"You may my glories and state depose,

But not my griefs, still am I king of those."

William Shakespeare, Richard II

Karin helped Kaidan onto a cot while trying to keep her hands from shaking. It wasn't blood being spilt, or that Dee was doing the spilling, or even the perfunctory nature of the whole thing. Rather, it was that she was having flashbacks to that meeting with Admiral Hackett and Captain Anderson, where they told her in no uncertain terms that if Dee turned out not to be the Commander, it was the doctor's duty to take her out.

Dee's face floated in her inner eye, even as she set up Kaidan with the equipment to monitor his vitals. The woman was a mix of vulnerability and steely determination, but did that make her Commander Shepard? Hell if Karin knew. She knew she didn't want to take out Dee, and she knew that, if half of what the woman said was true, she was their best chance at beating Saren and the Reapers.

And looking at Kaidan and Ashley, and knowing, just knowing that Dee had expected one of them to die, and that they'd both survived, well, that put Karin in an awkward position.

Awkward because she was rapidly coming to realize that this wasn't an order she was going to be able to fulfill. No matter how different Dee was, no matter how cold her actions seemed, Karin had seen the other side of her – the human side – and if it was all an act, it was hugely convincing. Convincing enough for her to abandon an Alliance career for the sake of one woman? The thought was like a punch to the gut, but the answer was inching towards yes.

"We need to get Shepard up here," said Kaidan, fidgeting against her ministrations.

"She's the CO of this ship," said Karin, "and she's made perfectly clear her stance on this issue."

"You could say that she's unfit for duty until she's received some medical care," said Ashley from the doorway. "Which, at this point, I would say is an understatement. You didn't see her down there, Doc. She moved like nothing human. I know I'm new to the whole biotics thing, but I've never seen a human being able to do that." She raised an eyebrow at Kaidan. "LT?"

He leaned back against the pillow, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "No. Never. The L3 implant is much more stable than the L2, but in most cases that means the energy output is less. Shepard's always been proficient, even with her L3, but that… That should've fried her nervous system or melted her amp or both."

Karin kept her mouth shut. She'd been studying the scans of Dee's brain, and had come to the simple conclusion that, somehow, she was no longer outfitted with the standard L3. There'd been some recent advancements in the technology, and Karin had heard from some friends in the Ascension project that they'd developed the L4 – some fancy implant complete with VI interface – but Dee's seemed to be something beyond that.

"She looks mostly unmelted," said Ashley, hopping onto another cot and wincing slightly. "Are we sure these biotic displays couldn't do something to her personality though?"

"It's the stress," said Kaidan.

"Yeah," said Ashley, and they both sounded like it was a story they were reciting for the upteeth time.

"If it makes the two of you feel better," said Karin, well aware that she was treading a dangerous line, "the Commander and I have been having conversations. I'm well aware of her current state of mind, and I assure you, it's well within the normal parameters given her… unusual circumstances." This was only a slight fib. It was clear that Dee was suffering from what looked suspiciously like PTSD, and that the strain of responsibility was wearing on her. After coming out of a war in which she saw countless atrocities, however, this was probably to be expected.

And if she were being perfectly honest, if it were anyone else, Karin would be sending a strongly worded recommendation to Alliance brass to get Dee some downtime. The problem was, they needed Dee, needed her desperately. If she didn't pull them to victory, nobody could. Karin was starting to realize that this was the only thing she knew for certain.

Dee realized it too. That's why she clung to the shards of her resolve and bluffed her way through being whole.

Both soldiers were mollified by her proclamation, their shoulders slumping with what must've been relief.

"It's just that, well, she hasn't been acting like herself," said Ashley, and it was nearly defensive, like she was trying to cover up some unsaid sin.

"What would you do to protect the people you love?" asked Karin quietly. She didn't miss the way Ashley's eyes flickered towards Kaidan, nor the frown that followed.

Kaidan's hands clenched and he shut his eyes.

"Anything," he said.

And though the Lieutenant was one of the most by-the-book soldier she'd ever met, something about that one word made her believe it and made her think that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't the only one who would stand behind this new incarnation of their Commander, come hell or high water.

0-0-0

Kirrahe had seen a great many things during his years – more than most other people he met, and that was quite the claim, considering the average life expectancy of a salarian was doubled or even quadrupled by all other races. Most of it was classified, and to even utter it aloud would be to invite a quick and silent death.

So when he said that Shepard was the biggest anomaly he'd ever encountered, he meant it.

On one hand, she epitomized so much of what anti-human propaganda raged. She could be brash, headstrong, stubborn, and, above all else, merciless. And whereas the same could be said for the turians, they usually worked as a cohesive unit to attain a common goal. Humans… humans seemed to go every which way with a resolve that was all the more concerning for the chaos from which it was born. And Shepard, well, she certainly was going her own way.

He couldn't say it was the wrong way, however. Not after Virmire. Of course, he couldn't necessarily say that it was right either. It seemed to exist perfectly in that balanced area of grey neutrality. This was an area Kirrahe knew well, due to the nature of his own work, but that did nothing to quell the great anxiety that was welling inside of him.

Shepard had known things about that base that she had no business knowing. Where to go, where to shoot, what to push. As suspicion was his trade, Kirrahe had considered the possibility that she was somehow in league with Saren, but beyond the mounting pile of coincidences he couldn't explain, he couldn't figure out what the end game of such a liaison would be.

And then, of course, there was Sovereign.

Even now, after filing his report, Kirrahe had no idea what he believed. Shepard had stood in front of the projection, shoulders tense, hands at her hips, staring down the ship that had no face.

"You are not Saren," a voice had boomed, and the disconcerting thing was that Kirrahe was not sure if the voice was from inside his own head or from without. He knew he would have to revisit the footage he was filming now later to make sure, and that knowledge left his skin feeling too tight.

"Nope," said Shepard, voice hard.

"Rudimentary creatures of flesh and blood, you touch my mind, fumbling in ignorance, incapable of understanding," continued the projection. "There's a realm of existence so far beyond your own you cannot even imagine it. I am beyond your comprehension. I am Sovereign."

Shepard strode forward. "That's a nice speech, buddy, but I'm not buying it. I know exactly what you are, Reaper."

"Reaper: a label created by the Protheans to give voice to their destruction. In the end, what they chose to call us is irrelevant. We simply are."

Beside him, Vakarian opened his mouth, but Shepard beat him to the punch. "Bullshit," she said, crossing her arms. "You can preach the company line all you want, but I know better."

"You…"

"Excuse me," said Shepard, raising her voice, and Kirrahe had never heard anyone's voice filled with such loathing, not even a krogan when faced with a salarian. "I'm talking now, and you're listening. You think you're indestructible, but you're not. I will beat you this time, I promise. All of you. Every scrap of information that's left in this galaxy, I will find it, and I will use it against you."

"You cannot defeat us," said Sovereign. "The cycle cannot be broken. The Protheans were not the first. They did not build the mass relays, or the Citadel, they merely found them, the legacy of my kind. Organic beings are inferior. There is nothing for you to find that we have not placed by design. You exist because we allow it and you will end because we demand it."

"Wanna bet?" said Shepard, drawing her pistol. "Tell Harbinger I say hello when you send your next postcard home, okay?"

There was a lull, and Kirrahe felt something pressing into his mind like a great weight. If the ship had a face, it would've been staring them all down.

"How do you know that name?" it demanded.

"Who's fumbling in ignorance now?" said Shepard with a derisive twist of her lips, and fired two shots into a nearby console. The holoimage went dark, and Shepard turned around, stony faced. "We need to move. Now." She brushed past both of them.

"Shepard," said Vakarian, as Kirrahe powered down his vid recorder. "What the hell was that?"

The Commander looked at her turian crew member as though she couldn't believe what he'd just asked. "Reaper," she said, as though speaking to a small child. She gestured to the door. "Now, if you don't mind, I doubt he's going to take kindly to our little conversation, and since he knows exactly where we are, maybe we can save this little heart to heart for later, okay?"

There was a split second were Vakarian reeled back and Shepard looked marginally contrite, but then they both fell back on their training, faces carefully devoid of emotion. The three of them ploughed through the remaining krogan and geth defenses, though if Kirrahe were being honest, most of that was Shepard. It wasn't that his and Vakarian's contributions were insubstantial, it was simply that Shepard seemed to expect attacks before they occurred. They reached the landing zone just as Lieutenant Alenko was setting the bomb in place.

"Where's Ash?" Shepard demanded, jogging up to him. Kaidan shook his head. Her eyes scanned the courtyard, taking in all the closed doors. They stopped briefly on the AA tower – the same AA tower that Shepard had disabled earlier – and her hands clenched at her side. Tapping her comm, she said, "Ash, where are you?"

And then, well, and then Kirrahe had seen the second unbelievable thing of the day.

Kirrahe clasped his hands in front of him, and leaned back in his chair. He'd taken up residence in the space that counted as the mess hall aboard the Normandy. He hadn't seen Shepard in near two hours, and neither had anyone else, not since she'd gone down and cleaned the blood off the floor. Her crew had watched her do it, huddled in the dark spaces of the cargo bay, their whispers light as feathers. If Shepard had heard, she gave no indication.

Was Shepard a liability? Potentially. So far, however, Kirrahe had seen nothing to prove that she wasn't in control of herself. If anything, she seemed perfectly aware of everything she was doing. Having spent a lot of time studying people – studying military personnel, especially – Kirrahe knew the difference. The problem was that Shepard acted with a conviction that bordered on zealotry and Kirrahe didn't know why.

He heard the whoosh of a door opening, and then Shepard was there, standing in the space in front of her cabin. She inclined her head and then disappeared inside, forcing Kirrahe to follow.

Inside, she was pouring hot water into a mug. "Tea?" she asked.

Kirrahe's eyes swivelled over the datapads on the table. Crude drawings and lists had been tacked to the walls. He recognized one as Sovereign, and next to it, another sheet with a larger version of the same, marked Harbinger. As a chill spread over his body, he said, "Please."

Shepard nodded and poured water into another mug. "Sit." She brought the mug over and placed it before him, before settling across the table, one leg folded over the other as she hugged her mug with both hands. "I expect you have questions."

Where to begin? Kirrahe took a deep breath and nodded towards the pictures of the ships. "I've heard enough from your crew to understand how you came across the knowledge of the Reapers. The beacon on Eden Prime. That much makes sense, but I want to know why you're fighting so hard."

Her eyebrows shot up. "I would think that would be obvious. The Reapers destroyed an entire galactic civilization that was centuries ahead of ours."

"True," said Kirrahe, "but it seems like it's more than simple duty or survival for you. It seems personal." He hesitated. "In your conversation with… with Sovereign, well, appeared that you had more information than you've shared."

Shepard's eyes dropped, and she took a sip of her tea. "A salarian friend of mine once said that there are two kinds of secrets in salarian culture. The first was personal – regrets, guilt, whatever – and those kind were suspicious. A puzzle to be solved, I think he said. The other kind was dangerous."

Swallowing, Kirrahe said, "What kind is yours, Commander?"

When Shepard met his gaze, there was a yawning space beyond her eyes, as if all the joy had been leached out. "It's both."

0-0-0

The silence echoed through the comm room. Nobody said anything at all, and Liara imagined it was because like herself, nobody could think of what to say.

She'd emerged to find Kaidan in the medbay along with plenty of the salarians. Her first thought had been for Shepard, but the lieutenant caught her face and offered a slim smile. If he was smiling, that meant that Shepard must be fine, but that didn't account for the grim set of his brows, nor the strained discourse between himself and Doctor Chakwas. She'd gone down to the cargo bay to see if she could help at all, and she'd seen the pool of purple blood and a body wrapped in a makeshift shroud, one blue hand peeking out the side, palm up as though in supplication.

The half caught whispers had told her all she needed to know. Shepard had killed this woman, this civilian, and claimed she was indoctrinated. But killed her. Just like that.

Violence was something Liara had never quite gotten used to. Though her mother had been proficient from her maiden days as a mercenary, and had indeed fostered her own commando unit, Liara had always known she was made of gentler stuff. She could kill to defend herself, of course. She was more adept with biotics than she ever would be with a pistol, but that was something entirely different than the sort of wanton bloodshed one found in war. One of the things she'd grown to admire about Shepard was that, despite humanity's reputation for being stubborn and pushy and confrontational, Shepard had never used violence as a tool, but instead as a last resort.

And now… Now…

The one thought that came unbidden over and over was, Is this what she did to Benezia?

The doors opened and Shepard entered, walking over to the comm console while gesturing Kirrahe to her open seat. There were cuts on her face and a fine weave of red lines down the back of her neck. Liara had never seen anything comparable on the asari after a strenuous bout of biotics, and was reminded just how rare and dangerous it was to be a human biotic.

"I've taken the liberty of inviting the Captain to join us," she said.

Kirrahe said nothing.

Shepard leaned back and crossed her arms, swallowing. "Now, thanks to the beacon we discovered in Saren's base, we know where he's going. It's Ilos, through the Mu relay."

"Is that where we're headed then? To Ilos?" asked Tali.

"I don't know," said Shepard. "That depends on the Council."

"But if that's where Saren's going," said Williams, "then that's where we should be going too."

"Ilos is far into the Terminus systems and Saren has an army of geth at his disposal," interjected Kirrahe. "It's highly unlikely we'd be able to defeat his force on our own. We'd need Council support."

"Support they won't give," said Shepard flatly.

Alarm bubbled up in Liara. "But surely if you tell them that Saren's there…"

"They knew Saren was likely to be on Virmire," said Shepard, "and they didn't approve reinforcements. Virmire is practically in their backyard when compared with Ilos. They're not going to mobilize a force and risk war with the Terminus systems. Saren's a threat, all right, but since they're hesitant to acknowledge the threat of the Reapers, they don't want to initiate a separate war to quell an invasion they don't believe is imminent."

"What I don't understand is why you didn't just kill the son of a bitch on Virmire," snapped Wrex. "From what everyone's saying, you were smashing skulls together, but, what? You couldn't manage to blow Saren's brains out?"

"It's complicated," said Shepard tightly.

"Seems to me like you've been making it really simple, Shepard," said Garrus, quietly. His eyes were stuck to the floor, but something about the way he was speaking made Liara uneasy. "If someone's indoctrinated, you eliminate the threat. End of story. Why is Saren different?"

"Because Saren isn't some random peon. He's actively collaborating with the Reapers," said Shepard.

"And that, what? Makes him somehow less dangerous?" Garrus' voice was rising in pitch. "Or are we only killing civilians and prisoners now?"

Williams was on her feet in a heartbeat, and despite the fact that the righteous fury was directed to Liara's right, the asari still found herself slumping down in her seat as though it would make her invisible. The worst part was, it wasn't that she disagreed with Garrus' opinion. She trusted Shepard, probably too much considering the brevity of their acquaintance, but the Commander was slowly sliding off that pedestal Liara had erected for her.

"I think you should shut your mouth," said Williams. Something flashed in her eyes, something too ambiguous for Liara to catch even if she'd had the foggiest idea of what it was about. "You didn't see Benezia on Noveria. There was this asari there who seemed perfectly normal until she arrived with geth to shoot us in the back. I, for one, trust Shepard. Maybe some of us need to reflect on where our loyalties lie."

Liara expected Garrus to flare, to stare Williams down, but he couldn't seem to meet her gaze.

"Enough," said Shepard, running a hand down her face. "Williams, back down."

"But Commander…" Whatever Williams was going to say died as she was met with an irritated glance from her CO. She sat down, albeit stiffly.

That same silence permeated the room, and Liara rubbed her hands along her thighs just for something to do. Finally, Shepard sighed. "I know I've been behaving oddly," she said. "You can blame my stint in the hospital for that one. I'm not the same Shepard that went in." Her lips quirked as though she found something bitterly amusing. "But there's something about this whole mission that I don't think you all understand."

"And what's that, Shepard?" said Wrex.

"It doesn't end with Saren," she said, shoulders slumping. Shepard looked at each of them in turn. "That's what you've all been thinking, right? That we stop Saren and we stop the Reapers, right?"

"But Benezia said," interjected Tali, her face turning ever so slightly towards Liara before she could help herself, "she said that the Conduit would bring them one step closer to the Reapers. Without it, the Reapers are stuck out in dark space, right?"

"The Conduit will help," agreed Shepard, "but it's just a tool. A shortcut. The Reapers will still come regardless, and it won't be pretty."

The years of study rifled through Liara's mind, and some giant, invisible fist closed around her heart. All this time, she'd been studying the Protheans, never knowing why they'd gone extinct until this human woman walked into her life. Even without the knowledge of the Reapers, she – and all other Prothean academics – had almost universally agreed that the process of their extinction hadn't happened overnight. "It took decades, maybe centuries for the Protheans to die out," said Liara, giving voice to her train of thought.

"No," said Shepard, "they didn't die out. They fought. They kept fighting until the end, and they lost." Shepard's shoulders hunched. "Can you imagine? Watching whole planets fall to the Reapers? How quickly it would happen if the governments were indoctrinated to do the Reapers bidding? Can you imagine watching thousands of years of history crash and burn?" She turned abruptly.

"Shepard," said Liara, leaning forward, "the beacon, did it show you that…?"

"The Protheans had ways of preserving memories so that they could relive them," said Shepard, and Liara took that as a yes.

"Jesus," said Williams.

"Shepard…" said Garrus, but when Liara turned to look at him, the turian seemed at a loss.

"If I have to kill hundreds, thousands of people to turn the tide of this war, I will do it," said Shepard, her voice hardening. When she turned, her eyes found Liara. "What if that asari down there led to the destruction of Thessia? How could we live with ourselves, knowing she was a risk that we just let walk free?"

Liara couldn't even imagine such a thing. Thessia had never once been invaded in its entire history. They had always been technologically superior to the other races, and had always taken a firm stance on neutrality and diplomacy where possible. That many asari chose to take non-asari bondmates only helped strengthen their people, not only because of the diversification it offered, but because people were less likely to initiate hostilities against the mothers of their daughters.

Liara tried to conjure up the image of Armali burning, but those graceful spires remained as opulent and proud as ever in the snapshot of her imagination.

"Unless it's Saren," said Wrex, eyes trained on Shepard.

"Saren isn't just indoctrinated," snapped Shepard. "He's become a puppet, in more ways than one. They've upgraded their little pet, if you want to look at it that way."

"Upgraded?" asked Tali.

"The biotics," said Captain Kirrahe suddenly. He pressed his fist to his mouth, large eyes swivelling back and forth. "There was nothing on file from the Council documents to suggest that Saren ever had any biotic abilities."

"Pardon me," said Kaidan, leaning forward. "But I was under the impression that biotics could develop later in other species."

"Later," said Garrus, "but not this late. If they don't manifest when young, usually they'll show up during mandatory military service. All it takes is one high pressure mission."

"And then you're segregated from the rest of the military," finished Shepard. Garrus looked at her in surprise and she gave a one shouldered shrug. "I met a turian once who became disillusioned with the military after her biotics flared up and she was segregated from the regular platoons. Nothing in Saren's personnel files indicate that was the case."

"Regardless," said Kirrahe, "it's highly unlikely they would've manifested by now. You're saying the Reapers can grant people biotic abilities?"

Shepard gave a tight nod.

"This still doesn't explain why we didn't just shoot the bastard," griped Wrex. He stood and pointed a finger at Shepard. "You told me that I would get the chance to do it."

"I meant it, but we have to play this smart," said Shepard. "Saren's a formidable enemy, but he's small time compared to the Reapers. So long as we know what he's up to, we know how to counter him. That gives us the advantage. If we took him out, it's very likely that Sovereign would just find another puppet, one who would be able to slip in right under our noses and sabotage our attempts." She sighed and ran both hands over the stubble on her head.

"That's a hell of a risk, Shepard," said Garrus.

"I'm asking you to trust me," said Shepard to all of them, though her eyes lingered longer on the turian than anyone. "You can question my actions, but please don't question my motives."

Shepard licked her lips, hugging herself. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Liara could see she was struggling to give voice to some painful opinion, and her heart went out to the Commander, despite everything. She wanted nothing more than to put her own arms around the woman. How lonely it must be, with those visions of destruction dancing in her head.

"At the end of the day, there are only two options here," Shepard whispered. "There are only two options the Reapers have left us. The war's already started, and we can either fight or die."

"What about mercy?" asked Liara, clasping her hands tightly between her knees. Ice tickled down her nervous system.

"I don't know," admitted Shepard. "There's a human saying: the road to hell is paved with good intentions." She shook her head. "I just don't know."

"Commander," said Joker over the comm, "we're near a comm buoy. I can link us in if you want to report back to the Council."

"You're all dismissed," said Shepard, "though if you'll stay, Captain, we can address them together."

Kirrahe nodded. As most of them filed out, Liara glanced back to see Shepard watching them. When she caught the asari's eyes, she smiled. It was weary and small, but the genuine affection made Liara's insides flare to life. In that moment, Liara knew, without a smidgen of doubt, that she would follow that woman to the ends of the galaxy.

0-0-0

The future could be altered. Things weren't set in stone. She could change things, hopefully for the better.

This was the thought that had flashed through her brain as she'd fallen to her knees in the cargo bay as the Normandy fled the fallout from the bomb. Then, well, then she'd put a bullet in that woman's brain. It certainly didn't feel better when she wiped up the blood from the floor. It felt like someone had taken a butter knife and set about carving open her heart.

Years of this, and it never got easier.

Of course, all it took was one glance at her crew – her whole crew, without anyone lost – to know why she did it. She'd saved Kaidan. She'd saved Ash. If that meant that the asari had to die, well, call her heartless, but she thought that was a price well worth paying, considering where the asari ended up in the long run.

Kirrahe had questions, of course. He didn't pry, so she didn't tell him about where she was really from. For now, it sufficed to let him – and everyone else – think that she was getting all her information from the Prothean beacons. She could see it on them, though, plain as day – they thought she was losing herself. And maybe she was, but she meant every word. She could remember the numbness that had wrapped around her like a fog following the Alpha relay incident, the knowledge that all those deaths were on her, but they paled in comparison to the utter helplessness, the complete guilt of watching those fleets decimated above Earth.

So she would become the monster, if that's what it took.

What a hilarious turn of events. Throughout the war, it was Garrus who'd pushed her into taking a more realistic approach to war. He tempered her idealism with practicality, and she stopped him from becoming little more than those mercs he'd fought back on Omega. They saved each other in a million different ways throughout the course of their relationship, and now… Now it seemed the tables had turned. As he argued with her, as he voiced his displeasure, she couldn't help but wonder what this would mean for their relationship, if they'd even have one. He wasn't her Garrus yet, and maybe now he never would be.

That was also a small price to pay if it meant he got to live.

Of course, this was all premature. She still needed to make sure that Saren and Sovereign were defeated – again – because if not, well, nothing she could do would make it better. After that, she could worry about her love life, or lack thereof.

But the first step, the very first step, was getting the Council to listen to her this time.

As the three Councillors appeared, Kirrahe took position just behind her and to the left. Tevos smiled at her, though it was strained. "Commander, we're pleased to hear that your mission was a success." She turned her attention to the salarian. "And you, Captain. It's good to see you in one piece."

"Saren's bad enough, but if he were to have an army of krogan behind him…" said Sparatus.

How was it that she could remember this conversation so vividly? Shepard took a deep breath. "Yes, it would've been disastrous," she agreed. "But I think we can all agree that Sovereign is the real threat here. The Reapers wiped out the Protheans, and now they coming for us. They're next step will be an assault on the Citadel."

"Yes," said Valern slowly, and Shepard could already see that even though everything had changed, it hadn't changed enough. Probably, blackmailing the Council during that first meeting hadn't been the best plan. "We saw your report. Sovereign. A sentient machine – a true artificial intelligence. This news is quite alarming… If it turns out to be true."

"Did you not see the video the Captain took?"

"We did," said Sparatus, clasping his hands in front of him, "and while it was certainly ominous, there was nothing to indicate it was anything more than an elaborate VI hoax. Saren still has contacts here on the Citadel. It's possible he heard about your, ahem, theories and decided to play you. You'd chase this imaginary threat while he set about his own tasks."

Shepard did her best not to grind her teeth, her hands balling at her side. She shouldn't have been surprised. If she'd been in their shoes, she might not have believed her either, but that took away none of the sting.

"Captain Kirrahe," said Tevos, "what do you think?"

Kirrahe thought over what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. "Some of my men were captured by Saren," he said at last. "When we found them, they were no longer themselves. I've seen torture, Councillors, and I've seen psychological warfare, and this appeared to be neither. This was something else."

"And Sovereign?" prompted Tevos.

"It was heavy," said Kirrahe, frowning. "I don't know how else to describe it. It wasn't in front of us, not physically, but there was still a weight there. I've never felt anything like it. With respect, if it was a VI, it was quite unlike anything else I've ever seen."

"That's hardly conclusive evidence," said Valern. "We already knew that Saren had advanced technology – as evidenced by the ship in question, and the mysterious geth devices found on Eden Prime – but there is nothing to suggest that they were supplied by an ancient sentient machines. Our own intelligence has supplied nothing that would corroborate these claims."

There was a thread of a memory poking out, and with a frown, Shepard tugged on it. She closed her eyes, and all at once, she remembered the dossier supplied to her during the war, right after her encounter with Balak. "What about the Leviathan of Dis?" she asked.

Both Sparatus and Tevos frowned in confusion, but Valern went still.

"What are you going on about now?" demanded Sparatus.

"Do you want to tell them or should I?" asked Shepard.

Valern swallowed, composing himself. He turned to his fellow Councillors. "Twenty years ago, the remains of a starship were found on the planet of Jartar in the Dis system. The batarians who found it did not know that a salarian task group was in the vicinity, and we managed to acquire some documentation of the ruin before it was secreted away by the hegemony."

"It was a Reaper," said Shepard. "Look up the files and compare the pictures of the Leviathan to Sovereign. They'll match, I can guarantee."

Sparatus was not impressed. "And what will that prove?"

"The ship was dated at over a billion years old," said Valern. He was starting to look uncomfortable.

"This is troubling indeed," said Tevos, who was obviously struggling to remain stoic, "but somewhat irrelevant to the matters at hand. Saren has Sovereign, who may or may not be a Reaper. Regardless of the origin of this ship, it - along with Saren – is a threat, and one that needs to be dealt with. Commander, please report to the Citadel at once. We will convene to discuss our next strategy."

"Of course, Councillors."

The line went dead and Shepard slumped down, propping herself up on the bar that separated her from the holoprojectors. "Well," she said, "that went well."

"That was well?" said Kirrahe, and she could hear the raised eyebrow in his voice.

"Comparatively. Sparatus didn't resort to personal attacks this time, and nobody flat out denied the possibility of Reapers." She sighed. "But it's going to take a hell of a lot more than that if we're going to be ready in time. I need them to trust me."

"That's going to be difficult," cautioned Kirrahe. "Valern will be the trickiest, I think."

Shepard glanced over her shoulder at him. "Valern, really? Not Sparatus?"

"Sparatus dislikes you, but if you prove yourself, you'll earn his respect. It's a given with turians. He only dislikes you because he doesn't feel humanity has earned its position. Show him you deserve it, and he'll back you."

Shepard couldn't help herself from snorting. She could hardly tell him that all her past experience spoke to the contrary, or that the Councillor had only become semi-bearable after the Reapers had attacked and Shepard had been redeemed, if you wanted to call it that. He was civil after she saved his life, but then, well, they'd regressed right back to the beginning when she was facing down the Collectors.

"It may seem unlikely," said Kirrahe, "but it's nearly instinctive to the turians. Their entire society is a meritocracy, remember. Earn his respect, show him you are what you seem to be, and he'll be in your corner."

This perspective had never occurred to her. She tried to think back. He had been particularly vitriolic in her early days – these days, she reminded herself – when she'd had no concrete evidence for the Reapers. She'd saved his life, and he'd mellowed… Until two years later. But two years later, all reports suggested she was working with Cerberus, who weren't shy about their pro-human, anti-alien agenda. If what Kirrahe said was true, she supposed she could understand why the turian would have his panties in a bunch. She'd earned his respect, and then – from all outwards appearances – she'd flung that respect back in his face by inadvertently joining an organization that spat on his very existence.

Her first instinct was to go defensive, because she'd tried to tell them, to explain herself, but they'd written her completely off… If things had been different, though, wouldn't she have done the same thing? And in the long run, was their reaction really that different from Ash's, way back on Horizon?

"So what's this about Valern?" she asked, rather than dwell on that unpleasant memory.

"We salarians do not have the technological advantage, diplomacy or widespread biotic ability of the asari," said Kirrahe, "and we definitely don't have the physical prowess or military supremacy of the turians. Everything we have, we've gotten through intelligence – and I am referring to both definitions of the word. As such, anything that compromises our intelligence network is a threat. Our trade is in secrets.

The pieces clicked together in her brain. "And I just revealed one."

"I'm not going to ask where you got your information," said Kirrahe, "but it's certain that Valern has someone keeping tabs on you." He glanced towards the door. "I don't mean to pry, but are you entirely certain that your crew can be trusted?"

"Absolutely," said Shepard without hesitation. "I trust them all implicitly." Kirrahe didn't look entirely convinced, but didn't give voice to his doubts. Choosing to change the subject, she asked, "So how do I get him on my side?"

Kirrahe stared her down. "Make sure you have nothing to hide."

Well, she thought, what was one more impossible task?

0-0-0

Joker was just happy he was the one flying the ship. Apart from his sometimes surly attitude – hey, he was a big boy, he could admit it – he was pretty much on an even keel. Which was, y'know, more than you could say about Shepard at this point. Damn, that woman was like a yo-yo, back and forth all over the emotional spectrum.

That she was now a murderous yo-yo didn't really sit well with Joker. It was only a matter of time before she started turning on the crew, right? According to every vid he'd ever seen, that was the only logical next step.

Last time he'd gone down to see Chakwas about his meds, he'd asked if maybe he should check Shepard's brain for some sort of brain parasite or something. Or to check her DNA to make sure she wasn't changing into a Prothean, because as neat as that would be to see – and as, uh, interesting as it would be to see Liara get an asari lady boner over it – he didn't really think it would benefit the mission. Or hell, maybe it would?

Of course, if what Shepard said was true, and Sovereign was a Reaper, and the Protheans were really wiped out by the Reapers, well, maybe having a Prothean on board would only piss off the evil, giant machines.

"You know," he said conversationally, "I really hoped there'd be a lot less bureaucracy with a Spectre on board. I figured we'd be like, space pirates. Running and gunning and giving the finger to everybody."

"It's been my experience," said Pressly behind him, "that the more leeway you're given, the more hoops you have to jump through."

"You learn that on all your Spectre runs, Pressly?"

Joker could practically feel the XO roll his eyes behind him. "I'm just saying, Shepard has been given an extraordinary promotion in the galactic community. It would make sense that they'd want to keep an eye on their investment." Pressly cleared his throat and muttered something Joker couldn't catch.

"See, they said the same thing about the Normandy," said Joker, brushing ahead, "but me? I'd be wary of accepting any job where they see me as an investment."

"I'll take it under advisement," drawled a voice behind him. "Of course, it's a little late for that."

"Oh, er, hey Commander," said Joker even while Pressly said, "Ma'am."

Shepard stood there, not saying anything, all creepy-like for a good few minutes. If it bothered Pressly, he didn't let it show. His fingers still tapped at the haptic interface with annoying regularity.

"So, Commander, any reason you came to join us up here on the bridge, or, y'know, just hanging?"

The silence stretched longer, and Joker made a mental note to add surly to the list of adjectives that could be used to describe the new side of his CO. Hey, at least they had something in common now, which might work in his favour if – when? – she decided to go gun crazy. Finally, she sighed. "I'm going to be upfront with you both. I'm headed for a meeting with the Council. If everything goes well, they'll believe me about Sovereign and Saren and we can implement a plan to stop them."

"Right, because that's worked out so well so far," said Joker.

"And if not, Commander?" said Pressly.

"Then they will ground the ship, and the Normandy will be powerless to help stop Saren and Sovereign when the time comes." There was a jagged edge to her voice.

"Those bastards," said Joker cheerfully.

"They have their uses," said Shepard with a shake of her head, "but I'm going to ask you both a difficult question. And no matter what you decide, you will not disappoint me."

Well, gee, that sounded promising. Joker spun around to find a stony faced Shepard – of course, lately, most of Shepard's faces were stony.

"Ma'am?" prompted Pressly, and Joker felt marginally better knowing that the navigator sounded just as uneasy.

"There may come a time when I need to take the ship for a little ride," said Shepard, clasping her hands behind her back. "You're welcome to come along, if you'd like."

"Commander," said Pressly, "that would be… That would be mutiny."

"Yes," said Shepard simply. "It would."

Joker and Pressly looked at each other, each weighing their feelings against the possible risks. On one hand, they could kiss their Alliance careers and fat pension goodbye if things went way South – and let's be honest, Pressly was going to be needing that pay cheque sooner rather than later. There was, however, the huge possibility that if the Reapers wound up coming through – and though Shepard was crazy, so far she wasn't crazy crazy – those pay cheques would be worth diddlysquat. So hey, if he was probably going to die anyways, he might as well go out as a vigilante hero, like Han Solo. Joker found himself smiling.

"Joy ride around the galaxy?" he asked. "Yeah, that could be fun. It's not like you'd make it anywhere without me."

Shepard nodded her head in concession and turned to Pressly. The man slowly raised his arm into a salute. "It would be an honour, ma'am."

She squeezed the top of her XO's arm gently. Her smile was fierce in its gratitude, and made Joker more than a little proud that he was partly the cause. Yeah, maybe she was losing her head, but he was pretty sure that anybody would in her shoes. And he could still remember the way the world had tilted underneath him when Kaidan had come aboard with an unresponsive Shepard in his arms. It wasn't a sight any of the crew were soon to forget, and despite himself, Joker's protective urges were slowly but surely kicking in. Even if she was potentially turning into an alien, or maybe because of it.

"Thank you," she said, and her words vibrated with emotion. "Thank you both for trusting me."

Joker shrugged. "Hey, if you're going to steal a ship, you might as well steal one with a stealth drive, right? Besides, my ass imprint is just about perfect. I'm not giving up my seat." He shimmied in his seat.

Shepard's laughter echoed through the CIC. Joker had almost forgotten what it sounded like.

0-0-0

Garrus lifted his hand to knock on the Commander's door, then set it down, reconsidering. It was the first time he'd ever come seeking her out, rather than the other way around, and with things being what they were, he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say.

That Saren had somehow manifested biotic abilities was troubling. Shepard suggested that it had been the Reapers' doing, which was even more troubling, especially considering Garrus had been doing everything in his power to find some link between what had happened on the Citadel with Saren and biotics. That Shepard's own biotics had improved substantially during the same time period couldn't be overlooked even if he wanted to, and it left a gnawing itch in the pit of his stomach.

There was a connection. There had to be, but it lingered just out of reach, like that one misplaced word in the middle of a sentence.

What if that explosion on the Citadel had been Saren's doing, just like Liara had suspected? What if the Alliance had somehow gotten a hold of some information and had used Reaper technology to save Shepard's life? What if they had upgraded her like Saren had been upgraded? And if that were true, maybe Shepard herself was indoctrinated, something that would account for her changed demeanour.

Only… Garrus didn't think so. There was no evidence besides his intuition to suggest this would be the case, and there was some to actively refute it. The Council backing off the investigation for one. Then there was Shepard herself, who though different, seemed to be walking around the Normandy with a ghost latched about her shoulders, doing what she could to counter the Reapers' plan.

With a sigh, he knocked. The door slid open and he entered. Shepard was halfway through a protein bar and she stood when she saw it was him. Her brown eyes slid over the mess in her room, and she sent him a wary look, one hand absently covering some of the datapads behind her.

"Garrus," she said faintly, "how can I help you?"

"I, uh," he said, scrambling for words. In his head, he'd planned to play the hard cop with her, to tell her exactly what he thought, Sparatus be damned. In reality, the words clogged in his throat and his shoulders slumped. "I'm worried."

Understanding blossomed on her face. "About Sovereign?"

"About you," he said.

That understanding gave way to sheer nothing. Garrus had no idea when Shepard had become so damned adept at masking her emotions, and he wasn't sure he liked the change. "Is this about Virmire?" she asked. "Or the asari?"

He wrung his hands together, wondering how to answer, wondering why, even now, it was hard to look at her, hard to accuse her. It had been different in their debriefing earlier, when his emotions had still floated like oil on water. Easier.

"In most official ways," he started, "I'm not a very good cop. I believe in justice, sure, what cop doesn't?" He frowned slightly, thinking of one drunken waste in particular, before plowing on. "But I'm not a by-the-book sort of person. I always thought that unless you gave a hundred and ten percent, unless you made sure that the bad guys were stopped no matter what, rules and regulations were nothing more than excuses."

"But?" hedged Shepard.

"But then I met you," said Garrus, and he wasn't sure how he felt about the fact that his voice had dropped into something close to a whisper. He knew his subvocals were proclaiming an emotion somewhere between sad and nostalgic, but he wasn't able to control it. Not for the first time, he was glad human ears couldn't pick up on their nuances. "Then I met you, and you had exactly the opposite perspective. You taught me that unless we adhere to those rules, we become the monsters we're fighting against."

Shepard turned her face away, her eyes downcast. Something stretched taut between them, something Garrus couldn't quantify, only he felt some small part of him yearning to figure out what it was. "What exactly do you want, Garrus?"

And because he knew that he was going to have to report the asari debacle, and Shepard's subsequent assertions in the debriefing, and because even now it was a betrayal, he just asked, "Why?"

"It's the cold calculus of war," she said, and beneath the flat expanse of her voice, there was something he couldn't interpret. Garrus fought off the frustration that aliens were so damned hard to read sometimes. "The Reapers, Garrus, they don't fear. They don't hate, though I'm sure they'd hate me if they could. They don't take pleasure in what they do, they do it because that's what they were designed to do. They don't believe in compassion, or justice, or morality, or ambition, or any other emotion. How are we supposed to win a war against something like that if we stick to our subjective ethics?"

It didn't sound like an argument, not really. It sounded like Shepard was trying to convince herself that it was true. For the first time, Garrus wondered if maybe it was costing the Commander more than he'd realized to take on her newfound guise. "Shepard," he said, "doesn't that make your point all the more important?"

Shepard choked, or at least that's what it sounded like until she shook her head, smiling slightly and he realized it was closer to a laugh. "For reasons you may never know, Garrus, this is all hugely ironic."

"Try me," he said.

"I… loved someone," she said quietly, closing her eyes. "He was a realist. When I argued what you're arguing now, when I argued for mercy and compassion, he would gently remind me that neither of those things win wars when you're the only one using them. I refused to believe him."

Garrus was somehow sure he knew the answer to the question before he asked it. "What happened to him?"

"I watched him die," she said, and for all the misery in her voice, you would've thought it was yesterday. "I watched him die and I wondered if I'd listened, would he still be alive?"

"Shepard…" He didn't know what to say; there was nothing to say. For all that he'd admired Shepard, for all that he worried after her and what may have happened to her, for all that he doubted her, he'd failed to imagine her as the complex thing she was. "What changed?" he asked instead. "What happened in that hospital to make you change now?"

She was silent for a long time. "When I woke up," she said at last, "I understood what it would mean if we lost. I realized there were some things I was not prepared to give up without a fight." She turned her eyes on him, and there was something blazing behind them, some emotion that hung heavy in Garrus' chest, even if he couldn't understand what it was or what it meant.

That trust, that admiration that Shepard seemed to earn wherever she went, it welled up inside of him until his limbs were heavy with it. He wanted so badly to believe that it was that simple, that he was jumping at shadows, but if that were the case, why would Sparatus be so interested in her? Why would she be keeping things from him? Why wouldn't she talk about the incident on the Presidium? Where did her biotics come from?

With a sigh, he said, "I see," and it was as close to the truth as he dared come. He'd never known Shepard to lie, but he'd never known her to gun down unarmed civilians either. It was a day of firsts. He turned to leave. "Thank you, Shepard."

"Of course," she said, following him.

It was only when he emerged from her quarters that he turned to ask, hoping to catch her off guard, "What was his name?"

The second the question was out, he wished he'd never said anything at all. The planes of her face became jagged with grief, and she licked her lips.

"Garrus," she said, firmly and with the beginnings of anger. "Goodnight."

The door closed in his face, and though he'd only been trying to find answers, Garrus retreated to the cargo bay feeling like somehow, more than his questioning her motives, more than his reports to Sparatus, that question was a betrayal.

I am so sorry for the delay on this one guys. A whole slew of things kept me from writing - working 6 days a week, graduating university, having a mildly serious medical situation that required a visit to the hospital, hosting visiting family members, etc. The good news is that I've been on a writing spree the last few days, and I've managed to plot the next, I don't know, 30k words? So hopefully (fingers crossed) I won't be MIA for so long next time.

As always, thank you for your wonderful feedback.