"Shepard... Shepard can you hear me?" Admiral Hackett's image leaned from side to side, as if he was looking for something. "Shepard, this is Admiral Hackett. Please respond."

Shepard continued hiding under his desk, doing his best not to make a sound or breathe all that much. His arms were wrapped around a scale model of the Normandy, which he had tracked down after a lengthy, casualty-laden campaign across several star systems. It was supposed to be the inaugural ship of his Glass Display Cabinet Fleet, but the port nacelle of the new model was just big enough to not allow the window to close all the way.

He had tried to force it once, but heard the terrifying sound of the model's plastic cracking and quickly aborted. After, he'd simply tried to ignore it and leave the window open ajar ever so slightly. But then he'd come back into his quarters, and that would be all he could see. That window. Slightly ajar.

It just didn't work! His model wouldn't fit, and that was that.

And after all that traveling.

Now, Hackett was calling to see if Shepard had discovered what the "Catalyst" was so they could proceed with their plans to liberate the galaxy from the Reaper threat. Shepard had been given more than enough time to find the device, or whatever it was. Weeks, in fact.

But there he was, under his desk, with the final battle for control of the galaxy about to begin in a few days—with no Catalyst to speak of.

"Please hang up," Shepard pleaded through a whisper. "Please hang up, please hang up. Please, please, pleaaaaaase..."

"Shepard, are you there?" Hackett beckoned again. "I'm leaving a message for you at your private terminal. When you get it, please contact me as soon as you can. We need to talk about the Catalyst." He was about to disconnect, when he suddenly seemed to remember something. "Oh, and if you happen to come across the Citadel drifting around somewhere, let us know. The thing up and buggered off and we have no idea where it is. Thanks."

The call disconnected.

Shepard exhaled.

The window of his display case creaked open ever so slightly.

"Goddammit..." Shepard stood from his desk and angrily shut the case, leaving very noticeable fingerprints on the glass. "Double dammit." He reached for the cleaner in one of his cabinets and accidentally dropped his model, which shattered rather dramatically on impact. Little spring-loaded escape pods popped out of the hull and rolled under his bed, out of reach.

He sighed. Loudly.

"Worst day ever."

A tiny Shepard figurine shot out of the model's wreckage and subsequently burst into flame, burning a hole in the rug. Shepard ignored it and went to his restroom to splash some cold water on his face. Hearing the running water relaxed him a bit, and he let his hands sit there under the tap until the tension in his form washed away.

He took a deep breath and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked old, very old. The stress of the mission had obviously taken its toll. It had also, apparently, fitted him with a dashing hat and a badass facial scar—Ohmygod, it's Admiral Hackett!

"Commander Shepard!" Hackett shouted.

"What the f—! Sir! I'm sorry, sir. You, ah, surprised me."

"I've been trying to reach you."

"I told you never to call me on this wall. This is an unlisted wall."

"My apologies, Commander, but this is an emergency. Where have you been?"

"Uh..." Shepard looked around. "Out."

"Out where?"

"Stepped outside for a smoke break."

"Outside?" Hackett raised an eyebrow. "You're on the Normandy."

"Yeah... Yes, sir. This is probably why I couldn't hear your call."

"Right..." Hackett visibly fought with the concept, but continued on. "Commander, I just want a report of what kind of headway you're making with the Catalyst."

"Significant headway, sir. Is the Crucible completed?"

"Nearly. The vessel is spaceworthy and our engineers are going through the final surveys right now." His brow furrowed. "Though the plans seem to have the male and female bathroom signs mixed up, so there's no real way to know which is which until you get in there. It's very awkward, and our engineers are thoroughly stumped on this one."

Shepard squinted. "Couldn't you just switch the signs?"

"We tried. The signs were, for some reason, tied into the main reactor. Switching them nearly destroyed half the vessel. We've been drawing some serious conclusions per the Prothean extinction from that little incident. They were not very wise in the ways of science."

"I see."

"Anyway, the Catalyst. Where are we on that?"

"The Catalyst. Right." Shepard cleared his throat. "Hypothetically, let's say I don't have the Catalyst and I'm not even remotely close to finding it. How much time do I have to work with?"

"I love hypotheticals! Well, taking into account that you would have to have done completely nothing over the last month or so, which is very unlikely."

"Very!"

"And that you failed to follow up on the multiple leads that we and other organizations very plainly laid out for you, which is also completely unlikely."

"Yeah, completely!" Shepard gnawed on his fist.

"Then taking into account the various flight times between systems, the time we'd need to get prepped, mobilized, armed... you're looking at..." Hackett did the math in his head. "What were you doing about seven hours ago?"

"Why?"

"Because that was the point of no return with regards to you finding the Catalyst."

"Oh..."

"Yep! Seven hours ago." Hackett rubbed his hands together excitedly. "So! You said you were making significant headway. I presume that means you found the Catalyst before the deadline."

"Yeah..."

-Seven Hours and Three Minute Ago-

"You know, I feel like I'm constantly in the wrong for speaking my thoughts. A blue chick can't come in here with that body and expect me to go along with the whole 'They have no gender' thing. On a lesser day, I'd take that as a swipe at my humanity."

"Because they don't have a gender, Randall. They don't have men. Why are we even talking about this?"

"They don't have men, so I have to compromise thousands of years' worth of human evolution and somehow not refer to one as a woman in their presence? I'm gonna stop you right there, buddy, because that ain't happening."

"If and when we have an asari customer, they are literally in the Quick Stop for a grand total of two minutes. If you can't compromise your precious evolutionary process for two minutes, then you're an even bigger asshole than I had accounted for."

"How am I the asshole for referring to an asari as a woman? I should be getting a pat on the back and some brand of sympathy with it. I'm a goddamn hero, Dante."

"You're right. You're a hero, Randall. You insulted a woman out of buying a gallon of milk and a package of cigarettes. Well done."

"You said 'woman!'"

"Shut up."

Garrus leaned over and nudged Shepard on the arm. "Hey."

"What?" Shepard asked. "Can't you just watch a movie without the need to make a running commentary?"

Garrus looked surprised. "You don't even know what I'm gonna say yet."

"Does it matter?" Shepard looked around the cinema. "Other people are trying to watch."

"They know what they signed up for."

"What they signed up for is to watch a movie in peace."

Someone a few rows back tried to shush him.

"Sorry!" Shepard whispered over his shoulder. "I'm the one trying to quiet him up."

"Don't apologize. Makes you look weak."

"To whom, Vakarian?"

Garrus shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "Space."

"Right."

"Hey, I was gonna ask you something."

"If you're gonna ask me something, at least attempt to whisper."

Garrus whispered the first few syllables, then proceeded to talk normally. "Do you think we'd be good at running a mini mart?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I think I've seen Space Clerks a dozen times, and Space Clerks II a dozen more. All they do is talk about the stuff we talk about, and they don't get shot at. I feel like we should look into this."

"You want me to give up my command of one of the most advanced ships in the Alliance fleet and run a mini mart with you?"

Garrus shrugged. "Why not?"

"Just be quiet and watch the movie... again."

"I'm not letting this go. Mark my words."

"Well, I can hear you loud and clear, so I think that's a given."

Garrus sneered and took a drink of his extra large soda. "Just think about it."

"Oh, I will," Shepard said, hoping the turian would run out of steam—as unrealistic as that was.

"Hey."

"What!" Shepard exclaimed, much louder than he'd intended. He was promptly shushed by a few more patrons. "Sorry!"

"Hey..."

"What, Garrus?"

Garrus nodded when he had Shepard's attention. "We can call it The Shep Stop."

"God..."

"Or ShepCo. Something like that. Can't do much with Vakarian."

"Now that we can agree on."

Garrus sneered again and turned back to the movie. "Uncalled for."

"Whatever."

"I'm trying to bring you into this business venture—business adventure, more like—and you're shutting me down."

"Well, you might not have noticed, Vakarian, but the galaxy probably won't be here much longer. And some of us don't have time to set up a mini mart because some of us are actively trying to save creation."

Just then, the alarm on Shepard's omni-tool went off. He quickly shut it off.

Garrus looked over. "What was that about?"

"My alarm."

"Why did you set your alarm?"

"I don't know. The reminder just says... Don't froget."

"Froget?" Garrus snorted. "Don't froget what?"

"That's a... good question." Shepard looked at the omni-tool again, trying very hard to remember why he'd set the reminder. "I think it was important."

"Okay, we're narrowing it down."

"Shut up."

Garrus tapped a talon against his chin. "Was it to remind you to—"

"No, it wasn't to remind me to watch Space Clerks II with you."

Garrus looked down. "Maybe..."

"And it wasn't to buy you more popcorn and/or soda. That's not important enough to justify this alarm."

"It's important to me..."

Shepard rolled his eyes. "Fine." He reluctantly pulled out his credit chit.

Garrus looked from the credit chit, to the movie screen, then back again. "But if I go, I'll miss the movie."

"So? Not my problem."

Garrus glanced down at his bag of popcorn, hurt. "But I need popcorn to watch Space Clerks II. I can't do that if I'm waiting in line without popcorn..."

Shepard cradled his head in his hands and reluctantly made eye contact with the turian. "Fine! I will stand in line for you."

Garrus clapped his hands together and handed over the soda and popcorn bag. "Dextro-amino popcorn, extra butter, and a Mr. Pibb. And spirits save you if you get Pibb Xtra."

"They're the same thing, Garrus."

"They are not! They are not the same thing!"

The crowd shushed him, and one of them shouted, "They are too the same thing!"

Garrus flipped around in his seat. "They are not! Who said that! Who's the Pibb Traitor! Show yourself!"

-Six Hours and Fifty-Nine Minutes Later-

"So! You said you were making significant headway. I presume that means you found the Catalyst before the deadline."

"Yeah... totally..."

"Fantastic, Shepard! I knew Anderson and I could count on you!"

"Hehe..."

"Well, what was the Catalyst?"

"The what?" Shepard asked.

"The Catalyst, Shepard! What was the Catalyst?"

"Uh, it's..." Shepard looked around his restroom for anything he could use to pacify Hackett. He spotted his toothbrush—the really nice one he'd stolen from Specialist Traynor—a toilet brush, a shampoo bottle, and a towel. He could probably get away with showing off the toothbrush, but it wasn't enough. He needed something more substantial. "It's, ah... It's a surprise, sir."

Hackett was taken aback. "A surprise?"

"Yeah. You'll have to wait until we get there to see it."

The admiral looked like he was about to lose his temper, then calmed considerably. "You're damn lucky I love surprises just as much as I do hypotheticals."

"That I am, sir."

"See that you get here with all due swiftness, Shepard. We can't hold off this attack much longer." The admiral nodded. "Hackett out." The image disappeared.

Shepard stood there, staring at the blank mirror. This time, it really was his reflection looking back at him—and he really did look old.

Commander Shepard is Easily Distracted

"My Kingdom for a Catalyst"

"I just need you to keep an open mind, okay?" Shepard said, leading Liara out of the lift and into the cargo bay. Her hands were busy, faithfully covering her eyes.

"I will, Shepard."

"And not the Let's have sex in zero gee kind of open mind. Keep it a little more grounded."

Liara sighed, disappointed. "All right."

"We have two hours before we arrive at the rendezvous, and I need something to hand over to Hackett."

"The Catalyst, preferably."

"Well, there's no more time to look."

"Shepard, I'm sure if we visit a few select places, we might get a general idea of what the Catalyst is. If we actually have it, you won't have to lie."

"I was supposed to have it eight hours ago," Shepard said.

Liara's voice hitched. "Oh..."

"Yeah, so we're moving off the Catalyst and figuring out how to get us off the hook with the Alliance brass." Shepard parked Liara in front of what he'd been working on over the last hour. His surefire way of appeasing Admiral Hackett. "Open your eyes."

Liara pulled her hands away and looked around the cargo bay. "What am I looking for?"

"Right here in front of you."

Liara's glance leveled. "This is just the Mako, Shepard."

"Yeah!" Shepard took a step back to inspect his work. "Do you think he'll buy it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think he'll take this as the Catalyst?"

Liara rubbed a hand over her head and across her crest. "Shepard..."

"Yeah?" he asked, excited to hear her response.

"The Catalyst is a device that's possibly of Prothean origin—perhaps older—which would date back at least fifty thousand years and would have to be enormous in scale to integrate with the Crucible as it's being built."

Shepard wasn't following. "Yeah...?"

"This, however, is a Mako—a downsized and outdated model—which you seem to have taken the time to decorate with flames down its sides."

"Took me an hour."

"It shows."

"Thanks." Shepard took what he perceived to be a complement in stride. "But you still haven't given me an answer."

Liara seemed to be losing her composure. "Do I think Admiral Hackett of the Alliance Navy will mistake this Mako with crude flames painted down its sides as the final component of a Prothean weapon?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely not."

Shepard's arms drooped to his sides, and he shot Liara a disbelieving look. "Really?"

"Completely certain."

"Damn..."

Liara took up Shepard's hand and pulled him closer to her. "Shepard, are you okay?"

Shepard couldn't help but be surprised whenever someone asked him that. "That's gonna require an... odd answer."

"You tried, Shepard."

"Not hard enough, apparently."

Liara seemed to be preparing a counterargument, but gave up pretty quick. "You did go see a lot of movies with Garrus when you could've been out searching for the Catalyst."

Shepard conceded the point. "Yeah..."

"And you had already watched most of those movies, by the way."

"I like to see if I missed stuff."

"I know." Liara gripped Shepard's hand tighter. "You still tried, Shepard. You said it yourself: look how much you've accomplished. Sovereign, the Lazarus Project, the Omega Relay, the plans for the Crucible. This plan was never going to work if the galaxy didn't meet you halfway."

Shepard thought of the battle that Hackett and Anderson and the rest of the galaxy would be fighting, and the ways he might have helped. "Maybe if I had done things... If I just had more time..."

"Shepard..." Liara looked up, blue eyes wide and bright, and smiled. "Let someone else take it from here."

There was a moment there, when Shepard held onto Liara's hand as if it was the mission that had already slipped through his fingers. He stood there, a momentary invalid until he found the woman's gaze again, and all of his fears were washed away into a—

"Hey!" Vega's voice cut through the silence, and the cargo bay was filled with an awkward series of earsplitting honks that sounded suspiciously like Boston's More Than A Feeling. "The new horns work!" Vega stuck his head out of the Mako's window. "How'd they sound out here?"

Liara clutched her ear that had been aimed at the Mako. "Loud..."

"Fuckin' ay," Vega said, slowly taking notice of the hand holding that had been going on between Shepard and Liara. "Oh... are you two having a moment? Because, Loco, I totally respect that."

"We were, James," Shepard said, sticking a finger inside his ear, wondering if it had been damaged. "We installed new horns on the Mako, too," he said to Liara.

Liara nodded, snapped her fingers next to her ear. "I noticed."

"Think they'll help our case at all?"

"No."

"Okay, then." Shepard clapped his hands together, entirely abandoning the notion of ever finishing his mission. The feeling was strangely liberating. "If we're not joining up with the armada, I know something else we can do." He activated his comm. "Joker, have Garrus meet me in the cockpit and prepare to set a new course."

Joker's voice came back. "Set a new course? We're not meeting up with Admiral Hackett?"

"Not unless you've been holding out on me and have been in possession of the Catalyst all along."

"I... No, I don't have the Catalyst, Commander. I have a pair of crutches and a fembot."

"Great! Then I won't have to eject you into space," Shepard said.

"I thought we already established that there aren't any ejection seats installed in the Normandy," Joker pointed out, mockingly.

"What do you think we were doing while we were docked at the last station? That's when you slept, wasn't it?"

The comm was silent for a moment. "You bastard! You wouldn't—"

"EDI, confirm it."

EDI cut in. "Ejection seats are functional and charged. Would you like me to activate them?"

"Goddammit! Stop trying to eject me!" Joker shouted.

"That won't be necessary, EDI," Shepard halfheartedly insisted. "Joker, prepare to set a new course."

Joker sighed for a long moment. "Where to, Commander?"

Shepard grinned knowingly at Liara and kissed her on the hand.

She smiled.

"Bring us full circle, Joker," Shepard said.