Shepard looked up at Liara's light footfall, pushing herself off the floor, and composing her expression. From the look of things, Shepard had received information that caused her to put her back to the nearest solid surface and slide to sit on the floor, knees drawn up, in order to think hard.

"Shepard? What is it?" It was not like Shepard to let her façade crack when in public, and while Shepard still considered Liara a crewman, Feron certainly was not. Not that Feron was anywhere in sight, but Shepard knew he was on the main deck somewhere. Usually she wouldn't risk being seen as anything other than the indestructible Commander Shepard—the person the galaxy needed her to be.

Shepard shook her head, heaving a sigh with a trace of huskiness to it, as though her throat was not working correctly. "You know, for the past months I've been blaming the Alliance—Admiral Hackett—for not sending someone to come get me, once they realized the rumors were true. Now…" She grit her teeth, her drift turning a frustrated root beer color, complete with fizzles of anxiety. "Now I find out the Alliance did want to send someone to come get me. And guess what? It would have been an interrogation team." Shepard's hand shook, prompting her to close it into a fist to stop the tremors. "…and he said no…Admiral Hackett, I mean." The knowledge hit her in the guts, and made her wonder if somewhere she had not been a tad hypocritical.

An Alliance interrogation was not something she wanted to know about firsthand, and she shuddered at the thought. What had she done in her years of service to make people think she'd cross sides?

"Shepard," Liara shook her head, "the Alliance and the Council did hang you out to dry—you can't be expected to sit around all day and measure every single person individually—you'd never get anything done. And you can't pretend you knew him very well. He was top brass, you were a junior officer."

"Two years gave you a lot of insights." Shepard used the words to fill the air, feeling uncomfortable with empty silence. People kept assuming she was with Cerberus by choice without any kind of necessity involved. She had assumed Admiral Hackett was hands-off because of Cerberus…it was only here, now, that she realized she had been primed for the viewpoint that the Alliance had abandoned her.

Jacob did it, most likely without meaning to influence her perceptions. It had reinforced the feeling of isolation and abandonment in those first few weeks, then came Hackett's one communiqué, telling her where her ship's body was.

Should she have seen through this? Or was it simply proof that she was human, fallible, and capable of making misjudgments. Was it excusable?

"You're only human, Shepard," Liara said softly, the pulse and shudder of Shepard's drift, dismayed purple, evoking deep sympathy for the human. She did not think Shepard had misjudged anyone: Admiral Hackett was a cautious man, the type to put Shepard on a long rope and see if she hanged herself with it. "As for the past two years, I've spoken with a great number of soldiers in two years. I get the feeling I may need to speak with a few more: you can't be hanging around here just because you've run out of things to do."

"I'm procrastinating the in-person visit to the Citadel by chatting with an old friend," Shepard sighed, running a hand through her curls. "I don't mind telling you: I'm not looking forward to it."

Liara looked away, biting the inside of her lip. That was going to be an uncomfortable visit for someone—likely, though, not for Shepard. Liara imagined humble pie stuffed with crow would be on the menu…but she also felt Shepard's morose doubts about the ability of the Council to accept her word, with or without proof.

Those determined to remain blind would do so, proof be damned.

"I have something for you." If Shepard ever needed a distraction, now was as good a time as any. "Now is not the best time I could choose, but it seems it will have to be now or never." She hurried away, leaving Shepard deep in thought.

"Here," Liara held out a white shadowbox, designed similarly to a freestanding frame for a holo when she returned. "Admiral Hackett contacted me awhile back, though in a roundabout way. He wanted you to have them, and I was instructed to tell you…"

"Godspeed." Shepard's fingers closed over the box containing the mangled remains of ID tags. Unreadable, charred and deeply scored, she knew them by instinct. How had they survived? Regardless, it was a tangible proof that someone hadn't wholly swept her under the rug.

"May I presume to give you some advice?" Liara asked quietly.

"Why not?" Shepard ruffled her curls as she examined the tags.

"The next time you see Alenko, don't even talk to him."

Shepard looked up sharply, but more out of surprise at the direction the conversation took than anger at what might be perceived as a hint to 'just give up.'

"Don't try to explain yourself," Liara continued calmly, smiling at the sudden yellow of Shepard's drift. "Don't try to reason with him…" She almost laughed at Shepard's expression, a mix at horror over receiving dating advice from the shyest (or formerly shyest) asari she knew and shock at the advice she was getting. "Just kiss him hard enough that he can't talk. It'll keep him from digging that hole he's standing in any deeper. He'll appreciate it. That should get things rolling in the right direction."

"I don't even know what to say that." Shepard announced, blank with surprise at the advice.

"There's nothing to say," Liara answered as sweetly as she could. Shepard's expression became mildly suspicious but still amused as she waited for the axe to fall. "It falls under the heading of unconventional warfare."