A/N 29 April 2012: Thanks to GoogleFloobs for thetaing (Check out his story)! Again, this story is currently under revision, so please excuse any inconsistencies. A full plan of my revisions is avail in Chp. 59, Author's Explanatory Note: an Update.

Disclaimer: Mass Effect is copyright of Bioware. Ci-Ci is mine.

I welcome constructive and/or encouraging reviews/critiques. Please leave feedback!

Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

7 May 2183—the Market Ward, the Citadel, Serpent Nebula

Shepard was drunk and it was entirely Corinthia's fault. Firstly, he'd had to drink to kick himself for trying to kiss her. Then he'd had to drink so that he could have an excuse to be close to her, physically. Then he'd had to drink some more so that he could explain putting his arm around her shoulders and yelling at a krogan that eyed her wrong. Since the particular krogan was a man of honor, they settled the match for Corinthia in a drinking contest. Needless to say, the krogan went under the table and Shepard collected his prize: a nice big, sloppy, whiskey-ridden kiss on Corinthia's cheek. She barely managed to avoid a couple more, each of which moved dangerously closer to her lips, drunken attempts at kisses before she decided that it was high time they went to bed.

Not that she wasn't pleased. Shepard had been practically cuddly all night, inebriated or not, and she could enjoy it all because she knew he was black-out drunk. That spared them the awkward moment the next morning when he woke up and knew that he'd tried something stupid. Well, not stupid, but against his character.

She knew very well that he saw her as a little sister, nothing more. He always had, especially considering how damn protective he could be, as if she wasn't capable of really taking care of herself. It annoyed her, more often than not, especially after the whole Spectre business when Shepard barely stood up for her, and had yet to apologize for it. Not that he would. She still wasn't sure that he'd ever said the words "I'm sorry" to her in the almost nine years they'd known each other — well, seven, considering they didn't really become friends until after Akuze.

When Shepard grabbed her hand and staggered towards the dance floor, Corinthia decided that enough was enough. Shepard couldn't dance to save his life, which meant that his ability to make good decisions was completely gone. Luckily for everyone, Shepard was a happy drunk tonight. He generally was, when it was just him and Corinthia, but she'd seen him pissed-drunk before and it wasn't pretty.

"Alright, tough guy," Corinthia groaned, blinking away her own headache from having one shot too many. Ah, the glories of being a lightweight. "Time to head home."

Shepard pointed to the dance floor. "C'mon, Cassie. It'll be fun!" He offered her a big grin.

"Uh huh. Yeah, no." She put her arm around his waist and escorted him towards the door. His arm looped around her shoulders and he leaned in to kiss her cheek again. She ducked, but his lips still met her temple. "Yeah, definitely time to go home," she muttered.

"You know I love you, right?" he slurred.

"I know, Shep," she answered, distracted as she tried to remember how to get back to her home from Flux. She hadn't really heard him, since he'd started saying very, very strange things, like about them going out or that she tasted good or weird things like that. Something was seriously wrong with the man, not that he'd remember in the morning.

It was nearing dawn. On the Citadel, that meant that the station was rotating so that they could see part of the star, the night life was retreating back into the shadows, and businesses were getting ready to open for business. There wasn't really any part of the Citadel that had a true sense of day or night. Corinthia had spent so much time on ships that she was used to sleeping when she could, since there wasn't daylight to give them a sense of day and night.

She pulled him back to her side as he started towards a glowing sign ("Rapid Transit: Shuttles for your Convenience").

"No, no shinies for you," she ordered sternly.

"You can't tell me what to do, soldier! I outrank you!"

"But, sir, it's a trap."

"Oh, in that case, well done." He planted another kiss on her cheek (what was wrong with him?). He pointed towards another sign. "Let's go that way."

Corinthia wrestled his arm down. "Easy, Shep. You're attracting a lot of attention. Public intoxication is illegal here, too, you know."

He snorted. "Eh, let them try and arrest me. I'm a Spectre!"

Corinthia lowered Shepard onto a bench overlooking the Market Ward and took out her omni-tool. "There's got to be some kind of sobriety shock I can do with this thing. And what the hell happened to my map guidance?"

Shepard leaned forward, pressing his cheek against her thigh (as she was still standing and he missed his target: her breast). "Are we there yet?"

She put her palm against his forehead and forced him to sit up. "No. Here, breathe on this."

He quizzically looked between her omni-tool and face. "It's your hand."

"It's my omni-tool with a breathalyzer upgrade. Now, blow."

He snickered. "That's what she said."

"God, Shepard, you're worse than I am!" She sat next to him and forced him to sit still. "Greatest example of humanity. Yeah, right."

"The grotesque excretion of hummus?" he asked.

She wasn't in the mood to laugh. "The greatest example of humanity, Shepard. I was talking about you. Though you are a good example of a human drunk."

"Thank you. And you are a good example of a girl. Woman, I mean."

"Thanks for noticing."

"That's not what I meant." He leaned in for yet another kiss, but his coordination was almost completely gone and he butted her chin with his forehead.

She smoothed her bangs over her scars. "Okay, now you're just being mean."

"No, I mean it, Cash — Cashee — Cassiopeia," he finally managed.

She sighed. She hated it when people called her by her full first name. The only person who had really ever done it was her mother. Still, it wasn't so bad coming from Shepard, mostly because she used his first name, too, and it was only fair that he do it in return. She still preferred "Cassie", but he only called her that when he was trying to be nice. She wasn't sure he'd ever called her Cassiopeia. Oddly enough, it didn't bother her or sound strange.

"Just in case I didn't think you were drunk before, now I know." She turned back to her omni-tool. "That means that you really have to get some rest. Now, if this damn thing will tell me where I live, I can get you to bed."

Corinthia's Apartment, Market Ward

Shepard woke with a throbbing headache and a blurred idea of what had happened the night before. He was lying in a bed, shirtless with Corinthia nestled against his side. His stomach lurched and plunged: what the hell had he done to get to this point? He tried to concentrate and remember, but nothing came.

He groaned. "Fuck," he breathed. He clamped a hand over his mouth, checking to see if she'd heard. Thankfully, she hadn't, although she did roll closer to him. Shepard relaxed as her shoulder peeked out from beneath the covers, revealing that she still wore a shirt. That was generally a good sign. He quickly checked to see that they were wearing pants — which they were — before he was certain that nothing incredibly stupid had happened. Then again, if they'd kissed, he wanted to be able to remember it. He'd already messed it up once, and not kissing her had probably been the hardest thing he'd ever done.

Unfortunately, finding out what had happened would have to wait. He still had to decide if he was going to stay in bed and relish having her so close to him or get up. His headache took the lead and forced him to close his eyes. Had he drunk the whole bar?

After what seemed like an hour, Corinthia inhaled deeply and stretched. Shepard kept his eyes shut, trying to look like he was still asleep. Then again, had they started off in bed together or had he snuck in?

From the way she suddenly sat up, he was pretty sure that she hadn't known. "What the —? John!" she screeched.

He opened his eyes. "Cassie," he greeted coolly.

"What the hell are you doing in bed with me?" she demanded, dragging the covers up around her.

He shrugged and sat up. "I'm still trying to figure out how I got here at all. Where is here, exactly?"

"My place," she answered softly, her cheeks reddening.

Shepard rubbed his temples. "I didn't do anything stupid, did I?"

She laughed bitterly. "Other than drinking a krogan under the table, trying to get me to dance with you, and this, no, not really." She couldn't bring herself to tell him about his kissing her cheek. She'd liked it, but he normally was too controlled to let that kind of thing happen. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Shepard had already figured that out. He clearly remembered trying to kiss her, backing off, and starting to take shots. After that, everything was fuzzy, but more and more moments were staring to surface. "I remember you started singing something. That's about the last thing that comes to mind."

Corinthia scrambled out of bed, trying to look calm, although her furtive movements suggested nothing short of mortified embarrassment. "Oh, yeah, that. You asked me what my favorite song was and then made me sing it."

Shepard raised his eyebrows. "Is it too late for me to blame that on being drunk?"

"I knew you were drunk. Like super drunk."

"Where's my shirt?"

"You took it off as soon as we got inside," she answered softly. She pointed to the sofa. Her apartment was really just one big room, with a bed against one wall, a sitting area set up in the middle, and a small kitchen in the opposite wall. The tall windows were blacked out and the walls were covered with art, most of which was pretty damn good, although Shepard didn't have an eye for that kind of thing, anyway. Still, the entire place looked neglected, as if no one had been there in years.

Shepard got out of bed and retrieved the garment. "I take it you told me to sleep on the sofa."

"You fell face-first onto it. I didn't have to tell you anything," she answered, although she was trying to remember him crawling into bed with her. Her dreams had certainly implied that he had, since she'd dreamt of them cuddling and generally being together. Very good reverie, that.

"When was the last time you were here?" Shepard asked.

"Not since after Akuze."

"And you kept renting it?"

"I own it." She started going through her drawers. "So that's where that shirt went. I was wondering." She held up a bright green top. "But it's not uniform, now, is it? I thought I left a set of casuals in here somewhere..." She rummaged through her closet.

Shepard pulled on his shirt. "About last night," he started uncertainly.

Corinthia didn't look at him, instead fixating on throwing everything she owned onto the bed. "What about it?"

"I didn't... try anything on you, did I?"

Corinthia barely hesitated before answering, "Why would you? You're like my brother, right? It'd just wouldn't be right."

Shepard ran his hand over his head. "Yeah... Yeah, it wouldn't be, would it?" If that's what she thought, he had one hell of a lot of work to do, but that was assuming that her opinion could be changed at all.

Corinthia mewed in disappointment and tossed all of her clothes back into the closet. "I hate rewearing things," she muttered, going to find her discarded uniform.

"You got a shower?" Shepard asked.

She pointed to the only other door in the place. "Should be towels in there."

Shepard nodded and went to where she indicated. The word "brother" echoed through his mind. He should've expected it, considering how neutral she could act about their relationship, but to actually hear her say it was painful. He hadn't thought it possible that someone could go and hurt his feelings, but she had. She was probably the only person capable of it, too, and it had been in the one regard that was starting to matter to him. If she couldn't imagine them being together, then he wasn't sure what he was going to do. Maybe he could try to fight back his affections again, but his willpower was failing him. He'd been doing it for too long — and not just since April, he now realized — and the fight was taking its toll on him.

He stepped into the shower, hoping that the water could clear his mind and wash away some of the haze from the night before. He wasn't sure he could tell her how he felt, because he himself was still a little confused, and he already knew that showing her was going to be out of the question. Worse, he was her superior officer. Last night, he hadn't given a damn, but they'd probably be seeing Anderson and heading out on to catch Saren. As a Spectre, Shepard could do what he wanted, but it wasn't like he'd given up his Alliance commission, either. Would he risk court martial to be with her? In a heartbeat.

He cut off the water and stared into the mirror for a long moment. Last night, she'd given him hope that she felt the same, or at least that she might or, one day, could. How could she just turn around and take it back? Or was she just as oblivious to her own feelings as she was to everything else? He already knew that getting with her wasn't going to be like anything he'd done before. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't even sure what he wanted other than her, how long it would last, if it could actually work, or anything. Her friendship was too precious to him to compromise, but it wasn't enough for him anymore. Was it enough for her?

"Fuck," he hissed, pounding a fist into the counter. Romance was so much easier when he had only himself to think about. Worse, he was supposed to be thinking about how he was going to get Saren, not about how he was going to convince his best friend to fall in love with him.

Love. Shepard had been avoiding the word, but it was, unfortunately, the only outcome there was if he and Corinthia were to stay together. He wasn't ready for that, and she sure as hell wasn't, but there wasn't going to be any avoiding it if he continued down this path.

At the moment, that single "L" word was the only reason he had left not to be with her. Fear of it was the last barrier he had, so he was going to fortify it for all it was worth. He wanted her, yes, but not if love was the outcome. At least, that's what he was going to keep telling himself until it was true.

"You okay?" Corinthia called, concerned.

"Fine," he answered. "Just pissed the Council didn't make you a Spectre, too."

It was a lousy cover, but he had to think about something else. He also had to apologize to her, or get as close as he could. No, maybe a real apology was in order — and not just saying that she was right, but him saying that he was wrong and using the phrase "I'm sorry". He'd practically said that she wasn't worth the effort to make a Spectre, hadn't stood up for her, tried to kiss her, gotten drunk and made her watch over him, crawled into bed with her... And that was only in the last twenty-four hours, not to mention everything he'd done to hurt her before — Torfan and whatever other sins he'd consciously and unconsciously committed.

"It's fine," she answered stiffly. "We both knew it'd be you, didn't we?"

Shepard quickly dried off and dressed, ignoring the fact that he desperately needed to shave. "That doesn't mean I should've let them brush you aside like that," he answered, stepping out of the bathroom. "You deserve more than that, especially from me. You're my friend. I don't know what the hell that means to you, but I haven't exactly been treating you like you deserve."

She rolled her eyes. While he'd been cleaning up and agonizing, she had dressed into a set of slightly too big casual blues. Her hair still looked matted and mussed, but he somehow doubted that she had a brush.

"I think you're still drunk," she started. "That means you need water and some bread. Uh... Wait, I don't have any food in here. Want to go out or should I go grab some?"

"Would you just concentrate for five seconds?" Shepard demanded, stepping forward to grab her arm. He thought better of it and backed off. "Please, Cassie. I'm trying to apologize."

Her eyes widened. "You're... what?"

He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

After regarding him for a moment, she went over and hugged him, tightly. Shepard wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her there, although he could only hope that she understood that he was trying to apologize for everything he'd done, not just for the night before.

"I know," she whispered softly. "I'm sorry, too."

"For what?"

"I don't know. For making you deal with me?"

Shepard chuckled. "You know, after all this time, I thought you'd figured out that I like dealing with you. You're frustrating sometimes, but I've stopped caring." Shepard almost added that he liked her, but swallowed his words. He was hung-over, she looked exhausted, and he still didn't know what to think about the brother comment.

She shrugged. "Don't do that."

"What?"

"Stop caring. I like that you do care, even if you don't want to admit it most of the time. At least to other people."

Shepard didn't reply. She was right, of course. He cared about her against his will, but he'd decided to give on fighting the fact he cared for her; he'd given up on trying to win her over.

Spontaneously, she got on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. She almost started when she felt his cheek warm beneath her lips. Was... No, it wasn't possible. But then again, was Shepard blushing?

She backed away, regarding him carefully. He seemed a little unsteady, but that was probably from the drinking the night before, and his chest was expanding as he inhaled deeply. Normally, that was what happened before he ripped someone in half with his biotics, but that wasn't anything like what his expression said.

If she had to guess, she would've said he looked content. No, that wasn't a strong enough word, nor was calm or satisfied. Happy, maybe? Then again, since when had the words "Shepard" and "happy" been used in the same sentence (other than "Shepard is unhappy")? It didn't fit, but it was the only thing that she could come up with, and it hadn't been there until after she'd kissed him. Now that she thought about it, he'd had the same look in his eyes when she'd done the same thing on his birthday, except then his guard hadn't been up and she'd been able to see exactly what he'd been thinking:

He'd liked it.

Corinthia felt herself blushing. He was still holding her and he wasn't making much indication of letting go. A great part of her wanted to stay and she wasn't going to fight it. The previous night had rekindled the embers of her affections, even though she was doing her best to not fan the flame.

Unfortunately, she already knew that she'd made it worse. Whatever progress she'd made in removing herself from a romantic fantasy world with a knightly version of Shepard had been stopped in its tracks and sent in reverse, although the idea of a black or dark knight was a hundred times more appealing than the shining armor version. Her only reason left to fight her feelings was out of respect for his not liking her, but lately he'd been acting so differently that she had to wonder.

No, she wasn't going to wonder. She wouldn't let herself read anything into Shepard's actions or hugs or whatever. He was Shepard. They were friends. He'd carefully kept it that way, with no help from her. She got cuddly when she was scared, insecure, or even comfortable enough in her own skin to not act the complete fool. Then again, that was only around him.

She had her shovel in hand and her grave was well beyond six feet deep.

Shepard's lips curled into a sad smile. "If I didn't care, I would've left you on Akuze."

The words sounded cold, but his tone was almost penitent. It was his way of telling her that she did matter — that she had for a long time — and that she was really the only part of his past that he'd kept around. It wasn't going back so far as the Reds, but he didn't carry things that reminded him of the bad times unless he had to. He could've ditched her, if he'd wanted, but he didn't. Instead, he'd saved her life, now a hundred times over.

"I know," she answered. "Sometimes I'm not as oblivious as I seem."

"But only sometimes."

She laughed uncomfortably. "Yeah, only sometimes."

Shepard realized that he was still holding her at almost the same moment she broke the embrace. She was blushing furiously and she smoothed her bangs down over her scars.

"Alright, I think it's time for breakfast," she declared.

"Agreed," he answered quickly, grateful that she was changing the subject. He'd never liked talking about feelings, mostly because he didn't understand them very well, and much more discussion on the topic would have him spilling his heart to her within a few minutes. He couldn't do that to her, even if she did listen and respond with nothing put affection, devotion, and tenderness.

Damn her mixed signals. Then again, did she actually know what came out of her mouth?

The Docks, the Citadel, Serpent Nebula

Anderson waited patiently for Corinthia and Shepard to arrive. Though they hadn't been given official shore leave, he knew that they both needed a moment to breathe, especially after the events of Eden Prime. Shepard had done a good job not showing how shaken he truly was by the beacon's message, but not as well with Corinthia's injury. Anderson liked the both of them too much to let their fraternization get them into trouble, but Shepard couldn't forget to put the Alliance first.

Although nothing had been done about it, the Alliance had been keeping a close eye on the both of them since Shepard had volunteered for the Cerberus mission. At the time, all the Alliance had known was that there might have been a link between the Cerberus agents and the attack on the SSV Geneva, which had caused Shepard to jump on the opportunity. Hackett had gladly let the Commander take the mission, since it needed to be done right, but Anderson hadn't been so eager. Hackett knew that Shepard and Corinthia were close, but only Anderson really understood how close. Shepard would do almost anything for that woman. Since her mother had been the captain of the Geneva, Anderson could only assume that Shepard volunteered because Corinthia asked him to. However, as more intel came in, the mission became a snatch-and-grab in an attempt to recover Cerberus research. Shepard had succeeded, but with a high body count. Granted, unlike Torfan, Shepard had only lost two of his fifteen men, but Cerberus suffered 100% casualties.

If anything, the Cerberus mission had sealed Shepard's fate as a Spectre. The Blitz had given him a name, Akuze a reputation, and Torfan a legend. The last had brought his name up as a Spectre candidate, despite his ruthlessness. Honestly, the Alliance liked that about him. He understood the stakes of war and did what was necessary. Few men were capable of his cold sacrifice without being recklessly bloodthirsty. Anderson had seen Shepard fight a few time and, though the man enjoyed it, the Commander didn't go looking for conflict; it simply gravitated to him.

The whole Saren fiasco was evidence of that. Even if Shepard hadn't been there at the start of it, he would've been sent to finish it. That was what he did, as being a graduate of the N7 SpecOps program and almost the most famous soldier in the galaxy. The Alliance had more than ridding themselves of a rogue turian on their minds, though. If Shepard did his job right, Humanity could be given a position on the Council. Everything hinged on Shepard's performance, really. It wasn't something that Anderson was going to tell the Commander, as Shepard would get pissed at being a pawn, but the Captain already suspected that Corinthia knew.

That girl was too smart for her own good. Not only did she have a nose for trouble, she also had no regard for rules and regulations except when they were appropriate. Shepard, at least, pretended that he followed them. Corinthia just ignored things she thought were silly. However, she was one of the best the Alliance had to offer, maybe even second best after Shepard. If she set her mind to something, she could do it. She'd served with the STG on multiple occasions and they salarians gave her nothing but praise. If she lacked focus, she made up for it in tenacity. She was tougher than most soldiers — all it took was looking at her scars to see that — and she didn't give up easily. Her pairing with Shepard was almost perfect, considering his biotics and her tech skills. They were the perfect team for this mission, but Anderson could only wonder if it was going to push them over the edge.

About a year before Torfan, the Alliance had investigated Corinthia and Shepard's relationship. It had been Corinthia's fault, really, since she'd hugged the Commander in front of an Admiral. The investigation came up without conclusive evidence that the two officers of different ranks were involved in gambling, money lending, or a romantic relationship (which would've given them a court martial), although that was when they found out that Corinthia had probably been rigging her assignments, but Anderson's suspicions of the true nature of their relationship had been roused. Eden Prime had confirmed his fears, though, when he witnessed Shepard's reaction to Corinthia's life being in danger. In the report, Anderson had managed to twist the truth so that it sounded like Shepard was simply trying to save a member of his team, but no one reading that had seen the worry on the Commander's face when he woke and found her unconscious in the med bay with him. Even if Shepard hadn't understood what he was feeling, Anderson did: Shepard was in love with Corinthia.

Anderson himself had been in the same position, having fallen in love with a woman named Kahlee Sanders years before when he'd been a candidate for the Spectres. Anderson hadn't been brave enough to flaunt regs to be with her, so they'd drifted apart, but he hadn't forgotten, nor was he about to. In a way, Anderson saw himself in Shepard, except that the Commander was twenty times more capable than Anderson ever was. Unfortunately, Anderson wasn't in a position of enough influence to keep Shepard and Corinthia out of trouble if they ever decided to act on their feelings — that is, if Corinthia ever even realized her feelings. She hardly even knew what she was saying, let alone what she was doing, that the Alliance had long since prescribed her medication for ADHD (which Anderson knew she didn't touch) and used her "mental disorder" as an excuse.

Pressley came out of the Normandy. "Sir, everything's in order for Commander Shepard," he said, saluting smartly.

"Good," Anderson murmured.

"May I ask who the XO is going to be, sir?"

Honestly, Anderson wasn't sure. The Alliance had assigned Corinthia, but in all likelihood she would be going out on missions with Shepard, which rather defeated the purpose of her assignment as executive officer. Ultimately, it would be Shepard's decision, but Anderson wasn't sure it was a good idea to leave Corinthia with the ship. Joker wouldn't let her do anything too stupid, but then again, he and she had very similar personalities and loved a good joke almost too much to resist. Next to Corinthia, Pressley had the most experience and had been part of the Normandy's building. Not only that, but he'd been next in charge after Shepard on the Normandy's first tour.

"That's up to Shepard," Anderson answered. "But if I had to guess, he'd choose Ci-Ci."

"She's a good kid, but a little inexperienced. Has she ever been XO of a ship, Captain?"

"No, but she's been offered the job before on Admiral Hackett's ship. I wouldn't worry too much. Shepard knows what he's doing."

"That's what we all hope, sir."

As if on cue, Shepard and Corinthia stepped out of the elevators. Shepard was toting two weapons cases and Corinthia was juggling a much larger sniper rifle case. Shepard set his things down to salute.

"Captain," he greeted.

Corinthia fumbled around and managed a half salute before she had to scramble to keep the sniper rifle box in her arms. Whatever she'd bought was almost as tall as she was.

"Captain," she echoed.

"At ease, both of you," Anderson began. "The Alliance is giving you the Normandy, Shepard."

The Commander's eyes flashed with anticipation and his lips curled into a subtle smirk. Getting the Normandy was a good sign.

Anderson wasn't finished. "The crew is staying aboard as well." His gaze flicked to Corinthia. "The Alliance hasn't chosen an XO for you, although they assume that you will pick the Lieutenant Commander here."

"Yeah, uh, Shep, I wouldn't suggest that," Corinthia put in. "With all due respect and all that fun stuff."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "You sure, Ci-Ci?"

"Positive."

"Pressley, you up for the job?"

"Sir," Pressley answered, saluting.

"Then you're up." Shepard hesitated. "What about the turian, krogan, and quarian?"

Anderson crossed his arms and stroked his chin. "The Alliance isn't thrilled with the fact that you were working with them, but I think it's a good thing. You're a Spectre now and humanity needs to show its cooperation."

"I'll need more than just me, Alenko, and Ci-Ci to get Saren," Shepard continued.

"What about Williams?"

"Barely worked with her, sir. Not sure if she's up to it."

"I've seen her record, Commander. Williams is more than capable. She's already been reassigned to the Normandy."

"Fine, but the others are better."

"Listen, Shepard, I'm behind you one hundred percent. If you want other crew members, you can find them. Actually, we have someone we want you to talk to. Who knows, she might end up being worthy to be a part of your team."

Shepard barely had to look at Corinthia before she'd put down her sniper rifle case, had her omni-tool out, and was getting in touch with Garrus, Wrex, and Tali. Sometimes he loved that she could read his mind, but others it was almost intolerable just how much she missed.

"What's this mission, sir?"

"I've left them for you in your cabin," Anderson continued. "But in brief, her name is Liara T'Soni. She's an expert on the Protheans and she can help you decipher the beacon. There are rumors of the geth on Feros and Noveria as well, so those are probably good places to start your investigation."

Shepard grimaced. Having the phrase "investigation" attached to his mission was not what he'd imagined. He wasn't a detective; he was a soldier. He liked knowing exactly what he was getting into, but at the same time his stomach was turning with anticipation. It had been so long since he'd run head-first into the unknown that he couldn't help but want to.

However, Shepard needed a better reason to hunt Saren down than the fact the turian had shot Corinthia. Currently, that was the driving force, but the more he thought about Eden Prime, the more it reminded him of the Blitz. He'd felt hatred for the batarians after that, for how they'd destroyed something as idyllic as Elysium. He'd hated them for hurting Corinthia — although that realization had come after he'd become closer to her — and he hated them for killing innocents and soldiers. He'd hated the mercenaries because they were like the Reds.

His fist was tightly clenched. His worry for Corinthia and his annoyance with the Council had served to mask his feeling about Saren, but Shepard could feel himself starting to want to tear the turian limb from limb, pull his mandibles off and watch him scream as Shepard removed the plates from Saren's body. Shepard had never tortured anyone, but the thought of doing it to Saren was appealing. Whatever that bastard was up to, it wasn't good and Shepard was going to stop him.

Corinthia snickered, snapping Shepard back into reality. What the hell had he been thinking? For all his ruthlessness, Shepard had never been cruel when dispatching death. Messy, certainly, but he didn't prolong death, no matter what they'd done. Besides, if he did, Corinthia would never forgive him, just like he'd never be able to forgive himself. Some people in the Reds had been into torture, especially of salarians and asari. Shepard hadn't taken part, but he hadn't stopped them either.

He dismissed the memories before they surfaced. Anderson was still waiting for an answer.

"Thank you, sir," Shepard replied.

"I see you've already made use of your Spectre status to get some new equipment," Anderson added, eyeing the cases at Shepard's feet.

Shepard jerked a thumb to Corinthia in reply.

Anderson nodded sagely. "Making sure you don't have a repeat of Eden Prime?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, good luck, Shepard, unless there's anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Then the Normandy is yours. Dismissed, Commander. You too, Pressley."

Shepard saluted, picked up the cases, and headed aboard with Pressley.

"Ci-Ci," Anderson said.

She looked up, slightly confused. "Captain?"

"Would you put that down so I can talk to you?"

"Oh, yeah, right." She set down the case, catching it as it tottered, and stepped aside with Anderson.

"The Alliance is worried that you're going to be a problem," Anderson began.

"What? How? I mean, sir, Shepard and I have served together so much that —"

"That's exactly why they think it's going to be a problem. That you're too close." Anderson gave her a pointed look.

Corinthia blinked. "They can't seriously think..."

"They know you've been hacking into the systems and changing your assignments, but they can't prove it yet. Hackett and I are trying to talk them out of pressing charges, but you're walking a thin line. I have to know: is there anything going on between you and Shepard?"

Corinthia blushed. "No, sir."

"You can tell me, Ci-Ci."

"Captain, Shepard and I are friends. Best friends. We know each other better than anyone else in the galaxy. Of course we're close, but we both know better than to act on any feelings we might have for each other. There's too much at stake."

"Be careful, Ci-Ci. The Brass already suspects, and with how Shepard went charging after Cerberus eighteen months ago, they're concerned that you're becoming a problem."

Corinthia narrowed her eyes. "Cerberus? What are you talking about?"

"Shepard never told you?"

"Well, no. I mean, around that time I'd been sorta hung-up about Mom's death because it'd been sixteen years since... Yeah, well, I ended up working with the STG right after, so we didn't see each other for almost two months, and by then we'd just sort of forgotten to catch up. Why? What happened, sir?"

Anderson had thought Corinthia would have known, but if Shepard hadn't told her, the Alliance's case against them was shaky at best.

"There was a group of Cerberus agents. We thought they were connected to the attack on the Geneva, but it ended up that they were guarding a group of scientists. The things they were doing..." Anderson took a deep breath. "The Alliance is still fighting Cerberus. You may be going after Saren right now, but I know that Admiral Hackett is going to ask for your help."

Corinthia's fists were clenched. She'd never been given the opportunity to get back at Cerberus. If they hadn't decided to take the Geneva, her life would've been perfect. A part of her had jumped at joining the Alliance because her mother had. It was the only way Corinthia had left of feeling close to her mother at all. Maybe vengeance... No, Corinthia couldn't do it. She hated Cerberus for what they'd done, but it wasn't enough to ask Shepard to go out of his way to indulge her.

She relaxed a little. "I'll keep that in mind, sir."

"Don't do anything stupid, Ci-Ci. The Alliance may be watching you, but you're needed here. You've seen what Shepard can become if you don't keep him in check."

"You're talking about Torfan, then."

"And that mission with Cerberus. No one was left alive."

"I get that, sir."

"Humanity has to look good. Shepard doesn't care about the politics, but the Alliance does. He may be the better soldier, but you understand how things work."

Corinthia nodded. "So I'm supposed to make sure he doesn't make humanity look bad, then, is that it?"

"That's one way of putting it."

Corinthia took a deep breath. "Understood, sir. I'll make sure we get Saren without breaking any rules."

"I never said that. You got the job because you break the rules." Anderson smiled knowingly. "We just don't want a real war started because of this. Shepard isn't stupid enough to start one, but he doesn't think before he acts."

"I know how he works. There won't be a war, sir, I promise."

"Good." Anderson hesitated before putting a hand on her shoulder. "Shepard cares about you, more than he's willing to admit. Keep yourself out of trouble and hopefully we won't have anything to worry about."

"I don't like getting hit in the face, sir, with bullets or explosions," Corinthia replied. "I think I can manage to keep myself out away from that kind of thing. As for trouble... You know it follows me everywhere. Shep's about the only thing that can keep it in check, you know? Well, I mean, he does kinda keep saving my ass."

Anderson smiled against his will. She was right, of course: Shepard was capable of getting into and out of any kind of trouble that presented itself, be it to him or anyone else he knew. He may not have cared particularly about the rest of his team, but her life was never in danger when it was in his hands.

"The Alliance put their two best agents on this," Anderson continued. "Don't fail us, Ci-Ci."

"I won't, sir," she answered.

"Good. Dismissed."

Corinthia headed back onto the Normandy. A few moments later, it started pulling out to head into space. Anderson's stomach clenched. For whatever reason, he had a bad feeling that, no matter what Shepard and Corinthia did, there was still a war coming.

"One last thing," Anderson called.

"Sir?" she answered, hesitating at the door to the Normandy.

"Take care of that son of a bitch."

Corinthia grinned. "Always, sir."