On their way back to the Citadel, Shepard managed to get a channel open to Anderson again; never an easy feat. She always worried anytime she tried that she'd get through to the resistance and find that Anderson had been killed. He was a good commander, too good to risk himself needlessly—but the risk remained, nonetheless. She imagined there was no one on Earth the Reapers would rather have killed, and all it would take was one indoctrinated person in the wrong place at the right time.

It was a relief to see his face, blue and wavery though the image was. "You okay?"

He nodded, working the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. He looked tired. "Been putting my old academy training to good use. Did you know you have quite a fan club back here?"

"I do?" She supposed she shouldn't be surprised, but she'd spent so little time on Earth, it was always strange to her to think that people there knew who she was.

"Oh, yeah. Any news we hear about the Normandy gives hope to the guys in the trenches. To their leaders, too," he added.

"I know what it's like to fight in the dark. I'm glad we're making a difference."

"It's more than that. So many of these people—god, Shepard, they're so green. They've never held a gun in their life. When they heard you managed to get the turians and krogan to cooperate … That was a shot in the arm, Shepard. Of the one thing that's in short supply around here: faith that any of us will live to see another day."

"How bad is it?"

"It could be worse—but not much."

"Can you still coordinate any kind of counterattack?"

Anderson shrugged. "We're hitting the Reapers every chance we get. Mostly guerrilla-style hit-and-runs. But it's not enough."

"Well, if we can finish the Crucible, we should be able to come help you before too long." She spoke with significantly more confidence than she felt.

"We're counting on it." The faint smile on his face said he understood what she was, and wasn't, saying. "And you. Oh, and Shepard—I meant what I said before about Kai Leng. Take it from me, he's a vicious bastard. Don't underestimate him. Don't let your anger, and your grief, make you lose your edge when you go up against him."

"I won't," she promised, although she wasn't sure how she would manage that.

"I'll let you get back to it. We need whatever good news you can send our way. Anderson out."

And he was gone again, leaving her to worry about him until the next time she could get through.

She made her way up to the cockpit. It had been a while since she'd shot the breeze with Joker—a while since she'd felt like shooting the breeze at all.

"Hey, Commander. How you holding up?"

Shepard shrugged. "About how you'd expect. You?"

"Still can't quite believe what happened on the Citadel. Cerberus going into politics! Sure glad we shut those assholes down."

She smiled. "Didn't you used to work for those assholes? I seem to recall something about 'leather seats'."

"Yeah, but that was back when Cerberus were vigilantes helping the helpless. Now they're a little too mainstream for my taste. Oh, and a little too evil." He swiveled luxuriously in his chair. "And as you can see, I still have the leather seat."

"So you're saying things have worked out pretty well for you."

"You can say that. Nice to have Kaidan back, by the way. I'm glad he remembered the first rule of serving on the Normandy."

She wasn't sure she wanted to know, but she asked anyway. "What's that?"

Joker grinned. "Don't shoot the Commander."

"Go easy on Kaidan, okay? He's been through a lot."

"Haven't we all." Shepard looked down at him, eyebrows raised, and Joker put his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay, I'll be nice."

"Good." The last thing she wanted was tension and internal strife. She had enough of that all on her own, Shepard thought, looking out across the stars.

Behind her, someone cleared their throat, and she turned to see James Vega standing in the doorway. "Commander. You got a minute?"

"Sure, James. What's on your mind?"

He jerked his head away from the cockpit, to indicate that he wanted a more private chat. It was well-known on the Normandy that once Joker and EDI knew something, so did everyone else.

"Yeah, come on. We'll go up to my quarters."

She led him inside, turning by the couch to look at him. "What's on your mind, James?"

He didn't appear to have heard the question, too busy looking all around him, at the fish, and the display case full of ship models, and the seating area. "Wow. So this is what I can look forward to when I get my own command."

"That what you want, Vega? Your own ship?"

"Yeah, maybe one day. When I'm old and can't fight worth shit anymore." He gave her his trademark little-boy grin, the one that said he shouldn't be so flip with his superior but he didn't mean anything by it.

"You just come up here to make fun of me, then?"

"Sorry, Lola. I, uh … wanted to get your opinion on something."

"Spit it out, James, I'm not getting any younger."

"Yeah, uh, I … What did you do when they asked you to join the N7 program? I mean, was it a no-brainer for you, or did you think about it before accepting?"

That wasn't at all what she had expected, but she respected the seriousness of the question. "Well, it's a big deal to be asked, of course—but it's also a big commitment. Not something I wanted to rush into lightly. In the end, though, it's hard to say no to. You get the best training, the best equipment, the best assignments …"

"And they expect the best in return."

"If they tapped you, then they think you are the best. They're not wrong."

Vega smiled a little to acknowledge the compliment. "I just … somehow with all the shit that's going on, someone managed to track me down and forward an N7 commendation. And I—I don't know. I mean, there might not even be an N7 program if we don't win this war."

"And?"

"And being a soldier's the only thing I've ever been really good at. Not because I try. I mean, hell, I'd have kicked my ass out years ago. Last time I had a command, I lost almost everyone—and they promoted me for it!" He looked away, letting out a breath. She knew how hard it was for him to talk about that time. "I guess I'm just not sure if I'm ready to lead again. I don't know if I want that responsibility."

"James, the right choice is usually not the easy one. If you were promoted, then someone thought you made the right choice."

"Did you know that before you joined the N7?"

"Yeah. I did. That's why I was asked—and it's why they asked you. There's not a single N7 that hasn't sacrificed, either themselves or their soldiers, at some point."

"So you think I should accept."

"Assuming we survive this, it's a no-brainer. You're a damn good soldier, Vega. Don't waste that opportunity."

He nodded. "I'll think about it. Seriously."

"Good."

"Thanks, Shepard."

"Anytime." She watched him leave, thinking about sacrifice, about loss, about the cost of being a good commander, and about how to know when you didn't have the stomach for it anymore.