Sorono was giving Garrus an amused sort of look, with narrowed eyes and a raised brow. He took a little puff of his cigarette while Garrus scratched nervously at the plates on his face, looking as sheepish as I'd ever seen him. Neither of them said anything for a while.

I cleared my throat. "So, what happened next?"

"Do tell," Sorono drawled.

Garrus rumbled something under his breath and sighed, broad shoulders sagging.

"Next day I woke up aching all over, skipped breakfast to work with the guns, and only saw Shepard again at mid-day."

"Vakarian!" Shepard's small table was nearly full, but she waved him over.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said as he dropped into the last remaining seat.

"On the contrary," Shepard said, "we were just discussing our next port of call."

"Citadel," Mordin clarified, eating almost as fast as he spoke. "Meeting with Council, acquisition of supplies, perhaps shore leave. Some... dispute regarding all three."

"Not about the first." Shepard focused intently on the woman who say across from her. "It's happening, and you're not coming with. That's the end of it."

"Commander, much as I'm sure you trust your old captain, it could easily be a trap." She crossed her arms, her meal forgotten. "The Council-"

"The Council isn't Cerberus," Shepard shot back. "You've been working for this organization too long if you're constantly expecting a knife in the back."

"And you haven't been working for the Council long enough if you expect nothing but fair and just treatment."

Shepard stared at her for a beat, her hard eyes meeting coldly calculating ones, then turned back to her food. "It's happening, Lawson. Get used to it."

Lawson glanced away towards the galley. "I'll need a full report on what was said."

"Your boss will get his report," Shepard drawled without looking up. "Don't you worry."

She frowned slightly. Garrus smiled. Lawson hated being considered nothing more than the Illusive Man's eyes and ears aboard the Normandy, but since she still took nearly every opportunity to defend him and Cerberus, that wasn't going to change anytime soon. At least not in Shepard's eyes. It was rather baffling to Garrus that she was even bothered by the insinuation.

She sighed and brushed away a lock of long, dark hair. "Then I'll keep the ship ready to undock at a moment's notice."

Taylor spoke up. "Commander, permission to accompany you aboard the Citadel."

Garrus glanced up. Taylor he understood. Ex-Alliance, a former marine. Respectful, professional, and a good shot with a gun. He'd signed on with Cerberus not to further the cause of humanity or because he had something against aliens, but because there was something that needed doing and the Alliance wasn't doing it. It had taken Garrus a while to grasp this, but when he did, he started to feel that maybe Jacob was a kindred spirit in a way.

"Permission denied," Shepard replied mildly in between bites of some kind of strange tube-shaped sandwich she held in her hands. "Nothing personal, Taylor, but I'd rather not bring anyone with Cerberus colors into a Council meeting."

"Yeah, fair enough." His broad shoulders slumped a little as he nodded. "Just watch yourself, huh? I'm not as worried as Miranda, but they have thrown you under the bus over the last two years."

Shepard shrugged. "Worse comes to worst, I'll fight my way back to the ship and we book it."

"Really?" Miranda squinted and glanced pointedly at Garrus. "Through C-Sec?"

Garrus locked eyes with Shepard ever so briefly. He kept his expression entirely placid.

"She'd minimize casualties," he said to no one in particular, turning his attention to his food. "But she'd do what she had to."

The table was silent as everyone, including Shepard, seemed to take in what he had said.

"You can talk us out of any trouble, I'm sure."

Garrus glanced up, but Shepard had returned to the last of her meal.

"Of course," he replied anway.

Shepard swallowed. "That settles it then. Mordin and Garrus will accompany me on board the Citadel. After the meeting I'll contact the Normandy and inform you of the situation. Depending on how well it went, a day or so of shore leave may be in order for the crew."

Miranda leaned back, crossed her arms, and nodded coldly.

"In the meantime, I want everyone to put together a list of supplies they need. We've got credits, and this might be one of the only times we get to spend them inside Council space, so don't leave anything out."

Jacob and Mordin nodded firmly at this. "Shepard," Mordin interjected, "several key components I require not easy to come by in Council space. Could require your help in." He smiled a wide salarian smile. "Requisitioning certain items."

Shepard looked a bit amused at this. "We'll see what I can do once I've talked to the Council, doctor." She turned. "What about you, Garrus? Anything you need?"

"Well." Garrus chewed thoughtfully. "I do still have a few contacts on the station. I'd like to put out a few feelers before we leave, maybe see if I can't get my hands on some schematics that might help.

"And, of course," he raised his slim turian fork with a bit of dehydrated Palaven breadfood on the end of it. "I'll be sure to add to Gardner's list of ingredients."

Shepard smiled. It lasted all of two seconds before there was a loud thud beneath the mess hall.

"Christ," she said. "They're at it again."

Garrus set down his fork. "I can handle Grunt."

Mordin moved to stand as well. "Mental stability of Jack in question, well trained in xenopsychology, should allow me to-"

"No." She pushed herself up from the table. "The last thing Jack wants to see is a doctor, and the last thing Grunt wants to see is a turian. I'll take care of it."

Mordin and Garrus lowered themselves back in their seats. Shepard sighed in exasperation as she made for the elevator.

"I always take care of it."

"She was everywhere on that ship over the next few days. Only other person who came close was EDI, and she was the ship." He grimaced. "Everywhere, that is, except the main battery. Only time I saw her was in the mess, taking a meal with the crew."

Garrus arched his back a little, grabbing his neck and massaging it a little before settling comfortably again. "But Shepard was working overtime trying to keep our motley crew together long enough to throw us into the mouth of hell. Turns out that takes a fair bit of work when you've got the damaged, the disturbed, and the juvenile aboard, and your XO is more concerned with monitoring your movements than helping run the ship."

He closed his eyes for a moment. A bit of bitterness had welled up in those last words. It confused me, based on what I already knew.

"I thought Shepard and Ms. Lawson were fr-"

"They were." Garrus opened his eyes again and blew out a particularly flanging and rumbly sigh. "Lawson just... had a conflict of interest, early on. She's a hard woman to know, but you help her when she needs it, and she's almost blindingly loyal. The Illusive Man had helped her, once. Shepard hadn't." Garrus shrugged and smiled knowingly. "Not yet, anyway."

"What about the other one?" Sorono puffed and exhaled. The room was becoming quite smoky. "Taylor."

I coughed. Garrus glanced over to me, then leaned way back in his seat, grabbed the deck door, and slid it open. Smoke slowly began to trail outside.

Sorono hunched his shoulders and cleared his throat. It sounded like a death rattle. "Sorry."

"It's okay," I said, chuckling nervously. "My mom used to smoke."

He hummed curiously and nodded, sticking the cigarette back in his mouth. "She quit?"

"She died."

Way to be tactful, Alisa.

Garrus was staring daggers at Sorono, who seemed to freeze like a statue for several moments, fingers still as his mouth. When he unfroze, he quickly took the cigarette from his mouth and dumped it into his makeshift ashtray, then leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, looking down at the table.

"Think I'll shut up for a bit," he mumbled.

"That would be best," Garrus ground out. Then he turned to me.

I knew he was checking to make sure I was okay. He looked me straight in the eye, focused and searching. I was fine - I'd had my cry for the year - but I was still flattered by his concern. Hence the blush that rose to my cheeks.

I nodded in what I hoped was a firm way. He blinked, and the intensity left his eyes.

"Where were we, again?" He asked.

"Citadel," I answered.

"Right." He turned back to the table, but not before casting one last glance my way. "The Citadel."

The meeting could have gone better, but it could have gone a lot worse.

It was conducted via vidlink and holographs in Councilor Anderson's office. He'd gotten the position thanks to Shepard's recommendation, back before she died and her word still counted for something with the Council. He looked tired, a bit worn out maybe, but the smile he gave her was genuine.

"Interesting crew you've brought," he had said, nodding to Garrus and Mordin.

"Cerberus' diversity hires," she had replied. Everyone chuckled but Mordin, who simply smiled and nodded, as if that made perfect sense.

When things began in earnest, the three other Councilors materializing in the room, Garrus and Mordin had backed off towards the door to the office. This didn't concern them. They were there, as Shepard had so eloquently put it, as a show of diversity. A little proof that whatever she was doing with Cerberus, she was no human supremicist.

Of course it hardly mattered. The salarian Councilor was skeptical, the asari diplomatic, and the turian (Sparatus, if Garrus remembered correctly) dismissed her claims entirely. He had even used what Shepard referred to later as 'air quotes' around the word 'Reapers.' A thoroughly human gesture. The idea that he had bothered to learn it just to condescend to humans was both laughable and infuriating. This was the representative of the Hierarchy, the most powerful turian in Council space apart from the Primarchs themselves, and he was little more than a petty child.

Still, the asari (Tevos?) was willing to compromise, despite her colleague's behavior. The salarian as well, not because he believed Shepard, but just to play it safe in case she was right.

They offered her a full reinstatement of her Spectre status. A tacit endorsement, but not full support. No, that would be too risky. Someone might actually have to take a stand for something. But Shepard had accepted. Quite grudgingly, Garrus was sure, but you wouldn't know it from her voice or her body language. Tight and controlled, her mask on once again.

Now, after it was all over, and after Udina briefly stormed in to complain to Anderson about 'political shitstorms' and 'cleaning up after him,' Shepard and Anderson wandered off to the edge of the Councilor's private balcony. They talked quietly. Garrus couldn't help but wonder what about, past the usual pleasantries. Probably Kaidan, based on the nervous tapping of her foot at one point. He would apologize for not telling her, she would accept, and that would be the end of it. Too much trust there, especially after he'd just stuck up for her during the Council meeting, to hold any real grudge about something like that.

Garrus became conscious that he was essentially eavesdropping and analyzing Shepard's personal conversation like he was on a stakeout back in C-Sec, and quickly averted his eyes. Glancing over to his left, he found Mordin carefully examining a potted plant in the corner. Some Earth shrub or tree or something. He looked absolutely fascinated.

Eventually, he heard Shepard walking back towards the door. Anderson remained where he was, elbows on the railing, looking out at the tube-shaped Presidium, horizon disappearing up into the relative sky to the left and right. Mordin quickly brought himself up from his squat (he had been examining the root and trunk of the plant) and took two long strides to Garrus' side.

"We're done here," Shepard said. "Let's go shopping."

"I won't lie. It felt good to be back on the Citadel. For as much as things had changed with the reconstruction, it was familiar. Like a pair of old boots."

Garrus leaned back in his seat and dented his fingers.

"I've been stationed on plenty of ships, served in plenty of theaters, but I've only lived in a handful of places in my life. Cipritine on Palaven. Shalta Ward on the Citadel. The Normandy SR-1, for about four months. The SR-2 for a bit longer than that. And..." His brow plates raised and he shrugged. "Here, I guess."

A febrile silence filled the room. It had been a long time since it felt this quiet. Sorono was apparently committed to 'shutting up' and I was in no mood to prod the Primarch to go further before he was ready.

The husky voiced turian scratched at his palms. He hadn't lit up again since that awkward moment earlier. I stood and reached across the table, grabbed the pack, shook out a stick, tamped it, and offered it to him. He blinked and accepted it, raising it in silent thanks.

Garrus watched all this from behind his dented fingers. When I sat down again, he chuckled quietly. "I think you can talk now, Sor."

His omni-tool flared as he inhaled his first drag. Smoke billowed out from behind his mandibles on the exhale.

"Good selection," he rasped. "Of homes, I mean."

The old Primarch narrowed his eyes and smiled softly. "Thought you didn't like the beach."

"Never said that." Sorono seemed to ease back into his natural state of perpetual relaxation. "Good place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. Lose its lustre, you know."

"Really. Where would you live?"

He seemed to consider the question carefully, staring at the lit end of his smoke. He shrugged. "Don't know. Some place rainy, maybe. A little more gray to contrast with the blue."

Garrus seemed to regard his friend with new eyes. He leaned back in his chair.

"Think I've got enough contrast for my blue skies."

Sorono looked up. Amber eyes flecked with gold. He nodded. "S'pose so."

Outside, the clouds broke and sun began filtering in through the windows and the deck doors. It was close to noon.

Garrus took a breath and stroked his chin. He glanced at me out of the corners of his eyes, as if to make sure I was still there.

"So," he said, breathing out the word. "Shopping."

The Citadel was one of, if not the largest trade hub in the galaxy. Short of slaves, heavy weapons which broke the conventions of warfare, and illegal or dangerous starship modifications, you could find just about anything in the Presidium markets. And if you couldn't, there were always the less reputable wards.

But apparently they didn't stock what Mordin was looking for.

"Nonononono, need altered carbon nanotube production module, not standard and certainly not recycled, if you are not able to provide will go elsewhere-"

"Now let's not be hasty," the volus merchant said in between the click-wheeze of his pressure suit's air filter. "I'm willing to provide what you're asking for-"

"Excellent, then accept credits and deliver to docking bay-"

"-in about a month."

Mordin blinked rapidly. "Month far too much time, will have no need of the device in a month, need altered carbon nanotube production module now. Life or death situation. Would prefer life."

"Look. Maybe we can make a deal." The volus turned and regarded Shepard and Garrus pointedly. "I'm not in the business of disappointing Spectres. Or their friends."

"Do you have the module or don't you?" Shepard asked impatiently, arms crossed over her armor.

"I..." Click-wheeze. "May."

"Then sell it to him."

"It's on layaway for another customer-"

"They can wait a little longer," the Commander said.

The volus seemed to freeze. The short bulbous form of his high-pressure suit stared up at her.

He sighed. Click-wheeze. "Okay."

Satisfied, Shepard let the mask drop. "Mordin, go with our new friend here to make sure it's exactly what you need. Wouldn't want to receive the wrong goods by accident, would we?"

Mordin smiled. "Of course not, Shepard. Would be most unpleasant, ruin everyone's good mood."

The volus sighed again, angrily. "Okay, okay, I got it. Come on, it's in my warehouse."

He trundled out of the shop, Mordin on his heels, taking two steps, then pausing, then taking two steps again, seemingly unable to match the slow gait of the shopkeeper.

Shepard stepped out and rested her hands on her hips. The markets spread out before them, filled with all manner of beings and wares, hawking and bargaining, peddling and haggling. Some only had small prefab stands that probably collapsed during the Citadel's night cycle. Or perhaps they were staffed throughout the day and night, and it was simply the best real estate they could afford in one of the busiest sections of the market.

"What's next on the list?" Garrus asked idly, taking in the scene with trained investigator's eyes.

"This is the last thing Mordin needs. After this, it's provisions." Shepard smiled tightly. "Excited?"

Garrus thought he saw a pickpocket at work, but couldn't be sure, so he said nothing. "Ecstatic. Gardner won't be able to cook any of it worth a damn, but at least it'll be something different."

"He's taking it like a personal challenge, you know."

"Doesn't mean I think he'll succeed."

The pickpocket ran up behind the human he'd just lifted, and returned the stolen credit chit. You dropped this, oh how did that happen, thanks so much. Smart play. He'd already used a credit encrypter on his omni-tool to lift a small sum from the chit. The human would be none the wiser until he checked the balance later, and if the thief was very smart, it would be a small enough amount that he'd figure he just hadn't remembered spending it. Criminal like that was almost admirable, in a strange way. No big score, no ruined lives. Just lots and lots of little inconveniences.

"How about you?" He asked. "Looking forward to something that wasn't bought on Omega?"

"Who isn't," Shepard replied easily. "Lucky no one got sick off that slop."

The thief struck again, this time on an asari. Same exact thing. Garrus thought about telling Shepard, going over there and arresting him, but it had been a long day, and one pickpocket wouldn't exactly tip the scales of good and evil in the galaxy.

Hell. Not like any of it mattered if the Reapers had their way.

"I'm not in the habit of opening up to crew, Garrus."

It took a moment to process what she said. He blinked and turned his head. She was still staring off into the markets. Her profile cut a strong, sharp silhouette. He couldn't quite a get a read on her.

"No?"

She shook her head. "Complicates things. A commander needs to be a font of strength for their crew. Someone they can look to for guidance and leadership." He saw her jaw clench almost imperceptibly. "Self-doubt isn't exactly inspiring."

Garrus' brow plates lowered. "Everyone has doubts, Shepard. You're not special."

She smiled, but there was no humor in it.

"Well," he clarified in a wry tone of voice, "that's not true. You are special. But you're not a robot."

She sighed quietly. "I'm not looking for more comfort, Garrus. I'm just letting you know why it's unlikely to happen again."

"What?"

"Me... opening up like that."

Garrus turned to stare out at the markets. He wasn't about to take this lying down.

"I understand."

"It's just what's best for the crew."

"Of course."

He waited a beat.

"What about friends?"

Now he felt Shepard turn and look at him. "What?"

"Opening up to friends. You can still do that, can't you?"

"They're not mutually exclusive groups, Garrus."

"I don't know." He turned and met her questioning gaze with his. "Depends on how you treat them."

Shepard closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly. "You're not taking this well."

"Just been told by a friend that I'm just 'crew' to her. I think I'm taking it very well."

"You're not-" She caught herself and turned back to the markets, bringing a hand up to rub her forehead. "God damn it, Garrus."

Garrus did the same, staring out and instinctively trying to locate that pickpocket again.

"What about Joker and Chakwas?"

She laughed, again without humor. "The manchild and the mother hen."

"Your friends."

Shepard's voice was neutral. She was threatening to put the mask back on again. For him. "They've got enough to worry about."

That just about tore it.

"For fuck's sake, Shepard, you are not alone." He said, enunciating every word with all that his harmonics could allow. Something of the fierceness of his tone must have struck a chord, because she turned to look at him again. She didn't have the mask on, thank the spirits. Just open eyes and a curious look on her face.

"You're carrying the weight of a galaxy on your shoulders," Garrus said, plowing ahead now that he'd slipped past her guard. "You're going to buckle occasionally. The very least I can do is share the load."

He'd let it slip. This wasn't really about Joker or Chakwas. He'd just been probing for a weakness, something that would get her to see reason. She couldn't do this alone, just like he couldn't do this without her.

Shepard stared at him, long and hard. He stared right back. There was no backing down from this. Her eyes shifted to something behind him and she straightened and turned back towards the markets. He was about say something when he heard Mordin speak.

"What I needed, in excellent condition. Took liberty of notifying docking bay crew, should be delivered within the hour, hope you don't mind."

Shepard smiled another too-tight smile. "Of course. You going to head back and prep your lab?"

He nodded vigorously. "Components I require should be arriving at approximately the same time, should make certain there is adequate space, prep cargo bay for large-scale fabrication as well. Unless you need me here."

"No, I think we can manage," she said with a glance in Garrus' general direction.

Mordin nodded again, turned on his heel, and walked off without another word. Garrus and Shepard stood there, in front of Yuyaku Advanced Machinery and Fabrications, refusing to look at one another.

Shepard broke the beginnings of a lasting silence.

"I'm sorry."

He turned his head. She was clenching her jaw again.

"I just..." She closed her eyes and growled out something his translator didn't pick up, if it had been a word at all. "Forget it."

When she didn't immediately continue, Garrus had to check. "We okay?"

Shepard looked up and there was that thing in her eyes again that bothered him, but it was tempered this time, buried beneath simple honesty. She nodded slowly.

"Yeah." She turned and started walking. "Come on, Vakarian, let's get some food and go home."

Garrus felt like he could breath again, so he did. Took a deep breath, and sauntered after her. Until he saw one of the stores across the street.

"I'll catch up," he said, flashing her a smile when she turned to glare at him. "Won't be long. Promise."

"Better not be." She turned away, raising her voice. "I don't know how to pronounce half the things on your list."

Garrus laughed, mostly out of relief. Then he booked it straight for the Citadel Souvenirs across the street, grabbing the pickpocket's hand when he tried to grab his chit and grinning at him like a madman before letting him run back into the crowd.

"At the time, I just thought she was trying to bottle herself up, shoulder the weight of everything on her own and soldier on. And maybe she was, a little. It was Shepard after all. But..."

He shifted back in his seat and stared at the wall above the bar. At the gun at the center of all the pictures.

"I think I know the real reason why she tried to push me away. And it had nothing to do with what was best for the crew."