The room was practically empty. Just a QEC pad, a chair, and the equipment—recessed into the ceiling—to produce the massive haptic display hovering above the chair. Beyond the display were massive windows—or were they just picture-windows?—giving a spectacular view of the dying star. If they weren't picture windows, Shepard thought, they'd been treated to protect organic eyes from the dramatic backdrop. The whole room gave the impression of immense space, aided by the black mirror-finished tiles underfoot.

"Here we are. The heart of Cerberus," she mumbled, knowing it was overly dramatic but unable to help herself.

"Then they will not mind if we…trash it…before we leave," Javik said, pausing over the modern idiom. "It is not as if they were using such a thing as a heart."

Many would feel it was a bit rich for Javik to make that kind of a joke, but Shepard felt it was a good sign. With her headache finally gone, she had extra attention to spare for things like admiring the fact that Javik had just make a joke at all…and listening for any sounds indicating the presence of that rat Kai Leng.

"Spread out, keep your eyes peeled. EDI, be ready to help me with the interface?" Shepard asked.

"Of course," EDI replied, moving to stand behind the Illusive Man's chair as Shepard settled into it.

To Shepard's surprise, the haptic display rearranged itself, settling at a comfortable viewing height for someone of her dimensions. She half expected a glass of liquor and a cigarette to appear at her wrist, automatically dispensed, but neither did. That was alright; it would have been too over the top if it had happened.

"Shepard."

Shepard flinched at the sound of the Illusive Man's voice. "You're in my chair."

"And it's very comfortable," Shepard answered without turning around, though EDI immediately and fully took over the task of combing Cerberus' database for the Prothean VI data, allowing Shepard to deal with the Illusive Man without distraction. Shepard pushed herself out of the chair and came around to face the hologram. "It's also about the only thing you've got left. Cerberus is finished…Jack."

The Illusive Man's face didn't flicker, as if the name he'd used on the departure log didn't mean anything to him.

"You shouldn't have left Jana here."

"If she knew anything worth sharing, I might agree. But she doesn't. Not really," he answered imperturbably.

"Poor girl. 'Dear sir, we need you so much. I can help you.'"

"'Of course you can, dear,'" the Illusive Man finished. "Old tricks are the best tricks. There's a reason they get to be old. But you're wrong about Cerberus being finished. Oh so very wrong." He smiled superciliously at her.

Shepard's insides lurched, before she reminded herself that if she was trying to hit for reactions, he would be too.

"Do you think I'd just let you have Cronos Station if I wasn't already done with it? Did you really believe I didn't know you were coming?"

"I can see you don't put much faith in anyone here stopping me."

"Why should I, when I have accomplished everything I ever imagined? Well, almost everything."

"Yeah, like what you accomplished on Sanctuary? You're as bad as the Reapers. In fact, I'd go so far as to say you're just like them." Shepard plastered on her prettiest, sunniest smile, and was gratified to see a flicker in the Illusive Man's face. "Let's cut the bullshit. You can't control the Reapers. Can-not."

"The limitations exposed by the Sanctuary facility turned out to be merely a question of magnitude. And with the Prothean VI data, I have what I need to make that dream a reality."

"Clue me in, then."

"Talk to the VI yourself. I'm done helping you."

Shepard snorted. "Did you ever start?"

The Illusive Man heaved a sigh, like a tolerant principal dealing with a lippy student. "You think that because I'm willing to use the enemy's tactics that they're not still my enemy?"

"I look at what you do to your own people, and all I see is that enemy," Shepard retorted. "At the rate you're going, there won't be anyone left to save."

Again, the tolerance slipped, revealing a twitch of the features, and anger beneath, as if the long-abandoned conscience kicked, trying to make him listen. But he couldn't hear her over the Reaper on his shoulder. "Everything, Shepard—everything I've done has uplifted humanity!"

"You're ever monster scientist in the history books in one place."

"Not only above other species in our galaxy, but over the Reapers as well!" Shepard was gratified to hear the anger in his voice, the ring of denial there for anyone with ears. The simple fact that he was angry told her some part of him, like that tiny part of Saren, was still awake and kicking. It just couldn't do more than kick for attention.

"Except you've got nothing. The Rachni got loose; Overlord got loose; the adjutants got loose; the husks got loose. Everything you experiment with gets loose and starts killing people. And it's all on you. No one is going to remember you as a hero of humanity; you're the bastard that kept selling us out."

"That's not true," he growled.

"It's true," Shepard answered firmly. "You're going the same way Saren did. First it's 'they need me functional' then 'I can control it', then the implants, then goodbye sapient, hello Reaper. I've seen where this road goes. Don't walk it any further."

The Illusive Man's expression was pitying. "Laudable efforts, Shepard, I do applaud you. You should have been an actress, not a soldier."

"At least I can say I tried."

"And while you've been working on your lovely speeches and monologues, you've neglected to ask yourself one very important question."

"Which is?"

"Where is he?" The Illusive Man gave her a sunny smile. "I have to go, Shepard. I'm about to be late for a meeting. Don't overstay your welcome."