Crossing the Presidium, Shepard could see where the repairs from the geth attack were still on-going. She had expected the Citadel to be less crowded than before but if anything, the opposite was true. Everywhere was a riot of color and noise.
"Well, at least they're displaying some amount of sense," she said as she touched Garrus's shoulder, then pointed. The 'statue' of a mass relay, which was actually a working unit that formed a back door onto the Citadel from Ilos, was secure under an energy field, and patrolled by a couple of C-Sec agents. Mass relays could not be destroyed and this one apparently could not be physically moved, but at least they'd taken some measure to keep it secure. Anyone who tried to pass through it from Ilos would be instantly obliterated by the field.
Guards also stood at the entrance to the lift for the Council tower, one turian holding up his hand as she and Garrus approached.
"This section is off-limits to civilians without a clearance permit," he told her.
"We're here to see Councilor Anderson," she replied. He half glanced at a data pad in his hand, then shook his head. "Councilor Anderson is in meetings all day, he has no personal appointments. You will have to contact his offices and set an appointment."
"I'm pretty sure he'll see me," she said, folding her arms.
"Everyone says that," he answered tiredly. "Unless you have an appointment-"
"Look, I know you're just doing your job, but I guaran-fucking-tee it that if you send up my name Anderson will see me," she told him. "Five seconds of your time. Send up my name. See what happens."
With a snort of frustration he shook his head, tapping into his data pad. "Fine. Have it your way. But I'm not taking the heat for annoying the Councilor during a meeting. Name?"
"Commander Del Shepard," she replied. The turian guard started to type it in, then paused, blinking at her.
"Uh…"
"Yeah," Garrus told him. "That Commander Shepard."
"I'm…sorry? I thought you were…well, I thought Commander Shepard was dead," he answered.
"So, tell him Commander Shepard's undead corpse is here to see him," she joked. "Don't worry, the politicians up there are safe…there's hardly a zombie-snack between the lot of them."
The turian scowled a little, but the twitching of his mandibles gave away his confused fluster. He sent the name up. A few moments later, he half ducked his head, touching his ear bud.
"Yes, sir? Yes, sir, I'm looking right at her sir. I'm not sure…she looks like a civvie to me. Uh…what? Yeah, ok…umm…dark hair, brown eyes…she's wearing boots, a weird sort of hat, a blue button shirt and genetics. What? Oh. Oh yes, that's right. Jeans, not genetics….is she what?"
As he blinked, puzzled, Shepard pulled the cigar from behind her ear and waved it in her fingers, before slipping it back. "Uh…not at the moment but she just waved one at me, a cigar….yes, sir. Right away sir."
Turning he punched a code into a console, summoning the elevator. "Councilor Anderson wants you both to come up immediately," he said. As the lift arrived, the doors parting, she started to step past. The turian cleared his throat, half-holding out his hand.
"Are…you really Commander Shepard?" he asked as she paused and looked at him. She only grinned and winked, before continuing on her way and entering the lift.
As the lift started up the tower, Shepard let out a breath. "Fuck. That is going to get old really fast."
"Price you pay for being a dead hero," Garrus replied. She rolled her eyes at him, regarding the view past the glass back of the lift.
The last time she'd been in here, she'd broken that glass, running up the side of the tower itself after Saren locked down the elevators. Sovereign had been there, then…clinging to the tower spire like some kind of spider clinging to a twig. It seemed surreal to be here now.
"Garrus, when we're done talking with Anderson, before we head back aboard the Normandy, you and I are going to go shopping."
He raised a brow. "Shopping?"
"Yeah. You know, couple girls out on the strip…it'll be fun. Maybe we'll get our nails done," she teased.
"Now I'm certain Cerberus didn't put your brain back in the right way," he replied with a chuckle. Shepard grinned, then shook her head, her levity swiftly replaced by seriousness.
"No, in all honesty, I really need to talk to you off the ship. Until Tali joins up you're the only one I really trust, and I'd be a fucking idiot if I didn't think Cerberus has the SR2 bugged twelve ways to Sunday, dong ma?"
"Of course, Shepard," he replied. "Anything you need."
"You're a good guy, Garrus. I'm glad you're here."
"I'm glad I'm here too. At least, until the next explosion," he teased.
A moment later the lift drew to a halt. The doors parted, instantly baring a familiar face.
Anderson stood there, looking as though the last two years had never happened. His Alliance uniform had been replaced by a tailored suit befitting his new station but beyond that, it was as if he had never stepped off the Normandy.
For a moment, the pair simply stood there, silently measuring the other. Behind his stern expression, Shepard could see the stirrings of emotion, and his voice was low when he finally spoke. "My God, Del…is that really you?"
"Lookin' sharp, Cap," she replied back with a faint grin. "Fuckin' blue blazes all to goddamn hell, you're a sight for sore eyes."
He reached out, and the pair clasped hands a moment before he drew her into a hug. "Clearly," he said as he released her, "we have a lot to talk about. Come, let's speak in my office. Good to see you again too, Garrus."
"Same, Captain," Garrus replied with a polite nod.
As they left the lift, Shepard couldn't help looking around the main chamber. She, Liara, Ash and Garrus all had nearly died here. The grand windows had been restored, sealing out the vacuum of the nebula again, but several walls and part of the stairs were still being repaired.
Seeing her gaze Anderson smirked. "They project another six months before full restoration is complete," he told her. "When you make a mess, Shepard, you definitely make a mess."
"You know me, sir," she grinned. "I don't do anything half-assed."
He ushered them into his office, a grand room twice the size that Udina's office had been, back when this whole disaster had begun. The view was nothing less than spectacular, the décor tasteful and well-appointed.
"Can I get you anything to drink?" Anderson asked, already striding toward a liquor service.
"Couple shots of cheap Jack?" she asked. He smiled, already pouring.
"How about some brandy…it's about all I have. Serrice Ice?"
"Works for me," she smiled, then nodded as he handed her the glass. "Thank you."
"Garrus? Anything?"
"No, thank you."
Anderson poured himself a dose as well, then recapped the bottle. He gestured at them to sit, before taking a seat himself, looking at her intently.
"I still can't believe it's really you," he murmured. "We heard rumors, this past few weeks…nothing but murmurings from Omega and out in the Traverse. I didn't want to believe them, but…here you are. Sitting right in front of me. What happened, Shepard?"
Looking into the depths of the brandy she held in her hands, Shepard told him more or less everything. She told him what she recalled of the Normandy's demise, about waking up on that strange station with no memory of how she'd gotten there, no knowledge of what was happening. She told him about finding out that she had died, that Cerberus had brought her back.
It wasn't until she mentioned Freedom's Progress that she finally halted, lifting that glass and taking a healthy mouthful of brandy.
"Cerberus, Shepard…" Anderson murmured with worried concern. "I don't understand. Even if they did bring you back, they're a terrorist organization. You know that, you know what they've done. It was not under your control what happened before you woke, but afterward…why did you not come back to the Alliance immediately? Contact us somehow?"
"And what would have happened?" Shepard asked him, meeting his eyes. "If I'd called you, or Hackett, or anyone in the brass. If I'd just shown back up in Alliance space, declared myself at the nearest outpost…what would have happened?"
"I won't lie to you, Shepard. There would have been a lot of questions. You'd have been detained, debriefed, examined thoroughly. Hackett and I would have pulled for you. Hell, Fleet Master Barrett would have pulled for you."
She blinked. "Jack Barrett is Fleet Master now? Fuck me…"
"There have been a few changes since you…left," Anderson nodded. "My point is, you'd have had allies. We would have gotten you cleared, back in the fight, reinstated as a Spectre. You-"
"After how long?" she asked. "I wanted to come back, sir. Good men and women died because of Cerberus. My friends nearly died because of them, and that's not counting all the other sick bullshit they've pulled across the galaxy. I wanted to come back home, but Nancy is missing! She was taken from Freedom's Progress by the Collectors, along with all the other colonists. I had to make a choice…spend six months tied up in red-tape, stuck under a fucking microscope and helpless while God knows what happens to her…or I could take the resources handed to me on a platter and go after her immediately. Captain, as far as I'm concerned, Cerberus can go fuck themselves. I don't answer to them. It's a tentative peace between us at the moment and it's only going to last so long as it takes me to stop the abductions and get Nancy back safe. After that they can kiss my trillion-dollar ass."
Anderson nodded and sighed, wiping a hand over his face as he sat back. "I understand, Shepard. I do. But this puts me and the Alliance in a very bad spot. People aren't going to understand that. They're going to see you as a defector, someone who faked their death to go work with terrorists."
"Since when do I give a fuck how people see me?"
"I know, but you have to understand…my hands are tied. I won't be able to help you, Shepard. Even if I had information that might aide what you're doing I can't pass it along to you…not if there's a chance the wrong information will land in Cerberus hands. Not to mention the entire organization is an avowed enemy of the Citadel Council. That doesn't just make what you're doing questionable, that makes it treason. I'm on the Council but if the other three want to pursue this I won't be able to stop them. You'll be a fugitive at best."
"I faced that choice when I stole the Normandy to go to Ilos, remember?" she asked. "My position hasn't changed. I will sacrifice anything to protect the people I'm sworn to protect. My life, my reputation, my career…doesn't matter. I was willing to face a firing squad back then to stop Saren and I'm willing to do the same now to stop the Collectors and the Reapers from wiping out all civilized life in this galaxy."
He searched her face, before he shook his head. "You really haven't changed a bit, have you?" he asked. "All right, Shepard. I have a meeting with the rest of the Council in a few minutes. Why don't you come with me? We'll spring all of this on their various crested heads and see what we can't work out."
"Thank you, Captain. This…means more to me than you could know."
"After all we've been through, Shepard, I think it's all right if you call me David instead of Captain."
Anderson didn't, of course, spring her return blind on the other Councilors. He called them ahead of time, warning them that he'd be bringing her. Their scoffing disbelief only changed the moment Shepard actually walked into the meeting behind him, the trio exchanging surprised and troubled looks.
The turian looked downright pissed.
For a time, things only went downhill, devolving into demands for explanations, hot accusations of rumor regarding her activities in the Traverse and her association with Cerberus, and then angry disbelief when the rumors were verified.
"You do realize that by working for Cerberus, you're committing treason against this Council and Citadel space," Tevos wanted to know. "It's a capital offense, Shepard."
"I'm aware that is how you see it," Shepard replied. "But I am not working for Cerberus. They are working for me. I haven't joined up, haven't so much as even put on their goddamn uniform. You give me a Citadel ship and the resources I need to take this fight to the Collectors and stop these abductions and not only will I drop Cerberus like a hot fucking potato, I'll find a way to lead you to the Illusive Man's goddamn doorstep."
"At least your sense of dramatics and hysterics has not waned," the turian snorted. "We cannot commit a ship and so many resources over this, Shepard. A Citadel operation entering the Traverse would cause more political blowback than you can imagine and we are not willing to go to war over your hunch that the Collectors are the ones abducting these few human colonies-"
"Hunch? I have evidence of my 'hunch' on vid, Councilor-"
"No, Cerberus does," he retorted. "Evidence that could be doctored, manipulated…just as you are being manipulated…again."
Her eyes narrowed. "This old song and dance?" she asked angrily. "I tried to tell you the threat that Saren posed, and you didn't believe me. I tried to warn you about the Conduit, you didn't think it important. I tried to prevent this Citadel from coming under geth attack and you ignored me. I saved your goddamn fucking lives-"
"If I remember correctly, Shepard," the salarian said sarcastically. "You told us yourself you did it to save the other lives aboard the Ascension, not ours."
"The fucking point is I was right, and you ignored me. And now you're doing it again. I was right about Saren and the geth. I was right about the attack. I was right about the Reap-"
"Not that Reaper drivel again," the turian glowered. "A fleet of monster sentient warships lurking in dark space hoping to wipe us all out…puh. We have dismissed that claim."
"Are you serious?" Shepard stared, unable to believe what she was hearing. "You still think Reapers are imaginary? Go to Ilos and talk to Vigil! Examine the remains of Sovereign, I'm sure that-"
"Shepard," Anderson interrupted gently. "The AI on Ilos is non-functional, and it was only you and your crew that ever spoke with Sovereign."
"We found nothing in the remains of that dreadnought that suggested it was anything but geth-make," Tevos informed her. "Their technology is very advanced. There is nothing to support your story of the Reapers, Commander."
"I can't believe I'm fucking listening to this," Shepard gaped.
"Anderson, the Alliance is conducting its own investigation into your missing colonies, is it not?" Tevos asked.
"Yes, of course," he said. "Listen…I think we all need to calm down and think this over rationally. Whatever else you may believe, Shepard is a hero. She saved your lives and saved the Citadel. She has halted several threats to Council space including a tank-bred krogan army that would have been under the command of a rogue Spectre. At the very least, she should be reinstated to her Spectre status, allowed to pursue her investigation of these missing colonies."
"As part of Cerberus," the turian snorted.
"I am not part of Cerberus," Shepard spat angrily.
Tevos exchanged a look with the salarian, then nodded. "I believe Councilor Anderson has a point. Shepard, in light of your service to the Citadel we might be willing to drop the charge of treason and reinstate you to Spectre status."
"I don't believe this," the turian groaned.
"What's the catch?" Shepard asked warily.
"The 'catch' would be that you maintain a low profile, confine your activities to the Traverse until this mission is concluded. Once you are no longer associated with Cerberus in any way, we might consider allowing your full duties to continue in Citadel space. However, were you to remain with Cerberus after your mission we would consider that a full declaration of treason and would remove your status and address the matter to the full extent of the law."
"No fucking danger of that," Shepard huffed, folding her arms.
"I object to this! She should be arrested right now," the turian retorted. Tevos lifted a brow at him, then nodded.
"To a full vote then," she said calmly. "All in favor of the pardon and reinstatement of Commander Shepard to Special Tactics and Reconnaissance under the guidelines earlier mentioned?"
Three hands lifted. The turian's look only darkened.
"Fine. She will be reinstated. But my objection stands."
"Noted," Tevos nodded. "Shepard, your rights and privileges as a Council Spectre have been restored to you. Limit your activities to the Traverse and at the successful conclusion of your mission regarding the colonists, return with a full report and we will consider lifting your restrictions at that time."
Shepard only inclined her head in commiseration, unable to bring herself to demonstrate any form of verbal gratitude. She didn't think she'd ever be able to thank the Council for anything, any more.
"Very well," Tevos concluded. "Anderson, we will entertain a five minute break while you make your farewells to Commander Shepard, and then we will resume our business."
As Shepard and Anderson stepped out, the latter let out a heavy breath. "Sorry, I know that was a disaster."
"So long as they let me find our missing people I couldn't give a fuck what else they say," Shepard replied. "Thank you, Ca-…David. God, that sounds weird, doesn't it? How about I just call you Anderson?"
"Fine by me," he smiled. "You go out there and fight the good fight, Shepard."
"I always do," she replied. "Before I go, I did want to ask one more thing. Ash…Chief Williams. Have you heard anything about her? She doing ok?"
"Chief Williams is doing fine, Shepard," he told her. "She's on assignment right now…classified. I'm sorry, I can't tell you anything more."
Shepard nodded. "I understand. It's just good to hear she's still doing what she loves. Thank you, Anderson. I'll make sure Joker forwards your offices the SR2's idents. Call or message me any time, all right?"
He nodded, then held out his hand again. Shepard ignored it, stepping forward and hugging him tightly. "You take care of yourself, old man," she murmured. "You're the only sanity this place has got."
"That's a scary thought," he chuckled faintly. "Shep... be safe out there. This galaxy needs you around…and so do your friends."
She nodded, then cleared her throat as she released him and stepped back. Giving him a nod and a quick salute, she headed away toward where Garrus stood waiting, having not been allowed into the meeting.
"C'mon, ugly," she grunted at him as he fell into step beside her. "Let's get that drink."
"So they reinstated your Spectre status," Garrus murmured as they walked through the crowded marketplace, looking for a bar. Along the avenue smells of cooking food from all over the galaxy filtered from every direction, filling the air with an unusual co-mingled aroma. Most of the smells were foreign, food that she'd never be able to eat without serious injury or death. Some downright stank. She thought for sure someone was boiling old gym socks in a pot of lye before Garrus informed her it was a krogan botatur shop…botatur being considered almost something like dessert to the reptilian race.
Leave it to the krogan to have ice cream shops that smell like fucking sewers, she thought as they continued on.
"Yeah, it's something," she said aloud, in response to his comment about her status. "And a fuck of a lot better than being shot for treason. They were all angry over the fact that I was using Cerberus's resources but when I mentioned that they could give me resources instead…"
"Let me guess. 'We can't do that. There'll be war. Upheaval. Salarians will start marrying krogan and people won't know their left hands from their right…'"
Shepard chuckled, shaking her head. "Yeah, something like that. Fuckers."
Another smell filled the air, taking dominance over the others. An earthy, dry kind of smell that was rather pungent all the same. Grimacing a little she looked over, expecting to see another food-stand where krogan were cooking sewer slugs or something. Instead she saw a shop that wasn't even remotely related to food.
"Huh. Garrus, one sec. Let's go in here," she directed, before heading that way. He blinked as he followed her.
"Here? What could you want here?"
It was a pet store. The shop was lined with cages, enclosures, and displays, each containing something furry, scaly, feathery or leathery. A pair of half-grown turian children were with an older male, each with their arms wrapped around a fuzzy little creature that looked like a cross between a monkey and a cat.
"What's that, Garrus?" Shepard asked. The creatures were cute, their large eyes becoming.
"Tiffle kittens," he told her. "Popular children's pets on Palaven. Very needy, very whiny. I never did like them much. Honestly, Shep…what are we doing here?"
"Just curious. It's interesting to see what other races consider pets…like this. I mean, really?"
She tapped a tank in which rested a thing that looked like a cross between a coconut crab from Earth and a switchblade knife. At her tap it reared up and snarled angrily.
"Don't!" the proprietor warned, coming around the counter after the turian family had gone. "That's a Tuchankan nsark. Very grumpy little things. If you irritate it too much it'll spit all over the glass. The smell is horrible."
"Good to know," Shepard murmured, easing back a little. The proprietor was a salarian, gangly and skinny even for one of that race.
"You know, we do have a few pets from Earth," he said with a grin. "Let me show you."
"Oh, I'm not really in the market," she protested, even as he pulled down a tank.
It was filled with cockroaches. Garrus shook his head. "Those are what humans consider pets?" he asked, surprised. "They look like…stumpy little Rachni."
"Hissing roaches from your island of Madagascar," the proprietor touted happily.
"No thank you," Shepard told him. "I have a frigate. Bunch of roaches get loose on board and it'd be chaos."
"Ah, yes, so…hmm," he replaced the tank, crossing the room toward another. "We also have a beautiful variety of poison dart frogs-"
"Poison frogs?" Garrus asked with amusement, looking at Shepard. "Ugly bugs? You humans are weird."
"Yeah, well…at least we don't have fucking needy, whiny, monkey...things," she defended.
"If you would like a monkey, we can order you one," the salarian said eagerly, still trying to get the frog tank down. Garrus smirked and Shepard sighed in frustration.
"No, thank you. I don't want a monk-" She broke off as she looked toward the counter, meeting a pair of tiny black eyes. "Well, hello…"
She moved over to the counter, crouching to peer into the cage. The black eyes regarded her calmly, behind a slowly moving nose bristling with hair-fine whiskers. Garrus wandered over to her side, peering at the animal.
"What is that?" he asked.
Reaching out she unhooked the latch on the cage, opening the door and sticking her hand within. As if trained, the creature obediently climbed onto her wrist, then trucked its way up her arm to her shoulder, where it almost politely sat and began to wash its face.
The salarian, unsuccessful with the frogs and noticing what she was doing, came over with a smile. "Yes, that! We ordered a few from Earth directly. The seller assured us that humans would buy them like mad, but it took us six weeks to sell the few we had. More humans seemed repulsed or disgusted by them than attracted. I don't know why, they seem sweet enough to me."
"That's because most people from Earth consider them vermin," she replied, head turned to watch her meticulous little guest, then spoke directly to the animal. "That's all right. Most people consider me vermin too."
"It has a strange tail," Garrus grimaced, then asked again. "What is it?"
"It's a 'rat'," the salarian supplied.
Shepard surprised herself by looking at the man and asking, "How much?"
"Shepard?" Garrus blinked, surprised. She ignored him, watching the salarian.
"For just the animal? Five credits," he said. "If you want the complete set-up it will be fifty credits. I can have it directly delivered to your ship if you would like, no extra charge."
"Yeah, do it," Shepard told him, pulling out her credit chit and dropping it on the counter. "Have the supplies sent to the Normandy in docking bay 452, courtesy of Shepard. This little gal will stay with me."
"I never figured you for a 'pet' kind of person, Shepard," Garrus shook his head. She looked up at him, her new guest still washing, half-watching them with its oil-drop eyes.
"Why not? I have fish, don't I?"
"That Lawson bought," he reminded her. She half shrugged.
"I've never had a pet before," she admitted, turning her attention back to her furry guest. "Rat's just like me. Grew up in vents, crawling through pipes, just trying to survive...unwanted. Besides," she looked at him with a teasing sparkle in her eye. "It'll be nice having someone with some brains onboard to talk to."
"Oh, ha ha," he retorted with a snort. The proprietor finished the transaction and they headed back out of the shop, the rat still perched on Shepard's shoulder, one little pink hand holding on to a loose strand of her hair as it sniffed at all the strange odors that passed by.
They found a bar a few minutes later, and Garrus was sure they were going to get pitched right out again the moment the waitress saw the animal. They didn't, the asari woman barely blinking at the creature as she took their orders. She returned a few moments later with a bowl of algae crisps and a pair of drinks. Taking one of the green crisps Shepard lifted it up to her new friend, who plucked it out of her fingers and began to nibble it daintily.
"She's got better table manners than you too," she winked at Garrus.
"Funny," he smirked, taking a sip of his own drink. "Well, Shep…you wanted to get me alone off-ship, and I'm not fool enough to think it's because of my dashing good looks and infinite charm so…what's on your mind?"
"Cerberus is lying to me," she said casually, drawing out her cigar and lighting it before plucking a few crisps up herself.
"So what else is new?" he asked. When she glared at him he nodded. "You mean about something extremely serious, don't you? What is it?"
"I got a message from Liara," she told him. "Only it's not really from her."
"How do you mean?"
She gestured with the hand holding the cigar, making little swoops and swirls of smoke as she did so. "In the message Liara said, more or less, that she wanted to stay friends but that too much time had passed. She told me she was ok, that she couldn't believe it when the Shadow Broker told her I was still alive and on Omega, that she wasn't ready to see me yet. Then she all but confirmed this goddamn Feron thing."
"Was she upset?" Garrus asked, worried. Liara was his friend, too.
"Crying, a little," she murmured, eyes distant.
"Shepard…I'm sorry," he said gently. She shook her head.
"Don't be. Wasn't her."
Rubbing a hand over his mouth he sighed, then met her eyes. "Shepard, I know this is hard for you…it's a shit deal, from beginning to end, but it has been two years. Wounds heal, and-"
"Garrus, Jesus Fuck…are you even listening?" she asked. "It. Was. Not. Liara. Give me some credit, please?"
"What makes you think it wasn't her?" he asked.
"Just as I said," she replied. "She said, 'when the Shadow Broker told me you were still alive and on Omega…' Fucking bullshit and a half. Remember those packages I got from her? Anonymous delivery? Yeah, well…I found out Aria sent them. Seems she owed Liara a favor, and Liara had asked her if I ever showed up on Omega to call her and let her know. I heard it from Aria's own mouth. She told Liara I was on Omega, not the Shadow Broker. And Aria arranged the packages on her request. Liara knew I was going to be on Omega at some point, because she already knew I was still alive. That guitar she had commissioned would have taken at least six months to build, not to mention however long it took to get it from…wherever it was to Omega. So she had to know I was alive at least that long, which means she knew I was alive before I even woke the fuck up on Lazarus. This message made it seem like she'd just fucking found out about it. And that wasn't even all of it. I mean, fuck's sake, Garrus! I shared how many knowledge melds with that woman? Spent how long in her company? I can tell the goddamn real thing from a fucking fake, I don't care how convincing they make it. That was fucking not my Tianlán."
Now Garrus was concerned, leaning forward a bit. The rat finished its crisp and Shepard almost absently handed it another one. "But why?" he asked. "Why would Cerberus go to such elaborate measures to send such a message? You're talking flawless computer generation or a damned good double…"
"Wasn't a double. My bet is on comp gen," Shepard replied. "I don't know why, but Cerberus wants to keep me away from Liara. I think she's in some kind of trouble, and they're worried I'm going to drop fucking everything to go and help her."
"So what do we do?"
She leaned back a little, taking a thoughtful draw on her stogie, brows knit and jaw tense. "Working on that," she replied. "Right now, I'm just trying to find out where she is. Massani has contacts. He's putting out feelers for me. And this thief we just picked up, Goto…she's hardly on chummy terms with Cerberus and moves in secret circles. She may be able to help me find her, too. For right now, all we can do is wait. I can't let on that I know the truth, Garrus, so we have to be careful on the ship, ok? They want me to forget about her, so as far as they're concerned, I'm going to act like I've done just that. If they suspect I'm still trying to find her, they might do something drastic and try and take her out of the picture altogether. Permanantly."
His troubled expression matched hers, and he nodded solemnly. "I'll see what I can do as well, whenever we're in port. I'll use public extranet portals to make some calls, see if I can't drum up any leads. We'll find her, Shepard."
"Damn right we will," she murmured. "When we do, if she really is done with me then…that's that. But we're on a fucking suicide mission. I already died once without getting a chance to tell her I was sorry, to say good-bye. I'll be fucked if I'll do it again."