackett murmured. "Get it done, Alenko. And may God have mercy on us all if Cerberus finds out she’s still down there. Hackett out."

The hologram flickered and died. Kaidan stood in the silence of the blue room for a long time, watching the empty space where the Admiral had been. He felt a strange lightness, a sense of peace he hadn't felt since the day they lost her three years ago. He walked out of the comms room and headed toward the Med Bay. He didn't want to tell her as a commander. He wanted to tell her as a friend.

Return to the River

The humidity of the jungle was the first thing she felt—a thick, living warmth that smelled of crushed ferns and damp moss. It was a stark, beautiful contrast to the recycled, sterile chill of the metal bird. Kael'na opened her eyes. Above her, the canopy of a massive shelter tree filtered the sunlight into dancing coins of gold. The rhythmic rush of the river, her river, sang a steady bass note that grounded her soul. She sat up slowly, her hand instinctively going to her head. The sharp, mechanical throb was gone, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves.

"I am home," she whispered, the words a prayer.

She looked down. Her head had been resting on a large, sturdy bag made of a strange, smooth fabric. Inside, she found the plush blankets and soft cushions she had used to build her sanctuary in the cold dark. There was no sign of the Sky-People—no hum of machines, no glowing blue lights. Just the forest. She stood, slinging the bag over her shoulder. Her legs felt heavy, but her heart was light. She followed the familiar scent of woodsmoke, pushing through the broad leaves until the clearing of her village opened up before her.

"Tano!" she cried out, her voice cracking with three year's worth of unshed tears.

A man at the edge of the clearing froze. He dropped the obsidian spear he was knapping, his eyes wide with disbelief. Behind him, two small figures emerged from a hut.

"Kael'na!" Tano’s voice was a roar of pure, agonizing joy.

He sprinted across the tall grass, catching her in an embrace that lifted her off her feet. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of smoke and sweat—the scent of her life.

"Mama! Mama!"

Jory and Elu collided with her legs, sobbing and laughing all at once. Kael'na sank to her knees, pulling her children into the circle of her arms, pressing her forehead against theirs.

"I am here," she sobbed, clutching them so tightly she feared they might vanish. "The stars tried to keep me, but the river brought me back. I will never leave you again. Never."

The Watchers

A few hundred yards away, hidden behind the dense screen of a ridge, four figures watched through thermal optics and sniperscopes. Garrus Vakarian lowered his visor, his mandibles twitching. He watched the woman he had loved as a sister—the woman who had saved his life a dozen times—laughing as a toddler smeared ochre paint on her cheek.

"Look at her," James Vega whispered, his voice thick. He stepped back from the ledge, unable to watch any longer. "She looks... she looks like she finally stopped carrying the world on her shoulders."

"She’s happy," Liara said softly. Tears tracked through the blue markings on her face, but she didn't wipe them away. "She’s not the Shepard who died for us. She’s the woman who lived for them. Goodbye, Elhana. Thank you... for everything."

Javik stood slightly apart, his four eyes fixed on the reunion. He saw the way the native man held her, the way the children clung to her indigo tunic. "The Prothean empire was built on duty," he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "But even the stars must eventually set. Let her have her peace. She has earned a rest that spans a thousand cycles."

Kaidan Alenko was the last to turn away. He looked at the woman in the clearing—the woman who didn't know his name, who didn't remember their shared history or the weight of the N7 on her chest. He knew that when he stepped back onto the Normandy, he was walking toward a court-martial and the end of his military life.

He didn't care.

"Safe journey, Commander," Kaidan whispered to the wind. "Live a long life. Forget us. Just... be happy."

He tapped his comm-link. "Joker. Extraction is complete. Bring us home."

The four of them moved back into the deep shadows of the jungle, leaving the sounds of laughter and the rushing river behind. High above, a faint shimmer in the clouds marked the Normandy’s departure—a falling star that Kael'na saw for only a moment before she turned back to her family, finally, truly, at peace.

The Tribunal

The high ceilings of the Arcturus Station tribunal chamber felt like they were pressing down on Kaidan Alenko. The air was cold, smelling of ozone and recycled oxygen—the literal opposite of the humid, living world he had left behind. Three admirals sat behind a raised mahogany dais, their faces grim. To his left, a court reporter’s terminal hummed.

"Major Alenko," Admiral Mikhailovich’s voice boomed, echoing off the marble. "By your own admission, you willfully disobeyed a direct order from the Admiralty. You diverted the most advanced stealth frigate in the Alliance fleet, and you effectively 'lost' the most important strategic asset in the war against Cerberus. And then, you ordered the ship’s AI to purge the planetary coordinates."

"I did, sir," Kaidan said, his voice level. He stood at perfect attention, his dress blues crisp, though his heart was elsewhere.

"The scans from Dr. Chakwas show a woman who was mentally incapacitated," a female Admiral added, her tone slightly more sympathetic but no less firm. "The Alliance could have provided care. We could have restored her."

"With all due respect, Admiral," Kaidan countered, "you would have restored a soldier by murdering a mother. I chose to save the person. Commander Shepard gave her life for us once already. I wasn't going to let us steal the one she found for herself."

The admirals conferred in hushed tones. The silence stretched, agonizingly long. Finally, Hackett, sitting in the centre, cleared his throat.

"Major Alenko, your record is exemplary. Your service during the Reaper threats—both the Geth incursion and the current Cerberus conflict—cannot be ignored. However, the chain of command must be absolute." Hackett paused, his eyes meeting Kaidan’s with a flash of unspoken pride. "Effective immediately, you are granted a non-punitive discharge from the Systems Alliance. You will retain your pension and your honours, but your commission is terminated. As for the coordinates... since they are 'lost,' we have no choice but to mark the Shepard case as closed."

Kaidan exhaled a breath he felt he’d been holding for months. He knew EDI had tucked those coordinates into a fragmented sub-sector of her memory banks—a "ghost in the machine" safeguard—but for the rest of the galaxy, Shepard was gone.

"Thank you, Admiral," Kaidan said. He snapped one last, perfect salute.

The Final Gathering

Back on the Normandy, the mood was bittersweet. The ship felt cavernous and quiet. The crew had gathered in the observation lounge on Deck 3, the large window showing the swirling nebulae of the Arcturus stream.

"So, that's it then?" James Vega asked, leaning against the library shelves. He looked down at a transfer order in his hand. "They're shipping me back to Earth to train recruits. They're breaking up the band."

"The Alliance doesn't like it when a crew becomes more loyal to their Commander than the flag," Garrus said, swirling a glass of turquoise turian brandy. He looked at Kaidan, who had swapped his uniform for a simple civilian jacket. "What about the rest of you?"

"I’m returning to the Flotilla for a while," Tali said, her voice muffled by a rare moment of sadness. "But I'll miss this. I'll miss her."

"Remember the first time we stepped onto the SR-1?" Liara asked, a small, nostalgic smile playing on her lips. "She was so intense. So focused. I thought she was the most terrifying woman I’d ever met."

"I remember her telling off the Council," Garrus chuckled, the sound vibrating in his chest. "Hanging up on them. She had that look in her eye—the 'don't-touch-my-people' look."

They spent the next hour trading stories. They talked about the Mako bouncing off mountains, the Citadel elevators, the quiet moments in the mess hall, and the way Shepard always knew exactly what to say when things were at their worst.

"I think about that song," Ashley said, sitting on one of the sofas, staring out at the stars. "The way she sounded. In all those years, through all those fights, I never knew she had that in her. That peace."

"It wasn't for us," Kaidan said softly. "That part of her was always there, I think. Just buried under the armour and the duty. We finally let it out."

The intercom crackled. "All personnel, prepare for final debarkation," Joker’s voice sounded scratchy, less joking than usual. "The new crew will be boarding in one hour. Clear your lockers."

Kaidan looked around at his friends. They were being scattered across the galaxy, and the Normandy would soon belong to strangers. But as he closed his eyes, he didn't see the cold halls of Arcturus or the stern faces of the admirals.

He saw Kael'na. He saw her kneeling in the grass, her children laughing as they chased a colourful bird, her mate’s hand resting on her shoulder. He saw the Starlight That Fell, finally resting in the cool water of the river.

"She’s happy," Kaidan said, more to himself than the others.

"Yeah," Garrus agreed, raising his glass in a final toast toward the window, toward a distant, nameless jungle world. "She is. And maybe that's the best victory we ever won."

As they stood up to leave, the crew of the Normandy didn't look like soldiers losing a leader. They looked like a family who had finally brought their mother home.

5 Years Later

The nights on the river were never truly silent. The air was a symphony of chirping night-insects and the rhythmic, low-thrumming croak of the marsh-frogs. It was a sound that breathed life. Kael’na sat on the smooth wooden bench outside her lodge, her back supported by the sturdy, hand-woven walls of hide and sapling. The embers of the central cooking fire had died down to a dull, comforting orange glow in the middle of the village. Inside the hut, she could hear the deep, rhythmic breathing of Tano, and the occasional soft mumble of Jory and Elu as they dreamed of tomorrow's fish-trap check.

She looked down at the tiny bundle in her arms. Little Mara, only three moons old, was latched contentedly to her breast, her small hand kneaded rhythmically against Kael’na’s skin. Beneath the indigo fabric of her tunic, Kael’na’s belly was heavy and firm with the next life growing within—a slow, warm pulse that matched her own heartbeat. The night air was cool, and for the first time in a long while, Kael’na looked up at the stars.

Usually, she avoided the Great Void. It was the place of the Sky-Demons, the place of the cold metal birds. But tonight, the sky felt different. It felt like a vast, dark ocean. As she stared at a particularly bright, flickering point of light, a sudden, sharp chill raced down her spine. A flash of something else flickered in her mind—not a dream, but a fragment of a different life.

She saw a flash of blue light. She felt the weight of something heavy and cold against her shoulder—not a child, but a tool of thunder. She heard a voice, gravelly and strange, calling her "Commander." She saw a face with blue skin and kind eyes, and another with scarred scales and a sharp, clicking laugh. Her breath hitched. For a heartbeat, the jungle disappeared. She felt the vibration of a deck beneath her feet, the hum of a starship’s heart. She remembered a name that wasn't Kael'na. It was short, sharp, and felt like a strike of lightning. Shep—

Mara gave a tiny, impatient squeeze to her breast, her small fingers curling tight. The memory shattered like glass hitting a stone floor. The metal world vanished, replaced by the scent of woodsmoke and the feel of the humid night breeze. Kael’na looked down at her daughter. She looked at her tanned, calloused hands—hands that knew how to skin a buck, how to weave a basket, and how to cradle a life. She felt the heavy, wonderful weight of her unborn child kicking softly against her ribs.

The "Commander" was a ghost. A shadow from a dream she no longer needed to understand. She shifted Mara slightly, pulling a soft wool blanket higher around the infant's shoulders. Kael'na began to hum, her voice merging with the sound of the river. It was the lullaby that had once haunted the halls of a ship she couldn't name, but here, it was simply a mother’s love.

"The fire is low, the shadows are long...

The river is singing our family's song...

Rest your head, little star of the plain...

You are home now, and safe from the rain..."

Mara settled, her eyes fluttering shut as she drifted into a deep, milk-drunk sleep. Kael’na leaned her head back against the hut, a tear of pure, uncomplicated happiness tracing a path down her cheek. The stars continued to watch from above, distant and silent. But Kael’na didn't look back up. She had everything she needed right there in the circle of her arms, grounded in the earth, far away from the wars of the sky.

The Nightmare Begins Again

The Cerberus facility was a jagged splinter of white-and-black geometry buried deep within the crust of a dead moon. It stank of ozone, sterile chemicals, and the unmistakable, metallic tang of blood.

The blast door buckled inward with a violent groan as a combined biotic and kinetic strike tore it from its hinges. Through the dust and swirling smoke, the "Mercs" moved with a lethal, practiced synchronicity that the Alliance would have envied.

"Clear left!" James Vega barked, his massive form filling the corridor as he laid down suppressing fire.

"Right clear. Javik, on the flank!" Kaidan Alenko commanded. He moved with a fluid grace, his omni-blade shimmering with a dangerous blue hue. Beside him, Garrus Vakarian—outfitted in customized, charcoal-grey armour—snapped off shots from his M-98 Widow with mechanical precision.

"C-Sec would’ve filed three years of paperwork before breaching this door," Garrus quipped over the comms, his mandibles twitching in a grim smirk. "I’m starting to like your business model, Kaidan."

"Keep your head in the game, Vakarian," Kaidan grunted. "Joker, how’s the exit looking?"

From the cockpit of The Shepard, a sleek, high-performance corvette currently cloaked and hovering a few klicks above the surface, Jeff "Joker" Moreau’s voice crackled in their ears. "Smooth as silk, Boss. But hurry it up. I’ve got Cerberus signatures popping up on long-range sensors. They’re not happy about you kicking in the front door."

They breached the final seal, a heavy blast door leading into the "Core Research" wing. The room was bathed in a haunting, flickering blue light from massive server banks.

In the centre of the room, the world stopped.

"By the Goddess," Liara whispered, her voice a hollow rasp.

Strapped to a vertical surgical table was Elhana Shepard. She wasn't the bronzed, healthy mother they had left on the riverbank. Her skin was a sickly, translucent pale, mapped with glowing blue lines of cybernetic integration. Wires—dozens of them—were stitched directly into her temples and the base of her skull, snaking up into a massive overhead computer array. Her body was twitching in rhythmic, violent spasms, her fingers curling and uncurling against the cold metal restraints.

Kaidan was at the table in a second, his hands hovering over the restraints, terrified to touch her. "Shepard? Elhana?"

Her eyes snapped open. They weren't green. They were a chaotic, shifting storm of amber and emerald, the pupils dilating and contracting with terrifying speed.

"The river..." she gasped, her voice a jarring overlay of two tones—one soft and melodic, the other hard and commanding. "Vector four... Jory, get down... N7... Tano, I’m home..."

"They’re merging them," Javik said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble as he seized a cowering scientist by the throat. The Prothean’s four eyes burned with ancient fury. "You have reached into her mind and stitched the ghost to the living. Why?"

The scientist, a pale man in a blood-stained lab coat, wheezed as Javik lifted him off the floor. "The Commander... the galaxy needed the symbol... but the neural pathways were too far gone. We had to use the biological template... the memories of the 'New Life' to bridge the gaps in the 'Old Life.' We’re making her whole!"

"You're making a monster!" Kaidan roared, his biotic field flaring so bright it cracked the nearby glass displays.

He didn't wait for the retrieval team. He keyed his long-range comms, bypassing every civilian protocol. "Get me Admiral Hackett. Priority Red. Now."

The SSV Everest

An hour later, The Shepard was docked in the massive bay of the SSV Everest, Hackett’s personal dreadnought. The Admiral stood in the medical observation deck, looking down through the glass at the woman on the bed. Elhana was unconscious now, sedated by Karin Chakwas, who had been flown in via emergency shuttle.

Kaidan, Garrus, and Javik stood behind Hackett, their armour still stained with the dust of the moon.

"I gave you a non-punitive discharge to keep you out of a cell, Alenko," Hackett said, his voice weary but sharp. "I didn't expect you to go and name a ship after her and start a private war."

"The galaxy is a messy place, Admiral," Kaidan replied, his eyes never leaving Shepard. "What did they do to her?"

"Cerberus calls it the 'Chimera Project,'" Hackett said, turning to face them. "They claim they found her six months ago. They wanted the hero back, but they couldn't scrub the 'Kael'na' persona without destroying the brain. So they forced them to coexist. They’ve turned her mind into a battlefield."

"This is an abomination," Garrus spat, his hand gripping the railing until the metal groaned. "She was happy. She was safe."

"Was she?" Hackett asked, his expression darkening. "That’s the question that’s kept me up since your report came in thirty minutes ago."

He tapped a console, bringing up a star map. A single green dot flickered in the Pangaea Expanse.

"Ten minutes ago, I dispatched the Normandy SR-2. Captain Elara Vance is in command," Hackett informed them. "They are on a high-burn vector to the planet. If Cerberus truly kidnapped the Commander, then the woman on that table is the woman we left behind, mutilated by Illusive Man’s science."

"And if they didn't?" Kaidan asked, his voice trembling.

Hackett looked back at the glass. "Then Cerberus didn't just merge two minds. They grew a new one. They grew a clone from the DNA samples they kept from the Lazarus Project and used the data they stole from your ship's logs to 'teach' it how to be Kael'na."

The room went cold. The implication hung in the air: either their friend was currently being tortured on an operating table, or she was still on her planet, blissfully unaware that a copy of her soul was being forged in a Cerberus lab.

"If that's a clone," Kaidan whispered, looking at the twitching form of Elhana Shepard, "then what happens to her?"

"We find out who she is first," Hackett said grimly. "And then, God help us, we decide who has the right to exist."

The Sky Falls

The descent into the Pangaea Expanse was usually a silent affair, but the atmosphere of the planet felt like it was weeping.

Captain Elara Vance adjusted the seal on her N7 hardsuit, her blonde hair pulled into a tight, practical knot beneath her helmet. At twenty-six, she was a prodigy—sharp, shapely, and possessed of a tactical mind that had catapulted her to the command of the Normandy. But as the shuttle doors hissed open, all her training failed to prepare her for the stench.

It wasn't just the humid rot of the jungle anymore. It was the acrid, biting tang of Cerberus-grade incendiaries and the heavy, copper sickly-sweetness of a massacre.

"Stay sharp," Vance whispered, her voice tight over the comms. "O'Niell, Costa—on me."

They moved through the treeline, their boots stepping over scorched ferns that had been blackened by flamethrowers. When they reached the clearing, the silence was more deafening than any explosion.

The village—the place of the "Starlight That Fell"—was a charred skeleton. The hide-covered huts had been shredded by mass accelerator rounds, the indigo dyes Shepard had loved now stained a dark, crusty brown. Bodies lay where they had fallen, scattered like discarded dolls.

"Goddess," Sergeant Costa breathed, her rifle lowering as she stared at the central fire pit. It was filled with ash and the remains of the village elders.

Vance walked toward the largest hut, her heart hammering against her ribs. She found them near the doorway. Tano lay across the threshold, his obsidian spear snapped in half, his body riddled with enough bullets to kill a krogan. He had died defending the entrance.

Inside, Kael’na’s family was gone. Vance knelt, her HUD recording everything. She saw the boy, Jory, and the girl, Elu. And then, her breath hitched. Tucked into a corner, wrapped in a burnt wool blanket, was the infant. Six months old.

"They didn't even leave the baby," Lieutenant O'Niell hissed, his fist clenching so hard his gauntlet creaked. "This wasn't a tactical extraction. This was a scorched-earth cleansing."

Vance stood up, her blue eyes icy with a cold, righteous fury. "Record it all. Every shell casing, every Cerberus insignia. I want the galaxy to see what 'Humanity First' actually looks like."

For three hours, the Normandy marines worked in grim silence. They dug graves by the river she had loved, marking the mounds with smooth river stones. Vance stood at the head of the row, her helmet off, the humid wind tossing her blonde strands as she recited the Alliance Prayer for the Fallen.

"May the Great River carry you home," she added in a whisper, a nod to the culture Cerberus had tried to erase.

The SSV Everest: Quantum Entanglement Chamber

Admiral Hackett stood in the blue light of the QEC, his face carved from granite as Captain Vance’s holographic image appeared. She looked exhausted, her armour stained with soot.

"Report, Captain," Hackett said.

"It's a graveyard, Admiral," Vance said, her voice shaking with suppressed rage. "The village is gone. Total casualties. We found the family... all of them. Cerberus didn't just take her; they murdered everyone she loved to ensure she had nothing to go back to. They wanted to kill 'Kael'na' so only the 'Commander' would remain."

"Understood, Captain. Return to the Everest immediately. We have a war to plan."

Hackett cut the connection and walked back into the Med Bay. Kaidan, Garrus, Liara, and Javik were gathered around the bed where the "Merged" Shepard lay. She looked better physically—the blue cybernetic lines were fading into her skin as her body integrated the tech—but she remained in a deep, medically induced sleep.

"Vance found the village," Hackett said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register.

He didn't sugarcoat it. He told them about the fires, the bullet holes, and the graves by the river.

"The baby too?" Liara whispered, burying her face in her hands.

"The baby too," Hackett confirmed.

"Those bastards," James Vega roared, kicking a metal stool across the bay. "They didn't just kidnap her! They tore her soul out and burned the remains!"

Kaidan leaned over the bed, looking at the woman who was both his oldest friend and a stranger. "She’s going to be destroyed by this," he said, his voice trembling. "When she wakes up... when she remembers the river and then remembers the fire... how is she supposed to live with that?"

"She won't just live with it," Garrus growled, his hand resting on the grip of his pistol. "She’ll hunt them. We all will. Cerberus thinks they’ve resurrected their greatest soldier. They don't realize they’ve just created their own executioner."

Javik stepped forward, his four eyes fixed on Shepard’s face. "The primitives are gone. The mother is gone. All that remains is the vengeance of a ghost. It is a feeling I know well."

"We end them, Admiral," Kaidan said, looking up at Hackett. "No more 'limited engagements.' We burn Cerberus to the ground. Every cell, every lab, every station."

Hackett nodded slowly. "If Shepard comes back to us whole—if she can bridge the gap between who she was and what they did to her—I have no doubt she will be leading the charge."

Kaidan looked at the bed, then back at Hackett, a small, grim grin touching his lips despite the tragedy. "You know, Vance won't be happy about that. She’s grown quite fond of that captain's chair. Elhana is going to want her ship back the second she can stand."

Hackett allowed a ghost of a smile to flicker across his face. "If Shepard wants the Normandy back, I’m not the one who’s going to tell her no. And I doubt Captain Vance would either. Not after what she saw down there."

He looked at the monitors. Shepard’s brain activity was spiking. The two worlds—the N7 and the River—were finally beginning to touch.

"Get ready," Hackett warned. "The Commander is coming back. And she’s going to be very, very angry."

The Neural Storm

The sterile silence of the Arcturus Medical Wing was shattered at 0300 hours by a sound that would haunt the staff for years. It wasn't a soldier's shout; it was a raw, jagged scream of a woman being torn in two from the inside out.

Dr. Karin Chakwas and Dr. Janet Fraiser were at the bedside in seconds. The monitors above the bio-bed were a chaotic light show of crimson and amber. Neural activity was spiking at levels that should have been fatal.

"Her synaptic pathways are firing in complete opposition!" Dr. Fraiser shouted over the alarm, her hands flying over the medical console. "The N7 engrams are trying to overwrite the Kael'na hippocampal structures. It’s a literal neuro-chemical war!"

"She’s seizing!" Chakwas grabbed a stabilizer. "Elhana! Elhana, stay with us!"

Shepard’s body arched off the bed. Her eyes were open, the pupils blown wide, flickering between the piercing focus of a tactician and the wild, wide-eyed terror of a forest dweller.

"The fire!" Shepard choked out, her voice a terrifying rasp. "Tano... get the children to the water... Normandy, evasive manoeuvres! Give me a target! JORY!"

She began to thrash, the heavy leather restraints creaking. She wasn't just remembering; she was reliving two lives at the exact same moment.

The Long Vigil

Kaidan Alenko arrived minutes later, his face pale, his civilian jacket thrown over a t-shirt. He didn't wait for permission; he moved to the head of the bed and took her face in his hands.

"Elhana! Look at me!" he commanded, his voice a steady anchor in the storm.

For the next four hours, the medical bay became a theater of agony. Kaidan never let go. He talked until his voice was raw. He recounted the mission to Virmire, the smell of the presidium hibiscus, the way she liked her coffee black, and the way she had once stayed up all night helping him calibrate his biotics.

"I know it hurts," Kaidan whispered, his forehead pressed against hers as she wept. "I know what they took from you. I saw the river, Elhana. I saw the home you built. You don't have to choose between them. You are both. You are the Commander, and you are the mother. Don't let Cerberus win by making you forget either one."

"They killed them, Kaidan," she sobbed, her voice finally settling into a singular, broken tone. "They were so small. Elu... she was just beginning to walk. Tano died in the dirt because of me. Because I was a 'symbol'."

The rage followed the grief. Her biotics flared, a dangerous, dark blue corona that made the medical equipment hum. "I will burn them. Every station. Every man in a white suit. I will find the Illusive Man and I will show him the fire he brought to my river."

The Observation Room

Admiral Hackett stood in the shadows of the darkened observation room, his silhouette reflected in the glass. Beside him stood two figures who looked painfully out of place in the high-tech military station.

Juliana Shepard, Elhana’s younger sister, stood with her hand over her mouth, her eyes red-rimmed. Beside her, twelve-year-old Elsbeth clutched a worn leather satchel to her chest, her eyes wide with terror as she watched her aunt writhe on the screen.

"What did they do to her?" Juliana whispered, her voice a ghost.

"They tried to rebuild a hero out of a woman’s heart," Hackett said, his voice heavy with a rare, raw disgust. "They forced her to remember everything she had lost while simultaneously forcing her back into the role of a soldier. She’s trapped between the life she had and the life they stole."

Juliana looked at the screen, where Kaidan was currently holding a sobbing Elhana as she screamed about the "River of Blood."

"She’s coming back, Juliana," Hackett said softly. "But she needs to know she has a home that isn't a starship."

Hackett led them into the room. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and the heavy weight of grief. Juliana rushed to the side of the bed, taking Elhana's hand, her tears falling onto the sterile sheets.

"El? It’s Jules. Please, sister. Come back to us. We’ve missed you so much. Mom misses you. The house is so quiet."

Elhana shifted, her eyes fluttering. "Jules? Is... is the garden growing?"

"Yes, the hydrangeas are huge this year," Juliana laughed through her sobs. "Remember how you used to hate weeding them?"

But the darkness of the "Merged" memories was still too strong. Elhana began to slip again, her face twisting as the image of the burning village fought the memory of the family garden.

That was when Elsbeth moved.

Ignoring Dr. Fraiser’s warning to stay back, the twelve-year-old climbed onto the edge of the bio-bed. She sat cross-legged next to her aunt’s hip, pulling a battered, physical photo album from her bag.

"Look, Auntie El," Elsbeth said, her voice clear and unafraid.

She opened the book to the first page. It was a printed photograph—grainy but full of life. It showed a younger Elhana, dressed in an old Alliance hoodie, holding a tiny Elsbeth’s hand as they walked toward a brick elementary school.

"This was my first day of kindergarten," Elsbeth said. "You flew all the way from the Citadel just to walk me there. You told me if anyone picked on me, I should tell them my aunt was a Spectre."

She flipped the page. A photo of a chaotic backyard party. Elhana was bright red in the face, squinting as she tried to tie a knot in a giant yellow balloon while children swarmed around her.

"You blew up sixty balloons by yourself because the pump broke," Elsbeth giggled, a tear finally escaping her eye. "You said it was 'good for your lung capacity'."

She flipped to a final photo. Elhana was kneeling on a sidewalk, a look of intense, concentrated focus on her face as she carefully applied a bright pink bandage to a young Elsbeth’s scraped knee. A bicycle lay discarded in the grass behind them.

"I fell off my bike," Elsbeth whispered. "I was crying so hard. You didn't tell me to 'suck it up' or 'be a soldier.' You just kissed the bandage and told me that even the best pilots crash sometimes. You told me it was okay to hurt."

Elhana’s breathing hitched. She stared at the photos—at the version of herself that wasn't a hero, wasn't a primitive, and wasn't a victim. She saw the woman who loved her family.

The two fractured halves of her mind finally found their bridge. It wasn't a military record, and it wasn't the tragedy of the river. It was the simple, quiet humanity of a woman who cared about balloons and scraped knees.

Tears began to stream down Elhana’s face—not tears of agony, but of release. She reached out with a trembling hand, stroking Elsbeth’s hair.

"I remember," she whispered. "I remember the pink plasters."

She sat up slowly, pulling Elsbeth into a deep, crushing hug. She buried her face in the girl’s shoulder and wept—a long, agonizing purge of all the horror she had endured.

"I've got you, Auntie El," Elsbeth whispered, holding on tight. "I've got you."

Slowly, the tension left Shepard’s body. The biotics faded. The monitors returned to a steady, rhythmic pulse. Held by her niece and her sister, with Kaidan watching from the foot of the bed, Elhana Shepard fell into a deep, quiet, and truly restorative sleep for the first time in thirteen months.

Preparing for the Future

The observation room was cast in a dim, cool blue light, a sharp contrast to the harsh, clinical brightness of the physiotherapy gym below. Behind the thick pane of one-way glass, Admiral Hackett stood as if carved from the very station’s hull, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. Beside him, Kaidan Alenko and the remnants of the mercenary crew—Liara, Tali, and Javik—watched in a silence so heavy it felt tangible.

Below, the gym was a sprawling landscape of chrome weights, resistance cables, and high-velocity treadmills. James Vega, dressed in a sweat-soaked tank top, stood near a squat rack where Elhana was working. She was pushing through a set of heavy lifts, her muscles roping and straining under skin that was still regaining its healthy, tanned luster.

Every time she exhaled, the sound hissed through the room's intercom—a sharp, rhythmic reminder of her grit. Her movements were a strange, haunting hybrid; she possessed the disciplined, explosive power of an N7, yet there was a fluid, predatory grace in how she balanced her weight, a remnant of all the years spent navigating the uneven roots and slippery riverbeds of the jungle world.

The door to the observation deck hissed open with a hydraulic sigh. Captain Elara Vance stepped in, her blonde hair catching the blue light. She looked tired, the weight of commanding the Normandy in a galaxy that felt like it was fracturing at the seams etched into the corners of her eyes. She moved to the back of the room, pouring a cup of dark, bitter coffee from the silver pot.

She took a long, hot swig, the steam swirling around her sharp features. A small, sarcastic smile twisted her mouth as she stepped up to the glass, her gaze fixing on the woman below.

"She’s going to want her ship back, isn't she?" Vance asked, her voice cutting through the hum of the monitors. It wasn't a question born of malice, but of a professional who knew she was currently sitting in a dead woman's chair—and that the woman was no longer dead.

The corner of Hackett’s mouth twitched, a micro-expression of amusement or perhaps deep-seated anxiety. He didn't turn his head. "She hasn't made any requests yet, Captain. And we haven't pushed. Between the reconstructive neural counselling, the intensive physiotherapy, and the... the grieving process, we are focusing entirely on getting her as ready as possible."

"Ready for what, Admiral?" Kaidan asked quietly, his eyes never leaving Elhana as she transitioned from the weights to a heavy bag, her strikes landing with bone-deep thuds. "She’s recovering, but she’s not the same. Even if she says she wants to come back to the Normandy, the Alliance made sure there was nothing to come back to. You broke up her crew. You scattered the people she trusted to the four winds while she was 'dead.' You treated her legacy like a surplus inventory."

Hackett shifted his weight, the leather of his shoes creaking. "Military necessity, Kaidan. With the Commander gone, the SR-2 needed a new purpose. We couldn't leave the galaxy's most advanced ship sitting in dry dock as a museum piece."

"It wasn't a museum piece," Tali chirped from the shadows, her environmental suit glowing softly. "It was her home."

At the back of the room, leaning against a darkened console, Garrus Vakarian finally spoke. He had been so still he might have been a statue. His sub-vocal harmonics were low, but his voice carried with a resonant, dry authority that silenced the room instantly.

"Everything you’re 'deciding' here... every plan you're making for her, every Captain's chair you're worrying about... it all depends on one assumption," Garrus said, his blue visor flickering as he looked toward the glass. "You assume Shepard wants to return to the Alliance at all."

Vance turned, her coffee cup halfway to her lips. "She’s an N7, Vakarian. It’s in her blood."

"No," Garrus countered, pushing off the console and walking toward the window. "What’s in her blood is loyalty. And she gave that loyalty to a family that was murdered while the Alliance looked the other way. She gave her life once for this galaxy, and when she finally found a piece of heaven, Cerberus turned it into a slaughterhouse using Alliance-born tech."

Garrus stood next to Kaidan, his reflection overlapping with Elhana’s image in the gym below.

"She has every right to wake up tomorrow and tell us all to go to hell," Garrus continued, his voice dropping to a somber, chilling pitch. "She might just decide to walk away. To take her sister and her niece and disappear into the colonies. After what she's been through—the crash, the river, the fire, and the lab—would any of you blame her if she never wanted to see a uniform again?"

The room fell into a deafening silence. Down below, Elhana had stopped hitting the bag. She was standing still, her chest heaving, sweat dripping from her chin onto the mat. She looked small in the centre of the vast gym, a lone figure silhouetted against the bright lights.

She turned her head slightly, her gaze drifting toward the one-way mirror. For a terrifying second, it felt as though she was looking directly through the glass, straight into their souls, judging the plans they were making for a life that was no longer theirs to command.

Hackett didn't answer Garrus. He couldn't. He simply watched as James Vega handed Elhana a towel, and the woman who had saved the galaxy turned her back on the glass, walking toward the shadows of the locker room with the heavy, tired tread of a ghost.

The lights in the medical suite had dimmed to a soft amber hue, signifying the station's "night" cycle. Elhana sat at the small, sleek desk, her damp hair clinging to the collar of a thick, cream-coloured robe. The warmth of the fabric was a small mercy against the chill of the station's air conditioning.

She took a steadying breath and keyed the terminal. It wasn't an Alliance frequency she dialed; it was a direct, encrypted line to the heart of the ship she still felt in her bones.

The holographic interface flickered, and EDI’s stylized avatar appeared. The AI’s glowing eyes softened—a subtle shift in her programming that spoke volumes of her evolution.

"Commander," EDI said, her voice smooth but carrying a distinct weight. "I am... surprised to receive a call at this hour. My sensors indicate you should be in a REM cycle."

"I couldn't sleep, EDI," Elhana said, her voice tired.

"I understand. I wish to offer my formal condolences on the loss of your family, Elhana. And the loss of the village. My processors have found it difficult to categorize the efficiency of Cerberus's cruelty in this instance."

"Thank you, EDI. That’s actually why I called." Elhana leaned forward, her hands clasped tightly. "I need you to show me the footage. The recordings Captain Vance and her squad made when they found the settlement."

EDI paused. The light in her avatar pulsed slowly. "Commander, I have reviewed that data. It is highly distressing. Dr. Chakwas has explicitly noted in your file that traumatic visual triggers should be avoided during this stage of your neural integration. I do not believe it is a good idea."

"EDI, listen to me," Elhana said. As she spoke the next words, the cadence of her voice shifted. The crisp, military clip faded, replaced by the melodic, tonal lilt of the River People. "Kael'na needs to see," she whispered. "I was stunned when they took me. My mind was a storm of smoke and screaming. If I do not see the truth of their end, I will always be waiting for them to walk through the door. I cannot say goodbye to ghosts."

A long silence followed. Finally, EDI sighed—a sound that was remarkably, hauntingly human. "I am recording a minor glitch in my logic subroutines to justify this, Elhana. This is... not a good idea."

The Truth of the River

The terminal screen darkened, then flickered to life with the grainier, high-contrast feed of an N7 helmet-cam. Elhana watched in silence as the Normandy squad moved through the blackened ferns.

Tears began to track down her cheeks the moment the clearing came into view. She saw the charred remains of the weaver's hut. She saw the broken spears. Then, the camera turned toward the largest lodge.

"Stop," Elhana choked out. "Pause there."

The image froze. Tano was visible, slumped across the threshold in a final, defiant act of protection. In the corner of the frame, the edge of a burnt wool blanket—the one that had held Mara—peeked out from the debris.

Elhana’s breath came in ragged, wet sobs. She reached out, her fingers trembling as she touched the cold glass of the terminal, tracing the outline of her husband’s shoulder.

"Goodbye, my loves," she whispered, her voice breaking completely. "The river was short, but it was beautiful. I will join you down the stream when the time comes. I promise. But not yet. Not yet."

She leaned her forehead against the screen, letting the grief wash over her until her eyes were burned red. "EDI... save that frame to a datachip. Encrypt it. Send it to the room's dispenser."

"Done," EDI said softly. "Commander... should I alert Dr. Chakwas? Your heart rate is dangerously elevated."

"No," Elhana said, wiping her face with the sleeve of her robe. "I'm okay. I just needed to know."

A Song for the Stars

The small metal dispenser at the side of the desk whirred, ejecting a small, silver datachip. Elhana picked it up with reverence. She produced a simple, sturdy chain from the desk drawer—the right length so the chip would rest exactly over her heart.

She fastened it around her neck, feeling the cold weight of the metal settle against her skin. It was an anchor. A reminder.

She walked to the bed and lay down, refusing to trigger the "sleep" cycle of the room's lights. She turned on her side, staring out the reinforced viewport at the distant, uncaring stars. They were the same stars that had watched over the river.

In the silence of the room, she began to sing. It was a low, fragile sound, her voice catching on the lyrics she had crooned in a grass hut and a sterile med-bay alike.

"Flow, silver water, carry the sun...

Sleep, little embers, the hunting is done...

Father is watching, the forest is deep...

Mother is holding you, sleep... sleep..."

She sobbed once, a sharp, hitching sound, but she didn't stop. She forced the melody out, a bridge between the woman who led fleets and the woman who had loved a hunter.

"The fire is low, the shadows are long...

The river is singing our family's song...

Rest your head, little star of the plain...

You are home now, and safe from the rain..."

Gradually, the tension left her body. Her hand clutched the datachip over her heart, her knuckles white, until finally, her grip loosened. Her breathing evened out, becoming the slow, deep rhythm of a restorative sleep.

On the terminal, the blue light of EDI’s interface flickered one last time.

"Goodnight, Kael'na," the AI whispered.

The channel closed, leaving the room in a peaceful, starlit silence.

The Briefing

The air in the briefing room felt different—less like a hospital ward and more like a war room. The hum of Arcturus Station’s power grid vibrated through the floor, a constant reminder of the sprawling military machine surrounding them.

Kaidan Alenko stood as the doors hissed open, his dark combat trousers and black jacket marking him as an outsider to the pristine Alliance uniforms, yet his salute to Admiral Hackett was crisp and instinctive.

Sitting at the table, Elhana Shepard didn’t look up immediately. Her fingers were a blur across the glass of her datapad. She was wearing her old N7 leather jacket—the one with the deep red stripes down the sleeves. It was more than just a piece of clothing; to her, the weight and warmth of the leather felt like Tano’s embrace, a tactile shield against the sterile cold of the station.

Captain Vance entered behind Hackett, carrying four steaming cups of coffee. She looked like she hadn't slept in forty-eight hours, her eyes sharp but weary. She set the cups down with a rhythmic clatter.

Shepard took a sip, the heat grounded her. She glanced up, noticing Kaidan still standing at rigid attention. She let out a sharp, exasperated huff—a sound so quintessentially "Shepard" that a genuine smile broke across Kaidan’s face.

"Park your butt, Major," Elhana commanded, her voice regaining that old, effortless authority. "I’m not going to put my neck out every time I want to talk to you. Jeez."

The tension in the room snapped. Hackett let out a sudden, hearty burst of laughter, and even Vance offered a tired chuckle as a flustered Kaidan sank into his chair, hands raised in surrender.

"Ok, ok," Kaidan muttered, grinning. "I'm sitting."

The Handover

The room quieted as Vance leaned forward, her hands wrapped around her coffee mug. She looked Shepard dead in the eye.

"You want the SR-2 back, don't you?" It wasn't an accusation; it was the resignation of a soldier who knew when they were standing in the shadow of a legend.

Shepard didn't blink. A flash of raw, hungry desire crossed her face—the Normandy was the only home she had left in the stars. But then her gaze softened, and she looked at Hackett.

"I won't lie," Elhana said, her voice steady. "I would love to be back at the helm. But I won't steal her from you, Captain. I will only assume command with your blessing." She looked down at her hands, which had begun to tremble slightly. "I, of all people, know the hurt of having something—or someone—you love taken from you against your will."

The silence that followed was heavy with the ghost of the river. Vance cleared her throat, her expression shifting to one of profound respect.

"Admiral Hackett," Vance said, standing straight. "If it pleases Alliance Command, I request a transfer to another post. If she’ll have it, I appoint Commander Elhana Shepard as my replacement."

Hackett nodded, his expression unreadable for a moment before he broke into a small, appreciative smile. "Accepted, Captain. You’ve served with distinction. You aren't being sidelined, Elara." He slid a datachip across the table. "This contains orders for the SSV Dauntless. She’s the first of her class, currently at Newport News. You’ll be taking her through her shakedown."

Vance’s eyes widened. A new class of ship was the ultimate prize for a Captain. "Thank you, Admiral. I’ll begin the handover immediately."

The Price of Return

Shepard squared her shoulders. The "Kael'na" side of her was quiet now, watching as the "Commander" took the lead.

"I have conditions," Shepard said. "I want my crew back. Every single one of them, if they’re willing to return. And I want a blank check. No Council red tape, no Alliance bureaucracy. I am going to burn down the Illusive Man’s house around him, and I want to put a round through his head."

Vance blinked at the sudden, terrifying fire in Shepard’s eyes. This wasn't just a soldier; this was an avenger.

Hackett rose from his chair and walked to the massive viewport. Below them, bathed in the floodlights of the docks, sat the sleek, white-and-blue silhouette of the Normandy SR-2. He turned back, his face set in stone.

"Elhana Shepard, step forward."

Shepard stood at attention. Hackett reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He flipped it open to reveal the bars of a higher rank.

"Welcome back to the Alliance, Captain Elhana Shepard."

He extended his hand. Shepard shook it firmly, the weight of the new rank settling on her shoulders. Kaidan stood, offering a heartfelt "Congratulations, Captain," while Vance echoed the sentiment.

"Admiral," Shepard said, her voice dropping into a gentle, vulnerable tone that made everyone freeze. The lilt of the river was back. "I need a moment with you. Alone."

The Final Will

Kaidan and Vance stepped out, the door hissing shut behind them. Elhana picked up her datapad and handed it to Hackett.

"This is my final will and testament, Admiral," she whispered. "My most important request is that... on my death... I be buried with my husband Tano and my children by the river."

Hackett saw the faraway look in her eyes—the image of a sun-drenched bank and a silver stream. He took the pad with a solemn nod. "I will see it done, Elhana. You have my word."

He placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a supportive squeeze. "Now, you have one final medical clearance to get. And I’d hurry if I were you—Vance doesn't like to hang around her old ship when a new one is waiting."

Elhana offered a small, weary smile. As she walked toward the door, she felt the datachip around her neck—the one with the image of her family—resting against her heart. She was a Captain of the Alliance again, but she was still a woman of the river. And for the first time since the fire, she felt at peace with both.