Requiem of the Goddess

by Yoshiyuki Ly

Goddess of mind, goddess of heart - closed-off without consent, She cannot flourish; unlocked to the universe in trust and control, She protects from all outside influences. Only one sits atop the throne of Shepard's subjectivity. Ashley/FemShep, Liara/FemShep. Miranda/FemShep, Aria/FemShep. Power plays, intense loves. Renegon Infiltrator FemShep. Spans the Mass Effect Trilogy.

54. Collector Ship

"The Voice In My Head" from Cyberpunk 2077

LIV. Collector Ship

(Shepard)

Pre-emptively, over these past few weeks, I had already gone through the pain of distancing myself from Miranda, mentally and emotionally.

Ever since Insomnia, witnessing those truths, I hadn't been able to see her the same way.

Today, I noticed the shift. I noticed the changes. Alone in my room, I lay on my bed, staring up at the stars, the violet of the kinetic barrier passing by the window above my bed. As the Normandy drifted along, going nowhere for the time being, I focused on the violet of those waves, of the barrier protecting my ship from harm. Having protected myself from more harm, I had changed my room. Again I had put away those model ships of the Migrant Fleet, that picture of Tali and me. I had removed Miranda's permissions to come up to my private cabin freely. And this violet up above, I now associated with someone else. That rich color of her skin, the markings over her face, the length and strength of her jaw, the power of her body and self-expression.

I'd made these changes for such obvious reasons. I knew Miranda was tripping. And I didn't have time for it. I'd been over it for a little while now. But getting to this point hadn't been easy for me. Not at all.

Ever since we left Palaven, throughout these past weeks, I'd had to force myself out of bed to interact with the team. To talk to them on their request. Because if they hadn't requested my presence, I would've stayed stuck to my mattress, curled up there in the depths of my despair. EDI's voice would call out to me, like a spot of light in the darkness, letting me know that so-and-so wanted to speak. And for a couple of days, I would just barely find the strength to do what I needed to do. No one noticed my struggles. No one spotted anything out of the ordinary with me. Not even my own girlfriend—as I had signed on for, in giving Aria my permission to keep these secrets for me. Somehow, Miranda not noticing had made everything worse, worsening the weight, weighing down on me more and more.

At the same time, I hadn't wanted her to notice.

I wanted to purge Miranda out of my fucking system.

Because as I stayed stuck in bed these past few weeks, I remained in terror of what she was. Just from how easily she could lie to me. Lie and lie and lie. Talking shit about Aria behind my back. Devolving into those petty ass games, turning into a child, gossiping with her new clique on the ship. That inflated ego of hers completely revolted me—from Miranda, Tali, and Liara. All three of them. The whole thing completely turned me off. And I despised myself for not seeing them like this sooner. I hated myself for falling for someone who could do this. So insecure, Miranda put other people down just to make herself feel better. That she did it to Aria made it even worse. I knew Miranda was too much of a coward to say any of that shit to her face. Not only that, but I felt my own protectiveness for Aria flaring up. Over the past two months since we first met, this moment had been building and building in the background:

And it felt like my heart had waited for permission to truly feel this way.

That permission kicked off as Aria and I spent these past weeks talking over our private frequency.

I had called her the day after leaving Palaven, as promised. Lying in bed, staring up out my window as I did now, I'd waited to hear her voice. And Aria had answered my call right away. She knew without a word that something was wrong. That immediate, serious concern from Aria had comforted me, more than I would've expected. Her concern was the only thing getting me out of bed throughout that time. She never allowed herself to curb her concerns, worrying about how she came off, worrying about caring too much. She never watered-down her worrying for me, instead expressing it in her own ways. Not with that typical panic. Not an out-of-control type of nagging, badgering, pestering, prodding.

From this long distance, Aria still conveyed her truest sentiments to me. We would stay on the line with each other, never hanging up. Endlessly staying with each other. She wouldn't leave me to suffer alone. Whenever she had business to take care of on Omega, Aria still wouldn't hang up. She would mute herself, keeping me with her like that. Likewise, whenever I went to go take care of something on the ship, I would mute myself. The calming, confident comfort we shared—even in a complete, muted silence—locked me to Aria in such profound ways, none of which I'd ever expected to feel. Not with her.

Growing dependence, burgeoning needs: even when we weren't muted, and all I could do was waste away in bed, Aria stayed present with me. Sometimes we would talk normally. But other times, I would be too emotionally-wasted to speak. Aria would still ask me, "Have you eaten today?" in a serious voice, with underlying worry there. I would tell her yes or no—and if the answer was no, then Aria would remind me to go get something. As much as she wished she were here to cook for me, she took care of me like this. Everything we had talked about in Insomnia proved itself to be true. That was all her truth.

Aria had even made a private chat room for us. She'd named it Afterlife, appropriately. Whenever she would have herself muted for a while, knowing I was out of it, she made sure to message me:

[23:02:21] Aria: I'm still here, babe.

[23:02:33] Me: Okay.

Each time she unmuted herself, and I heard that music from her club in the background, it got to me.

I associated those songs with our comfort. And then the following silence as Aria returned home.

Whenever she fell asleep—at such unusual times, almost like an insomniac—I stayed with her, too. Sometimes I busied myself by playing video games. But I'd had to ditch my usual N7 game, since it reminded me of every single woman from my past. In turn, it made me feel like a failure all over again, from not being able to keep anyone; from not being able to actually devote myself to a single one of them. So I stuck to my stealth games instead, realizing that I was essentially sneaking around with Aria now. And whenever I would fall asleep, she would still be there for me. Aria usually stayed up working on that email she promised to send. I did want her to send it. I did ask her to not hold back. Because she knew enough of why I had been in such a slump. I hadn't spelled it out. We didn't need to talk about it.

Though I knew Aria wanted to say something. Not to rub salt in my wounds. Not to take advantage of the so-called opportunity. So she waited for a while, choosing her words carefully. To make herself clear.

The other day, sometime before Pragia, I had felt better. I could get out of bed and talk to my teammates without forcing anything. Aria had asked if we could hang up for a bit, while she gave me my space. She hadn't said the obvious—that she was close to sending me those words, the precursor to her email—but I knew better. So I had gone off on my own to talk to Kasumi in the mess hall.

By the time Kasumi mentioned that Donovan Hock guy who had killed her partner, Keiji, the silent alarms had sounded. She and I had sensed that presence: Miranda and Liara spying on us through the Normandy's surveillance cameras. That had thoroughly ruined our nice conversation, and my mood.

Kasumi and I had felt that way, even sensing the obvious caveat.

We both knew Aria watched us in that moment as well.

We weren't sure how, and yet we felt her there in the ether.

We didn't mind Aria's snooping at all. Her intentions comforted me more—compared to Miranda and Liara's looming, treating me like a kid. Their prying condescended Kasumi and me both. Their controlling natures reminded me all over again: they didn't trust me, they didn't respect me to be my own person.

When I stormed into Miranda's office, it had taken everything in me to not blow the fuck up.

Remembering Jack's personal mission, I had brought Liara and Miranda down to speak with her instead.

The whole time, my hold over my rage had felt tenuous at best. Shaky. Like that live grenade of my anger could have fallen right out of my hands, detonating the Normandy at any second. I had forced myself to bite down on the grenade instead. At least until the time came to prepare for Jack's mission, before arriving to Pragia. I'd had that free time to myself. Back in my cabin, I'd found what I needed:

[14:27:12] Aria: Shepard, let me be honest. I know we don't talk about her. I don't want this to turn into a license to discuss her all the time. She's not my favorite subject, and I have no plans to change that. I realize exactly why you've been so careful not to bring her up. I just want to say this one thing to you. I only want to get this single point across. Whatever you do with the information, that's your choice.

[14:32:02] Aria: If I know you, your first impression of her was that she was fake. It's the same thought I had. You need a woman who will be real with you. With that said…is she really the one? You want to be with her—without Cerberus. Not to mention all the secrets, the lying, the insecurities. Maybe you're convinced everything would be perfect without those issues. But if you take those things away, is that still her? How can she still be the one in that case? It isn't her anymore. That's someone else entirely.

She was right.

Absolutely right.

One hundred percent.

If anyone had told me this before, I wouldn't have believed them.

If this had come up before my last visit to Insomnia, I would've denied the obvious.

So I had called Aria, then, explaining that I agreed with her. She'd sounded relieved. But we hadn't had a whole conversation about this. She knew I was still going through it. She knew I needed more time to come to grips with everything. I hadn't reasoned myself into this relationship with Miranda; I knew it would take more than mere reason to make me snap out of the rest.

Continuing on with our ritual, I had actually kept Aria on the line during Jack's personal mission. She stayed in the quiet of her home, listening. I listened to the calm of her breathing, staying calm, staying focused. Aria listened to my words, to my own breathing, to the shots of my sniper rifle, to the sounds of the rain pouring down over the abandoned facility. She could hear my teammates—what they said to me, what I said to them. She heard the entire drama between Jack and Miranda toward the end.

Aria had also heard when Miranda asked for a break. Not fully breaking up with me. But close enough.

I hadn't expected that to happen. This break. These changes.

When Aria in Insomnia had promised an acceleration, she hadn't minced her words at all.

Yet this whole turn of events had still caught me off-guard.

I remembered the color draining from my face. That sinking feeling of getting caught unawares, when I had cultivated an entire reputation for anticipating anything out there. I was pissed at Miranda, too, just from the way she gave up. Miranda had decided to stop trying with me. She had chosen to avoid the truth; to avoid stripping herself bare before me, finally showing me her truth.

And now, back to the present moment, I could breathe without her.

I could stop worrying about Miranda, about what she was up to, about all her lies and secrets and whatever else. I stopped fucking caring. She knew how dangerous it was for me to be in this state. Miranda had assumed I wouldn't get here; that I'd just sit around, do nothing except twirl my thumbs, waiting for her to get her shit together.

No.

Since when would I settle for that type of complacency?

Since when would I accept someone taking me for granted?

Why would I do those things when I knew she would never fucking change? She said it herself!

Of course I wanted to keep my word. Of course I wanted to honor her. Of course I wanted to love her.

But this two-way street had turned into a one-way lane a long time ago, and I was just now accepting it.

Escaping that insanity at last, I found Aria's promise to me.

Such perfect timing with her promised email:

From: Aria – I adore you.

Shepard,

You've been upset these past couple of weeks. I can't begin to tell you how it's affected me. But that's not important. This isn't about me. It's about you, how I feel about you. The way you make me feel—every single day. You asked me not to hold back in this message. So I won't. For the most part, anyway.

I first learned about you during a predictable time. The same time most people have heard of you. Tevos, the asari councilor—she and I had a thing together back then. I only wanted to fuck around, keep things casual. She wanted more. I couldn't give Tevos what she wanted, so she broke things off with me. Needless to say I was pissed off at her. Utterly furious. I remember that day I was in her office, blowing up over the information that she was seeing someone else. I was selfish. The whole thing felt like Tevos had humiliated me. That anger felt permanent, eternal. Until the news came on the vid screen. They were talking about Torfan, praising the feats you had pulled off on your own. And then they showed your picture. The way you looked in your Alliance uniform, so striking in your strength—I had completely forgotten my anger with the asari councilor. She ceased to exist for all I knew. All I cared about was you.

I've tried to hold back since then. Focusing on other things. Mostly my business on Omega. Our worlds were so different, yours and mine. It seemed like we would never cross paths, never have reason to meet one another. I didn't see the point in pining over you. So I abstained from you for as long as I could. But when we finally did meet, I knew I'd end up losing my mind over you. And now I have. I really have.

I've gone through a couple of different stages with this. After our first meeting on Omega, I went with my usual approach. I tried to appeal to your vanity, your ego. You flat-out ignored my attempts. I couldn't understand why. After all, I saw that look in your eyes when we first met. Barely-concealed as it was, I knew you were attracted to me right away. I fucking knew you wanted me. Probably more than you realized. But my whole approach with you—it was shallow. That shallowness was how I'd always picked up other women before. I didn't know anything else. That shallowness had also been safe for me, even though it was incredibly unfulfilling. So for a while, I was about to double-down. I sent my agents to follow you around, shadowing you everywhere, starting from your visit to the Citadel after you recruited Garrus. This continued up until and including your time on Earth in your hometown. I needed to keep an eye on you, figure out the best angle. But, again, I was still operating from that vain, shallow place.

When I read that report before Eden Prime, that's when I woke the hell up.

When I saw how important your relationship was, the meaning there…it changed my perspective.

When I realized you would never like me as I was—the whole thing enlightened me. For the first time in my life, I took an honest look at myself. I can admit the reasons to you: why I had such an inflated head, why I seemed to hide behind my power. It's just because of how pathetic and unstable I am. I hate the thought of being no one. Being irrelevant. Fading into obscurity. I need to matter, because I never felt like I mattered when I was younger.

No one liked me. No one gave a damn about me. And no one ever protected me when I needed it most. I found some sort of escape through dancing, and through combat. But beyond my aspirations as a dancer, as a fighter, I had to get by on my own. So I clawed my way up the social ladder, searching for that something. That something I needed—to prove to myself that I was someone. When I managed to take over Omega, that was my ticket in. That was my defining moment.

It's why I always say, "I am Omega." Because without my station, I am no one. For the longest, I enjoyed the attention, the power, the status that comes with my throne. I never cared about helping the people here. Everyone in my life had only hurt me, broken me, made me hate. I had lost faith, believing all people were useless, worthless, and irredeemable. I leaned into the whole ruthless dictator persona as my way of moving on from the past. So when you kept ignoring me, brushing aside my attempts to impress you…it triggered something in me. You made me realize I'm not as important as I thought I was. I suppose I also saw the transience of my position. As the plague proved to me, I could lose Omega at any time. And then I would end up with nothing. I would be right back where I started—down at rock bottom.

But when the curtains close, and I'm completely alone without you—I'm there. I'm at that rock bottom, broken and bleeding on my own. Being without you, watching another woman hurt you…it's painful. You're the one who gave me hope again. You helped me believe in people. You made me see that not everyone's so bad. Even if it's just you and my daughter as my lone exceptions, I'm at peace with that.

You can already guess how difficult this is. Actually letting you see me. Actually admitting these things. Like I said, I'm unstable. I accept that I'm a borderline maniac. I don't know if that will turn you off, but I have to be honest with you. I need attention. I need your attention. I can be demanding, impatient. I expect a certain competence from the people around me, which you clearly have in spades, so that will never be an issue with us. And I'm moody, selfish, vain, prideful…but I will always remember your needs.

If you think about it, Shepard, you and I are at a similar place in our lives. We've both gone through an endless streak of our exes hurting us, lying to us, and breaking our hearts. Seems like it's just been one disappointment after another. Maybe you're wondering what the point is. Maybe you're blaming yourself, thinking you're the problem. But I've come to believe that everything happens for a reason.

For all my bravado, I'm really not the best at being away from you. And I'm terrible at being sincere, genuine. I don't like showing weakness. The way I've lived in my life, I'm used to people always wanting something from me. Or wanting to take me down. Those survival instincts of mine colored our initial interactions before. I don't see the point in protecting myself from you anymore. And that's the point of it all. It's why I feel this strongly about you. Because you're not what I'm used to. You're not what I expect.

It's liberating. I need this freedom so badly.

You taste like freedom to me, and I want more of you.

You're so handsome and beautiful at the same time. You keep up with me intellectually. You challenge me on an emotional level. You fill my head with the wildest fantasies I've ever had—to the point where I constantly need you inside of me. I want you to fill me up. I want you to fucking dominate me, Shepard.

I'm used to being the dominant one in my life, in all things. The thought of you ripping my control away—it gets me so damned hot and restless. Tie me up, bend me over and take me. I know you have a sadistic streak, babe. I know you hold it back. Maybe you're afraid of it. But I need that from you.

And not just your sadism. I need your heart, too. You're such a sensitive soul, deep down. Emotionally, sexually, I already know how much you could please me. I can imagine how much you would make me feel—if I could meld with you. I want you to spread my legs open. I want to grip my arms around your back while you thrust your power inside of me. Or I could grip the roots of your hair while you keep your mouth between my thighs, soaking wet for you. Do you know how to keep a woman going with the firmness of your tongue? I think you do. I know how passionate you are. I want you to give it all to me.

This…was a lot more than I'd planned on sharing. I thought I would just say enough to "get this off my chest." But it's not that simple. Things have changed with us. It's because of what you're going through these days. I want to pull you out of it. I want to pull off the impossible and lift you away from this situation. I want you, babe. So fucking badly. At the same time, I'll respect whatever decision you make in the end. If this was a lot to take in, I'll understand if you need some time. I'm perfectly fine with us brushing this aside. Just contact me when it's time for the next mission. I'll be there as soon as possible.

But I just wanted you to know the truth. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Shepard. Nothing whatsoever. If you need me to kill someone, I'll do it. If you need me to move mountains for you, move entire worlds for you, I will fucking do it. If you need me to stay in this place, not having you at all, then I'll do it. I figure you're fine with me just following your orders. I'm happy to do that. Whatever you need.

I see the universe in your eyes. And I would be a fool to ever look away from you. No matter the cost.

-Aria

After reading her email several times, I found an enlightenment of my own.

I felt myself smiling over Aria's words. I truly did want to get to know her better—in that special way.

But there was just one thing. One last thing I needed to figure out. I had to be absolutely sure.

I went inside my bathroom, showering for the day. Thinking over Aria's confessions, her passions and attractions for me. Intermingling with her emotions, this long, dangerous thread continued to pull at me, tauter and tauter as time went on. Something of that thread threatened to cut at me. Something of that point continued to hang over my head, looming, and coming close to hurting me. Normally, I would've felt alone. I would have felt on my own, stuck in this see-through prison. But I allowed myself to lean on Aria, her assurances to me. I felt our closeness, as much as her sexed words had turned me the fuck on, despite this phenomenon going on, wringing me around and around. As much as I leaned against this cold vulnerability of my shower stall, this chrome, I felt safe within Aria's promised embrace.

Something of her ruthlessness reminded me of my own. Something of her warnings from Insomnia had flipped this switch, steadily locking her soul to mine. Something of Aria felt familiar, too. But in a good way. The best way possible. That selfishness blending into selflessness. Aria's willingness to put me first, even as she obsessed and obsessed. Her intelligence, her skill, her cunning, and her relentlessness…

Someone else had almost had this. Just wasn't quite there. Not in this good, positive, beneficial way.

I remembered those written words from her, so unexpected:

"I don't think you realize how much trouble you're in, Shepard."

I remembered it all as I left the shower, straightening my hair. Spritzing on this new, smoother cologne, to get away from those old sensory memories. Putting on my formal Alliance uniform. I held fast to my truest allegiances. I gripped onto this continued sense, lifted out of my body, entrenched in my mind.

And from Aria as my voice of reason from those rooms in Insomnia:

"For the longest, you acted a certain way around me. Like you didn't give a damn. Like you had everything all figured out. You were too busy sleeping with the enemy. You didn't realize how much danger you were in. But now, you're beginning to see. You're finally waking up to your reality. And you know now—if you don't listen to your instincts, she'll only end up destroying you. Just like Ashley did."

Back in Insomnia, Aria and Ashley had both given me these same warnings. About walking into a trap with Cerberus, with Miranda and the Illusive Man. If I kept going with Miranda, trying to make things work with her when they clearly weren't going to—that sounded like the imminent danger to me. That would've been foolish of me. That would've been the end of me. But why? How? Why would the Illusive Man all but arrange my marriage to Miranda? He'd acted like my damned father-in-law. And yet he planned on screwing me over in the end anyway? That seemed to be the case. It just made no sense.

What else made no sense:

Miranda's insistence on choosing Cerberus over me.

Jack said she was brainwashed. Indoctrinated into excusing extremism. Not by the Reapers themselves.

Saren had actually been indoctrinated by the Reapers, by Sovereign. I remembered it so clearly: the time we spoke on the Citadel. Our debate that had been stuck in my head ever since, about how he couldn't trust me with these responsibilities. That eerie blue glow in his eyes. The sign of his own indoctrination.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I took pride in these blues.

I focused on my own eyes. Laser-sharp, I drilled my sight through this glass, remembering.

"I see the universe in your eyes. And I would be a fool to ever look away from you."

The Illusive Man had that same affect over his irises. Unusual, unnatural.

The exact same eerie blue glow Saren had…

The Illusive Man was indoctrinated by the Reapers.

And I suddenly realized—

I wasn't supposed to be with Miranda at all. She was the danger…wasn't she?

That relationship with her was a trap. It was a fucking trap. The Illusive Man wanted me to feel like I was stuck with Miranda, just for our responsibilities. No matter what, I would've gotten fed-up with her. No matter what, I would've kept catching her in lie after lie after lie. Our bond would've gradually gotten worse and worse and worse. That would've left us with zero defenses against the Reapers in the end. Or maybe I would've tried anyway. Tried to board a Reaper, tried to disable it anyway. And I would've fallen to indoctrination. That truly would've been the end of our cycle. The pinnacle of a critical mission failure.

From the looks of things, the Illusive Man had almost gotten his wish.

With this epiphany, my first instinct was to protect my team.

If the Illusive Man was a tool for the Reapers, then he planned on obstructing us more. Interfering with the mission even more. He had some type of endgame planned. I just couldn't imagine what it might be.

Doubled over my sink, I barely stopped myself from panicking. My team needed me. I could worry about the Reapers later. I had to look out for my people. I needed to get them safely through this suicide mission, no matter what. Protecting them from the Illusive Man…and from Miranda if necessary.

I couldn't tell anyone. I couldn't tell anyone about this. Not directly.

My team gossiped too much with one another. I couldn't trust that this information wouldn't get to Miranda somehow. I couldn't trust that she wouldn't tell her boss that I knew. I knew it when I fucking met her—that she was a spy. And now I was right back to square one.

Miranda's entire existence acted as a betrayal to me. There was no going back from this. None.

Reeling with this revelation, I strengthened my resolve.

Protecting my team—Aria and Wrex included—meant more to me than salvaging my dead relationship.

So my decision to move on from Miranda, to turn the page…it wasn't irresponsible of me after all.

More like the exact opposite.

EDI's voice sounded for me: "Shepard, the Illusive Man would like to speak with you in the comm room."

"Thanks, EDI," I replied, remembering myself. Red flags, alarms going off—but I had to push forward.

---

Alliance pride I bore and wore as my crutch. I leaned on the strength within my officer's uniform, the decorations and prestige ribboned and badged and medaled over my chest. I let this strength lift me up as this elevator took me down. Down to the command deck and out to the CIC. I passed by my crew in their Cerberus fatigues, who each stopped to salute me. I gave them only the shortest of glances as I walked by—enough to appear as normal, to not completely ignore them and tip the Illusive Man off.

Not just him.

Miranda watched me through the surveillance feeds as well. Probably with Liara. Maybe even Tali, too.

They refused to learn their lesson. They refused to respect my wishes. They'd never leave me alone.

Hard-headed.

Miranda had finally revealed her true colors, all from Liara enabling her worst instincts.

I was so fucking done with them.

Especially because I did not feel Aria's eyes on me this time.

I almost felt she was too nervous to watch me. After sending that email, baring her soul like that, she actually couldn't bear to see me just now. I did enjoy this vulnerability on her, so very unexpected.

Passing through the lab, I found that Mordin wasn't here. I expected he was down in Engineering brainstorming with Legion for the simulation game. Would've been nice to see Mordin's friendly face at a time like this. But I had to make do on my own.

In the comm room, I activated the message terminal at the center table.

Joker let me know, "Patching the Illusive Man through, Commander."

From what I had gathered, those three—Miranda, Liara, and Tali—wouldn't be able to eavesdrop on my QEC call with the Illusive Man. They wouldn't see me at all until the call ended. EDI had access to the audio for these calls. I hoped she would listen in on this one. Because I needed her help soon after this.

Stepping through to this illusion, the spectacles of the Illusive Man's office greeted me—for the first time in a long time. Yet it all looked the same to me. That impossible size of the supergiant looming behind the invisible glass: the heat pulsed and throbbed as lava, colored as bright red and blues. That light obscured the Illusive Man himself. Standing across the way, his blackened silhouette moved in shadow. That once-perfect style of his hair looked slightly unkempt, with strands of his hair askew over his forehead, shadowed as thin streaks before the light. The Illusive Man's once-perfect suit, tailored for the gods, looked far more human: somewhat out-of-place and ruffled about, as if he'd just physically exerted himself. But in this moment, that near-two-dimensional shade lit his cigarette. With that light of his omni-tool lighting his wrapped death, I saw that eerie blue glow of the Illusive Man's eyes, confirming all. Blackening his lungs, the rungs of his exhaled smoke blew out and dissolved in danger.

"Shepard—we caught a break. I intercepted a distress call from a turian patrol. They stumbled on to a Collector ship beyond the Korlus system."

A strange gleam over his other hand, caught in the light of the supergiant.

Something soaking, something wet. Dripping down his wrist, his knuckles. Looked too thick to be water.

The Illusive Man slicked his hand through his hair. Whatever had drenched over his hand, he used that as his makeshift hair gel, fixing his style. The same he did with his suit: smoothing down his jacket, his shirt. Adjusting his freeform collar, unbuttoned. Rearranging his presentation. But purposely doing it now. Not before I'd arrived. Not before I could see him. So calculating, methodical. He chose to do this.

"The turians were wiped out, but not before they crippled the Collector vessel."

Starker and darker, the Illusive Man faced me. That blue glow highlighted through him, reminding me too much of Saren, too much of that fateful debate we'd had on the Citadel years ago. Maybe the Illusive Man's indoctrination was subtler than Saren's. Maybe the Illusive Man knew, but he still felt like he was in control. That was the whole point, after all. Still able to think. Not quite useless. Not just yet.

Yet as he paced around, nearing his chair, I noticed:

Not everything about this show was pre-prepared.

I caught some nerves in his walk. Some vague jitters in his step. His dress shoes sounded sharper over the pristine black shine of the floor. The Illusive Man hid it away once he sat down. Crossing his legs much tighter than I would've expected. But now that he was back in this proper light, that Cerberus orange around him, I noticed:

The Illusive Man had his cigarette in his left hand. His non-dominant hand. His right hand, which he'd used to fix his hair, fix his suit—I saw streaks of crimson there. Streaks of blood, partially wiped away from his last-minute grooming. And his knuckles looked deformed. Battered and bruised, bloody. Like he'd punched someone several times. Enough to hurt them, badly. Maybe even enough to kill them.

I never would've taken the Illusive Man as the type to get his hands dirty. Not literally. Not like this.

His uneven breaths, ever-so-slight as he regarded me. His emotions—a murder of passion, pure anger.

"I need you to board that ship and get some hard data on the Collectors. Find us a way to get to their homeworld."

As he bored his eyes into mine, I caught something out of the corner of my own:

Slumped over off to the side, there was someone there. Someone wearing a suit of his own. Balding head facing the outer windows, the stars beyond. From his face facing away from me, blood poured and poured. That crimson pooled out over the gleam of the black floor, smearing over that pristine surface. The red reflected the overwhelming dazzle of the supergiant looming over us. And that man's body, whoever he was—I sensed no life from him. No breathing. No movement. He was dead.

Fighting not to look at him, I kept my eyes to the Illusive Man's. And I kept up the conversation: "Hard to imagine how a turian patrol could take out a Collector ship."

The Illusive Man blew out smoke, obscuring his truest intentions—to no avail. "Reports indicate the hull's intact, but all systems seem to be online." Slightly nervous, he inhaled from his cigarette this time, trying to cover up his failings. He choose his words carefully: "They could be making repairs as we speak. I'm not saying it won't be dangerous, but we can't let an opportunity like this slip by."

I didn't believe a word of this mess.

Yet I still acted like I believed, questioning matter-of-factly, "If they had a patrol out there, why aren't the turians sending a recon team in?"

"They will. Eventually," claimed the Illusive Man, calm. He relaxed now that he thought I bought his lies. He thought he had me on his side. "But I intercepted the transmissions. In the meantime, we're feeding them false reports. You're close enough that you can be in and out before the turians learn the truth."

"Are you sure this information's good?"

"Information is my weapon, Shepard. It's good."

We needed to proceed with the mission.

We needed to stop the Collectors. We needed to stop them from abducting our human colonies.

As much as this whole thing set off my alarms, I had to move forward.

I had to keep up this ruse of trusting the Illusive Man as an ally, however temporary.

I just had to get my team through this suicide mission—and then we could move on. Without Cerberus.

"Send me the coordinates and I'll take care of it."

"Already sent," said the Illusive Man, already back to his old self. I made a point of looking at that corpse now, expecting some answers. "I'm sure you have a number of questions about him as well. There's no need to panic. That's Mr. Henry Lawson. He's Miranda's father. Or he was. He's no longer with us. I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this to anyone. Miranda included. She doesn't need to know."

"Why did you kill him?" I asked, neutral. "Why did you murder him like that? With your bare hands."

"You can figure out why. I can assume what Miranda's told you. Her tales about her father, how controlling he was. Perhaps she shared her confusions about him. The 'feeling' he would give her sometimes throughout her youth. How inappropriate it was. You can extrapolate what I've discovered."

I stared at that dead body, how the blood had poured out far and wide by now.

Completely unsubtle. Obvious. Brutal. Transparent. This wasn't how the Illusive Man operated. Not at all. He'd changed his methods so drastically. He'd switched up his entire MO. All to keep me under his control. All to drum up sympathy for Miranda. All to keep me with her. All to lead me to my ruin.

"Shepard, you're smart enough to see," he said, smoking anew. How ironic he would say that now. "Miranda's obsessions with keeping watch over you. How she uses EDI's surveillance to keep track of you, what you're doing, where you are. She watches you at all times, whenever she can. She may have asked you for a break, but her heart has yet to leave you. Still, it would appear her obsessions and her need for control are hereditary. She learned them from her childhood. Like father, like daughter."

Hardening my stare, I knew exactly what he meant. I let my hatreds show enough. Enough to fool him.

But the fact remained:

The Illusive Man would never be this overt. He knew his plan was failing. He was desperate.

"Commander," he asserted. "Miranda isn't herself these days. I understand she hurt you deeply. Not only in recent times, but throughout your entire relationship. She's trying to change, though some habits are hard to break. She misses you. You still love one another. You both have a great responsibility to protect the galaxy and humanity from the Reapers. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive her."

Incognito.

Hiding in plain sight.

Completely undetectable.

"I hear what you're saying," I responded. "I'll think it over."

"Good. As for the mission, I have a favor to ask. EDI is capable of broadcasting video and audio to me. She can stream your progress. I would like you to put this functionality of hers to use. Just this once."

"I get it—you're curious. I would be, too. I'll let EDI know."

"I appreciate it. Once you're aboard the Collector ship, establish an uplink with EDI as well. She'll mine their data for information regarding the Omega 4 Relay. We'll use that information to find a way through the relay, to reach their homeworld; put an end to them once and for all. Good luck, Shepard."

Ending the call, I returned to the comm room, never having left in the first place.

"Coordinates punched in," said Joker. "Let's go find us a Collector ship. You wanna head over now, Commander? Or should we wait for Aria first? I'm guessing you want our special guest with us!"

"She'll meet us there, Joker," I decided, leaving for the elevator. "I'm letting her know."

"Roger that."

Back in the safety of my room, I waited a bit before talking to EDI.

I wanted her to physically come up here, anyway. Just speaking with her voice wasn't enough.

Something told me she had definitely listened in.

For now, I sat over my bed. I took this time to think. Making up my mind on how to do this.

I needed Aria's help.

I fucking needed her.

Now more than ever.

"EDI, could you come up to my room? There's something I have to ask you. In-person."

"Yes, Commander. I will be there momentarily."

EDI wasted no time in arriving to the elevator, requesting permission to come up. I granted her access.

I left my door unlocked for her.

Before I knew it, EDI was already through the door, fast-walking across my room toward me.

"Shepard," she worried. "I believe you are aware I overheard your call with the Illusive Man. I did not have access to any video footage. Yet I have serious concerns about what I heard."

"I know, EDI… I know."

EDI also knew: "Miranda is exceedingly close to the Illusive Man. But it would appear she is oblivious as to his truest motivations. He is openly leading us into a trap. The way he staged that scene—it was a clear attempt to assess your loyalties, your own motivations. His behavior is…troubling to say the least."

"I'm glad you picked up on that. Needless to say, this is an emergency."

"You cannot go to Miranda with this," noticed EDI. "Do you worry about my friendship with her?"

"Yes," I said plainly.

"Shepard, you are my captain. You will always be my first priority. I would risk non-functionality for you. Any other friendships are a trivial concern in comparison. So I will discard those attachments if that is what you desire. Since Liara's return, Miranda has utilized my lower-tier surveillance feeds at an increased frequency. Her loyalties are clear. She will never abandon Cerberus. Not unless she is forced to. She is compromised. She cannot be trusted as your executive officer, or your second-in-command."

"My thoughts exactly. I need your help. Is there any way we can set up a contingency plan? If this mission today goes sideways, could we override Miranda's authority? If nothing goes wrong, I don't want her to notice. I don't want her to think anything's changed. Not until the absolute last minute."

EDI let me know, "I have created emergency backup roles on the crew manifest. These backup assignments would remain secret. Miranda, the Illusive Man, and any other crew member would not have access to view them. You may assign other crew members to these roles at any time. For example, in the event Miranda would normally take over as captain of the ship, I would instead give that authority to the crew member assigned the role in secret. She would only notice the change at this time."

I gave the order: "Assign yourself as the backup executive officer, EDI. If I'm gone, and Miranda's still aboard, then you have the deck. We're doing this for everything. Not just in case of an emergency."

"Assigning myself now."

There was still one another thing.

EDI could tell—she looked eager to hear the news.

"I have an exception," I declared. "If Aria is aboard while I'm out, then she has full authority. She'll take over as captain. Keep yourself as the backup XO. Don't tell anyone about this. Not Legion, not anyone."

"Understood, Commander."

"For the mission—you already know what the Illusive Man asked for. Once we're aboard the Collector ship, you can go ahead and broadcast our progress for him. But I need you to stay alert. Be on the lookout for anything. Anything that could possibly go wrong. I'm counting on you to have our backs."

EDI saluted me. "I will."

"Thanks, EDI… That'll be all. If you stay up here too long, Miranda and the Illusive Man will get suspicious. Return to your duties with Joker. Act natural."

EDI gave me a look of determination before leaving.

Lying back down over my bed, I was about to call Aria; let her know about the mission.

I opened my omni-tool, pulling up my will instead. I'd taken Ashley's name off of here before. Months ago. And now it remained empty. I felt like if I put a name down now, I'd tacitly admit defeat. I couldn't go into the mission with that mindset. So I closed it, put it away for now. We had to persevere today.

---

(Aria)

Soaking in my hot tub at home, I settled down, unwinding after a long day and night. This warm, warm feeling of the water around my body, and the exfoliation from my soaps helped soothe this stress away. I'd spent all day cleaning up behind the Blue Suns, their internal meddling. Whatever power vacuum they had going on was honestly none of my business. But because they did business on Omega, and I oversaw their key operations, I had turned into a kingmaker. So their potential leaders had spent the past day or so courting me, lobbying me, trying to win my favor. None of it mattered to me in the end.

I had managed to send Shepard that email, in between all of the drama. That was what truly mattered.

Waiting for her reaction, waiting for her response…I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous.

To pass the time, I looked over something else to do with her. Some human named Donovan Hock had sent me an invitation to his palace on Bekenstein, a wealthy and cutthroat human colony that specialized in luxurious exports. Apparently, this Hock guy was hosting a party on the first Monday of May, Earth-time, which was supposed to be quite soon. He'd have a runway show going on—The Thousand Faces of Commander Shepard—filled with models who all posed a striking resemblance to the real Shepard. Given that I knew her personally, Hock had invited me to the party as his guest of honor. I'd promised to be there, since it sounded like it could be fun. Though I was undecided on mentioning it to Shepard myself. I knew she wouldn't approve of the whole thing. But it sounded harmless to me, so I planned on heading over to the colony once it was time. Just a couple of more days now.

Given that Hock intended on upstaging the Met Gala on Earth, I'd done my research on it. The whole red carpet event and everything afterward looked intriguing enough. And I wished I could go with Shepard someday. Maybe once things settled down. Unless that was just wishful thinking. Yes, it probably was.

Then again, my pessimism felt like a shield. A shield against Shepard's possible rejection of my feelings. I had no idea how she would react, if she would react. She was technically single now. I had an unusually strong sense that she didn't want to fix her relationship. So maybe there was hope for us after all.

As much as my fucking feelings kept getting to me, taking over at times, I had to remember:

This needed to be her decision.

I couldn't force her. I couldn't chase after her. I couldn't smother her with my expectations.

Selfish to the last, I wanted her all to myself. But I couldn't have Shepard the way I wanted—not unless she ditched those other women around her. Her almost-ex, her crushes, the people from her past. I wanted her to leave them behind. I forever wanted her attention to stay on me. Just me. No one else.

Maybe Shepard's exes tolerated her wandering eyes.

I absolutely wouldn't. And I hoped she knew that.

For now, I let my own eyes wander, switching on my surveillance of the Normandy. Right on time, I found Lawson entering Thane's space in the life support area. Thane, that motherfucker. The last time I overheard him and Lawson chatting, he'd had the nerve to insult Shepard behind her back. Claiming she knew everything, as if she was stuck-up. Calling her self-righteous and judgmental. He had no fucking idea how smart she was, how sharp she was. So she had every damn right to be self-righteous and judgmental. Of course he didn't know that. Thane had no problems insulting his commander to her girlfriend's face. The fact that Lawson didn't even stick up for Shepard—it burned me up, hotter than this bubbling water in my hot tub. It enraged me even more than her little group. How she and Liara and Tali loved shit-talking me when they thought they were alone. Those cliquey, catty bitches, all of them.

Liara hadn't learned her lesson from the past. Her BFF Lawson hadn't learned a damn thing, either. She'd morphed into Ashley by now, full-stop. Did no one pay attention to what happened back then?

But, at the end of the day, I paid them no mind. They meant nothing to me. They were no one to me.

And as much as Thane and Lawson bored me to tears, I listened to them anyway.

Something about them didn't seem right. Something just felt off. I needed to figure out what it was.

"Hello, Thane," said Lawson, putting on that same old fake confidence of hers. "Are you free to talk?"

"Certainly, Miranda," he replied. "Join me."

Lawson sat in the chair in front of him, like always. "A while ago, we discussed how you killed for the hanar as an assassin. But when we met you, you'd become more of a freelancer. What changed?"

"I was asleep for a long time, yes. I paid no attention to what my body was asked to do. But then—" He did that thing again: "Laser dot trembles on his skull. One finger-twitch, he dies. Then the smell of spice on the spring wind. Sunset-colored eyes defiant in the scope. The laser dances away." Thane calmed, returning to a normal state. "My apologies. Drell slip into memories so easily."

"Was that one of your assassinations?"

"Yes, it was… A bystander noticed my spotting laser, and threw herself between me and the target. She couldn't see me, but she stared me down."

"Did you take the shot?"

Thane lowered his head. "Not that day."

"This bystander sounds important to you. Have you told me about her before? Was she your wife?"

"She was indeed. The one I buried on Kahje, as Kolyat protested."

Lawson encouraged him, "I'm happy to talk about her—if you feel comfortable doing so."

"Of course," allowed Thane. "I kept my work clear of our home life. I assumed that would be enough to protect Irikah. That memory I mentioned just now…that was her. That was how I met my wife. She saw my targeting laser as she walked by, and threw herself in the way."

"I guess she impressed you."

"She woke me up." Slipping into another memory: "Her body trembles. Not fear. Indignation. Her mouth moves. 'How dare you?'" And back again, like nothing happened. "I was trained to sacrifice myself to save others. How often does a civilian step in the way of a bullet, to protect someone they've never met? I thought she was the goddess Arashu. She met my eyes through the scope, and my purpose faltered."

"I can certainly see the appeal," said Lawson, sounding nostalgic. "So how did she go from blocking your shot to having your children?"

"I had to meet her. The memory possessed and endowed me. I fell on my knees before her. Begged her pardon. She introduced me to the world beyond my work. Eventually, she forgave me. Later she loved me. But as you know, I wasn't able to save her in the end. I let myself become complacent. I thought Irikah and Kolyat were safe. I stayed away too long, and my enemies came for her."

"That's awful. Who came for her?"

Thane explained, "Batarians. A slaver ring that was preying on hanar outer colonies. I'd killed their leaders. They paid the Shadow Broker to find out who I was. But they were afraid of me, so they went after her. I told Kolyat that I hunted her killers down. And when she passed, I returned to my battle sleep. My body hunted her killers. Murdered them. I was taught to grant death quickly, cleanly. To minimize suffering. Them—I let them linger."

"You were operating on instinct. By your own rules, you can't blame yourself."

"But I made the choice to hunt them. They're the only lives I've ever taken of my own choice. The only deaths on my own conscience. I also realize…I haven't spoken about my wife in—I don't think I ever have. I didn't have anyone left to tell it to."

Lawson reminded him, "You're looking for your son again. Trying to re-establish your connection to one another. That's important. You can't lose sight of that by dwelling on what should have been."

"You are correct," replied Thane, smiling. "Of course." He leaned closer to her. His wide, dark eyes brimmed with a gentle emotion. Holding it all back, he settled on saying: "Thank you for listening, siha."

"Hm? I think my translator just glitched. What did you call me?"

"Siha," he repeated, oddly mysterious. "Someday, I'll tell you what it means."

Well, that was…weird. Strange. Unusual.

Their whole conversation did nothing to get rid of this feeling I had about them. They only reinforced it.

I knew Lawson was gay. Case closed. But maybe Thane wasn't aware. She gave him attention, and that seemed to be good enough on his end. Thane seemed so fucking lonely without his son and his wife. He must not have cared about anything else. Because once they started talking about Shepard, about how she and Lawson were on a break…I spotted the change. How Thane withdrew into himself. Only asking the bare minimum. Giving equally minimal responses, but still listening. That psychology disturbed me.

Saving me from this hell, Shepard finally called.

I cut off the feed with Thane and his new beloved, answering:

"Hey, babe."

"Aria."

Again, something didn't seem right. "What's the matter? I thought you were doing better lately."

"I am doing better," promised Shepard. "Your email helped me. It really did. Thank you for sending it."

I felt my hands roaming my body, wading through this water. "If that's the case, tell me what you think."

"You intrigue the hell out of me, for one. There's this contradiction you have. You're such a powerful woman. You're absolutely stunning, confident, intelligent. No one can fuck with you. No one can tell you a damn thing. At the same time, there's a void deep in your spirit. A void you long for me to fill. You would do anything for me. That's the impression I took away from your message. Or is that not true?"

I wasn't expecting her to suddenly strip me down like this—as bare as I already was.

"…yes, that's correct. Why do you ask? Why is this important to you?"

"Because I'm sick of this constant cycle. I give someone my all, only for her to betray me in the end. She shows her true colors. I can't stand her anymore. The relationship's dead. And I have to move on. So if we're going to do this, I have to be sure first. I need your word that this cycle won't repeat with us."

"Shepard, I know how you feel. You're sick and tired. You're sick and tired of being sick and tired. I completely respect that. I'm nothing like those people from your past. I'm not faking my personality. I don't care enough about your exes to plot against them, either. Unlike them, I'm ride-or-die. I swear to you—this is who I am. What you see is what you get. How I am with you today is how I'll be when we're still together years later. Sure, you and I will clash; get into arguments from time to time. But it's perfectly natural. That cycle won't repeat with us. I promise you it won't. I refuse to let that happen."

"I believe you," said Shepard, as such a relief. "Is there something you need from me? Any promises."

Where to start… "There's quite a lot, babe. For now, I suppose there's just one major thing."

"Tell me. I'm listening."

"Listen, I'm all for individuality. Freedom. Sovereignty. But when I say I'm selfish, I mean that in a possessive way. I don't want you crushing on other women. I don't want you holding on to some special love for the ones who betrayed you. You say you'll always love them. That won't fly with me. I need you to drop them. I need to be the only one you have eyes for. I need your total and complete devotion. I need your exclusive loyalty. If I have it from you, then you'll have it from me. It's as simple as that."

"Consider it done," she promised—so soon.

"You—but how? How are you this sure? I thought this would be impossible. Or that it would take time."

Shepard wouldn't say.

"Okay then, fine," I settled. "Be mysterious and keep me guessing. It gets me off anyway. Win-win."

She laughed, low and deep. Too sexy.

"I'd love for us to talk more about this. But I do need some time to think. I promise I'm not going back. I just need a bit of time to adjust. I'm settling into this new reality with you. Can you be patient with me?"

"I don't mind at all. As long as I can look forward to…moving forward with you."

"You can, Aria," she promised, more. "Let's take this one day at a time. If that'll work for you."

I smiled so freely. "That does work for me. I know you want to be a gentleman. I appreciate it."

"Of course I do. You deserve it. There's another reason why I called, though. It's important."

"What is it?"

"The next mission with the Collectors just came up. I need you with us. How soon can you leave?"

Standing up all of a sudden, I told her, "I'm on my way now."

Shepard paused.

She heard this draping waterfall down my body. And it sent her imagination flying, soaring high.

"Were you…taking a bath?"

"Yes, babe, I was," I told her, stepping out. "In my hot tub. I'm drying off now, getting dressed. But, since we have a mission, I'm not going to tease you. I'll just let you keep wondering about my body instead."

The way Shepard grunted, forcing her self-control—I absolutely adored her for it.

I couldn't wait to drive her crazy; break that control of hers, all for me. Later on. Once it felt right.

Above all, Shepard knew she had an upgrade with me. The shit her exes had put her through—I'd learned from them, and I refused to repeat their mistakes. With everything I'd gone through—I trusted Shepard to be loyal, and for her to take care of me. It took some time…but I loved that we'd finally come together like this. I loved that I had gotten through to her. And I loved that I no longer had to dwell on the past. We could both move on with each other. The days of us suffering in angst were officially over.

"So then, tell me about this mission. Give me the rundown. Where are we going? What's our objective?"

This juxtaposition of Shepard's professionalism in giving me this rundown, and how she clearly held back her other, stronger impulses—she had me smirking and smiling, smiling and smirking as I readied myself for the day. I would give her the occasional hum of acknowledgment. Just to let her know I paid attention. But I did it with my lips firmly pressed together, putting pressure on these dirtier sentiments of mine. They nearly slipped out of my mouth a few times. But I remembered my own professionalism.

We stayed on the line together as I boarded my ship, following the coordinates Shepard had sent over.

As I made my way over, I wondered more about her. Shepard gave me this clear sense: that she needed me now more than ever. Even more so than these past few weeks when she hadn't been herself, pre-emptively mourning her losses. This need from her seemed deeper. Much deeper than any lost relationships. Whatever it was, Shepard kept me closer because of it, even as these stars separated us.

---

Reaching the Normandy out in the middle of nowhere, I'd prepared myself mentally for the mission.

Shepard had made herself clear.

She wanted us to focus on the mission first and foremost. Strictly business. She promised we would see each other again soon enough: once Mordin had that simulation game ready. We would meet up on the Citadel then; spend some real quality time together. Until then, I would have to enjoy that party on Bekenstein, all while giving Shepard the time she'd asked for. It was difficult, because I hadn't seen Shepard in-person in about a month. But I did promise to be patient for her. For just a little while longer.

A little while longer was nothing compared to the few years I had spent without her. Centuries, even.

I felt the culmination of those years, boarding Shepard's ship for the second time. She awaited me right at the airlock, wearing her N7 armor. That awe of her sniper rifle hung over her back, folded neatly. My first instinct was to go to her. But then I noticed her entire team hanging out in the CIC nearby. They watched us with their own reactions, though everyone seemed…enraptured. In their own ways. I wasn't sure what they noticed between Shepard and me. But it was enough to keep them all dead quiet.

"Aria."

"Shepard."

She met me with such a handsome sternness. I stood close enough to her, admiring Shepard without her helmet. This severity of her sunlit stare; the natural sheen of her golden brown complexion; the long, sharp, defined shape of her face. Very easy on the eyes. I caught wind of her new cologne, too. This smooth smell, I hadn't expected. It certainly inspired this focus in my gaze, which I hadn't meant to give. Shepard returned my focus, speaking without words how much she needed me here. I wanted to reach out and kiss her. Or I wanted her to take charge and kiss me first instead. Maybe I gave myself away, openly checking her out like this—but I couldn't help it. Besides, this look in her eyes…she made me feel like I was the only woman in the galaxy.

Joker had turned all the way around in his seat, practically drooling over the sight of us together.

Shepard knew, and brought me over to him anyway. Chivalrous in her intentions, she pressed her hand over my waist, guiding me along with her. Closer to these bright orange lights of the Normandy's main control console. Closer to these open shutters, revealing our desolate place out in this abandoned space. I forced my stronger focus, even as I felt the weight of Shepard's decision. She had me stand next to her at the helm. As her equal. She treated me as if I could have been her ship's captain—if necessary. Such an unmovable power about her, one she exuded, siphoning to me with or without meaning to.

Knowing how many eyes we had on us, I merely folded my arms, watching Shepard do her thing.

Joker quickly cleared his throat, announcing, "We have a visual on the Collector ship, Commander!"

EDI sat in the co-pilot's seat next to him, informing us, "Very low emissions. Passive infrared temperatures suggest most systems are offline. Thrusters are cold."

"That thing's massive. How the hell did the turians take it out?"

Shepard appeared to have her own theories about this. Yet she chose not to voice them.

EDI went on, "Ladar scans do not detect any hull breaches on the side facing us. I detect no mass effect field distortions. It appears the drive core is offline."

"Rendezvous in thirty seconds," said Joker. He looked up at Shepard, genuinely wanting to know: "You decide who you're bringing with you? Doesn't look like you'll face any resistance inside. No clue how long that'll hold for. Maybe you should play it safe? Bring the whole team along?"

Shepard had already made up her mind. "I'm playing it safe in other ways. Aria, EDI—with me."

I retrieved my breather for the ship, doubly-aware of my shotgun holstered behind me.

EDI exited her seat, giving me a warm smile. She already had her own shotgun equipped. Ready to go.

I was surprised Shepard had only chosen to bring the two of us along. EDI and myself. But we followed her down the bridge anyway. I of course had no reason to question her decision. She knew best, after all. Though I became hyper-aware of everyone's eyes on me. We passed the group in the CIC—Legion, Zaeed, Garrus, Mordin, Jack, Tali, Alenko, Kasumi, Samara, Thane, James, Javik, Liara, and Lawson. I caught the clear motivations behind their individual stares. Jack, Zaeed, and Kasumi each looked amused by the whole thing, smug and smirking. Especially because Lawson looked like she'd just seen a ghost, as offended and blindsided as she was in this moment. She hadn't expected Shepard to just bring EDI and me along. She hadn't expected this high-profile snub. Everyone else could put the pieces together.

Rumors had gotten around about Shepard's relationship. They all discussed it in something called a TRS. The team referenced it a lot. I had no idea what this TRS was, but I definitely planned on finding out.

Liara watched me like a fucking hawk as I walked by her. Tali did, too, beneath that mask of hers.

Meanwhile, Samara welcomed this change. I couldn't know why. But the justicar regarded me in peace. I wanted to ask her about it. There was no time.

Shepard led EDI and me onto the elevator; away from that whole spectacle, and down to the cargo hold. At the shuttle, Shepard held her hand out to me. I accepted her gallantry, pleased to let her prop me up like this. And when I sat down, she sat next to me—though not as close as I wanted. Just slightly closer than she would have before, had she still been in denial about us. EDI settled into her seat across the way. As the shuttle took off, I noticed how comfortable EDI was with me. Already. Even after only teaming up for one other mission before this. Like Samara, she seemed so happy with me. Why, though?

"Shepard," said EDI. "Should I also stream our progress for the rest of the team?"

"That's fine," allowed Shepard. "Go ahead and set up the link. The others can watch from the bridge."

"Understood."

So we would have an audience.

Good. I wanted to show off a little; prove to them why Shepard specifically chose to bring me with her.

As she put on her N7 helmet, I followed her lead, settling my breather over my nose and mouth. The shuttle touched down, opening to the strange darkness of this ship. EDI and I stayed after Shepard, shotguns drawn. Our commander led the way forward. Following her, focusing on her, I still took care to take in our surroundings. These polished walls and doors, the craggy surfaces, all of black and silvers and a distinct Collector shade of brown. Those fleshy sacs hanging from the ceiling, sprouting from the ground. And this silence. An eerie obscurity, devoid of life or purpose. Nothing existed here. Not really.

Shepard's teammates could see everything through EDI's broadcast.

Even the way these sacs kept dripping some disgusting substance down from the ceiling.

I heard Jack's voice through our radio: "Never seen a ship like this before."

"I love what they've done with the place," joked Garrus.

Mordin commented, "Unusual ship design. Hard to track lines, angles. Disturbing. Somewhat resembles insect hive."

Javik said, "This design resembles the ones from my people long ago. But this one is…sterile. Lifeless."

"This looks familiar to you?" asked Liara.

"Yes. We did not have those—sacs, however. Those are strictly from the Collectors. They are twisted."

EDI informed us, "Penetrating scans have detected an access node to uplink with Collector databanks. Marking location to your hardsuit computer." As we kept going, she analyzed more: "Shepard, I have compared the ship's EM signature to known Collector profiles. It is the same vessel we encountered on Horizon and Eden Prime."

Tali speculated: "Perhaps the colonists are still there…if they're still alive."

"Doubt they're alive," said Alenko. "That'd have to be a miracle. Not feeling too hopeful, honestly."

Through these labyrinthine hallways, those craggy surfaces took over everywhere, like pure rock growing out from the ship, forming more walls filled with hives. The overall design appeared more and more alien as we progressed. I spotted a number of coffin-like pods, each oozing with some noxious gas.

"Same containers as Horizon," noted Mordin. "Only empty."

"Must've been horrible," lamented James. "Trapped in these pods. Helpless. Completely at the mercy of the Collectors. I've seen what they do up-close. Not something I'd ever wish on my worst enemy."

Down another hallway, we found a bunch of dead humans. Just piled up in a corner, tossed aside and forgotten about. So deformed and decayed, the corpses had blended into each other, dead flesh molding into other dead flesh around it, turning into some giant mass of limbs and bones and armor.

"The hell happened there?" asked Zaeed.

Kasumi didn't like it. "Whatever it is, it's making my stomach churn…"

Liara wondered, "Why would the Collectors just leave a pile of bodies lying around?"

Mordin knew, "Test subjects from control group. Discarded after experiment was over."

"They're dead," stated Shepard. "Nothing we can do. Keep moving."

We passed by more of those dead bodies, more of those pods everywhere. But after a while, we found what looked like an open lab. A series of pods hooked up to machines; and a working control terminal there in the center. Shepard went over to the terminal, examining it. EDI and I watched her back. Playing it smart—just in case—we stayed on our guard, keeping an eye out for anything.

Javik could already tell what this was. "The Collector nearest to you is glowing. They were experimenting on one of their own. One of my people who had turned. We heard tales of the Collectors running such tests on our fallen comrades. It is possible they have continued this practice."

"EDI?" asked Shepard.

EDI confirmed: "After scanning the available data, Javik appears to be correct. The Collectors were running baseline genetic comparisons between their species and humanity."

"Well, they're harvesting us for a reason. Are they looking for similarities?"

"I have no hypothesis on their motivations. All I have are preliminary results. They reveal what we already know—that the Collectors were once Protheans. They are no longer strictly the same. The Collectors' genes show distinct signs of extensive genetic rewrite. The Reapers have repurposed them to suit their needs, even in the centuries after Javik's cycle ended. Though I also see…something troubling."

Samara had to ask, "What could be more troubling than the genetic perversion of an entire species?"

"Yeah, what she said," added Joker.

"The human bodies we discovered earlier," said EDI. "They were indeed test subjects. That control group…possessed a similar genetic makeup to the commander. The Collectors were attempting to recreate Shepard's person. They wished to study her—perhaps her immunity to indoctrination. They tried to replicate her immunity in the test subjects, and then in the Collectors themselves. They failed."

Lawson finally spoke up, "But that's impossible… They should know better. Why would they even bother?"

Legion told her, "Replicating Shepard-Commander's immunity is a means to expose her faults. If the Collectors can recreate Shepard-Commander's immunity's successes, they can also deconstruct her immunity's failures. Without Shepard-Commander's direct participation, such experiments would require a significant amount of test subjects."

Shepard sounded pissed off—"Wait a minute, Legion. Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Everyone went way too quiet.

They couldn't say it, so I spelled it out for them:

"Sounds pretty clear to me, Shepard. The Collectors are abducting your species—because of you. They're trying to replicate your immunity to indoctrination. All those innocent colonists are their test subjects. It's possible this isn't the only reason for the abductions. But it's at least one driving factor."

These piles of human corpses around us.

The countless colonists the Collectors had abducted already.

Shepard brought her hand to her helmet, wracked with guilt. She immediately felt responsible.

No one else knew what to say.

And I found before me my first real challenge with her. Was I supposed to say something? Touch her shoulder, offer words of encouragement? Was it worth exposing her emotions to the rest of the team? I didn't want to embarrass her. I didn't want to force Shepard to save face. But if I held my tongue…that wouldn't be true to my word. I had promised to take care of her. So if that meant compromising—stepping out of my comfort zone from time to time—then I would do it. Doing nothing felt worse.

"The mission hasn't changed," I reminded her. "We're putting an end to the Collectors. One way or another. By your lead. This is all the more reason to destroy them once it's time. Let this motivate you."

Shepard regarded me through that slot of her helmet. She found her resolve again through my eyes.

"You're right, Aria. Let's find what we need before the Collectors come to salvage this place. Move out."

Just before leaving, Shepard noticed several in-tact weapons on the ground. She searched the pile, finding a sniper rifle—the same one she already had—along with an assault rifle and a shotgun. She picked up that heavy Claymore shotgun, looking to me.

"Did you want this?" she asked. "Either of you."

"Looks way too heavy," I replied. "The one I have weighs a ton as it is. I'll have to pass."

EDI nodded, thinking the same.

Shepard gave a thoughtful hum, abandoning the errant guns and continuing ahead.

We walked through another narrow area, filled with more pods. Those closed containers glowed an unnatural gold. And the wide opening up above gave off an ethereal, unholy light of the same shade, filled with dozens and dozens of pods sticking out from the wall. More on the ceiling, too. Everywhere.

Liara sounded subdued for some reason. "More of those strange pods…"

"There appear to be hundreds," noted Javik. "And I wonder how many are full. Possibly all of them."

EDI reported, "I detect no signs of life in the pods, Shepard. It is probable the victims inside died when the ship lost primary power."

Up a winding ramp, we kept going, higher and higher as these paths led us to some unknown end.

Narrower and narrower this path became, with a single ethereal light guiding us at the very top.

And even though no one appeared to be around, I refused to let my guard down.

Shepard seemed focused enough. She seemed okay. But I couldn't shake this feeling. This feeling that so much more awaited us on this ship. And I knew that Shepard knew. She was prepared. Prepared for anything. So that made things easier for me. She had my life in her hands, and I had hers in mine.

"Commander," said Joker. "You gotta hear this. On a hunch, I asked EDI to run an analysis on the ship."

"I compared the EM profile against data recorded by the original Normandy two years ago. They are an exact match. This appears to support Aria's observations about the Collectors' motivations."

"Looks like it," agreed Shepard. "Way beyond coincidence."

I remembered hearing the news of Shepard's death that day. Her ship attacked by some unknown vessel. This vessel. I had never felt an anger like that before. Those memories would only distract me at a time like this—so I sealed them away. But I could admit to myself that I wanted some payback.

The end of this tunnel opened outward to the rest of the Collector ship. Taller and wider than any building I'd ever been in, this place looked massive. Beyond massive. Nearly impossible in scope, this felt more like a part of nature outside. Twisted and fucked up, but still more expansive than anything that should've been on a single ship. A network of pods lining everywhere, webbing along the rise of these rounded walls, with pockets of lights like windows. More of those crags raised up everywhere, knifing the view of the 'sunlight' awaiting us on the opposite side. We headed toward those rays of light, expecting to find something more on the other end. Something that might explain this giant mess.

"So many pods," commented Mordin. "Could depopulate all Terminus Systems. Still wouldn't fill them."

Tali worried, "Are they going to target Earth?"

"They won't," declared Shepard. "Not if we stop them."

The false sleekness of this ground, this pathway glowed with the shine of those rays. Walking just behind Shepard like this, I almost saw her in that light. As if the Collectors had devoted their entire operation to mirroring her, reflecting her. But they'd only managed a poor imitation, rife with decline and decay.

At the end of the road, we found a platform surrounded by some sort of tubes and machinery. Those tubes snaked down to the depths below, webbing from the top of that crag. What were they for?

"Weird that no one's around," said Zaeed. "No Collectors at all. Nothing. Watch your back, Shepard."

He didn't have to tell her twice—or at all, really.

Shepard went to the command console, gesturing for EDI to join her. I watched their backs as always.

"EDI, see if you can get anything useful from the data banks."

"At once," complied EDI, interacting with the green glimmer of the console. "Data mine in progress."

For some reason, my hands started sweating against my shotgun. The moisture almost seeped past my fingerless gloves. I lightly activated my biotics, letting this blue and white glow around me. Unexpected, I found that this sound helped Shepard somehow. She started breathing a little easier, listening to this soothing from me, however unintentional. Had she felt this from me back on Eden Prime? I couldn't tell.

What mattered most—Shepard was back at full-capacity. Back at two hundred percent. I just knew it.

Joker sounded rattled. "Uh…that can't be good."

Something in those tubes flowed through all of a sudden.

Shepard sounded prepared. "Joker, status report."

"Major power surge. Everything went dark, but we're back up now."

EDI didn't look so calm. "I managed to divert the majority of the overload to non-critical systems… Shepard, it was not a malfunction. This was a trap. There is someone else in the system. The Collectors are attempting to breach the ship!"

This platform suddenly raised up, taking us for a ride. Spinning in this slow madness, I had no idea where the fuck we were going. I grabbed Shepard's arm. Trying to keep her steady with me. She leaned into my hold, balancing herself against my support. EDI somehow stayed still where she was, gripping the chest-high walls back there. She did all that while fighting whatever the hell attacked the ship's systems.

"EDI, stop the breach," ordered Shepard. "Whatever it takes. Don't let the Collectors get my ship again."

"Yes, Commander. I need to finish downloading the data before I can override any systems."

Another platform flew toward us, bringing a bunch of Collectors with it.

"Alert!" said Legion. "Hostile contacts inbound."

Another platform and another and another—a near-platoon of hostiles came right for us.

Knowing how exposed Shepard was out here, left with nowhere to hide, I acted on instinct.

Holding a wide stance, holding my arms up—I erected a biotic field around us just in time. An endless volley of bullets and golden particle rifle fire came straight at us. Everything bounced right off of my defenses. Shepard readied her sniper rifle, getting to work. I held up her only cover to shoot safely, as exposed as we were on this damned platform. I protected her while she fired off her perfect shots. One by one, she dropped those Collectors shooting at us. Sometimes even more than one at a time—Shepard had that godly accuracy to pop off multiple heads in a row, downing anyone lined up together.

"Forty-one percent complete," said EDI.

The Collector troopers, the captains, the giant hulking Scions, and those possessed units: Shepard killed them all on her own. Having to reload after every single shot didn't seem to faze her. I held onto those clacking sounds of her reloading, her heavy duty movements, as her eyes focused on her next target. She felt the pressure. She kept going. She kept up this art form of her skills as a sniper, practically shooting into that false sunlight across the horizon. I forced myself to hold up this barrier for her, with these platforms filled with more Collectors coming for us, one after another after another after another.

"Holy shit, Aria," spoke Jack, in awe. "How the fuck are you still going?! Aren't you tired by now?"

Because I knew—if I dropped this bubble, the Collectors would cut right through Shepard's shields.

Shepard knew the same—she kept downing our enemies, thinning the gunfire. Making this a bit easier.

Teamwork with my partner…even in the most impossible situations.

"Goddess," breathed Liara, incredulous.

Alenko couldn't believe it, either. "This just seems…impossible. I mean look at that onslaught!"

"Keep it up, Shepard," encouraged Garrus. "Your shots are just right. They're falling fast."

"Eighty-four percent."

"Hey, EDI!" yelled Joker. "Can't you speed this up?! Yeah, Aria and Shepard are kicking ass, but…"

"No, Jeff. I am simultaneously fighting Collector firewalls in over 8,000 nodes. I am tasked to capacity."

Then the worst timing when Shepard said, "Running low."

She reloaded again. Fired off another shot. Shepard didn't have enough thermal clips left. Not after firing off her Widow enough times to end an army. She needed to save at least some for our escape soon. But those fucking monsters kept on coming. Three or more platforms swirled toward us, carrying more Collector troopers, more Scions, more of those possessed captains and guardian and drones.

And the amount of cover on this platform was pathetic.

"Shepard, get behind me," I told her. She quickly did as I said, pressing her back against mine.

Charging every ounce of my rage, I took the energy from my biotic field, shooting it, thrusting it forward.

The shockwave to end all shockwaves: I sent those fuckers flying, sent the other platforms off and away.

I let myself lean over, drained. Almost completely drained. But I didn't see any of those platforms coming back; and I had Shepard's support, with the way she held my shoulders, reinforcing my strength with her own. Feeling her against me like this, I felt invincible. Like I could do anything. She revitalized me, encouraging without words that I take this moment. I just needed to catch my breath. I was fine.

EDI came through: "I have regained control of the platform, Shepard. I also managed to successfully thwart the Collectors' efforts. They attempted to infect the Normandy with a virus. Had you not unshackled me, it is possible the virus would have escaped my notice."

With her control, EDI took our platform back down to where we came from.

"What would've happened if they'd infected the Normandy with that thing?"

"There is a chance the virus could have caused instability in other systems. The Collectors intended on tracking the Normandy's location. Once they found our location, I would have lost control of the ship's propulsion and primary defense systems. We would not have been able to escape. I believe they would have attempted to abduct the crew. I could not thwart the abduction if I were still shackled as before."

Shepard praised her, "Then I'm glad you stopped that from happening. I knew I could count on you."

EDI gave a proud smile. "I always work at optimal capacity."

"Did you get what we needed?"

"Yes, Shepard. I found data that could help us successfully navigate the Omega 4 Relay. I have also found the turian distress call that served as the lure for this trap. The Collectors were the source. It is unusual."

"Why is it unusual? What are you getting at?"

"Turian emergency channels have secondary encryption. It is corrupted in the message. It is not possible that the Illusive Man would believe the distress call was genuine… I found the anomaly with Cerberus detection protocols. He wrote them."

If there was ever a time for Shepard to be surprised, caught off-guard, that time was now.

Except she just…stared at EDI. No reaction whatsoever. EDI stared back at her with the same look.

Joker asked, "The Illusive Man knew all this? Why would he send us into a trap?"

Zaeed blurted out what I wanted to say—"That son of a bitch sent us straight into Collector hands!"

Jack snorted. "Big surprise there."

Lawson dug her own grave: "There has to be some other explanation! The Illusive Man wouldn't do this to us. He…he just wouldn't!"

The fucking fury steaming from Shepard's entire aura, straight through her armor.

If she said anything in this moment, she would've exploded.

Kasumi actually clapped back instead—"Hey, Miranda… Considering what's going on between you and Shepard right now, maybe that's not the smartest thing to say. Who knew you were this naïve?"

"I don't like what you're implying," snapped Lawson. "You have some nerve."

"Not really. You're the one who keeps putting her foot in her mouth, then wondering why people turn against you. It's not a good look. I don't know why I expected better from you. In that sense, I'm not implying anything at all. Just stating a fact. You're thoughtless and hurtful and I'm not here for it."

Tali and Liara gasped, seriously clutching their imaginary pearls.

Jack and Zaeed howled with laughter.

Oh, this was delicious.

"Whoa," said James, pointlessly so. "That…kinda came out of nowhere."

"Nope," corrected Jack. "After what the cheerleader did on Pragia, Kasumi's protective of me. That's all."

Alenko whined about decorum: "Okay, sure, but do you really have to air it out in the open like this?"

"Enough," stated Shepard. "Deal with this mess after the mission. I don't want to hear it."

Some kind of lightning storm started up overhead. Was that from the ship deciding to wake up now?

"Uh… Commander," called Joker. "We've got another problem. The Collector ship is powering up. You three need to get out before their weapons come online. I'm not losing another Normandy!"

"I do not have full control of their systems," explained EDI. "I will do what I can. The shuttle is currently waiting for extraction. Sending coordinates to your hardsuit computer. Expect hostiles in our path."

Shepard grabbed my hand, cloaking with me.

"EDI, activate your tactical cloak. Come on, let's move!"

The three of us, invisible, hurried through the ship. But Shepard fucking hurried. She took off! She bolted through these hallways closing in on us. And I barely kept up with her. Just by my own luck and determination, knowing that Shepard clutched my grip and gripped onto me. She refused to let me go. And even though I was already exhausted from pushing myself earlier, I kept running. I tried and tried.

She had somehow taken me on a bullet train, pulling me along like this.

Needing to keep up with her, needing to reach her, I forced myself to stay at her pace.

Groups of Collectors showed up across the way. Across the rooms, across the halls, across these giant open spaces. Those buzzing sounds from their wings filled the air as the troopers descended. Those clicking sounds they made filled the atmosphere as they searched and searched for us, weapons drawn. As hard as they looked, they couldn't spot us anywhere. Not with Shepard bolting through the place like lightning. She guided me along, keeping me with her in this reality, this allegory of our reality and our situation these days. And I had wanted her, needed her to do this for so long; I forced and forced and forced myself to run with her. I pushed my legs as hard as they would go.

But my lungs wouldn't keep up. Burning now, they'd enflamed. My energy couldn't replenish itself. I felt jealous of EDI, the way she could just keep running as a synthetic, not needing to worry about her own organs working against her. I could barely breathe in my breather. This transparent material over my face fogged up with my failures, my weakness. I had no goddamned control whatsoever. Like Shepard pulled me along and my mind willed myself to follow, except my body couldn't physically stay with her.

I barely realized when we stopped at a closed door.

"EDI?" said Shepard, not winded at all. "We've got a problem here."

"A temporary setback on Firewall 3217. Rerouting commands through Firewall 7164."

A break…maybe.

Shepard held me steady. She pressed us against the chill of this huge door—while a fucking Praetorian floated across the way. That giant clawed monstrosity just casually wandered around looking for us. All of its Collector friends ambled through the room on foot. Those zombie husk things moaned and groaned in an open-mouthed agony, their constant wailing echoing everywhere, getting on my nerves. Of course Shepard sensed my mood: she placed her hand along the back of my neck, pulling me close to her chest. She reset me back to where I needed to be. Even if it was only temporary.

EDI managed to open a door on the opposite wall. Quietly this time, we made our way over there. Over to these narrow pathways—I recognized our progress. Down the steep drop was that open lab, close to the entrance. I expected us to go around. Then all of a sudden, Shepard full-on picked me up. She jumped down this sharp drop like it was nothing. No big deal at all. And then EDI followed after us.

For the sake of my pride, Shepard was kind enough to set me back down. She grabbed my hand again and had us sprint off. Back down to the shuttle. Back down to that opening, out to the stars watching over us. Just this last thing. This swarm of husks taking up too much space, making it impossible for us to pass by undetected. Impatient as hell, I used my free hand: sent a Flare blast at the whole group, disintegrating them in seconds. Shepard and EDI ran with me through the rise of violet smoke left behind. And another swarm—EDI dealt with them, blasting her Snap Freeze, congealing them in time.

"We're out of time, Commander!" said Joker. "We have to go!"

Making it to the shuttle, the door opened.

Shepard hustled EDI and me inside first. She followed after us, hurrying through.

Just as the shuttle got us back to the Normandy, the Collector ship fully powered back up.

"Strap-in, people—gonna make them work for it this time!"

Joker took off, getting us the hell out of here.

---

Crisis averted, I finally breathed. Safely in the cargo bay, staying seated in the shuttle, I managed to catch my breath. Shepard and EDI both paced around right outside. I knew Shepard was livid. If it was possible for a synthetic to be livid, too, then EDI definitely felt it. Deep down, though, I couldn't believe what had just happened. At the same time, I privately praised Shepard's foresight, her planning skills and execution. Had she brought her other teammates along—the non-infiltrators, or the ones she couldn't cloak with—then we wouldn't have made it in time. We would've all been dead.

And if Shepard didn't like Tali and Liara anymore…

Did that mean she couldn't cloak with them? What would've happened if she'd brought them instead?

The question remained for Lawson as well.

If Shepard was over her, what did that mean for the future?

Was I horribly selfish for wanting Shepard to have me instead?

I had a feeling I wasn't meant to worry over this. But I still felt the need to wonder. For obvious reasons.

"EDI, shut off that broadcast for the Illusive Man. I'm going to talk to him now. We need answers."

"Yes, Shepard. I have ended the broadcast."

"Better yet," added Shepard. "Get rid of that functionality in your system. It needs to go."

"Very well. Terminating it now."

Once my breathing returned to normal, Shepard looked to me.

She offered her hand.

I accepted her gesture, letting Shepard help me out of the shuttle. She guided me with her to the elevator. EDI joined us, heading up to the command deck. But as she returned to the helm with Joker, Shepard had me follow her to the comm room. The rest of the team continued hanging around in the CIC. Most of them regarded me in congratulations, quietly praising my strengths. My usual haters were nowhere to be found, though. I supposed they'd fucked off to the crew deck by now. Typical.

In the comm room, Shepard had me join her for this QEC call—with the Illusive Man.

I had never seen him with my own eyes.

But now seemed like the perfect time to meet him properly.

I didn't have much freedom to take in this sudden change of our surroundings. The drama of this man's office, the supergiant behind him, the views…I somehow wasn't surprised. The Illusive Man sat there in his chair, wearing his nice suit, and smoking a cigarette. He stared me down with those odd, eerie blue eyes of his.

What was with the bandages over his hand? Did he hurt himself or something?

"Aria," he greeted. "I wasn't expecting you. It's good we're able to finally meet."

"Hardly," I sneered. "I know what you tried to do on Omega. And I'm not pleased. Let's leave it at that."

The Illusive Man crushed the end of his cigarette against his ashtray, premature. Immature. No wonder.

He went on, "Looks like EDI extracted some interesting data before the Collector ship came back online."

"Cut the act," said Shepard. "You set us up. And you'd better have a damn good reason for it."

"We needed information on the Omega 4 Relay. That required direct access to Collector data. It was too good an opportunity to pass up."

"That may be true. But I don't like surprises. Especially when my team's asses are on the line."

"I put you at risk, yes," he conceded. "Without that information, we don't reach the Collector homeworld. The tools I have at our disposal are useless. And you and every other human may as well be dead." The Illusive Man looked at ease, yet he kept boring his eyes into mine. Trying to unsettle me. Trying to unnerve me. "It was a trap…but I was confident in your abilities. Yours, Shepard, and Aria's. And don't forget EDI. The Collectors couldn't have anticipated her. You made the right choice when you unshackled her. The Normandy will be safe from the Collectors' interference."

Shepard seemed to speak on more than just this moment: "You could have told me the plan. You say I'm important, but you sure try your hardest to get me killed."

"I needed the Collectors to believe they had the upper-hand. Telling you could have tipped them off in any number of ways. Besides, I wouldn't have sent you in if I didn't think you could succeed."

"You have one job—information. If I can't trust your intel, you're useless to me."

The Illusive Man claimed, "It's never that simple. You of all people should know that. Things are about to get a lot tougher. EDI confirmed our suspicions. The Reapers and Collector ships use an advanced Identify Friend/Foe system that the relays recognize. You can use these IFFs to cross through the Omega 4 Relay safely. Without the IFF, there's no telling what will happen. You need one of these to proceed."

"Right," droned Shepard. "And how do we get our hands on one of these IFFs?"

"It's already taken care of. I'm currently in possession of an IFF. But I'm not handing it over that easily."

"If you had one this whole time, why didn't you say something? You really just sat on this thing?"

"Shepard, you know me better than that," said the Illusive Man. "This IFF came from a derelict Reaper. An Alliance science team had determined that the 'Great Rift' on the planet Klendagon was actually an impact crater from a mass accelerator weapon. A very old mass accelerator, linked to a weapon and a target. Luckily, I didn't need to send a team in to investigate any further. The IFF unexpectedly came into my possession."

"When? How?"

The Illusive Man settled on drinking from his short glass of alcohol, ice cubes clinking in annoyance.

Shepard demanded to know, "Then what can you tell us? Or do you plan on holding this IFF hostage?"

"You aren't ready to hit the Omega 4 Relay yet. Some of your crew are unfocused. They have unfinished business you need to assist them with. As soon as you're prepared to set off, I'll tell you how to acquire the IFF from me. Unless you've decided you don't care, and you'd rather leave now. Considering what you discovered on the Collector ship, I would understand your choice, your point of view."

Shepard had only helped maybe a handful of her team with their personal business so far.

They couldn't possibly leave this soon.

She knew it, too.

"Just as I thought. Leaving now would be reckless. That isn't like you."

"Giving yourself away isn't like you, either."

The Illusive Man went quiet.

I stared at Shepard, wondering what the hell this was about.

"I'll let you think on that," she asserted. "Because you're not going to manipulate me. Any decision I make with you—or Miranda—will be of sound mind. I see you for what you are. I'm not falling for it. So if I go along with your plans from this day forward, it's not to benefit you. I know where you're headed. And I know exactly how your story ends. Working with you is only a means to that end. Nothing more."

The Illusive Man still stayed silent.

He just seemed so…quietly defeated.

Shepard took me with her out of the call. Away from the QEC and back to the comm room.

In this calm quiet, I wanted to ask questions. I wanted to know what she knew. I wanted more than that.

But these walls had eyes. We couldn't speak freely here.

Shepard decided for me, "You should get back home, Aria. I know you dropped everything to come help us. I appreciate that. I really do. We wouldn't have gotten out of there without you."

"That's what I'm here for," I reminded her. As if she needed reminding.

There was just so much more I wanted to tell her. Yet I couldn't say those things right now.

So I asked instead, "What will you be up to in the meantime?"

"I promised Kasumi I'd help her out soon. I'll be busy with that in a couple of days. The next scheduled event is Mordin's game I told you about. We'll be up against a 'real' Reaper. Even with all this uncertainty, I still want us to run the simulation on the Citadel. I want to see how the whole team works together in that situation. Should be ready in a couple of weeks or so. We'll meet up then."

"I'll be there. Just let me know when. Like always."

"I will."

I didn't want this conversation to end.

I didn't want to leave her on this ship without me.

Not after what happened today. All of my worst fears about Cerberus had come true.

But Shepard had held her own. Exactly like I knew she would. So I found my trust in her. The two of us agreed to part ways for now. We didn't have the goodbye I wanted. I couldn't hold her, kiss her, or even give her these words I held inside, close to combusting in my heart at this point. These dangers with Cerberus sadly intersected with Shepard's need for time and space. I wanted to believe she wouldn't keep me waiting for too long. I wanted to believe that maybe we would see each other much sooner. She'd made me believe again. She'd given me back my hopes and dreams for myself, beyond Omega and beyond everything else I'd already known. If we survived this day, then we could survive anything.