There was a long moment when the two men just stared at each other. It was an odd thing, assessing a man that wasn't really even there. But those strange, synthetic eyes pierced through the veil, cutting the distance between them and placing them together in the same room. It filled him with disgust. And an odd sense of trepidation.

The Illusive Man lifted a glass, took a slow drink, and returned his gaze to Shepard. "How are you feeling?"

"Cut the shit." Shepard's jaw set, his arms crossing as he met the man's eyes. "What the hell do you want with me?"

Another drag of the cigarette. "What I need is your help."

"That isn't likely."

"Being combative for the sake of it and holding old grudges will help no one in this fight, Shepard."

"A grudge doesn't really cover it, asshole. I'm not fighting for Cerberus."

"Not for, with. I didn't spend billions of credits to bring you back as a common soldier, Commander. You're a symbol, a beacon that was lit at a key point in our history. The people see you as a hero, a leader, a survivor – and we need you now more than ever." The Illusive Man's fingers came to rest along his jaw, stroking idly in contemplation. Shepard watched him with a growing unease. He wasn't particularly fond of the direction of this conversation. "Humanity is up against the single greatest threat of our brief existence."

There was a dull ringing in his ears as the beating came back, the low, steady pulse that seemed to come from somewhere deep. Somewhere dark. The unwelcome feeling of hopelessness stole over him as the beacon's vision flashed through his mind. Sovereign's voice whispered in the depths of his mind. They were still coming. "The Reapers."

"Good to see your memory is still intact." More smoke billowed from his nostrils. "Humanity is under attack, Commander."

Shepard's fists clenched. "What are they doing? Have they invaded?"

"Not yet, but it's only a matter of time. Entire colonies have been disappearing. Human colonies." The Illusive Man stood, approaching the Shepard's holograph, strange eyes focused intently on the Commander. "No one is willing to admit it, but we believe that it's someone working for the Reapers. Just as Saren and the geth aided Sovereign."

Shepard was silent, his teeth grinding against each other as the Illusive Man breathed out another puff of smoke. Like hell he was going to take this guy at his word. "What does Cerberus stand to gain from this? I didn't take you as a group of philanthropists."

"We are committed to the advancement and preservation of humanity. If the Reapers are targeting us, trying to wipe us out, Cerberus will stop them. If we wait for politicians or the Alliance to take action, no colonies will be left." The conviction in his voice, in his eyes, was enough to cause Shepard doubts. He definitely knew how to talk. "You've seen firsthand what the Reapers are capable of, Commander. There is no room for politics or indecision, no place to wait and see. Cerberus is taking action. We're at war, Shepard. It's time we fought back."

Shepard's brow furrowed as the Illusive Man took in another lungful of smoke. This man was a terrorist. His organization was responsible for the death of his squad, for the torture of fuck knew how many people. They were ruthless, willing to do anything for the sake of their experiments. For the 'advancement of humanity'. But his stomach roiled as he realized there was a definite possibility of truth to what he was saying – the Council had never been eager to act on the Reaper threat, and he knew from personal experience just how quick the Alliance tended to act in defense of their colonies. If they denied the Reapers existed, if neither of them were willing to do what needed to be done to protect their citizens…

How could he simply go back to it? To running around after geth, or whatever other boogeymen the Council cooked up to keep him occupied? How could he sit back and do nothing when he knew what was coming?

He wished in that moment he could reach across the void to pour a drink of his own.

"I need to talk to Anderson." And Ash. He needed to find Ash and his crew, his team. His family. He needed them to tell him it was real. That he was here. He needed her to prove he was alive.

The Illusive Man assessed him for a moment, nodding slowly as he did. "That won't be a problem. You're not a prisoner, Commander. I brought you back to do what you do best, not to police your actions. But I trust in speaking to him you'll come to understand that we are the only entity actively working to stop the Reapers. The only ones looking to find answers to where our colonists are going."

"So I'm free to go?" Shepard eyed him with suspicion. It was too easy. "You just spent billions of credits to bring me back to life, and now you're letting me loose after a little chat? I don't buy it. You could have had an army with the money you spent."

"I didn't need an army, Shepard. I needed you. As I said, you have influence, the ability to inspire. You're more than just a soldier, and I believe you will be key in our fight against the Reapers. You beat them once, Commander. That has to mean something to them." The Illusive Man turned, pacing back to his seat and settling down, crossing his legs casually. Shepard rolled his neck, trying to ignore the ringing in his ears. "Before you go, though, all I ask is that you see for yourself what's happening. Another colony - Freedom's Progress - was just hit. Go there, find what you can. There's a shuttle already waiting. When you return, you can decide whether or not you wish to proceed with us."

He hated that the man had been able to persuade him to consider it. His fists clenched at the smugness on the Illusive Man's face – the bastard knew he had won. Shepard grasped for an argument, for any solid reason to refuse, but it was hopeless. No matter how disgusted with himself he may be for working with these monsters, it would be worse if he didn't. If he didn't even look and let innocents continue to disappear, abandoned by those meant to protect them. If it was really happening, he had to know. He'd bring it back to Anderson then, make sure they were doing something about it. He was just doing this for the colonists. He wasn't betraying the Alliance doing that. Right?

Fuck.

"Fine. I'll go. But don't count on me coming back and saying yes. I'm only going to see if I can believe a word you say." Shepard grumbled, fully realizing the emptiness of his words. The Illusive Man nodded.

"Good. Miranda and Jacob will brief you."

"You're fucking joking, right? I'm not working with them."

"She said you might be difficult to convince." The Illusive Man took another small drink, eyes surveying the Commander over the glass. "They know more about the previous attacks and will be able to help you find clues as to what's happening. They're professionals, Commander. You can trust them."

Shepard glared back. "Right." He growled, unconvinced, and crossed his arms again. "I'm not doing this unarmed."

"Of course. You'll be given access to your choice of weaponry. I do ask, however, that you don't use it on any of my operatives. Jacob is a more forgiving sort than most." Another puff of smoke, and the Illusive Man's hand trailed to a control on the arm of his chair. "Find what you can, Shepard. I brought you back. It's up to you to do the rest."

xxxxxxxxxxxx

"…Shepard? Is that really you?"

A hand ran through the too-short hair on his head. Tali. He had found Tali. A link to the life he thought he still had. Then she had left, left with a voice that told him she was still doubtful, that she still thought he was some monster Cerberus had pieced together. Some imposter. He couldn't blame her, of course. He had no way of being sure himself. But she had left, and took with her any hope that it would be the same.

The Illusive Man's image disappeared from the room once more, another of their little talks completed. The man was infuriatingly calm and had enough natural charisma to charm an elcor, and Shepard hated it. But what he hated more was that he was right. It was real. Even Cerberus couldn't pull off that elaborate of a hoax. An entire colony, disappeared. Their belongings strewn but not destroyed, the buildings still standing. It wasn't like Mindoir, where the slavers had taken the people and razed his home to send a message to the Alliance. This was different – organized, mechanical. A quick, precise abduction. He was sickeningly reminded of a cattle round up.

Veetor's surveillance images of the Collectors and their swarms only cemented it. Those creatures hauling paralyzed colonists away without a backwards glance. This wasn't the work of pirates or mercenaries. No slavers would bother with these tactics. No known race had access to that sort of technology. This was more.

This was the Reapers.

So he had agreed to it. Agreed to working with Cerberus, with the people he had hunted, the same people he thought deserved nothing short of a bullet to the head. He was disgusted with himself, with this course of action. He toyed with the idea of leaving, giving the Illusive Man a big 'fuck you' and heading on his way. But it wasn't like he had some home to go to. He knew he'd be more tied down back on the Citadel than here, and the Alliance would contain him until they knew he wasn't Cerberus' version of Frankenstein.

And he couldn't afford to be tied down, not now. He needed to help these people. So he would just stay here, hate himself, and deal with Cerberus later. They weren't completely useless, after all. He had been offered resources, dossiers to the most impressive and diverse group of warriors, thieves, mercenaries, and assassins in the universe. He apparently had a ship again. A crew he could 'trust'. But it wouldn't be his crew. It wasn't his ship. And the Illusive Man had explained, in agonizing detail, how fruitless it would be to try and track down his former squad. They had moved on.

But he hadn't. He couldn't. It didn't feel like two years to him. It felt like passing out after too much tequila. Everything was painful and fuzzy, his mind reeling with the things that had apparently happened in a different life. A life where she was still there, arguing with him about meeting her family, cuffing him on the side of the head when he got too serious. What if she had moved on? What if he found her, and she left like Tali did? How the hell was he supposed to handle that? How could he explain to her what had happened? That he still needed her with him?

That he still needed her to breath?

The door opened behind him, bringing him from his thoughts, from the pounding and whispers in his head that hadn't stopped since Freedom's Progress. He didn't turn. He just waited, staring at the place where the Illusive Man once sat. It would be Miranda, probably, summoned to bring him to his new ship. The woman was always so goddamn professional.

"Hey, Shepard. Just like old times, huh?"

Shepard's jaw dropped, his heart stilling as he turned to find Joker, the pilot giving him the same cocky grin he always did. He just stood there and gaped.

"Damn, Shepard. You lose the ability to speak? They said you were good, but you still look pretty rough. You all there?"

He started moving towards his pilot, his steps slow and unsteady. Joker wasn't turning away, wasn't looking at him like he was some zombie. He just stood there with that same easy smile. He was the same. He was a constant. A link to everything he had lost.

"Alright, well, that's cool. You never talked much anyways." Joker's voice wavered a bit as the commander stepped closer. "I hope you're not mad or anything. About getting spaced and all that. Looking back, it was probably a bad call trying to save my ass. You're not mad, right?" Shepard stopped in front of him, his brow furrowing as he glanced over the small pilot. "Shepard?"

It seemed like the only thing to do, the only way to express how goddamn glad he was to know something hadn't changed. His arms wrapped Joker in a bear hug, the pilot grunting in surprise and probably a little pain as he slapped his back.

"Christ, what did they do to you? You are not a hugger. I'm breakable, remember?" Shepard stepped back with a smirk and Joker gaped at him, rubbing his crushed arms. "Did they give you the soul of a teddy bear or something? Silent but loveable?"

Shepard snorted. "Fuck you."

"And there he is. Welcome back, Commander. I was worried for a moment there. Come on, you have to see her." Joker turned, leading the way out of the room and down a hall.

"So, is this where you tell me you were a Cerberus sleeper agent the whole time?"

"Please. As if I'm that subtle." Joker shook his head. "It all fell apart without you. The team never got back together. Everything you stirred up, the Council just wanted it gone. The records were sealed and I was grounded. Big bunch of bullshit." Joker stopped as they approached a row of windows, the space beyond darkened. "The Alliance took away the only thing that mattered to me. Damn right I joined Cerberus."

Shepard arched a brow. "But you saw what they did. How can you trust these assholes?"

"Hey, I don't see you trying to run off. Heard what you did to Jacob, though. Tried to warn them you weren't real fond of their little club." Joker shrugged, grinning. "They're not all bad. Saved your life. Let me fly." The lights beyond the windowed wall began to turn on, illuminating a familiar silhouette. "And there's this." Joker's grin was huge, looking at the ship like a parent might their child. "God, she's beautiful, isn't she? They just told me last night."

Shepard gave a grunt of appreciation. "He wasn't kidding about providing a ship."

The pilot laughed. "Good to be home, isn't it, Shepard?"

He couldn't help the small smile that played on his lips. He might have lost almost everything, but he had this. His eyes took in the ship, so similar to its predecessor, if only significantly larger. It really was beautiful – and it was his.

"I guess we'll have to give her a name."

xxxxxxxxx

He inhaled slowly and brought the scope to his eye. There were five. No problem at the base, but here, tangled in with civilians… It would be a bad call. Better to tail them, take high ground and wait for them to break from the herds stumbling in and out of Afterlife. Shooting around a hostage was one thing – shooting around dozens of drunken, stumbling idiots was another. And he doubted he'd have anybody to remark on his good marksmanship this time.

Garrus sighed, a thin, quiet exhale that crept out between pointed teeth. Two years. Two years since he followed the lead that brought him to Dr. Michel's clinic, two years since Saren, two years since Sovereign. Two years since the Normandy. Since Shepard. It felt like another life. He pulled back from the scope and eyed the rifle. Two years, and this was all he had to remind him he was ever a part of it.

Loud footsteps clambered towards him, and he sighed. They really needed to work on stealth.

"Hey, Archie, you coming back soon?" Butler's voice was anything but subtle. Garrus' mandibles fluttered in annoyance and he glared back at the human. He really was too loud for someone so small. "Sidonis said he's looking for you, has something he needs to show you or some shit like that. Sent me here to tell you to meet him across town somewhere."

"Real descriptive there, Butler."

"Hey, don't get your panties all in a bunch. I'm just the messenger. Here, I got your location for you." His omnitool waved and Garrus' visor lit with a destination. Butler gave a little bow, starting to turn back. "Me and the guys will hold down home base while you take care of your favorite little princess." The engineer grinned as Garrus' eyes darkened in annoyance. "Oh, come on. That guy always has something wrong. Not my fault you're stupid enough to feed into it. See ya later, Archman!"

With a wave over his shoulder, the man was off, not deigning to check his surroundings for threats as he climbed back down into Omega's alleyways. Garrus sighed in frustration, wondering briefly if recklessness was a human thing, or if he had just been lucky enough to meet the more impulsive members of the species.

Damn, I sound like Dad.

He stood, shaking the thought from his head. Life as a vigilante on Omega was definitely not his father's style. He had left his shadow when he handed in his resignation to C-Sec, when he left the Spectre program. He had left it all behind – all the red tape, all the damn restrictions telling him what to do and how to do it. But he had also left his family. His friends. He hadn't even talked to Tali for months now. Their…friendship was hard to maintain. He couldn't tell her where he was, and she was busy with the fleet. Without the Normandy, without Shepard… Nothing held them together.

The turian wandered past a couple of drunk vorcha, doing his best to ignore the smell that seemed to permeate every inch of the station. He thought he'd get used to it, that after this long he'd know how to ignore it. But it was always there. A sensory reminder of exactly the kind of shithole Omega was. His eyes found the sign indicating his entrance to the Kenzo District, and he brought his talon to his ear.

"Sidonis, I'm here. What's your location?"

There was silence, and Garrus sighed, keen eyes glancing around the abandoned halls for a trace of the other turian. He tried again to hail him. Nothing. His irritation grew as he paced forward, trying to figure out exactly what was significant about this location. Sidonis was a good guy, always ready to help, but Butler had a point - there was always something. The turian was nervous, paranoid even, and he used Garrus as some kind of safety net from mercs that got too close. Realistically, this probably wasn't the best career choice for him, but they needed all the help they could get in cleaning up these streets. And Sidonis was a damn good tactician.

A third hail went unanswered and he felt a nervous flutter in his stomach. Sidonis may be paranoid, but he didn't ignore the team. A fourth hail, and Garrus began to worry. What if he'd been found out? He had talked the team into pushing farther out, taking back more territory from Omega's gangs. He could have been caught. He raised his talons to try again, but his visor lit up with an incoming message.

"Archangel, come in!"

There was desperation in Butler's voice, a fear he didn't associate with the easygoing man. Something boomed in the background.

"I hear you. What's going on?" Nothing. "Butler, do you copy?"

Garrus ran as his only answer was static.