Once she and her two companions were safely away from the Normandy, anonymous in the bustle of Zakera Ward, Shepard gave a sigh of relief. For the first time since she had opened her eyes on that table, Cerberus wasn't watching.

Garrus cleared his throat. "So, Commander, what's our real mission?"

Shepard raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean, Garrus?"

"Picking up supplies for the Normandy's kitchen? You don't need my expertise for that, or hers." He nodded at Dr. Chakwas. "If you're taking us along, I figure that the mission involves someone being shot in the head, and someone else needing medical attention. Unless it's that we're planning on providing whoever I shoot in the head with medical attention."

Shepard's lips turned up in a smile, bringing a painful prickling sensation to her cheeks. Apparently, her new body hadn't had enough experience with the expression. "Sorry to disappoint you, but this really is just a shopping trip."

"Personal shopping really isn't my expertise, Shepard," Garrus protested. Chakwas stayed silent, but her amusement showed in her twinkling eyes.

"All right," Shepard allowed. "I brought you along for two reasons. First, I just need to spend some time with people I trust. People who will watch my back, who I knew from before, who ..." She lowered her voice. "... aren't Cerberus."

Chakwas frowned. "I have gotten to know many of the crew, Commander. They are genuinely good people who want to do what's right."

"Maybe they are," Garrus interjected, sounding weary, "but they're taking orders from people who aren't."

"Exactly," Shepard said. "When it comes down to it, some of 'my crew' will side with Cerberus, and I don't know yet who that's going to be. And until I do, I have to keep my guard up."

Chakwas was still frowning. "When it comes down to it? Are you saying a clash is inevitable?"

Shepard and Garrus both stopped walking. Shepard was no expert on turian facial expressions, but was pretty sure the position of his mandibles signaled skepticism. She turned to Chakwas, her voice quiet but intense. "The Illusive Man and his organization cannot be trusted. Garrus and I have seen the atrocities they've been responsible for. For now, we are working with Cerberus because we need their resources. We can't count on any support from the Council. They were damn clear about that." Anderson had made it even clearer… but she couldn't dwell on that now. Her trust in these two was absolute, but this pain was one she couldn't share.

"But while we need Cerberus, we cannot afford to forget who we're dealing with." She knew very well that she could not afford to forget it. And damn, Cerberus had gone out of their way to help her forget, staffing the ship with the most idealistic, likeable, familiar faces the Illusive Man could find. Which could backfire on him, if I can win the crew's loyalty.

"There was a second reason?" Garrus asked, bringing Shepard back to the moment.

"This one's a little embarrassing," she admitted. "I want to find a gift for Liara, and this seems like the best chance. But I don't quite know what I'm looking for."

Garrus shuffled his feet. Shepard thought he looked like he'd rather face another army of mercs, gunship included. "Shepard, picking out gifts is even less my area of expertise. And I haven't heard from Liara in years. I don't even know where she is."

"She's on Illium," Shepard said. "The Illusive Man gave me that much, at least." No need to mention his evaluation of Liara's trustworthiness.

"Does that mean Illium will be our next stop?" Chakwas asked.

Shepard frowned. "No. I've certainly given it some thought. Liara could be very helpful against the Collectors." Her companions seemed reluctant to meet her gaze. She knew they were perfectly aware that she had another reason. "But Cerberus hasn't directed us to Illium. If I order the ship there, that order might well be countermanded. That would mean a confrontation before we're ready. I have to wait this out."

Garrus tapped absently on his omnitool, and then his eyes abruptly lit up. "Maybe I can help after all. There was a store in Zakera Ward that specialized in gifts for asari – Fit for a Matriarch, that was the name. In CSEC, we used to call it 'Fit for the Consort' because half their sales wound up there. We were pretty sure that Sha'ira's acolytes sold most of them right back to the shop. Anyway, according to this, they're still in business. They might have something that would be right for Liara."

"Lead on, Vakarian," Shepard ordered.

They found the shop where Garrus remembered it, prominently positioned on Level 30. The front windows were filled with glittering, ostentatious pieces of jewelry. Shepard glanced at the prices and fingered her credit chip nervously. Maybe there's something less expensive in back. She stepped into the store and was immediately approached by an asari clad in a glimmering blue gown.

The asari tightened her lips as she looked over Shepard and her two companions. "Can I help you find something?" she asked.

Shepard looked over the store as intently as she would survey a battlefield. More jewelry, perfume, cosmetics, flowers made of glass – nothing she would give Liara without an accompanying apology. "I'm looking for a gift," she muttered.

"Ah, of course." Shepard wondered how long the asari had practiced to master that slightly condescending sneer. "Can you tell me something about the asari you're shopping for?"

Where to begin? "She's an archaeologist. She likes... old things, I guess? Prothean artifacts and the like? But I'd also like to get her something personal. Something that represents... what I think of her." Please don't ask me what that is, I feel awkward enough already. She gave thanks that Garrus and Chakwas were browsing the shelves and couldn't hear her stammering.

"I see." The asari motioned her toward a shelf. "Perhaps one of these vases? They are one-of-a-kind items made by the master crafter Alsia many of your lifetimes ago. We can add a custom plaque to express your particular feelings."

The sweeping curves and rainbow patterns of the vases were almost mesmerizing. She found herself holding her breath, fearing that a puff of air might shatter one or all. Beautiful, graceful, and fragile. Well, Liara is certainly beautiful. She thought back on her memories of Liara. The endearing awkwardness, the strength she had lent Shepard when the Normandy was grounded, her yelling at Ashley, of all people, to get up and keep moving. Graceful and fragile are not good fits. Besides, the only art she'd known Liara to express an interest in was Prothean. She shook her head.

"Well. These statuettes are believed to date back to the Prothean era, and are also quite lovely," the asari continued.

Shepard saw the price and looked away. Better not bump into one of these shelves, or I'll have to pawn the Normandy to pay damages. "It's way out of my price range."

"I see. In that case, perhaps your asari friend will appreciate a more… useful gift? We have a wide selection of the finest asari skin-care products to keep her soft and supple. Or... numerous products specifically intended for bedroom use. As you know, many asari have had a great deal of experience and crave variety."

Shepard's hand was on the control for her tactical cloak before she curbed the impulse to make a quick escape. "I'll just look around, if that's all right."

"Of course. Please let me know if I can help with anything." She withdrew a few paces, keeping a careful eye on Shepard as if she might start smashing or pocketing the objets d'art at any moment.

Shepard glanced around the store again and realized that every asari she saw was wearing a "Fit for a Matriarch" name tag. The customers included a few volus, an elcor, a hanar, a turian, a batarian, and her own team. Do they even sell things that asari want? Or things that other races think asari want? Her gaze fell on Garrus, who was drumming his fingers anxiously on a shelf as the asari speaking to him gestured at a display of lingerie. Time for a rescue mission.

"I think we should go, Garrus," she said. "I'm not going to find what I'm looking for here."

She expected Garrus to be relieved, but instead he dropped his head, and his voice was stricken. "I'm very sorry, Commander. I should have thought..."

"Garrus." His extreme reaction was a shock. Had the strain been worse on him that she'd realized? She made herself smile, trying to banish her own frustration and worry. "It's all right. You haven't..." Let me down. Damn, of course he's sensitive there. His entire squad, gone. The scars I can see aren't the worst ones. "It's all right," she repeated.

Chakwas joined them, frowning. "You certainly know Liara better than I do, Shepard, but if I may give my opinion? I don't think you'll find her gift here."

Shepard nodded. "Let's make a tactical withdrawal."

"We can go look somewhere else," Garrus ventured. Shepard thought he would sound happier proposing a suicidal charge against a fortified enemy position.

She shook her head and handed him a datapad and the Cerberus credit chip. "We still need to pick up some supplies for Sergeant Gardner. Would you take care of this, and the doctor and I will keep looking? Oh, and be sure to pick up rations for yourself, too. Gardner probably has no idea what you need."

Garrus took the credit chit with evident relief. "I'll take care of that, Commander."

As Shepard and Chakwas worked their way down from floor to floor, the shops and their merchandise became a blur. She saw more fishes and model ships than she'd ever wanted to; they seemed particularly popular this season. What would Liara do with a fish? I guess I could throw in a giant fish tank. What was Cerberus thinking, that I needed more lives to be responsible for? Shepard's gaze passed over hundreds of trinkets, holovids, clothing, games, novelties, delicacies… By the time they reached the fourth floor, she was brimming with frustration.

"Nothing is right," she complained to the doctor, with an uncomfortable sense that she sounded like a whiny child. It's been a long day, and I'm no more a shopper than Garrus.

Dr. Chakwas's look was patient but penetrating. "Exactly what kind of gift are you looking for, Shepard? Something that will tell Liara how much she means to you, how much you've missed her, how delighted you are to see her again?"

"That sounds wonderful," Shepard said.

"You're going to have to tell her those things yourself. Or give her a recording of you saying those things, but I doubt that's what you have in mind."

"I know that. But I want it to be right." Shepard felt herself flushing. I am being ridiculous, here.

Chakwas gave her a sympathetic smile. "I'm certainly willing to cover the last few floors, Commander."

They continued down to the third floor. Shepard was in the process of dismissing a display full of elcor jewelry when she saw Chakwas vigorously waving her arms from across the hall. She rushed to the older woman's side and saw what had drawn her attention – an unlit sign labeled only "Antiquities." She stepped into the shop. The proprietor, a stooped and wrinkled human who seemed an antiquity himself, briefly nodded at her. He turned back to contemplating a ledger lying open on the counter – no automated kiosks here.

The shop's wares were strewn about in an apparently haphazard manner. Most of them appeared to be human artifacts from the twenty-first century. Shepard winced at the idea of presenting Liara with an "antiquity" that was younger than she was. Here and there she saw more "vintage" items from the twentieth century, but somehow she doubted that a Campbell's Soup can or an I Like Ike pin would hold much interest for Liara. Besides, Liara would probably ask who Ike was and why liking him was worthy of note, and Shepard had no idea.

A weathered-looking wooden bookcase at the back of the store caught her eye. Shepard had never owned a book – they had been a low priority on the transport ships to Mindoir, and she had always thought them an inefficient way to store and transmit data. Several books looked both old and richly bound, in leather or some convincing substitute. An antique book of human tales or knowledge – that sounded more likely to appeal to Liara than a random trinket.

Shepard took one of the books from the shelf and carefully opened it to the title page, wrinkling her nose at the musty smell. It appeared to be a book of poems by someone named Robert Frost. She flipped to a random page and read a short poem about the world ending in fire or ice. A little too topical, she decided, and set the book back in its place. Besides, what did she know about poetry? She'd be giving Liara a message that she didn't even properly understand.

Still, maybe one of the books would be poetry by Tennyson and at least she'd have a gift for Ashley. She sniffed at a few, picked one that seemed less odorous, and flipped it open. After a bewildered moment, her jaw dropped – this was perfect. She brought the book to the ancient shopkeeper, who watched her through cloudy eyes. "How much is this? And do you have anything I could use to write an inscription?"

He searched under the counter for a moment and produced, of all things, a fountain pen and a bottle of ink. No, this was perfect. He made an expansive gesture that encompassed the book, pen, and ink. "Fifty credits for the lot."

That was less than Shepard had expected. She reached for her credit chit and realized she'd given it to Garrus. She could raise him on the communicator... but still, that was a Cerberus credit chit. She realized that she was deeply reluctant to provide them with any record of this transaction. This was only for Liara, and for her; not another piece of data for Miranda and her boss to pore over, looking for new ways to manipulate her.

Dr. Chakwas cleared her throat, and Shepard realized the doctor had come to stand behind her. She handed a credit chip to the proprietor. "I'll take care of that, Shepard."

"Dr. Chakwas... I can't ask you to do that."

The doctor gave her a startlingly impish smile. "Then it's a good thing that you didn't."