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They're not even close to long enough, Shepard thought, letting hot water bombard her bruised back. Strands of black hair were swirling in her palms, floating and flexile like flock of tadpoles. It was stupid, it was shallow, it was simply narcisstic, sure. But the truth was: the very first thought that'd sprung to her mind back in Cerberus lab, back when she struggled to her feet, half-naked, with vision blurred from sedatives, gunfire and Lawson's voice cacophonically mixed in her ears—her first thought was: why is my head so light.

Why is my head so light.

She'd been killed and resurrected, she'd suffocated under the cold gaze of the stars, she was cold meat for over two years. And when she woke up, a living, breathing miracle, clearly in a hostile environment, all her military instincts vanished, leaving nothing but diziness and pain. Pain of stiff limbs, pain in her gut. She stumbled like a little girl—again—patting her head and just not understanding. Confusion flooded her mind and the only thought to make it out alive was about her looks.

Pathetic. Weak, even.

She'd hoped that nobody witnessed this. Chances were good—with all that chaos and gunfire, and only three survivors from the whole goddamn station—but later, some time later, already on board the Normandy, Lawson decided to bring it up. The XO circled the subject, starting with the Lazarus Project as a whole, then talked some more about long-dead scientists, then described technology Shepard hadn't even heard of. She just sat there, looking at Lawson's perfect face, and suppressed the urge to punch it.

Shepard'd never asked. Why was her scar missing. Why was her hair so short. Why were her biotics so different, so unpredictable, and why didn't just let her freeze on Alchera with the Dravens and Tanaka and Pressly and all the others. She'd never asked, but Miranda explained anyway, surely watching for any particular reaction to report to her boss.

It wasn't a frontal attack, but an attack nonetheless.

Something outside the bathroom beeped and Shepard jolted back to reality. The heat took some of the stale pain away so she could move her arms freely again. That was the price for the devastating power of biotic charge: some of her bones sometimes forgot to go along for the ride.

"What is it, EDI?"

"We have left Krogan Demilitarized Zone."

"Good."

As far as she knew, Chakwas bullied Joker to get some sleep while they were docked on Tuchanka. That was good, because Joker didn't give a damn when it came to shifts or rest, and simply tried to stay in the cockpit as long as humanly possible. Sometimes even longer.

"There's also a new data packet awaiting you, Shepard."

She froze with one elbow still under her t-shirt. Bad feeling churned in her stomach.

"From?"

"The Illusive Man has sent the intel regarding an asari justicar. She is on Illium now. We may have little time before she moves on to her next destination. Do you wish to plot the course to Tasale System?"

"What's a justicar?" she asked while the bad feeling swelled in her body, pushing the blood right into her temples and cheeks.

"Justicars are exclusively asari sworn to give up their worldly possessions and fight crime."

"So... warrior monks?"

"You could say that, Shepard."

"So... Jedi knights?"

"I strongly advise not to get your hopes up, Commander."

"Tell Joker to get us to Illium, then."

Absentmindedly, Shepard filled Titus' feeder. She probably should get some sleep, maybe eat something. Rest. Be happy about a mission gone somewhat right. At the very least, feel some relief. Here, back in the luxurious haven that was her personal cabin.

Her palms were sweaty even though she just stepped out of the shower. She was pacing around the room, checking messages, checking the news feeds, changing music, digging through her clothes, as if activity—any activity—could untie the knot in her stomach, wash off the bitter taste in her mouth. She'd never felt this way on the SR-1.

The original Normandy'd never been a cage.

Food, then, she decided and headed for Deck 3.

"Hey, Shep. What's up?"

Shepard frowned.

"Why are you sitting on a table?"

Kasumi Goto, the slightly creepy master thief who had a habit of disappearing in the middle of a conversation, didn't seem abashed in the least, sitting atop the main table. The mess hall, eerily silent and empty, was in its usual state of chaos, the direct result of the infinite ebb and flow of hungry people. Some of the chairs were dirty. Some were overturned. Shepard had a feeling that something interesting had taken place during last meal and that she probably should be sorry for having missed it.

"Better view."

"I meant to ask you," Shepard said, brushing bread crumbs from one of the chairs and sitting down. "How the hell do you see anything under that hood? I mean, yeah, it's stylish or whatever, but has, like, zero practicality."

"Aw, you think it's stylish! And you can't see me blushing from under it, so I've just proven your point wrong."

"Alright, keep your secrets. You have coffee?"

"You heard yet about this great coffee substitute? It's called sleep."

While she waited for a good comeback to synthesize in her brain, Shepard turned on the coffee maker and watched the holy black potion condense. The whole deck seemed weirdly quiet. Normally she'd be here right between shifts, when everyone was awake, heading either to their duty or rest.

"So," said Kasumi while Shepard rummaged in the cupboard for some milk, "Jacob. Hot."

"You think?" Shepard unscrewed one bottle, sniffed it and put it back. If it was milk, she didn't want to know what kind of animal it came from. "I don't know."

"You serious? I mean, that shoulders-to-hips ratio. His body is a triangle."

"So are doritos."

There were cookies just laying innocently on the counter. She'd be damned if she knew where the hell they came from, but was ultimately thankful to whomever forgot to hide their shore leave keepsake.

"Sorry, just not interested."

"Is this your breakfast, Shep? Normally I'd say sweets are not the best choice, but I'm kinda worried you're gonna shockwave my face."

"In a closed room? I'm not insane yet, Goto." Shepard fell heavily back onto her chair. She could feel Kasumi's curious gaze on her forehead even though the only visible characteristic on thief's face was her slightly distressing grin. They hadn't spoken much before, just the two of them, and Shepard wondered why was that. She'd always had time for her crew. Even when they seemed dangerous, or boring, or just plain weird, because more often than not beneath their awkward, oh so awkward facade was loveliness and strength. It was her duty to get to know them. To be aware of any ongoing problems, anything that could affect her ship, her mission, her people. It was her duty to improve her team.

Maybe Kasumi didn't need improving. Maybe she was too cheerful to need Shepard's attention.

Well, Jacob's ass was much more entertaining topic than most, anyway.

"So," she said after three cookies, "you gonna go for it?"

"We'll see. Unless my Commander is going to shockwave me for fraternization?"

Shepard laughed and immediately shuddered at the hollowness of her own voice. It sounded awful, artificial and stiff, as if someone tried and failed to make a geth giggle.

"It's not Alliance. Not that everyone in the Alliance can keep their pants on."

There was the shortest moment of hesitation before Kasumi asked: "Speaking from experience?"

Shepard snorted and suddenly made a decision to chat with the thief more often.

"No, not really. Well, maybe. It's kind of sketchy."

"I'm good with morally ambiguous, go on."

"Well, she was my crew, but not Alliance. Not even a soldier, just a... a scientist we took on board to help us."

And she was so shy at first, and so awkward and just so damn sweet and wise and strong at the same time.

"She could fight alright, so I took her on missions, but not a soldier, not really. It doesn't even matter, right, since I went rogue anyway for some time."

And she supported me all the time, not once expressing doubt or regret, my dear, loving Liara, and last time I saw her she made cold-blooded death threats just because of money.

"And I'm gonna meet her soon," Shepard heard her own voice. "She lives on Illium now."

Every time the Normandy's crew had a chance for a decent shore leave, Shepard felt like a kindergarten teacher, except that kindergarten teachers never had to make cruel decisions about who had to stay behind while the rest of the class went to the playground. The complete lack of proper intel didn't help: she had no idea which of her team should stay alert and which were free to go and drown in alcohol.

"They weren't so eager to get down on Tuchanka," Shepard snarled, spinning wildly in the co-pilot's swivel chair. She didn't take her eyes off the datapad in her hands. "At least Lawson can sort out the Cerberus crew."

"Can't you just go to Liara alone for info and call the Normandy, like, real quick? That's half an hour, tops. Oh, and by the way, ETA: ninety minutes." Joker carefully reached for an empty mug and took it outside the spinning zone. Behind the windows and the ever-present blue haze of shields Illium was approaching fast, even though they couldn't yet see it.

"Yeah, maybe I should."

"What's stopping you?"

Shepard stopped her chair abruptly, stomping her feet hard on the floor.

"Time," she said bluntly. "This justicar or whatever is in pursuit and I'm afraid she's gonna disappear before we can get to her. OK, damn it all to hell." She tapped her omnitool a few times. "I'm taking Tali and Garrus, they had their share of drinking and puking rainbows on Tuchanka."

"I admire your tactical choice of companions, Commander."

"You wouldn't know tactics if they bit you in the ass, Joker."

Confirmations came a few seconds later, followed by a distant scream of joy by someone who had several free hours in one of the galaxy's most decadent cities ahead of them.

"Well," Joker commented with a hint of bitterness in his voice, "that sounded optimistic."

Shepard stood up, patted him on the shoulder, ignored the quiet ouch and left for the armory. Two hours later, after all docking protocols were complete, she, Garrus, and Tali stepped out of the Normandy.

Twenty minutes after that, Shepard got shot.