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Shepard was seething when she came back from the meeting with the asari councilor, muttering incoherent curses under her breath. "Liara still here?"

"No." The party guests had all left to go finish up the final details of their shore leaves shortly after Shepard had gone to her meeting. Garrus followed her into the downstairs bedroom, watching her attack the punching bag with a viciousness that was rare in her. "What's up?"

"Those … those arrogant … Do you know what she said to me? After all the stalling and feet-dragging? She looked me in the eye and said 'The situation is growing urgent for my people.'" Shepard said it in a parody of the asari councilor's clipped style. "What does she know about urgent?" She hit the punching bag with a flurry of blows.

"Well, we knew they were going to have to be dragged into the war kicking and screaming. Nothing new there," Garrus pointed out. "So what's got you so steamed?"

She stopped with the punching bag and turned to look at him. "They know what the Catalyst is."

"No! All this time?" The Catalyst was the final piece of the Crucible. Having had it to work on could have sped up the building of the project considerably … and saved possibly millions of lives.

Shepard sighed. "I mean, not entirely. They have an artifact hidden in a secret temple on Thessia that they think could help us locate the Catalyst. You know the asari, never come out and say what you mean if you can dance around the topic for an hour and a half." She made a face. "Maybe that's just the councilor. The rest of the asari are nowhere near as … frustrating."

"Still. They could have told us about this long ago. Like, maybe, before the Reapers were closing in on Thessia."

"She said they kept it secret because it could 'upset the balance of galactic power'. Apparently telling us about this artifact is really the last resort."

"The balance of galactic power, eh?" Garrus was intrigued. "The asari certainly think they hold the reins there … it might be nice for the rest of the galaxy to feel equal for a change."

"Maybe." Shepard looked troubled. "I got the impression she meant something … more. I don't know. Bigger."

He felt a chill. This had been such a nice interlude, a glimpse of what a life of peace could look like. Friends, family, love … And now they were being called back to the war. This was the beginning of the final push. Somehow he could feel it. The Reapers were closing the vise on the galaxy, the Crucible almost finished. If they could find the Catalyst, they could end this. But the Protheans never had found it. They had died out, almost entirely, before they could. On the other hand, the Protheans hadn't had Shepard, Garrus reminded himself. "So we're off to Thessia?"

"Just as soon as we can pack. I've called the others, told them to meet us on the Normandy." She looked around the room. "It'll be nice to think of this waiting for us to come back to it."

Garrus moved toward her, putting his arms around her. "It'll be even nicer coming back, Catalyst firmly in hand."

She chuckled against him. "I wish I had your confidence."

"So do I." Beneath the fine words lay a terrible fear that the true cost of this war would be Shepard herself—that somehow she would have to trade herself for the safety of the galaxy. And he knew if such a situation arose, she would do it, without a moment's hesitation. He was proud of her for that; he wouldn't have wanted her to be any other way. This was his Shepard, who gave all of herself at every moment, who did what needed to be done regardless of her personal feelings. But he loved her so. If this war cost her life, would it be worth it to him to live without her? "Shepard," he said hoarsely.

Pulling back enough to look up at his face, she asked, "What is it?"

"I'm never leaving you."

"Of course you aren't." She smiled. "There's no Shepard without Vakarian. I couldn't do any of this without you."

"No, I mean it. Wherever you go, whatever you do—I'm going with you."

"Good." She reached up, one small hand gentle on his scarred mandible. "I never want to go anywhere without you."

He didn't believe her; protecting her people was one of Shepard's strongest instincts. If she went into danger, he could easily see her leaving him behind, assigning him elsewhere, anything to keep him out of harm's way. But that was an argument for another day. For now, he was going to hold her, and kiss her, and make sure she knew in every inch of her body and soul how much he loved her. While he still could.