Garrus was on his way to the showers when he saw her: sitting alone in the observation lounge, back to the hall, working on a datapad. Or at least he'd told himself he was on his way to the showers. A pretense, if he was being honest with himself. He'd hoped Shepard would be there, as she often was, though not usually this late. They'd fallen into a nightly routine: he'd find her working in the lounge, he'd say hello and take a seat at the other end of the room to read or surf the extranet. He liked being in proximity to her, just being near a friend (or an almost-friend, at least) on a ship full of aliens, most of whom had a few feelings about a Turian being aboard. They'd just sit, silently. Then after an hour or two she'd start rubbing her eyes or yawn, and soon after she'd say goodnight and head to her cabin. Garrus appreciated her quiet company. But something had been needling him that he needed to sort out, needed to understand. Tonight he wanted to talk.

When he entered the lounge, Shepard turned her head to see who it was. "Hey, Garrus."

"Shepard," he responded, walking to the other side of the couch. "You're not much for sleep are you?"

"Still coming down from the last mission... How about you? I'll admit I don't know a lot about Turian physiology, but Turians do sleep, right?

"Yeah, we sleep. Just not as much as humans." He took a seat on the couch. "Well… most humans, anyway."

She smiled slightly. "We do seem to be on the same schedule."

"Do you mind some company?" he asked.

"Sure. I'm just finishing submitting a report, if you don't mind waiting a few minutes."

Garrus didn't mind. He watched the stars while Shepard worked. Occasionally he stole a glance her way when she moved in his peripheral vision. Every couple of minutes she rolled her right shoulder or her neck and winced. She was feeling the strain from a long and grueling day. He wondered idly how humans worked out the tension and kinks in their muscles. A hammer to the carapace was hardly an option. It would have to be deep, slow pressure by hand, firm but gentle to not damage that soft, smooth skin of hers…. Of theirs. Soft smooth skin of any human. Oh look, a shooting star.

Shepard put aside the datapad and smiled. "That took longer than expected."

"It always does," he said. "Add that to the list of things I don't miss about C-sec: all the reports."

She leaned back, angled toward him, and crossed her legs. "I don't know. I usually find it's a nice way to decompress after a mission. Put all my thoughts in order. Get a bit of closure."

"That's a positive way of looking at it. I always felt like reports were meant to give the higher ups an opportunity to second guess my every decision."

Shepard nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, I get that. I've had a couple uncomfortable debriefs when missions have gone south. But I've been lucky that my commanding officers have generally trusted my judgment."

"Well-earned trust, I'm sure," he said. "How do you think they'll respond to the last mission?"

Shepard's brow furrowed. "You mean will they be upset that I didn't take Balak into custody?"

He nodded.

She cringed. "Not an ideal outcome, I admit." She searched his face, and Garrus wondered if she could decode his feelings from the angle of his mandibles. "I suppose you're probably frustrated that I let him go," she said at last.

She was right. "It's… not the choice I expected you to make."

"Why is that?"

"Your history with Batarians," he said, frustration winning out over his intention to be delicate. "You know better than anyone how dangerous Balak is. He's responsible for a lot of dead humans…. He'll probably be responsible for a lot more."

She crossed her arms and smiled thinly, her nostrils flared. "Who needs higher ups to second guess my actions? My crew will do it for them."

He'd said the wrong thing. Overstepped. Damn. "Sorry, Commander. I didn't mean-"

She held up her hand and cut him off. "It's fine, Garrus. I don't expect my every decision to sit well with you or anyone else." She rubbed the back of her neck, that spot where the tension and strain of the day had settled. "I take it you would have let the hostages die?" she asked him.

Her chosen framing of the question perturbed him, but he bit the bullet. "To take down Balak? Yeah. They were necessary casualties."

"They weren't 'necessary casualties,' evidenced by the fact that they are alive," she said, with more disgust in her tone than he had heard from her before. "I had a choice, kill Balak or save civilians. I chose the civilians."

"But now Balak is out there!" he snapped back.

"And so are those civilians!" Shepard glared daggers at him, flushed as her anger reached a peak. Then she sighed, shook her head, and the fury seemed to abruptly fall away from her. "Look," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I get where you're coming from. Balak is dangerous. I'm sure the Alliance brass will agree with you that letting the civilians die in order to take him out would have been a reasonable cost…. Hell, part of me agrees with you. Sometimes we have to make the hard calls: sacrifice lives to save others down the line."

Garrus relaxed, relieved that she did understand where he was coming from. "Then why let him go?" he asked

"Because I don't know what will happen with Balak," she said, turning her head to look out at the stars. "He might get taken out tomorrow. He might lose status and power in the Hegemony due to his failure today. He might go on to kill millions. There are countless possibilities that I can't possibly account for." She sighed. "Choices like this would all be a hell of a lot easier with a crystal ball."

"A what?"

She smirked and turned to face him. "Sorry. A human expression. I mean, if I could see all possible futures laid out like a road map, it would be simple to just pick the right path. But without that power to see the consequences, the good and bad of every choice, it's all hypothetical." Her eyes, nose, and mouth tensed, in the way he'd begun to think of as her commander face. "Except for the lives of the people we saved by letting Balak go," she said with disarming conviction. "They aren't hypothetical. And it's not just hypothetical families and friends who are welcoming them home right now."

Her words sent a thrill through him. She was so at odds with the rigid philosophies that had shaped his life: duty above all, the brutal calculus of war, the insignificance of the individual. Her way of seeing things was inspiring, if a little unsettling. But she was not thoughtlessly ideological in her ethical convictions. She was right: the consequences of Balak living or dying weren't certain. It was a tough call either way, and neither of them could know yet if it was the right one.

"Yeah," Garrus said, wonder and admiration brightening his voice. "I think I understand where you're coming from. I guess even if Balak does go on to kill again, it still counts for something that we saved those people today."

She smiled. "Damn right it does."

"And it's not like the Batarians would promote a nice guy into Balak's position if you had killed him. Somehow I suspect the Hegemony has monsters to spare."

"I suspect you're right," she said darkly.

"Still, I wish we could have taken him out and saved the civilians. The injustice of him still breathing when so many of his victims aren't…." He sighed, feeling the familiar sting of being forced to let someone truly dangerous out of his scope. "It's a lot to sit with.

Shepard nodded. "It is." Her expression took on a distant aspect, thoughtful. "But justice for the dead isn't as straightforward as just executing their killers. Do you think Kate's brother would rest easier if his sister had died so Balak could be brought to justice?"

"No," he granted, "I don't suppose he would. He recalled his conversation with Shepard on the docks: Shepard adamant that her victory on Elysium didn't win justice for the victims of Mindoir. "So what's the answer then? How do the dead find justice?"

Shepard looked out at the stars again. "I don't know, Garrus. I'm not sure they really can. But I hope the dead are beyond worries of vengeance." Her eyes were glassy, and Garrus worried that he might have struck too close those old wounds that still haunted Shepard.

"You're probably right," he said, giving her a chance to end the conversation there.

"If the dead do watch over us," she continued, her voice soft and low, "I like to think what they'd most want is to see us… the people who survive them… heal... to see the grip of pain and anger and fear loosen and eventually release it's hold on us…... And maybe through the peace the living find, the dead can find some too."

"Do you believe Kate will be able to find peace after all she's been through?" Garrus asked, his real question hidden beneath, personal and intimate.

Shepard's nostrils flared. Her jaw clenched and unclenched, holding back the full weight of feeling that threatened her composure. "I do," she said. "It won't come all at once. It may take a lifetime and a lot of work... But I have to believe that we all can find our way to peace, no matter how long and difficult the journey."

"Yeah," Garrus said warmly. "I believe she'll get there, Shepard." And he hoped with his entire being that it was true.

Shepard smiled softly and sadly.