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When they docked at the Citadel, the Normandy began to empty. It had seemed too quiet already after they dropped off the colonists on Horizon—the children they had rescued had recovered far more quickly from their ordeal than the adults had, and their enthusiasm and energy had really helped improve everyone else's outlook. They were much missed when the ship left them on the planet.
Shepard had given some serious thought, watching them run around, to whether this was a time for a child in her own life. She had plenty of money, she had the Normandy … but could humans and drell procreate? Would Thane agree to such a thing if they could, knowing he likely wouldn't be around to raise a child? Shepard hadn't entirely given up on the idea that she might be able to find a way to prolong his life, but she hadn't pushed the topic with him, either. Both of them were too occupied with their crewmates during the day and each other at night to risk bringing up painful topics.
Now that they were on the Citadel, she began to think about the Alliance. Should she attempt to be reinstated? Or, as a more or less active Spectre, did she have an obligation to report to the Council? The Council hadn't done anything to assist her against the Collectors other than restoring her Spectre status, so she didn't feel bound to them … but possibly she should.
Standing by the docking bay, she watched people begin to disembark from the Normandy. Most of the crew was staying on, preferring to remain with her and with the ship, but several were planning to leave. Including Chambers, Shepard was relieved to hear. No more chirpy voice telling her that someone was monitoring her emails. She feigned regret that Chambers was leaving, but she didn't think either of them was convinced.
Zaeed was the first off, his belongings carried in a battered leather bag slung over his shoulder. "Shepard."
"Zaeed."
He nodded and disappeared. There had never been much between them; they looked at the world very differently.
Jacob was next, footlocker dangling by its handle from one hand and duffel hoisted on the other shoulder. He was staying with Cerberus, it appeared. Again, Shepard wasn't going to miss him terribly much. "Shepard. It's been real."
"Yes, it has," she agreed. "Good luck, Jacob."
"Same to you."
Shepard looked past him to the next disembarking figure with a far greater sense of sadness. "Tali, you're sure I can't convince you to stay?"
"I really need to get back to the fleet. Vas Normandy I may be, but I'm still a quarian. I owe them my skills against the geth."
"They don't deserve you."
Tali chuckled. "No, they probably don't. But they get me anyway."
The two women embraced, and then Tali was gone.
Shepard had been surprised at some of those who chose to stay, particularly Miranda, who appeared to have completely broken ties with the Illusive Man, and was thus a bit directionless, and Kasumi, who seemed to have found the Normandy so comfortable she couldn't tear herself away. Shepard was happy to have them both.
On the Citadel, she took the elevator down into C-Sec, and then made her way to the Embassies and Councilor Anderson's office.
"Shepard! The toast of the Citadel," he greeted her.
"Oh, I hope not. I'm hoping to slip in and out like the ghost of the Citadel, instead."
He chuckled. "Good luck to you. And congratulations. That was fine work against the Collectors."
"It was hard work. I was lucky to have a good team. Cerberus was very generous."
The smile disappeared from Anderson's face. "And now?"
"They've been generous again—the Illusive Man and I have parted ways, but I keep the Normandy and all the crew who wish to stay."
"No strings attached?" He looked skeptical.
"None that I've felt so far. We'll have to see if that continues."
"Well, I wish you the best of luck, Shepard."
"No jobs you need done?"
Anderson frowned thoughtfully. "None that I can think of. I'll let you know."
"Good." She left him to his paperwork.
On her way back to the Normandy she ran into Emily Wong.
"I can't believe you were going to run off without giving me an interview—again!" Emily scolded her, only partially in jest.
"If it helps, I wasn't planning to give anyone an interview."
"It doesn't. Look, Commander, like it or not, you're big news. Someone's going to catch you and get the scoop eventually. Might as well be me."
"Well, when you put it that way …" Shepard sighed. She really didn't like being newsworthy, but Emily had always treated her fairly. "You've got ten minutes."
"Always so generous with your time." Emily grinned, punching a few buttons on her omni-tool to get her portable camera set up.
Ten minutes later, the interview wound down.
"Thank you, Commander. I promise, I'll make you look good."
"I appreciate it."
"I don't suppose you've given any further thought to allowing me to shadow you on the Normandy?" Emily asked wistfully.
"I have, and the answer's still no. There's just no room for a reporter on a warship, Emily. You'd get hurt, and I don't want that on my conscience."
"I understand. I suppose. If you change your mind?"
"I won't. But we'll have lunch next time I'm here, all right?"
"I suppose I'll take what I can get—even if you do say that every time, and funny how it never seems to happen." She said it lightly, though, understanding the situation. "Happy hunting, Commander!"
"Same to you." Shepard grinned, watching her friend walk away. In some ways, it was sad to think of, that all her time in the Alliance and as a Spectre had left her with just one person she could truly call a friend—and that one a reporter—but at least she had a friend, which was more than a lot of people could say.
She turned toward the elevators, back to her ship. She could practically feel the stars flying past, and couldn't wait to get back into space.