Disclaimer: Bioware owns all. Except the song lyrics. They belong to Joss Whedon.

Kaidan – meet me on the Presidium. –Shepard

She had torn the patches off the arms that bore the Cerberus logo, but the shades of grey (only just now did that strike her as funny when she realized how they adorned every Cerberus uniform) and orange piping were still a dead giveaway – if one knew what they were looking at. She sat with one leg crossed over the other, and tried not to check her omni for the time. Her foot bobbed with impatience. This was not a good idea.

"Shepard."

She hadn't even heard him approach – his soft footfalls blended in with the hum of the pedestrian traffic. She wondered if he'd looked for her, or if he'd come straight here – where there was no longer a monument to the mass relays, but instead a large plant sculpture. Avina offered no explanation to passersby as to why, unlike the other statues, this monument had not been rebuilt.

Looking up to see him standing there, at ease, hands behind his back, in his elegant dress blues, she tried not to wish she had never been a hero. Turns out that even the hardest of bitches (Miranda), the silliest of women (Chambers) and the most capable of engineers (Tali) read romance novels – and the ones about colonists falling in love and building new lives with little concern for the galaxy at large were quite the fad. She'd read one. Or two. She'd lost track. Either way, that too had seeped into her dreams, and the idea of she and Kaidan homesteading on a colony on the edge of Council space had plenty of allure. But that was a life that was never an option.

She let a small smile quirk up the corner of her mouth. "Kaidan. Have a seat."

He nodded, and stepped to her and seated himself on the bench. He did not lean back, as she was doing, and did not stretch his arm out over the back to touch her. He leaned forward, hands hanging between his knees.

"You know, I thought I'd come here, and you wouldn't be here." He didn't even open with a 'hello'.

"I think it's funny that they've put up a…what is that?"

"Topiary."

"No, what is it?"

He narrowed his gaze and stared at it for a moment, and she looked over at him, brow furrowed in concentration, and tried not to feel affection for him – tried not to want to run her fingers into his hair and have him lean his face against her palm. She gripped her fingers in her lap, stilling the urge.

"I have no idea. Which could mean I just don't know what it is, or that whomever created it wasn't very good or had never seen what they were trying to mimic." He shrugged, and raised his gaze to her with a tilt of his head.

"Ah."

They were silent, contemplating exterior noise, other pedestrians, eavesdropping on conversations without even trying.

"I wanted to apologize," he began, eyes on his clasped hands hanging between his knees.

"I owe you one too, but I don't really know how to say it without couching it in passive aggressive accusations."

He let out a chuckle, and she smiled. "I suppose I deserve that. I don't know what to tell you, Shepard. I've said my peace. I believe you were dead, and I believe you owe Cerberus a hell of a lot. I owe them too," he added, more quietly. "But I don't know where that leaves us. Two years is a long time, and that's before you showed up and then disappeared again. Nearly three years now."

She fast-forwarded past the part where it hadn't been that long for her. It was no use. "I don't work for Cerberus anymore. But in exchange for keeping the ship, I'm going to owe them some favors."

Kaidan just nodded, taking in the information, and carefully not rendering an opinion.

"They've also offered me a new deal. I've met with Anderson and the Council…"

"I know."

"Then you know I'm back at square one, still a Spectre but without their support. I gave them hard evidence, but once again their sight is dismally short for such a collection of races with such long histories. They're happy I eliminated the Collector threat for now, but they fail to see the big picture. They still think the Reapers are a fantasy. I tell you, my fantasies had better include less giant mental termites or I'll kill myself right here on this squeaky-clean Presidium tile."

He let out another chuckle that spurred a smile from her, and she wished it wasn't so damn difficult.

"So what is this new deal?"

"Funding, mostly. Same thing I was doing for Hackett back in the day. I get to run my own agenda, without their logos on everything, tainting what chance I have of uniting the galaxy and convincing them of what's coming, and in exchange I run a few ops for them. The Illusive Man knows what I will and will not do for him, for Cerberus, and I think he still thinks he's got the upper hand, and so he's willing to pander to my whims. I think I'm smarter than he thinks I am. Or something like that. Unless he's got a finger fondling a kill switch in my grey matter, then he does actually have the upper hand," she finished dryly.

"I'm still on the same mission as before – except now with bonus propaganda," he sat up and blocked out the words like a marquee in front of them. "'Don't let the Collectors threaten your colony!'" He grimaced. "Alliance-funded defense systems in remote colonies, bringing them back into the fold, because now they're scared enough to let us."

"You sound a little disenchanted."

"I'm tired, Shepard."

She sighed. "You and me both."

They were silent again, and she didn't quite feel a frozen wasteland between them, but neither was she expecting much. Then again, it was more of a first step than she expected.

Which made it even more unexpected, when he reached for the hands on her lap with one of his own, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand, and watching himself do it, like he couldn't understand why he was touching her.

"I miss you," he said quietly.

She let a thumb wriggle out and touch him. "I miss you too."

"I don't know where this leaves us – just because we're technically on the same side now…"

"We were always on the same side," she injected.

"Whatever the case may be, I can't come with you, and you can't stay here. I tried so hard to have a life. I can't keep putting it off."

"Even for the good of the galaxy?"

"The galaxy will still be here, long after I'm gone. If nothing else, I've learned that someone will rebuild."

"How pessimistic of you."

"Realistic. Difference."

She untangled her hands from his, causing him to look up at her, finally meeting her eyes for the first time since he'd sat down for more than half a second. She stared at him, trying to sort him out, and he reached up to lay his hand against her cheek. She leaned into him, exactly like she'd wanted him to do for her, had she managed to touch him like this.

"Spend the night with me," she said, letting it slip out with her eyes close before she could stop the words, and her eyes snapped open. "I mean…"

"I can't. I can't…" he trailed off, and removed his hand from her face, standing. "I won't lie to you and tell you I didn't have…hopes after we survived the first time around. But we couldn't get it together for this reason and that reason, and…" he looked away, brow furrowed again. "I can't figure out how to make it work this time around, even if I could just…jump back into it. I'm not so sure that maybe we've had our chance."

Her eyes stung, but she was not going to let him see her cry. She nodded, still seated, and he looked down at her. "I'm sorry."

She was still nodding, a slow assent, because there was nothing else for her to do. "I'm sorry too."

He leaned in, and laid a kiss on her forehead, right on her hairline, and she closed her eyes. He swept a thumb across her cheekbone, and she clenched her teeth because she knew her body had betrayed her and he had wiped away the tear that had fallen.

There were no goodbyes, because that just seemed dramatic. Instead, he turned and walked away.

And she sat on the bench, staring out into the artificial light, listening to the chirps of birds and the hum of the people parade.